"Are there any cannibals here?" asked Mr. Tarbill.
"I don't believe there is a soul on the island besides ourselves,"
answered the captain.
"I can't go to sleep if there are cannibals," groaned the nervous
passenger.
As late as it was, Bob, Ned and the captain took a tramp around the
island. It was not over a quarter of a mile long and an eighth of
a mile wide. There was fairly good walking close to the shore, but
the interior was a mass of stunted trees, thorny bushes and long
trailing vines, to get through which was impossible.
"I haven't seen what I'd like most to see," said the captain, after
the walk was ended.
"What is that?" questioned Bob.
"A spring of good, fresh water."
"That's so--we didn't see any spring at all!" exclaimed Ned Scudd.
"Too bad! We need water."
The castaways were thoroughly tired out, and that night all went to
bed and slept soundly. Nothing came to disturb them, although at
daybreak Mr. Tarbill leaped up in alarm.
"Hark!" he cried. "Somebody is coming! It must be the cannibals!"
"What!" exclaimed Captain Spark, and he jumped up, followed by the
others.
Then all listened. From the interior of the little island came a
most unearthly screaming.
"Somebody is being murdered!" gasped Mr. Tarbill, and sank on his
knees. "Oh, oh, why did I leave home!"
They listened intently, and then Mr. Carr set up a laugh.
"What is it?" asked Bob, curiously.
"Parrots, my boy, nothing but parrots.
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