"Oh, very well," was the reply, and the sailor approached the basin. "What's good for you's good for me, mate. Who's afraid? Well, I am!"

He was now kneeling, and was in the act of plunging in his hands, when there was a low gurgling noise, and, as if by magic, the water in the basin was sucked rapidly down the round central hole that had been almost invisible, leaving the basin perfectly empty.

"Nearly lost the soap," said Billy Wriggs.

"And I ain't got the wash," cried Smith, in an ill-used tone.

"Beg pardon, sir, what time'll it be high water again?"

Bang! Roosh!

"Murder!" yelled Smith, throwing himself backward and rolling over, for with an explosion like that of steam, the water gushed up from the central hole, playing some twenty feet up in the air, filling the basin and deluging Wriggs before he could escape, and then dragging him back towards the central hole, down which it began to run, while the man roared lustily for help.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

A CROCODILE.

As soon as he could get upon his feet Smith ran as he supposed for his life, but his messmate's call drew him back and he ran as quickly to his help. Too late though to render any assistance, for Drew, who was nearest, leaned forward and caught Wriggs' hand, stopping his progress toward the centre for the moment, and then his feet glided from beneath him on the smooth, sloping tufa and he too went down, and had to be aided by Oliver and Panton, who drew both out just as Smith reached the edge of the basin.

"Why don't yer mind!" roared the latter, excitedly. "Want to lie down there in the hot water and drowned yerself?"

"No, matey, can't say as I do," growled Wriggs, shaking himself as he edged farther and farther away. "But this here's about the dangerousest place as I was ever in as I knows on. Been dowsed a good many times in my life, but not like this here. Got yourselves very wet, gentlemen?"

"Oh, no, only splashed," said Oliver. "Here, you two had better get back to the brig."

Smith looked at his messmate.

"Feared, mate?" he said.

"Eh?" replied Wriggs, rubbing his ear well. "I dunno 'bout feared now. I'm werry wet."

"Then go back and change your things," said Oliver.

Wriggs scratched his head now and hesitated.

"Beg pardon, sir, I couldn't help letting go, 'cause I thought we was all going to be sucked down that hole, and yer couldn't tell whether yer was coming up again; and though I'm a tidy swimmer, I never tried hot water; but if so be as you don't mind, me and my mate'd rayther go on along with you."

"But you're so wet, my lad."

"Well, sir, that'll only be a job for the sun to dry us, and it's been a good wash for us and our duds too."

"Oh, if you don't mind," said Oliver; "I don't think it will hurt you. What do you say, Wriggs?"

"I didn't say nothing, sir; I was only squeezing the hot water out o' my trowges."

"But do you mind being wet?"

"No, sir. I was born aboard a canal boat, and often tumbled in and had to be fished out by my father with the spitcher. I rayther like it."

"That's right, Billy. You don't want to go back, do you?"

"No, matey, I want to continue on my travels, and see this here cur'us land; only if we air to have another adventer I should like it to be a dry 'un, if it's all the same to the gents."

"Then come along," said Oliver, "you'll soon get dry."

"Oh, yes, sir," said Smith; "but if it's all the same to you, sir, I should like to know how that there thing works."

"Ah! that's more than I can tell you," replied Oliver, looking at the basin, which was once more clear blue, and as smooth as if it had never been disturbed. "It's a geyser, of course."

"Yes, sir," said Smith, as Oliver looked at him as if expecting he would speak; "I thought it was some'at o' that sort."

"And such things are not uncommon in volcanic countries."

"Arn't they though, sir?" said Smith, with a puzzled expression. "But it warn't byling hot."

"Oh, no, not within some seventy degrees."

"Then how come it to byle over, sir? Ain't that rather cur'us?"

"Yes, very curious indeed."

"Yes, sir, and this seems to be a rather cur'us place."

"Yes, Smith, and very grand and wonderful. We have been extremely fortunate to get ashore in such a naturalist's paradise."

"Paradise, sir?" said Smith, with rather a curious look. "Well, sir, I shouldn't have called it that."

"Look here," cried Oliver to his two companions, "shall we wait and see if the geyser plays again?"

"Oh, no," said Drew, "I want to get forward. We shall have plenty more opportunities, and this forest ahead looks grand."

"Yes, come along," cried Panton, rising from chipping a piece of rock. "Look here, this is evidently volcanic and full of iron. The mountain must be tremendous. Do you think it is always shut in by those clouds?"

"No," said Drew; "depend upon it they are caused by the late eruption. That tremendous roar was the end, and I fancy it was caused by the water rushing in from the sea. This is only the steam rising. Here, Lane, you have fallen into the right place and can fill the British Museum if you are industrious."

They were now coming to the end of the barren tract made by the earthquake wave sweeping the rock in places bare, in others covering the surface with debris of coral sand, rolled pebble and shell from the sea; but before reaching the band of verdure which stood at the top of a slope, they had to pass two or three depressions in which mud and water still lay, and upon reaching one of these they found to their surprise that it was far more extensive than they had anticipated. For there before them stretched acres upon acres of a muddy lagoon, dotted with islands, and evidently alive with fish swept in from the sea.

"Hi! look-ye there, Billy Wriggs!" cried Smith, excitedly. "See that?"

"Course I can, matey; it's water."

"Well, I know that, stoopid, but look what's in it. Over yonder on that bank—there close alongside o' that lump o' white rock."

"What of it?" said Wriggs. "Only a trunk of an old tree."

"Ay, four-legged 'un, with a head and tail, having a nap in the sunshine. Why, it's one o' them eft things as we used to ketch with a worm in the ponds when we was boys."

"Get out! You go and play tricks with some 'un else, matey," said Wriggs, contemptuously. "Think I don't know no better than that?"

"You are a clever one, Billy, and no mistake," growled Smith. "I never did see a chap more ready not to believe the truth. If you hadn't been born a Christian, mate, nobody wouldn't never have converted you, and you'd ha' been a regular heathen savage all your days."

"Go it, matey! Much more on it? Let's have it all while you're about it."

"You shall, Billy, because a good talking to'll do you good, and knock some o' the wanity out of you. You see, you don't know everything."

"And you do, eh, Tommy?"

"Nay, not quite," said Smith, giving his head a roll; "but I do know as that's one o' the same sort o' things as I used to see lying in the mud as I was once going up to Calcutta. That's a halligator, matey, on'y some folks calls the big uns crockydiles, and the niggers out there muggers, 'cause they've got such ugly mugs."

"What! do you mean to tell me as that log o' wood with the rough bark on it's alive?"

"Yes, all alive O!"

"Get out," cried Wriggs, scrutinising the brute searchingly as it lay about fifty yards away. "That there's a trunk of a tree with all the branches rubbed off. Well, I never did!"

For at that moment the reptile crawled a little further from the water, raised its head, and looked to right and left, and then subsided again in the hot sunshine, sinking partially into the mud.

"Rummy sort o' tree that, eh, Billy?" said Smith.

"Sort o' tree!" cried Wriggs, in a tone of thorough disgust. "Why, I call it a himposition. What does a thing mean by going on like that? I could ha' sweered as it warn't alive."

"Hold your row, the gents is a-going to shoot."

They stood watching, for Drew had been busy changing one of the cartridges in his gun for another containing a ball.

"It's of no use to shoot it," said Oliver, "and I don't think you could hit it in a vital place."

"I'm going to try," said Drew quietly, as Panton followed his example.

"Yes," said the latter, "if we are to stay in this island or whatever it is, we can't afford to share the place with a creature like that. These things are very dangerous."

"Hist! Tommy," whispered Wriggs, excitedly, "he can hear what they says, and he don't believe they can hit him and hurt him. Did yer see him smile?"

"Well, I call it a laugh, matey. Yes, they've got a nice open sort o' countenance, them crockydiles. What a time it must take'm to clean their teeth of a morning!"

"Ay, and to pick 'em after dinner. Would one o' them tackle a man?"

"Yes, or a cow either. They've got a way of—I say, just look at him."

Wriggs was all attention, and the three naturalists as well; for, after opening its mouth and displaying its tremendous gape, the reptile slowly turned round so as to face toward the water from which it had crawled, and then subsided, lying so close and still in the sand and mud that it more than ever resembled the trunk of some old tree.

The position now for a shot was not so satisfactory, as it in all probability meant the disappearance of the reptile at its first plunge; but all the same Drew raised his piece and gave his companions a sharp look, Panton raising his double gun as well for the next shot.

But Oliver held up his hand.

"Don't shoot," he whispered. "I want to watch the brute for a few minutes. Let's see."

He had a reason for speaking; naturalist-like, he never lost an opportunity for observing the habits of the different creatures he came across, and he had noticed a couple of crane-like birds coming stalking along from the far side of the bank on their long stilt-shaped legs. Like everything the wrecked party had encountered, the birds seemed to know no fear of man, acting as if they had never seen such a being before. Hence they were coming straight over to the side opposite to the little party.

Oliver's little double glass was out in a moment, focussed and fixed upon the objects, while, with all a naturalist's love of the beautiful, he feasted upon the bright eyes, drooping crests, and lovely grey and white plumage of the two birds which showed in every way their wonderful adaptability for the life they led.

"Look here," said Panton, "we want to shoot that loathsome reptile."

"And I want to look at the cranes. If you fire you'll scare them."

