distributed proofreaders the history of richard raynal solitary by robert hugh benson patri.reverendissimo *. *****. ******. *.*.*. et cvidam.nescienti hvnc.librvm d. contents: introduction how sir john visited master hermit: and found him in contemplation of the word from god that came to master hermit: and of his setting out how master richard fared: how he heard mass in saint pancras' church: how he came to westminster: and of his colloquy with the ankret how master richard saw the king in westminster hall: and of the mass at saint edward's altar how master richard cried out in westminster hall: and of his coming to a privy parlour of master richard's speaking with the king's grace: and how he was taken for it of master richard's second speaking with his grace: and of his detention of the parson's disquisition on the whole matter how master richard took his meat: and of master lieutenant's whipping of him of the second temptation of master richard: and how he overcame it of the dark night of the soul how sir john went again to the cell: and of what he saw there how one came to master priest: how master priest came to the king's bedchamber: and of what he heard of the name of jesus of sir john's meditations in westminster palace how master richard went to god of his burying introduction in the winter of - i had occasion to pass several months in rome. among other religious houses, lately bought back from the government by their proper owners, was one (whose order, for selfish reasons, i prefer not to specify), situated in the maze of narrow streets between the piazza navona and the piazza colonna; this, however, may be said of the order, that it is one which, although little known in italy, had several houses in england up to the reign of henry viii. like so many other orders at that time, its members moved first to france and then to italy, where it has survived in penurious dignity ever since. the religious were able to take with them at the time of exodus, three and a half centuries ago, a part of the small library that existed at the english mother-house, and some few of these mss. have survived to the present day; many others, however, have certainly perished; for in the list of books that i was looking over there one day in march, , i observed several titles, of which, the priest-librarian told me, the corresponding volumes have disappeared. to some half-dozen of these titles, however, there was appended a star, and on enquiring the meaning of this symbol, i was informed that it denoted that a translation had been made into french and preserved in the library. one of these titles especially attracted my attention. it ran as follows: vita et obitus dni ricardi raynal heremitae. upon my asking to see this and its companions, i was conducted to a dusty shelf in the little upstairs book-room, and was informed that i might do as i pleased there for two hours, until the _ave maria_ rang, and the doors would be locked. when the librarian had gone with many nods and smiles, i took down these half dozen books and carried them to the table by the window, and until _ave maria_ rang i turned their pages. the volume whose title had especially attracted my attention was a quarto ms., written, i should suppose from the caligraphy, about the end of the sixteenth century; a later hand had appended a summary to each chapter with an appropriate quotation from a psalm. but the book was in a shocking condition, without binding, and contained no more than a fragment. the last page was numbered " ," and the first page+ " ." one hundred and twenty-eight pages, therefore, were certainly lost at the beginning, and i know not how many at the end; but what was left was sufficiently engrossing to hold me standing by the window, until the wrinkled face of the priest looked in again to inform me that unless i wished to sleep in the library, i must be gone at once. on the following morning by nine o'clock i was there again; and, after an interview with the superior, went up again with the keys in my own possession, a quantity of foolscap and a fountain-pen in my hand, and sandwiches in my pocket, to the dusty little room beneath the roof. i repeated this series of actions, with the exception of the interview, every day for a fortnight, and when i returned to england in april i took with me a complete re-translation into english of the "_vita et obitus dni ricardi raynal heremitae_," and it is this re-translation that is now given to the public, with the correction of many words and the addition of notes, carried out during the last eighteen months. * * * * * it is necessary to give some account of the book itself, but i will not trouble my readers with an exhaustive survey of the reasons that have led me to my opinions on the subject: it is enough to say that most of them are to be found in the text. it is the story of the life of one of that large body of english hermits who flourished from about the beginning of the fourteenth century to the middle of the sixteenth; and was written, apparently for the sake of the villagers, by his parish-priest, sir john chaldfield, who seems to have been an amiable, devout, and wordy man, who long outlived his spiritual son. of all the early part of master richard raynal's life we are entirely ignorant, except of the facts that his parents died in his youth, and that he himself was educated at cambridge. no doubt his early history was recorded in the one hundred and twenty-nine pages that are missing at the beginning. it is annoying also that the last pages are gone, for thereby we have lost what would probably have been a very full and exhaustive list of the funeral furniture of the sixteenth century, as well as an account of the procession into the country and the ceremonies observed at the burial. we might have heard, too, with some exactness (for sir john resembles a journalist in his love of detail) about the way in which his friend's fame began to spread, and the pilgrims to journey to his shrine. it would have been of interest to trace the first stages in the unauthorised cult of one as yet uncanonised. what is left of the book is the record of only the last week in master richard's life and of his death under peculiar circumstances at westminster in the bed-chamber of the king. it is impossible to know for certain who was this king, but i am inclined to believe that it was henry vi., the founder of eton college and king's college, cambridge, whose life ended in such tragedy towards the close of the fifteenth century. his queen is not mentioned from beginning to end, and for this and other reasons i am inclined to particularise still more, and conjecture that the period of which the book treats must be prior to the year a.d., when the king married at the age of twenty-three. supposing that these conjectures are right, the cardinal spoken of in the book would be cardinal beaufort, bishop of winchester, and cousin of the king. all this, however, must be doubtful, since the translator of the original english or latin appears to have omitted with scrupulous care the names of all personages occurring in the narrative, with one or two unimportant exceptions. we do not even know in what part of the country sir john chaldfield held his living, but it appears to have been within thirty or forty miles of london. we must excuse the foreign scribe, however; probably the english names were unintelligible and barbarous to his perceptions; and appeared unimportant, too, compared to the interest of the mystical and spiritual experiences recorded in the book. of these experiences it is difficult to write judiciously in this practical age. master richard raynal appears to have been a very curious young man, of great personal beauty, extreme simplicity, and a certain magnetic attractiveness. he believed himself, further, to be in direct and constant communication with supernatural things, and would be set down now as a religious fanatic, deeply tinged with superstition. his parson, too, in these days, would be thought little better, but at the time in which they lived both would probably be regarded with considerable veneration. we hear, in fact, that a chapel was finally erected over master raynal's body, and that pilgrimages were made there; and probably, if the rest of the work had been preserved to us, we should have found a record of miracles wrought at his shrine. all traces, however, of that shrine have now disappeared--most likely under the stern action of henry viii.--and richard's name is unknown to hagiology, in spite of his parson's confidence as regarded his future beatification. it is, however, interesting to notice that in master raynal's religion, as in richard rolle's, hermit of hampole, there appears to have been some of that inchoate quietism which was apt to tinge the faith of a few of the english solitaries. he was accustomed to attend mass devoutly and to receive the sacraments, and on his death-bed was speeded into the next world, at his own desire, by all the observances prescribed by the catholic church. his attitude, too, towards the priesthood, is somewhat uncharacteristic of his fellows, who were apt to boast with apparent complacency that they were neither "monk, friar, nor clerk." in other matters he is a good type of that strange race of solitaries who swarmed in england at that time, who were under no vows, but served god as it pleased them, not hesitating to go among their fellows from time to time if they thought themselves called to it, who were looked upon with veneration or contempt, according to the opinion formed of them by their observers, but who, at any rate, lived a simple and wholesome life, and were to some extent witnesses to the existence of a supernatural power at whose bidding (so they believed) they were summoned to celibacy, seclusion, labour, and prayer. it is curious also to trace through sir john's fanciful eyes the parallels between the sufferings of master richard and those of christ. of course, no irreverence is intended. i should imagine that, if sir john were put on his defence, he would say that the life of every true christian must approximate to the life of christ so far as his spirit is identified with the divine spirit, and that this is occasionally fulfilled even in minute details. it is unnecessary to add much more in this introduction--(for the story will tell its own tale)--beyond saying that the re-translation of the french fragment into english has been to me a source of considerable pleasure. i have done my best to render it into the english of its proper period, including even its alliterations, while avoiding needless archaisms and above all arbitrary spelling. but no doubt i am guilty of many solecisms. i have attempted also to elucidate the text by a number of footnotes, in which i have explained whatever seemed to call for it, and have appended translations to the numerous latin quotations in which sir john indulges after the manner of his time. i must apologise for these footnotes--(such are always tiresome)--but i could think of no other way by which the text could be made clear. they can always be omitted without much loss by the reader who has no taste for them. sir john's style is a little difficult sometimes, especially when he treats in detail of his friend's mystical experience, but he has a certain power of word-painting (unusual at his date) in matters both of nature and of grace, and it is only when he has been unduly trite or obscure that i have ventured, with a good deal of regret, to omit his observations. all such omissions, however, as well as peculiar difficulties of statement or allusion, have been dealt with in foot-notes. with regard to the function of the book, at any rate since its first translation into french, it is probably safe to conjecture that it may have been used at one time for reading aloud in the refectory. i am led to make this guess from observing its division into chapters, and the quasi-texts appended to each. these texts are of all sorts, though all are taken from the book of psalms; but their application to the matter that follows is sometimes fanciful, frequently mystical, and occasionally trite. if the book receives any sympathy from english readers--(an eventuality about which i have my doubts)--i shall hope, at some future date, to edit others of the mss. still reposing in the little room under the roof between the _piazza navona_ and the _piazza colonna_ in rome, to which i have been generously promised free access. i must express my gratitude to the superior of the order of ---- (to whose genius, coupled with that of another, i dedicate this book), for giving me permission to edit his ms.; to dom robert maple, o.s.b., for much useful information and help in regard to the english mystics; and to mme. germain who has verified references, interpreted difficulties, and assisted me by her encouragement. robert benson. cambridge, feast of ss. peter and paul, . how sir john visited master hermit: and found him in contemplation _protexit me in abscondito tabernaculi sui._ he hath protected me in the secret place of his tabernacle. --ps. xxvi. . i [the ms. begins abruptly at the top of the page.] ... it was at vespers on the fourth day afterwards, being corpus christi, that saint giles, as i suppose, moved me to visit master richard. so i put on my cap again, and took my furred gown, for i thought it would be cold before i came home; and set out through the wood. i was greatly encouraged by the beauty of the light as i went down; the sun shone through the hazels on my right, and the roof of leaves was a fair green over my head; and to right and left lay a carpet of flowers as blue as the flanders' glass above the altar. i had learnt from master richard, though he was thirty years my younger, many beautiful lessons, and one of them that god's majesty speaks to us by the works of his almighty hands. so when i saw the green light and the gold and the blue, and the little flies that made merry in the way, i took courage. at the lower end of the wood, as you know, the path falls down steeply towards the stream, and when it has left the wood there are meadows to right and left, that were bright with yellow flowers at this time. in front the stream runs across the road under hazels, and where the chapel is still a-building over his body, on the left side, with its back against the wood stood his little house. i will tell you of all this, as i saw it then; for the pilgrims have trampled it all about now, and the stream is all befouled and the banks broken, and the trees cut down by the masons that came to make the second chapel where master richard was wont to bathe himself, against the fiend's temptations at first, and afterwards for cleanness' sake, too--(for i never heard of a hermit as cleanly as was this young man, soon, and in spite of his washings, by the prayers of our lady and saint giles, to be declared among the blessed servants of god.) the meadow was a fair circle of grass; with trees on every side but on this where the gate stood. it sloped to the stream that ran shallow over the stones, and down across it from the cell to the pool lay the path trampled hard by master richard's feet; for he had lived there four years at this time since his coming from cambridge. besides this path there was another that circled the meadow, and it was on this that he walked with god. i have seen him there sometimes from the gate, with his hands clasped, fingers to fingers, and his eyes open but seeing nothing; and if it had not been for the sin in my soul (on which god have pity!) i might have seen, too, the heavenly company that often went with him and of which he told me. before the hut lay a long garden-bed, in which the holy youth grew beans in their season, and other vegetables at other times; for it was on these, with nuts from the hazelwood, and grasses of which i know not the names (though he has told me of them many times), with water from the stream, that he sustained his life. on either side of the hut stood a great may-tree; it was on account of these that he had built his little house here, for he knew the properties and divine significations of such things. the house itself was of wattles, plastered with mud from the brook, and thatched with straw. there was a door of wood that he leaned against the opening on this side when he prayed, but not when he slept, and a little square window high up upon the other side that looked into the green wood. it is of that same door that saint giles' new altar was made, for the house fell down after his going, and the wind blew about the mud and the sticks, and the pilgrims have now carried all away. i took the door myself, when i came back and had seen him go through the heavenly door to our lord. the house within was a circle, three strides across, with a domed roof like a bee-hive as high as a man at the sides and half as high again in the centre. on the left lay his straw for a bed, and above it on the wall the little square of linen that he took afterwards with him to london, worked with the five precious wounds of our saviour. on the right hand side was a wooden stool where he sat sometimes to pray and on the wall against it a little press that held some bottles within, and in another shelf some holy relics that are now in the church, and in another his six books; and above, upon the top, a little cross with our lord upon it, very rude; for he said that the eyes