caution till Geoffrey's shout broke upon her ears.

She picked up the dead bird and paddled towards the dim figure who was
evidently wrestling with something, she could not see what.

"Here is the curlew, sir," she said.

"Oh, thank you," answered the figure on the rock. "I am infinitely
obliged to you. I was just going to swim for it, I can't bear losing my
game. It seems so cruel to shoot birds for nothing."

"I dare say that you will not make much use of it now that you have
got it," said the gentle voice in the canoe. "Curlew are not very good
eating."

"That is scarcely the point," replied the Crusoe on the rock. "The point
is to bring them home. _Après cela----_"

"The birdstuffer?" said the voice.

"No," answered Crusoe, "the cook----"

A laugh came back from the canoe--and then a question.

"Pray, Mr. Bingham, can you tell me where I am? I have quite lost my
reckoning in the mist."

He started. How did this mysterious young lady in a boat know his name?

"You are at the Red Rocks; there is the bell, that grey thing,