"Feeling better, old man?" queried Lane, solicitously.
"Fall in, Whittington," said Jim. "We're going on a tour of inspection."
"Wait a minute," remarked Lane. "We've had our house-warming. The next thing is to christen the place."
Dragging out a soap-box, he mounted it, produced from his pocket a piece of red chalk, and traced in large letters over the door, "Camp Spurling."
"Now we're off!" said he. "Welcome to our city! Watch us grow!"
"Come on!" urged Jim. "We want to look the island over before dark."
The party walked west along the sea-wall and proceeded in single file up a steep path to the highest part of the promontory.
"Brimstone Point," said Jim. "Best view on the island from here."
He began pointing out its different features.
"That little nubble almost west, sticking up so black against the sunset's Seal Island. Matinicus is right behind it. Up there on the horizon, just a trifle west of north, are the Camden Hills; you look exactly over Vinalhaven to see them. North across the pasture is Isle au Haut that we came by this afternoon. Beyond is Stonington. About time the lights were lit—Yes, there's Saddleback! See it twinkling west of Isle au Haut. Now look sharp a little south of west and you'll see Matinicus Rock glimmering; two lights, but they seem like one from here. Wouldn't think they were almost a hundred feet above water, would you? They look pretty good to a man when he's running in from outside on a dark night."