"Well, upon my word," cried Oliver, indignantly. "Here have you two chaps kept me all this time spinning a miserable yarn about a bird that I began to hope was a fine specimen worth having, and then you bring out this!"

"Yes, sir, won't it do?" said Smith, winking at Wriggs once more.

"There, be off with you, and take the rubbishing thing away," cried Oliver, wrathfully. "All your cock and bull story about that."

"Yes, sir," cried Smith, with a peculiar chuckle and a wink at Wriggs; "but that there warn't the one."

As he spoke, Smith very carefully and slowly brought his hand round again, holding a bird in the most perfect plumage suspended by a thin ring of brass wire, which had been thrust through the nostrils, and Oliver uttered a cry of joy.

"Ahoy, Drew! Panton! come here, quick!"

"What's up?" came from the deck, and as there was the hurried sound of feet, the two sailors nodded and winked and gave each his leg a slap.

"What is it?" cried Panton, eagerly, as he ran to where his brother naturalist stood gloating over his treasure.

"A gem! A gem!" cried Oliver.

"Then, that's in my way, not yours," said Panton. "My word, what a beauty! That's quite fresh."

"To me, but I know what it is. The Golden Paradise bird. Isn't it exquisite? Look at its colours and the crest."

"That's what took my attention first of all," said Drew, who had now joined them, and they all three gloated over the wonderful specimen which glowed with intense colours. There were no long loose flowing buff plume; for the bird was short and compact, its principal decoration being six oval feathers at the end of as many thin wire-like pens, three growing crest-like out of each side of its head. The whole of its throat and breast were covered with broad scale-like feathers of brilliant metallic golden hue, looking in the sunshine like the dazzling throat of a humming bird vastly magnified; while, seen in different lights, these golden scales changed in hue like the plumes of a peacock, becoming purple or green. A pure satiny white patch glistened conspicuously on the front of the head, before the place whence the six cresting feathers sprang. This covering stood out the more strongly from the fact that at first sight the bird appeared to be of a dense black, but at the slightest movement it glowed with bronze metallic blue, and an indescribable tint, such as is sometimes seen in freshly-broken sulphur and iron ore.

For some moments no one spoke, and with tender touches Oliver turned his bird here and there, so that the sun should play upon its glistening plumage at different angles. Now he was carefully raising some feather which was slightly out of place, now raising the six crest feathers through his hand, and bending over it as if it were the most glorious object he had ever seen.

"Seems a sin to attempt to skin it," said Oliver at last. "I shall never get those feathers to look so smooth again."

"Oh, yes, you will. Go on," said Panton, "and get it done. The weather soon makes a change."

"Yes, I must carefully preserve this," cried Oliver; and Drew sighed.

"I've worked pretty hard," he said, "but I have found nothing to compare with that in rarity or beauty."

"Then you think it'll do, sir?" said Smith, with his face shining with pleasure.

"Do, my man! I can never be grateful enough to you both for finding it."

"Worth long rigmarole, eh, sir?" said Wriggs with a chuckle.

"It's worth anything to a naturalist, my man."

"What is?" said Mr Rimmer, coming up; and the bird was held up for his inspection.

"Another kind of bird of Paradise?" he said.

"Yes, isn't it lovely?"

"Very, gentlemen, but I want to talk to you about launching our lugger, she's getting well on toward being ready."

"Ready?" said Oliver. "Oh yes, of course. But don't hurry, Mr Rimmer, we shan't be ready to go for some time yet."

"Mean it?" said Rimmer, smiling.

"Mean it!" cried Oliver, looking up from his bird. "Why, you don't suppose we can go away from a place where such specimens as this are to be had. I can't."

"No," said Panton, quietly, "since I got better I have been finding such a grand series of minerals that I must stay if I possibly can. What do you say, Drew?"

"It would be madness to hurry away."

"And what about the niggers?" said Mr Rimmer, who looked amused.

"They haven't worried us lately."

"But the volcano? Really, gentlemen, I never feel safe from one day to another. I am always expecting to see the earth open and swallow us up."

"Yes, we are in a doubtful position," said Panton, thoughtfully, "and never know what may happen, living as we are, over fire."

"And hot water," said the mate, smiling. "One of the men has just found a little spring, where the water spurts up at boiling point."

"Well," said Panton, "it will be convenient. There, Mr Rimmer, get your lugger launched, and we'll explore the coast, but don't say anything about our going away for months to come, for we must make some more efforts to get right up to the crater edge before we give up. Besides, we have not half examined the land yet."

"No," said the mate, "we have not half examined the land yet. Very well, gentlemen, you came on purpose for this sort of thing, so it's not for me to say any more. I'm anchored pretty safely, that is, if the earth don't give way, and let the brig through. I'll, as I've said before, get my lugger finished and launched. She'll lie snugly enough in the deepest part of the lagoon if the blacks will keep away, and I shall gradually load and provision her, ready for when we have to go will that do?"

"Yes, splendidly," said Oliver. "There, don't say any wore about it, please, for I want to skin my bird."



CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

PANTON SHOWS THE WAY TO WONDERLAND.

"You were so precious proud of your ornitho superbo, or whatever you call it, that you seemed to fancy yourself head cock discoverer and chief boss of the expedition," cried Panton one morning, as he returned in a great hurry, after being out for some hours with Smith and Wriggs.

Oliver, who, helped by Drew, was busily packing layers of dried bird skins in a case, looked up laughingly.

"What is it?" he cried. "What have you found—diamonds?"

"Oh, no, nothing of that kind. Come on and see."

"In five minutes I shall be done. Then we'll come. But what is it?"

"Wait till you get there," responded Panton, wincing slightly, for he had just felt a sting in his newly-healed wound.

"All right," said Oliver. "Now, Drew, another layer of paper, then this lot of skins, and we'll fasten the lid down."

"Why not leave it unfastened till your other lot are dry?"

"Because if I do, the ants will make short work of them. In with the rest, lightly. Now the lid."

This was clapped on, a good solid deal lid made by the ship's carpenter, with holes bored and screws in them, all ready, and as soon as it was on, Oliver, with his sleeves rolled up and the muscles working beneath his clear white skin, attacked the screws, and soon had them all tightly in their places. Then a rope was made fast, the word given to those on deck, and the chest was run up in no time.

Five minutes later Oliver was equipped in light flannel jacket and sun helmet, his gun over his shoulder and all ready fur action.

"Going for a stroll?" said Mr Rimmer, as they stepped down from the deck to where he was superintending the planking of the lugger, whose framework had been slid down on a kind of cradle, where it now stood parallel with the brig, it having been found advisable to get her down from the deck for several reasons, notably her rapidly increasing weight and her being so much in the way.

"But suppose the enemy comes and finds her alongside? They might burn her."

"They'd burn or bake us if we kept her up here," said the mate, shortly, "for we should not have room to move."

So there it was, down alongside, rapidly approaching completion, the men having toiled away with a will, feeling how necessary it was to have a way open for escape, and working so well that most of them soon began to grow into respectable shipyard labourers, one or two, under the guidance of the ship's carpenter, promising to develop soon into builders.

The mate was very busy with a caulking hammer in one hand, a wedge in the other, driving tar-soaked oakum between the planks so as to make a water-tight seam, and as the young men came up he wiped his steamy brow with his arm, and looked at all with good-humoured satisfaction.

"Yes, we're going to inspect a discovery I have made," said Panton, importantly. "Like to join us?"

"Well, I should like," replied the mate, "and I think I—no: resolution for ever. Not a step will I take till I've got the Little Planet finished. She's rough, but I believe she'll go."

"When you get her to the sea."

"Ye-es," said Mr Rimmer, with a comically perplexed look in his bluff English countenance, "when we get her to the sea. You don't think she'll stick fast, do you, Mr Lane?"

"Well, I hope not," said Oliver, "but when I get thinking about how big you are making her, I can't help having doubts."

"Doubts?" said the mate, sadly, as if he had plenty of his own.

"Yes—no," cried Oliver, "I will not have any. We will get her down to the sea somehow. Englishmen have done bigger things than that."

"And will again, eh, sir?" cried the mate. "Come, that's encouraging. You've done me no end of good, sir, that you have. There, off with you, and get back to dinner in good time. Crowned pigeon for dinner, and fish."

He attacked the side of the lugger with redoubled energy, his strokes following the party for far enough as they trudged on due south to an opening in the forest not yet visited by either Drew or Lane, and the latter, as he saw the abundance of tempting specimens, exclaimed,—

"I say, what have we been about not to visit this spot before?"

"Had too many other good spots to visit, I suppose," said Drew; "but, my word! look at the orchids here."

"Bah! That's nothing to what you will see, eh, Smith?"

"Yes, sir, they'll stare a bit when they gets farder on. Me and Billy's been thinking as we should like to retire from business and build ourselves houses there to live in, speshly Billy."

"Speak the truth, mate, you was the worst," grumbled Wriggs.

"You was just as bad about it, Billy. Didn't you say as it would be grand to have a house to live in, with b'iling water laid on at your front door?"

"Nay, that I didn't, Tommy. How could I when there warn't no front door and no house built?"

