Joe lifted the flap of the tent and stepped outside. Everything was quiet; the camp was asleep. The sky in the east was all aglow with the coming sun. Joe drew a long breath of the fresh morning air, and looked around as he ran toward Mr. Bernard's tent.
Suddenly his eyes fell on the little vessel at anchor. In a moment he understood it all, and, turning quickly, he rushed back to his own tent, and seizing Dave by the shoulder he shook him till the blanket dropped off, and then he performed a dance around the tent, adapting his motions to the narrow quarters.
"Are you crazy, Joe Chester?" asked David, sitting up and looking very much dazed after having been rolled so snugly in the blanket.
He held his hand over his aching face, and felt rather cross at Joe's unseemly antics.
"I believe I am, Dave. Just get up and peep out; it will do your toothache good," whispered Joe. "But don't let the other fellows hear."
"What's the matter now?" grumbled Dave; but he jumped out of bed and looked out of the tent in the direction indicated by Joe's finger. "What's that,--a vessel?"
"It looks like one, doesn't it?"
"What's she doing there?"
"She's at anchor. But hush! don't talk so loud."
"That's queer; but what's that to us that you should go on at that rate? I thought you had made some great discovery," said Dave, preparing to retreat.