"Shoot them, then," said Drew.

"No, no, don't, or you'll startle the crocodile. I don't want to shoot them," said Oliver; "I want to study their habits a bit, and they'll go into the water here close to us."

Just then the second crane, which was stalking gravely behind its companion, stopped short, and uttered a warning cry. It was too late. Simultaneously, the crocodile, which had been cunningly watching the bird; made a scythe-like blow with its tail, and swept the foremost, broken and helpless, into the lagoon. Then, springing up as the second bird took flight, the reptile was making a rush for the water, when Drew's gun spoke out, and Panton's followed with such good effect, that the crocodile's progress was checked, and it swung itself round to lie with its tail in the water, thrashing about, and raising a muddy spray, which spread for far enough, spattering upon the water like so much dirty rain.

"Just sarves you right, my smiling beauty," cried Smith, excitedly. "Strikes me you won't break no more birds' legs for some time to come. Hit him again, sir."

Drew's second barrel was fired as he spoke, for the reptile was gradually working round, as if to plunge into the water, but the bullet it now received in the side of the head checked it, and a fourth from Panton made it sink down almost motionless, save that it made a few feeble snaps with its jaws.

"And I'm precious glad on it," said Billy Wriggs, who had taken the most intense interest in the affair. "Like me to walk in and fetch out that there bird, sir?" he continued, pointing to where the crane floated upon the surface of the lagoon.

"I should like the bird," said Oliver, "but I don't think it would be safe for you to wade in, Wriggs. Perhaps it will float ashore."

"I'm so wet, sir, a drop more water won't hurt me."

"I was not thinking about your getting wet," replied Oliver, who was intently watching the bird, which was apparently quite dead, "but of the risk of your encountering another crocodile."

"What, in there, sir—in the water?"

"Yes, I daresay there are several about."

"Oh," said Wriggs, softly, "I didn't think of that," and he stood scratching his head, and wrinkled up his face, as he looked at the prostrate reptile.

"Didn't yer know as they was amphibilious animals, Bill," said Smith, in a low voice.

"What's amphibilious animals?" growled Wriggs.

"Things as gets their living in the waters, and sleeps outside."

"Oh, that's it, is it?" said the sailor, thoughtfully. "And what would one o' they chaps do, if he was to meet my legs? He couldn't hit out with his tail in the water."

"No lad, he'd hoperate with his head."

"Then I don't think, Tommy, as we'll come here when we wants a swim, eh?"

"No lad. Strikes me that—I say; look ye there!"

The appeal was needless, for every one was looking toward where the light breeze and the spreading rings caused by the lashing of the crocodile's tail had carried the dead crane, which Oliver was longing to get as a specimen of bird life unknown, he believed, to science, for all at once, there was a faint, rippling movement visible close to it, then a violent agitation. A long, lithe creature suddenly made a dart partly out of the water, and quick as lightning, they saw its yellowish folds wrapped round the bird, which was directly after borne down out of sight.

"Sea-snake, I think," said Oliver, eagerly, in answer to his companions' questioning looks.

"Hear that, Billy?" whispered Smith, giving his friend a nudge.

"Oh, yes, I hear," growled Wriggs; "says he thinks it's a snake, but it warn't. I see it, and it was a heel. Didn't yer see how it tied itself up in a knot round the long-legged bird? I say, I mean to set a night-line, and ketch that gentleman. Heels is about the best fish to eat as swims."

"But aren't you going to wade across and fetch the crocodile over, Billy?"

"No, matey, I aren't. 'Cause why? It's much safer ashore."



CHAPTER EIGHT.

INTO THE MIST.

The lagoon was skirted, and after rather a toilsome ascent among rocks half smothered in creepers, the edge of the forest was reached, and a halt called under the shade of a great fig-tree, among whose small, ripe fruits a flock of brilliant little scarlet and green lories were feeding; and here, seated about on the great, projecting roots, the party partook of a delicious meal, feasting their eyes at the same time upon the prospect around. For, from the elevation at which they now were, they were able to look right over the low land that had been swept by the vast wave, to where there was another slight elevation clothed with trees.

As far as they could see, the low ground was spread with scattered blocks of coral and lava, while here and there, little bright patches told of shells that had been ground and polished thin by the action of the waves, and now showed their glistening, pearly material.

Another look to the left across blocks of white coral, and over pools slowly evaporating in the hot sunshine, showed the course the ship had taken from where the sea beat against the reef-girdled shore. It was all plain enough; that was the edge of the land, with a belt of calm, blue water, and beyond that, as far as eye could reach to right and left, a barrier reef of coral, upon which the great billows curved over, flashing in the sun, and crested with their soft, white foam.

"It seems beyond belief," said Oliver at last. "Who could imagine that our vessel could be borne right inland here and set down upon an even keel almost uninjured?"

"And without the smallest chance of ever sailing the sea again," said Panton, quietly.

"I say, look here, you two, we're not going to settle down here like so many Robinson Crusoes, are we!" cried Drew.

"Only just so long, I say, as it will take us to make complete collections of the natural history of the place," said Oliver, "for I begin to be in hopes that the land is quite new, and that no one has ever set foot upon it before."

"Then you think it is an island?" said Drew, who was eating with one hand, collecting specimens of plants with the other.

"If he doesn't, I do," cried Panton, taking out a little bright steel hammer and beginning to chip at a block of stone held fast by one of the roots of the big tree under whose branches they were seated. "Look at this—slag. I say that we are on a volcanic island, formed by a mountain rising out of the sea and pouring out its streams of lava, and throwing up its blocks and stones and cinders."

"What about the coral, then? The place is covered with scattered blocks."

"Oh, those were carried in by the great wave," continued Panton. "Once an island like this is thrust up from the bottom of the sea, the coral insects soon begin to be busy and build all round it. Look at the reef yonder."

"Then you think the volcano is in the middle of the island?" said Drew, taking out his pocket lens to examine a tiny blossom.

"That doesn't follow," said Panton, oracularly, as he chipped off a fragment of lava, which fresh fracture glistened brightly. "The mountain may be just at the edge of the island, possibly on a cape. I should say this one is, and cut off from sight by that wall of mist, which seems to be rising from a gulf extending right across. What are you men muttering there about tools?"

"Beg pardon, sir," said Smith, "I only said to my mate as you gents seemed to have tools for everything."

"There," cried Oliver, "time's getting on, and I want to reach that mist, get through, and see what the place is like on the other side. Ready?"

For answer the others sprang up, all being eager to see more of the country upon which they had been so singularly cast, and for the next hour they were fighting their way through the dense forest, every cut and slash they made with their pocket-knives to rid themselves of creeper and thorn, destroying growth which was of intense interest to Drew, while Panton damaged his shins over blocks of stone he longed to chip, while dislodging insects and scaring birds and quadrupeds, of which Oliver got but a glance.

They were constantly stopping to mop their faces, for the heat was tremendous, and their progress very slow, but still they got on, some open patch caused by the falling of a great tree rotted away by age, or strangled by some creeper, giving them light and a breath of the soft sea air overhead.

Everything here was beautifully green and fresh, the eruption having left it unharmed, till, at the end of another tedious hour's work over gradually rising ground full of jagged rifts and tumbled together stones, which told of a convulsion of nature far back in some distant age, when, in place of towering forest trees all must have been absolutely bare and level. Smith, who was in front, cutting and slashing with his jack-knife, uttered a shout.

"Land ho!" he cried, for they were evidently nearly through the sea of verdure, the sky showing beneath the huge branches.

"At last!" cried Oliver, who was panting with the exertion, while his companions' faces were torn and bleeding. "We must get Mr Rimmer to let the men cut a way through here."

"Now then!" shouted Wriggs from somewhere ahead just then. "None o' them tricks. D'yer hear?"

"Come, come, my man," said Drew, sternly, "keep to your work. This is no time for playing."

"All right, sir, but please speak to Tommy Smith. Man don't want big nuts chucked at his head."

"Who's a-chucking nuts?" cried Smith, indignantly, and he began to force his way back into sight of his companions.

"Why, you did, and hit me just now."

"Sweer I didn't!" cried Smith. "Here, hullo! Drop that, will you? Who was that?"

A great nut, half as big as a man's head, had struck the speaker on the shoulder.

"Why, there's someone up in that tree throwing at us!" said Drew.

"Yes, I see him," cried Wriggs, "that big tree, just where it's getting light. Here, I see you: leave off will yer?"

"It's the natives, sir," said Smith, in a warning voice. "Get your guns ready, they'll be shooting pysoned arrows directly."

"I see him plain, now, sir. He's only a little black chap. Yes, there's two on 'em. Well, upon my word, if they aren't two monkeys!"

Another big nut came with a crash through the branches and, before Oliver could check him, Drew raised his gun and sent a shower of shot peppering through the leaves over the heads of the two occupants of the great tree, with the result that two large apes went swinging from bough to bough, chattering indignantly, and disappearing at once.

"You shouldn't have done that," cried Oliver. "I wanted to have a look at the creatures."

"I daresay you'll have plenty more chances, for, if this proves to be an island, they can't get away."

"But the fact of there being large creatures here, proves that it is not an island," said Oliver.

"Not a bit of it," said Panton, oracularly. "There are plenty of islands peopled with animals, because they were occupants of continents now submerged. Look at Trinidad, for instance. That was once the north-east corner of North America, and all her flora and fauna are continental."

