hams in equally good condition. Some huge dish-covers. A bit of twisted
ironwork, and a great quantity of cordage and timber.

There was one very heavy package which their united strength could not
lift. The sailor searched round until he found an iron bar that could
be wrenched from its socket. With this he pried open the strong outer
cover and revealed the contents--regulation boxes of Lee-Metford
ammunition, each containing 500 rounds.

"Ah!" he cried, "now we want some rifles."

"What good would they be?" inquired Iris.

He softly denounced himself as a fool, but he answered at once: "To
shoot birds, of course, Miss Deane. There are plenty here, and many of
them are edible."

"You have two revolvers and some cartridges."

"Yes. They are useful in a way, but not for pot hunting."

"How stupid of me! What you really need is a shot-gun."

He smiled grimly. At times his sense of humor forced a way through the
outward shield of reserve, of defiance it might be.

"The only persons I ever heard of," he said, "who landed under
compulsion on a desert island with a ship-load of requisites, were the
Swiss Family Robinson."