Leslie now set to work with earnestness and enthusiasm upon his great task of putting together the cutter, the component parts of which had so fortunately happened to form a part of the Mermaid's cargo. And the first thing he did was to name the prospective craft the Flora, as a compliment to his companion.

Now, the Flora, when completed, would be a craft of very respectable dimensions; far too bulky, indeed, to be launched by the simple process of pushing her off the beach into the water, as one would launch a small boat. The method of launching, therefore, was a matter requiring consideration, and would have to be arranged for before a stroke of work was done upon the boat herself. Leslie thought the matter over carefully, and at length arrived at the conclusion that there was nothing for it but to build the boat upon properly constructed launching ways. And for these he would require a considerable quantity of good stout timber properly squared; the provision of which involved a task of very considerable labour and difficulty. Trees there were in plenty on the island, of ample dimensions for his purpose; but how was he, single-handed, to get them down upon the beach, even after they had been trimmed and squared? And how was he to square them without a sawpit. The pit-saw itself he had, having found several among the other tools that formed part of the brig's cargo; but to work such a tool single-handed was an impossibility. Weighing all these difficulties in his mind, Dick at length came to the conclusion that there was no alternative but to draw upon the brig for the necessary material; and he accordingly went, rather reluctantly, to work upon the task of breaking up the poor old Mermaid. He decided that the deck-beams of the brig would be the most suitable for his purpose; and to obtain these it was necessary to break up the deck—a long and arduous job, only to be accomplished with hard labour and the assistance of an elaborate system of tackles.

It was while he was thus employed that the first break occurred in the fine weather that had prevailed ever since their arrival at the island. It began with the gradual dying away of the trade wind, followed by a heavy banking-up of dark thundery-looking clouds along the western horizon. With the cessation of the wind the temperature rose to such a pitch that work became an impossibility, and Dick was at length reluctantly compelled to knock-off and return to the shore, much to Flora's satisfaction—for she was continually in dread lest the untiring and feverish energy with which he laboured should result in his suffering a serious breakdown.

As it was too hot even to walk about, the pair were perforce compelled to remain inactive all the afternoon; and Flora inwardly decided that this would be a good opportunity for Dick to relate to her his promised story. It needed a very considerable amount of persuasion and coaxing to induce him to do so; but eventually he yielded and told her the whole miserable history from beginning to end, winding up with the words—

"And thus you find me here to-day, a disgraced and ruined man, under an assumed name, without prospects or hope of any description, with only a hundred pounds wherewith to begin a new career in an alien land, and no possibility whatever, so far as I can see, of ever being able to establish my innocence and so win reconciliation with my poor, proud, heart-broken father. Were it not for the fact that you are here, and must be restored to your friends with as little delay as may be, I could be well content to end my days here on this unknown island, alone and forgotten by all. Indeed, I think it more than likely that as soon as I have discharged my duty to you I shall return here."

"My poor Dick," exclaimed Flora, in tones of profound sympathy; "how you must have suffered! I am no longer surprised at your frequent fits of depression and melancholy; the wonder to me is that you did not go mad, or die of shame, in that horrible prison. But now that you have told me all you must put everything that is past behind you, and try to forget it; I believe your story implicitly; you could not be the man you have proved yourself to be to me, and be guilty of so mean an act as theft; oh no, nothing save your own admission could ever make me believe that of you. And you have all the sympathy of my heart, Dick; all my sympathy; all my esteem; all—oh, the thought of what you have been compelled to endure is terrible—terrible!"

And, to Leslie's unspeakable consternation, the girl suddenly buried her face in her hands and sobbed as though her heart would break. The expression of her whole-hearted sympathy and perfect faith in him touched him profoundly.

"Don't cry, darling, please don't; I cannot bear it—and I am not worth it," he protested. "I ought never to have told you. I was a selfish brute to extort your sympathy by the miserable recital of my own misfortunes; I have basely worked upon your feelings."

"You shall not say it," she answered, laying her hand upon his mouth; "I will not have you abuse yourself, you who have already suffered such unspeakable cruelty at the hands of others. You are not selfish; you are not base; you are nothing that is bad and everything that is good; you are a very king among men! Oh, Dick," she continued, taking his hand in hers, "do not think me forward or unmaidenly in speaking thus to you, dear; I am not. But do you think I do not know what your feeling is toward me; do you think I do not know that you love me? You poor, simple-hearted fellow, you are far too honest and straightforward ever to be able to deceive a woman, especially in such a matter as that; you may have thought that you were very successfully concealing your feelings from me, but I have known the truth—oh, ever since we have been on this island."

"It is true; God help me, it is true!" exclaimed Dick, smiting his forehead. "But it is also true that I never intended you to know. For what right have I, a disgraced and ruined man, to seek the love of any woman? And if I may not seek her love in return, why should I tell her that I love her?"

"You are looking at the matter with jaundiced eyes, Dick," answered Flora, still retaining his hand in hers. "I cannot wonder that you feel your humiliation cruelly; but the humiliation is really not yours; it is that of those who so shamefully plotted to ruin you. You are guiltless of this horrible charge—I am as sure of that as I am that I am a living woman. Besides, who is to know that Richard Leslie is one and the same man with him who stood in the dock charged with that shameful crime, and was pronounced guilty upon the strength of cunningly devised and manufactured evidence? No one, of course, except my father; he must know; because, Dick dear, it is my fixed determination that he shall help you in this matter; you will accompany me to Bombay, and personally deliver me over into my father's care. Then I shall tell him all that you have done for me, and been to me; and you will tell him your whole story, just as you have told it to me. And I am sure that, if only for the sake of his daughter, he will take up the matter and bring the truth to light. And, Dick, I am not going to allow your morbid feelings, or even maidenly reserve, to stand in the way of my happiness; you have confessed that you love me, and I know it to be true, for your eyes and your actions have told me so daily, for months past. It cannot be unmaidenly, therefore, in me to confess that I return your love with all my heart and soul."

"Oh, Flora, my love, my heart's darling, are you sure of this?" demanded Dick, laying his hands upon her shoulders and gazing into her eyes as though he would read her very soul. "Are you sure that you are not mistaking mere gratitude for a warmer feeling?"

"Yes, Dick," she answered, "I am quite, quite sure. My gratitude you won long ago; it was yours when we first stood on the deck of the Mermaid together, dripping from our long night's immersion in the sea—for had you not, even then, saved my life? And it grew even deeper as I noted day by day your thoughtful care and anxiety for my welfare. But gratitude and love are two very different feelings; and while I should of course have always been profoundly grateful to you for your unceasing care, I am sure that I should never have learned to love you had I not first seen that you loved me."

"Then God be praised for His unspeakable mercy in bestowing upon me this pricelessly precious gift of your dear love!" exclaimed Dick, fervently. "I will accept it, ay and I will moreover prove myself worthy of it. This blessed day marks a turning-point in my life; from this moment I leave my wretched past behind me; there shall be no more useless fretting and grieving for me. My work, now, is first to restore you to your father; next to free myself—by his help, if he will give it me, but anyway, to free myself—from the undeserved stigma that attaches to my true name; and, finally, to win for you such a home and position as you deserve. And, God helping me, I will do it!"

This was the second time within a few minutes that Dick Leslie had spoken the name of the Deity, and nothing could more clearly have indicated the change wrought in him by the knowledge of Flora's love. Hitherto he had felt himself to be an outcast, cruelly and unjustly deserted by his Creator; despised and condemned by his fellow-men; but now everything was different; he firmly believed that God had at last relented and had given him this girl's love to comfort and encourage him in his great trouble and humiliation; and he once more took hope into his heart. If God had relented, everything, he felt convinced, would yet be well with him.

And what is to be said of Flora; is any excuse needed for the extreme step that she took in forcing a confession of love from Leslie? Well, possibly there is; it may be that there are people who would assert that, despite her disclaimer, she was unmaidenly. If such there be, and if excuse for her be needed, then let it be found for her in the following facts. In the first place Leslie, despite his utmost caution, had betrayed his intense love for her in a thousand different ways, until the fact had become clear, unmistakable, and indisputable; a thing not to be doubted or gainsaid. And, in the next place, she saw that, for some unknown reason, he never intended to declare his love if he could possibly help it. A dozen times the declaration had trembled on his lips, yet he had resolutely withheld it. Why? Clearly for some reason that he deemed all-sufficient, and which, she fancied, must be intimately associated with those oft-recurring fits of gloom and depression from which she could not help seeing that he suffered. Finally, she loved him, and believed that—he also loving her—the knowledge of this fact might go far toward restoring his lost happiness. And when she had heard his story—told with all the bitterness and grief and indignation that had been eating into his soul and destroying his faith in God and man for over seven interminable years of suffering—she knew that she was right; that there was but one remedy for his misery; and, conscious of the nobility of her own motives, she fearlessly administered it. Who can or will blame her?

