The Leader knew what his Scoutmaster meant. To push the mast over the edge of the quay would scratch the paint and roughen the wood. Making the end of his rope fast to a ring about a foot from the edge of the wharf, Atherton waited till Mr Trematon had performed a similar operation, the two ropes being twenty feet apart. Carefully the spar was rolled till it rested on the ropes, the "free ends" of which the Scoutmaster and Atherton held. "Push the mast over the quay, Green," said Mr Trematon. The pole, prevented from falling by the bights of the ropes, was now easily and slowly lowered into the water, and attached by its tapered end to the stern of the boat. "That went smoothly enough, sir," said Green. "Yes, two men can parbuckle a suitably-shaped object of thrice their combined weight. All the same it won't be such an easy task to haul the mast up the slope of Seal Island." Upon landing on the Island, Atherton took the tapering end on his shoulder, Mr Trematon and Green supporting the heavier end. "Don't keep step," urged the Scoutmaster, "or the mast will sway and possibly capsize us. Now, proceed." It was no light work carrying the thirty-foot spar up the steep path, but dogged energy prevailed, and before it was half-past six the flagstaff was in position, ready for the hoisting of the Union Jack. The first call on Hayes' bugle brought the Scouts from their tents. Baker and Pat Coventry, who overnight had been detailed for cooks, raced off' to construct earth ovens and light fires. Sayers, Scott, and Armstrong, the three Tenderfoots, marched off with buckets to bring a supply of water from the spring that the Scoutmaster had pointed out; Everest and Fraser took a boat and crossed to the mainland to procure milk, eggs and bacon from the farm; while the rest of the two patrols opened up tents and aired the bedding. At seven, coffee and bread and butter were served out: not a standing meal, but merely a "stay" before breakfast. This was followed by prayers, then all hands fell in for bathing parade. All except Atherton and Green were somewhat surprised when Mr Trematon led the way, not to the landing-place, but up hill in the direction of the ruined hermitage. "What's that?" exclaimed young Armstrong, as a small brown animal with a tuft of white on its tail darted into a hole on the site of the path. "Why, I believe it's a rabbit." "Look, there are dozens of them," added Everest, pointing to a hollow about two hundred yards off. "There they go as hard as they can." "Yes, the Island is overrun with them, and so is most of Sir Gwinnear's estate. The farmers look upon them as a pest, and destroy as many as they can." "Why pests, sir?" asked Phillips.