at
sweet Coral Island; and I am now persuaded that this was owing to our
having been all tuned to the same key--namely, that of _love_! Yes, we
loved one another with much fervency while we lived on that island; and,
for the matter of that, we love each other still.

And while I am on this subject, or rather the subject that just preceded
it--namely, the tides--I may here remark on another curious natural
phenomenon. We found that there was little or no twilight in this
island. We had a distinct remembrance of the charming long twilight at
home, which some people think the most delightful part of the day--
though, for my part, I have always preferred sunrise; and when we first
landed, we used to sit down on some rocky point or eminence, at the
close of our day's work, to enjoy the evening breeze, but no sooner had
the sun sunk below the horizon than all became suddenly dark. This
rendered it necessary that we should watch the sun when we happened to
be out hunting; for to be suddenly left in the dark while in the woods
was very perplexing, as, although the stars shone with great beauty and
brilliancy, they could not pierce through the thick umbrageous boughs
that interlaced above our heads.

But to return. After having told all we could to Peterkin about the
Diamond Cave under Spouting Cliff, as we named the locality, we were
wending our way rapidly homewards when a grunt and a squeal were borne
down by the land breeze to our ears.

"That's the ticket!" was Peterkin's remarkable exclamation as he started
convulsively and levelled his spear.

"Hist!" cried Jack; "these are your friends, Peterkin. They must have
come over expressly to pay you a friendly visit, for it is the first
time we have seen them on this side of the island."

"Come along!" cried Peterkin, hurrying towards the wood; while Jack and
I followed, smiling at his impatience.

Another grunt and half-a-dozen squeals, much louder than before, came
down the valley. At this time we were just opposite the small vale
which lay between the Valley of the Wreck and Spouting Cliff.

"I say, Peterkin!" cried Jack in a hoarse whisper.

"Well, what is't?"

"Stay a bit, man! These grunters are just up there on the hillside. If
you go and stand with Ralph in the lee of yon cliff I'll cut round
behind and drive them through the gorge, so that you'll have a better
chance of picking out a good one. Now, mind you pitch into a fat young
pig, Peterkin!" add