Bang! Mark ran to the knoll, but Pan was there before him, and just in time to seize a wounded kangaroo by the hindquarter as he was paddling into a hole by the fore paws. Mark had seen the rabbit behind the fringe of fern move, and so knew it really was one, and so gently had he got the matchlock into position, moving it the sixteenth of an inch at a time, that Bevis did not know he was aiming. By the new sight he brought the gun to bear on a spot where he thought the rabbit’s shoulder must be, for he could not see it, but the rabbit had moved, and was struck in the haunch, and would have struggled out of reach had not Pan had him. The squirrel had disappeared, and the four parrots had flown at the report. “This island is full of things,” said Bevis, when Mark told him about the squirrel. “You find something new every hour, and I don’t know what we shan’t find at last. But you have had all the shooting and killed everything.” “Well, so I have,” said Mark. “The duck, and the jack, and the kangaroo. You _must_ shoot something next.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ End of Volume Two. Volume Three, Chapter I. NEW FORMOSA--BEVIS’S ZODIAC. They returned to the hut and prepared the kangaroo and the fish for boiling on the morrow; the fish was to be coiled up in the saucepan, and the kangaroo in the pot. Pan had the paunch, and with his great brown eyes glaring out of his head with gluttony, made off with it to his own private larder, where, after eating his full, he buried the rest. Pan had his own private den behind a thicket of bramble, where he kept some bones of a duck, a bacon bone, and now added this to his store. Here he retired occasionally from civilisation, like the king of the Polynesian island, to enjoy nature, away from the etiquette of his attendance at court on Bevis and Mark. Next, Mark with one of the old axes they had used to excavate the store-room, cut a notch in the edge of the cave, where it opened on the hut, large enough to stand the lantern in, as the chest would be required for the raft. They raked the potatoes out of the ashes, and had them for supper, with a damper, the last fragment of a duck, and cold tea, like gold-diggers. Bevis now recollected the journal he had proposed to keep, and got out the book, in which there was as yet only one entry, and that a single word, “Wednesday.” He set it on the table under the awning, with the lantern open before him. Outside the edge of the awning the moon filled the courtyard with her light. “Why, it’s only Thursday now,” said Mark. “We’ve only been here one full day, and it seems weeks.” “Months,” said Bevis. “Perhaps this means Wednesday last year.” “Of course: this is next year to that. How we must have altered! Our friends would not know us.” “Not even our mothers,” said Bevis. “Nor our jolly old mokes and governors.”