“I don’t imagine it is a nice place to visit,” put in Frank, who was listening to the talk. “There are many better places, I admit. Yet, as it is right on our way we can very well stop off a day at Cape Haytien and take a look around.” “Somebody said they had earthquakes there,” put in Sam. “All these islands are of volcanic origin and earthquakes are frequent. Hayti has a mountain range from one end almost to the other, and one peak, Cibao, is seven thousand feet high. The mountains are covered with valuable timber and the island exports large quantities of mahogany and other woods. The mountains are, like those north of Santiago de Cuba, full of rich minerals, but so far only a few mines have been opened.” Directly after this conversation the professor brought out his largest map of the islands and the boys looked it over with care. They found that Hayti lay about equally distant from Cuba and Porto Rico. On the west was the Windward Passage, separating it from Cuba, and on the east the Mona Passage, separating it from Porto Rico. “The Mona Passage,” mused Sam, “That’s the Monkey Passage, that we passed through on our way from New York to Venezuela.” “I see Port-au-Prince is the capital city,” remarked Frank. “But that is about a hundred miles south of our stopping place.” The evening proved a most delightful one and nobody thought of going to bed until a late hour. As a consequence hardly any of the boys felt like arising early, and it was not until the breakfast gong had sounded the second time that Mark and Frank leaped up. “I didn’t know it was so late!” exclaimed Frank, as he glanced at his watch, and then he fairly flew into his clothing, and so did Mark. They had just slipped on their shoes when there came a knock on the stateroom door and they admitted Sam. “See here, who put this stuff in my shoes--” began Sam, when he noticed Mark kicking his foot on a locker. Then Frank did the same. A moment later they were sitting down trying to pull off their shoes, which refused to budge. “By cracky! I can’t do a thing with mine!” puffed Mark. “Whatever has gotten into them?” “It’s pitch, that’s what it is,” growled Sam. “Here is some on the tongue of my shoe. I can’t budge my feet.” “And the stuff smarts like mischief,” came from Frank. “Say, do you know what I think?” he went on. “It’s a joke of Hockley’s,” came from both of the others. “Exactly.” “If it is, we’ll pay him back with interest,” said Mark, grimly. The pitch was of the extra sticky kind and clung to them like fish glue. They stamped and kicked, pulled and hauled, but all to no purpose. The uproar was so great that Professor Strong came to the stateroom to see what was the matter. In the meantime Hockley heard the rumpus and smiled broadly. “It worked!” he murmured. “Now wait until the finish!” The finish was not long in coming. There was a tramping of feet before the door and a knock from Professor Strong. “Yes, sir, coming!” called out Hockley, sleepily.