"You are so partickler to a word, mate. It was something of that kind."

"Nay, Tommy."

"Why, it was, and you says you'd want a missus, on'y you didn't know as how a white missus'd care to come and live out in a place where there warn't no pumps, and you couldn't abide to have one as was black."

"Well!" exclaimed Wriggs indignantly, "of all the 'orrid yarns! Why, it were him, gents, as said all that. Now, speak the truth, Tommy, warn't it you?"

"Now you comes to talk about it that way, Billy, I begin to think as it were; but it don't matter, let's say it was both on us."

"How much farther is it to the wonder?" asked Oliver.

"About a mile," replied Panton. "There, curb your impetuosity and don't be jealous when you get there."

"Jealous! Rubbish! Look, Drew!" cried Oliver, as a huge moth as big across the wings as a dinner plate flapped gently along the shadowy way beneath the trees, now nearly invisible, now plainly seen threading its way through patches which looked like showers of silver rain. "Who can be jealous of another's luck when he is overwhelmed with luck of his own?"

"Hi! Stop! None of that!" cried Panton, catching Oliver by the arm, as he snatched off his sun helmet and was dashing forward through the forest.

"What's the matter?"

"That's what I want to know. Are you mad to go dashing off, hat in hand, after a butterfly here in this dangerous place, as if you were a boy out on a Surrey Common?"

"Bother! It isn't a butterfly."

"What is it, then?"

"The grandest Atlas moth I ever saw."

"I don't care, you're not going to make yourself raging hot running after that. I want you to come and see my find."

Oliver stood looking after the shadowy moth as it went on in and out among the trunks of the trees till it reached a tunnel-like opening, full of sunshine. Up this, after pausing for a moment or two, balanced upon its level outstretched wings, it seemed to float on a current of air and was gone.

"You've made me miss a glorious prize," said Oliver sadly.

"Not I. You couldn't have caught it, my boy. Come along."

Oliver resigned himself to his fate, but gazed longingly at several birds dimly seen on high among the leaves, and whose presence would have passed unnoticed if it had not been for their piping cries or screams. But he soon after took a boyish mischievous satisfaction in joining Panton in checking Drew every time he made a point at some botanical treasure.

"No, no," cried Oliver, "if there is to be no animal, I say no vegetable."

"Because it's all mineral. There, be patient," said Panton. "We haven't much farther to go, eh, Smith?"

"No, sir, on'y a little bit now. Either o' you gents think o' bringing a bit o' candle or a lantern?"

"Candle?" cried Panton in dismay. "No."

"What, didn't yer think o' that rubub and magneshy stuff, sir?"

"The magnesium wire? Yes, I brought that."

"Well, that's something, sir, but we do want candles."

"And we must have some. Here, Smith, you must go back," cried Panton.

"Right, sir, on'y shouldn't I be useful to you when we gets there?"

"Of course, very: but we can't do without a light."

"No, sir, that we can't. How many shall you want?"

"Ask for half-a-dozen," said Panton, "and be as smart as you can."

"Half-a-dozen, sir," said Smith, "that all?"

"Yes, be off!"

"But Billy Wriggs's got more'n that tucked inside his jersey, if they ain't melted away. Air they, Billy?"

"No," said that gentleman, thrusting his hand inside his blue knitted garment. "The wicks is all right, and they're gettin' a bit soft, but there's nothing else amiss."

"Well done, Smith," cried Oliver, who by this time pretty well knew his man. "You thought we should want some, then?"

"Course I did, sir. We ain't got cat's eyes, and we can't see like them speckydillo chaps as we hear going about in the woods o' nights. So I thought we'd bring some dips, and if we didn't want 'em we could only bring 'em back again."

By this time they were ascending a rugged slope, and painfully climbing in and out among huge rocks, whose structure told of their being portions of some lava eruption. Water trickled here and there, overhung by mosses of loose habit and of a dazzling green. Tree ferns arched over the way with their lace-work fronds, and here and there clumps of trees towered up, showing that it must have been many generations since fire had devastated this part of the island, and the huge masses of lava had been formed in a long, river-like mass, to be afterwards broken up and piled by some convulsion in the fragments amongst which they clambered.

"Wonderful! Wonderful!" cried Oliver.

"Grand!" exclaimed Drew. "Look at the Nepenthes," and he pointed to the curiously metamorphosed leaves of the climbers around, each forming a pitcher half full of water.

"I want to know how you discovered it," said Oliver.

"Oh, you must ask these fellows," replied Panton.

"It were Billy Wriggs, sir, goin' after a bird I'd shot in that robuschus way of his'n, and when I follered him and see what a place it were I was obliged to come on."

"Why, we must be getting up toward an old crater," cried Oliver. "There has been a volcanic eruption here."

"Then just be a bit patient," said Panton, laughing. "Only up as high as that ridge," he continued, panting, "and then we're close at hand."

It was hot and toilsome work, but the party were in so lovely a natural garden that the toil was forgotten. For the trees of great growth were farther apart up here, leaving room for the sunshine to penetrate, with the result that the undergrowth was glorious, and the rocky dells and precipices magnificent.

"Straight away. Up to the top here," cried Panton. "Come along."

He was foremost, and had reached a tremendous piled-up wall of masses of mossy stone, whose crevices formed a gorgeous rockery of flowers and greenery, wonderful to behold, almost perpendicular, but so full of inequalities that offered such excellent foot and hand hold that there was very little difficulty in the ascent. He began at once seizing creeper and root, and was about half way up, when there was a snarling yell, and a great cat-like creature sprang out of a dark crevice, bounded upward and was gone, while Panton, startled into loosening his hold as the brute brushed by him, came scrambling and falling down, till he was checked by his friends.

"Hurt?" cried Oliver, excitedly.

"Hurt!" was the reply, in an angry tone, "just see if you can come down twenty or thirty feet without hurting yourself."

"But no bones broken?" said Drew.

"How should I know? Oh, hang it, how I've hurt my poor shoulder again."

Irritation, more than injury, was evidently the result of the fall, for as he knelt down to bathe a cut upon one of his hands, Panton exclaimed,—

"One of you might have shot the brute. Only let me catch a glimpse of him again."

"There wasn't time," said Oliver. "But don't you think we had better give up the excursion for to-day?"

"No, I don't," cried Panton. "Think I've taken all this trouble for nothing," and, rising to his feet again, he took his gun from where he had stood it, and began to climb once more in and out among the pendent vines and creepers till he was at the top, and the others followed, but did not reach his side without being bitten and stung over and over again by the ants and winged insects which swarmed.

"There, what do you say to that?" cried Panton, forgetting his injuries and pointing downward.

His companions were too much entranced to speak, but stood there gazing at as lovely a scene as ever met the eyes of man.

For there below them, in a cup-like depression, lay a nearly circular lake of the purest and stillest water, in whose mirror-like surface were reflected the rocky sides, verdant with beautiful growth, the towering trees and spire-like needles which ran up for hundreds of feet, here and there crumbled into every imaginable form, but clothed by nature with wondrous growth wherever plant could find room to root in the slowly decaying rock.

"Glorious, glorious!" exclaimed Drew, in a subdued voice, as if tones ought to be hushed in that lovely scene, for fear they should all awaken and find it had been some dream.

Panton gazed from one to the other, forgetful of his fall, and with a look of triumph in his smiling eyes, while Oliver let himself sink down upon the nearest stone, rested his chin upon his hand, and gazed at the scene as if he could never drink his fill.

As for the two sailors, they exchanged a solemn wink and then stood waiting with a calm look of satisfaction as much as to say: "We did all this; you'd never have known of it if it had not been for us."

"Come, lads," cried Panton at last, "we must be getting on. You see now how it is there is so much clear water trickling down below. What a magnificent reservoir!"

"It seems almost too beautiful," sighed Oliver, rising unwillingly. "Who could expect a place like this with a burning mountain only a few miles to the north?"

"And think," added Panton, "that this is the crater of an old volcano that once belched out these stones and poured fire and fluid lava down the slope we have just climbed."

"It almost seems impossible," said Drew. "The place is so luxuriantly fertile. Are you sure you are right?"

"Sure," said Panton, "as that we stand here. Look for yourselves at the perfectly formed crater filled with water now as it was once filled with seething molten matter. Look yonder, straight across there where the wall is broken down as it was perhaps thousands of years ago by the weight of the boiling rock which flowed out. Look, you can see for yourselves, even at this distance, the head of the river of stone. Chip any of these blocks, and you have lava and tufa. That block you sat on is a weather-worn mass of silvery pumice inside, I'm sure, though outside it is all black and crumbling where it is not covered with moss."

"But for such luxuriance of growth here all must have been barren stone."

"Barren till it disintegrated in the course of time, and, by the action of the sun, rain, and air, became transformed into the most fertile of soil. Why, Lane, you ought to know these things. Look there, how every root is at work breaking up the rock to which it clings, and in whose crevices the plants and trees take root, grow to maturity, die, and add their decaying matter to the soil, which is ever growing deeper and more rich."

