the plateau.

At the side of the clearing toward the stream stood a hut, built of
cocoa-palm logs. Its roof of palm-thatch had been scattered by
storms. Nearer the stream on a bench were an old decaying wash-tub
and a board. A broken frying-pan and a rusty axe-head lay in the
grass.

In the hut itself were a rude bedstead, a small table, and a
cupboard made of boxes. I was excited at first, and fancied we had
come upon the dwelling of a marooned pirate. Without taking the
trouble to combat this opinion, Mr. Shaw explained to Cuthbert Vane
that a copra gatherer had once lived here, and that the place must
have yielded such a profit that he was only surprised to find it
deserted now. Behind this cool, unemphatic speech I sensed an
ironic zest in the destruction of my pirate.

After their thrilling experience of being ferried from the _Rufus
Smith_ to the island, my aunt and Miss Browne had been easily
persuaded to dispose themselves for naps. Aunt Jane, however,
could not be at rest until Mr. Tubbs had been restored by a cordial
which she extracted with much effort from the depths of her
hand-bag. He partook with gravity and the rolled up eyes of
gratitude, and retired grimacing to comfort himself from a private
bottle of his own.

The boats of the _Rufus Smith_ had departed from the island, and
our relations with humanity were severed. The thought of our
isolation awed and fascinated me as I sat meditatively upon a keg
of nails watching the miracle of the tropic dawn. The men were