Meanwhile the brooding storm was slowly gathering its forces together for an outburst; the bank of cloud had piled itself so high above the western horizon that it had long ago obscured the sun; a weird twilight had fallen upon the scene; the stagnant air had grown even more oppressively hot than at first; not a bird uttered a single note; not an insect raised a chirp; not a leaf stirred; and in the profound silence the roar of the surf on the reef became thunderous in its resonance. They dined somewhat earlier than usual that night, and while they sat over their meal the darkness fell and they lighted the lamps. Then Leslie went out to see to the security of the catamaran, making her fast to the shore with additional moorings; and upon his return Flora insisted that he should lie down on the sofa while she sang and played to him. Then Leslie, in his turn, his heart lightened with returning hope and happiness, lifted up his voice, and for the first time since that terrible and memorable day, nearly eight years ago, broke into song. And finally they began to sing duets together, his clear, rich, mellow tenor blending well with Flora's sweet, sympathetic soprano.

The concert was interrupted by the distant muttering of thunder and the fitful flickering of lightning; and they went out together down to the shore to watch the gathering storm. It was a long time in coming, but by-and-by, as they stood together close to the water's edge, a sudden swishing sound, like that of wind stirring leaves, became audible, and in another moment the blast was upon them and tearing across the glassy surface of the lagoon, darkening its surface and lashing it into foam. Then, a minute or two later, down came the rain in sheets, and they had to beat a precipitate retreat to the tent, getting a thorough drenching on the journey, though it occupied them but a minute. The gale raged all through the night and up to nearly noon on the following day, when it broke, the sky cleared, and the wind gradually dropped to a moderate breeze, veering all the time round by north to east until the south-east trade wind was once more blowing, but very much more gently than usual. Upon going out, the next day, Leslie was delighted to find that the gale had done no damage whatever anywhere, all stores and materials having been effectually protected from the rain, while the direction of the gale had been such that it could not possibly harm the brig.

Although the gale actually broke—as has been said—shortly before noon, it moderated so gradually throughout the afternoon that it was not until the next day that the sea had gone down sufficiently to permit of the catamaran being taken alongside the brig without danger. As soon, however, as this was the case, Leslie went off again, accompanied by Flora, and resumed his task of breaking up the brig's deck. It was about the middle of the afternoon when Flora, who had been allowing her gaze to wander out over the sea to the southward and westward, called her companion's attention to a small object floating at a distance of about a mile in the offing. Leslie, ever on the alert, at once brought the telescope to bear upon the object, which appeared to be drifting helplessly before wind and sea toward the surf beating on the weather side of the reef, and immediately pronounced it to be a small canoe, apparently empty.

"We must have that craft; she will be very useful to us," he exclaimed, dropping the telescope and preparing to cast off the catamaran. "Will you come with me, sweetheart? You can be useful to me by taking the tiller, when we come alongside her, while I jump aboard and make fast a rope. But we must be smart or she will be among the breakers before we can reach her."

A minute later they were under way and slipping along toward the entrance channel, upon clearing which Leslie at once hauled his wind, standing to the eastward for about a mile, which took him far enough to windward to enable him to fetch the canoe on the next tack. He then hove about without a moment's delay, for the little craft was by this time perilously close to the surf, and it was questionable whether they would reach her in time to save her from being caught and dashed to pieces in it. So close, indeed, was she that Leslie began to seriously ask himself whether he was justified in taking the catamaran into a situation of such danger for the mere sake of an insignificant canoe; but reflecting that she was evidently light enough to enable Flora to paddle about in her without much exertion, and that it would afford the girl pleasure to do so; also that the little craft would be very useful for fishing and other purposes, he decided to risk it; and accordingly steered to shave just past her to windward. Then, when they were drawing close up to her, he handed over the tiller to Flora—who was by this time quite an expert helmswoman—instructing her to tack to the eastward the moment that he sprang into the canoe. Then, taking the end of a rope in his hand, he stood by to jump into the canoe as the catamaran shaved past her. Another moment and they were alongside the little craft, into which Dick nimbly leaped, with the rope's-end in his hand, crying, as he did so—

"Down helm, dear, and put her round!" A moment later he added, under his breath, "Hillo! here is a complication; a couple of naked savages in her! I wonder whether the beggars are dead!"

That, however, was not the moment in which to enter upon an investigation of the matter, for the two craft were on the very edge of the surf, and if by any chance the catamaran should miss stays nothing could save them. So Dick, with lightning-like rapidity, took a turn with his rope and made it fast to a sort of broad thwart in the centre of the canoe, and then, hauling quickly up alongside again, he regained the deck of the catamaran just as she was paying-off on the right tack.

As Leslie took the helm from her, Flora exclaimed—

"Oh, Dick, what does it mean? How came those two men—I suppose they are men?—in the canoe; and where have they come from?"

"From one of those islands, away out there to the westward, that we saw from the summit, without a doubt," answered Dick. "I suspect that they were caught unawares and blown out to sea by that gale of the day before yesterday. Once blown fairly away out of the lee of their own island they would have no choice but to keep their cockle-shell of a canoe dead before the sea, and to paddle for all they were worth, to avoid being swamped. I take it that they paddled until they were absolutely exhausted and could do no more, and then flung themselves down in the bottom of the canoe and dropped into a kind of lethargy."

"You think that they are still alive, then?" asked Flora.

"I have very little doubt of it," answered Dick. "These South Sea savages are pretty tough, I believe; and even were they not, it would take something more than, say, forty hours' exposure, in this climate, to kill them. Oh yes; they are alive, all right."

"And how will their presence on our island affect us, Dick?" asked the girl.

That was precisely the question that was worrying Leslie at that moment. He had no personal knowledge of the native inhabitants of the islands of the Southern Pacific, but had a vague recollection of having either heard or read that, while some of them were very gentle and inoffensive, others were extremely treacherous and ferocious; some of them even being addicted to cannibalism. He was not, however, going to alarm his companion unnecessarily, or say anything needlessly to raise her apprehensions; so he answered, with a great show of cheerfulness—

"Why, I hope it will very materially shorten the period of our sojourn here, sweetheart. They have the appearance of being good sturdy fellows; and I shall set them on to help me with my heavy work. It has gone to my heart to be compelled to ask you to do even the light work that you have hitherto done for me; although I could not have got on at all without your assistance. Now, however, with their help I shall be able to get on swimmingly, while you can amuse yourself in any way that you please. Now I am going to tack; look out for your head, dear; I cannot afford to have you knocked overboard by the main-boom. Helm's a-lee!"

Instead of returning to the brig, Leslie proceeded direct to the island where, having landed Flora, he proceeded, with some difficulty, to rouse the savages, and supply them with food and drink. They proved to be, as Leslie had said, a pair of fine, well-made men, naked, save for a kind of breech-clout round their loins, of sturdy physique, and apparently but little the worse for their adventure. Nor were they especially unprepossessing in appearance, although there was a certain character of ruthlessness in the expression of their eyes and about their mouths and chins that caused Leslie to determine that he would keep a very wary eye upon them, at all events until he had learned a little more about their character and disposition.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

FLORA'S ADVENTURE.

Leslie's two dark-skinned guests—for they were nearly black in colour— ate heartily of the food that was given them, their eyes wide-open with wonder, meanwhile, at the many strange objects—especially the tent and the catamaran—that they beheld around them; and the ex-lieutenant especially noted, with fast-growing distrust, the glances of hungry admiration that they bestowed on Flora when at length she emerged from the tent and approached the canoe to note their progress toward recovery. Leslie had already tested their knowledge of English, French, and German without success, from which he deduced the conclusion that they had not been brought into very intimate contact with the crews of vessels speaking any of those languages. Their own language, on the other hand was, as of course might be expected, merely unintelligible gibberish to him. This was unfortunate, since it would make intelligent communication between him and them difficult, at all events for a time; sailors, however, have a way peculiar to themselves of making their requirements understood by foreigners, and he had little doubt of his ability to overcome that difficulty ere long. Indeed, on that same day, after the men had eaten and drank to their hearts' content, Leslie contrived to convey to their understanding the fact that he expected them to build a hut for themselves; and he indicated the precise spot, at a considerable distance from the camp, where he wished it to be. As soon as they clearly understood what his desires were, they went off into the bush and, armed with a small tomahawk lent them by Leslie, proceeded to cut down some forty or fifty young and pliant saplings, the butt-ends of which they sharpened to a point, and then thrust vertically, into the ground in a circle some twelve feet in diameter. They then brought the tops of the saplings all together and bound them; thus producing a skeleton structure exactly shaped like a bee-hive. This skeleton they then strengthened by interweaving it with stout lianas—or "monkey-rope," as the sailors call the long, tough stems of the creepers that interlace themselves about the trees in tropical countries. This done, they again vanished into the bush; quickly returning with two generous loads of the leaves of a species of palm, wherewith they quickly and deftly thatched the entire hut, and thus completed it. The entire structure occupied but a couple of hours in the making; yet it had all the appearance of being a thoroughly comfortable and weather-proof dwelling. As soon as the hut was finished Leslie demanded back the tomahawk; but although he shrewdly suspected that they understood well enough what he wanted, they affected not to do so, keeping a tight hold upon the implement all through the discussion, until Dick simplified matters by seizing the holder by the arm and gently but firmly forcing it from his grasp. He then handed them a generous supply of fish, as an evening ration, and motioned them to withdraw to their hut, which they did, not over willingly, as Leslie thought. That same night he went to work and manufactured a canvas belt for Flora, to hold a brace of revolvers and a cartridge pouch; and the next morning early he took a small piece of board, some nine inches square, painted it to represent a target, and nailed it to a tree. Then, girding the fully equipped belt round Flora's waist, he led her to the target, having first initiated her into the mystery of loading and discharging a revolver, and said to her—

"As soon as you see that we have boarded the brig this morning, I want you to come up here and practise firing at that target until you have become a good shot. Begin your shooting at about this distance," marking off a distance of about five yards. "Standing as close to the target as this, you can scarcely fail to hit it. And when you are able to hit it three times in succession, I want you to retire one pace to the rear—so," suiting the action to the word, "and start shooting again until you have succeeded in hitting the target three consecutive times from the new position. Then retire another pace, and proceed as before, until you are able to hit the target time after time without missing, at this distance," indicating a peg driven into the ground at a distance of about fifty yards from the target. "When you can shoot straight at that range I think you will have attained a degree of proficiency sufficient for my purpose."

