"This puts me in mind, Arthur," said Johnny, suddenly, while the last-mentioned subject was under discussion, "of a promise you made during the voyage, to tell me a story about a cannibal island upon which you were once cast, and the adventures you met with there. This is a good time to tell it: it is quite early, and the night so beautiful, that it would be a shame to think of going to bed for two or three hours yet; for my part, I feel as though I could sit here all night without getting sleepy." "A happy thought, Johnny," said Browne, "it will be the pleasantest possible way of passing the evening; therefore, Arthur, let us have the story." "O yes, the story! let us have the cannibal story by all means!" cried Max, "this is just the hour, and the place, to tell it with effect. The dash of the surf upon the reef; the whispering of the night wind in the tree-tops; the tall black groves on the shore yonder, and the water lying blacker still in their shadow, will all harmonise admirably with the subject." "I believe I did promise Johnny an account of an unintentional visit I once made to a place known as `the Cannibal Island of Angatan,' and I have no objection to redeem my pledge now, if desired. I wish you to take notice, however, at the outset, in order to avoid raising false expectations, that I do not promise you a `Cannibal Story'--how much my narrative deserves such a title, will appear when you have heard it." The call for the story being quite eager and unanimous, Arthur settled himself into a comfortable position, and after giving one or two of those preliminary ahems, common to the whole fraternity of story-tellers from time immemorial, he proceeded as follows:-- ARTHUR'S STORY OF THE CANNIBAL ISLAND OF ANGATAN.