"Oh, I say, don't be so horribly scientific," cried Oliver, "let's get out into the open where we can breathe. Look at the butterflies in that sunshiny patch. Really we have dropped into a land of wonders."

"And stinging insects and thorns," said Panton. "I say, what was that rustling away through the leaves?"

"Snake, sir, big 'un. I see his tail wiggle," cried Smith.

"Better be careful," said Oliver, gravely, "there may be poisonous snakes about the edge of the forest. Ha! What a relief!"

For he had suddenly stepped out through a dense curtain of a creeping plant into the bright sunshine, to find that for some distance in front the earth was clothed with a low, bush-like growth; then there was a broad, blackish grey stretch of land, and again beyond that the veil of vapour rising right across their way to right and left.

The little party stood out for a few minutes looking round, with the portion of the island or peninsula they had left cut off now by the forest which rose right behind them like a huge green ridge of verdure. Then, full of excitement, they began to advance through the low bushes toward the long line of white vapour slowly curling like a bank of clouds, for the one desire now among all was to stand face to face with the mountain which had partially burned up the face of the beautiful tropic land.

It soon became evident that they were traversing a stretch of newly springing up trees, for everything was of a young and tender green, but after a time there was a parched, dried-up aspect; then they came upon withered patches, and by degrees the vivid green gave place to a dull parched-up drab and grey, every leaf and blade of grass being burned up or scorched by heat and some destructive gas.

They hurried across this desolate band, for the wall of mist was but a short distance in advance, and a curious feeling of eagerness attacked the party, even to the two sailors. For beyond that curtain was evidently the centre of the mysterious volcanic force which had been answerable for their presence there, and doubtless upon passing through the vapour behind which it was hid, they would be able to grasp their fate; whether a certain amount of journeying would bring them to the habitations of men, or show them that they were shut up in some unknown isle.

"Come along," said Drew, "and let's know the worst."

"The worst!" cried Oliver. "You mean the best?"

"Well, we might be worse off," said Panton, laughing; "but be careful, all of you. This steam, or whatever it is, may be rising from some great gulf, and mists are rather confusing. Shall I lead?"

"By all means," said the others, and he stepped out for a few yards, and then, to the surprise of Oliver, who was next, it was as if they had entered the mist unconsciously, though it was thin to a degree, and the only effect was to make Panton look magnified, so that twenty yards farther on he had grown as it were into a giant.

Oliver looked back and saw that those who followed had the same aspect.

"Don't see any rift or chasm," said Panton; "but come cautiously, for the ground feels soft and spongy."

His voice sounded distant and strange to Oliver, who said loudly,—

"Is it bog, or are we getting on volcanic soil? I say, take care, the ground's quite hot here." For he was conscious now of a peculiar reeking as of steam, but his voice sounded as if it had been thrown back in his face, and, growing slightly uneasy, he turned round and called to those behind him,—"Take care how you come."

He stopped short, for there was no one in sight, and, turning sharply, the dim, giant-like figure which had represented Panton was invisible.

"Hi! Panton, where are you?" he cried, in doubt now whether he had turned completely round, and in his excitement he made a fresh step or two, then, feeling that he might have gone wrong, he tried to return, but only to become confused as he was conscious of the heat growing stifling, of a strange ringing in his ears, and either of a peculiar dimness of vision or the sudden thickening of the mist.

Then, with his heart beating heavily, he tried to raise his voice as he shouted with all his might,—

"Panton!—Drew! Where are you?"

There was a low hissing sound apparently rising from somewhere by his feet, otherwise all was silent as the grave.



CHAPTER NINE.

BEYOND THE CURTAIN.

Oliver Lane's sensations were for the moment horrible. He knew now that the steamy vapour into which they had penetrated must be full of gas perilous to human life—that the emanations from the volcanic soil were asphyxiating, and he completely lost his head, and tottered feebly here and there.

But in a few moments this passed off, for he made a desperate effort to command himself, knowing full well that if he did not act his case was hopeless. His only chance was, he knew, to rush out through the mist into pure air. But which way? He had lost all idea of the direction by which he had come; he dare not stoop down, and try to trace his foot-prints, because of the vapour being certainly more dense and dangerous closer to the surface, and all that was feasible was to make a rush, chancing whether it was forward into greater danger, to right or left, hoping only that his instinct would lead him back by the way he came.

Strong now in his intention, he drew a hot stifling breath, set his teeth and ran for a few yards; then staggered a few more, growing blind, and feeling that his senses were fast leaving him. Then his brain throbbed, a peculiar trembling weakness came over him, and, almost unconsciously, he tottered along a few steps more, reeled, and fell heavily upon the ground.

His senses did not quite leave him, for he knew that he was trying to crawl through what seemed to him to be something like soft liquid opal, with its wonderfully bright tints before his eyes, bluish, golden, creamy, fiery, and pale, then there was a darkening around them as if he were crawling into shadow; and again, directly after, as it appeared, he could see a bright glow, toward which he involuntarily struggled, for it was an instinctive effort now to preserve his life. And as he crawled onward, the glow grew brighter, he could breathe more freely, and the light gradually assumed the hue of bright sunshine, where he fell passive beneath the dense foliage of a huge tree.

Everything was very dreamy now for a time. His head throbbed and felt confused, and a sickly, deathly sensation made his brain reel. By degrees this passed away, and he lay gazing at the strange opalescent something through which he felt that he had passed, and by degrees he realised that he was watching the great curtain of mist made glorious by the sunshine, and easily understood now why, in his strange semi-insensibility, this had seemed to be a liquid through which he had crawled while breathing the strange mephitic air.

"Then I did go in the right direction," was his next thought, as he still lay feeble and languid, and as if regaining his senses after taking some powerful opiate.

He felt a kind of satisfaction at this, and luxuriously drew in great draughts of soft warm air. For it was a delight to breathe freely, and lie there without making any exertion. The trees were so green and bright, and the flowers of such delicious tints, especially those he could see climbing up and up, and spreading their wealth of blossoms in one spot, till that was one lovely sheet of colour.

"It doesn't matter."

These words pretty well expressed Oliver Lane's thoughts for some time before he attempted to move. The past, save and except the dim memory of his having been in some trouble in a mist and losing his way, had no existence for him, and the young man lay there in a state of the most intense egotism, utterly prostrate, but supremely content.

Then all at once there was a change.

He felt a sensation of discomfort, and his hand began to stray about him, and he found that his double-barrelled gun, slung by a strap across his shoulders, was beneath his back, and the lock was pressing against his ribs.

He changed his position so as to lay the gun beside him, and the movement shot an acute pain through his head.

It did more; it sent a pang of mental agony through his brain; and he scrambled up to his knees, to bend down, pressing his hands to the sides of his head as if to keep it from splitting apart as he recalled all now, and stared wildly about him in search of his companions.

The sensation of selfish enjoyment had all passed away, and he was in full possession of his faculties.

He had found his way back, then, out of the mist, but where were they?

No; he was wrong; he had not found his way back as he fancied at first, for where they entered the land around was burned up and bare; here everything was glorious with tropic growth; there were lovely butterflies, inches across the wing, and metallic in tint; brightly plumaged birds, too, were darting past his eyes. He must have passed right through the mist to the farther side and reached the place they sought.

He involuntarily turned, and there, about a couple of miles away apparently, and rising far up in the clear blue sky, with a huge ball-like cloud suspended above the conical top, was the great volcano, bare, stern, and repellent, without a scrap of verdure to relieve the eye. It stood up tremendous in height, and in his rapid glance Oliver Lane could see how all round had been blackened, or charred into a greyish ash-colour, save in two places, where broad blackish bands reached from a chasm near the top of the crater, right down the sides, till they were hidden by the tall trees still standing, and apparently spreading from the gentle eminence upon which he knelt for about a mile.

Where, then, were his friends, he asked himself, and recovering his feet now, he had to seize the nearest bough and hold on, for a sudden giddiness assailed him, and he nearly fell. But this passed off in a few moments, and he stood looking round to see if they too had passed through.

But as far as he could see, he was alone in an open jungly spot, teeming with all that was bright and beautiful in nature, and shut off from his companions by the curtain of mist they had set out to pierce.

He hailed and hailed again as loudly as he could, and a faint cry answered him, but a few repetitions made him aware of the fact that it was only his own voice, echoed back from the mountain-side, and a strange sense of loneliness and despair attacked him now.

For as he recalled his own adventure, it was evident to him that he had had a very narrow escape from suffocation, the mist being evidently a volcanic exhalation, rising from the earth in a long low portion extending for miles in a curve, perhaps being the extent to which the mountain had reached in some far-off time; in fact, there might have been an old crater here only a little raised above the sea.

But he shook off the despondency, and fought back the idea that his companions might have been overcome by the escaping gases, and forced himself to believe that if they were not somewhere on his side hidden from him by the trees, they had safely made their way back to the side from which they had started.

He knew he had no grounds for all this, as they must necessarily have been as much confused and overcome as he, but he came to the conclusion which he wished to be true, and after mounting to the highest bit of ground in his immediate neighbourhood, he hailed again and again, listening patiently in the intervals for some reply.

There was a musical piping whistle twice, and once he was aware of a curious grunting sound from some trees away to his right, and this was repeated on his hailing again. Then all was silent once more, and he stood, now looking round, now watching the line of mist from which he hoped to see his companions emerge.

