Fritz.—Let us call it simply Tent House.
Father.—That name will do very well. And the little islet at the entrance of Providence Bay, in which we found so many planks and beams that enabled us to make our bridge, how shall it be named?
Ernest.—It may be called Sea-Gull Island, or Shark Island, for it was here we saw both those animals.
Father.—I am for the last of these names, Shark Island; for it was the shark that was the cause of the sea-gulls being there; and it will also be a means of commemorating the courage and the triumph of Fritz, who had killed the monster.
Jack.—For the same reason we will call the marsh, in which you cut the canes for our arrows, Flamingo Marsh.
Father.—Quite right, I think; and the plain, through which we passed on our way to this place, Porcupine Field, in memory of your skilful encounter with him. But now comes the great question,—What name shall we give to our present abode?
Ernest.—It ought to be called, simply, Tree Castle.
Fritz.—No, no, that will not do at all; that is the same as if, when we wanted to name a town, we called it The Town. Let us invent a more noble name.
Jack.—Yes, so we will. I say Fig Town.
Fritz.—Ha, ha, ha! a noble name, it must be confessed! Let us call it The Eagle’s Nest, which I am sure has a much better sound. Besides, our habitation in the tree, is really much more like a nest, than a town, and the eagle cannot but ennoble it, since he is the king of birds.