OUR ISLANDS 161 



through the chimney, which was a scramble and a 

 tight squeeze before we emerged on a rock plat- 

 form halfway up a cliff and blinked in the blaze of 

 sun. Feeling the combined sensations of Ali Baba, 

 Tom Sawyer and the first explorer of cave-dwell- 

 ings, the thought that made our enjoyment the 

 more keen was that in all probability our feet were 

 the first human ones to explore this island. There 

 have been plenty of visitors to Hood, and scien- 

 tists have collected from Gardner as well, but so 

 far as we know, no one ever troubled to investigate 

 these smaller islands of lava. Pirates and whalers, 

 of pre-scientific days, might have landed on them, 

 had they wished, but those strictly utilitarian gen- 

 tlemen would have had no reason for doing so, 

 though the sea-lion cave would have been an ideal 

 hiding-place for treasure. 



Continuing the circuit, we paused in some tide- 

 pools, where we earnestly attempted to capture the 

 wariest small fish I ever saw. A blue-footed booby 

 watched us superciliously from an over-hanging 

 ledge, with an air of I-could-an-if-I-would. Pres- 

 ently our fruitless efforts were interrupted by 

 shouts, and the Director rushed to join us, all agog 

 with the tale of a marvellous cave that he had dis- 

 covered. We gave an imitation of the booby's ex- 

 pression, and explained carefully to him just what 

 he had missed by not being with us when the cave 

 was really discovered, instead of merely following 

 in the footsteps of the pioneers, and finding that 

 civilization had driven out the aborigines. 



From a jutting headland we looked down to the 