of the soul should not be hindered by the eyes of the body, and that our lord showed himself often to him more clearly and truly than a craftsman could make him. above the window was a little figure of the mother of god, set there, he told me, above the sight of the green wood, because she was the mother of all living, and had restored what eve had spoiled. i cannot tell you, my children, of the peace of this place. the little house, and indeed the whole circle of the meadow set about with trees, was always to me as a mansion in paradise. there were no sounds here but the song of the birds and the running of the water and the wind in the trees; and no sight of any other world but this, except in winter when the hill over against the hut showed itself through the branches not three hundred paces away. on all other sides the woods rose to the sky. i think that the beasts knew the peace of the place. i have seen often a stag unafraid watching master richard as he dug or walked on his path; the robins would follow him, and the little furry creatures sit round him with ears on end. and he told me, too, that never since he had come to the place had blood fallen on the ground except his own when he scourged himself. the hunting-weasel never came here, though the conies were abundant; the stags never fought here though there was a fair ground for a battlefield. it was a peace that passed understanding, and what that peace is the apostle tells us. here i came then on corpus christi evening, thirty years ago, as the sun was near its setting behind the gate through which i came, and my shadow lay half-across the meadow before me. * * * * * it appeared to me that somewhat was amiss, but i knew not what it was: i was a little afraid. master richard was not to be seen, but his door was wide, so i thought he would not be praying. as i came up the path i saw something that astonished me. there was a circle of beasts about the hut, little conies that sat in the sunlight and shadow, without feeding, though it was the time for it; and as i came nearer i saw other beasts. there was a wild cat crouched in the shadow of the hazels moving his tail from side to side; a stag with his two does stood beneath a beech-tree, and a boar looked over the bank against which stood the hut. they did not move as i came up and looked in at the door. this is what i saw within. the holy youth was seated on his stool with his hands gripping the sides and his eyes open, and he was looking towards the image of our saviour on the right-hand side. you have seen his holy and uncorrupt body, but in life he was different to that. he was not above twenty years old at this time, and of a beauty that drew men's eyes to him. [this is the exact phrase used of richard rolle, hermit of hampole.] his hair was as you know it; a straight, tawny, nut-brown head of hair that fell to his shoulders; and he had the cleanest line of face that ever i have seen. his hair came low upon his straight forehead; his nose was straight, with fine nostrils; he had a little upper lip on which grew no hair, a full lip beneath very short, and a round cleft chin; his eyebrows were dark and arched; his whole face smooth and thin, and of an extraordinary clean paleness; he had a curved throat turned to a pale brown by the sun, though the colour of his body, i have heard it said, was as white as milk. he was dressed always in a white kirtle beneath, and a brown sleeveless frock over it of the colour of his hair, that came to his ankles, and was girt with a leather band. he went barefoot, but carried a great hat on his shoulders when he walked. he moved slowly at such times, and bore himself upright. his hands were fine and slender, and were burned brown like his face and his throat. i tell you that i have never seen such a wonderful beauty in mortal man; and his soul was yet more lovely. it is no wonder that god's majesty delighted in him, and that the saints came to walk with him. he was like neither man nor woman. he had the grey eyes of a woman, the mouth and chin of a man, the hands of a matron, and the figure of a strong virgin. i was always a little man, as you know, and when i walked with him, as i did sometimes, the top of my cap came just beneath his ear. master richard, as i have said, was seated now on his stool, with his knees together, and his hands gripping the sides of his seat. his chin was a little thrust out, and he was as still as a stock. this i knew, was the manner in which sometimes he entered into strong contemplation; and i knew, too, that he would neither hear me nor see me till he moved. so i watched him a moment or two, and i grew yet more afraid as i watched; for this is what i saw: down from his temples across his cheeks ran little drops of sweat on to his brown frock, and that though it was a cool evening, and his spade was hung on its peg beneath the window. (it was the spade that you have seen in the church with a cross-handle polished by his holy hands.) i looked for a while, and i grew yet more afraid. it seemed to me that there was somewhat in the cell that i could not see. i looked up at the window but there was nothing there but the still green hazel leaves; i looked at his bed, at the smooth mud walls and floor, at the domed roof, and, through the hole in the centre, where the smoke escaped when he made a fire, i could see leaves again and the evening sky. yet the place was full of something; there was something of energy or conflict, i knew not which: some person was striving there. then i was suddenly so much afraid that i dared not stay, and i went back again along the path, and walked at the lower end of the meadow beside the stream. of the word from god that came to master hermit: and of his setting out _vias tuas, domine, demonstra mihi: et semitas tuas educe me._ shew, o lord, thy ways to me: and teach me thy paths.--_ps. xxiv. ._ ii there are, as you have learned from me, and i from master richard raynal, a trinity of natures in man. there is that by which he has to do with the things of matter--his five wits; that by which he has to do with god almighty and the saints--his immortal soul and her powers; and, for the last, that by which he has to do with men--his lower understanding, his mind, his power of speech, and the like. each nature has its proper end, though each ministers to the other. with his ears he hears god's word, with his immortal soul he perceives god almighty in what is seen with the eyes; with his understanding he comprehends the nature of flowers and the proper time to sow or reap. this trinity may be devoted to god or the fiend.... it is not true, as some have said, that it is only with the soul that god is perceived or served, and that the other two are unclean. we may serve god by digging with the hands, by talking friendly with our neighbour, and by the highest of all which is contemplation. this is what master richard did, following the victorines but not altogether. he strove to serve god alike in all, and i count his life, therefore, the highest that i have ever known. he said that to dig, to talk over the gate with a neighbour, and to contemplate the divine essence, were all alike to serve god. he counted none wasted, for god almighty had made the trinity of natures in his own image, and intended, therefore, a proper occupation for each. to refuse to dig or to talk was not to honour contemplation; and this he said, though he said besides that some could not do this through reason of finding that one distracted the other. i count, however, that his own life was the hardest, for he did all three, and did not suffer one to distract another. the most difficulty of such a life is to know when to follow one and when the other, when to dig, when to speak, and when to contemplate; and he would tell me that for this there are two guides that god almighty sends--the one is that of exterior circumstance, and the other that of an interior knowledge, and he would follow that which cried the louder. if he desired to contemplate and a neighbour came to talk with him; if he perceived the neighbour clearly he would give over his contemplation; if not he would continue to contemplate. again, if the imagination of a spade came mightily before him, or if he remembered that the sun would soon be up and his beans not watered, again he would give over his contemplation and dig or carry water. for this there is needed one thing, and that a firm and quiet simplicity. he would do nothing till his mind was quiet. the friend of god must be as a little child, as the gospel tells us, and when the soul is quiet there is no difficulty in knowing what must be done. the first business then of a solitary's life is to preserve this quiet against the fiend's assaults and disquiet. and, i think, of all that i have ever known, master richard's soul was the most quiet, and most like to the soul of a little child. as i walked now beside the stream i knew very well that it was for this that he was striving in contemplation: the sweat that ran down his cheeks was the sign of the fiend's assault, and i knew that i had done well to come. i had followed, as master richard himself had taught me, that loud interior voice. so i strove to become quiet myself; i signed myself with the cross, and cried softly upon saint giles to pray for me to god's majesty that i might know what to say and do. then i placed myself, as i had learned, at the divine feet; i looked at the yellow flowers and the clear running water and the open sky, and presently i was aware that all was silence within and without me. so i waited and walked softly to and fro, until master richard came to the door of his hut. he stood there for a full minute, i suppose, with the sun on his face and his brown frock and broad white sleeves, before he saw me; for i was in the shadow of the hazels. then he waved his hands a little, and came slowly and very upright down the path in the middle, and as i went towards him i saw the beasts had gone. they were content, i suppose, now that their master was come out. he came down the path, very pale and grave, and knelt as usual for my blessing, which i gave; then he kissed my skirt as he always did with a priest, and stood up. now i will try to tell you all that he said as he said it. * * * * * we went together without speaking, to the hut, and he brought out the stool into the sunlight and made me sit upon it, and sat himself upon the ground beneath me, with his hands clasped about his knee, and his bare feet drawn beneath him. i could see no more of him but his brown hair and his throat, and his strong shoulders bent forward. then he began to speak. his voice was always grave and steady. "i am glad you are come, sir john; i have something to ask you. i do not know what to do. i will tell you all." i said nothing, for i knew what he wished; so i looked down across the meadow at the hazels and the pigeons that were coming down to the wood, and desired saint giles to tell me what to say. "it is this," he said. "four days ago i was in contemplation, down there by the stream. the sensible warmth of which i have told you was in my heart; as it has been for over one year now, ever since i passed from the way of illumination. i think that it had never been so clear and strong. it was our lord who was with me, and i perceived him within as he always shows himself to me; i cannot tell you what he is like, but there were roses on his hands and feet, and above his heart and about his head. i have not often perceived him so clearly. his mother, i knew, was a little distance away, behind me, and i wondered why it was so, and the divine john was with her. then i understood that he was lonely, but no more than that: i did not know why. i said what i could, and then i listened, but he said nothing to me, and then, after a while, i understood that it was under another aspect that he was there; that there was one in his place, crowned with gold instead of roses, and i could not understand it. i was astonished and troubled by that, and the warmth was not so strong at my heart. "then he was gone; and i saw the stream again beneath me, and the leaves overhead, and there was sweat on my forehead. "when i stood up there was a knowledge in my heart--i do not know whether from our lord or the fiend--that i must leave this place, and go to one whom i thought must be the king with some message; but i do not know the message." * * * * * my children, it was a dreadful thing to hear that. he had never spoken so since his coming four years before, except once when he was in the purgative way, and the fiend came to him under aspect of a woman. but he had been in agony then, and he was quiet now. before i could speak he spoke again. "i said that i could not go; that god almighty had brought me here and caused me to build my house and given me the meadow and the water and the beasts as my friends--that i was neither monk nor friar nor priest to be sent hither and thither--that i could not go. i cried on him to help me and shew me his will; and then i went to dinner. "since that time, sir john, the warmth has left me. i see the flowers, but there is nothing behind them; and the sunlight, but there is no heavenly colour in it. my mind is disquiet; i cannot rest nor contemplate as i should. i have been up the stairs that i have told you of a thousand times; i have set myself apart from the world, which is the first step, until all things visible have gone; then i have set myself apart from my body and my understanding so that i was conscious of neither hands nor heart nor head, nor of aught but my naked soul; then i have left that, which is the third step; but the gate is always shut, and our lord will not speak or answer. tell me what i must do, sir john. is it true that this is from our lord, and that i must go to see the king?" * * * * * i was sick at heart when i heard that, and i strove to silence what my soul told me must be my answer. "it has persevered ever since, my son richard," i said? he bowed his head. "there is no savour in anything to me until i go," he answered. "this morning as i looked from over the wall upon the sacrament, my eyes were blinded: i saw nothing but the species of bread. i was forced to rest upon the assent of my faith." again i attempted to silence what my soul told me. it was the very power that master richard had taught me to use that was turning against what i desired. i had not known until then how much i loved this quiet holy lad with grave eyes--not until i thought i should lose him. "there is no sin," i said, "that has darkened your eyes?" i saw him smile sideways at that, and he turned his head a little. "my sins are neither blacker nor whiter than they have always been," he said; "you know them all, my father." "and you wish to leave us?" i cried. he unclasped his hands and laid one on my knee. i was terrified at its purity, but his face was turned away, and he said nothing. i had never heard the wood at that time of the evening so silent as it was then. it was the time when, as the lax monks say, the birds say mattins (but the strict observants call it compline), but there was neither mattins nor compline then in the green wood. it was all in a great hush, and the shadows from the trees fifty paces away had crept up and were at our feet. then he spoke again. "tell me what your soul tells you," he said. i put my hand on his brown head; i could not speak. then he rose at once, and stood smiling and looking on me, and the sunlight made a splendour in his hair, as it were his heavenly crown. "thank you, my father," he said, though i had not spoken one word. then he turned and went into the hut, and left me to look upon the green woods through my tears, and to listen to a mavis that had begun to sing in one of the may-trees. i knew he was gone to make ready. * * * * * the sun had quite gone down before he came out again, and the shadows were like a veil over the land; only the yellow flowers burned hot like candle flames before me. he had four books in his hand and a little bottle, his hat on his shoulders, and the wooden sandals on his feet that he had worn to walk in four years before when he came to us. his little linen picture of the five wounds was fastened over his breast with thorns. he carried across his arm the second white-sleeved kirtle that he had, and his burse was on his girdle. he held out two of the books to me. "these are for you, my father," he said; "the book of hours and the _regula heremitarum_ i shall take with me, and all the rest of the mobills and the two other books i shall leave at our lord's disposal, except the bottle of quintessence." i took the two books and looked at them. there was master hoveden's _philomela_, and a little book he had made on quinte essence. "but you will need them!" i cried. "i carry _philomela_ in my heart," he said, "and as for the quinte essence i shall have enough if i need it, and here is the bottle that holds that that has been made of blood.