"Grub," said the jocular coastguard. "What, harn't you found grub enough on this here island? Anyhow, if you do want something you'd better open that there bag and see what you can find." Bowler was too anxious to discover the missing ones to feel much appetite for food, and kept blowing his whistle as the boat slowly coasted the island. At length, to his unbounded joy, an answering shout was heard, and the shadowy forms of the four outcasts were seen standing on the pier from which they had started two hours before. Jubilant were the welcomes exchanged as the heroes of New Swishford once more counted their full number, and ensconced themselves snugly in the stern of Thomson's boat round his wonderful bag of food. It did not take long to chronicle the doings of Gayford's party. After about half an hour's journey they had been pulled up by the same chasm which had nearly proved too much for poor Tubbs. Finding it impossible to cross it, they had turned inland, and for a cheerful hour lost their way completely in the fog. At length, by means of walking in a straight line, they had come again to the coast, and after much searching had found the pier. And having found it, they resolved to keep it until the other party completed the circuit and found them where it left them. "And however did you find us out, Thomson?" inquired Gayford, after the repast had been done ample justice to. "Did your boat come ashore?" "No, she didn't, young gentleman; and I can tell you you'll get to know how to spell her name tolerable well before you've heard the last of her." "Oh, of course we shall get into a frightful row," said Bowler; "but how did you come to find us?" "Why, one of you artful young scholards left a letter to his ma on his table, open for everybody to see, talking some gammon about a West Indian island, and saying you was going to lay hold of the Long Stork, to get your hands in. I can tell you you _have_ got your hands in, my beauties. There's a cart-load of birches been ordered for you at the school already." These awful warnings failed to counteract the satisfaction of our heroes at finding themselves nearly back again in the region of blankets and hot porridge. Bowler in the name of the party magnificently presented Thomson with the odd shilling reserved for his benefit, and expressed his sorrow it was not more. But, he added, if the "Eliza" ever turned up, he might keep everything he found on board, including twelve tins of shrimps and peaches, a bottle of hair-oil, a set of cricket bails, and a copy of Young's _Night Thoughts_; whereat Thomson was moved with gratitude, and said they were as nice a lot of articles as ever he came across, and he did not mind saying so.