"Very well, Dick; I will do as you wish, of course," she answered; "and I think I shall not be long in attaining proficiency, for I believe I have a very 'straight' eye. Indeed, I gained several first prizes in archery competitions at home. But I wish, dear, you would tell me why you have suddenly taken this idea into your head. Has it anything to do with the arrival of the savages on the island?"

"Of course it has," answered Leslie, cheerily, thinking it best to be frank with his sweetheart—so far as it was possible for him to be so without alarming her. "You see, little woman, the matter stands thus. We know absolutely nothing about these fellows, whether their characters are bad or good; whether they are treacherously disposed, or otherwise. And while I have little doubt that in a fair-and-square, open, stand-up fight I should be able to give a reasonably good account of them, it will not be amiss for us to be on our guard against treachery. And there is no better way of dealing with savages than to inspire them with a good wholesome dread of one's powers and prowess. I propose, therefore, that, as soon as you have attained the necessary skill with your revolver, we shall indulge in a little pistol practice together, allowing them to look on. If they once get the fact thoroughly impressed upon them that we can both pot them, if necessary, at fifty yards, it will go a long way toward simplifying matters, by convincing them of the futility of attempting any tricks. But you must not let this very elementary precaution alarm you, sweetheart. As likely as not they will prove to be perfectly docile."

"I am sure I fervently hope and pray so," answered the girl. "But in any case," she continued spiritedly, "I shall not be frightened, because I shall always have you to take care of me."

Nevertheless, as soon as Leslie, taking the natives with him, had arrived on board the brig, she sedulously devoted herself to her shooting lesson, infusing into it that whole-hearted seriousness that women are wont to bring to any task set them; with the result that when Dick returned that evening she was able to report that she had attained to the desired degree of proficiency.

Meanwhile, Leslie found little difficulty in inducing the two blacks to accompany him aboard the catamaran and out to the brig. And when he reached the latter he had not much more difficulty in making them understand what he wanted them to do—this, by the way, consisting chiefly in heaving away upon the winch. He was careful to keep a watchful eye upon them all day, and especially when they first boarded the brig; being desirous to gather, if he could, some idea, from their looks and actions, whether they had ever seen a ship before. But although, as the catamaran drew up alongside the stranded vessel, he noticed that they regarded her with a considerable degree of curiosity and interest, these were hardly sufficiently marked to lead him to the conclusion that they had never seen such a craft before. This, however, was a comparatively unimportant matter. What concerned him most intimately was the fact that, after their night's rest, they seemed to exhibit a good deal more docility and intelligence than they had displayed on the night before. They worked well and—apparently—quite willingly, but did not appear to possess a very great amount of stamina, as they manifested every indication of being pretty completely exhausted before the day's work was over.

The next three days passed without the occurrence of anything worthy of record, save that Flora, acting upon Dick's advice, continued her pistol practice, with the view of further perfecting herself at the target, and acquiring even still greater dexterity. On the fourth day, however, feeling that she was tolerably proficient, and perhaps wearying somewhat of the monotony of perpetual shooting at a target, as soon as Leslie and the natives—one of whom now readily answered to the name of Cuffy, while the other did not disdain to be styled Sambo—had gone off to the brig, she resolved to treat herself to the luxury of a long ramble, with only Sailor for company. Accordingly, packing a small basket with a sufficient luncheon for herself and the dog, she set off.

She had not the least fear; for although they had taken many rambles together, neither she nor Leslie had ever seen the slightest trace of the existence of either animals or reptiles of any kind upon the island, and Dick had quite made up his mind not only that there were none, but that it was logically and physically impossible for any to get there. Besides, the natives were with Dick, and she had Sailor to take care of her; there was, therefore, nothing to be afraid of.

Now although, as has been said, Leslie and Flora had frequently indulged in rambles together, none of them had been very lengthy, or had carried them far afield, with the exception of the one that they had taken to the summit; and Flora's fancy now yearned to explore "fresh fields and pastures new;" a tantalising memory of a certain grove of especially noble and beautiful flower-bearing trees situate on the north-eastern slope of the peak dwelt persistently with her, she had conjured up a fancy picture of this particular spot that made it appear to her imagination a scene of enchanting and fairy-like beauty, and she longed to satisfy herself as to how closely her imagination approximated to the reality. Moreover, the walk promised to be an agreeably easy one, the slopes of the ground appeared to be gentle, and the face of the country finely broken; she therefore determined to wend her way in this direction.

Sauntering quietly along, she soon left the open savannah behind her, and plunged into the bush, heading generally in a northerly direction, but accommodating her route to the inequalities of the ground and the varying density of the undergrowth; naturally selecting a path that afforded her the easiest passage through the bush. In this manner, after a very pleasant and enjoyable walk for about an hour, she arrived at the crest of the eastern spur of the mountain, and, descending a gentle declivity, soon found herself in a region as romantically beautiful as even her vivid fancy had painted. Ravine succeeded ravine, each with its own tiny streamlet meandering through it, and each more picturesque and enchanting than the last, until at length, emerging from this broken ground, she reached a stretch of park-like country with practically no undergrowth, the greensward being studded with magnificent umbrageous trees, some of which were a mass of lovely blossom of the most exquisite tints, while others were lavishly draped with orchids of every conceivable shape and hue. She was by this time feeling somewhat fatigued and very hungry; she therefore selected the mossy roots of an enormous tree as a resting-place, and, seating herself, leisurely proceeded to eat her luncheon and to give Sailor his. The air of the place was exquisitely soft and balmy, the wide-spreading foliage shielded her from the too-ardent rays of the sun, and bathed the whole scene in a delicious golden green twilight; a profound silence reigned around, broken only by the soothing murmur of the wind through the topmost branches and the equally soothing rustle of the leaves—and it is not to be wondered at that the girl sank into a pleasant reverie that gradually merged into profound sleep.

When at length she awoke, the changed character of the light, and the deepened sombreness of the shadows, warned her that the sun was already low, and that she must hasten homeward if she would reach the camp ere nightfall; she therefore seized her empty basket, and set out upon her return journey, following her outward route as nearly as she could hit it off. But she had slept much longer than she suspected, and when at length she again reached the broken and romantic ground that she had traversed with such delight and enjoyment in the morning, the shadows had fallen so deeply that it was with the utmost difficulty only that she could discern her way, and she found herself obliged to proceed with the greatest circumspection. And now it was that, for the first time, she fully appreciated the advantage of having Sailor as a companion, for the dog appeared to remember the way by which they had come much better than she did, running on before her for a few yards, then pausing for her to come up to him, and again running forward. Several times he had persisted in adopting a certain route in preference to the one that she seemed disposed to pursue, and in each case had proved himself to be right; she therefore at length resigned herself blindly to his guidance, following him wherever he chose to lead.

In this fashion the pair hastened forward as rapidly as the rough and broken character of the ground would permit, Flora by this time being in a tumult of distress at the knowledge that Dick would already have returned from the wreck and be wild with anxiety at her unaccountable absence—for she had said nothing to him about her intentions when he left her that morning, the expedition being the result of an impulse that had come to her after his departure. The sun had by this time set, and even in the open the brief twilight was rapidly deepening into night, while where Flora now was, plunged in the heart of a wild ravine, thickly overgrown with trees and bush, it was so dark that she could with difficulty distinguish the form of the dog, even when he was close to her. But she had the comfort of knowing that Sailor was guiding her aright, for she presently, found herself making her way over a particularly difficult bit of ground that she had a vivid remembrance of having passed during the morning; find the difficulties that she had then experienced made her more than usually careful now, as she was fully aware that a false step would probably result in an ugly fall.

Yet, despite all her care, she took that false step, and instantly found herself plunging headlong over a low cliff into a dense tangle of undergrowth. She was not hurt in the least, but to her chagrin she found herself so completely involved in the tangle that, struggle as she would, it seemed impossible for her to extricate herself. Every movement of her body served but to involve her more completely, and to sink her more effectually into the heart of her leafy prison. Fortunate indeed was it for her that there happened to be no thorns on the bushes into which she had fallen, otherwise she must have sustained very serious injuries in her frantic efforts to free herself from the tough, cordlike lianas that entwined her body and limbs so completely that at length she found it practically impossible to further move hand or foot. As for Sailor, he seemed quite incapable of doing anything more useful than run to and fro along the narrow ledge from which his mistress had fallen, barking distractedly, and utterly disregarding Flora's imperative injunctions to go home. For she soon realised the exceedingly disconcerting fact that she was a helpless prisoner, as utterly unable to effect her escape, unaided, as though she were immured within the walls of a Russian fortress; and she further realised that unless the dog could be induced to return to camp and guide Dick to her rescue, she might actually remain where she was and starve ere her lover succeeded in discovering her.