--the fifth--being of gold and silver i have not. _argentum et aurum non est mihi_." ["silver and gold i have none." (acts iii. .)] (that was the little bottle that i have told you of before. it was distilled of his own blood, according to the method of hermes trismegistus.) "if i do not return," he said, "i bequeath all to you; and i wish six masses to be said; the first to be sung, of _requiem_; the second of the five wounds; the third of the assumption; the fourth of all martyrs with a special memory of saint christopher; the fifth of all confessors with a special memory of saint anthony, hermit, and saint giles, abbot; the sixth of all virgins with a special memory of saint agnes." you understand, my children, that he knew what would come to him, and that he had foreseen all; he spoke as simply as one who was going to another village only, looking away from me upon the ground. (i was glad of that.) i begged of him to bid good-bye to his meadow. "i will not;" he said, "i bear it with me wherever i go." then he took me by the arm, carrying his shod staff in his other hand, and led me to the gate, for i was so blinded that i stumbled as i went. once only did i speak as we passed upwards through the dark wood. "and what will be your message," i asked, "when you come to the king?" "our lord will tell it me when i come thither," he said. we went through the village that lay dark and fast asleep. i wished him to go to some of the houses, and bid the folks good-bye, but he would not. "i bear them, too, wherever i go," he said. after we had adored god almighty in the church, [that is, god present in the blessed sacrament.] and i had shriven the young man and blessed him, we went out and stood under the lychgate where his body afterwards rested. it was a clear night of stars and as silent as was once heaven for the space of half-an-hour. the philomels had given over their singing near a month before, and it was not the season for stags to bray; and those, as you know, are the principal sounds that we hear at night. we stood a long time listening to the silence. i knew well what was in my heart, and i knew presently what was in his. he was thinking on his soul. he turned to me after a while, and i could see the clear pallour of his face and the line of his lips and eyes all set in his heavy hair. "do you know the tale of the persian king, sir john?" i told him no; he had many of such tales. i do not know where he had read them. "there was once a king who had the open eyes, and he looked into heaven and hell. he saw there two friends whom he had known in the flesh; the one was a hermit, and the other another king. the hermit was in hell, and the king in heaven. when he asked the reason of this, one told him that the hermit was in hell because of his consorting with the king, and the king in heaven because of his consorting with the hermit." i understood him, but i said nothing. "pray for me then, sir john," said master richard. then we kissed one another, and he was gone without another word along the white road. how master richard fared: how he heard mass in saint pancras' church: how he came to westminster: and of his colloquy with the ankret _abyssus abyssum invocat: in voce cataractarum tuarum_. deep calleth on deep: at the noise of thy flood-gates.--_ps. xli. ._ iii the tale of his journey and of his coming to london he told me when i saw him again at the end. he spoke to me for over an hour, and i think that i have remembered near every word, but i cannot write down the laughter and the tears that were in his voice as he told me. as he went along the road beneath the trees and the stars, carrying his kirtle, with his books and other things in his burse, and his hat on his shoulders, he was both happy and sorry. there are two kinds of happiness for mortal men: there is that which is carnal and imperfect and hangs on circumstances and the health of the body and such like things; and there is that which is spiritual and perfect, which hangs on nothing else than the doing of the will of god almighty so far as it is known, so that a man may have both at once, or either without the other. master richard had the one without the other. at first he could not bear to think of what he had left behind him--his little quiet house and meadow and the stream where he washed, and the beasts and men that loved him; and he threw himself upon the other happiness for strength. by the time that he had arrived at the ford he was so much penetrated by this better joy that he was able to look back, and tell himself, as he had told me, that he bore with him always wherever he went all that he had left behind him. it was ever his doctrine that we lose nothing of what is good and sweet in the past, and that we suck out of all things a kind of essence that abides with us always, and that every soul that loves is a treasure-house of all that she has ever loved. it is only the souls that do not love that go empty in this world and _in saecula saeculorum_. he thought much of this on his road, and by the time that he had come so far that he thought it best to sleep by the wayside, the warmth had come back that had left him for four days. he went aside then out of the road to find a hazel thicket, and by the special guidance of god found one with a may-tree beside it. there he groped together the dead leaves, took off his burse and his hat and his girdle and his brown habit, and laid the habit upon the leaves, unpinning the five wounds, and fastening them again upon his white kirtle. then he knelt down by the may-tree, and said his prayers, beginning as he always did: _"totiens glorior, quotiens nominis tui, jesu, recordor."_ ["i glory, so often as i remember thy name, jesu."] then he repeated the name an hundred times, and his heart grew so hot and the sweetness in his month so piercing that he could scarce go on. then he committed himself to the tuition of the glorious mother of christ, and to that of saint christopher, saint anthony, hermit, and saint agnes, virgin, and lastly to that of saint giles and saint denis, remembering me. then he said compline with _paternoster, avemaria_, and _credo_, signed himself with the cross, and lay down on his kirtle--_specialissimus_, darling of god--and drew the second kirtle over his body for fear of the dews and the night vapours; and so went to sleep, striving not to think of where he had slept last night. (he told me all this, as i have told you.) he awoke at dawn in an extraordinary sweetness within and without, and as he walked in his white habit beneath the solemn beech-trees, his soul opened wide to salute the light that rose little by little, pouring down on him through the green roof. the air was like clear water, he said, running over stories, brightening without concealing their colours; and he drank it like wine. he had that morning in his contemplation what came to him very seldom, and i do not know if i can describe it, but he said it was the sense that the air he breathed was the essence of god, that ran shivering through his veins, and dropped like sweet myrrh from his fingers. there was the savour of it on his lips, piercing and delicate, and in his nostrils. he set out a little later after he had washed, following the road, and came to a timber chapel standing by itself. i do not know which it is, but i think it must have been the church of saint pancras that was burned down six years after. the door was locked, but he sat to wait, and after an hour came a priest in his gown to say mass. the priest looked at him, but answered nothing to his good-day (there be so many of these idle solitaries about that feign to serve god, but their heart is in the belly). i do not blame the priest; it may be he had been deceived often before. there was a fellow who answered the mass, and master richard knelt by himself at the end of the church. when mass was over the two others went out without a word, leaving him there. he said _ad sextam_ then, and was setting out once more when the priest came back with a jug of ale and a piece of meat and bread which he offered him, telling him he would have given him nothing if he had begged. master richard refused the meat and the ale, and took the bread. the priest asked him his business, and he said he was for london to see the king. the priest asked him whether he would speak with the king, and he told him yes if our lord willed. "and what have you to say to him?" asked the priest. "i do not know," said master richard. the priest looked at him, and said something about a pair of fools, but master richard did not understand him then, for he had not heard yet the tale that the king was mad or near it. so he kissed the priest's skirt, and asked his blessing; then he went down the steps to the little holy well (which makes me think it to be saint pancras's church) and drank a little water after signing himself with it and commending himself to the saint, and went on his way. the sun was now high and hot, but he told me that when he looked back at the turn of the path the priest was at the gate in the full sun staring after him. of his journey that day there is not much to relate. he went by unfrequented ways, walking sedately as his manner was, with devotion in his heart. an hour before noon a woman gave him dinner as she came back from taking it to her husband who burned charcoal in the forest, and asked him a kiss for payment when he had done his meal, sitting on a tree, with her standing by and looking upon him all the while. but he told her that he was a solitary, and that he had kissed no woman but his mother, who had died ten years before, so she appeared content, though she still looked upon him. then as he stood up, thanking her for the dinner, she caught his hand and kissed that, and he reproved her gently and went on his way again. for many miles after that it was the same; he saw no man, but only the beasts now and then, walking beneath the high branches in the sylvan twilight, over the dead leaves and the fern, and seeing now and again, as he expressly told me, for it seemed he had some lesson from it, the hot light that danced in the open spaces to right and left. he saw one strange sight, which i should not have believed if he had not told me, and that was a ring of bulls in a clearing that tossed something this way and that, one to the other: he drove them off, and found that it was a hare, not yet dead, but it died in his hands. he told me that this verse came to his mind as he laid the poor beast down under a tree; _circumdederunt me vituli multi: tauri pingues obsederunt me_, ["many calves have surrounded me: fat bulls have besieged me" (ps. xxi. )] and there is no wonder in that, for it is from a psalm of the passion, and it was what befell him afterwards, as you shall hear. soon after that he bathed himself in a pool, for he was hot with walking, and desired to be at his ease when he saw folk again; and he dipped his sandals, too, to cool them. then he went in his white kirtle a little, until his hair was dried, and when the heat of the day began to turn he was aware that he was coming near to a village, for there was a herd of pigs that looked on him without fear. the village was a very little one, but it stood upon a road, and here he had his first sight of the town-folks, for as he rested by a gate a company of fellows went by from the wars. i suppose that they were lately come from france (maybe from arfleet [that is, harfleur]), for he told me that there were pavissors among them--the men with the great shields called pavices which are used only in sieges from the wooden castles that they push against the walls of the town. they were stained with travel, too, and were very silent and peevish. there were all sorts there besides the pavissors--the men-at-arms in their plate and mail-shirts, the archers in their body-armour and aprons, and the glaivemen [glaives were a kind of pike, but with long carved cutting-blades. bills had straight blades.] with the rest. he said that one company that rode in front had the sign of the ragged staff upon their breasts, by which he learned afterwards that they were my lord warwick's men. [the ragged staff was the emblem of lord warwick.] one cried out to him to know how far was it to london, but he shook his head and said that he was a stranger. the fellow jeered and named him bumpkin, but the rest said nothing, and looked on him as they passed, and two at the end doffed their caps. they were about two hundred, and one rode in front with a banner borne before him; but it was a still hot day, and master richard could not see the device, for the folds hung about the staff. he saw other folks after that here and there, although he avoided the villages where he could; but he got no supper, and an hour before sunset he came to the ferry over against westminster. the wherries were drawn up on the beach, and he came down to these past lambeth house, wondering how he was to get over. he besought one man for the love of jesu to take him over, but he would not; and another for the love of mary, and a third for the sake of the rood of bromholm, [a famous relic of the true cross.] and a fourth for the love of saint anthony. and at that they laughed at him, coming round him and looking on him curiously, and crying that they would have all the saints out of him before _avemaria_, and asking to know his business. when he told them in his simplicity that he was to see the king, they laughed the more, and said that the king was gone to be a monk at saint edmond's, and that he had best look for him there. then he asked yet another, a great fellow with a hairy face and chest, to take him over for the love of saint denis and saint giles, and the fellow swore a great oath, elbowed his way out of the press that were all staring and laughing, and bade him follow. so he got into the boat and sat there while the man carried down the oars, and all the rest crowded to look and question and mock. he told me that he supposed at the time that all the folks looked at him for that they were not used to see solitaries, but i do not think it was that. i tell you that one who looked a little on master richard would look long, and that one who looked long must either laugh or weep, so surprising was his beauty and his simplicity. * * * * * when they were half-way over the fellow told him which was the abbey church, and master richard said that he knew it, for that he had seen it four years before when he came under our lord's hand from cambridge, and that he would ask shelter from the monks. "and there is an ankret [an ankret was a solitary, confined to one cell with episcopal ceremonies.], is there not?" asked master richard. the man told him yes, looking upon him curiously, and he told him, too, where was his cell. then he put him on shore without a word, save asking for his prayers. i cannot tell you how master richard came to the ankret's cell, for i was only at westminster once when master richard went to his reward, but he found his way there, marvelling at the filth of the ways, and looked in through the little window, drawing himself up to it by the strength of his arms. it was all dark within, he told me, and a stench as of a kennel came up from the darkness. he called out to the holy man, holding his nostrils with one hand, and with the other gripping the bars and sitting sideways on the sill of the window. he got no answer at first, and cried again. then there came an answer. there rose out of the darkness a face hung all over with hair and near as black as the hair, with red-rimmed eyes that oozed salt rheum. the holy man asked him what he wished, and why did he hold his nostrils. "i wish to speak with your reverence," said master richard, "of high things. i hold my nostrils for that i cannot abide a stench." the red eyes winked at that. "i find no stench," said the holy man. "for that you are the origin of its propagation," said master richard, "and dwell in the midst of it." it was foolish, i think, of the sweet lad to speak like that, but he was an-angered that a man should live so. but the holy solitary was not an-angered. "and in god's majesty is the origin of my propagation," he said. "_ergo_." master richard could think of no seemly answer to that, and he desired, too, to speak of high matters; so he let it alone, and told the holy man his business, and where he lived. "tell me, my father," he said, "what is the message that i bear to the king. it may be that our lord has revealed it to you: he has not yet revealed it to me." "are you willing to go dumb before the king?" "i am willing if god will," said master richard. "are you willing that the king should be deaf and dumb to your message?" "if god will," said master richard again. "what is that which you bear on your breast?" "it is the five wounds, my father." "tell me of your life. are you yet in the way of perfection?" then the two solitaries talked together a long while; i could not understand all that master richard told to me; and i think there was much that he did not tell me, but it was of matters that i am scarce worthy to name, of open visions and desolations, and the darkness of the fourth word of our saviour on the rood; and again of scents and sounds and melodies such as those of which master rolle has written; and above all of charity and its degrees, for without charity all the rest is counted as dung. _avemaria_ rang at sunset, but they did not hear it, and at the end the holy man within crept nearer and raised himself. "i must see your face, brother," he said. "it may be then that i shall know the message that your soul bears to the king." master richard came out of his heavenly swoon then, and saw the face close to his own, and what he said of it to me i dare not tell you, but he bitterly reproached himself that he had ever doubted whether this were a man of god or no. as he turned his own face this way and that, that the failing light might fall upon it, he said that beneath him in the little street there was a crowd assembled, all silent and watching the heavenly colloquy. when he looked again, questioning, at the holy old man, he saw that the other's face was puckered with thought and that his lips pouted through the long-falling hair. then it disappeared, and a grunting voice came out of the dark, but the sound of it was as if the old man wept. "i do not know the message, brother. our lord has not shewed it to me, but he has shewed me this--that soon you will not need to wear his wounds. that i have to say. _oremus pro invicem._" ["let us pray for one another."] * * * * * the crowd pressed close upon master richard as he came down from the window, and, going in the midst of them in silence, he came to saint peter's gate where the black monks dwell, and was admitted by the porter. how master richard saw the king in westminster hall: and of the mass at saint edward's altar _revelabit condensa: et in templo ejus omnes dicent gloriam._ he will discover the thick woods: and in his temple all shall speak his glory.