On their branches were birds of strange plumage. They were singing, but the songs were unlike any that the three explorers had heard in America.
There were flowers, also, for on this far-away island it was the season of blooming, and their fragrance perfumed the air.
“I wonder if there are any inhabitants?” said Luke Clark.
“Probably there are no white inhabitants, and I hope there are none of a different race. They might prove dangerous, and interfere with our plans.”
“It almost seems a waste of productive power that such a delightful island should be uninhabited,” said Abner Titcomb. “Suppose it were within a few miles of Boston or New York, or near Portland, how it would attract visitors.”
“Like Peak’s Island,” suggested Luke Clark.
“Where is that?” asked Guy.
“Three miles from Portland. It is much smaller than this, but it attracts many visitors in the summer.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t move this island. Indeed, I shouldn’t want to till I have found the treasure.”
They reached the edge of the woods and plunged in. There was very little underbrush, but the trees rose straight and erect, branching at a considerable distance from the ground.