“Well, it was this way,” said Kidd. “When, in response to our polite request for supper, the ladies said there was nothing to eat on board, something had to be done, for we were all as hungry as bears, and we decided to go ashore at the first port and provision. Unfortunately the crew got restive, and when this floating frying-pan loomed into view, to keep them good-natured we decided to land and see if we could beg, borrow, or steal some supplies. We had to. Observations taken with the sextant showed that there was no port within five hundred miles; the island looked as if it might be inhabited at least by goats, and ashore we went, every man of us, leaving the House-boat safely anchored in the harbor. At first we didn’t mind the heat, and we hunted and hunted and hunted; but after three or four hours I began to notice that three of my sailors were shrivelling up, and Conrad began to act as if he were daft. Hawkins burst right before my eyes. Then Abeuchapeta got prismatic around the eyes and began to fade, and I noticed a slight iridescence about myself; and as for Morgan, he had the misfortune to lie down to take a nap in the sun, and when he waked up, his whole right side had evaporated. Then we saw what the trouble was. We’d struck this lava island, and were gradually succumbing to its intense heat. We rushed madly back to the harbor to embark; and our ship, gentlemen, and your House-boat, was slowly but surely disappearing over the horizon, and flying from the flag-staff at the fore were signals of farewell, with an unfeeling P.S. below to this effect: ‘_Don’t wait up for us_. _We may not be back until late_.’” There was a pause, during which Socrates laughed quietly to himself, while Abeuchapeta and the one-sided Morgan wept silently. “That, gentlemen of the Associated Shades, is all I know of the whereabouts of the House-boat,” continued Captain Kidd. “I have no doubt that the ladies practised a deception, to our discomfiture, and I must say that I think it was exceedingly clever—granting that it was desirable to be rid of us, which I don’t, for we meant well by them, and they would have enjoyed themselves.” “But,” cried Hamlet, “may they not now be in peril? They cannot navigate that ship.” “They got her out of the harbor all right,” said Kidd. “And I judged from the figure at the helm that Mrs. Noah had taken charge. What kind of a seaman she is I don’t know.” “Almighty bad,” ejaculated Shem, turning pale. “It was she who ran us ashore on Ararat.” “Well, wasn’t that what you wanted?” queried Munchausen. “What we wanted!” cried Shem. “Well, I guess not. You don’t want your yacht stranded on a mountain-top, do you? She was a dead loss there, whereas if mother hadn’t been in such a hurry to get ashore, we could have waited a month and landed on the seaboard.” “You might have turned her into a summer hotel,” suggested Munchausen.