"Hear, hear," growled Wriggs in a low tone, and Panton frowned, but smiled directly after as he saw the sailor's intent looks.

"Well, do you understand, Wriggs?" he cried.

"Not quite exactly, sir," said the man. "Some on it, sir; and it makes me and my mate feel that it's grand like to know as much as you gents do."

"Ay, ay," cried Smith, taking off his hat and waving it about as he spoke. "Billy Wriggs is right, sir. It is grand to find you gents with all your bags o' tricks ready for everything: Mr Drew with his piles o' blottin'-paper to suck all the joost outer the leaves and flowers, and Mr Lane here, with his stuff as keeps the skins looking as good as if they were alive, and, last o' hall, you with your hammer—ay, that's it!—and your myklescrope and bottle o' stuff as you puts on a bit o' stone to make it fizzle and tell yer what kind it is. It's fine, sir, it's fine, and it makes us two think what a couple o' stoopid, common sailors we are, don't it, Billy?"

"Ay, Tommy, it do, but yer see we had to go as boys afore the mast, and never had no chances o' turning out scholards."

"But you turned out a couple of first class sailors," said Oliver warmly, "and as good and faithful helpmates as travellers could wish to have at their backs. We couldn't have succeeded without you."

"So long, sir, as their legs don't want to run away with 'em, eh, messmate?" said Smith with a comical look at Wriggs.

"Ay, they was a bit weak and wankle that day," said Wriggs, chuckling.

"Never mind about that, my lads," cried Panton, who had been busy breaking off a bit of the stone on which Oliver had sat—a very dark time-stained blackish-brown, almost covered with some form of growth, but the fresh fracture was soft glittering, and of a silvery grey, as pure and clear as when it was thrown out of the crater as so much vesicular cindery scum.

"Yes," said Drew, examining the fragment. "You are right. Well, I say thank you for bringing us up to see this glorious place."

"And I too, as heartily," said Oliver. "We must come up here regularly for the next month at least; why, there are specimens enough here to satisfy us all."

"Quite," said Drew, "and I propose we begin collecting to-day."

"And I second you," said Lane.

"And I form the opposition," cried Panton. "Do you suppose I made all that fuss to bring you only to see this old crater?"

"Isn't it enough?" said Oliver.

"No," cried Panton excitedly. "This is nothing to the wonders I have to show. Now, then, this way. Come on."



CHAPTER FORTY.

A GRIM JOURNEY.

Panton plunged at once down the slope as if to go diagonally to the water's edge, and his companions followed him in and out and over the blocks, which were a feast for Drew, while at every few steps some strange bird, insect, or quadruped offered itself as a tempting prize to Oliver, but no one paused. The gathering in of these prizes was left till some future time.

It was as the others supposed, Panton was descending to the water's edge, reaching it just where the crater rose up more steeply and chaotically rugged than in the other parts.

"Look out!" he cried, loudly, and, raising his piece, he fired at the great leopard-like creature which had evidently taken refuge here, and now bounded out with a fierce growl, and away along the rocks by the edge of the lake.

The bullet sent after it evidently grazed the animal, for it sprang into the air and fell with a tremendous splash into the water, but scrambled out again, and went bounding away, while, instead of following their comrade's example, Oliver and Drew stood listening, appalled by the deep roar as of subterranean thunder, which ran away from close to their feet to die away in the distance, and then rise again—a strange reverberation that seemed to make the rocks quiver upon which they stood.

"We must have him some day," said Panton, stepping right down on a stone, whose surface was just above the level of the water; and now, for the first time, Oliver saw that there was a slightly perceptible current running on either side of this stone, the water gliding by with a glassy motion, this evidently being the outlet of the lake; and on joining Panton he found himself facing what resembled a rugged Gothic archway at the foot of the stony walls, where a couple of great fragments of lava had fallen together.

"Why, it is a cavern!" cried Oliver, as he bent forward, and tried to peer into the darkness before him.

"A cavern? Yes; Aladdin's cave, and we're going to explore it," cried Panton. "Now then, Smith, five candles, please, and all lit ready for us to go in and see what there is to be seen."

Smith walked right in, stepping from stone to stone for a few yards, and then leaping off the block on which he stood in midstream to the lava at the side; and, upon Oliver following him, he found that he was standing upon another stream, one which had become solid as it cooled, while the water which now filled the cup-like hollow had gradually eaten itself a channel in the stone, about a quarter of the width of the lava, and this flowed on into the darkness right ahead.

"What do you think of it?" cried Panton.

"Wet, dark, and creepy," said Oliver, as he listened to a peculiar whispering noise made by the water as it glided along in its stone canal, the sound being repeated in a faint murmur from the sides and top.

Then scritch-scratch and a flash of light which sank and then rose again, as the splint of wood, whose end Smith had struck, began to burn strongly.

"Now, Billy! Candleses!" cried the sailor, and light after light began to burn, showing the shape of the place—a fairly wide rift, whose sides came together about twenty feet overhead. The floor was wonderfully level and some forty feet wide, the stream being another nine or perhaps but eight, but widening as it went on.

As soon as the candles were lit Smith held up three, and Wriggs two, right overhead, so as to illuminate the place, and Oliver and Drew gazed with a feeling of awe at the sloping sides which glistened with magnificent crystals, many of which were pendent from sloping roof and sides, though for the most part they were embedded in the walls.

"Well, is that wet, dark, and creepy?" cried Panton.

"It is very wonderful," replied Drew. Oliver said nothing, for he was peering right before him into the darkness, and trying to master a curious feeling of awe.

"This is something like a find," cried Panton, triumphantly.

"How far does it go in?" said Oliver, at last.

"Don't know. We are going to explore."

"Will it be safe? This may lead right down into the bowels of the volcano."

"I think not," said Panton, "but right away underground somewhere. Once upon a time when the volcano was in action it overflowed here or cut a way through the wall, and then the fiery stream forced its way onward, and was, no doubt, afterwards covered in by the stones and cinders hurled out by the mountain. Then, of course, after the volcano had played itself out, and the lake formed in the crater, it in turn overflowed, and the water ate its way along, as you see, right in the river of lava, which it followed naturally downwards."

"And do you want us to follow the stream naturally downwards?" said Oliver.

"Of course. I've only been in about fifty yards, but it is certainly the most wonderful place I have ever seen. Look here."

He picked from a crevice a great bunch of soft dark brown filaments, somewhat resembling spun glass.

"What's that? Some kind of fibre?" cried Drew. "But how does it come here?"

"Is it fibre?" said Panton, smiling.

"No; too brittle. It is glass."

"Yes. Obsidian—a volcanic glass."

"But it looks like the result of glass-blowing," said Oliver.

"Right; so it is. Volcanic glass-blowing. This must have been driven out of some aperture in the burning mountain during an eruption, steam acting upon flint and lime when in a state of fusion."

"But where are you going to get your flint and lime from to make a glass like this?" said Oliver.

"Who can say? From the interior of the earth, or from deposits made by the sea."

"I don't see that," said Drew.

"Indeed! Why, haven't you silicious sand, the lime from the coral and shells and soda from the seaweeds of thousands of years. Plenty from that supply alone, without calculating what may be beneath us. Now then, forward: I'll lead, and we had better all go carefully, in case of there being any chasms. As far as I've been the floor was all like this, smooth and just faintly marked by a grain formed by the flow."

He took a candle, and, holding it high above his head, led the way, closely followed by Oliver.

"No fear of our losing our way," said the latter. "We have only to keep on by the side of the stream, and then notice which way it flows. If we go against it, we must be right in coming back."

The way widened as they progressed, and was to a small extent down-hill, but not sufficiently so to make the water rush onwards, only sufficient for it to glide along in a glassy smooth fashion, keeping up the same mysterious whispering which grew as they went on into the darkness, not seeming to be louder, but so to speak as if there were more and more of this strange murmur extending onward and onward to infinity.

Once they all stopped to look back at the light which shone in through the cavern's mouth, and looking dazzlingly bright as it played upon the water gliding in softly from the lake, but soon growing softer and opalescent, and gradually dying away. Five minutes later, when Oliver turned back to look again, he found that they must have unconsciously descended, for there was only a faint dawn of light upon the roof of the cave, and a minute later all was black.

"Now," said Drew, with an involuntary shiver which he turned off as being from the temperature. "What are you going to show us? for it's getting chilly here."

"One of the wonders of the world," replied Panton. "Look at the crystals here."

"Yes, but we saw them before."

"Then look at the incrustations of sulphur here. These must have been here for countless ages. Look, too, how it is heaped against this wall."

"Yes, wonderful, but we saw plenty of sulphur when you came up out of that hole where you first went down, if you remember, and brought plenty up."

"Yes," said Oliver. "Can't you show us something more like what must have been in Aladdin's cave, gold, silver, and precious stones?"

Panton held up his light as they turned round a bend of the rocky side on their left, and pointed to the coloration of the rocks and the half loose fragments, which still clung in their place, while other bits had fallen down.

"There," he said, "those are as bright as anything in Aladdin's cave."

"And as valuable?"

"That depends on the value people put upon them. From a geological point of view, and the study of the formation of crystals by volcanic heat they are priceless."

