236 OVER ON THE ISLAND

but I didn’t have time to get to her,” said the keeper. “She was a helluva fine cow, too,” he continued regretfully.

We turned to look at the cape. Stretching out from the point for about two miles was a long low reef of coloured stones. Swarms of gulls perched and pro- menaded there, and then with wild cries sailed off into the clouds. It did not look far out to the end. It really could not be more than a couple of hundred yards, we thought, and we set off. We did not reach the end. In fact, we did not go more than halfway. Gladly we returned to the shore, footsore and dis- illusioned. No wonder mariners fear the reef; no wonder ships get caught here. Soon the lighthouse will have to be moved back. For its base will soon be a few more yards added to the lonely reef. There is, nevertheless, something extremely fascinating about this reef with its slender sirenish finger stretching far out to catch the unwary mariner. A cruel reef, but beautiful even in its treachery.

On the cliffs some youngsters had been hard at work. Cliff dwellings there were in abundance. They were well laid out, and completely equipped. Their living-room was tastefully furnished with cans and broken dishes. No doubt it looked inviting—to their dolls. The tomato can seemed rather precarious as a seat, however. The mud table swayed dizzily on its one central leg. Whatever the contractors lacked in equipment, they had made up for in charm of location. For their dwellings hung precariously to the side of the cliff overlooking the blue, blue waters Of the Gulf. The architects, two tiny young ladies, hurriedly waved good-bye to us, perhaps, in fear lest we should be tempted to disturb their parlours.