They lost no time in starting to collect material for their craft. First, they selected a clump of tall, feathery bamboo near the water’s edge and began to cut down the stems. Each pole was upward of forty feet long and six inches thick; and, as the joints of which they were composed were filled with water, they had to tap each one to permit the liquid to drain; otherwise they would be too heavy to float. The afternoon was half over when they began the latter task. “How about getting something for supper?” David asked. “This job makes me feel as if I could eat a dozen partridges.” “And me,” Miguel agreed, “and a few palm buds and a _liter_ of milk, too.” The two started away, stealthily following one of the narrow trails they had made and had no difficulty in securing a number of the stupid tinamou that were so plentiful. To collect the palm buds and milk required a greater length of time, and darkness had fallen when they retraced their steps to camp. However, a full moon, high in the heavens, sent soft shafts of light through the branches overhead, where the jungle was less dense; and when they reached the edge of the forest where their camp was located, a flood of silvery moonlight met their eyes. “Santo Paulo! Our house is gone!” It was Miguel’s voice, filled with consternation. He was in the lead and had stopped suddenly, hands raised in horror at the unexpected sight. “Gone?” David pushed forward, incredulous that such a thing could have happened. “It can’t be gone because there was no wind to blow it away.” “But it _is_ gone. Look! Where is it?” Miguel was still standing where he had stopped. “We must be in the wrong place, but, no, this is the spot.” David was puzzled. He approached cautiously. “It’s been broken down to the ground,” he exclaimed. “Somebody or something has been here while we were away.” They dared not advance into the clearing where the shelter had stood because there was the possibility that their marauding visitor was in the neighborhood, awaiting their return. But from their position they could see that the structure had been crushed to the earth and completely wrecked, as if by men or some gigantic animal. After watching a while they returned to the heavier forest to spend the night. “I told you it was a spirit,” Miguel insisted, “when it visited us that first night. Now do you believe it?” “No, I don’t.” “Then what is it?” “I don’t know, but we’ll find out.” They rebuilt the hut on the same spot. The island was so small that one place was as good as another and the old location possessed the advantage of having been cleared of underbrush.