I will not dwell on what took place now for some time, for I find that each year was very much like the last. We had our fields to sow, our crops to reap, our beasts to feed and train; and these cares kept our hands at work, and our minds free from the least thought of our lone mode of life.
I turn to my log as I write this, and on each page my eye falls on some thing that brings back to my mind the glad time we spent at Rock House.
CHAPTER XV.
In the spring time of the year, when the rain was past, Fritz and Jack set off on a trip in their boat to Shark Isle. The day was fine, the sky clear, and there was no wind, yet the waves rose and fell as in a storm.
"See!" cried Jack, "here comes a shoal of whales. They will eat us up."
"There is no fear of that," said Fritz; "whales will do us no harm, if we do not touch them." This proved to be the case. Though any one of them might have broke up the boat with a stroke of its tail, they did not touch it, but swam by in a line, two by two, like a file of troops.
On Shark Isle, near the shore, we had thrown up a
