y of water.

By this time Donalblane had got a pretty good understanding of all his
fellow-voyagers. His likes and dislikes were clearly defined, and,
young as he was, his natural shrewdness told him that there were only
too many in the company it would have been far better to have left at
home.

The Sutherlands were his special friends. He had won their hearts
completely, and he took great delight in the company of their little
son Walter, who loved him as though he fully understood that he owed
him his life.

At Fayal the four of them went ashore together, and Donalblane thought
he had never before realised how pleasant it was to be on the solid
ground as after these weeks of tossing about in an overcrowded ship.

"Eh, but this is bonnie!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, as his big
eyes roamed over the novel and picturesque landscape. "I'd like well
if this were Darien, and we need gang no farther."

Mr. Sutherland smiled at the boy's frankness. "You've evidently had
enough of the _Bonnie Scotland_, Donald," he said. "So, too, have I.
I'd be right glad to be rid both of the ship and many of her company.
But we're not half-way to Darien yet."

The striking combination of rugged grandeur with tropical beauty which
the Azores presented delighted Donald, and during their stay he spent
the whole day ashore exploring the islands, usually in company with Mr.
Sutherland. They revelled in the oranges and other fruit that were to
be had almost for the asking, and Donald used to amuse Mr. Sutherland
exceedingly by his lively effort to make himself understood by the
inhabitants, who were chiefly Portuguese.

One adventure befell him that might have had a serious result. He had
gone off wandering on his own account, and lost his way amidst the
ravines which pierce the mountains in every direction, and lead one
into another in a puzzling fashion. The harder he strove to extricate
himself from the maze, the deeper he got into it, until at last, a
little before sundown, he found himself in a regular _cul-de-sac_, from
which there appeared to be no exit save by climbing the precipitous
cliffs which shut him in, and it would soon be too dark to attempt
that. "Losh me!" he sighed ruefully, "but I'm fair trapped, and what
shall I do for the nicht?"

The question was more easily asked than answered. Of course to a son
of the Highlands the spending of a night in the open was not a serious
matter, so far as exposure was c