Early the next morning, preparations for the killing began. Armed with clubs, tin pans, flags and pieces of cloth, the men made their way along the beach between the big herd of elephants and the sea, and took up stands at intervals of a few hundred feet apart. Then, at a signal from Cap’n Pem, they advanced towards the elephants, shouting, hallowing, beating on their tins, waving their cloth and flags and jumping and prancing about like a lot of savages. Frightened and surprised at these strange figures advancing towards them, and dazed by the noise and fluttering rags, the huge, timid creatures hobbled and wriggled their way up the shingle, wrinkling their noses and barking in terror and stupidly getting further and further from their native element in their sole desire to keep away from the men. Wedged together in a closely-packed mass, the giant seals impeded one another’s progress and added to their terror until, presently, their retreat was a wild stampede towards the higher ground some distance from the sea.

It was a strange and remarkable sight to see these immense, powerful creatures with their strong, sharp teeth striving to escape the men and as frightened as a flock of sheep, when any one of the monsters could easily have crushed a man’s head in his jaws with a single bite. To the boys, it seemed pitiful and they were really sorry to think of such harmless, splendid creatures being thus ruthlessly slaughtered merely for the sake of their oil. But their sympathy for the elephants was not as great as it would have been had the animals appeared more helpless and gentle, for despite their timidity, the sea elephants, and especially the old bulls, were savage, ferocious-looking beasts. Naturally ugly, even when at rest, they appeared veritable monsters as their small, wicked eyes gleamed red and bloodshot, their trunklike snouts lifted above their great red mouths, their huge, sharp teeth gleamed and snapped and their snarling barks filled the air with a deafening roar.

Although they had been assured that the elephants were harmless and had been eye witnesses of the fact that the men could walk among them, kick them and even kill them without the least attempt at resistance on the animals’ part, yet neither Tom nor Jim could summon up enough courage to approach within reach of the waving, threatening heads and snapping jaws. But the men had no such fears and when, at last, the herd had been driven to the selected spot, they went among them, driving the big, full-grown animals into small bunches and ruthlessly clubbing them over the heads.

As the killing began and the heavy bludgeons thumped on the heads of the elephants, their humanlike sighs and screams, their choking, gurgling death coughs and the terrorized barks of their fellows were more than the two boys could stand. Hurrying from the scene of the slaughter, they made their way past the camp and started up the hillside beyond. It was hard climbing, for the sharp, volcanic rocks made footing uncertain, the scant gray moss and lichens and dried stiff grass were slippery and the hill was steep. Here and there, albatrosses were squatting on the ground and when the boys approached they merely hissed and struck out with their strong, hooked beaks, refusing to move. They were such enormous birds and appeared so vicious with their china-blue eyes and menacing bills, that the boys had no desire to get at close quarters in order to see if they had eggs; but they soon discovered that by shooing at the birds and showing no signs of fear they could force the albatrosses from their nests and they were greatly elated at sight of the enormous, rough, brownish eggs in little hollows of the stony ground.

Amusing themselves with the albatrosses, and taking their time, the boys reached the summit of the hill and seated themselves upon a rock ledge to rest. From where they sat, they could look down upon the camp and the beach and could see the men, still busily killing the elephants. But the slaughter evidently was nearly over, and presently, they saw the men stooping over and evidently engaged in stripping the skins and blubber from the carcasses. In the other direction, they looked down upon a sloping hillside ending in a small, bowl-shaped valley which the boys at first sight thought filled with snow; but a second glance showed it to be covered with great white birds.

“I wonder what they are,” said Tom. “They don’t look like albatrosses and they’re not penguins. Let’s go down and see.”

Rising, the boys were about to descend when their attentions were attracted by peculiar sounds apparently issuing from the earth under their feet.

“What’s that?” ejaculated Jim. “It seems to come right out of the ground.”

Getting on their knees, the boys searched everywhere among the rocks, expecting to find some strange creature in hiding there, but while they searched diligently, and although the queer grunting sounds continued, they could find no trace of any living thing. Puzzled, they stopped hunting and listened, placing their ears to the ground, trying to trace the sounds, but to no purpose, for the noises seemed to come from all about and were so mysterious and baffling that the boys began to feel nervous.

“It’s the weirdest thing I ever heard,” declared Tom. “I’m beginning to think the place’s haunted.”

At last, giving it up as a bad job, the two boys started forward and a moment later clambered down over a projecting mass of huge irregular rocks. The next instant they stopped short, for the baffling sounds came clear and distinct from among the rocks. Approaching cautiously, the boys peered into the dark cavelike openings and the next moment burst into laughter.

“There’s the ghost,” exclaimed Jim, “I wonder what they are.” Far in among the bowlders were several snow-white birds with pretty pinkish or salmon-colored bills and bright, beady eyes. Reaching in his arm, Tom seized one of the creatures, and despite its protests, drew it out and revealed two handsome brown eggs where it had been sitting.

