Every moment of their day was occupied, if not with work, then with enjoyments. The elders had to provide for the youngsters, and these again for theirs; and when every single thing must be drawn from Nature or from an accommodating but distant wreck-pile, such provision takes time and forethought.
When the day's work was completed they all bathed and rambled far and wide, and it was on one such ramble, when they had gone as far along towards the eastern end of the Island as small legs could carry, that the end came—as suddenly as had come the beginning.
They were sitting on the sunny side of a great sand-hill, eating and resting after their journey,—resting, that is, so far as the elders were concerned. The youngsters, who had found walking tiring, or perhaps tiresome, found no fatigue in scrambling to the tops of sandhills and sliding down the smooth soft sides with shouts and shrieks of laughter.
A cessation in the sport drew their father's and mother's eyes to them. They were both standing on the hill-top gazing eagerly out to sea and chattering to one another.
"Seals probably," said their mother. From where they sat they could not see the shore for an intervening ridge. And seals were always a mighty attraction to the children.
But when they began dancing excitedly on their hill-top their father called, "What is it you see, Cubbie?"
"Somefing, dad! Somefing funny."
"Somefing funny!" repeated little Avice eagerly, and the elders got up lazily and slowly climbed the hillside to see what it was.
"My God!" said Wulfrey, as his eyes cleared the top first, and he turned and kissed his wife joyously.
"Thank God!" she breathed deeply, as her eyes also lighted on that which was coming.