think George is far out of the way."

"Would you be surprised if I should put it at twenty-five miles, or more?"

"What makes you think so?"

"Appearances are always deceptive when you have nothing intervening to measure by."

"Is that the reason distances on water are always so deceptive?"

"Yes; have you ever noticed that you can judge distances better if the intervening landscape is rolling?"

"I think that is true in my case. But there is another thing I have noticed: When I am standing on the ground and looking up at an object, it never seems as far as when I am up there looking down: Why is that so?"

"That is simply the effect of habit, or familiarity. You are accustomed to look up at objects. The perspective, the altitude, and the appearance of the heights are natural things to you; but, when you are above, things below you have an entirely different perspective outline. Their arrangement is unfamiliar. Probably that is one of the reasons why we should always look upwardly in life, and not downwardly."

"But," inquired Harry, "is that the reason why some people, when at an elevation, like a tall building, or on a high precipice, say they feel like jumping down?"

"That is a species of paralysis, growing out of a sense of insecurity. It is purely an unnatural sensation, that temporarily disorganizes the nervous system. I knew a man who, whenever placed in such a position, could not speak."

They were now on what might be called the table land of the island. A broad plateau, with frequent groves, and any quantity of young trees scattered about everywhere, gave a most pleasing view. During the fourth day of the journey occasional little streams, flowing to the north, were crossed, and in the forenoon they had to halt for two hours and camp during the heaviest rainstorm which had fallen since they came to the island.

On the fifth day a broad river was sighted, flowing to the north, and before noon the banks were reached. Its width barred their further progress, unless a raft could be made large enough to take the team across. This was considered a hazardous task, and the distance from home was too great to take the risk. It was a larger stream than South River.

CHAPTER II

THE MYSTERIOUS LIGHTS

The usual rate of travel did not average two and a half miles an hour, and while the first and second days were vigorous ones, they were not so much disposed to hurry up now, and were taking the trip more leisurely, thus giving more time to the examination of trees and plants and flowers, and to investigating the geological formation of the country. The new river was not, in all probability, more than seventy miles from the Cataract home.

Beyond, fully a day's march, was the mountain chain—not a high range, but an elevation which showed a broken skyline. The mountains below the South River did not now seem so formidable; and directly to the south they could see no ranges or hill elevations. To the north the sea might be ten or fifty miles away. The river flowed past them at the rate of about two miles an hour.

That evening, while sitting on the bank, Harry had an idea. "We made a mistake in calling our home river the West River. Let us call this the West, and rename our stream the Cataract River."

"Very well; as George does not object, the Geographical Society will please take notice, and make the change."

George was of the impression that to settle the question of the direction they should take in their future explorations, was the most important thing to determine.

An entire day was spent in and about the vicinity of the river. New plants and shrubbery of various kinds were constantly sought for and examined—they fished and hunted; and on the morning of the third day it was decided to move on.

"We have not yet sighted any original inhabitants, and have found no signs of people living here; nevertheless, we had traces of a fire thirty or forty miles east of here. That is what puzzles me."

"I am in favor of following this stream to the north," was Harry's conclusion, "unless we make a raft and cross the river."

Harry's view finally prevailed, and at noon of that day they camped at the mouth of a little stream which flowed into the West River. Beyond was a forest, and on the opposite side of the West River the wood had all along been dense. At that point the trees did not come down to the stream, and there was considerable lowland between the river and the forest.

The Professor and George wandered up the banks of the little stream on a prospecting tour, as had been their constant practice. When they returned Harry knew something unusual had occurred from the excited appearance of George.

"What is it? Any animals?"

"No; only this." And George held up an arrow made of flint. The wooden portion of the arrow was really of good workmanship, and of hard, stiff wood.

"Where did you find this?"

"Not more than five hundred feet from here."

Harry looked at the Professor for an explanation, but he was silent. By common consent they now agreed upon making a more extended investigation of the vicinity for other traces, if possible. Within an hour Harry stumbled across the skull of an animal. This was not an unusual sight, as bones had been found at various places in their travels, but here was a specimen, lying on a rocky slope, with but little vegetation about it.