The new possessor had a proper pride in this acquisition, and wore it in his village after the descent; indeed, he had the honour of being introduced to the commodore whilst clad in it. ‘Ta-ma-té,’ who, with universal assent, had established a genial despotism over the bivouac, issued a decree that every one should make a joke, and that the joke adjudged the best should be sent to a newspaper for publication. Either this was trying the loyalty of his contented subjects too severely, or the labour of incubating jokes was too great for wearied mountaineers, for, after one or two feeble endeavours to comply with his edict, a general silence fell upon the company. In the morning, after a not absolutely perfect night’s rest, deficiency of water rendered abstaining from even an attempt at breakfast compulsory. There was little, therefore, to delay the ceremony of hoisting the union-jack—providently brought for the purpose by Lieutenant Fenton—upon the newly crowned summit. A suitable tree was cut down and lopped; the flag was secured to it; and a hole having been dug in which to insert it, the flagstaff was reared amidst a very good imitation of three cheers from the natives, and the real thing from the white men. The descent then began; and much of it was effected by a different route from that of the ascent. Orchids, ferns, and other plants were collected on the way. Sore hands, barked shins, added to want of sleep and to a long fast, made the descent seem to some even more fatiguing than the climb of the day before. The interval before water was reached appeared excessive, and before a halt could be made for breakfast, interminable. By two P.M. the travellers were back on board their ships, proud of the distinction of being the first to ascend a mountain summit in Eastern New Guinea. TREASURE TROVE. A STORY IN FOUR CHAPTERS.—CHAP. IV. Upon Jasper Rodley’s entrance into the house, Bertha had retired to her own room, pleading that she was suffering from the excitement, the fatigue, and the exposure she had undergone; but she could hear a conversation kept up in the dining-room until a late hour, and instinctively felt that Rodley had not come again without a reason. To her surprise, the next morning she found that both her father and his visitor were already downstairs, Jasper Rodley looking out of the window and whistling to himself, the captain with evident agitation marked on his movements and face. ‘Bertha,’ he said, without even giving her the usual morning greeting, ‘Mr Rodley has come here especially to say that from information he has received, it will be necessary for you at once to decide what course you intend to adopt. There is a chance, he says, that the great evil hanging over our heads may be averted, but it depends upon your answer.’