"But how much farther are you going?" said Drew.

"As far as the candles will let us," said Panton. "Hallo!"

His voice was echoed from a distance as loudly as he had spoken, and the "Hallo!" went reverberating away in the gloom.

"We must be in a big opening," he said, and again his voice echoed, and then went on repeating itself and dying away.

Panton thrust a hand into his pocket and brought out a roll of magnesium wire, gave Wriggs his gun to hold, and then lit one end which flashed out into a brilliant whitish light, surrounded by dense fumes of smoke, and illuminating the vast hall in which they stood, for here the tiny river ran in a wide-spreading plain of smooth lava which must at one time have been a lake of molten stone, now hard, cold, and dry, save where the water glided on like so much steel in motion.

As the magnesium wire burned out, the candles which were getting short looked like so many yellowish sparks in the midst of utter blackness, and it was some minutes before even Panton showed any disposition to stir. But at last the eyes of all began to lose the dazzled sensation caused by the white glare, and Panton proposed that they should go on.

"What for?" said Drew. "There are specimens enough for you here without going farther, and the place seems to be all alike."

"Oh, no: all variety. You are not afraid, are you?"

"Well, I don't know so much about that," replied Drew, quietly. "I have no wish to seem cowardly, but it is not very pleasant moleing along here in the darkness. I keep expecting to step down into some bottomless pit."

"If we come across one, you'll see me go down first. But hark! What's that?"

"I don't hear anything," said Drew.

"Don't you, Lane?" cried Panton.

"Well, yes, I fancy I can hear a dull sound as of falling water."

"There must be a cascade, then, farther in. Come on, I must see that. I've got some more wire."

Holding his candle well on high, he strode boldly on over the lava stream, his two friends feeling bound to follow him, while Smith and Wriggs came last.

"How do you feel, Tommy?" whispered the latter.

"Bad," was the laconic reply.

"Don't seem no good in going no furder, do it?"

"Not a bit, and these here candles'll be out d'rectly. Hold hard, please, sir, we've got to light up again."

Oliver heard his words, and hailed Drew, who in turn called to Panton. But the latter was just at an angle where the lava stream swept round to the left, and there was a reason why he did not hear the call, and they saw him disappear round the corner with his light.

Drew hastened his steps and followed, catching sight of him for a moment, and then losing him again, for Panton's light was extinguished, and Drew stood peering forward in an agony of dread, feeling certain that their companion had dropped down into some horrible crevice in the lava; while he had suddenly himself stepped from almost perfect silence into a part of the cavern where his ears were smitten by a fearful din of falling water.

The next minute, in an agony of spirit that seemed too hard to bear, his outstretched candle lit up Panton's face, which was farther illumined by the lights the others bore.

"My light's burned out," cried Panton, placing his lips close to Drew's ear. "I say, what a row the water makes."

The effort to speak grew troublesome, and signs were resorted to. Fresh candles were lit, and in spite of an objection raised by Oliver, Panton was for going on again.

"We must see the falls now we are so near," he shouted. "We can't be many yards away. We'll come better provided with lights another time."

Starting on again, but going very carefully, Panton continued his way onward pretty close to the edge of the smooth river which ran now several feet below the level on which they walked. And as he held out his candle, so as to clearly see the edge, the light gleamed fitfully from the black glassy surface of the stream.

All at once Panton found himself at an angle of the rock, where a second stream joined the one by which they had come, and as the others joined him, it seemed as if their progress was at an end. This second stream was a surprise, for it was larger than the one by their right, and coming as it did almost at right angles from their left, it was puzzling as to whence it could come, for it did not seem possible that it could have issued from the crater lake.

And there they stood in a noise that was now deafening, holding their lights on high, and trying to pierce the black darkness in front, but of course in vain.

A peculiar fact struck Oliver now, as he stood pretty close to the lava edge of the angular platform upon which they had halted, and this was, that the flames of all their candles were drawn away from them toward where the water of the conjoined streams must be falling in one plunge down into some terrible gulf. He knew at once that this was caused by a strong, steady current of air setting towards the falls, and in his uneasiness he was about to point out to Panton that their candles were rapidly burning away, when the latter suddenly lit his remaining piece of magnesium wire, and the next minute they were all straining their eyes, and now looking into a misty glare of light, right in front— evidently the mist rising from the churned-up water—or now upon their grotesque black shadows, cast by the white-smoked magnesium upon the floor and the ceiling far above.

But there was no sign of the water itself, only the conformation of the lava stream whose edge could be seen upon the other side of the second river at least thirty feet away.

"What's to be done?" said Panton at last, as the magnesium burned out and all was once more black darkness.

"Get back," said Oliver, with his lips to his friend's ear. "The candles are guttering away terribly, and we must not be left in the dark."

"No," yelled Panton, "that wouldn't be pleasant. Hang it, all my candle's done."

Time had gone faster than they had expected since the second candles were lit, and turning to Oliver he said, sharply,—

"There, you lead the way back. It isn't far if you step out. Forward!"

Oliver wanted no telling, and he started back, but did not begin to breathe freely till the angle of the rock wall was passed and they found themselves again in silence, just too as another candle began to flicker.

"Hullo!" cried Oliver, glancing back. "What does this mean?"

"What?" said Panton.

"The number of lights. Yours is gone and this one will be out directly, but there ought to be three more. Drew, Smith, ourselves. Here, where is Wriggs?"

There was no answer, and in a strained, excited voice, Smith shouted,—

"Hi, Billy lad, where are yer?"

There was a whispering echo, but nothing more till Oliver spoke,—

"Where did you see him last?"

"See him, sir, why yonder, where the magneshy was burnt. Billy ahoy-y-y-y!"

But there was no answer, and they stood in a little group appalled by the knowledge that their lights would not last many minutes longer.

"Here—quick, Smith, you have some more candles?" cried Oliver.

"Not a blessed one, sir. Billy Wriggs has got what there is left in his jersey."

The truth forced itself upon them now with horrifying force that they had done wrong in making this attempt so badly provided, and in trusting so fully to Panton, who in his eager enthusiasm had gone too far.

One thought was in every mind, would they ever be able to find their way out of this terrible darkness when the last ray of light had failed?



CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

IN THE GROSS DARKNESS.

Panton's conscience smote him, and he could not speak, for he felt that he was to blame for their trouble. But Oliver Lane rose to the occasion.

"Quick," he said, "all candles out but one. Keep yours, Drew, and the other can be relit when it burns down."

In an instant there was a darkening of the scene of gloom, and the young botanist held up his dim yellow light a little higher.

"Now, then, what's to be done?" he said, huskily. "Hail—hail, all together," cried Oliver, and he was obeyed, but the echoes were the only answers to their cries.

"Poor old Billy! Poor old Billy!" groaned Smith.

"Silence, there!" said Oliver, sharply. "There is only one thing to do. You must get back to the entrance as quickly as you can, and then make for the brig to fetch lights and ropes."

"But it seems so cruel to go and leave the poor fellow without making farther search."

"You cannot make farther search without lights," cried Oliver, angrily. "Quick! you are wasting time. Go at once while your lights last."

"And when the lights are all out, what then? How are we to find our way?"

"By touch," cried Oliver. "One of you must creep along by the side of the river and feel the way from time to time."

"Come along, then," cried Panton, "but it does seem too hard to go and leave the poor fellow."

"He's not going to be left," said Oliver, quietly.

"What do you mean?" cried Panton.

"I am going to stay."

"Then I shall stay with you," said Panton, firmly. "I'm not going to leave you in the lurch."

"You are going to do as I tell you," raged out Oliver. "Go, and don't lose the chance of saving the poor fellow's life. Quick! Off!"

"Let me stay with you, sir," growled Smith.

"No, man, go!" cried Oliver, and without a word, Drew led off with the others following and the faint rays from the candle shining on the rocky wall, with a very feeble gleam. Then as Oliver watched, it appeared like a faint star on the surface of the water, making the young man shudder at the thought of some terrible subterranean creature existing there ready to attack him as soon as the last rays of the candle and the steps had died out.

This did not take long, for roused to make quick effort by those stern, emphatic commands, the sadly diminished party hurried on, with Oliver watching them as he stood still for a few minutes, and then moved slowly farther away from the little whispering river, extending his hands till they touched the rocky wall against which he leaned.

He listened to the footsteps growing more and more faint, and watched the faint yellow star, until it died right away, gleamed faintly into sight once more, and then was completely gone, leaving him in total darkness, and face to face with despair, and the knowledge that the fate which had snatched away his companion so suddenly, might at any moment be his.

For what was it? Had he slipped and fallen into the stream, and been swept away before he could rise to the surface, and cry for help? Had he inhaled some mephitic gas which had overcome him? Or was he to let superstitious imagination have its play and believe that some dragon or serpent-like creature had suddenly raised a head out of the dark waters, seized him, and borne him down? It was possible, and a shudder ran through the young man's frame as he pictured the great serpent-like object suddenly darting itself at him, wrapping him in its folds as he had seen the constricting sea-snakes seize their prey, and at once drag them out of sight.