--_ps. xxviii. ._ iv master richard did not tell me a great deal of his welcome in the monastery: i think that he was hardly treated and flouted, for the professed monks like not solitaries except those that be established in reputation; they call them self-willed and lawless and pretending to a sanctity that is none of theirs. such as be under obedience think that virtue the highest of all and essential to the way of perfection. and i think, perhaps, they were encouraged in this by what had been said of themselves by our holy lord ten years before, for he was ever a favourer of monks. [this may have been eugenius iv., called _gloriosus_. if so, it would fix the date of richard at about .] but master richard did not blame them, so i will not, but i know that he was given no cell to be private in, but was sent to mix with the other guests in the common guest-house. i know not what happened there, but i think there was an uproar; there was a wound upon his head, the first wound that he received in the house of his friends, that i saw on him a little later, and he told me he had had it on his first coming to london. it was such a wound as a flung bone or billet of wood might make. he had now the _caput vulneratum_, as well as the _cor vulneratum_ [wounded head ... wounded heart.] of the true lover of jesus christ. * * * * * he desired, after his simplicity, on the following morning, to speak with my lord abbot, but that could not be, and he only saw my lord at terce before mass, afar off sitting in his stall, a great prelate with his chain, and with one who bore a silver wand to go before him and do him service. he prayed long in the church and at the shrine, and heard four or five masses, and saw the new grave of the queen in the midst of the lady-chapel [this may have been queen katharine, whose body was afterwards moved.], and did his devotions, hoping that our lord would show him what to speak to the king, and then went to dinner, and after dinner set out to westminster hall, where he was told that the king could be seen that day. he passed through the little streets that lay very nastily, no better than great gutters with all the filth of the houses poured out there, but he said that the folks there were yet more surprising, for these were they who had taken sanctuary here, and were dwelling round the monastery with their wives and children. there were all sorts there, slayers of men and deer, thieves, strikers of the clergy _suadente diabolo_ ["at the devil's persuasion"--a technical phrase], false-coiners, harlots, and rioters; all under the defence of religion, and not suffered to go out but on peril of being taken. he had a little company following him by the time that he came to the gate, some mocking and some silent, and all looking on him as he went. when he came to the door of the hall the men that stood there would not let him in until he entreated them. they told him that the king was now going to dinner, and that the time was past, so he knew that it was not yet his hour to give the message that he knew not. but they let him in at last, and he stood in the crowd to see the king go by. there was a great company there, and a vast deal of noise, for the audiences were done, and the bill-men were pushing the folks with their weapons to make room for the great men to go by, and the heralds were crying out. master richard stood as well as he could, but he was pushed and trampled about, and he could not see very well. they went by in great numbers; he saw their hats and caps and their furred shoulders between the crooked glaives that were gilded to do honour to the king, but there was such a crying out on all sides that he could not ask which was the king. at last the shouting grew loud and then quiet, and men bowed down on all sides; and he saw the man whom he knew must be the king. he had a long face (as i saw for myself afterwards), rather sallow, with a long straight nose and small, full mouth; his eyebrows were black and arched high, and beneath them his sorrowful eyes looked out on the people; he was bowing his head courteously as he came. on his head he wore a black peaked cap of velvet; there was ermine at his collar and a gold chain lay across his shoulders. now this is what master richard saw with the eyes of his body, but with the eyes of his soul he saw something so strange that i know not how to name or explain it. he told me that it was our saviour whom he saw go by between the gilded glaives, as he was when he went from herod's hall. i do not understand how this may be. the king wore no beard as did our saviour, he was full fourteen years younger at that time than was jesu christ when he suffered his bitter passion. they were of a height, i suppose, and perhaps the purple that the king wore was of the same colour as that which our lord had put on him, but that was all the likeness that ever i could see, for the king's hair was black and his complexion sallow, but our lord's was corn colour, and his face white and ruddy. [a reference, i suppose, to cant. cant. v. .] and, again, the one was but a holy man, and the other god almighty although made man for our salvation. yet perhaps i did not understand master richard aright, and that he meant something else and that it was only to the eyes of the soul that the resemblance lay. if this is so, then i think i understand what it was that he saw, though i cannot explain it to you, any more than could he to me. there be some matters so high that no mouth can tell them, heart only can speak to heart, but i can tell you this, that master richard did not mean that our lord was in the hall that day as he is in heaven and in the sacrament of the altar; it was something else that he meant.... [there follows a doctrinal disquisition.] * * * * * when master richard came out from the hall, he told me that he was in a kind of swoon, but having his eyes open, and that he knew not how he came back to the guest-house. it was not until he knocked upon the door that he saw that the crowd was about him again, staring on him silently. the porter was peevish as he pulled him in, and bade him go and cut wood in the wood-house for his keep, so all that afternoon he toiled in his white kirtle at the cutting with another fellow who cursed as he cut, but was silent after a while. yet, when supper and bed-time came and master richard had assisted at compline in the abbey-church, still he knew not what the message was to be on monday, when he would see the king and speak with him. on sunday he did no servile work, except that he waited upon the guests, girt with an apron, and washed the dishes afterwards. he heard four masses that day, as well as all the hours, and prayed by himself a long while at saint edward's shrine, hearing the folks go by to the tilting, and that night he went to bed with the servants, still ignorant of what he should say on the next day. i am sure that he was not at all disquieted by his treatment, for he did not speak of it to me, except what was necessary, and he blamed no one. when i saw the porter afterwards he told me nothing except that master richard had worked well and willingly, and had asked for other tasks when his were done. he had asked, too, for a plenty of water to bathe himself, which he did not get. but whether he were disquieted or no on that sunday, at least he was content next day, for it was on the next day at mass that our lord told him what was the message that he was to deliver to the king. there was a cluniac monk from france who had obtained leave to say mass at the shrine of the confessor, and master richard followed him and his fellow to the altar at five o'clock in the morning to hear mass there and see his maker. [this is the common mediaeval phrase. men did not then bow their heads at the elevation.] he knelt down against the wall behind the high altar, and began to address himself to devotion, but he was distracted at first by the splendour of the tomb, the porphyry and the glass-work below, that master peter the roman had made, and the precious shrine of gold above where the body lay, and the golden statues of the saints on either side. all about him, too, were such marvels that there is little wonder that he could not pray well for thinking on them--the kings that lay here and there and their effigies, and the paved steps on this side and that, and the fair painted glass and the high dark roof. near where he knelt, too, he could see the great relic-chest, and knew what lay therein--the girdle of our blessed lady herself, mirror of chastity; the piece of stone marked by christ's foot as he went up to heaven; a piece of the very rood on which he hanged; the precious blood that he shed there, in a crystal vase; the head of saint benet, father of monks. [surely not!] all these things have i seen, too, myself, so i know that they are truly there. behind him, as he kneeled on the stones, sounded the singing of the monks, and the noise of so much praise delighted him, but they ended soon, and at _sanctus_ his spirit began to be rapt into silence, and the holy things to make heaven about him. he told me that he did not know what befell him until it came to the elevation of the sacring: only he knew that his soul was filled with lightness and joyousness, as when he had walked in the wood at dawn three days before. but as he lifted up his hands to see his god and to beat upon his breast, it appeared to him, he said, as if his feet rested again on some higher place: until then he had been neither on earth nor in heaven. now there was no visible imagination that came to him then; he said expressly that it was not so. there was none to be seen there but the priest in the vestment with his hood on his shoulders, and the _frater conversus_ [that is, the lay brother.] who held the skirt and shook the bell. only it appeared to him that the priest held up the body for a great space, and in that long time master richard understood many things that had been dark to him before. of some of the things i have neither room nor wit to write; but they were such as these. he understood how it was that souls might go to hell, and yet that it was good that they should go; how it was that our saviour was born of his blessed mother without any breaking of her virginity; how it is that all things subsist in god; in what manner it is that god comes into the species of the bread. but he could not tell me how these things were so, nor what it was that was shewed him.... [there follow a few confused remarks on the relations of faith to spiritual sight.] there were two more things that were shewed him: the first, that he should not return home alive, but that his dead corpse should be carried there, and the second, what was the tidings that he should bear to the king. then he fell forward on his face, and so lay until the ending of the mass. how master richard cried out in westminster hall: and of his coming to a privy parlour _eructavit cor meum verbum bonum: dico ego opera mea regi._ my heart hath uttered a good word: i speak my works to the king.--_ps. xliv. ._ v it would be about half an hour before the king's dinner-time, which was ten o'clock, that master richard came again to the hall. there was not so great a press that day, and the holy youth was able to make his way near to the barrier that held back the common folk, and to see the king plainly. he was upon his seat beneath the cloth-of-estate that was quartered with the leopards and lilies, and had his hat upon his head. about him, beneath the scaffold on which he sat were the great nobles, and my lord cardinal had a chair set for him upon the right-hand side, on the step below the king's. all was very fair and fine, said master richard, with pieces of rich stuff hanging upon the walls on this side and that beneath the windows, and, finest of all were the colours of the robes, and the steel and the gold and the white fur and the feathers, and the gilded glaives and trumpets, and coat-armour of the heralds. there was a matter about to be concluded, but master richard could not tell what it was, for there was a din of talking all about him, and he saw many clerks and religious very busy together in the crowd, shaking their fingers, lifting their brows, and clacking like rooks at sunset--so the young man related it. there were two fellows with their backs to him, standing in an open space before the scaffold with guards about them. one of the two was a clerk, and wore his square cap upon his head, and the other was not. the king looked sick; he was but a young man at that time, not two years older than master richard. he was listening with his head down, to a clerk who whispered in his ear, kneeling by his side with papers and a great quill in his hand, and the king's eyes roved as he listened, now up, now down, and his fingers with rings upon them were arched at his ear. my lord cardinal had a ruddy face and bright holy eyes, and sat in his sanguine robes with his cap on his head, looking out with his lips pursed at the clerks and monks that babbled together beyond the barrier. he was an old man at this time, but wondrous strong and hearty. at the end the king sat up, and there was a silence, but he spoke so low and quick, with his eyes cast down, and the shouting followed so hard upon his words, that master richard could not hear what was said. but it seemed to content the clerks and the religious [king henry vi. was a great favourer of ecclesiastics.], for they roared and clamoured and one flung up his cap so that it fell beyond the barrier and he could not come at it again. then the two prisoners louted to the king, and went away with their guards about them; and the king stood up, and the cardinal. now this was the time on which master richard had determined for himself, but for a moment he could not cry out: it seemed as if the fiend had gripped him by the throat and were hammering in his bowels. the king turned to the steps, and at that sight master richard was enabled to speak. he had not resolved what to say, but to leave that to what god should put in his mouth, and this is what he cried, in a voice that all could hear. "news from our lord! news from our lord, your grace." he said that when he cried that, that was first silence, and then such a clamour as he had never heard nor thought to hear. he was pushed this way and that; one tore at his shoulder from behind; one struck him on the head: he heard himself named madman, feeble-wit, knave, fond fellow. the guards in front turned themselves about, and made as though they would run at the crowd with their weapons, and at that the men left off heaving at master richard, and went back, babbling and crying out. then he cried out again with all his might. "i bring tidings from my lord god to my lord the king," and went forward to the barrier, still looking at the king who had turned and looked back at him with sick, troubled eyes, not knowing what to do. a fellow seized master richard by the throat and pulled him against the barrier, menacing him with his glaive, but the king said something, raising his hand, and there fell a silence. "what is your business, sir?" asked the king. the fellow released master richard and stood aside. "i bring tidings from our lord," said the young man. he was all out of breath, he told me, with the pushing and striking, and held on to the red-painted barrier with both hands. the king stooped and whispered with at cardinal, who was plucking him by the sleeve, for the space of a _paternoster_, and the murmuring began to break out again. then he turned, and lifted his hand once more for silence. "what are the tidings, sir?" "they are for your private ear, your grace." "nay," said the king, "we have no private ear but for god's word." "this is god's word," said master richard. there was laughter at that, and the crowd came nearer again, but the king did not laugh. he stood still, looking this way and that, now on master richard, and now on the cardinal, who was pulling again at sleeve. it seemed as if he could not determine what to do. then he spoke again. "who are you, sir?" "i am a solitary, named richard raynal," said the young man. "i come from the country, from ... [it is most annoying that the name of the village is wanting.] sir john chaldfield, the parson, will undertake for me, your grace." "is sir john here?" asked my lord cardinal, smiling at the clerks. "no, my lord," said master richard, "he has his sheep in the wilderness. he cannot run about to court." there was again a noise of laughter and dissent from the crowd of clerks, and my lord cardinal smiled more than ever, shewing his white teeth in the midst of his ruddy face. "this is a witty fellow, your grace," said my lord cardinal aloud to the king. "will your grace be pleased to hear him in private?" the king looked at master richard again, as if he knew not what to do. "will you not tell us here, sir?" he asked. "i will not, your grace." "have you weapons upon you?" said my lord cardinal, still smiling. master richard pointed to the linen upon his breast. "i bear wounds, not weapons," he answered; which was a brave and shrewd answer, and one that would please the king. his grace smiled a little at that, but the smile passed again like the sunshine between clouds on a dark and windy day, and the crowd crept up nearer, so that master richard could feel hot breath upon his bare neck behind. he committed his soul again to our lady's tuition, for he knew not what might be the end if he were not heard out. * * * * * well, the end of it was as you know, it was not possible for any man with a heart in his body to look long upon master richard and not love him, and the king's face grew softer as he looked upon that fair young man with his nut-brown hair and the clear pallour of his face and his pure simple eyes, and then at the coarse red faces behind him that crept up like devils after holy job. it was not hard to know which was in the right, and besides the brave words that had stung the clerks to anger had stung the king to pity and pleasure; so the end was that the guards were bidden to let master richard through, and that he was to follow on in the procession, and be gently treated, and admitted to see the king when dinner was done. * * * * * so that, my children, is the manner in which it came about that my name was cried aloud before the king's presence, and the cardinals and the nobles, in westminster hall on the monday after _deus qui nobis_. [so the collect of corpus christi begins. it was a common method, even among the laity, of defining dates.] of master richard's speaking with the king's grace: and how he was taken for it _et nunc reges intelligite: erudimini qui judicatis terram._ and now, o ye kings, understand: receive instruction, ye that judge the earth.