time peering above the water-line.

The town had drifted behind us, and we were entering among the
group of islands. Sometimes we could almost touch with our boat-
hook the shelving banks on either side. As we neared the mouth of
the harbor, a little breeze now and then wrinkled the blue water,
shook the spangles from the foliage, and gently lifted the spiral
mist-wreaths that still clung alongshore. The measured dip of our
oars and the drowsy twitterings of the birds seemed to mingle with,
rather than break, the enchanted silence that reigned about us.

The scent of the new clover comes back to me now, as I recall that
delicious morning when we floated away in a fairy boat down a river
like a dream!

The sun was well up when the nose of the Dolphin nestled against
the snow-white bosom of Sandpeep Island. This island, as I have
said before, was the last of the cluster, one side of it being
washed by the sea. We landed on the river-side, the sloping sands
and quiet water affording us a good place to moor the boat.

It took us an hour or more to transport our stores to the spot
selected for the encampment. Having pitched our tent, using the
five oars to support the canvas, we got out our lines, and went
down the rocks seaward to fish. It was early for cunners, but we
were lucky enough to catch as nice a mess as ever you saw. A cod
for the chowder was not so easily secured. At last Binny Wallace
hauled in a plump little fellow clustered all over with flaky
silver.