"What do you make of this path?" said Dave. "I had an idea the island was uninhabited."
"It is supposed to be," answered Captain Sanders. "But there is no reason why somebody shouldn't live here."
Presently they came to a fine spring of water. Near by lay an old rusty cup, and a little further on a broken bucket.
"Somebody has been here and that recently," was Dave's comment. "I hope we are on the trail of Merwell and Jasniflf."
They walked on a little further and then, of a sudden. Captain Sanders halted the boys and pointed up into one of the trees.
"Wild pigeons!" exclaimed Dave. "And hundreds of them! Shall I give them a couple of barrels, captain?"
"Might as well, lad. Wild pigeons are good eating, especially when you are hungry. Get as many of 'em as you can."
Dave approached a little closer and took aim with care. Bang! went the shotgun, and a wild fluttering and flying followed. Bang! went the second barrel of the weapon, and then, as the smoke cleared away, the boys and the captain saw seven of the pigeons come down to the ground. Several others fluttered around and Phil caught one and wrung its neck, and Roger laid another low with a stick he had picked up.