--_ps. ii. ._ vi they searched master richard for weapons, in spite of what he had said, when they had him alone in a little chamber off the king's closet, but not unkindly, after what had been ordered, but they found nothing beneath the white kirtle save the white skin, and nothing in the burse but the book of hours and a little pen-knife, and the bottle of quinte essence. one of them held that up, and demanded what it was. "that is the cordial called quinte essence," said master richard, smiling. they thought it to be a poison, so he was forced to explain that it was not. "it is made from man's blood," he said, "which is the most perfect part of our being, and does miracles if it is used aright." they would know more than that, so he told them how it was made, with salt, and set in the body of a horse, and afterwards distilled, and he told them what marvels it wrought by god's grace; how it would draw out the virtues and properties of things, and could be mixed with medicines, and the rest, as i have told to you before. that is the bottle you have seen at the parsonage. but they would not give it back to him at that time, and said that he should have it when the king had done talking with him. then they went out and left him alone, but one stood at the door to keep him until dinner was over. it was a little room, master richard said, and looked on to the river. it was hung with green saye, and was laid with rushes. there was a round table in the midst of the floor, and a chair on this side and that; and there was an image of christ upon the rood that stood upon the table. there was another door than that through which he had been brought from the hall. master richard, when he was left alone, tried to compose himself to devotion, but he was too much distracted by all that he had seen, until he had said _ad sextam_, and then he was quieter, and sat down before the table, looking upon the rood, and he did not know how long had passed before the king came in. * * * * * my children, i like to think of master richard then; it was his last peaceful hour that he spent until near the end when i came to him. but the peace of his heart did not leave him (except at one time), in spite of all that happened to him, for he told me so himself. yet, save for the little wound upon his head, he was clean of all injury at this time, and i like to think of him in his strength and loveliness as he was then, content to give his tidings from our lord to the king, and to abide what was to follow. as the clock beat eleven, the king came suddenly through from his parlour, but he was not alone: my lord cardinal was with him. as master richard knelt down on the floor to do them homage, he observed the king's dress: it was not as that of the other great men, for the king loved plain dress, and folks said that the clothing he would have liked best to wear was a monk's cowl or a friar's frock (and i doubt not that there be many a monk and friar, and clerk too, who would have been glad to change with him, for not every religious man has a religious heart!).... [there follows a little sermon on vocation.] the king's dress was a plain doublet with a collar of ermine, and over it a cloak of royal purple lined and trimmed with fur, but cut very plainly with a round cape such as priests wear. he had the collar of _sanctus spiritus_ over his shoulders, his cap on his head, with a peak to it, and little plain round shoes (not like those pointed follies that some wear, and that make a man's foot twice as long as god made it by his wisdom). my lord cardinal was in his proper dress, and bore himself very stately. the king bade master richard stand up, and himself and my lord sat down in the two chairs beside one another, so that half their faces were in shadow and half in light. master richard saw again that the king looked somewhat sick, and very melancholy. then the king addressed himself to master richard, speaking softly, but with an appearance of observing him very closely. my lord, too, watched him, folding his hands in his lap. "now tell me, sir," said the king, "what is this tidings that you bear?" master richard was a little dismayed at my lord's coming: he had thought it was to be in private. "it was to your ear alone, your grace, that i was bidden to deliver the message," he said. "my lord here is ears and eyes to me," said the king, a little stiffly, and my lord smiled to hear him, and laid his hand on the king's knee. that was answer enough for the holy youth, who was attendant only for god's will; so he began straightway, and told the king of his contemplation of eight days before, and of the dryness that fell on him when he strove to put away his thoughts, and of his words with me who was his priest, and his coming to london and an the rest. then he told him of how he heard mass at saint edward's altar, and how at the elevation of the sacring our lord had told him what tidings he was to take. the king observed him very closely, leaning his head on his hand and his elbow on the table, and my lord, who had begun by playing with his chain, ceased, and watched him too. master richard told me that there was a great silence everywhere when he had come to the matter of saint edward's altar; it was such an exterior silence as is the interior silence that came to him in contemplation. there appeared no movement anywhere, neither in the room, nor the palace, nor the world, nor in the three hearts that were beating there. there was only the great presence of god's majesty enfolding all. when he ceased speaking, the king stared on him for a full minute without any words, then he took his arm off the table and clasped his hands. "and what was it that our lord said to you, sir?" he asked softly, and leaned forward to listen. master richard looked on the sick eyes, and then at the ruddy prelate's face that seemed very stern beside it. but he dared not be silent now. "it is this, your grace, that our lord shewed to me," he began slowly, "that your grace is not as other men are, neither in soul nor in life. you walk apart from all, even as our saviour christ did, when he was upon earth. when you speak, men do not understand you; they take it amiss. they would have you make your kingdom to be of this world, and god will not have it so. _regnum dei intra te est._ ['the kingdom of god is within thee' (from luke xvii. .)] it is that kingdom which shall be yours. but to gain that kingdom you must suffer a passion, such as that which jesu suffered, and this is the tidings that he sends to you. he bids you make ready for it. it shall be a longer passion than his, but i know not how long. yet you must not go apart, as you desire. you must go this way and that at all men's will, ever within your _portans stigmata domini jesu_. ['bearing the marks of the lord jesu' (from gal. vi. .)] and the end of it shall be even as his, and as his apostles' was who now rules christendom. _cum senueris, extendes manus tuas, et alius te cinget, et ducet quo tu non vis._ ['when thou shalt be old thou shalt stretch forth thy hands; and another shall gird thee, and lead thee whither thou wouldst not' (john xxi. .)] and when you come before the heavenly glory, and the blessed saints shall ask you of your wounds, you shall answer them as our lord answered, '_his plagatus sum in domo eorum qui diligebant me._'" ["with these i was wounded in the house of them that loved me" (zach. xiii. .)] * * * * * when master richard had finished speaking, his head and body shook so much that he could scarce stand, or see the king plainly, and by this he perceived for a certainty that god was speaking by him. but he was aware that my lord cardinal was standing up with his hand outstretched and an appearance of great anger on his face. for indeed those were terrible things that master richard had said--that he should foretell the king's death in this manner, and all the sorrows that he should go through, for, as you know, all these words came about. yet it seemed that something restrained my lord from speaking till the other was done; but when master richard went back a step, shaking under the spirit of god, my lord burst out into words. master richard could not understand him; there was drumming in his ears, and the sweat poured from him, but when sight came back he observed my lord's face, red with passion, turning now to him, now to the king, who sat still in his place; his white eyebrows went up and down, and his scarlet cape and his rochet flapped this way and that as he shook his arms and cried out. when he had done there was silence again for a full minute. master richard could hear the breathing of one in the gallery without. then the king rose up without speaking, but looking intently upon the young man, and still without speaking, went out from the room, and my lord went after him. when master richard had stood a little while waiting, and there was no sound (for the door into the king's parlour was now shut again), he turned to the other door to go out; for he had delivered his message, and there was no more to be said. the man that kept the door, and whose breathing master richard had heard just now, barred the way, and asked him his business. "my business is done," said master richard, "i must go home again." "and the king?" asked the fellow. "the king and my lord are gone back into the parlour." there was no cause to keep master richard any longer, so the fellow let him past, and he went down the gallery and the stairs towards the court that opened upon the hall. but before he reached the door, there was a great tumult overhead, and a noise of men moving and crying, and master richard stayed to listen. (i had almost said that it had been better if he had not stayed, but made his way out quickly and escaped perhaps; but it is not so, as i now believe, for our lord had determined what should be the end.) two fellows came running presently down the stairs up which master richard was looking. one of them was a page of my lord's, a lad dressed all in purple with the pointed shoes of which i have written before, and the other the man-at-arms that had kept the door. the lad cried out shrilly when he saw him standing there, and came down the steps four at a leap, with his hands outstretched to either wall. master richard thought that he would fall, and stepped forward to catch him, but the lad recovered himself on the rushes, and then, screaming with anger, sprang at the young man's throat, seizing it with one hand, and striking him in the face again and again with the other. for an instant master richard stood amazed, then he caught the lad's hands without a word and held them so, looking at the man-at-arms who was now half-way down the stairs in his plate and mail, and at others who were following as swiftly as they could. in the court outside, too, there were footsteps and the sound of talking, and presently the door was darkened by half a dozen others, who ran up at the tumult, and all in a moment master richard found himself caught from behind and his hands pulled away, so that the lad was able to strike him again, which he did, three or four times. so he was taken by the men and held. master richard could not understand what the matter was, as he looked at the press that gathered every moment on the stairs and in the court. so he asked one that held him, and the page screamed out his answer above the tumult of voices and weapons. so master richard understood, and went upstairs under guard, with the blood staining his brown and white dress, and his face bruised and torn, to await when the king should come out of the fit into which he had fallen, and judge him for the message which he had brought. of master richard's second speaking with his grace: and of his detention _abscondes eos in abscondito faciei tuae: a conturbatione hominum._ thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy face: from the disturbance of men.--_ps. xxx. ._ vii i scarcely have the heart to write down all that befell master richard; and yet what it pleased god's majesty that he should suffer, cannot displease him to write down nor to think upon.... [there follows a curiously modern discussion on what i may call the gospel of pleasure, which is a very different thing from the gospel of joy. the former, as sir john points out, disregards and avoids pain, the latter deals with it. he points out acutely that this difference is the characteristic difference between greek and christian philosophy.] master richard was taken back again by two of the men-at-arms into the parlour where he had lately seen the king, and was allowed to stand by the window, looking out upon the river, while one fellow kept one door, and one the other. he strove to keep quiet interiorly, keeping his eyes fixed upon the broad river in the sunshine and the trees on the other side, and his heart established on god's will. he did not know then what kind of a fit it was into which the king had fallen, nor why it was that himself should be blamed for it; and when he spoke to the men they gave him nothing but black looks, and one blessed himself repeatedly, with his lips moving. there came the sound of talking from the inner room, and once or twice the sound of glass on glass. without it was a fair day, very hot and with no clouds. master richard told me that he had no fear, neither now nor afterwards; it seemed to him as if all had been done before; he said it was as if he were one in a play, whose part and words are all assigned beforehand, as well as the parts and words of the others, by the will of the writer; so that when violence is done, or injustice, or hard words spoken, or death suffered, it is all part of the agreed plan and must not be resisted nor questioned, else all will be spoiled. it appeared to him too as if the ankret in the cell were privy to it all, and were standing, observing and approving; for master richard remembered what the holy man had said as to the five wounds marked upon the linen, and how he would not need to wear them much longer. * * * * * after about half-an-hour, as he supposed, the voices waxed louder in the other room; and presently one came out from it in the black dress of a physician. he was a pale man, shaven clean, a little bald, and very thin. it was that physician that died last year. he said nothing, though his face worked, and he beckoned sharply to master richard. master richard went immediately across the floor and through into the further room. there were a dozen persons gathered there, all staring upon the king, who sat in a great chair by the table. two or three of these were servants, and the rest of them, with my lord cardinal, the nobles that had been in the palace at the time of the king's seizure. my lord cardinal was standing by the chair, very stern and anxious-looking; and all turned their faces, and there was an angry whisper from their mouths, as the young man came forward and halted; and the physician shut to the door. but master richard did not observe them closely at that time; for he was looking upon the