He shuddered at the thought, and in spite of a strong effort to command his nerve, the horror of thick darkness was upon him for a few minutes, and a mad desire came over him to shriek aloud, and run frantically in what he believed to be the direction of the entrance, though a movement or two which he had made had robbed him even of that knowledge, and for the moment he felt that he had lost all count of where he was.

He came to his natural self again, with his hands tightly over his mouth to keep back the cries which had risen to his lips.

"As if I were a frightened child in dread of punishment," he said, half aloud, in his anger against self, and from that minute he grew calm and cool once more. Feeling about a little over the face of the rock as he turned to it, he found a place where he could seat himself and rest for a time. And now he knew well enough that he must be facing the stream, and that all he had to do to reach the entrance was that which he had bidden his companions do, creep along by the side, and dip in his hand from time to time, so as to keep in touch with the water.

"As a last resource," he said, softly, "as a last resource," and then he began to think of how necessary this would be, should he have to seek the daylight alone, for he recalled how, though the place was a mere passage at times through which the lava stream flowed, there were spots where it opened out into vast halls, whose sides and roof were beyond the reach of the artificial light they had used, and in these places he knew he might easily lose himself and with this loss might fail in his nerve, and perhaps go mad with horror.

He shuddered at the thought as he recalled the sensation through which he had fought his way, and determining to be firm and strong, he turned his attention away from his own sufferings to those of the man for whose sake he had stayed.

"And it was to help him and give him encouragement that I stopped," he said to himself, with a feeling of hot indignation against his weakness. "Then I must not stay here, but go back towards where we missed him."

He sat thinking for a few moments as to his plans, and then, feeling certain that when help came, those who returned would follow right on, he concluded that it would be better to go back to the junction of the two streams once more, and stay there, striving from time to time, in spite of the deafening noise, to make the lost man hear.

"It will encourage him, for I will not believe he's dead," said Oliver aloud, and then, in spite of himself he shivered, for his voice went echoing strangely along the great hollow. But he mastered this unpleasant feeling, and determining to be strong, he raised his voice and uttered a loud "Ahoy," listening directly after to the wonderful echoes, which seemed to fly in all directions, repeating and blurring each other as it were, into a strange confusion till the last one died out.

"Not pleasant," thought Oliver, as he listened, and then when all was silent once more he made a start for the river's edge, and reaching it began to follow it down. This, by walking slowly, did not prove very difficult, for the water had cut the bed in which it ran so straight down through the lava that there was quite a well-marked angle, which he could run his right foot along and make his way without stooping, save at rare intervals.

As he went on with his eyeballs aching from the strong natural effort to see through the darkness, his mind would keep wandering away to the glory of the sunshine without, and how beautiful were light and life, and how little appreciated till a person was shut off from their enjoyment.

Travelling slowly on in this way for how long a time he could not tell, he at last became conscious of the fact that he must be nearing the place where they had turned off nearly at right angles and plunged from silence into the deafening roar of echoes formed by the noise of falling waters. For there it all was plainly on the ear, but as it were in miniature, and Oliver stopped short, thinking.

"Shall I be doing wisely in going forward after all?" he said to himself, and he hesitated as he thought of one of the main objects of his being there—to try and let poor Wriggs know that he was not forsaken and that help would soon be at hand.

"My voice can never be heard in all that din," he said to himself, and before going farther he uttered a loud shout, and listened to the echoes, one of which struck him as being so peculiar that he shouted again with the repetition sounding even more peculiar.

His heart began to throb and his hopes to rise, for he felt convinced that the "ahoy" was an answer to his call, and in a wild fit of excitement and joy he said to himself,—

"It must be. Now, let's try if it is after all only an Irish echo."

"Ahoy!" he cried. "Where are you?"

There was utter silence for a few moments, and then he heard a cry sounding so wild and strange that it seemed to freeze the very marrow in his bones.



CHAPTER FORTY TWO.

A LONELY VIGIL.

Oliver was too much startled for a few moments to move or speak. Then making an effort to master his dread, "It's an Irish echo," he said. "Poor Wriggs, he is making his way towards me. Ahoy! this way."

"Comin' sir," came plainly enough now, but directly after every echo seemed again blurred and confused like a picture reflected in agitated water. But the sound was certainly very near, and each shout and answer came closer, till at last the man's steps were plainly heard in a slow shuffling fashion, as he evidently carefully extended one foot and then drew the other up to join it.

"Where are you?" cried Oliver at last, for the steps were now very close, and his voice, like the man's, sounded strange and confused by the repetitions from roof, wall, and water.

"Clost here!"

"Hold out your hand," cried Oliver, as he extended his own. "Ha! That's good," he said, with his heart leaping for joy at the warm strong grasp he received. "Thank Heaven you are safe!"

"Thank-ye, Mr Oliver Lane, sir. But my word it are black, Hold of a coalin' screw's nothing to it."

"Where were you?" said Oliver, as he clung to the man's hand.

"Oh, clost along here by the waterside, sir."

"But did you fall in? No; you are not wet."

"Oh, no, sir, I never fell. I'm dry enough."

"Then how came you to hang behind, and cause all this trouble and alarm?"

"'Cause company's good, they says, if you're going to be hanged; and as you wasn't, sir, I 'adn't the 'art to let you stop all alone here in the dark."

"Why, it isn't Wriggs, then?"

"Nay, sir, that's for sartin, I on'y wish as how it was."

"Why, Smith, my good fellow! Then you stopped back to keep me company?"

"That's so, sir, and I thought it would be best. You see it'll be bad enough for two on us to wait, but for one all alone in a coal-cellar like this, it's too horful I says to myself, and so I just hung back, and here I am, sir."

"Oh, Smith, my good fellow!" cried Oliver, who felt moved at the man's act.

"It's all right, sir. You and me can talk about birds as you've skinned, and about some o' those tomtit and sparrer things as I've seen about, and meant to shoot for yer some day. And when we're tired o' that, we can ask riddles and sing a song or two, or play at chucking one stone at another, or into the water. It won't be so much like being all alone in the coal-cellar, shut up for a naughty boy as I used to be when I was a little 'un."

"Smith, I can never feel grateful enough for this," cried Oliver.

"Gammon, sir; Pretty sort of a chap I should be if I hadn't ha' been ready to stop and keep a gent like you comp'ny a bit. Don't you say no more about that there, sir."

"I must, Smith, I must," said Oliver, huskily.

"Then I shall be off till you've done, sir; and you'll have to say it to the heckers as allus answers, 'Where'?"

Oliver pressed the man's hand, and Smith gave a sigh of relief.

"Any use to offer you a bit o' good pig-tail, sir?" he said. "Werry comfortin' at a time like this."

"No, thank you, Smith, I don't chew."

"I doos," said Smith, giving a grunt or two, which was followed by the click of the knife being shut after using it to cut a quid, and then by the sharp snap of a brass tobacco box. "Werry bad habit, sir, but I don't seem able to leave it off. I say, sir, what about poor old Billy? Don't say as you think he's drowned."

"No, no, I hope and pray not," said Oliver.

"That's right, sir. I don't believe he is. Stoopid chuckle brain sort o' chap in some things; and talk about a bull being obstinit, why, it would take a hundred bulls biled down to produce enough obst'nacy to make one Billy Wriggs. He wouldn't get drowned; I've known him tumble out o' the rigging over and over, and be upset out of a boat, but he's only picked his self up and clambered in again, and been hauled into the boat when he was upset. While one day when he were washed overboard— and I thought he had gone that time, for you couldn't ha' lowered a boat in such a sea—I'm blessed if another big wave didn't come and wash him back again, landing him over the poop so wet as you might ha' wrung him out wonderful clean, and if he'd only had a week's beard off, he'd ha' looked quite the gentleman."

"Poor fellow, we must save him somehow."

"Tchah! Don't you be down-hearted, sir, you see if he don't turn up all right again. Reg'lar bad shillin' Billy is. Why, you see how he went on when he went up the mountain and into holes and over 'em and into hot water. He allus comes out square. He can't help it. No savage couldn't kill Billy no matter what he did, and as for this here game— oh, he'll be all right."

"I hope so, Smith," said Oliver, with a sigh.

"Well, sir, it don't sound as if yer did. You spoke in a tone o' woice as seemed to say I hope he's jolly well drowned."

"I can't help feeling low-spirited, Smith."

"Course you can't, sir, but you just cheer up and I'll try and tell you a yarn o' some kind."

"No, no: not now."

"But I feel as if I'd like to, sir, a reg'lar good out an' outer—a stiff 'un, cause just when I got to the biggest whopper in it, I should expect to hear Billy behind my back in that solemn and serus woice of his a-saying, 'Speak the truth, Tommy, speak the truth.'"

"If I could think that, Smith, I'd say go on, but I cannot. Here, let's talk about him and his accident."

"I don't think there's been no accident, sir, yer see he aren't a haccidental sort o' chap."

"Well, about his disappearance."

"Disappearance, sir?" said Smith. "I aren't no scholard, but I don't see as how a man can disappear in the dark. That aren't nat'ral, is it?"

