He was a crack miniature-rifle shot, but although he understood the principle of a twelve-bore gun, he was an absolute novice at the task that had been deputed to him. A few hundred yards brought him to the fringe of the rabbit warren--an extensive undulating tract of gorse-covered heath liberally honeycombed with holes. Pulling a couple of cartridges from his pocket, Phillips loaded; then, every sense on the alert, he moved cautiously forward. Yard after yard he walked at a slow pace, but, although he saw hundreds of the swiftly moving little animals far beyond range, not one accommodatingly showed itself to be shot at. "That's jolly strange," muttered the Scout. "When a crowd of us came over here there were rabbits running about everywhere; now they keep a very respectful distance. I wonder if they know a gun when they see one?" Phillips halted to straighten his back and to wipe the moisture from his forehead. "What's that?" he exclaimed to himself, as the sound of a sharp thud came from almost under his feet. He listened intently. The noise was repeated. "I wonder if there's a cave underneath here?" he thought. "Seems almost as if there's a man using a pick, only the noise is rather different." He knelt down and placed his ear against the ground. A wasp, busy amongst the gorse, promptly buzzed so close that he jumped hastily to his feet. "Bothered if I can understand it," he said to himself. "I'll mention it to Atherton when he comes back. The Island seems chock full of mysterious noises. But, there, I shan't get any rabbits if I fool about here, so here goes." On and on he went till he neared the cliff on the eastern side of the Island, but without the chance of a shot. "The rabbits are not out to-day, that's evident," he muttered. "Perhaps they will be more in evidence this afternoon. I'll get back to the camp, for the longer I stay the more the other fellows will expect me to bring back." With his gun under his arm, Phillips set off at a steady pace, following almost the same route that he had taken on his outward journey. Half way across the warren, a rabbit suddenly darted out of the furze bush and tore off as hard as it could away from the lad, at the same time making a wide curve to the right. Before Phillips could fully cock his gun and raise it to his shoulder the rabbit was beyond ordinary range. The Scout took a rapid aim and pressed the trigger. With a report that, compared with the crack of a miniature rifle, was like a cannon going off, the gun kicked and sent the lad spinning. In his excitement he forgot the pain of the blow, for the rabbit was sprawling on the ground. "Got one, at any rate," exclaimed Phillips, gleefully. Placing his gun on the ground with more haste than care the Scout ran towards his prize; but before he had covered half the distance the rabbit contrived to regain its feet and crawl down a hole.