king. the king sat very upright in his chair; his hands rested on the carved arms; and his face and eyes were as if made of caen stone, chalky and hard. he was looking out from the room, master richard said; and master richard knew at once what it was that he was seeing. it was that of which the holy youth had spoken; and was nothing else than the passion and death that came upon him afterwards. the words that the king had heard had opened the eyes of his soul, and he was now seeing for himself. before that any could speak or hinder, master richard was on his knees by the king, and had laid his lips to the white right-hand, seeing as he did so the red ring on the first finger. my lord cardinal sprang forward to tear him off, but the king turned his stony eyes; and my lord fell back. then master richard knew that he had not given the whole message; and that our lord had not intended it at first. the message of the passion and death was to be first; and the second, second--first the wound, and then the balm. so he began to speak; and these were the words as he told them to me. "my lord king," he said, "our lord does not leave us comfortless when he sends us sorrow. this is a great honour, greater than the crown that you bear, to bear the crown of thorns. that bitter passion of christ that he bore for our salvation is wrought out in the body which is his church, and especially in those members, which, like his sacred hands and feet, receive the nails into themselves. happy are those members that receive the nails; they are the more honourable; it was on his feet that he went about to do good; and with his hands that he healed and blessed and gave his precious body; and with his burning heart that he loves us. "my lord king; men will name you fool and madman and crowned calf; it is to their shame that they do so, and to your honour. for so they named our saviour. all who set not their minds on this world are accounted fools; but who will be the merrier in the world that is to come? "and, last, our lord has bestowed on your highness an honour that he bestows upon few, but which himself suffered; and that, the knowledge of what is to be. in this manner the passion is borne a thousand times a day, by foreknowledge; and for every such pain there is a joy awarded. it is for this reason that you may bear yourself rightly, and that he may crown you more richly that our lord has sent me to you, and bidden me tell you this." * * * * * all this while master richard was looking upon the king's face, but there was no alteration in his aspect. it was as the colour of ashes, and his eyes like stone; and yet master richard knew very well that his grace heard what was said, but could not answer it. (it was so with him often afterwards: he would sit thus without speaking or answering what was said to him: he would go thus to mass and dinner and to bed, as pale as a spirit: he would even ride thus among his army, with his crown on his head, and his sword in his hand, dumb but not deaf; and looking upon what others could not see: and all, as those about him knew very well, began from the hearing of the message that master richard raynal brought to him from god's majesty). while master richard was speaking the rest kept silence: for i think that somewhat held them for pity of those two young men--for the one that sat in such stiff agony, and for the other near as pale, and red with his own blood, that spoke so eloquently. but when he had done and had kissed the white hand again, my lord cardinal came forward, pushed him aside, and himself began to speak in a voice that was at once pitiful and angry, crying upon the king to answer, telling him that he was bewitched and under the power of satan through the machinations of master richard, and blessing him again and again. master richard stood aside watching, and wondering that my lord could speak so, and not understand the truth; and he looked round at the others to see if any there understood. but they were all dumb, except for muttering, and gave him black looks, and blessed themselves as their eyes met his; so he committed himself to prayer. [sir john preaches a little sermon here on internal recollection, and the advantages of the practice.] it was of no avail; the king could not speak; and presently the physician, master blytchett, [this is an extraordinary name, and is obviously a corruption of some english name, but i do not know what it can be, nor why it was retained, when all others were erased.] came and whispered in my lord's ear as he knelt at the king's knees. my lord turned his head and nodded, and master richard was seized from behind and pulled through the door. the man who had pulled him was one of the servants. i saw him afterwards and spoke with him, when he was sorry for what he had done; but now he spat on master richard fiercely, for the door was shut; and blessed himself mightily meanwhile. then he spoke to the man that kept the door; and said that master richard was to be taken down and kept close, until there was need of him again; for that the king was no better. so master richard was brought downstairs, and through the guard-room into one of the little cells: and as he went he was thinking on the words of our saviour. _si male locutus sum, testimonium perhibe de malo: si autem bene, quid me caedis?_ ["if i have spoken ill, give testimony of the evil, but if well, why strikest thou me?" (john xviii. .)] of the parson's disquisition on the whole matter _in columna nubis loquebatur ad eos._ he spoke to them in the pillar of the cloud.--_ps. xcviii. ._ viii {at this point of the narrative, in consideration of what has preceded and what is yet to follow, sir john chaldfield thinks it proper to enlarge at great length upon the threefold nature of man, and the various characters and functions that emerge from the development of each part. for the sake of those who are more interested in the adventures of master richard and the king than in a medieval priest's surmises as to their respective psychological states, i shall take leave to summarise a few of his remarks and omit the rest. the whole section, in fact, might be omitted without any detriment to the history; and may be ignored by those who have arrived as far as this point in the reading of the book. sir john is somewhat obscure; and i suspect that he does not fully understand the theory that he attempts to state, which i suppose was taught him originally by richard raynal himself, and subsequently illustrated by the priest's own studies. he instances several cases as examples of the classes of persons to which he refers; but his obscurity is further deepened by the action of the zealous and discreet scribe, who, as i have said in the preface, has been careful to omit nearly all the names in sir john's original manuscript. briefly, his theory is as follows--at least so far as i can understand him. * * * * * it is at once man's glory and penalty that he is a mixed being. by the possession of his complex nature he is capable of both height and depth. he can devote himself to god or satan; and there are two methods by which he can attain to proficiency in either of those services. he can issue forth through his highest or lowest self, according to his own will and predispositions. most men are predisposed to act through the lower or physical self; and by an interior intention direct their actions towards good or evil. those that serve god in this manner are often incapable of high mystical acts; but they refrain generally from sin; and when they sin return through penance. those who so serve satan sin freely, and make no efforts at reformation. a few of these, by a wholehearted devotion to evil, succeed in establishing a relation between themselves and physical nature, and gain a certain control over the lower powers inherent in it. to this class belong the less important magicians and witches; and even some good christians possess such powers (which we now call psychical) which, generally speaking, they are at a loss to understand. such persons can blast or wither by the eye; they have a strange authority over animals; [i append a form of words which sir john quotes, and which, he says, may be used sometimes lawfully even by christened men. it is to be addressed in necessity to a troublesome snake. "by him who created thee i adjure thee that thou remain in the spot where thou art, whether it be thy will to do so or otherwise. and i curse thee with the curse wherewith the lord hath cursed thee."] and are able to set up a connection between inanimate material objects and organic beings. [he instances the wasting of an enemy by melting a representation of him fashioned in wax.] but such magic, even when malevolent, need not be greatly feared by christian men living in grace: its physical or psychical influence can be counteracted by corresponding physical acts: such things as the sign of the cross, the use of sacramentals, the avoidance of notoriously injurious follies such as beginning work on friday, the observance of such matters as wearing principium evangelii secundum joannem on the person, and the paying of ocular deference to saint christopher on rising--these precautions and others like them are usually a sufficient safeguard. [i am afraid it is impossible to clear sir john wholly of the charge of superstition. the "beginning of the gospel according to john" was the fourteen verses read as the last gospel after mass. a copy of this passage was often carried, sewn into the clothes, to protect from various ills. the image of st. christopher usually stood near the door of the church to ensure against violent death all who looked on it in the morning.] but all this is a very different matter from the high mysticism of contemplatives, ascetics, and satanic adepts. these are persons endowed with extraordinary dispositions, who have resolved to deal with invisible things through the highest faculty of their nature. the satanic adepts are greatly to be feared, even in matters pertaining to salvation, for, although their power has been vastly restricted by the union of the divine and human natures in the incarnation of the son of god, yet they are capable by the exercise of their power, of obscuring spiritual faculties, and bringing to bear grievous temptations, as well as of afflicting by sickness, misfortune and death. these select souls are the great mages of all time; and their leader, since the year of redemption, simon magus himself, could be dealt with by none other than the vicar of christ and prince of apostles. it is not every man, even with the worst will in the world, who is capable of rising to this sinister position: for it is not enough to renounce the faith, to make a league with satan, to insult the cross and to commit other enormities: there must also be resident in the aspirant a peculiar faculty, corresponding to, if not identical with, the glorious endowment of the contemplative. if, however, all these and other conditions are fulfilled, the initiated person is severed finally from the body of christ and incorporated into that of satan, through which mysterious regeneration it receives supernatural powers corresponding to those of the baptised soul. finally sir john considers those whom he calls "god's adepts," and among those, though in different classes, he places richard raynal and the king. [a little later on he also mentions king solomon as an eminent pre-christian adept, and enoch.] these adepts, he says, are of every condition and character, but that which binds them together is the fact that they all alike deal directly with invisible things, and not, as others do, through veils and symbols. since the incarnation, however, all baptized persons who frequent the sacraments are in a certain degree adepts, for in those sacraments they may be truly said to see, handle, hear and taste the word of life. other powers, however, are still reserved to those who are the masters of the spiritual life;--for not all persons, however holy, are contemplatives, ecstatics, or seers. now contemplation is an arduous labour; it is not, as some ignorant persons think, a process of idle absorption; it is rather a state of strenuous endeavour, aided at any rate in its first stages by acts of steady detachment from the world of sense. richard raynal had passed through the first rigour of that purgative stage in the short period of one year, and although he still lived a detached life, and practised various austerities, he was so far free of danger that he was able, as has been already remarked, to dig and talk without interrupting the exercise of his higher faculties. he had then passed to the illuminative stage, and had remained, again for one year, in the process of being informed, taught and kindled in preparation for the third and last stage of union with the divine--elsewhere named the way of perfection. he had been rewarded by various sensible gifts, particularly by that of ecstasy, by which the soul passes, as fully as an embodied soul can pass, into the state of eternity. here mysteries are seen plainly, though they seldom can be declared in words, or at least only haltingly and under physical images that are not really adequate to that which they represent. [that which richard calls calor, or warmth, appears to be one of these.] with the king, however, it was different. by the exigencies of his vocation he was unable to live the properly contemplative life; solitude, an essential to that life, was impossible to him: but he had done what he could by asceticism and the habit of recollection; and, further, his soul had been naturally one of those which had the necessary endowments of the contemplative. the purgative, illuminative and unitive stages had therefore been confused, and had come upon him simultaneously, though gradually; and this as was to be expected, had resulted in intense suffering. there was for him no gradation by which he passed slowly upwards from detachment to union. richard raynal's words to him had coincided with the struggling emergence of his own soul on to the higher plane; and he had opened his spiritual eyes on to a terrible future for which he had had but little preparation. the result had been a kind of paralysis of his whole nature, and henceforward the rest of his life, sir john maintains, had been darkened by his first definite experience in the mystical region. if indeed this king was none other than henry the sixth, sir john's explanation is an interesting commentary on that melancholy personage. richard then, according to this hypothesis, found joy in his contemplation because he had been trained to look for it; and henry had found sorrow because he had been overwhelmed by the suddenness of the revelation and his men unpreparedness. sir john adds that it is difficult to know which of the two lives would be more pleasing to god almighty. as regards his whole statement i feel it is impossible to say more than to quote the opinion of a modern mystic to whom i submitted the original; which was to the effect that it contains a little nonsense, a good deal of truth, and a not intolerable admixture of superstition. he added further that sir john must not be judged hardly; for he was limited by an inadequate vocabulary and an ignorance of many of the terms that his scanty reading enabled him to employ.} how master richard took his meat: and of master lieutenant's whipping of him _domine, ante te omne desiderium meum; et gemitus meus a te non est absconditus._ lord, all my desire is before thee: and my groaning is not hidden from thee.