There were moments when he felt convinced that they had reached the same side as he, and he set to work hurrying here and there as fast as the tangled growth of the pathless forest would allow, hailing from time to time, but all in vain, and at last, dripping with perspiration, panting and exhausted, he leaned against a tree.

He had something else to combat now besides weariness, a terrible feeling of depression, for the thought would keep on coming with constant recurrence that his friends had perished in the mist.

He mastered this thought as the feeling of exhaustion passed away, and was ready to laugh at the sense of dread caused by his loneliness. For, as he told himself, it was probably all imagination respecting his friends, and there was nothing to mind. He was only separated from the vessel by a comparatively short distance, and sooner or later an effort would be made to reach him. It might not be possible to pass through the foul gases, but surely the long line of mist could be circumvented; and he climbed to the highest point he could then find to try and see its ends.

There was nothing to fear, for he had his gun, plenty of ammunition, and a little provision left. The place was wonderfully beautiful, and offered a tempting number of objects to a naturalist, as soon as he could make himself sufficiently calm to begin to investigate.

And it was in the above spirit, feeling quite certain that sooner or later he would see a party coming in search of him, he began to examine, turning his attention first towards the huge volcano, which rose up grim and forbidding away to the north, with the globular cloud poised over its highest part, which seemed as if cut right across in a slope.

Once he could turn his thoughts from the idea of peril, he began to be interested and eager; for he was in the position so dear to a lover of nature, there in a land surrounded by bird and insect forms for the most part entirely fresh to him.

But there were other things to think of first. Principally, there was that important discovery to make whether they were surrounded by the sea, and to try and find this out he sought a higher point than any he had yet mounted, and, taking out his little glass, followed the face of the mist till it reached the glittering waters of the sea, and then tried to trace the coastline towards the volcano.

This he was able to do with pretty good success, but as his glass was directed to the lower and eastern slope of the mountain, he found that he was as wise as ever, for the base of the mighty cone completely shut off all view in that direction.

Turning to the mist again, he followed its edge to the west as far as he could reach, but the inequalities in the surface baulked him here, and he could not make out the sea in that direction.

He closed his little glass and turned to the mist curtain, that mysterious dim line glistening with opalescent colours, and determined as a last resource to walk quietly as close to it as he could, before the gases began to affect him, then to draw back a few yards, take a few deep inspirations, so as to fully inflate his lungs, and then rush straight through; for he argued to himself, if he could pass through once unprepared and taken by surprise, he could certainly reverse the action.

In this spirit, and so as to get a little encouragement and inspiriting for another task—in other words, so as to enjoy the feeling that a way of retreat was open to him—he walked back toward the depression along which the vapour rose, examining every step of the way, and noticing that by degrees all growth ceased as he approached, and that the ground gradually grew softer and then spongy to the tread, as if he were walking over a bog.

The air remained very clear and good to breathe as he went on nearer and nearer, seeing now that the fumes rose softly all along one jagged line such as might have been formed by the earth opening right before him. But there was no opening. As far as he could penetrate the dim mist, the earth looked perfectly level, but the vapour rose from it as it does or appears to do from a swampy meadow on a fine autumn evening; and it was evident to him that he might try and dash through without fear of running headlong into some chasm.

Just then, as he stood gazing down at the bottom of the curtain, the idea struck him that perhaps there had been a wide rift right across to right and left; that it had been filled up by volcanic matter, and the vapour was caused by this lava or hot liquid mud slowly cooling down.

Convinced that this must be so, he had full endorsement of the correctness of his theory, for on lifting one foot to go on, he found that the other was sinking slowly, and a little further investigation showed him that a faint thread of vapour was rising from the spot where his heel had been.

The meaning of this barren space, and the reason for the earth feeling spongy, was plain enough now, and he knew that he was walking over so much half-fluid volcanic pitch, whose surface was slightly hardened and formed the elastic springy band.

If it gave way!

The thought was enough to make the stoutest shudder, and feeling now that his safety lay in movement, he took a few more steps towards the vapour, finding himself, before he was aware of the fact, and without the slightest mistiness being visible, within its influence.

He started away in alarm, for he was suffering from a slight attack of vertigo, which did not pass off for a minute or two, and he walked, or rather staggered, back, with the tough elastic film over which he walked now rising and falling with an undulatory motion beneath his feet.

"Only as a last resource," he muttered, as he breathed freely once more; and he could not repress a shudder as he stepped once more on solid ground, plainly enough marked by the abounding growth, and grasping fully how horrible a quagmire of hot slime was hidden by the partially hardened crust over which he had passed.

Turning his face now toward the mountain, he hesitated for a few moments, and then determined, as the distance seemed so short, to try and do something now he was there; and in the intent of climbing a few hundred feet up its side so as to get a view beyond, he marked out what seemed to be the most open way, and started for the foot of the great slope.



CHAPTER TEN.

A NIGHT IN THE FOREST.

It required no little steady determination to attack that ascent. Oliver's nerves had been terribly shaken by that which he had gone through. The heat was intense beneath the trees, where hardly a breath of air reached him, and it was impossible to keep off the sense of loneliness and awe brought on by the knowledge that he was in the home of Nature's most terrible forces, and that the huge mountain in front, now looking so calm and majestic, might at any moment begin to belch forth showers of white-hot stones and glowing scoria, as it poured rivers of liquid lava down its sides. At any moment too he knew that he might step into some bottomless rift, or be overcome by gases, without calculating such minor chances as losing his way in the pathless wilderness through which he was struggling, or coming in contact with some dangerous beast.

But he set his teeth and toiled on, dragging thorny creepers aside, climbing over half-rotten tree-trunks, whose mouldering bark gave way, and set at liberty myriads of virulent ants. Once or twice he grasped leaves which were worse than the home-growing nettle. But he struggled on, though, with the feeling growing stronger, that if he got through the patch of forest before dark, it would be as much as he could manage, for the difficulties increased at every step.

Suddenly he stopped short, and caught at the nearest tree-trunk to save himself from falling, for the giddiness returned, and he stood panting, trying to master the horrible sensation by drawing a deeper breath. Then he clung more tightly to the tree, and knew what this sense of vertigo meant; for it was no vapour that had overcome him, but the sensation of the earth heaving beneath his feet, with a strange quivering, as if some vast force were passing, and a dull muttering, as of subterranean thunder, made the tree quiver in his grasp.

A few seconds later, as he waited for a repetition of the earth-tremor, knowing now full well that he had for the first time experienced a couple of earthquake shocks, there came from away in front a deep heavy boom, following a strange rushing sound, evidently from the summit of the volcano—the huge safety-valve from which the pent-up forces of the earth escaped to the open air.

Oliver struggled forward a few yards into a clearer spot, where he could just catch a glimpse of the crater of the mountain, and, as he had expected, there was the great globe-like cloud riven into rags of vapour, while dark-looking bodies were falling in various directions about the summit.

As he gazed, the rain of falling fragments ceased, and the torn-up flecks of cloud seemed to be drawn slowly together again by the currents of air on high, first one and then another coalescing, as the tiny globules of spilt mercury glide one into another, till all are taken up. And it was so here, the mysterious attraction blended the flying vapours into one great whole, which floated above the mouth of the burning mountain.

"And I might have been somewhere on the slope, when that burst of stones was falling," thought Oliver. "Still, I might climb up a hundred times, and no eruption occur. I'm getting cowardly, instead of being accustomed to the place."

He smiled to himself as he marked the top of the mountain, and aimed as straight as he could for its side, before plunging again into the bewildering maze of trees, whose wide-spreading foliage made all beneath a subdued shade.

But a dozen steps had not been taken before he stopped short, with his heart beating, and listened eagerly, for a distant shout had fallen upon his ear, coming as he felt sure from behind him, and to the right.

Then there was utter silence for a few seconds, before a second shout arose, to be heard plainly enough, but away to his left.

His heart sank again, and the hope died out. That was no cry uttered by one of his companions, but came from a savage, or some wild beast, which he could not say, but he suspected that it must be from one of the apes of which they had seen specimens that morning.

There it was again, rather a human cry, such as a boy might give vent to in a wood, when calling to his fellows, and a few moments afterwards the sound was repeated.

Whatever animals they were who called, they were answering each other, and certainly coming nearer.

The remembrance of the strange-looking face he had seen peering through the leaves directly after the great nut had struck Wriggs, came back to Oliver as he resumed his arduous journey, now finding the way easier where the bigger trees grew, now more toilsome where there was an opening caused by the fall of some forest monarch, which had rent a passage for the sunshine, with the consequence that a dense mass of lower growth had sprung up.

In these openings, in spite of heat and weariness, the young naturalist forgot all his troubles for a few brief moments in his wonder and delight, till the knowledge that he must push on roused him once more to action. For there before him were in all their beauty the various objects which he had come thousands of miles to seek. Beetles with wing cases as of burnished metal crawled over leaves and clung to stems; grotesque locust-like creatures sprang through the air, through which darted birds which in their full vigour and perfect plumage looked a hundred times more beautiful than the dried specimens to which he was accustomed in museums and private collections. Here from a dry twig darted a kingfisher of dazzling blue, not upon a fish, but upon a beetle, which it bore off in triumph. Away overhead, with a roar like a distant train, sped a couple of rhinoceros hornbills, to be succeeded by a flash of noisy, harsh-shrieking paroquets, all gorgeous in green, yellow, crimson and blue, ready to look wonderingly at the intruder upon their domain, and then begin busily climbing and swinging among the twigs of a bough, whose hidden fruit they hunted out from among the leaves.

