"Marmalade--real marmalade! And a spoon too--there are heaps of spoons and cups and glasses, and a fire ready laid. And--see here--biscuits!" He produced a handful from his pocket. "I brought these things along because you said you were hungry." Still incredulous, distrusting her eyes, Tilda watched him dip out a small spoonful of marmalade and spread it on the biscuit. She took it and ate, closing her eyes. The taste was heavenly. "Oh, Arthur Miles, where are we?" "Why, on the Island. Didn't I tell you it was going to be all right?" He said it in mere elation, without a hint of reproach. "I'm so sorry." "Sorry? What is there to be sorry about? Come along." They climbed the turfy slope in silence, Tilda too deep in amaze for speech. By and by she asked irrelevantly-- "Where is 'Dolph?" "Eh? 'Dolph? He was with me five minutes ago. Off chasing rabbits, I expect. He has missed catching about two dozen already." "Isn't that his bark? Listen . . . away to the right." They stood still for a while. "Sounds like it," said the boy; "and yet not exactly like." "It's 'Dolph, and he's in some sort of trouble. That's not 'is usual bark." "We'd best see what it is, I suppose, and fetch him along." Arthur Miles struck aside from the line they had been following, and moved after the sound, not without reluctance. "It may be only a vision," he said gravely. "Remember the hounds that ran after Caliban and the others?" But as they trended towards the edge of the cliffs the barking grew louder, and was recognisably 'Dolph's; and so they came to a wide shelving amphitheatre of turf overgrown with furze and blackthorn. It curved almost as smoothly as the slope of a crater, and shelved to a small semi-circular bay. There, on the edge of the tide, danced 'Dolph yelping; and there, knee-deep in water, facing him with lowered head, stood a magnificent stag--yes, the stag of yesterday! When Arthur Miles caught at Tilda's arm and proclaimed this, at first she doubted. But he pointed to the antlers, glinting bright in the sunshine. He did not know the names for them, but whereas the left antler bore brow, bay, tray, and three on top, the top of the right antler, by some malformation, was not divided at all, and even a child could see this and guess it to be unusual. He was a noble stag nevertheless. The sun shone down on his russet-gold flanks as he stood there fronting the dog with his deadly brow-points. And 'Dolph kept to the edge of the water, leaping forward a little and anon leaping back, and at each leap emitting a futile yelp.