--_ps. xxxvii. ._ ix it was a little cell in which master richard found himself that afternoon, after he had passed through the guardroom and heard the anger and laughter of the men-at-arms, and sustained their blows, and when he had looked about it, at the little narrow window high up upon the wall, and the water that dripped here and there from the stones, and the strong door shut upon him, the first thing that he did was to go down upon his knees in the puddle, and thank god for solitude. (there be two kinds of men in the world, those that love solitude, and those that hate it; for there be two kinds of souls, the full and the empty. those that be full have enough to occupy them with, and those that be empty are for ever seeking somewhat wherewith to occupy them.) when he had done that he looked round again upon the walls and the ceiling and the floor, and sitting down upon the wood that was to be his pillow, first girding up his kirtle that it might not be fouled, he sought to unite himself with all that he saw, that it might be his friend and not his foe. so he told me when i asked him, but i do not know if i understood him aright. there he sat then a great while, communing with god, and the saints, with his cell and with his soul, and after a little time his interior quiet was again restored. then, as he knew he would have no light that night, and that the cell would grow dark early, for his window looked eastwards, and was a very little one, he made haste to say the rest of his office from the book that he had with him. but he said it slowly, as the carthusians use, sucking the sweetness out of every word, and saying _jesu_ or _mary_ at every star [the break in each verse of the psalter is marked with an asterisk], and after a while the sweetness was so piercing that he could scarcely refrain from crying out. when he had done he looked again at his window, and saw that the strip of sky was becoming green with evening light, and he thought upon his hazels at home. half an hour afterwards a fellow came with his bread and water for supper, on a wooden plate and in a great jug, set them down and went out without speaking. * * * * * now i will tell you all that master richard did; it was his custom when he was at home, and he observed it here too. he first poured water upon his hands, saying the psalm _lavabo_, and he dried them upon the sleeves of his habit, for he had no napkin; then he set the second stool before him, and broke the bread upon it into five parts, in memory of the five wounds, setting two portions here and two there, and the fifth in the middle. then he blessed the food, looking upon it a great while, and seeing with the eyes of his soul his saviour's body stretched upon the rood. then he began to eat, dipping each morsel into its proper wound, so that it tasted to him sweet as wine, and last of all he ate that which lay in the middle, thinking on the heart that was pierced for love of him. then he drank water, blessed himself, and gave thanks to god, and last of all poured water once more upon his hands. master richard has often told me that there is no such sweet food to be found anywhere--(save only the sacrament of the altar)--as that which is so blessed and so eaten, and indeed i have found it so myself, when i have had patience to do so with it. [sir john makes here a few rather trite remarks upon holy bread and ashes and upon various methods of devotion. his words are quite irrelevant, therefore i omit them. he is careful, however, to warn his flock that not every form of devotion is equally suitable for every soul.].... now god was preparing three trials for master richard, and the first came on the following morning very early. he had not slept very well; the noise from the guard-room without was too great, and when that was quiet there was still the foulness of the place to keep him awake, for all the floor was strewn with rotten rags and straw and bones, as it were a kennel. his wounds, besides, had not been tended, and he was very sick when he awoke, and for a while scarce knew where he was. i think, perhaps, he had taken the fever then. he heard presently steps in the way that led to his cell, and talking, and immediately his door was unlocked and opened. there came in a lieutenant of the king's guard, richly dressed, and in half-armour, with his sword at his side. he had a heavy, hairy face, and as master richard sat up on his blanket he perceived that the man was little better than an animal--gross-bodied and gross-souled. i saw the fellow later, though i did not speak with him, and i judge as master richard judged. there were four men behind him. master richard stood up immediately to salute the king's officer, and stood awaiting what should follow, but he swayed with sickness as he stood. the officer said a word to his men, and they haled master richard forth, pulling him roughly, although he went willingly, as well he was able for his sickness, through the passage and into the guard-room. there was a table set there on a step at the upper end with a chair behind it; and at the lower end was a couple of men cleaning their harness beneath a gallery that was held up by posts; the rest were out changing guard. the door into the court was wide at first, and the sweet air streamed in, refreshing master richard like wine after the stench that was in his nostrils, and making him think upon the country again and running water and birds, but master-lieutenant, when he had taken his seat, bade them close it, and to set master richard before him; all of which they did, and so held him. then he began to speak. "now, sir," he said roughly, "my lord king is at the point of death, and i am here to examine you. what is it that you have done to his grace?" now master richard knew that the king could not die, else where were the passion he was to undergo? and if the officer could lie in this matter, why should he not lie in other matters? "where is your authority," he said "to examine me?" "what sir! do you question that? you shall see my authority by and bye." "i am willing to answer you as one man to another" said master richard softly, "but not to plead, until i have seen your authority." "oh! you are willing to answer!" said the officer, smiling like an angry dog. "very well, then. what have you done to his grace?" "i have done nothing," said master richard, "save give the message that our lord bade me give." master-lieutenant laughed short and sharp at that, and the two men that held master richard laughed with him. (the other two men were gone to the other end of the hall, and master richard could not see what they were doing.) "oho!" said the officer, "that is all that you have done to his grace! i would advise you, sir, not to play the fool with me. we know very well what you have done; but we would know from you how and when you did it." master richard said nothing to that. he felt very light in the head, what with his wounds and the bad air, and the strangeness of the position. he knew that he was smiling, but he could not prevent it. his smiling angered the man. "you dare smile at me, sir!" he cried. "i will teach you to smile!"--and he struck the table with his hand, so that the ink-horn danced upon it. "i cannot help smiling," said master richard. "i think i am faint, sir." one of the men shook him by the arm, and master richard's sense came back a little. when he could see again clearly (for just now the face of the officer and the woodwork behind him swam like images seen in water), master-lieutenant had a little bottle in his hand. he bade master richard look upon it and asked him what it was. "i think it to be my quinte essence" said master richard. "you acknowledge that then!" cries the man. "and what is quinte essence?" "it is distilled of blood" said master richard. the officer set the bottle down again upon the table. "now sir" he said, "that is enough to cast you. none who was a christian man would have such a thing. say _paternoster_." [this seems to have been one of the tests in trials for witchcraft.] "_paternoster_ ..." began master richard. now, my children, i cannot explain what this signified, but master richard could get no further than that. i know that i myself cannot say any of the prayers of mass when i am away from the altar, and other priests have told me the same of themselves, but it seems to me very strange that a man should not at any time be able to say _paternoster_. whether it was that master richard was sick, or that the officer's face troubled him, or whether that god almighty desired to put him to a grievous test, i know not. but he could not say it. he repeated over and over again, _paternoster ... paternoster_, and swayed as he stood. the officer's face grew dark and a little afraid; he blessed himself three or four times, and breathed through his nostrils heavily. master richard felt himself smiling again, and presently fell to laughing, and as he laughed he perceived that the men who held him drew away from him a little, and blessed themselves too. "i cannot help it," sobbed master richard presently, "to think that i cannot say _paternoster_!" when he had recovered himself somewhat, he perceived that the two other men were come up behind him. then the officer bade him turn and look, and he did so, with the tears of that dreadful laughter still upon his cheeks. the two men were standing there; one had a great hangman's whip of leather in his hand, and the other a rope. "now, sir;" said the officer behind him, "here is enough authority for you and me. shall i bid them begin, or will you tell us what it is that you have done to the king?" now, master richard had nothing to tell, as you know; he could not have saved himself in any case from the torment, but our lord allowed him to have this trial, to see how he would bear himself. he might have cried out for mercy, or told a false tale as men so often have done, but he did neither of these things. the laughter again rose in his throat, but he drove it down, and after looking upon the men's faces and the arms of the man that held the whip, he turned once more to the officer. "i have scourged myself too often," he said, "to fear such pain; and our saviour bore stripes for me." then (for the men had released him that he might turn round) he undid the button at his throat, and threw back the kirtle, knotting the sleeves about his waist, and so stood, naked to his middle, awaiting the punishment. he told me afterwards that never had he felt such lightness and freedom as he felt at this time. his body yearned for the pain, as it yearned for the sting and thrill of cold water on a cold day. when he was telling me, i understood better how it was that the holy martyrs were so merry in the midst of their torments. [sir john relates at considerable length the acts of st. laurence and st. sebastian.].... when the officer had looked on him a moment, he bade him turn round, and so, i suppose, sat staring upon the youth's holy shoulders that were covered with the old stripes that he had given himself. at last master richard faced about again; and again, as he looked upon the solemn face of the man, he began to laugh. it seemed a marvellous jest, he thought, that so long a consideration should be given to so small a matter as a whipping. i am glad i was not there to bear that laughter; i think it would quite have broken my heart. * * * * * well, my children, i cannot write what followed, but the end of it was that the post to which master richard's hands were tied, and the face of master-lieutenant standing behind it, and the wall behind him with the weapons upon it, grew white and frosted to the young man's eyes, and began to toss up and down, and a great roaring sounded in his ears. he thought, he told me afterwards, that he was on calvary beneath the rood, and that the rocks were rending about him. so he swooned clean away, and was carried back again to his prison. * * * * * now i learned afterwards that the officer had no authority such as he pretended, but that he had sworn to his fellows that he could find out the truth by a pretence of it, thinking master richard to be a poor crazed fool who would cry out and confess at the touch of the whip. but master richard did not cry out for mercy. and i hold that he passed this first trial bravely. of the second temptation of master richard: and how he overcame it _exacuerunt ut gladium linguas suas: interderunt arcum rem amaram: ut sagittent in occultis immaculatum._ they have whetted their tongues like a sword: they have bent their bow a bitter thing, to shoot in secret the undefiled.--_ps. lxiii, , ._ x as master richard had striven to serve god in the trinity of his nature, so was he to be tried in the trinity of his nature. it was first in his body that he was tempted, by pain and the fear of it; and his second trial came later in the same day--which was in his mind. he lay abed that morning till his dinner was brought to him, knowing sometimes what passed--how a rat came out and looked on him awhile, moving its whiskers; how the patch of sunlight upon the wall darkened and passed; and how a bee came in and hummed a great while in the room; and sometimes conscious of nothing but his own soul. he could make no effort, he told me, and he did not attempt it. he only lay still, committing himself to god almighty. he could not eat the meat, even had he wished it, but he drank a little broth and ate some bread, and then slept again. * * * * * he did not know what time it was when he awoke and found one by his bed, looking down on him, he thought, compassionately. it was growing towards evening, for it way darker, or else his eyes were heavy and confused with sickness, but he could not see very clearly the face of the man who stood by him. the man presently kneeled down by the bed, murmuring with pity as it seemed, and master richard felt himself raised a little, and then laid down again, and there was something soft at the nape of his neck over the wooden pillow and against his torn shoulders. there was something, too, laid across his body and legs, as if to keep him from chill. he said nothing for a while; he did not know what to say, but he looked steadily at the face that looked on him, and saw that it was that of a young man, not five years older than himself, shaven clean like a clerk, and the eyes of him seemed pitiful and loving. "_laudetur jesus christus!_" said master richard presently, as his custom was when he awoke. "_amen_," said the man beside the bed. that comforted master richard a little--that the man should say _amen_ to his praise of jesu christ, so he asked him who he was and what he did there. the young man said nothing to that, but asked him instead how he did, and his voice was so smooth and tender that master richard was further encouraged. "i do far better than our lord did," he answered. "he had none to minister to him." it seemed that the young man was moved at that, for he hid his face in his hands a moment. then he began to pity master richard, saying that it was a shame that he had been so evilly treated, and that master-lieutenant should smart for it if it ever came to his grace's ears. but he said this so strangely that master richard was astonished. "and how does the king do?" he asked. "the king is at the point of death," said the young man solemnly. "it is no more than the point then," said master richard confidently, "and a point that will not pierce him, else what of the passion that he must suffer?" the young man seemed to look on him very steadily and earnestly at that. "why do you look at me like that?" he asked him. "i have done nothing to his grace save give my tidings." "master hermit," said the young man very gravely, "i entreat you not to speak like that." "how should i speak then?" he asked. the young man did not answer immediately, but he moved on his knees a little closer to the bed, and took master richard's hand softly between his own, and so held it, caressing it. master richard told me that this action moved him more than all else; he felt the tears rise to his eyes, and he gave a sob or two. it is always so with noble natures after great pain. [sir john relates here the curious history of a girl who was nearly burned as a witch, and that when she was reprieved she yielded at once to the solicitations of marriage from a man whom she had always hated, but who was the first to congratulate her on her escape. but the story sadly interrupts the drama of the main narrative, and therefore i omit it.].... then the young man spoke very sweetly and kindly. "master hermit," he said, "you must bear with me for bringing sad tidings to you. but will you hear them now or to-morrow?" "i will hear them now," said master richard. so the young man proceeded. "one came back to-day from your home in the country. he was sent there yesterday night by my lord cardinal. he spoke with your parson, sir john, and what he heard from him he has told to my lord, and i heard it." (this was a lie, my children. no man from london had spoken with me. but you shall see what follows.) "and what did sir john tell him," asked master richard quietly. "did he say he knew nothing of me?" now he asked this, thinking that perhaps this was a method of tempting him. and so it was, but worse than he thought it. "no, poor lad," said the young man very pitifully, "sir john knew you well enough. the messenger saw your little house, too, and the hazels about it; and the stream, and the path that you have made; and there were beasts there, he said, a stag and pig that looked lamentably out from the thicket." now observe the satanic guile of this! for at the mention of all his little things, and his creatures that loved him, master richard could not hold back his tears, for he had thought so often upon them, and desired to see them again. so the young man stayed in his talk, and caressed his hand again, and murmured compassionately. presently master richard was quiet, and asked the young man to tell him what the parson had said. "to-morrow," said the young man, making as if to rise. "to-day," said master richard. so the young man went on. "he went to the parsonage with sir john, and talked with him there a long while--" "did he see my books?" said master richard in his simplicity. "yes, poor lad; he saw your books. and then sir john told him what he thought." "and what was that?" said master richard, faint with the thought of the answer. the young man caressed his hand again, and then pressed it as if to give him courage. "sir john told him that you were a good fellow; that you injured neither man nor beast; and that all spoke well of you." then the young man stayed again. "ah! tell me," cried master richard. "well, poor lad; as god sees us now, sir john told the messenger that he thought you to be deluded; that you deemed yourself holy when you were not, and that you talked with the saints and our lord, but that these appearances were no more than the creations of your own sick brain. he said that he humoured you; for that he feared you would be troublesome if he did not, and that all the folk of the village said the same thing to you, to please you and keep you quiet.