One tree close at hand was draped with a creeper of convolvulus-like growth, hanging its trumpet-shaped flowers in every direction, ready for a number of glittering gem-like birds to hover before them, and probe the nectaries for honey or tiny insects, with their long curved bills. So rapid in their movements were some of these, that their insect-like buzzing flight was almost invisible to the watcher, till they hovered before a blossom in the full sunshine, when their burnished, metallic plumage, shot with purple, crimson, and gold, flashed in the sun's rays, and literally dazzled the eye.

Oliver was in the home of the sun-birds, the brilliant little creatures which answer in the old world to the humming-birds of the new, with their crests and gorgets of vivid scales.

"It's grand, it's wonderful," he muttered, with a sigh. "But I must get on."

He forced his way through these openings, with the birds so tame that he could easily have knocked them down with a stick, or caught them with a butterfly-net. But leaving his collecting for a future time, he pressed on, satisfied with the knowledge that he was in the midst of nature's wonders, for the farther he progressed the more was he impressed with the conviction that he and his companions had happened upon a place which exceeded the most vivid paintings of his imagination, so rich did it reveal itself in all they desired.

The progress he made was slower and slower, for he was nearly at the end of his forces, and the matted-together tangle seemed in his weakness to grow more dense. Where there was opening enough overhead he could see that the sun was sinking rapidly, and he knew that it would be dark almost directly it had disappeared.

"It is hopeless," he said to himself; "I shall never get out to-night;" and with the idea forced upon him that he must be on the look-out for a resting-place, or an opening where he could light a fire, and, if possible, at the foot of some tree, in whose branches he could make himself a shelter, he still toiled on.

This proved to be a less difficult task, for before long, as he crept beneath the tangle of a climbing cane-like palm, he saw that it was more light ahead, and in a few minutes he reached one of the natural clearings, close to a huge short-trunked, many-branched fig. There was dead wood in plenty, shelter, and fruit of two kinds close at hand, while, greatest treasure of all, a tiny thread of water trickled among some ancient, mossy fragments of volcanic rock, filling a little basin-like pool with ample for his needs. To this he at once bowed his head and drank with avidity, sublimely unconscious of the fact that a tiny, slight, necklace-like snake was gliding over the moistened rock just overhead, and that a pair of bright gem eyes were watching his every motion from the great fig-tree, where its branches rose in a cluster from the trunk.

"Hah!" sighed Oliver, as he rose from his long deep drink. "What a paradise, but how awfully lonely!"

He noted then that the top of the mountain was in view, but apparently no nearer; and setting to work he soon collected enough wood for a fire, and lit it as a protection, before gathering some of the little figs and some golden yellow fruits from a kind of passion-flower, both proving agreeable to the palate. These supplemented by the food he had in a satchel, formed a respectable meal, which he ended as the last light died out; while before him as he sat by his fire there was a great glowing ball of light high up, one which resolved itself into the cloud, evidently lit up by the glowing lava within the crater.

"A nice companion for a traveller," said Oliver, half aloud. "Now, then, for my cool lofty bedroom in the tree-fork. I wonder whether I shall sleep?"

His inner consciousness said immediately "No;" for as he made his way in among the buttress-like roots of the tree to try and climb up, there came from within a few feet of his face a deep-toned snarling roar.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A FIGHT WITH FATE.

"Aren't had a drop, sir. Swear I aren't," cried Smith.

"Silence man, silence," said Panton, as he sat upon the burnt-up earth, holding his head with both hands, while Wriggs staggered about close at hand, laughing idiotically.

"But I can't, sir," cried Smith, in a whimpering tone. "If I'd been ashore somewhere and met mates, and we'd been standing treat to one another, I wouldn't keer, but I'm sober as a hundred judges, that I am."

"Will you be silent, man? I want to think," said Panton, as he rocked himself to and fro.

"Yes, sir, d'reckly, sir, but don't you go thinking that of a man. I know I can't stand straight, for all the bones has gone out of my legs, and soon as I move I go wobble-wobble like cold glue."

"Yes, yes, I know, I'm unsteady, too," said Panton impatiently.

"But is it fits, sir? And do they take you like that?"

"No, no, my man, I suppose it's the gas."

"Gas, sir," cried Smith, looking round stupidly. "What's it been escaping again? Gammon, sir: they aren't got no gas out here. I say, Billy Wriggs, don't make a hexibition of yourself. Keep quiet, will yer?"

"I can't, mate. It's a rum 'un, it is. What have the guvnors been givin' of us to drink?"

"I d'know, Billy. But do stand still."

"I can't, mate, my legs will keep going and gettin' tangle up like one along o' the other, and knocking themselves together."

"Then lie down afore I hits yer."

"You won't hit me, Tommy," said the man, with a silly laugh.

"Tell yer I shall. You aggravate me so, doing that there."

"Will you two men leave off talking?" cried Panton, angrily. "I can't think. Your words buzz in my brains like a swarm of bees. Ah, I have it now. Where is Mr Lane?"

"Mr Lane, sir?" said Smith, feebly, as he looked round, and then with his eyes staring and blank, he began to feel in his pockets.

"Yes, yes, man. Where is he?"

"I d'know sir. I aren't seen him. Where's Mr Lane, Billy? You got him?"

Wriggs chuckled as if he had been asked the most ridiculously comic question he had ever heard.

"I d'know, matey," he said. "It's o' no use to ask me."

Smith lurched at him with his fists clenched, as if about to strike, but the intention was stronger than the power, and resulted in the sailor blundering up against his mate, and both going down together, and then sitting up and staring at each other in a puzzled way as if they found it impossible to comprehend their position.

At that moment Drew came staggering toward them out of the mist with his gun over his shoulder and his head down as he gazed at the ground, looking as if at any moment he would fall.

"Ah!" cried Panton, excitedly. "I had quite forgotten you, Drew."

"Eh?" said the botanist, stopping short. "Someone call?"

"Yes; I—Panton. Come here."

"He's got it, too, Billy," said Smith. "I say, what's the matter with all on us? Was it that water we drunk?"

"No, I aren't drunk!" cried Wriggs, suddenly dropping his good-tempered idiotic manner. "If you says I'm drunk, Tommy Smith, I shall hit yer. Smell that!"

He placed a big tarry fist close under his messmate's nose, and then, as if amused thereat, he began to laugh again.

"I never said such a word, Billy," said Smith, taking the big fist, opening it out again, and clapping his hand into it loudly before pumping it affectionately up and down. "I said it was the wa—tlat tlat tlat—Oh, I say, matey, I am thirsty."

"Eh?" said Drew, dreamingly, in answer to a question. "Where's Lane? Yes, where's Lane?"

"Ah!" cried Panton, starting up now, and looking wildly round. "Yes, I understand, I think. It was the gas—the volcanic gas in that mist. For heaven's sake rouse yourself, Drew. Lane's in there still, and we must fetch him out. Here, all of you come and help."

He made for the pale, misty curtain before them, but only tottered a few steps, and then fell heavily upon his face with a groan.

"He's deal worse than us is," said Smith, who was now beginning to think more clearly. "Billy, old man, it was that water we drank, and the natives have been pysoning it to kill the fishes, and killed us instead."

"Eh! What!"

"Native savages been trying to pyson the fishes, and pysoned us instead, matey. I said it afore, Billy Wriggs—I says it again, and I'll go on saying on it for a week if that'll do you any good."

"I'm all right, matey. I'm all right, Tommy. But what do the native savages want to pyson the fishes for? Never did the savages any harm."

"Billy Wriggs, you'd better get a noo head, mate, and send this one to be cleaned."

"Ay! You're right, mate, for this here one won't go at all. Feels as if some'un had been sifting sea-sand into the works. But what had the fishes done?"

"Nothing. Pyson 'em to float atop, and ketch 'em to eat. Now come and help sooperior officers as have tumbled down all of a heap."

As he spoke, Smith rose from the ground to which he had fallen, and reeled toward Panton and Drew, slowly, and as if he could only see them dimly at a distance, while Wriggs followed his example, and came on in a zigzag, idiotic way.

Suddenly Smith stood up erect, and uttered a hoarse cry, as he stared wildly at his companions.

"Here!" he yelled. "Help! I know now. Mr Lane. He went in there with us, and he aren't been out. Come on!"

His strength and honest manly feeling had come back with the flash of light which had illumined his brain, and rushing straight for the mist, they saw him begin to grow bigger as if looked at through a magnifying glass, increasing in size till he was monstrous, indistinct and blurred, and then completely disappear.

The man's cry and subsequent action roused them, and all staggered after him with their power of thinking clearly returning, and with it a feeling of horror as they grasped the fact that two of their party were now lost in the strange belt of vapour, whose fumes had so strangely overcome them.

"We must help them," cried Panton wildly. "Come on: follow me."

He started for the mist before them, but before he could reach it, Smith staggered and reeled out, striking against him, and then catching his breath as if he had been held under water, or as a man rises to the surface after being nearly drowned.

