There was, indeed, no note of discord whatever in the symphony we played together on that sweet Coral Island; and I am now persuaded that this was owing to our having been all tuned to the same key, namely, that of _love_! Yes, we loved one another with much fervency while we lived on that island; and, for the matter of that, we love each other still.
And while I am on this subject, or rather the subject that just preceded it--namely, the tides--I may here remark on another curious natural phenomenon.

We found that there was little or no twilight in this island.

We had a distinct remembrance of the charming long twilight at home, which some people think the most delightful part of the day, though for my part I have always preferred sunrise; and when we first landed, we used to sit down on some rocky point or eminence, at the close of our day's work, to enjoy the evening breeze; but no sooner had the sun sunk below the horizon than all became suddenly dark.

This rendered it necessary that we should watch the sun when we happened to be out hunting, for to be suddenly left in the dark while in the woods was very perplexing, as, although the stars shone with great beauty and brilliancy, they could not pierce through the thick umbrageous boughs that interlaced above our heads.
But, to return: After having told all we could to Peterkin about the Diamond Cave under Spouting Cliff, as we named the locality, we were wending our way rapidly homewards, when a grunt and a squeal were borne down by the land breeze to our ears.
"That's the ticket!" was Peterkin's remarkable exclamation, as he started convulsively, and levelled his spear.
"Hist!" cried Jack; "these are your friends, Peterkin.

They must have come over expressly to pay you a friendly visit, for it is the first time we have seen them on this side the island." "Come along!" cried Peterkin, hurrying towards the wood, while Jack and I followed, smiling at his impatience.
Another grunt and half a dozen squeals, much louder than before, came down the valley.