At the first streak of dawn she fled from her place of torture, and after plunging her face and hands in the river, which did her a world of good, she went off and entered the jungle, and searched it closely, so far as she could penetrate it. Soon she heard "Miss Rolleston" called in anxious tones. But she tossed her little head and revenged herself for her night of agony by not replying. However, Nature took her in hand; imperious hunger drew her back to her late place of torture; and there she found a fire, and Hazel cooking cray-fish. She ate the crayfish heartily, and drank cocoanut milk out of half a cocoanut, which the ingenious Hazel had already sawn, polished and mounted for her. After that, Hazel's whole day was occupied in stripping a tree that stood on the high western promontory of the bay, and building up the materials of a bonfire a few yards from it, that, if any whaler should stray that way, they might not be at a loss for means to attract her attention. Welch was very ill all day, and Miss Rolleston nursed him. He got about toward evening, and Miss Rolleston asked him, rather timidly, if he could put her up a bell-rope. "Why, yes, miss," said Welch, "that is easy enough; but I don't see no bell." Oh, she did not want a bell--she only wanted a bell-rope. Hazel came up during this conversation, and she then gave her reason. "Because, then, if Mr. Welch is ill in the night, and wants me, I could come to him. Or--" finding herself getting near the real reason she stopped short. "Or what?" inquired Hazel, eagerly. She replied to Welch. "When tigers and things come to me, I can let you know, Mr. Welch, if you have any curiosity about the result of their visit." "Tigers!" said Hazel, in answer to this side slap; "there are no tigers here; no large animals of prey exist in the Pacific." "What makes you think that?" "It is notorious. Naturalists are agreed." "But I am not. I heard noises all night. And little I expected that anything of me would be left this morning, except, perhaps, my back hair. Mr. Welch, you are clever at rigging things--that is what you call it--and so please rig me a bell-rope, then I shall not be eaten alive without creating some _little_ disturbance." "I'll do it, miss," said Welch, "this very night."