Meanwhile Dick, too, had had an unfortunate day. For late in the afternoon, while breaking up the deck of the brig, the catamaran had in some inexplicable manner gone adrift, and, driving athwart the stern of the brig, snapped her mast short off at the deck, completely disabling her, of course. In consequence of this accident, Dick had at once knocked off work, and taken the craft across the lagoon to the camp, intending to procure a new spar from the woods forthwith, and immediately proceed with the repair of the damage. But the catamaran under sail was one thing, the same craft with her wings clipped was quite another thing; and in her disabled condition she proved so unexpectedly unhandy that the sun had set and darkness was already closing down when at length he got her to her usual berth.

It was Flora's invariable custom to stroll down to the beach to meet her sweetheart as soon as she saw the catamaran coming in from the wreck; and Leslie was greatly surprised that on this night of all others—when the unusual lateness of his arrival and the dismantled condition of the catamaran might have been expected to excite her curiosity—she should fail to appear. Yet her absence aroused no shadow of anxiety within him; for what could possibly happen to her, alone there on the island, with the dog to protect her? Nor did the non-appearance of Sailor awaken any suspicion within him, for he knew that the dog and the girl were inseparable companions, and that wherever Flora might be, there would Sailor also be found. He concluded that Flora was somehow detained for the moment, and that she and Sailor would presently present themselves as usual. Meanwhile, he secured the catamaran, served out their supper rations to Cuffy and Sambo, and attended to one or two other matters.

But when, having attended to these matters, he at length made his way to the camp, and not only found the tent in darkness, but the cooking-stove in its rear unlighted, he began for the first time to feel uneasy. He whistled and called for the dog, knowing that if the animal were within hearing he would at once bark in response, even if he did not come bounding joyously to him, as was generally the case—for Sailor was almost as devotedly attached to Dick as he was to Flora. But on this occasion no Sailor appeared, nor did he afford any other manifestation of his near presence. Then Dick began to shout loudly for Flora, hoping to hear her sweet voice raised in reply.

He now began to feel seriously alarmed, knowing that she must have wandered away into the bush, and perhaps have lost herself in the darkness. Yet against this theory was to be set his knowledge of the sagacity of Sailor, who, he believed, was quite intelligent enough to find his way back to the camp from the uttermost extremity of the island in the darkest night. He entered the tent and, lighting the lamps, looked round the living-room compartment, thinking it possible that Flora might have left a note explaining her absence, or saying where she was going. But he knew that, had she written such a note, she would have left it in some conspicuous situation—as on the table—where it would at once be found. There was no letter, either on the table or elsewhere, so far as he could see. Then he instituted a thoroughly systematic search of the tent in quest of some sign or indication that might furnish him with a clue as to what had happened to her, or what had induced her to go off in this mysterious fashion, but without success. He even ventured to peep into her sleeping apartment, wondering whether perchance she had felt unwell and become unconscious. But a single glance sufficed to show him that nothing of that kind had happened. Finally, he hunted up a lantern, trimmed and lighted it, provided himself with a small flask of brandy, to meet a possible emergency, armed himself with a brace of revolvers and a small, keen tomahawk, and without remembering or being conscious of the fact that he was by this time fairly hungry—conscious of nothing, indeed, but an ever-growing feeling of keen anxiety and alarm—set out in search of the lost one.

The first question that now confronted him was, In which direction was he to search? There was no especially favourite spot, so far as he knew, to which she would be predisposed to wend her way; there were no roads or paths, or anything in the remotest degree approaching thereto, on the island: she would therefore be just as likely to head in one direction as another. The grass in the immediate neighbourhood of the tent was to some extent trodden down, it is true, by frequent traffic round it, and a path had gradually been worn into visibility between the tent and the cook-house; but beyond that everything was as fresh and trackless as upon the day of their landing. Then it occurred to Leslie to seek for traces of Flora's footprints in the grass, and he started to carefully quarter the ground beyond the worn area in the neighbourhood of the tent, carefully examining it with the aid of the lantern. And in this way he presently discovered one or two imprints of the heels of her boots, but it proved impossible to follow the track for more than half a dozen yards; moreover, upon a further search he found so many, leading in such a number of different directions, that he soon realised the impossibility of determining which of them he ought to follow. And all the time that he was thus engaged he never ceased to whistle and call Sailor, varying the proceedings occasionally by shouting the name of Flora, until he was so hoarse that he could scarcely articulate.

In this laborious and painfully unsatisfactory fashion he spent the entire night, carefully quartering the ground until he had covered the whole area between Mermaid Head on the one hand and Cape Flora on the other, and extending rearward toward the mountain to about a quarter of its height. The magnitude of such an enterprise as this, and its exhausting nature, can only be appreciated by those who have attempted a similar feat in a country overgrown with bush.

By the time that the sun had risen and Leslie was able to dispense with the aid of the lantern, he was so utterly weary that he could scarcely drag one leg after the other; his lips were so dry that he could no longer whistle, and his throat so sore that he could no longer shout, while he was sinking with exhaustion from hunger and thirst. Yet he pressed doggedly on, still prosecuting his search with grim determination and the same concentration as before until, close upon midday—when he was working over toward the eastern side of the island, he paused suddenly and listened as intently as though his life depended upon it. Yes; there it was again—the distant but faintly heard bark of a dog—he was sure of it! Gathering himself together, he once more strove to whistle, but failed; then he attempted to shout.

"Sailor! Sailor!! Sailor!!!"

He lifted up his voice in a steady crescendo until the last cry became a hoarse, cracked yell that was as unlike his own full, rich, mellow tone as any sound could well be. Yet the dog heard it, ay, and recognised it, for he immediately replied vigorously. Leslie continued to shout, dashing recklessly forward in the direction of the barking as he did so, and Sailor continued to reply; nay, more; now that he actually heard Leslie's voice calling him, he uttered a whining howl of excitement, hesitated for a few seconds, and finally bounded off to meet him in response to Flora's feebly uttered commands. Five minutes later he came dashing madly up to Leslie, looked up into his face, barked, wagged his tail energetically, and then dashed off back in the direction from which he had come, stopping at every few yards to assure himself that he was being followed. And in this way he led Dick forward, for about a quarter of an hour, over the rough, broken ground that Flora had traversed some twenty-four hours before, until the pair stood together on the spot from which the girl had fallen.

By this time Flora had become quite invisible from this spot; for she had continued her struggles at intervals all through the night until she had worked herself down into the very heart of the clump of scrub and creeper into which she had fallen, and which had now closed over her head. But there was a sort of indentation or sinkage in the surface of the scrub, presenting an appearance suggestive of some tolerably heavy body having fallen there, and at this indentation Sailor first steadfastly gazed, and then looked up into Leslie's face, barking continuously. And, peering intently down into this, Dick presently became aware of what appeared to be some tiny shreds of clothing clinging here and there to the bushes.

"Are you there, Flora?" he shouted.

There was no reply; for the moment that the sound of Dick's voice fell upon her ear, encouraging and talking to the dog, and she knew that rescue was at hand, the long-endured tension of her nerves relaxed, and she fainted. But Sailor's actions were not to be misunderstood; he continued to look alternately into Leslie's face and then down at the bushes, barking excitedly all the while and making as though he would leap down into the depression; so that even a very much less intelligent individual than Leslie could not have failed to understand that it was there that the missing girl would be found. He called once more, and, still failing to obtain an answer, wasted no further time in hesitation, but, seeing that the base of the declivity was the proper point to attack, scrambled down as best he could, closely followed by Sailor, and attempted to force a way into the heart of the bushes from that point. He soon found, however, that the tough tangle of creepers was not to be conquered by his unaided hands alone, and so set to work vigorously with his tomahawk, cutting away at the tangled and knotted mass, and dragging the severed ends apart and aside until after about ten minutes of arduous work he suddenly found himself at the mouth of what appeared to be a spacious cavern under the rock from which Flora had fallen; and there, prone upon the rocky floor, with her light clothing almost torn from her body by her long-continued efforts to free herself, he found his sweetheart lying insensible.

Kneeling upon the hard rocky floor, he raised the limp form in his arms and lost not a moment in applying his flask of brandy to her lips; and presently he had the satisfaction of feeling her stir in his arms.

"Ah, that is good! You are feeling better, darling, are you not?" he exclaimed encouragingly. "Tell me, sweetheart, are you very much hurt?"

"No, I think not," she answered, with a sigh of contentment as she realised that Dick was with her and that her troubles were now practically over. "I only feel very sore all over from my long struggle to free myself; and also rather cold. I have been here ever since sunset last night, Dick, fighting to escape from those dreadful entangling bushes; and I feel, oh, so utterly tired."

