"By Jove! I never thought of that," said Beeby. "I'll do it," and he hurried off to get his camera. Dick was busy for the next few minutes, talking to Captain Barton, but his attention was suddenly taken by a series of howls and yells, mingled with barks and growls, coming from the main deck. "By Jinks!" Dick exclaimed, as he ran up the companionway, "I guess Grit is after Hans again." He was just in time to see his bulldog shaking something in his strong jaws, while Beeby, who had arisen from a sprawling position on the deck, was crying out: "Here, Grit, old fellow, give it to me! That's a good dog! Don't smash it, now! Come on, old fellow. I didn't mean you any harm; honest, I didn't!" Grit only growled the harder, and shook more vigorously the object he held. "What's he got?" asked Dick. "My camera," replied the fleshy lad. "I was taking a snapshot of him, sitting alone--the first chance I had at him--but when he heard the shutter click, I guess he must have imagined I was trying to poison him. He made a jump for me, and----" "Did he bite you?" asked the young millionaire, anxiously. "No, he only grabbed the camera away from me, and now he's trying to make splinters of it. Drop it, Grit, I say!" But the bulldog, growling and snarling, never heeded. "Here, Grit!" called Dick in a low voice. "Bring it here!" The dog obeyed instantly, and the camera, rather the worse for wear, as Paul said, was laid on the deck. "Here it is--guess it isn't hurt much," observed Dick. "If it is, I'll get you a new one, Beeby, and you can sell that to Henry Darby, for old scrap iron and leather." "Humph! It looks pretty well chewed," spoke Beeby, "but I guess it's all right. I hope he didn't shake it so hard that he fogged the film." "Maybe he took some views on his own account," suggested Frank Bender. "I'm going to develop the roll and find out," declared the fat youth, and he came back presently from the improvised dark room, to report that the only good picture on the strip of film was the one of Grit. It had been taken just before the dog sprang, and was a characteristic likeness. Several days passed, with good weather to make the cruise more enjoyable. Senor Alantrez maintained his watch for the first glimpse of Stone Island, the others taking observations now and again through the powerful glasses. It was toward the close of a warm, lazy afternoon, when Dick and his chums were sitting on deck, under an awning, sipping iced lemonade and eating some thin crackers which the steward served to them, that from the lookout in the crow's nest, at the forward mast, there came a cry: "Land ho!" "Where away?" demanded Captain Barton. "Dead ahead!" "Then, that must be what we are looking for," went on the commander. "I thought it was about time we picked it up."