The light of the camp-fire shone faintly between the trees, as the boys began to toil dejectedly up the hill. When the summit had been reached, Tom Clifton, who was in the lead, approached the fire and stooped over.
"Look, Nat!" he exclaimed, holding up a sadly charred object.
"The megaphone!" cried young Wingate. "How did that happen?"
"Kirk must have thrown it too near the fire, after he gave that awful howl," answered Ted Pollock; "anyway, it's done for."
The fire brightened up for a moment, as the last of the megaphone crumbled to pieces in the hot embers.
There was no sleep for the boys that night. The mosquitoes still hovered around, and a dreary time was spent while awaiting the approach of day.
When the light was sufficient, Bob Somers brought out his map.
"Boys, here's something I never thought of before," he said slowly.
"Any new trouble?" inquired Dick.
"I believe we are on an island."