“I can’t go to sleep if there are cannibals,” groaned the nervous passenger.

As late as it was, Bob, Ned and the captain took a tramp around the island.  It was not over a quarter of a mile long and an eighth of a mile wide.  There was fairly good walking close to the shore, but the interior was a mass of stunted trees, thorny bushes and long trailing vines, to get through which was impossible.

“I haven’t seen what I’d like most to see,” said the captain, after the walk was ended.

“What is that?” questioned Bob.

“A spring of good, fresh water.”

“That’s so—­we didn’t see any spring at all!” exclaimed Ned Scudd.  “Too bad!  We need water.”

The castaways were thoroughly tired out, and that night all went to bed and slept soundly.  Nothing came to disturb them, although at daybreak Mr. Tarbill leaped up in alarm.

“Hark!” he cried.  “Somebody is coming!  It must be the cannibals!”

“What!” exclaimed Captain Spark, and he jumped up, followed by the others.

Then all listened.  From the interior of the little island came a most unearthly screaming.

“Somebody is being murdered!” gasped Mr. Tarbill, and sank on his knees.  “Oh, oh, why did I leave home!”

They listened intently, and then Mr. Carr set up a laugh.

“What is it?” asked Bob, curiously.

“Parrots, my boy, nothing but parrots.”

“To be sure—­I should have knowed it,” came from the captain.  “They allers screech like that in the morning.”

“Are you sure they are parrots?” asked the nervous passenger.

“Dead certain,” answered Mr. Carr.  “If you don’t believe it, just go over to yonder trees and shoo them up into the air.”

“I—­I don’t think I care to do that—­they might fly at me and peck me.”

“Well, they are parrots—­and they won’t hurt you if you leave ’em alone.”

During the morning the search for a spring of water was resumed.  At last they found several pools, the water coming up in them from underground.  But the birds used the pools for drinking places and they were consequently far from clean.

“How long are we to stay on this island?” asked Mr. Tarbill, while they were eating a breakfast of broiled birds, fish, and crackers.

“Not very long, I’m thinking,” answered the captain.  “In a storm it wouldn’t be a very safe place.  The water must sweep the land pretty well, and our boat would be stove to pieces.”

“But where are you going?”

“We’ll try to make that big island I spoke about,” went on the captain.  Then of a sudden, he bent closer to the nervous man.  “What’s that on your watch chain?” he demanded,

“My watch chain?”

“Yes.  It looks like a tiny compass to me.”

“Why—­er—­it is a compass,” stammered Mr. Tarbill.

“And you never told us that you had it!” roared the captain.