"No: of course not, a blunder of mine, Smith. Do you feel cold?"

"No, sir, on'y just comf'able. Watcher think o' doing?"

"I did mean to go right to where we stood looking down over the water toward the falls, so as to be near poor Wriggs, but our voices would be quite drowned."

"Might take a walk there, sir, all the same," said Smith, "an' then come back, you know. But I say, sir, you don't think there's no underground sort o' wild beasties here, do you?"

"No, Smith, nothing of the kind."

"No big sort of worms as might twissen round yer and pull yer into their holes?"

"No, Smith, I think we shall have the place all to ourselves."

"And no t'other sort o' things, sir?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, sir, I don't quite azakly know, but it comes natral like to be feared o' being in the dark, and one has heard o' bogies and ghosties and that sort o' thing."

"Did you ever see anything of the kind?"

"Well, no, sir, I never did, but I've heerd chaps say as they've seen some rum things in their time from sea sarpents downwards."

"As to sea-serpents or some kind of monstrous creature similar to the old saurians—"

"Sawrians, sir,—do you mean sea sawrians?"

"Sea and river; the crocodiles whose remains we find as fossils. There is plenty of room in the sea, Smith, and, as a naturalist, I am quite ready to believe in something fresh being discovered. We have seen small sea-serpents, and there is no reason why there might not be big ones, but as to what you call bogies and ghosts, for goodness sake throw over all those silly superstitious notions."

"What, don't you believe people ever comes back arter they're dead?"

"On purpose to frighten the living? No, Smith, I do not. It is an insult to the greatness of nature and the whole scheme of creation."

"Well, sir, speakin' as a man as couldn't help feelin' a bit uncomfortable here in the dark with on'y one looficer in his pocket, it does me good to hear you say that, though it is a bit higher up than I can quite reach with my head. You've made me feel a deal better, for it aren't nice to think as there's anything o' that sort to upset you when the place is quite bad enough without."

"Of course it is," said Oliver. "Come on now. Shall I lead, or will you?"

"You, please sir, and what do you say to keepin' hold o' hands?"

"I was going to propose it. Here's mine."

Smith grasped the extended hand, and Oliver started off at once, making his way cautiously to the edge of the river, and then, as a boy might along the kerbstone of a street, he kept on passing his right foot along, till at last they stood in the profound darkness, listening to the thundering echoing roar of the falling water reverberating from the hollow roof and rising and sinking in booming deep diapasons till there were moments when it seemed to their stunned ears like a burst of strange wild giant music.

They stood for long enough together there, feeling that they were quite at the edge where the water-worn lava formed an angle, thinking, with many a shudder, that if poor Wriggs had fallen from where they stood, they could never by any possibility see him again.

At last Oliver drew his companion back, and, placing his lips to the man's ear, shouted to him that it was of no use to stay there, and they had better return to the portion of the cavern round the angle where they could speak to each other.

"You be leader going back," said Oliver.

"But I aren't sure which way to go, sir," shouted back Smith.

Oliver placed his lips close again.

"Keep your left foot on the edge and slide it along as we go."

"But suppose it's wrong way, sir?" suggested Smith.

"It can't be," cried Oliver again. "If you keep your left foot on the edge of the rock, every step must take us back toward the entrance."

Smith tightened his grasp and began, but so clumsily, that at the end of ten minutes he slipped, fell, and gave so violent a jerk to Oliver's arm that the latter nearly lost his hold, and, for a few moments, the sailor's fate seemed sealed. For he lay motionless with both legs over the edge, while all Oliver could do was to hold on, with his heart beating heavily, and the roar of the cavern seeming to be multiplied a hundredfold. He could not shout, for his throat felt dry, but he knew that if he did, his voice would not be heard, and he waited till Smith recovered himself a little, then made a struggle, and managed with his companion's help to get on his legs again.

Then the slow movement was resumed, with Oliver conscious of the exertion and shock by the twitching, beating sensation of the pulses in the sailor's hand.

At last, after what seemed to be an endless length of time the sudden silence which fell upon them told them that they were somewhere about their resting-place, and drawing back from the edge of the little river, Smith sank down upon the lava with a groan.

"Oh, murder in Irish!" he said. "I thought I was gone, sir. I was feeling along with my left hoof, when my right suddenly give a slip on a bit of rock as seemed like glass, and there it was slithering away more and more. If you hadn't ha' held on, you might ha' told 'em to sell off my kit by auction when you got back."

"I thought you were gone too, Smith," said Oliver, with a shudder.

"Yes, sir, it was werry 'orrid; and do you know, I fancy that's where poor old Billy slipped and went down."

"Possibly," said Oliver, and seating himself they talked at intervals for hours in the tomb-like silence of the awful place, till a peculiar drowsy feeling stole over Oliver, and he started back into wakefulness with a shudder of horror, for it suddenly struck him that he was beginning to be influenced by some mephitic gas once more, such as had affected them along the line of the mist at the foot of the mountain.

"Smith!" he cried excitedly, "do you feel sleepy?"

A low deep breathing was the only reply.

"Smith! wake up!" he cried; but there was a want of energy in his words, and five minutes after his efforts had grown feeble in the extreme. In another, he too had succumbed, not to a dangerous soporific vapour, but to the weariness produced by long exertion, and slept as soundly as his companion, and as if there was nothing whatever to fear.



CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

SMITH HAS A STARTLER.

Oliver Lane was dreaming of pleasant gushing streams, in which swam fish of glistening colours, deep down in the soft shades, when the sun appeared to come out suddenly and dazzle his eyes, so that he could not bear it, and he sprang up to find Mr Rimmer leaning over him, holding a lantern.

"That's better, sir!" he cried. "I was beginning to be afraid that you had breathed bad air."

"I—I—what time is it?" said Oliver confusedly. "Anything the matter?"

"Matter!" said the mate. "Here, Smith, my lad, rouse!"

"Rouse up it is, sir!" cried the man, scrambling to his feet. "My trick? Eh? Oh, all right. Just dropped asleep."

"I couldn't for the moment recall where I was," said Oliver, "Thank goodness you have all come. We could do nothing, and sleep overcame us at last."

"Then you have heard nothing of poor Wriggs?" said Panton, who was one of the group that surrounded them.

"Nothing," replied Oliver.

"And never will, I'm afraid," said Mr Rimmer.

"Don't say that," cried Oliver, who was full of excitement now. "Have you just come?"

"Yes, and found you both lying here asleep, as if nothing were wrong," said Drew, who, like the others, carried a lantern. "We had a terribly long struggle to get out of the cavern, for our last piece of candle soon came to an end, and then it was very hard work to get back to the ship in the dark."

"Dark? Was it evening?"

"Black night," said Panton.

"Then what is it now?"

"The sun was just upon rising as we left the crater lake and came in," said the mate, "and that's two hours ago, full."

Smith gave his leg a slap to express his astonishment, and the mate offered them both food and water, which had been thoughtfully provided.

"By-and-by," said Oliver. "I'm not hungry now. Come on, and try and find that poor fellow."

He held out his hand for one of the lanterns, and leading the way, which was comparatively light now, as the sailors who had been brought held their lanterns well up, he soon reached the corner, passed it, and saw that they were in a very spacious cavern. Then the second stream was reached, and they all stood together gazing out toward where the cascade formed by the union of the two rivers plunged down.

But nothing was visible save blackness and wreathing vapour, which gleamed in a grey ghostly way some distance in front, and to try and see better some magnesium wire was burned.

This vivid white light showed that there was a black dripping roof some fifty feet overhead, and the water of the two streams gliding rapidly away from below the angle on which they stood, covering one whole side of the visible cavern with water, and increasing in speed till it disappeared beneath the rising mist caused, of course, by the falls.

There the lanterns were swung about over the water, and shout after shout was sent forth to be lost in the torrent's roar, till at last the mate turned away and signed to the party to follow him.

He led them back to where the noise grew hushed, and they could speak once more.

"There is nothing more to be done, gentlemen," said the mate, sadly. "The poor fellow must have gone over somewhere along that rocky edge. I saw several places where it was as slippery as ice, and he has been swept into the depths. Ugh, the whole thing makes me shudder."

He was right: they all knew nothing more could be done, and they tramped back over the smooth lava stream.

"And I feel to blame for it all," said Panton, as he walked between his friends. "Who could have foretold that such a terrible calamity would happen to us? It is too horrible to bear."

At last there was a faint gleam of light upon the water, followed by a flash, and then the lanterns were extinguished, for the blaze of sunshine could be seen playing upon the lake and the Gothic archway of the cavern's mouth fringed with creepers and ferns, while like some curious silhouette, there for a few moments upon one of the rocks just level with the water, those which had served for stepping-stones, was the figure of a large graceful leopard as it stood gazing into the cavern, but turned and bounded away directly.

The light was hardly bearable for a few minutes, as the party issued out to climb the walls of the ancient crater, and then descend on the other side, but eyes soon grew accustomed to the change, and Smith uttered a deep sigh full of mournfulness.