“Oh, I know now,” declared Tom. “It’s a sheathbill, don’t you remember Cap’n Pem pointed them out to us at sea. Look, here’s the sheath on its bill.”

Satisfied at having solved the mystery of the strange sounds, and having identified the bird, the boys released the creature which immediately fluttered back to its nest, ruffling its feathers and croaking in such an indignant, offended way that the boys roared with laughter. Continuing down the hill, the boys approached the first of the great bird colony in the valley and found they were big, white Molly Mokes and another species of bird which they had not seen before.

“They’re some sort of albatrosses,” insisted Tom. “But they’re not like the others. They’re smaller and have bright yellow beaks and they’re much whiter.”

“Yes, and they’ve greeny-brown eyes instead of blue,” added Jim.

“I’ll bet I know what they are,” Tom announced “I’ve been thinking, and I remember reading about a kind of albatross called yellow-nosed. These have yellow noses so I’ll bet that’s what they are.”

It was a strange sensation for the boys to find themselves surrounded by countless thousands of the big, white birds which showed not the least fear, but pecked boldly at the boys’ garments as they picked their way among the nesting birds.

As they gained the farther side of the valley they came to a low, rocky ridge, and curious to see what lay beyond, they clambered up its side and found themselves once more in view of the sea.

“Look at those penguins!” cried Jim, as he caught sight of a great flock of the queer birds. “Gee, but they’re big fellows!”

“They’re not like the others,” replied Tom. “Say, we are finding a lot of queer things to-day.”

“And those don’t look like sea elephants on the beach either,” said Jim. “They look smaller and different, somehow.”

“I believe you’re right,” agreed Tom. “Let’s go down and have a look.”

As they approached the creatures basking upon the shingle, the boys saw that they were indeed very different from the huge sea elephants, for they were much smaller, they lacked the long snouts and their bodies were darker in color and beautifully spotted.

“Don’t let’s go too near,” exclaimed Jim. “I don’t like their looks.”

“Oh, don’t be a fraid-cat,” urged Tom. “They won’t hurt us. Of course, we won’t go among them. I don’t trust them as much as all that.”

Rather nervously, but anxious to see the odd creatures at closer range, the boys walked towards the herd of animals and were within a few rods of the nearest when the giant seal suddenly reared himself up, opened a huge red mouth filled with enormous, sharp-pointed teeth, and with a bellowing howl threw himself bodily towards the two boys. Instantly, with terror-stricken cries, the boys turned and fled, never stopping until they were well up the hillside.

“Gosh, but he was fierce!” ejaculated Jim, when they regained their breath. “I told you we’d better not go near.”

“You can bet I won’t, next time,” Tom assured him. “But they’re no sea elephants anyhow.”

“Let’s go along the beach and have a look at the penguins,” suggested Jim. “We can keep away from those beasts, back here.”

Giving the fierce, spotted seals a wide berth the two boys descended to the beach and strolled towards the penguin colony. Many odd shells and other interesting things were scattered on the sand, and, as the boys stooped to pick some up, they noticed many rounded, glittering pebbles.

“Why, they’re moonstones!” exclaimed Tom, “and thousands of them!”

There was no question of it. The beach was strewn with the translucent, handsome stones and the boys busied themselves filling their pockets with the gems. So intent were they, that they failed to notice a low, gray cloud about the mountain top which drifted down towards the shores in little wisps and detached masses until, feeling chilly, Tom looked up and gave a surprised cry. On every side they were surrounded with an impenetrable, dense fog and only a small area of the beach about them was visible.

Seaward they could see the lazy, green rollers coming mysteriously from a gray bank. They could hear the muffled cries of birds and the occasional flapping of wings; but not a sign of the hill or of the mountains could be seen.

“Gosh, we’d better be getting back!” exclaimed Jim anxiously. “It’s getting thicker every minute.”

Hurrying from the beach, they commenced climbing the hill, but long before they reached the summit the beach and waves were hidden from view and the boys seemed shut in as if by a soft, gray wall.

“We’ll have to be careful or we’ll get lost,” cautioned Tom. “We should have brought a compass.”

“What good would that do?” demanded Jim. “We don’t know what direction the camp is.”

“No, but we could be sure we were not moving in a circle,” explained Tom sagely. “But come along, we can find that Molly Moke rookery and then go up the hill and find the cave where the sheathbills are and go straight down from there.”

Striving to keep a straight course by listening to the breaking seas at their backs, the boys picked their way over the ridge, and descending the further side, were overjoyed to find themselves among the nesting Molly Mokes.

“We’re all right now!” said Tom confidently. “If we walk straight across and up the hill to the cave we can’t go wrong. Why, I don’t believe we went over half a mile from camp anyway.”

