“O, with my jackknife and a bit of flint,” said Bailey. “No trouble to get flint hereabouts. I got some cotton wool out of the paddin of my collar, and some dry moss, and coaxed some sparks into a blaze. O, you give me a knife, and I’ll draw fire out of any stone anywhars. The night I was drove ashore, I crept somewhar under the cliff, and staid there till mornin, and in the mornin the first thing I doos is to kindle a fire. I found the drift-wood, and this seemed to be the best place. Sea shells isn’t the best fare in the world, and sick am I of all sorts and kinds of shell fish; but glad was I when I lit on them that first day, when I walked about nearly starved. If it hadn’t ben for them thar shells it would ha’ ben all over with me. That’s so. And this here den wasn’t a bad place, considerin. In fact, I ben a lucky man in some things, seein that this is Anticosti, and fust and foremost, that I got off with my life; for every one of the rest was drownded, and I’ve never seen even a splinter of the boat since.” The recollection of this gloomy event reduced Bailey for a time to silence. The afternoon passed away. The wind increased. The sea grew rougher, and every hour served to increase the impossibility of a return that day. But the boys had already resigned themselves to this, and therefore awaited the evening, and looked forward to the night with calmness and in patience. At sunset the evening repast was spread out, and Bailey showed his usual ravenous appetite. “’Pears to me, boys,” said he, apologetically, “jest as if I couldn’t ever git enough to eat again. You’ll have to make allowances for a man as has been starvin for three weeks.” After tea they made their preparations for the night. First they went to see that the boat was safe, and to make doubly sure, they hauled her farther up the beach. Then they collected a quantity of drift-wood, with which they replenished their fire. “Thar,” said Bailey, “if so be as any vessel does pass by, they’ll be sure to see this here light, and they’ll know precious well as how some unfortunate coves is shipwrecked here, and is a signalin for help. But, misfortunately, I ben a lookin for-ard every night for help, and it never would come.” “It was your signal that drew us in,” said Arthur. “It was a success by day, at any rate.” They talked and meditated for another hour or so, and watched the blazing flames till they were tired. Then they all spread themselves out in Bailey’s “den,” and fell asleep. XXIII. _The Denizens of Bailey’s Den--Morning.--A Sail upon the Surface of the Sea.--The Spyglass.--Exciting Discovery to the lost Ones.--The strange Schooner.--Exchange of Signals.--The Excitement increases.--The Schooner draws nearer.--New Signals.--They take to the Boat.--Out to Sea.--Rough Water.--Another Sail.--A strange Suspicion.--Old Friends.--Pleasant Greetings.--Mrs. Corbet.--Obloquy heaped upon the Antelope and its venerable Commander.--Away to the Rescue._