"You would not be able to keep your promise, Jack," Hannah replied. "With Ernest there would be no need for anxiety, but you——"
"And suppose some wild beast appeared, a panther, a bear, a tiger, a lion? There are some on our island."
"Not in the Promised Land," Mme. Zermatt answered. "Come, Jack, give in to us this time. You will still have three hundred and sixty-four days in the year."
"Isn't it Leap Year by any chance?"
"No," Ernest replied.
"No luck!" the young sportsman exclaimed.
It was about an hour later when the two families stopped at the foot of Falconhurst, after crossing the mangrove wood.
M. Zermatt's first care was to ascertain that the fence which enclosed the poultry yard was in sound condition. Neither the monkeys nor the wild boars had indulged their instinct to destroy. There really would have been no need for Jack to make reprisals on these marauders on this occasion.
The party began by taking a rest on the semi-circular terrace of clay made above the roots of the huge mangrove and rendered water-proof by a mixture of resin and tar. They all took a little refreshment there from the barrels of mead which were stored under the terrace. Then they went up the winding staircase, built inside the tree, to the platform forty feet above the ground.
It was an unfailing pleasure to the Zermatts to be among the broad leaves of the tree. Was not this their first nest, the one which held so many memories for them? The nest had become a fresh and delightful habitation, with its two trellised balconies, its double floor, its rooms roofed in with nicely fitted bark, and its light furniture. Henceforward it would be no more than a mere resting place. More spacious buildings were to be erected at Prospect Hill. But M. Zermatt meant to preserve the old "falcon's nest" as long as the gigantic tree would hold it in its arms, until, worn out by years, it fell to pieces from old age.