"Stop!" he panted, with his eyes seeming to start out of his head. "You can't go. A man can't breathe in there. I'll try again, d'reckly, gentlemen, but—but! oh, the poor, brave, handsome lad! I—I—"

The big, strong, rough fellow's voice became indistinct, and the sobs rose to his throat, nearly choking him in the weakness he vainly strove to hide.

"Come, come," said Panton hoarsely, as he supported the man, Drew trying hard the while to shake off the effects of the vapour and be of some service.

"He liked him, gents," growled Wriggs, an the strange intoxication seemed now to have passed off.

"Yes," cried Smith, hysterically. "Course I did, gentlemen, and I'm going in again to try and fetch the poor lad out. But," he continued feebly, "you can't breathe in there, and it takes hold on yer somehow and sucks the strength out of yer. It's like when poor Joe Noble went down in the hold among the foul air, and it killed him right off at wunst."

"There, hold up," said Panton, firmly now. "I'll go this time."

"Yes, sir, and we'll go together and take hold of hands," cried Smith.

"Ay, all on us," growled Wriggs, "and take hold o' hands and fetch him out afore we've done."

Drew said nothing, but as Wriggs caught hold of Smith's hand, he seized Panton's, and, moved as if by one mind, they stepped quickly forward, feeling at the end of a dozen paces that there was a difference in the air they breathed, which grew thicker as their sight became less clear and their motions more heavy.

But hand clenched hand with more convulsive violence, and in step they kept on till first one and then another reeled and staggered, and it was only by turning suddenly round and stumbling back over their track that they were able to reach the free fresh air before, to a man, they staggered and fell to the ground.

Panton was the first to speak.

"I'd try again," he groaned, "but I have not the strength."

"Ay, and I'd go, sir, but it's as I said!" cried Smith piteously. "Think he can be alive yet?"

"Heaven only knows," sighed Panton, as he tried to sit up, but sank back again, while Drew turned his face toward them and gazed at his companions with a strangely vacant expression that in its helplessness was pitiful to see.

"Tommy!" gasped Wriggs suddenly, as he lay flat on his face, "hit me, will yer, matey—hit me hard. That there feeling's come all over me again, and I don't know what I'm a doing, or what I'm a saying. It's just as if I'd been struck silly and my legs had run away."

"Try—try again, Smith," groaned Panton. "Give me your hand. I think I am stronger now."

"Not you, sir," replied the sailor. "Here, hi! Billy Wriggs, whatcher doing on?"

For the man had slowly raised himself upon his feet again, and was tottering toward the mist.

"I'm a-going, matey, to fetch that there young natooralist out o' yonder if I dies for it: that's what I'm a-going to do."

He spoke in a low muttering growl, and the man's looks and actions as he reeled and groped his way along were those of one stupefied by some strong narcotic.

"But yer can't do it, lad," cried Smith, rising to his knees. "Come back."

"I'm a-going to fetch out that there young natooralist," muttered Wriggs, as he staggered on.

"But I tell yer yer can't," shouted Smith.

"Quick, let's try again," said Panton, struggling to his feet once more, and now with Smith also erect and grasping his hand, they two came on in Wriggs' track, just as Drew rolled over quite insensible.

They did not advance a dozen paces, for Wriggs, who had tottered on strong in his determination to do that which his nature forbade, gave a sudden lurch and fell heavily, head in advance, and the others knew that he must be within the influence of the mephitic vapour.

It was hard work to think this, for, as Smith afterwards said, it was like using your brain through so much solid wood; but in a blind helpless fashion they tottered on, and, bending down, each caught one of the man's ankles, and dragged him back by their weight more than by any mechanical action of their own, each movement being a kind of fall forward and the natural recovery. The result was that step by step Wriggs was dragged from where the vapour was inhaled till Drew was reached, and they sank upon the bare burnt earth again, bewildered, and lacking the power to think, as if the mists had gathered thickly in their brains, and they could do nothing else but lie and wait for the return of strength.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

THE HELP THAT CAME.

Hours passed, during which the little party lay utterly exhausted and overcome, sunk in a deep sleep, which partook more of the nature of a swoon. They were only a few yards away from the mist, and in such a position that, had a breeze arisen to waft it toward them, the probabilities were that they would never have awakened more.

It was Panton who first slowly opened his eyes to look round and gaze wonderingly at his companions, then at the golden mist, whose deeper folds were orange and warm soft red.

For it was evening, and as he turned toward the sinking sun it was some minutes before it occurred to him that it would be tropic night almost directly after, and that his companions should be roused. At the same moment came the recollection of why they were there, but without the strange confusion from which he had before suffered, the long sleep having carried it off.

The others started into wakefulness at a touch, and stood staring at him helplessly.

"Are you ready to try again?" he said in a low voice full of emotion.

"Yes," came spoken simultaneously.

"Then come on, we must find him now."

He took a step or two forward, and the others followed, but a moment later Smith seized him by the arm.

"No, sir," he cried. "It won't do, and I should be no man if I let you go."

"Loose my arm!" cried Panton, angrily. "Recollect, sir, who you are!"

"I do, sir," said the man stoutly; "but you're not my officer, only a passenger; and if our poor old captain was alive, or if Mr Rimmer was here, he'd say I was quite right."

"What do you mean, sir?" cried Panton, whom the exposure to the mephitic gases had left irritable and strange.

"I mean, sir, as it's my dooty to stop you from going to sartain death, and you may say what you like, and call me what you like, but me and my mate, Billy Wriggs, is going to stop you, so there."

"Such insolence!" cried Panton angrily.

"All right, sir. You're going to do as I do, aren't you, Billy?"

"Course I am, Tommy. And you give in, sir. He's got a horful long head has Tommy Smith, and what he says is right; we aren't going to let you go."

"Cowards!" cried Panton angrily.

"That's right, sir, you just go on like that a bit, and call us names. It'll ease your mind ever so. We don't mind, do we, Billy?"

"Not us," growled Wriggs. "He's right, sir. Give it to us."

"Brutes!" cried Panton, as the darkness began to approach with wonderful speed. "Here, Drew, we must go together. We cannot desert our comrade at a time like this."

"No," said Drew, "it would be the act of cowards if we could do anything; but the men are right. You cannot go."

"What? You side with them? Cowards! Yes, worse. How could we ever face his friends unless we had striven to the last?"

"We have striven to the last, man. Look! In a few minutes it will be black night, and to attempt to plunge into that horrible vapour would be madness, weakened and overwrought as we are."

"I thought so," cried Panton. "The poor fellow has but one who will make a fight for him."

"Stop!" cried Drew, clinging to his arm.

"Let go!"

"I say you shall not."

"Let go, or take the consequences," cried Panton furiously, and he raised his gun as if to strike at his companion with the butt.

"Here, Smith, Wriggs, help me, he is half mad. He must not, he shall not go alone!"

"Then come with me, cowards!" cried Panton.

"No, sir, we aren't a coming to see you die," said Smith quickly, as he seized the hand which held the gun. "Now, Billy, ketch hold behind."

The struggle began, but it was a vain one. No one present was gifted with much strength; but it was three to one, and as the darkness fell the four shadowy forms looked dim and strange, writhing here and there, Panton striving hard to free himself from the restraining hands as he made a brave fight, but gradually growing weaker till, all at once, Wriggs, who had retained his position behind during the struggle, suddenly clasped his hands round the poor fellow's waist, and lifted him right from the ground.

"That's got him," he growled. "Now, Tommy, you get hold on his legs, and we'll lie him down."

"Right!" cried Smith, and in this ignoble way Panton would the next minute have been thrown down, had not a shout suddenly come out of the gloom behind them.

The effect was magical.

Smith let go of Panton's legs, and Wriggs unclasped his hands to place them to his mouth and give forth a tremendous yell.

"Ahoy! Ship ahoy!" he cried.

"Ahoy!" came from very near at hand, followed by a couple more distant calls, and another so faint as hardly to be heard.

"Ahoy! Here away!" shouted Smith, and the next minute there were footsteps, and a familiar voice said,—"Where are you?"

"Here!" cried Drew eagerly.

"Thank goodness!" cried Mr Rimmer. "Found you at last. I was afraid something had happened to you, gentlemen. Ahoy!"

His shout, intended to rally his followers, was echoed four times, and as soon as he had replied he turned to the breathless party.

"Hallo, gentlemen, been running?" he cried. "I didn't like to leave you longer for fear anything might have gone wrong, so I came on with half a dozen men. How plaguey dark. Hallo! Where's Mr Lane?"

There was an ominous silence and Mr Rimmer repeated his question.

"Don't say anything has happened to the lad," he cried.

Then Drew spoke and told him all.

"What, and you stand there like that without making another try!" said Mr Rimmer fiercely.

"There! You hear?" cried Panton. "I'll go with you, Mr Rimmer. The poor fellow must be saved."

"By acts, Mr Panton, not by talking," said the mate, sternly. "This way, my lads," he cried, as first one and then another of the Planet's crew hurried to his side. "Here's fresh work for you, I've found some of the party, but young Mr Oliver Lane's missing. Volunteers to find him?"

"All on us, sir," came eagerly.

"That's right," said the mate. "Now, then, which way did he go in?"

"Mr Rimmer, you don't know the danger!" cried Drew.