"I never see nothing look so beautiful before," he said to Oliver, "but oh, if poor old Billy Wriggs was here to see it. He wouldn't say to me, 'Speak the truth, Tommy, speak the truth,' for them's the truest words, sir, as I ever said."

They reached the side of the brig, hot and weary, to find all well, and as they parted on the deck Smith turned to Oliver.

"I'm a-goin' down to have a good heavy wash, sir, 'fore I has any breakfast, and then I don't think as I shall eat any, for it's hard lines to ha' lost one's mate."

"Hard indeed, Smith," said Oliver, sympathetically. "Poor fellow! but I think we did all we could."

"Heverythink, sir, I say," replied the man, who then went slowly below into the forecastle and rushed out again, looking horrified, scared, and yelling loudly.

"Hallo!" cried Mr Rimmer, running forward. "What's the matter now?"

Smith could not speak, but stood with his lips quivering and his eyes round and staring.

"Do you hear?" cried the mate, angrily. "Why don't you speak?"

The reason was patent to all. The poor fellow could not utter a word, but stood pointing wildly down through the forecastle hatch.



CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.

A TONGUE IN A KNOT.

Oliver and the mate immediately made a sharp rush for the opening, and the first uttered a cry of astonishment as he got down into the men's place, for there, dimly seen by the faint light shed by a great disc of glass let into the fore part of the deck and well cemented with pitch, was a man in one of the bunks sleeping heavily, while in a tone indicative of his astonishment, the mate exclaimed,—

"What, Wriggs! You here?"

"Ay, ay, sir," shouted the man, rising so suddenly that he struck his head a violent blow against the floor of the bunk above him. "I say, don't wake a man quite so hard!" he grumbled, and then, as he recognised the speaker, "Beg pardon, sir, didn't know it was you."

"Why, how did you get here?" cried Oliver.

"Get here, sir? Oh, I walked it, and was that bet out that I tumbled in at once. Tommy Smith got back?"

"Yes, and all of them," cried the mate. "Here, pass the word for Smith, and tell him it isn't a ghost."

"I'm here, sir," said a gruff voice as the hatchway was filled up by a body which darkened the light. "Is it alive?"

"Tommy ahoy!" cried Wriggs hoarsely. "I got back fust."

"But how?" cried Oliver. "You did not pass us and come out the way we went in."

"No, sir; I went out t'other way by the back door."

"Is he all right—alive?" cried Panton, in a voice full of hysterical excitement as he scrambled down, followed by Drew.

"He seems to be," said the mate. "Are you sure you're alive, Wriggs?"

"Yes, sir, I think so."

"But how was it?" cried Oliver.

"Ah, that's a queshtun, sir," said the man, rubbing one ear. "I don't quite know, on'y as I was walking along arter you one moment, and the next my legs seemed to run down a slide and I was in the water."

"I thought so," cried Oliver.

"I did holler, but there was such a row nobody heered me, and afore I knowed where I was I seemed to be going down with five hundred millions o' chaps sousing buckets o' water on my head till I was most stifled, and then I was going on again."

"Going on where?"

"Oh, I dunno, on'y as it was all dark and the water just deep enough to slide me along over the bottom which was smooth as glass."

"Ah! the trough cut by the water in the lava stream," cried Panton, "continued right on after the fall."

"Yes, sir, that's it. I continued right on arter the fall till I got rayther sick on it and tried to get out fust one side and then the other."

"And did you?" cried Oliver.

"No, sir, I just didn't, for it was all as slipper as slither, and as soon as I tried, the water seemed to lay hold on me and pull me back and send me on again."

"And did you keep on like that?"

"Oh, no; I got up sometimes and tried to walk, and other times I went along sittin'."

"But didn't you try to come back?"

"Try, sir? What was the good? Why, the water did just what it liked with me, and wouldn't even let me try to swim. Do you think I could ha' got back up that waterfall? Bless your 'art, sir, seems to me as if you might as well try to get up to the moon."

"Never mind that," said Oliver, excitedly; "tell us about what followed," and then he turned his head sharply, for Smith was rubbing his hands down his legs and chuckling softly now in his intense delight to see his messmate back safe and sound.

"Told you so—I told you so," he muttered.

"Course I will, sir," said Wriggs. "Well, you see the water kept carrying me along in the dark, and as fast as I managed to get up it downed me again and began to stuffycate me, only I wouldn't have that, and got up again and tried to stand. But it warn't no use, the bottom was too slithery, and down I goes again in the darkness, thinking it was all over with me, but I gets the better of it again, and on I goes sailing along, sometimes up and sometimes down, and a-swallering enough water to last me for a week."

"Yes, go on," cried Oliver.

"Right, sir, I'm a-goin' on," said Wriggs. "Where was I?"

"A-swallerin' the water, Billy," said Smith, interposing a word or two.

"So I was, Tommy, lots of it. I kep' on swallerin' that water till I didn't swaller no more 'cause there warn't no room. So, of course, I left off, and went bobbin' up and bobbin' down, sometimes goin' head fust and sometimes legs fust. Oh, it was at a rate! And it was as dark as pitch, and you couldn't get out this side nor t'other side neither."

"Well, go on," said Mr Rimmer, impatiently.

"Yes, sir; and there I goes, getting in a puff o' wind now and then when I has a charnsh, and the water a-rooshin' me along and the bottom all slithery, and sometimes I was heads up and sometimes toes, and the water kep' a carryin' of me along so as I couldn't stand straight nor sit down nor kneel nor nothing. But on I keeps again, on and on and on, and sometimes I was down and—"

"I say," said Panton, "wasn't it a very long way?"

"Yes, sir, a mortal long ways, and sometimes the water got me down when I tried to swim and sometimes—"

"Yes, yes, yes," cried Oliver, for the mate was roaring with laughter; "but you've told us all that over and over again. We want you to get to the end."

"That's what I wanted to do, sir," said Wriggs, "but there didn't seem to be no end and the water kep' a—"

"My good fellow, that isn't the way to tell a story," cried Oliver, impatiently. "Now, then, get on: we've had enough of that. The water swept you along a dark cavernous place where it had cut a way through the lava, and you couldn't keep your feet."

"That's it, sir. You can tell it ever so much better nor me. Go on, please."

"How can I?" cried Oliver, as there was a general burst of laughter at this. "I was not there, so how am I to tell your story?"

"I d'know, sir; but you seems to know ever so much more about it than me, for it was so dark and the water kep' a-rooshin me along—"

"Right to the entrance, where the stream swept you out into the open air, but before you got there you could see the light gleaming along on the top of the water, and this increased till you found yourself in' the full glow of daylight where the stream rushed out and down toward the sea."

"Why, did you tumble in too, Mr Oliver Lane, sir?" cried Wriggs, staring open-eyed.

"I? Of course not," cried Oliver.

"But that were just how it was, sir. How did you know?"

"I only supposed it was like that, my man."

"Well that's a rum 'un, for I was washed right out with a regular fizz at last, like a cork in a drain."

"And where?" said Mr Rimmer.

"Oh, over yonder somewheres, sir, and I warn't long scuffling ashore, for there was two black fins out, and I knowed as Jack shark's shovel nose warn't far in front."

"Was it in the lagoon?"

"Yes, sir, that was it, and then I gets all my things off and wrings 'em, and lays 'em out ready for the sun to shine on when it come up, while I covers myself all over with sand, which was as nyste and warm as getting between blankets."

"But I thought you said you were swept out into the broad daylight," cried Oliver.

"No, sir, it was you as said that: I didn't. I couldn't cause it was the moon a-shining, and the stars and some o' them flying sparks in among the trees."

"Well, you've got a rum way of telling a story, Wriggs," said the mate. "What did you do next?"

"Oh, I snoozed on till it was quite warm, and my clothes was dry, and then I takes my bearin's and steered off through the woods for port."

"Did you see any of the blacks?" said the mate.

"No, sir, and didn't want to. It was black enough for me in that hole underground, to last me for a long time yet. Don't want any more black, sir, yet, thank-ye."

"Well, you're safe back," said Panton, "and no one is more glad than I am, though we did have all our trouble for nothing, and you may thank Mr Lane and Smith for staying there in the dark waiting till lights were fetched."

"Did Mr Lane do that, sir?"

"To be sure he did."

"And Tommy Smith stopped too, sir?"

"Yes, to keep him company, though we thought once we'd lost him too."

"Much ado about nothing," said the mate drily. "You gentlemen lead me a pretty dance. What's the next thing, Mr Panton—do you want to go down the crater of the volcano?"

"Yes, if it is possible," replied the young man, so seriously that there was a general laugh, and soon after Wriggs was left to finish his sleep, while Panton retired to the cabin to number and make notes about a few of the crystals which he had brought back in his pockets, but thinking of how that cavern might be turned to use.



CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

SMITH HAS A "SENTIMENT."

Mr Rimmer gave way, and a few days after an expedition was made to try once more to mount right up to the mouth of the crater. Taking advantage of what had been learned in former expeditions, the little party followed their last plan, rowed beyond the poisonous mist, landed, and after securing the boat as before, they made for the old camp, reached it and spent a delightful evening watching the faint glow upon the cloud which hovered over the mouth of the crater, and then gazed at the scintillating fire-flies, which upon this occasion made the low growth at the edge of the forest below them alive with sparkling lights.

