But he also found in the same neighborhood a long cypress-haired moss that seemed to him very promising.

He made several trips, and raised quite a stack of fern-leaves.

By this time the sun had operated on his thinner pottery; so he laid down six of his large thick tiles, and lighted a fire on them with dry banana-leaves, and cocoanut, etc., and such light combustibles, until he had heated and hardened the clay; then he put the ashes on one side, and swept the clay clean; then he put the fire on again, and made it hotter and hotter, till the clay began to redden.
While he was thus occupied, Miss Rolleston came from the jungle radiant, carrying vegetable treasures in her apron.

First she produced some golden apples with reddish leaves.
"There," said she; "and they smell delicious." Hazel eyed them keenly.
"You have not eaten any of them ?" "What! by myself ?" said Helen.
"Thank Heaven!" said Hazel, turning pale.

"These are the manchanilla, the poison apple of the Pacific." "Poison!" said Helen, alarmed in her turn.
"Well, I don't _know_ that they are poison; but travelers give them a very bad name.