"No, sir, nor don't want to till after the job. Now, then, point out the nearest spot as far as you can recollect."

"I think I can guide you," said Panton.

"Hold hard, please, sir, just a moment," cried Smith. "You don't know what it is, sir, as you're going to do."

"Silence, sir! who spoke to you?" snapped the mate. "Wait till your advice is asked."

"Tommy Smith's quite right, sir," growled Wriggs.

"Silence, sir."

"Right, sir, but I stands by my mate," growled Wriggs.

"Now, then, Mr Panton, I am waiting. Quick!"

"I cannot let you go into that terrible danger without making another protest," cried Drew. "Mr Rimmer, we have done everything that man could do in the way of trying to save the poor lad's life."

"Possibly, Mr Drew, but I have not done all I mean to do. Now, then, Mr Panton, forward."

The gentleman addressed stepped forward at once, and with the mate and the six men who had accompanied him close behind entered the curtain of mist, invisible now save as increasing the darkness and shutting out the sparkling stars.

"No, no, don't you go, Smith," cried Drew just then, as the sailor made a movement to follow the others.

"But he'll think I'm scared, sir, if I don't go," cried Smith.

"Ay, I am coming, too, Tommy."

"No; it is utter madness," cried Drew. "Stand here both of you, ready to help them when they come out."

"Mean it, sir?" cried Smith.

"Yes, of course, man."

"Hear that, Billy. Well, the mate didn't tell us to come arter him, and they're safe to come back."

"Ay, they air—if they can," said Wriggs gruffly.

"Ah, if they can, mate. That's a true word," cried Smith, "Hi! Look out. They've had enough of it a'ready."

For at that moment one of the sailors ran staggering back through the darkness and fell heavily.

"Help, someone, help!" came in the mate's voice, and by a tremendous effort he too staggered out, half bearing, half supporting Panton, and both falling heavily before they could be supported.

"Hi! All of you this way!" roared Smith, but his words were evidently not heard. However, they were unnecessary, for first two together and then three, the party of sailors tottered out overcome by the fumes, only one of them being sufficiently master of himself to sit down and hold his head; the others fell prone on the dry burnt ground.

"They'll believe us now," said Smith with a dry laugh.

"Man, man, don't talk. Try and help them," cried Drew. "Hah, look here."

"Can't, sir! too dark."

"Feel those men whether they have water-bottles with them; Mr Rimmer here has."

"Right, sir. Here's one."

"Give them water, then," cried Drew, setting the example and pouring some of the cool fluid between the lips of first Panton, and then of the mate. But it was some minutes before it had the slightest effect, and there was a time when it seemed as if a fresh calamity was to be added to their other trouble.

But first one and then another began to mutter incoherently before sinking into a heavy sleep, the mate, who was the most vigorous man present, having the hardest fight of all, and when he did cease babbling as he lay there in the darkness there was a coldness of hand and weakness of pulse that was startling.

Then came a weary time of waiting in the darkness beneath the glittering stars till all at once Smith suggested that he should light a fire.

"We don't want it to warm ourselves, sir," he said, "but it'll make the place more cheery like and keep off the wild beasties if there are any about."

"Where are you going to get your wood from, matey?" growled Wriggs.

"Ah, I never thought o' that, mate. There aren't none about here, that's certain."

"And you don't want none," cried Wriggs, for suddenly the mist was lit up by a bright glare of light and above it the globular-looking cloud became illuminated as if from some burst of light below. "That's good enough to see by, aren't it?"

Drew rose to his feet to stand gazing wildly at the bright illumination which showed plainly enough the overcome men lying in uneasy attitudes as they had fallen.

The two sailors sprang to their feet, for there was a quivering motion of the earth, whose surface heaved as does a cloth held at the corners and shaken. The next moment there was a tearing, splitting sound running apparently toward them, and by the reflected light, there, plainly enough, a rift could be seen opening slowly, more and more widely, and evidently going straight for where Panton lay.

"Earthquake!" shouted Drew. "Quick! help!!" But the two men stood shivering and helpless as if unable to stir, and the fate now of the young geologist and the mate seemed to be sealed.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

BILLY WRIGGS' BACCY-BOX.

It was dull, heavy, slow-going Billy Wriggs who saved their lives. One moment he stood scratching his head, the next he had made a rush like a bull, thrown himself down on his side, and somehow managing to get a good grip of the mate's waistband, had swung him over towards Smith.

"Run him farder away," cried Wriggs, and he shuffled himself then to Panton just as the rift opened widely.

There was a quick rustling sound, and a dull thud as Panton was gripped hard—flesh as well as clothes, and swung over the sailor into comparative safety.

But it was at the man's own expense, for he began to glide downward in a slow, gradual way, first his legs, then his body, till only his chest was visible as he dug his fingers into the ground and tried to hold on.

At such a time it might have been expected that the man would shriek out in agony and despair, slowly subsiding as he was into a rift which promised a death so horrible, that those who looked on were paralysed for the moment beyond affording help; but Billy Wriggs' words did not indicate suffering or terror, only a good-hearted friendly remembrance of his messmate, for he shouted out as if by way of farewell,—

"Tommy, old mate, I leave yer my brass baccy-box."

The words galvanised Smith into action. He had seized and dragged Panton away in time, but as he saw his companion sinking into the crack which grew slowly longer and wider, he stood with his eyes staring and jaw dropped till the words "baccy-box" reached his ears. Then he made a rush to where Wriggs' head and shoulders only remained above ground, stooped quickly, and seized him by his thin garment, and held on, checking further descent and gazing wildly at his messmate, whose rugged features upturned to the red glow of light appeared to be singularly calm and placid.

"Steady, mate," he said mildly. "Don't tear my shirt."

"Won't I!" cried Smith, savagely. "Where's that theer box?"

"Breeches' pocket, mate."

"That's you all over," snarled Smith, as his hands got a better grip, first one and then the other, and his voice sounded like an angry growl between his set teeth. "Promise—a chap—a box—and then—going to take it with yer. Yer would, would yer? But yer just won't."

"Let me take my skin, then," cried Wriggs. "Don't tear it all off," as he winced beneath the savage grip which checked his descent.

"Nay I weant, mate," growled Smith. "I wants it, too, and hold tight, Billy, the deck's giving way. Heave ho!"

Smith threw himself backward as he made a tremendous heave, and none too soon, for a great patch of the earth at the side gave way where he stood. But he had thrown all a strong man's force into one mighty effort, and as Drew stood trembling and helpless, he saw the two men clasped in each other's arms, rolling over and over into safety, just as a horrible fume rose from the rift which now ran on in a zigzag split, like a flash of lightning in shape, and as rapid. Then followed a sharp report as of subterranean thunder and the earth closed again.

"Would yer bite—would yer bite!" grumbled Wriggs, as he stared at the earth.

"Well, of all the onsartain dangerous places as ever I was in," said Smith, in a low growl, "this here's about the worst."

"Ay, 'tis mate," said Wriggs. "Sea's safest arter all. I say, though," he continued as he softly rubbed himself about the ribs, "might ha' took hold of a fellow a bit easier, Tommy. You've made me feel all loose."

"Sarve yer right, chucking yerself down like that. Why, if it hadn't been for me, you'd ha' been nipped fast there. Now, then, where's that there 'bacco-box? Hand over."

"Nay, I said I'd leave it to yer, mate. I was making o' my will. Going to use it a bit longer, mate, but I'll give yer a quid."

"What an escape, my lads," panted Drew, who now came up and shook hands with them both warmly.

"Well, it weer pretty close, sir," said Wriggs, as he went on gently rubbing his sides. "But I'm beginning to think as Tommy Smith had better ha' left me alone. His fingers is as hard as a brass statoo's. But there, mate, I forgives yer. How's the gents, sir?"

Drew shook his head, and after the mate and Panton had been carried some little distance from where the earth had split open and re-closed, the party seated themselves in a despondent state to watch the golden cloud which hung high in air, like a huge ball of liquid fire, and lit up the place while they waited for morn.

Panton and Mr Rimmer both seemed to be sleeping heavily, and one of the sailors remained similarly affected, but their state did not appear now to be so alarming after the past experience, and Drew contented himself with satisfying himself from time to time that they were breathing comfortably, while he waited and thought sadly about their young companion.

"If I could only feel satisfied that we had done everything possible to save him," he said to himself, for his conscience reproached him for idling there when he might have perhaps schemed some way of dragging him out from the mist.

Just about the time when his spirits were at the lowest ebb he became conscious of the fact that the two sailors, Smith and Wriggs, were engaged in an argument with one of the rescue party, and he listened to what was said.

"Look-ye here," growled Smith, "what's the good o' you talking that way? You see how it was; yer couldn't hardly breathe, and what yer could breathe warn't fresh hair, but a rum sort o' stuff as comes out o' the earth and knocks yer over 'fore you knows where you are. I never felt nowt like it, did you, Billy?"

"No; and never wants to smell it again. Yer didn't feel it, yer smelt it, lads, and then you was nowheres. Say, Tommy."

"What is it?"

"Wonder what it's like down below, inside like. You hauled me out 'fore I'd half a chance to find out."

"Why didn't yer say yer wanted to see? Then I'd ha' let yer go."

"Nay, you wouldn't, Tommy," said Wriggs, with a chuckle. "Be too warm, wouldn't it?"

