ks on it. There was a rude table, whose
cut, scratched, and hacked surface suggested the idea of many a culinary
essay, and many a good meal. There was a very simple grate composed of
several stones, which were blackened and whitened with soot and fire.
There was no chimney, however, for the roof of the cave was so high that
all smoke dissipated itself there, and found an exit no one knew how!
In a recess there was a sort of small raised platform, covered with soft
herbage and blankets of cocoa-nut fibre, on which, every night, father
and son lay down together. The entrance to the inner cave, which formed
a store-room and pantry, was covered with a curtain, so that the
habitation with its rocky walls, earthen floor, and stalactite roof had
quite a snug and cosy appearance.

Soon Billy returned with an armful of dry wood.

"Have ye got a light yet, daddy?"

Gaff, who had been endeavouring to produce a light by using his knife on
a bit of flint for five or ten minutes, said he had "just got it," and
proved the truth of his assertion by handing his son a mass of smoking
material. Billy blew this into a flame, and applied it to the wood,
which soon kindled into a roaring fire.

"Now, then," cried the Bu'ster, "where's the spit? Ah! that's it; here
you go; oh dear, how you would yell just now, Mister Grumpy, if you were
alive! It's a cruel thought, but I can't help it. There, now, frizzle
away, and I'll go clean up my dishes while you are roasting."

No sooner had the pig been put on the spit, and the first fumes arisen,
than there was a loud yell in the forest, followed immediately by the
pattering of small feet, as if in tremendous haste.

"Aha! Squeaky, I knew _you_ would smell out the supper double quick,"
cried Billy with a laugh, as he looked towards the door.

"He never misses it," said Gaff with a quiet smile. Next moment a small
pig came scampering into the cave and rushed up to the fire, where it
sat down promptly as if the sole object it had in view were to warm
itself!

And this was indeed its only object, for that pig was passionately,
ludicrously fond of the fire! It was a pet pig.

One day when Billy was out hunting, he had caught it in a somewhat
singular fashion. He usually went out hunting with a bow and arrow of
his own making, and was very successful in bringing down white doves,
parroquets, and such creatures, but could make nothing of the pigs,
whose skins were too tough for his woo