"My poor little girl," exclaimed Dick, tenderly, "you have had a very trying experience, and one that might have proved very serious, too, but for Sailor, here. Cold! of course you are. Here, let me wrap my jacket round you—so; that is better. Now, I am going to light a fire; the air of this place is chill as that of an ice-house. And while you are warming yourself and getting a little life into your body I will clear away the bush a trifle more, so that you can get out without difficulty."

There was plenty of wood to be had, suitable for building a fire, by simply cutting away the dry roots and tendrils of the bush in front of the cave; and in a few minutes Dick had a good fire blazing, by the light of which he saw that they were in the mouth of a cavern about eight feet high that seemed to reach back into the heart of the rock for a considerable distance. And some way back, lying just within the radius of the area that caught the illumination of the fire, he presently noticed something lying on the ground that bore an uncanny likeness to a human skeleton! He said nothing about it, however—having no wish that Flora's shaken nerves should be subjected to any further shock just then, especially as the imperfect view of the object that had been afforded him by the flickering light of the flames left him quite uncertain as to its identity—but at once went to work again with his tomahawk in a vigorous onslaught upon the bushes, managing, in another ten minutes or so, to make such a clearance of them as would enable his companion to pass out without difficulty.

By the time that he had accomplished this, Flora had so far recovered that she declared herself quite ready to essay the journey back to the camp; and they accordingly set out forthwith, Dick very carefully noting the surrounding landmarks, with the fixed determination to return at an early moment and thoroughly examine the interior of the cavern. As they went, Flora beguiled the way by relating to Dick, in full detail, all the particulars of her very unpleasant adventure; listening in return to Dick's account of his return to camp, his consternation at the discovery of her absence, and his long, arduous, and almost despairing search for her.

They reached camp about two o'clock in the afternoon; and after snatching a hasty meal made up of the first odds and ends that they could lay their hands upon, retired at once to their respective couches to get an hour or two of that rest of which they both stood in such urgent need.

It was within an hour of sunset when Dick awoke and turned out. His first care was to light up the cooking-stove and get some sort of a dinner under way; and, this done, he strolled over to the natives' hut to ascertain what these gentry were doing, as nothing was to be seen of them in the vicinity of the camp. They were not in the hut; and when he looked for their canoe he discovered that it had also disappeared. His first thought was that they might have gone off to the brig and attempted on their own account to continue the work of breaking up her decks; and he felt a trifle vexed at the idea, fearing that in their ignorance they might do a great deal more harm than good. But upon procuring his telescope and bringing it to bear upon the brig he soon satisfied himself that the canoe was not alongside her; nor, when he looked further, could he see anything of her anywhere along the inner edge of the reef, whither he thought they might have gone for the purpose of obtaining a few fish. It was then that, for the first time, the suspicion dawned upon him that they might have left the island altogether, with the intention of attempting to make their way back to their own people, and a further search at length convinced him of the accuracy of his surmise; for a second visit to the hut showed that not only were its usual occupants absent, but they had taken with them all their trivial belongings; while a further investigation led to the discovery that they had helped themselves to a few such trifles as a pair of tomahawks, a few yards of canvas, some light line, a small keg— presumably to hold a supply of water; a bag or two of assorted nails, a couple of fishing lines, and possibly a few other unimportant odds and ends. His first feeling at this discovery was one of vexation; for ignorant though these savages were, and difficult as he had found it to make them understand his wishes, they represented a certain amount of brute strength that he had already found most useful, and doubtless would have found even more useful later on, when he had succeeded in making them understand more clearly what he desired them to do. But a little further reflection enabled him to realise that in seizing the first favourable opportunity to get away from the island and attempt to return to their own kindred and people, they were only acting upon a perfectly natural and commendable impulse; they were, in fact, actuated by precisely the same feeling that had dominated himself ever since he had been on the island, and were doing precisely what he hoped eventually to do. And, having arrived at this conclusion, he dismissed the incident from his mind, and reverted to the same plan of life that had been his prior to the arrival of Cuffy and Sambo upon the scene.

The following day was devoted by Leslie to the task of procuring a suitable spar to serve as a new mast for the catamaran, and restoring that craft to her former serviceable condition. And it was while he was thus engaged that the thought first entered his mind that the accident by which the catamaran had become dismasted might possibly have been a blessing in disguise, since, but for that accident, the two savages might, by a not intricate process of reasoning, have arrived at the conclusion that such a craft would serve their purpose infinitely better than their own canoe, and forthwith appropriated her. That they did not do so was perhaps due to the fact that she was practically unmanageable except under sail, rather than to any innate sentiment of honesty on their part.

The catamaran having been once more rendered fit for service, Leslie decided to devote a few hours to the examination of "Flora's Cave," as he called it, while its situation and the landmarks in its vicinity were fresh in his memory; he accordingly set off immediately after breakfast on the following morning, telling Flora where he was going, but suggesting that she should remain in camp and take a thorough rest.

Going easily, he arrived at the cave in about an hour and a half after starting; and at once proceeded with his investigation. He had adopted the precaution to take a packet of candles along with him, and he commenced operations by lighting these, one after the other, and setting them up on the most convenient rock projections that offered. He thus succeeded in illuminating the entire interior of the cavern quite sufficiently for his purpose. Meanwhile, during the process of lighting up the cavern, he had already discovered that his first impression relative to the suspicious-looking object was well-grounded; it was indeed a skeleton; and his first act after completing his lighting arrangements was to subject this grisly object to a careful examination. He found it to be the skeleton of a man who must have stood about six feet high in his stockings, when alive. Attached here and there to the bones were fragments of clothing, while on the ground beside the ghastly framework were other fragments of fine linen, lace, gold-embroidered velvet, and silks, showing that the wearer must have been a man of some consequence. The waist was girded by a broad leather belt, so dry and rotten that it crumbled to powder in Leslie's fingers, and attached to this was a long, straight rapier with an elaborately ornamented hilt and sheath, all rotted and rust-eaten. To the same belt was also attached the sheath of what must have been a long and formidable dagger. And a couple of feet away from the head there lay a handsome steel casque very beautifully engraved and chased, but thickly coated with rust, like the rest of the steel accoutrements. A closer inspection of the skeleton disclosed the fact that the skull had been battered in, while a dagger that might have belonged to the empty sheath was found sticking up to its hilt in one of the ribs.

Turning from the skeleton, Leslie next proceeded to carefully examine a great pile of small cases, packages, and casks that had already come under his casual notice while engaged in lighting up the cave. He took these as they came most conveniently to his hand, the casks first claiming his attention. With the assistance of a small axe that he had taken the precaution to bring with him he soon forced off the head of one of these, revealing its contents. It consisted of a solid cake of some hard, black substance, moulded to the shape of the cask, that upon critical examination proved—as he had more than half expected—to be gunpowder, caked into a solid mass and completely spoiled by damp. Two similar casks were also found to contain powder in a like condition; and therefore, acting upon the justifiable assumption that the contents of all the casks was the same, he rolled the whole of them, sixteen in number, to the opposite side of the cave, out of the way, and turned his attention to a number of small black packages that, when he proceeded to handle them, proved to be unexpectedly heavy. His first thought was that they were pigs of lead, intended to be cast into bullets as occasion might require; but upon removing one of them to the open air, for greater convenience of examination, he discovered that the block— whatever it might be—was sewn up in what had once been hide, but was now a mere dry, stiff, rotten envelope that easily peeled off, revealing a dark-brownish and very heavy substance within. This substance he feverishly proceeded to scrape with the blade of his pocket-knife—for the presence of the hide envelope prepared him for an important discovery—and presently, the outer coat of dirt and discolouration being removed from that part of the surface upon which he was operating with his knife, there gleamed up at him the dull ruddy tint of virgin gold! It was as he had anticipated; the block upon which he was operating was one of the gold bricks that, sewn up in raw hide, were wont to be shipped home by the Spaniards of old from the mines of South America. He lifted the brick in his hands, and estimated it to weigh about forty pounds. The gold bricks were stacked together in tiers, twenty bricks long, four bricks wide, and four bricks high; there were therefore three hundred and twenty of them, and if his estimate of their weight happened to be correct, this little pile of precious metal must be worth—what? A short mental calculation—taking the gold to be worth three pounds fifteen shillings the ounce—furnished him with the answer; the handsome sum of close upon seven hundred thousand pounds sterling. Quite a respectable fortune!

But this was not all. There were other chests and cases still awaiting examination; and, fully convinced by now that he had accidentally stumbled upon one of those fabulously rich treasures that the Spanish galleons were reported to have conveyed from time to time from the shores of the new world to those of old Spain—how it had happened to find its way to this particular spot he did not trouble to puzzle out— Leslie went to work to break open and examine the remainder of the packages, heedless of the flight of time. Some of them he found to contain rich clothing, that fell to pieces as he attempted to lift the garments out of the receptacles that had held them in safe keeping for so long; others—two of the largest—were packed full of gold candlesticks, crosses, jewelled cups, and other vessels and articles of a character that seemed to point to their having been the spoils of some looted church—a circumstance that caused Leslie to suspect that his find represented the proceeds of some more than ordinarily successful oldtime piratical cruise. And finally the innermost chest of all, and consequently the last arrived at, disclosed to Dick's astounded gaze a collection of jewels, set and unset, that fairly made him reel with astonishment. There were great ropes of discoloured pearls, that would be priceless if they could by any means be restored to their pristine state of purity; diamond, ruby, emerald, and other necklaces, bracelets, rings, brooches, and other ornaments in more or less tarnished settings; heavy chains of solid gold; jewelled sword-hilts; and, last but not least, a great buckskin bag that was still in pliant and serviceable condition, containing a heterogeneous assortment of cut and uncut gems— principally diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and sapphires—every one of them apparently picked specimens, the whole constituting of itself a treasure of incalculable value.

