Before sunset Fred once more ascended the tree or look-out station, as he called it, and once more scanned the horizon. It was much clearer now, but no sail was visible.
But to his joy the island in the south was still there. So he concluded it must be real.
Cassia-bud had been paddling about in the lagoon all by himself, and just as the sun was dipping low towards the ocean he landed, and with a face that positively beamed with joy he threw down five beautiful fish at Fred's feet. They were beautiful in colour as well as in size and substance. "How lucky we were to have brought fishing-gear with us," cried Fred; "and really, Kashie, you're a perfect treasure."
Meanwhile Quambo had cleared the fire and erected a tripod of sticks over it with cross-pieces, and on this the fish were hung, and soon began to fizzle and steam.
Fred and Frank were lying on the smooth white sand, watching Quambo's preparations for supper. "I say, Fred," said Frank, "what does this remind you of?"
The tears rushed to Fred's eyes.
"Oh, Frank, I well remember! You are thinking of our Crusoe life on the desert island in Scotland. Ah! dear me, and now we are Crusoes in stern reality."
"Don't you wish that Toddie was here? Dear wee Toddie and the little dog Tip."
"I do and I don't. I wish we could only bring back old times, when you and I were young, though."
"Ah! well, we're not very particularly old yet, are we?"