the
island, some of which they killed, and thus added further to their
larder. These labors of house-building and housekeeping kept them busy,
and Paul was surprised to find how well content he had become. Hart did
all the cooking, but Paul made amends in other directions, and at night,
when they were not fishing or hunting, they would sit by the little fire
and talk. Once about the noon hour they saw a smoke far to the south, and
both regarded it speculatively.

"Think likely it's an Injun huntin' party," said Jim Hart, "an' they don't
dream o' any white men bein' about. That's why they are so careless about
their fire, because the different tribes o' these parts are all at peace
with one another."

"How far away would you say that smoke is?" asked Paul.

"Three or four miles, anyway, an' I'm pow'ful glad this is a haunted
islan', so they won't come over here."

"So am I," said Paul devoutly.

He lay on his back on the soft turf, and watched the smoke rising away in
a thin spire into the heavens. He could picture to himself the savage
party as it sat about the fire, and it gave him a remarkable feeling of
comfort and safety to know that he was so well protected by the ghosts
that haunted the little island.

The smoke rose there all the morning, but Paul ceased by and by to pay any
attention to it, although he and Jim Hart kept well within the cove,
busying themselves with additions to their lean-to. Paul had found great
strips of bark shed by the trees, and he used these to patch the roof.
More pieces were used for the floor, and, with the bearskin spread over
them, it was quite dry and snug. Then he stood off and regarded it with a
critical and approving eye.

"You haven't seen a better house than that lately, have you, Jim?" he
said, in a tone of pride.

"Considerin' the fact that I ain't seen any other uv any kind in a long
time, I kin truthfully say I haven't," replied Jim Hart sardonically.

"You lack appreciation, Jim," said Paul. "Besides, your imagination is
deficient. Why don't you look at this hut of ours and imagine that it is a
magnificent stone castle?"

Jim Hart gazed wonderingly at the boy.

"Paul," he said, "you always wuz a puzzle to me. I can't see no
magnificent stone castle--jest a bark an' brush hut."

Paul shook his head reprovingly.

"I am sorry for you, Jim," he said. "I not only see a magnificent stone
castle, but I see a splendid town over there on the mainland."

"You talk p