As Dick, having pocketed a handful of these gems at random to show Flora, replaced the heavy bag in the chest and sank back on his haunches to rest himself while he mopped from his brow the perspiration of hard labour and excitement, the light that streamed in through the mouth of the cavern was momentarily obscured, and Sailor bounded in, barking joyously as he sprang at Dick and tried to lick his face. The dog was closely followed by Flora, who cried as she entered—

"Dick, Dick, where are you? Has anything—oh! there you are! Whatever has kept you so long, dear? Are you ill, or have you met with an accident? Oh! what is this horrible thing?" as she stumbled over the skeleton, which she had failed to notice, coming as she did straight from the brilliant outdoor light into the dimly illuminated interior of the cavern.

"That!" exclaimed Dick, lightly. "Oh, that is just a heap of bones that must have been left here by the original owners of this commodious abode." And with a sweep of his foot he unceremoniously transferred the poor remains to a dark corner of the cavern that he contrived to render still darker by dexterously extinguishing three or four of the candles in its immediate vicinity. "As to my being ill," he continued, "I am happy to assure you, my dear, that I never felt better in my life. And I have excellent reason for feeling well. Look at this!" And he pointed exultantly to the noble pile of treasure.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

ABDUCTION AND PURSUIT.

"Well, what is it, Dick? It looks like a number of very old boxes. Have you come upon a pirate's hoard?—as you ought to do, you know, in such a cunningly concealed cavern as this," exclaimed Flora, laughingly, as she peered inquisitively at the pile that even now she could only see very imperfectly.

"Ay," answered Dick. "You may laugh as much as you like, little girl, but that is precisely what I have done. Of course I am not prepared to assert positively that it is a 'pirate's hoard,' although it looks uncommonly like it, I must confess; but that it is treasure, and very valuable treasure, too, is indisputable. Do you see this pile of black bricks here? Well, those are gold bricks; and I estimate their value at something approaching three-quarters of a million sterling."

"Three-quarters of a million?" repeated Flora, incredulously. "Oh, Dick, you cannot mean it; you are surely joking!"

"I assure you, dear, I never spoke more seriously in my life; what I am telling you is fact—plain, simple, indisputable, delightful fact! And the gold is only part of the story."

He lifted the covers of the other cases and held a candle while she looked at their contents, uttering exclamations of delighted amazement as she gazed. Then he withdrew the buckskin bag from the jewel-chest, and placed it in her hands.

"Lift that," he said simply.

"Oh, dear, how heavy!" exclaimed the girl. "I should not like to be obliged to carry this very far. What does it contain?"

Dick plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out the handful of gems that he had abstracted from the bag.

"It is full of pretty little stones like these," he answered, displaying them to her astonished gaze. "Put your hand into the lucky-bag, dear, and see what you can find there."

She did so, and pulled out a similar handful to those which glittered in Dick's palm.

"Why, this is a perfect cave of Aladdin, Dick," she exclaimed, in delighted astonishment. "Where did it all come from, do you think?"

"It is impossible to say with certainty," answered Leslie; "but I have very little doubt that it was brought to this hiding-place from that old wreck that you discovered sunk in the lagoon. At all events it has lain here for many years—a hundred, at least, I should think; and its original owners have long been dead and gone, leaving no trace of their identity behind them. It is therefore now ours, sweetheart—our very own; so the fact of our being cast away upon this desert island has not been an unmitigated misfortune, after all, you see."

"No, indeed," agreed Flora, heartily. "There was a time when I certainly so regarded it; but I do so no longer, for it has given me you, and it has made you a rich man. Why, Dick, you must be a veritable millionaire!"

"Yes," agreed Dick; "there cannot be much doubt about that. At least, we are jointly worth quite a million, which practically means the same thing. And now, do you wish to adorn your pretty self with any of these gewgaws? Because, if so, you had better make your selection, and then we ought to be going, for I see that the sun is getting low."

"Yes, let us get away from here; it is a horrid place, notwithstanding the fact that it is a treasure-cave. And, as to wearing any of those things, I would very much rather not, Dick, please. They suggest to me all sorts of dreadful ideas—scenes of violence and bloodshed, the sacking and burning of towns, the murder of their inhabitants, and—oh no, I could not wear any of them, thank you."

"Very well," said Dick; "then I will just make everything safe here, and we will be off."

And, allowing Flora first to withdraw into the open air, he closed the chests again, extinguished the candles, and, rearranging the bushes in front of the cave so as effectually to conceal its entrance, left the spot.

For some time after this nothing of importance occurred to vary the monotony of existence on the island, Leslie devoting himself energetically to the important work of providing the material for and constructing the ways upon which he intended to build his cutter. This heavy task absorbed rather more than two months of his time; for it was laborious work, involving the handling of heavy masses of timber, which could only be done with the aid of tackles and other appliances, supplemented by the ingenuity of the highly trained sailor; moreover, Leslie was one of those individuals who believed in the wisdom of doing everything thoroughly well at first rather than incur the risk of being obliged to undo much of his work and do it all over again. But at length the ways were completed to his satisfaction; and, that done, the job of laying the keel and setting up the ready-made frames of the cutter in their correct respective positions and securing them there was comparatively simple and easy. This occupied exactly a month, at the end of which time the completed skeleton of the cutter stood revealed upon the stocks, to Dick's supreme gratification and Flora's wonder and admiration. And, indeed, Leslie had ample cause to be both satisfied and delighted; for this completed skeleton displayed the form of a remarkably handsome boat, possessed of exceptionally fine flowing lines, with a keen entrance and a perfectly clean delivery, yet with a splendidly powerful mid-section, and a depth of hull that promised great weatherliness with an ample sufficiency of freeboard. It was evident that her design had emanated from the drawing-board of a naval architect of quite unusual ability, for her shape seemed to promise the speed of the racer with the seaworthiness of the cruiser; indeed, as Dick was never tired of asserting, she could not have been more perfectly suitable for his purpose had she been specially designed for it. "Give me another hand to keep watch and watch with me, and I'll take her round the world!" he was wont to declare, when summing up the good points of the craft. It was at this stage of affairs, namely, when the skeleton framework of the cutter had been completely set up, and Leslie was preparing to commence the task of planking-up, that, upon emerging from the tent one morning after breakfast to wend his way down to the shipyard, he was amazed to see a cloud of smoke rising from the now partially dismembered hull of the brig, followed, even as he gazed incredulously, by an outburst of flame. Rushing back to the tent for the telescope, he brought the instrument to bear upon the craft, and then discovered that not only was she on fire, but also that there was a boat or canoe of some sort alongside her, and a moment later he saw a party of natives on board her!

He stamped his foot on the ground with anger and vexation. Natives again, and this time in the form of wanton marauders; for he had no doubt that they had been plundering the wreck, and, having secured all that they required or could carry away, had maliciously set fire to her. And who were they, and where had they come from? Were they Cuffy and Sambo, returned to the island with a party of friends for the purpose of securing possession of some intensely coveted object—as seemed more than probable—or were they strangers, who had come upon the island accidentally? This last was scarcely probable, for there had been no bad weather to blow them out to sea, and the nearest land was so far distant that, assuming them to have come from it, they would scarcely have adventured the passage across so wide a stretch of ocean on mere speculation. At all events, let them be whom they might, and no matter where they came from, they must be driven off; for the presence of a party of strange natives upon the island constituted an intolerable menace that must at once be put an end to.

These reflections flashed through Leslie's brain even as he lowered the telescope from his eye, and, calling to Flora, he pointed out to her the burning brig, saying—

"Look at that, sweetheart! The poor old Mermaid is on fire, and we are about to see the last of her. That, however, is not a matter of very great moment, for I believe I have got out of her practically everything that I need; the point that is of importance is that she has been set on fire, either wilfully or accidentally, by a party of natives, who are at this moment on board her. There are some ten or a dozen of them, so far as I can make out, and it seems pretty clear that they have come here on a looting expedition, organised, as likely as not, by those fellows Sambo and Cuffy, who seized the opportunity of my absence from the camp, in search of you, when you met with your accident at the treasure-cave, to return to their own island, taking along with them a few unconsidered trifles. Doubtless they have now been helping themselves again; and, although it is unlikely that they have taken anything of real value, I will not have them paying marauding visits to this island. They cannot again loot the brig, it is true, for they have set fire to her, and she must now burn until she burns herself out; but, unless I can very effectually convince them of the folly of such a proceeding, we shall next have a small army of savages descending upon the island itself, for the purpose of looting the camp, which will mean a big fight, involving heavy loss of life to them, and ending in my death and your captivity. Such a contingency as that will not bear thinking of; I am therefore about to go out to them and induce them, one way or another, to clear out. In plain language, I am going to drive them out to sea; and if harm comes to them, they will only have themselves to thank for it. They came here with a dishonest purpose, and they must take the consequences. You will, of course, remain here, with Sailor to take care of you. And do not be anxious if I do not return for a few hours; I intend to drive them so far to sea that they will find some difficulty in returning, especially as they must be fairly tired already with their long paddle to windward. And now good-bye, dear; I want to get afloat in time to prevent them from landing."

