"Our boat was just outside the surf; where the crew were keeping her steady with their paddles. We hailed them, and plunged in the water to swim out to them. The natives, stung with shame and rage at having their prisoner torn from them in the very moment of triumph, with such reckless boldness, swarmed down to the beach and pursued us into the water. They seemed excited almost to frenzy at the prospect of our escape. Some standing upon the shore assailed the canoe with showers of stones, by which several of our men were wounded. Others swam out after us, as if about to endeavour to board the vessel, and did not turn back until we had hoisted our sail, and began to draw steadily from the land. "And thus ends the story of the Cannibal Island of Angatan." "Is that all?" inquired Johnny, looking somewhat disappointed. "Yes, that is all," answered Arthur, "it comes as near to being a cannibal story, as any thing I know. I did not see any one actually roasted and eaten, but if the savages had caught us, I suspect there would have been more to tell, and probably no one here to tell it." "But," persisted Johnny, "the story don't end there. You haven't told us about the rest of the voyage, and whether Rokoa found his brother at last." "O, that don't properly belong to _this_ story. According to all artistical rules I ought to end precisely where I have, in order to preserve the unities. But some other time, if you wish, I will tell you all about it." "Pray don't talk of artistical rules," exclaimed Max, "after showing yourself such an egregious bungler! You had there all the elements of a capital story, and you have just spoiled them." "`How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge,'" cried Browne, "`come now, unmuzzle your wisdom,' and specify the blunders of which he has been guilty. I say, with Touchstone, `instance briefly, shepherd; come, instance.'" "Why, in the first place, there was a miserly spirit of economy in regard to his men. He should have invested the narrative with a tragic interest, by killing Rokoa and Barton, at least;--being the narrator he couldn't kill himself conveniently;--but he might, with good effect have been `dangerously wounded.'" "But suppose," said Arthur, "that I wanted Rokoa to figure in a future story, and so couldn't afford to kill him just yet?" "A miserable apology! it evinces a lamentable poverty of imagination to make one character serve for two distinct tales." "Well, a further instance, `gentle shepherd,'" cried Browne, "`a more sounder instance.'"