is the third sign of invasion. Since tangerines do
not grow on our island, somebody must have brought them across the
Ocean Rocks from the other island, which may, or may not, have
something to do with the appearance and/or disappearance of the
extraordinary rock reported by the mouse."

After a long silence the other boar said, "You know, I think we're
taking all this too seriously. Those peels probably floated over here
all by themselves, and you know how unreliable mice are. Besides, if
there had been an invasion, _I_ would have seen it!"

"Perhaps you're right," said the first boar. "Shall we retire?"
Whereupon they both trundled back into the jungle.

Well, that taught my father a lesson, and after that he saved all his
tangerine peels. He walked all night and toward morning came to the
river. Then his troubles really began.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

_Chapter Five_

MY FATHER MEETS SOME TIGERS

The river was very wide and muddy, and the jungle was very gloomy and
dense. The trees grew close to each other, and what room there was
between them was taken up by great high ferns with sticky leaves. My
father hated to leave the beach, but he decided to start along the
river bank where at least the jungle wasn't quite so thick. He ate
three tangerines, making sure to keep all the peels this time, and put
on his rubber boots.

My father tried to follow the river bank but it was very swampy, and
as he went farther the swamp became deeper. When it was almost as deep
as his boot tops he got stuck in the oozy, mucky mud. My father tugged
and tugged, and nearly pulled his boots right off, but at last he
managed to wade to a drier place. Here the jungle was so thick that he
could hardly see where the river was. He unpacked his compass and
figured out the direction he should walk in order to stay near the
river. But he didn't know that the river made a very sharp curve away
from him just a little way beyond, and so as he walked straight ahead
he was getting farther and farther away from the river.

It was very hard to walk in the jungle. The sticky leaves of the ferns
caught at my father's hair, and he kept tripping over roots and rotten
logs. Sometimes the trees were clumped so closely together that he
couldn't squeeze between them and had to walk a long way around.

He began to hear whispery noises, but he couldn't see any animals
anywhere. The deeper into the jungle he went the surer he was that