Long before daylight they were on their way, with the air feeling cold and numbing as they climbed the loose ash and cinders which formed the slope. The great cracks in the mountain-side were successfully passed, and by sunrise they were high enough up to get a glorious view over the island, while a couple of hours after, a point was reached which enabled them to trace the greater part of the coast line and learn by the barrier reef with its white foam that without doubt they were upon an island.

"Now, then," cried Panton, after a brief halt for refreshment, "how long do you say it will take us?"

"Two hours," said Oliver, gazing up at the remainder of the slope, and thinking of how quiescent the volcano was: for save an occasional trembling or vibration under foot, all seemed still.

"One hour at the most," said Drew. "Come on."

"I say the same," cried Panton. "Come on."

Oliver proved to be nearest as to time, for they all referred to their watches when the above words were spoken, and again, when, after a long weary scramble over the yielding ashes, from which came breathings of hot, stifling air.

"Two hours, forty minutes," cried Drew. "I couldn't have thought it."

The hot, gaseous emanations had really seemed to be like breathings, and as they neared the top, they were conscious, as they paused again and again, of the mountain seeming to pant and utter sounds like weary sighs.

As they mounted higher, the heat began to grow suffocating, and it was at last so bad that Smith and Wriggs pulled up short and looked hard at their leaders.

"Well?" cried Oliver.

"Think it safe to go any furder, sir?" said Smith.

"Safe or no, we mean to get to the top now we've mounted so high. Why do you ask? Want to stop?"

"Well, sir, you see Billy Wriggs been thinking for some time as it was getting werry dangerous, and he'd like to go down."

"Speak the truth, Tommy, speak the truth," growled Wriggs.

"Why, I am speaking the truth, Billy," cried Smith, in angry remonstrance. "Didn't you say over and over again as it was werry dangerous?"

"Nay, I said it was dangerous, I didn't say werry."

"Oh, well, that's nigh enough for me, messmate."

"You two had better stay here while we go to the top," said Oliver, quietly. "Ready, you others?"

"Yes," said Panton. "Forward," and they started upward again, but stopped directly, for the two sailors were trudging up close behind them.

"I thought you two were going to stop back," cried Oliver.

"Not me," said Smith. "Billy Wriggs can, if he likes."

"What?" cried the latter, "and let you get puffin' and blowin' about havin' done my dags. Not me, Tommy, old man. I'm a-goin' right up to the top, and I'll go as far inside as he will, gen'lemen."

"Come along, then," cried Oliver, and the slow trudge, trudge was resumed in zig-zags, till Smith halted once more, and stood wiping his steaming face.

"Beg pardon, sir," he said, "but if you look uppards, you can see as the smoke hangs over toward us."

"Yes, what of that?" said Oliver.

"Well, that means wind, though we can't feel none. Wouldn't it be best, 'stead o' doublin' back, if we was to go right on now, so as to get higher and higher, and more round to windward?"

"I'm afraid that it will be the same all about the mouth of the crater," said Panton, "but we'll try."

It was a simple expedient that they ought to have thought of before, and Smith proved to be correct, for as they wound on slowly upwards the heat grew greater, but they began to be aware of soft puffs of wind, and at the end of another half-hour, they had climbed to where a steady soft current of cool air blew against them. This made the final part of the toilsome ascent so bearable that as they reached a glistening vitreous stream of greyish hue which looked as if the crater had brimmed over and poured down this molten matter, Oliver leaped upon it and ran for a couple of hundred yards. Then he disappeared suddenly, and horrified the rest, who followed as fast as they could go.

But there was no cause of alarm. As they reached the top of the slope there stood their companion some twenty feet below them on the rugged, jagged and fissured slope of the crater gazing down at a dull glistening lake of molten matter, but so covered with a grey scum that it was only from time to time that a crack appeared, out of which darted a glare so bright that it was visible in the full sunshine, while a tremendous glow struck upon their faces, making their eyes smart as they gazed at the transparent quivering gas which rose up from the molten mass.

A stronger breeze was blowing here, bearing the heat away, otherwise it would have been unbearable, and they made their way on the chaos of cindery rock which lay about in blocks riven and split in every form, some glazed by the glass of the mighty natural furnace, some of a clear vesicular silvery grey, while a hundred yards or so distant and about fifty lower than where they stood, the lake of molten matter lay about circular and apparently half a mile across. The rim of the gigantic cup which from below had looked so regular was now seen to be broken into a thousand cracks and crevices, some going right down through the greyish ash and pumice nearly to the edge of the lake.

No one spoke, it was as if they were too much stricken by awe, as they gazed at this outlet of the earth's inner fires, wondering at the way in which solid rock was turned by the intensity of the heat into a fluid which now in places they could see was in a state of ebullition, and formed rings flowing away from the boiling centre like so much water.

Then, all at once, as if moved by the same set of nerves, they all turned and fled, for without the slightest warning, a part of the lake shot up some fifty feet in the air, like some great geyser, but instead of boiling water it was fluid rock of dazzling brightness even in the sunshine. Then it fell with a sound of hideous splashing, and as they turned to gaze back there was a little rising and falling, and then all was still once more, and the surface rapidly scummed over and grew silvery and dull.

"I wouldn't have missed this for anything," cried Panton, breaking the silence as they stood watching the lake, and then, amid many expressions of wonder and awe at the grandness of the scene, they began to make their way along the well-defined rim of the crater. But slowly, for inside there was not a level space, all being a chaos of riven and scattered masses of slag, obsidian, and scoria, ragged, sharp and in part glazed by the fluid rock.

"It aren't what I thought it would be, Mr Oliver Lane, sir," said Smith, scraping the perspiration from his face with a thin piece of the obsidian which he had picked up, while Wriggs followed his example for a few moments and then threw his piece down.

"What did you expect?" said Oliver.

"On'y a big hole, sir, running right down into the middle o' the world; and I thought we should be able to see into the works."

"Works! What works, man!" said Oliver, smiling.

"Why, them as makes the world turn round; for it do turn round, don't it?"

"Of course, but not from any cause within."

"I say, Tommy, mind what yer at with that there bit o' stuff," growled Wriggs.

"Why?"

"It's sharp as ragers. I've cut my cheek."

"Sarve yer right for being so clumsy. You should use it like this here."

"Well, I did, matey."

"I'm blest!" cried Smith, throwing down the piece of volcanic glass, and dabbing at his nose, whose side was bleeding slightly.

"Cut yoursen?"

"Ay: didn't know it was so sharp as that."

Wriggs chuckled heartily, and the little party moved on as well as they could for the great fissures about the rim, some of which went down into profound depths, from whence rose up strange hissings and whisperings of escaping gases, and breathings of intensely hot air.

There was so much to see, that they would willingly have gone on trying to follow the edge all round, but before long they had warnings that the whole of one side was impassable from the vapours rising from the various fuming rifts, and that it would be madness to proceed; and at last as Panton was pressing his friends to persevere for a few yards farther, they had what Smith called "notice to quit," in a change of the wind that wafted a scorching heat toward them, which, had they not fled over the side and down the outer slope for a short distance, would have proved fatal.

It was only temporary, though, for the fresh cool air came again, and they stopped, hesitating about returning.

"We ought to have thought of it sooner," said Panton.

"Never mind, I'll climb back to yonder," said Oliver, pointing. "That seems to be the highest point. Come with me, Smith," and he began to climb the ascent once more, closely followed by the sailor.

"Whatcher going to do, sir?" cried the man, as Oliver took out what seemed to be a good-sized gold watch.

"You'll soon see," replied Oliver, as he toiled upward.

"But can't yer see what's o'clock down where they is, sir, just as well as up yonder?"

Oliver laughed, and kept on making for a conical rock needle, evidently the remaining portion of a mass of the crater edge when it was fifty feet or so higher, and being wider had remained, when other portions were blasted away by the terrific explosions which had occurred.

"Yer not going to climb up atop there, are yer, sir?" said Smith.

"Yes, you stay below," said Oliver. Finding that, as he had expected, it was an intensely hard miniature mountain of vitrified scoria, and tolerably easy of ascent, he began to climb.

"He aren't my orsifer," muttered Smith, "and I shan't stop back. I should look well if he had an accident. So here goes."

As Oliver mounted, he climbed after him, till they stood together, right on the conical pinnacle, with only just room for them to remain erect, the great boiling crater below on one side, the glorious view of the fairy-like isle, with its ring of foam around, and the vivid blue lagoon, circling the emerald green of the coast. There it all was stretched out with glorious clearness, and so exquisite, that for a few moments Oliver was entranced.

Then the fairy-like vision became commonplace, and Oliver started back to everyday life, for Smith said gruffly,—

"Better see what's o'clock, and come down, sir, for that there big pot's a-going to boil over again."

Even as he spoke there was a roar, a great gush upward of fiery fluid, and a sensation of intense heat, while the pinnacle upon which they stood literally rocked and threatened to fall.