"Good-bye, Dick dear," answered Flora. "Be sure that you take the utmost care of yourself, and do not be away any longer than is absolutely necessary. I shall be anxious until you return."

"Ah, but that is just what you must not be," exclaimed Leslie, as he buckled on a belt containing two fully loaded revolvers, and began to stuff packets of ammunition into his pockets. Then, seizing a brace of Winchester repeating rifles from a rack in the corner of the tent, he started on a run for the beach, loading his rifle as he ran, for he saw that the blacks were in the act of leaving the brig.

Leaping aboard the catamaran, Dick cast off and made sail with all speed, for it looked as though the blacks meditated attempting a landing. As soon, however, as they saw the strange craft beating off to meet them, and making short tacks to keep between them and the beach, they whisked the canoe round and paddled desperately for the channel, with the catamaran in full chase.

The canoe—a big, wholesome-looking craft, propelled by ten paddles— reached the channel first, with a lead of about three-quarters of a mile, and at once, upon fairly reaching the open sea, headed away to the south-east, or dead to windward, her occupants having already apparently grasped the fact that the catamaran could only progress in the same direction by following a zigzag course. It was Leslie's intention to turn them, if possible, and drive them round the southern extremity of the reef, and so to leeward, reckoning upon the fact that they must already be considerably exhausted by their long paddle of something over one hundred miles to windward, and believing that if he could drive them far enough beyond the lee of the island to get them fairly into the full run of the sea and the full strength of the trade wind on that side, they would be in no mood or condition to paddle up to windward again; he therefore made a long board to the eastward on clearing the channel, hoping that on the next tack he would be able to near them sufficiently to execute the desired manoeuvre. But, to his disgust, upon getting into their wake, he found that he had gained upon them little or nothing, while they continued to paddle with a vigour that spoke well for their endurance.

Leslie now tacked again to the eastward, standing on until he could only see the canoe when she and the catamaran topped the back of a swell together, when he again hove about. Twenty minutes later he once more crossed the wake of the canoe, and now found that he had done much better, having neared her to within about eight hundred yards. He now lashed the catamaran's helm for a moment, leaving her to steer herself, and, picking up one of the rifles, took careful aim with it at the flying canoe, hoping to send a bullet near enough to her to spur her crew to renewed exertions, so tiring them out and compelling them to take the direction in which he desired them to go. He waited a favourable opportunity, and presently, when the canoe was hove up into plain view, brought both sights dead on her, and pulled the trigger. A moment later she sank into the trough and disappeared, but as she was on the point of vanishing he distinctly saw one of her occupants leap up, with a wild flourish of his paddle, and sink back into the bottom of the boat. Then he tacked once more to the eastward.

Altering his tactics now, and making short boards athwart the wake of the canoe, Leslie found that the chase was once more holding her own, this state of things prevailing until they had worked out an offing of about nine miles, when the catamaran again began to gain, until she had neared the chase to within about a quarter of a mile. Meanwhile Leslie had been carefully considering the whole situation. He was by nature a most humane man, one who would not willingly injure a fellow-being on any account, and, indeed, would go far out of his way to do even a total stranger a service; but there could be no two opinions upon the matter, he told himself—these savages must be made to understand that raiding expeditions to this particular island were too dangerous and unprofitable a pastime to be indulged in. He therefore once more opened fire upon them, and now in deadly earnest, his first three shots missing, while his fourth struck the hull of the canoe and made the splinters fly. Then he scored two more misses, followed by a hit that extorted a shriek from one of the crew. This last shot had the desired effect; the canoe bore up and headed away to the southward and westward with the catamaran hot in chase.

With wind and sea abeam, the chased and the chaser now went along with considerably accelerated speed, the catamaran, however, having very much the best of it; and within ten minutes from the moment of bearing up Leslie found himself closing fast upon the canoe, and less than a hundred yards astern of her. He now considered himself near enough to administer a final lesson to her crew of impudent marauders—who, to do them justice, were by this time looking scared out of their wits, and extremely sorry that they had ever molested him—so he put his helm down, hauled his fore sheet to windward, and dumped five raking shots into the canoe as he swept athwart her stern. Instantly the whole crew, dropping their paddles, flung themselves down into the bottom of the craft, and buried their heads in their arms, as though they would by that means protect themselves from the mysterious and terrible missiles wherewith they were being assailed; while three white spots that started into view on the hull of the canoe told that his shots had penetrated her close to the water-line. Leslie now held his hand, for he had no mind to take the lives of these savages unnecessarily; but he watched them carefully, nevertheless. And presently, one after another, eight black heads cautiously lifted themselves above the gunwale. The eyes in those heads stared wonderingly and apprehensively at the catamaran and her occupant, their owners evidently holding themselves ready to duck again at the first sign of danger; but at length, seeing that Leslie was indisposed to further interfere with them, they seized their remaining paddles—four only in number, the remainder having been lost overboard in their panic—and put the canoe dead before the wind.

It was clear to Leslie that, with only four paddles left, the savages could not possibly propel their canoe to windward and return to his island; they must perforce go to leeward and make their way back to their own island as best they could. He had therefore no more to fear from them—at least for the present; and he accordingly let draw his fore sheet and, getting way on the catamaran, tacked and bore away for the mouth of the entrance channel, leaving his enemies to paddle before the wind and sea, and find their way back home again if they could.

The catamaran had arrived within about six miles of the channel, and Leslie was already debating within himself the question whether, after all, it would not have been a wiser and more prudent thing to have put it beyond the power of his surviving antagonists to return to their friends, and possibly organise a very much more formidable expedition against him, and whether, even now, it would not be advisable to go in chase of and utterly destroy them, when his eye was attracted to a small triangular object of brownish yellow tint that, brilliantly illuminated by the bright sunlight, showed up strongly against the dazzling white of the surf breaking upon the weather edge of the reef. It was in shape like a shark's fin, but was not the same colour; it was hull down, and was sliding along at a rapid rate past the wall of surf. It needed but a single glance to enable Leslie to determine that it was a sail, ay, and undoubtedly the sail of a native canoe.

Sick with the sudden thought of the possibilities suggested by the presence of such an object just where he saw it, Dick took a hasty turn of a rope's-end round the tiller-head and with one bound reached the weather-shrouds, up which he shinned with an agility equalled only by the dread that struck like a knife at his heart. In a moment he was high enough to get a footing upon the throat of the gaff, from which elevation he was enabled to obtain a clear view of the craft. She was about three miles away, well to the southward of the dense column of smoke rising from the blazing brig, and was edging away round the curved outer margin of the reef, heading so as to pass to the southward of the island in a westerly direction. She was too far distant, of course, to enable Leslie to distinguish details with his unaided eye, but he could see that she was a big craft, capable, he thought, of carrying quite forty men, she showed a very large sail to the freshly blowing breeze, and was skimming along at a very rapid pace.

This was as much as Leslie could make out at that distance; but it was enough, and, groaning with dire apprehension of some dreadful evil, he slid down the shrouds and went aft to the tiller. He could see through the whole devilish scheme now. The gang who had set fire to the brig were evidently only a small contingent of the expedition, and it had been their duty to attract his attention and decoy him away from the island while the others—headed without doubt by those scoundrels Sambo and Cuffy—raided the camp.

That, Leslie savagely meditated, was undoubtedly what had happened. And, meanwhile, where was Flora? What had been her fate? Had she received sufficient warning to effect her escape to the Treasure-Cave, which, armed with her revolvers, she could hold for hours against any number of savages? Or had she been surprised? The thought of the latter alternative plunged Leslie into a cold sweat, and set him to muttering the most awful threats of vengeance. He had no room in his mind for thought of the possible extent of irremediable damage that the savages might have wrought in the camp; he could think of nothing but Flora; could only hope and pray that she might have made good her escape. The catamaran was sailing as well as ever, for there was a strong breeze blowing, yet Leslie ground his teeth in a fever of impatience at what he deemed her snail-like pace; for his first business now must be to ascertain the fate of the girl he loved. The very worst that could possibly have happened, apart from harm to her, was comparatively unimportant. Yet, all the same, his mind once set at rest about her, he would exact a terrible penalty from those daring marauders; he would pursue them, ay, to their very island itself, if need were; while, if he caught them at sea, not a man should survive to organise another expedition against him. He felt now that he had been a weak fool not to utterly exterminate the decoy party that he had just left.