Shut in by the dense fog, the boys could hear the disturbed cries of the thousands of birds about them, but the birds themselves were only visible when within a few feet and even then they had a strange, ghostly appearance. Several times the boys actually bumped into them, and they were constantly compelled to turn to right or left to avoid stepping on the birds. But at last, they reached the scattered, outlying nests and found the ground rising before them.

“Funny, this hill doesn’t seem half as long as it did before,” commented Jim as they gained the summit. “Say, listen! What’s that?”

For a moment the two paused, straining their ears to catch a faint sound that issued from the fog ahead. And then, as the truth dawned upon them, they gazed at each other in dismay. The noise was the breaking waves. They were back at the spot from which they had started. They had walked in a circle and were lost! Presently, however, as they recovered from the disappointment and shock of their discovery, their confidence returned.

“We’ll have to try again,” declared Tom. “We must have got turned around among those Molly Mokes. I’ve a scheme, Jimmy. When we get there this time, we’ll separate a little and one of us will walk ahead a few yards and then stop, and then the other can walk straight to him and then stop and the other can go on ahead as far as he can be seen and stop and in that way we might be able to go pretty straight. Anyway, we won’t go in a circle.”

“That may help,” admitted Jim, “but we’ll have to kick the birds out of the way to do it.”

“Bother the birds!” ejaculated Tom. “We’ve got to get to camp.”

“I wonder how long fogs last here,” said Jim as once more they made their way up the ridge. “Perhaps if we just waited a while it would lift.”

“I don’t know,” replied the other, “but I heard Cap’n Pem say that sometimes the island’s foggy for weeks at a time.”

Once again they reached the Molly Moke rookery and at once proceeded to put Tom’s plan into practice. By shoving the birds out of their path and ruthlessly trampling on the eggs, the boys made their way across the valley in a fairly direct line; but as they gained the slope of the hill a sudden misgiving seized Jim.

“Say, Tom,” he exclaimed, “how do we know we’ve crossed in the right direction? Don’t you remember the hill went all around the valley—it was like a big bowl—and we may be on the opposite side from where we came down.”

“We can’t help that,” stated Tom. “When we get to the top we’ll mark the spot and walk to the right ’til we find the sheathbills’ cave and if we don’t find it, we’ll come back and try to the left.”

Toiling up the hillside, panting with the exertion and soaked to the skin by the clinging moisture, the two boys at last reached the summit.

“Perhaps they’d hear us in camp if we yelled,” suggested Jim.

But their cries seemed muffled in the fog and no answering call came to them, so, piling several stones in a little pyramid, the two turned to the right and carefully picked their way along the rocky ridge.

“We didn’t come over at this place, I know,” said Jim decisively as they came to a jagged, upstanding mass of rock.

“No,” admitted Tom. “but it may have been just a little to one side of the place where we did cross. Come along.”

In order to pass the ledge, the two boys were compelled to descend a short distance on the hill and so dense was the fog on the summit that the rocks disappeared from sight ere they had taken a dozen steps. Judging that they passed the obstruction, they once more turned up the slope and tramped on, hoping each moment that they would be in luck and would come upon the pile of bowlders where they had discovered the sheathbills.

“Say, we must have been way off our course,” panted Jim at last. “We’ve been walking for half an hour and seems to me we’re going down hill.”

“I thought that too,” replied Tom, “but I guess it’s just the effect of the fog.”

For ten minutes more, the boys continued and then, coming to a mass of fallen rock, they found further progress barred by a bold perpendicular cliff.

“Well, we can’t go any further,” observed Tom. “Now we’ll have to go back and try the other direction.”

“I’m going to rest first,” insisted Jim. “There’s no use in getting all tired out.”

Seating themselves upon a piece of rock, the boys were talking over their predicament when, suddenly, there was a cracking sound. The boys felt their seat moving and leaped aside as the mass of rock gave way and went crashing down the hill. But while the boys had saved themselves from an injury, yet they had not saved themselves from a tumble, and as they jumped from the rock their feet shot out from under them and rolling and sliding, they followed after the stone for a dozen rods before they could check their headlong course.

At the same instant they heard a tremendous crash from below followed by a shout:

“Hi, there! What’n tarnation’s broke loose? Derned ef the whole mounting ain’t a-tumbling down!”

With wild yells the boys leaped to their feet, and regardless of danger, raced down the hillside. Before they had covered a hundred feet they reached level ground and plumped full into Cap’n Pem, bowling the old man over like a ninepin.

“Avast there!” spluttered the old whaleman. “What in thunderation’s up? Fust a chunk o’ mounting an’ then you two scallawags! What in Sam Hill ye in sech a hurry fer? Bear a chasin’ on ye?”

“No,” stammered Tom. “We were lost. Where are we?”

“Where be ye?” reiterated the old man. “Where be ye? Why, right ’longside o’ the shack a course. Where’d ye think ye wuz? Derned queer way ye have o’ comin’ home!”