"But what I was saying, mates, was as I don't think we tried hard enough to find Mr Lane. We ought to have done something."

"Ay; but how are you going to do it?" said Wriggs, shortly, just as the man's words had gone like a pang through Drew's breast, making him feel that even the men were judging him adversely. "That's the worst o' you clever ones: you says, says you, 'We ought to do some'at,' but you don't say what."

"That's a true word, Billy Wriggs," cried Smith, clapping his messmate on the shoulder, "they don't say what. Why, 'fore you chaps come, Mr Panton and Mr Drew—"

"And Tommy Smith," growled Wriggs.

"Well, I did try a bit, mate, and so did you, till we couldn't do no more. I don't believe a hangel could ha' done more than Billy did."

"Oh, I say, mate," grumbled Wriggs, modestly.

"I says it again, 'could ha' done more than Billy did.' But it's like this here, mates, the onpossible's just a bit too hard for a man to do, and whether he likes it or whether he don't, he's got to put up with it, and that's what clever people calls flossify."

"And quite rightly, my man," said Drew, coming close up. "Smith and Wriggs behaved like brave, true men, my lads."

"Easy, sir, please. We only tried same as you did."

"You think, then, that we tried everything that was possible to save my friend?"

"Think, sir? Why, Billy and me's sure on it, eh, Billy?"

"Sartain."

"Hah!" ejaculated Drew, "you have done me good, my lads, for my heart felt very sore and my conscience reproached me cruelly for not doing more."

"It's all right, sir," cried Smith, cheerily. "You wait till the morning comes, and then we shall see a way o' sarcumventing this gas, as you calls it, and I daresay we shall find Mr Lane somewhere all right on t'other side."

"If I could only feel that, I could rest till morning," said Drew.

"Then just you feel it, sir," said Smith. "It's what I feels strong."

"So do I, sir, now," put in Wriggs. "If Tommy Smith mays so, it's all right."

Drew tried to think that it was, but the pleasant, hopeful sensation would not come, and he sat now with the men, now beside the mate and his friend Panton, waiting for the morning, the first hints of its approach being in the gradual paling of the golden light from the cloud over the volcano, and the appearance of the softer, more natural glow, that came in the east, bringing with it a more diffused light, and the hope that rides in with the dazzling rays of a new day.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

CHEAP LODGINGS AND CATS.

Oliver Lane's double gun gave forth two sharp clicks as his thumb pressed back the cocks, and then, raising it to his shoulder, he waited, with his eyes searching among the thick leaves of the fig-tree, and trying to penetrate the orchids which clustered where the trunk forked and sent forth a dozen or so of minor boughs.

But the snarling sound had ceased, and there was not the slightest rustle among the leaves to indicate the spot where the animal was hidden. But in imagination he could see some big, lithe, cat-like creature crouching there in the tree-fork, ready to spring, its head looking flattened with the ears drawn down, teeth gleaming in a fierce snarl, eyes flashing with green phosphorescent-like light, and sharp claws alternately protruded and withdrawn.

All this was pictured by his active brain, but there was nothing visible save a gleam here and there, where the light from a fire-fly shone faintly from some leaf.

A minute passed, all eager watchfulness, and at the slightest rustle indicating action on the part of the animal Lane would have drawn trigger. But all remained still, and the young man asked himself what he had better do.

There were other trees about, but not one which offered such a satisfactory lodging, so easy to reach.

"One oughtn't to mind a cat on the premises," he laughingly said to himself at last. "It would keep away nuisances, but this is too much of a cat, and wants to have all the bed to itself."

He hesitated about firing into the tree to scare the beast, partly from the idea that it might irritate it into springing and taking him at a disadvantage, for as he stood there the light was behind him, so that he must be plain to his invisible enemy; then, in the smoke, he would be unable to make out his foe, and there would be no chance or time to take aim with the second barrel, and he knew what the result would be—the brute seizing him with teeth and claws, holding on fast while it tore him with its hind legs, as a cat does a rat.

"A miserable end at the beginning of one's life," thought Lane. "Discretion's the better part of valour," he muttered. "I'll go back and find another tree."

He stood for a few minutes longer, in the utter silence, listening for some movement from his enemy, but there was none. Then he began to hope that it had stolen away, and he moved slightly—drawing back to go in search of fresh lodgings. But at the first step there was a savage growl, such as might have been uttered by a magnified cat, and his fingers moved to press the trigger, as he stood firm, with the butt of the piece pressed to his shoulder, and his cheek against the stock.

The snarling ceased and all was dead silence again, while, oddly enough, the old story of the Irish soldier came to Lane's mind:

"Please, sor, I've caught a Tartar prisoner."

"Bring him along, then."

"Please, sor, he won't come."

"Then come without him."

"Please, sor, he won't let me."

For, in spite of his excitement and its accompanying alarm, Lane could not help smiling at his predicament. He knew that if he beat a retreat the beast would spring at him, and taking into consideration the fact that he would be better off if he took the offensive and advanced, he at once acted upon the latter course.

Taking a step forward, there was another savage snarl, and he aimed, as nearly as he could guess, at the spot whence it came, and waited, but the animal did not spring.

He moved forward again and there was another snarl—a pause—a slight movement—another snarl and a scratching noise, which meant the tearing at the bark of the trunk upon which the animal crouched.

"I must fire," thought Lane, and bending forward again, the snarling was resumed and he drew trigger.

Almost simultaneously with the shot there was a fierce yell, and the young man received a tremendous blow in the chest, which knocked him backwards right amongst the thick growth; then came a loud rustling, the sound of the animal dashing through the tangle of undergrowth, and then all was still.

"Killed, or escaped wounded?" muttered: Lane, as he gathered himself up, and stood with his gun ready to deliver the contents of the second barrel. But at the end of ten minutes or so there was no sound to break the silence, save a peculiar rending, tearing noise at a distance, followed by a rumbling boom, as of thunder under ground, and a sensation as of the earth quivering beneath his feet.

This passed away, and feeling safe for the moment, Lane opened the breech of his piece, threw away the empty cartridge, and replaced it with one containing heavy shot before stepping up to the tree, and climbing up the trunk easily enough by the help of the cable-like parasite which enlaced its great buttresses.

He had not far to mount, for the main trunk ended about twelve feet from the ground, and after a little feeling about amongst the dense orchid growth, he soon found a position where he could sit astride, and support his back in a comfortable half-reclining posture, perfectly safe from all risk of falling, so that there was every prospect of a good night's rest.

"I hope they will not fidget about me very much," he said to himself, as he thought of his companions. Then, utterly tired out, and with his perceptions somewhat blunted by fatigue, he gave his friends the credit of thinking that he would be able to take care of himself, and leaned back.

"Jolly," he muttered. "Cheap, comfortable lodgings if it don't rain, and the leopard, or whatever it was, does not come back to turn out this trespasser. Hah! how restful and nice. Can't fall: but I'm not going to cuddle this gun all night."

He began to feel about for a place where he could lay the gun down safely, and at the end of a minute his hand touched something warm and furry, which began to stir about and utter a whining, mewing noise.

He snatched away his hand in dread, then extended it again to begin feeling his discovery.

"Pups!" he exclaimed. "Kittens I mean! Two of them; fine fat ones, too. They're harmless enough if their mother does not come back," and going on patting and feeling the little animals, he fully realised now the reason for their mother's ferocity, though he felt that it might have been their father.

"No," he said, half aloud, "it must have been the mother, for she would make her nursery somewhere in hiding, for fear that papa should want to play Saturn, and eat his children up."

The cubs whined softly a little, and nestled their soft heads against his hand. Then they sank down in the nest-like hollow of a decayed limb of the tree and went to sleep, while Oliver Lane found a tough vine-like stem behind which he was able to tuck his piece safely. And a few moments after, regardless of volcanoes, earthquakes, tidal waves, foul gases, and ferocious beasts, the young naturalist went off fast asleep, and did not stir till he heard, mingled with his dreams, the shrill shrieking of a flock of paroquets, which were climbing about among the smaller branches of the tree high overhead, and feasting upon the fast ripening figs.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

PLUTONIC ACTION.

It took Oliver Lane some time to pass from a sound sleep gradually through half-waking dreams to the full knowledge of his position, and then, albeit somewhat cramped and stiff, feeling rested and bright, he lay back listening to the calls and answers of the birds, and watching them with a true naturalist's intense delight. For there he was in the very position he had longed to reach, right amongst nature's gems in their own abode, full of life and vigour. He had seen these birds before, but as attractively-plumaged dry specimens. Here they were hanging, crawling, and climbing about, busy, with every feather in motion, their eyes bright, and beaks and claws all abloom with colour. Now their feathers were tightly pressed to their softly-curved bodies, now standing almost on end, giving the birds a round, plump aspect that was delightful when the sun gleamed through, and flashed from the golden green, bright scarlet, or vivid blue, with which they had been painted by nature's loving hand. Others were entirely of a beautiful green, all save their heads, which glowed with a peach bloom, while, again, others bore the same leafy uniform, and, for decoration, a dark collar, and long, pencil-like-produced feathers in their tails.

There was the gun close at hand. Lane had but to take it from beneath the creeper which held it fast; but, at this time, it never occurred to him that he might secure two or three splendid specimens for the collection he sought to make, so occupied was he by the action of the flock in the tree.