At length, after what to Leslie appeared an eternity of suspense, the catamaran passed through the entrance channel and bore away for the camp, a raking view of which was to be obtained as soon as the veiling wall of surf was passed. To his inexpressible relief, the framework of the cutter still stood on the stocks, apparently uninjured; and inshore of it he could see the tent, also apparently uninjured. He had been cherishing a sort of half hope that he would also see Flora standing on the beach awaiting his arrival; but she was not there, and, upon reflection, he was not greatly surprised. No doubt she was still in hiding, and would probably not reappear until he had succeeded in making her aware of his return and of the fact that all danger was now past. As the catamaran sped along Leslie's keen glance roved anxiously over the various parts of the camp as they opened out, and he presently saw that his savage visitors had been busy with the varied items of the cargo that he had saved from the brig and stored under canvas, for the canvas cover was folded back, and boxes and bales were strewed here and there upon the sward. Ah, and there was Sailor—good dog!—lying down on the beach close to the water-line, waiting for him. But where, then, was Flora? She could certainly not be far off, or Sailor would not be there, lying so quietly and lazily stretched out in the sun. Leslie seized his rifle and fired a signal shot to let the girl know that he was at hand; but the echoes of the report pealed off the face of the mountain and still she did not appear, nor—stranger still—did Sailor leap to his feet with a welcoming bark. What, Dick wondered, was the matter with the old dog? Why did he lie there so utterly motionless? and what was that long thin shaft that looked almost as though its point were embedded in his body? Leslie gave vent to a bitter groan; for as he bore up to run the catamaran in upon the beach, he recognised only too clearly that the poor dog was dead—slain by the cruel spear that transfixed his body. And he saw, too—just in time to avoid grounding the catamaran upon the spot—that the sand of the beach was marked with many naked footprints, leading to and fro between the camp and a mark upon the sand that had evidently been left there by a canoe.

Leaping ashore, and taking care not to confuse the footprints by obliterating them with his own, Leslie examined the marks with the most anxious care; and presently his most dreadful fears were realised, for plainly to be distinguished here and there among the imprints of bare feet were the prints of Flora's little shoes, blurred in places, as though she had offered strenuous resistance to the coercion of her captors, but quite unmistakable for all that. Dick subjected the whole length of the track, from the water's edge to the boundary of the sward, to a most rigid examination, and at length satisfied himself that Flora's footprints all led in one direction, namely toward the water; and then, with a savage cry, he went to work to prepare for the pursuit. For there could no longer be a shadow of doubt that Flora had been carried off, and was at that moment aboard the canoe that he had seen under sail. Oh, if he had but known—if he had but known!

His preparations were few, and did not take very long to complete. He first dashed off to the tent, and, snatching the mattress and bedding from his bed, rushed down to the catamaran with it, and, flinging it down on deck, covered it with a tarpaulin. He would certainly be out one night, if not two, and Flora would need something softer than the bare planks to lie upon when he had rescued her. Then, returning to the tent, he flung into a basket all the provisions that he could lay his hands upon, together with half a dozen bottles of wine—there was no time to go to the spring for water—and this with a small case of rifle ammunition and a few others matters that he thought would be useful, he also conveyed on board the catamaran. He was now ready to start; but as yet he knew not in what direction the canoe was steering, except that she was undoubtedly bound to the westward. Now, there were at least three islands lying in that direction, and the canoe was probably bound to one or the other of these; but it was of the utmost importance to know which one, for any mistake upon this point would be fatal, as it must result in the canoe being missed altogether. So Leslie took a boat compass that had originally belonged to the brig, and the telescope, and, thus provided, made his way as rapidly as possible to Mermaid Head—as he had named the most southerly point of the island—hoping and believing that from the lofty cliffs of that headland the flying canoe would still be in sight.

To climb to this point cost him twenty minutes of precious time, although he did the whole distance at a run; but when he got there he felt that the time had been well spent. For there, some ten miles away, with the afternoon sun shining brightly upon her sail, lay the fugitive canoe, scudding away on a due westerly course, with the wind over her port quarter. He cast a hurried glance over that part of the ocean where he believed the second canoe ought to be, and at length thought he caught sight of her, but could not be certain, as the light of the sun lay strong upon the sea in that direction. But when at length he got into the field of his telescope the image of what he had seen, he found that it was some object, about the size of the smaller canoe, certainly, but floating awash. If therefore it was indeed the canoe that he had already pursued, she had either capsized or been swamped, and there was an end of her and her crew. He now carefully took the bearing of the big canoe, and, this done, at once set out on his journey back to the camp and beach.

The return journey was accomplished in about a quarter of an hour, for it was all downhill. Then, having reached the camp, Leslie hunted up one or two further articles that he anticipated might be useful, and, rushing down to the catamaran, got under way and headed her for the channel. The breeze had by this time freshened up somewhat, and the craft heeled over under the pressure of her enormous mainsail until her lee pontoon was buried to its gunwale, while the weather-shrouds were strained as taut as harp-strings; but Dick only smiled grimly as he heard the wind singing and piping through his rigging; he would scarcely have shortened sail for a hurricane just then. The queer-looking structure tore at racing speed across the smooth surface of the lagoon, shearing through it with a vicious hiss along her bends and a roaring wave under her lee bow, and so out to sea. Leslie was compelled to haul his wind for a short distance after shooting through the channel, in order to clear the northern extremity of the reef; but he tacked the instant that he had room, and stood away to the southward, skirting the outer margin of the reef as closely as he dared and gradually edging away as the reef curved round in a westerly direction. He found himself close in under the cliffs of Mermaid's Head about half an hour after clearing the entrance channel, and then at once shaped a course corresponding to the bearing of the canoe as taken from the summit of those same cliffs.

He calculated that the canoe had secured a fifteen miles' start of him, and, estimating as nearly as he could her speed from the glimpse that he had caught of her as she skimmed past the reef earlier on in the day, he doubted very much whether the speed of the catamaran exceeded that of the canoe by more than a couple of miles in the hour, to which might be added or subtracted a trifle according to the relative merits of the respective helmsmen. Knowing that in a stern-chase every trifle tells, Leslie steered as carefully as he knew how, and as one of the catamaran's merits happened to be that she would steer almost as well off the wind as she would on a taut bowline, he hoped that through this he might be able to gain a little extra advantage. Furthermore, he had a compass—which it was reasonable to suppose that the savages lacked— and that ought to prove a further help to him.

Being now, as he believed, fairly upon the track of the fleeing canoe, and having eaten nothing since breakfast, Leslie deemed the moment a fitting one wherein to snatch a meal; and this he did, steering with one hand and feeding himself with the other as he alternately eyed the compass and looked ahead on the watch for the first glimpse of the canoe's triangular sail, although he knew full well that several hours must elapse ere he might hope for that. And, meanwhile, what agonies of terror and despair would not that highly strung and gently nurtured girl be suffering! At the mere thought Dick set his teeth and carefully scrutinised the set of his canvas—already trimmed to a hair—to see if there was anything he could do to get a little extra speed out of his flying craft.

Meanwhile the sun slowly declined in the western sky, and finally sank, in a blaze of purple and crimson and gold, beneath the horizon; the glowing tints quickly faded to a dull purplish grey, a star suddenly glittered in the eastern sky, and was quickly followed by another and another, and two or three more, until the entire dome of heaven was spangled with them, and night was upon the solitary voyager. Dick lit the lantern that he had brought with him, and so arranged it that its light should fall upon the compass card, lit his pipe, and set himself to the task of endeavouring to work out a scheme for the recovery of his sweetheart without injury to her or—what was of almost as much importance, so far as her ultimate safety was concerned—himself.

It was a fortunate conjunction of circumstances that the savages had chosen—doubtless for their own convenience—the time of full moon for their raid, and night had scarcely fallen ere a brightening of the sky in the eastern quarter proclaimed the advent of the "sweet regent of the night." Leslie's island lay full in the wake of the rising orb; and for nearly half an hour the catamaran scudded along within the shadow of the peak, which stretched dark and clear-cut far over the ocean ahead of her. Little by little the shadow shortened, however, and by-and-by the catamaran slid over the edge of it as the gleaming disc emerged from behind the northern edge of the peak, and flooded the whole of the sea to the eastward with dancing streaks of glittering liquid silver.

It was about a quarter of an hour later that, as the catamaran rose upon the back of a somewhat higher swell than usual, Leslie's quick eye caught a momentary glimpse of a tiny white gleaming point straight ahead; and his heart leaped with joy, for he knew that what he had seen was the upper tip of the canoe's triangular sail. Greedily he watched for its next appearance, rejoicing meanwhile in the knowledge that the shadowed sides of his own sails were turned toward the flying canoe, and that behind them again loomed up the dark background of the peak; it would consequently need very sharp eyes—even though they should be those of a savage—to descry them.

For twenty minutes or so following upon the first sighting of the chase Leslie was able to catch only brief intermittent glimpses of the sail, as one or the other of the flying craft was swept up on the crest of a swell, but by the end of that time he had so far gained upon the canoe that even when they both sank into the trough together he was still able to see the upper part of the sail, while when both lifted simultaneously he could see the whole of it, right down to the foot, and even occasionally a glimpse of the heads of the savages; he estimated, therefore, that he had closed the chase to within a distance of about a mile.

Another quarter of an hour passed, at the expiration of which the canoe was in full view, and Leslie now took the two repeating rifles with which he had provided himself, and carefully loaded them both. But he had no intention of opening fire at long range, the motion of both craft was so lively that in the uncertain light of the moon accurate shooting would only be possible at a range of about a hundred yards, or less, and he was so fearful of the possibility of injury to Flora that he was quite determined not to shoot until he could make absolutely sure of his mark.