minds off their troubles to have something to do.

The best part of the morning was spent in the search and although they
came across occasional driblets of water,--the remnants of springs
started by the heavy rain that marked their first night on the
island,--they found nothing that promised an available supply. At noon
they sat down in the shade of a huge palm to rest and made a meal off
the nuts that lay at its foot. The milk of these proved cool and
refreshing and was drunk out of the shell after one end of it had been
hacked off with Frank's hunting knife.

"Well, we might as well make a start back for our camp," suggested
Frank, after some moments had passed in silence.

"Camp," repeated Harry, bitterly, "that's a fine camp. Why, there's
nothing there but trees and sand and howling monkeys."

Nevertheless a start was made for the resting place of the previous
night, the party trudging along the narrow beach in Indian file. All
at once Ben, who was in the lead, stopped short.

"Look!" he exclaimed, pointing overhead.

The boys followed his finger and gave a shout of astonishment.

"Smoke!" cried Frank.

"Hurrah," cheered Harry, "it's the Southern Cross."

He waved his hat at the dark wreaths of vapor that were blowing across