--ah! poor child!" the young man cried out as if in sorrow, and lifted master richard's hand and kissed it. master richard told me that when he heard that it was as a blow in the face to him. he could not answer, nor even think clearly. it was as if a gross darkness, full of wings and eyes and mocking faces pressed upon him, and he believed that he cried out, and that he must have swooned, for when he came to himself again his face was all wet with water that the young man had thrown upon it. it was a minute or two more before he could speak, and during that time it appeared to him that he did not think himself, but that ideas moved before his eyes, manifesting themselves. at first there was a doubt as to whether the young man had spoken the truth, and whether any messenger had been to the village at all, but the mention of the hazels, the stag and the pig, and his books, dispelled that thought. again it did not seem possible that the young man should have lied as to what it was that i was said to have answered; if they had wished to lie, surely they would have lied more entirely, and related that i had denied all knowledge of him. but the falsehood was so subtle an one; it was so well interwoven with truth that i count it to have been impossible for master richard in his sickness and confusion to have disentangled the one from the other. i have heard a physician say, too, that the surest manner to perplex a man is to suggest to him that his brain is clouded; at such words he often loses all knowledge of self; he doubts his own thoughts, and even his senses. this, then, was master richard's temptation--that he should doubt himself, his friends, and even our lord who had manifested himself so often and so kindly to the eyes of his soul. yet he did not yield to it, although he could not repel it. he cried upon jesu in his heart, and then set the puzzle by. he looked at the young man once more. "and why do you tell me this?" he asked. the clerk (if he were a clerk) answered him first by another judas-caress or two, and then by judas-words. "master hermit," he said, "i am but a poor priest, but my words have some weight with two or three persons of the court; and these again have some weight with my lord cardinal. i asked leave to come and tell you this as kindly as i could, and to see what you would say. i observed you in the hall the other day, and i have a good report of your reasonableness from the monastery. i conceived, too, a great love for you when i saw you, and wish you well; and i think i can do you a great service, and get you forth from this place that you may go whither you will,--to your house by the stream or to some other place where none know you. would it not be pleasant to you to be in the country again, and to serve god with all your might in some sweet and secret place where men are not?" "i can serve god here as there," answered master richard. "well--let that be. but what if god almighty wishes you to be at peace? we must not rush foolishly upon death. that is forbidden to us." "i do not seek death," said master richard. the clerk leaned over him a little, and master richard saw his eyes bent upon him with great tenderness. "master hermit," he said, "i entreat you not to be your own enemy. you see that those that know you best love you, but they do not think you to be what you think you are---" "i am nothing but god's man, and a sinner," said the lad. "well, they think your visions and the rest to be but delusions. and if they be delusions, why should not other matters be delusions too?" "what matters?" asked master richard. "such matters as the tidings that you brought to the king." "and what is it you would have me to do?" asked master richard again after a silence. "it is only a little thing, poor lad--such a little thing! and then you will be able to go whither you will." "and what is that little thing?" "it is to tell me that you think them delusions too." "but i do not think them so," said master richard. "think as you will then, master hermit; but, you know, when folks are sick we may tell them anything without sin. and the king is sick to death. i do not believe that you have bewitched him: you have too good a face and air for that--and for the matter of the _paternoster_ i do not value it at a straw. the king is sick with agony at what he thinks will come upon him after your words. he will not listen to my lord cardinal: he sits silent and terrified, and has taken no food to-day. but if you will but tell him, master hermit, that you were mistaken in your tidings--that it was but a fancy, and that you know better now--all will be well with him and with you, and with us all who love you both." so the clerk spoke, tempting him, and leaned back again on his heels; and master richard lay a great while silent. * * * * * now, i do not know who was this young man, whether he were a clerk or whether he were not a devil in form of a man. i could hear nothing of him at court when i went there. it may be that he was one of those idle fellows that had come to master richard from time to time to ask him to make them hermits with him, else how did he know the matters of the stag and the pig and the stream and the rest? but it does not greatly matter whether his soul were a devil's or a man's, for in any case his words were satan's. if i had not heard what came after i should have believed this temptation to be the most subtle ever devised in hell and permitted from heaven. he spoke so tenderly and so sweetly; he commanded his features so perfectly; he seemed to speak with such love and reasonableness. yet i would have you know that master richard did not yield by a hair's breadth in thought. he examined the temptation carefully, setting aside altogether the question as to whether i had spoken as this young man had said that i had. whether i had spoken so or not made no difference. it was this that he was bidden to do, to say that he had erred in his tidings, to confess that they were not from god; to be a faithless messenger to our lord. he examined this, then, looking carefully at all parts of the temptation. [sir john appends at this point two or three paragraphs, distinguishing between the observing of a temptation of thought and the yielding to it. he instances christ's temptation in the garden of gethsemane.].... at the end master richard opened his eyes and looked steadily upon the young man's face. "take this answer," he said, "to those that sent you. i will neither hear nor consider such words any more. if i yield in this matter, and say one word to the king or to any other, by which any may understand that my message was a delusion, or that i spoke of myself and not from our lord, then i pray that our lord may blot my name out of the book of life." * * * * * so master richard answered and closed his eyes to commune with god. and the young man went away sighing but speaking no word. of the dark night of the soul _de profundis clamavi ad te, domine: domine exaudi vocem meam._ out of the depths i have cried to thee, o lord: lord, hear my voice.--_ps. cxxix. , ._ xi the third temptation was so fierce and subtle, that i doubt whether i wholly understood it when master richard tried to tell it to me. he did not tell me all, and he could answer but few questions, and i fear that i am not able to tell even all that i heard from him. it was built up like a house, he said, stone by stone, till it fenced him in, but he did not know what was all its nature till he saw my lord cardinal. a soul such as was master richard's must have temptations that seem as nothing to coarser beings such as myself: as a bird that lives in the air has dangers that a crawling beast cannot have. there are perils in the height that are not perils on the earth. a bird may strike a tree or a tower; his wings may fail him; he may fly too near the sun till he faint in its heat; he cannot rest; if he is overtaken by darkness he cannot lie still. [sir john enumerates at some length other such dangers to bird life.].... * * * * * now master richard described the state into which he fell under a curious name that i cannot altogether understand. he said that there be three _nights_ through which the contemplative soul must pass or ever it come to the dawn. the first two he had gone through during his life in the country; the first is a kind of long-continued dryness, when spiritual things have no savour; the second is an affection of the mind, when not even meditation [this is an exercise distinct from contemplation apparently. i include this passage, in spite of its technicalities, for obvious reasons.] appears possible; the mind is like a restless fly that is at once weary and active. this second is not often attained to by ordinary souls, though all men who serve god have a shadow of it. it is a very terrible state. master richard told me that before he suffered it he had not conceived that such conflict was possible to man. it was during this time that the fiend came to him in form of a woman. the imagination that cannot fix itself upon the things of god is wide-awake to all other impressions of sense. [i do not think that sir john understands what he is writing about, though he does his best to appear as if he did. i have omitted a couple of incoherent paragraphs.].... now, these two first _nights_ i think i understand, for he told me that what he suffered during his whipping in the hall and the strife of his mind with the clerk were each a kind of symbol of them. but the third, which he called the _night of the soul_ i do not understand at all. [it is remarkable that this phrase frequently occurs in the writings of st. john of the cross, though he treats it differently. until i came across it in this ms. i had always thought that the spanish mystic was the first to use it.] this only can i say of the state itself: that master richard said that it was in a manner what our lord suffered upon the rood when he cried to his father _eloi, eloi, etc._ but i can tell you something of the signs of that affliction, as they shewed themselves to master richard. of the interior state of his soul i cannot even think without terror and confusion. compared with the darkness of it, the other _nights_, he said, are but as clouds across the sun on a summer's day compared with a moonless midnight in winter. he had suffered a shadow of it before, when he was entering the contemplative state, or the prefect way of union. now it fell upon him. before i tell you how it came, i must tell you that this _night_, as he explained it, takes its occasion from some particular thought, and the thought from which it sprang you shall hear presently. when the clerk had left him, sighing, as i said, as if with a kindly weariness (to encourage the other to call for him, i suppose), master richard committed himself again to god and lay still. a fellow came in soon with his supper (for it was now growing dark), set it by him and went out. master richard took a little food, and after a while, as his custom was after repeating the name of jesu, began to think on god, on the blessed and holy trinity, and on his attributes, numbering them one by one and giving thanks for each, and marking the colour and place of each in the glory of the throne. he was too weary to say vespers or compline, and presently he fell asleep, but whether it was common sleep or not i do not know. in his sleep it seemed to him that he was walking along a path beneath trees, as he had walked on his way to london; but it was twilight, and he could not see clearly. there was none with him, and he was afraid, and did not know what he feared. he was afraid of what lay behind, and on all sides, and he was yet more afraid of what lay before him, but he knew that he could not stay nor turn. he went swiftly, he thought, and with no sound, towards some appointed place, and the twilight darkened as he went; when he looked up there was no star nor moon to be seen, and what had been branches when he set out seemed now to be a roof, so thick they were. there was no bray of stag, nor rustle of breeze, nor cry of night-bird. he tried to pray, but he could remember no prayer, and not even the healthful name of _jesu_ came to his mind. he could do nought but look outwards with his straining eyes, and inwards at his soul; and the one was now as dark as the other. he thought of me then, my children, and longed to have me there, but he knew that i was asleep in my bed and far away. he thought of his mother whom he had loved so much, but he knew that she was gone to god and had left him alone. and still, through all, his feet bore him on swiftly without sound or fatigue, though the terror and the darkness were now black as ink. he felt his hair rising upon his head, and his skin prickle, and the warmth was altogether gone from his heart, but he could not stay. and at the last his feet ceased to move, and he stood still, knowing that he was come to the place. now, i do not understand what he said to me of that place. he told me that he could see nothing; it was as if his eyes were put out, yet he knew what it was like. it was a little round place in the forest, with trees standing about it, and it was trampled hard with the footsteps of those who had come there before him. but that was no comfort to him now; for he did not know how these persons had fared, nor where were their souls. so he stood in the black darkness, knowing that he could not turn, with the horror on him so heavy that he sweated as he told me of it, and with the knowledge that something was approaching under the trees without sound of step or breathing--he did not know whether it was man or beast or fiend, he only knew that it was approaching. yet he could not pray or cry out. then he was aware that it had entered the little space where he stood, and was even now within a hand's grasp. yet he could not lift his hands to ward it off, or to pray to god, or to bless himself. then he perceived that the thing--_negotium perambulans in tenebris_ ["the business that walketh about in the dark" (ps. xc. .)]--was formless, without hands to strike or mouth to bite him with, and that it was all about him now, closing upon him. if there had been aught to touch his body, wet lips to kiss his face, or fiery eyes to look into his own, he would not have feared it with a thousandth part of the fear that he had. it was that there was no shape or face, and that it sought not his body but his soul. and when he understood that he gave a loud cry and awoke, and knew, as in a mystery, that it was no dream, but that he was indeed come to the place that he had seen, and that this _negotium_ was at his soul's heart. [there is either an omission here in the translation of sir john's original ms., or else the transcriber has dashed his pen down in horror, or sought to produce an impression of it.].... i find it impossible, my children, to make you understand in what state he was; he could not make even me understand. i can only set down a little of what he said. first, he knew that he had lost god. it was not that there was no god, but that he had lost him of his own fault and sin. he was aware that in all other places there was god and that the blessed reigned with him, but not in the place where he was, nor in his heart. in all men that ever i have met there was a certain presence of god. as the apostle told the men of athens, _ipsius enim et genus suum_; ["for we are also his offspring" (acts xvii. .)] and, again, _non longe est ab unoquoque nostrum_; ["he is not far from every one of us" (acts xvii. .)] and again, _in ipso vivimus, et movemur, et sumus_. ["in him we live, and we move, and we are" (acts xvii. .)] i have not seen a man who had not this knowledge, though maybe some, such as turks and pagans, may call it by another name. but until death, i think, all men, whatever their sins or ignorance, live and move in god's majesty. hell, master richard told me, is nothing less than the withdrawal of that presence, with other torments superadded, but this is chief. master richard told me that that black fire of hell rages wherever god is not; and that the worm gnaws in all hearts that have lost him, and know it to be by their own fault--_maxima culpa_. ["the very great fault."] there be a few men in this world--the son of god derelict is their prince--who are called to this supreme torment while they yet live--if indeed that man may be said to live who is without god--and of this company master richard was now made one. it was with him now as he had dreamed. where god is not, there can be no communion with man, for the only reason by which one perceives another's soul, or understands that it is the soul of a man and has a likeness to his own, is that both are, in some measure, in god. if we were more holy and wise we should understand for ourselves that this is so, and see, too, why it is so, for he is eyes to the blind and ears to the deaf. [i do not understand this at all. i wonder whether sir john did as he wrote it; i am quite sure that his flock did not.] for master richard, then, there was no other person in the world. there was that that fenced him from all living. our saviour christ upon the rood spoke to his blessed mother before his dereliction, but not again afterwards. there was no more that he might say to her, or to his cousin, john. this, then, was the state in which master richard lay--that _specialissimus_ of god almighty, to whom the divine love and majesty was as breath to his nostrils, meat to his mouth, and water to his body. i an say no more on that point. as to the fault by which it seemed that he had come to that state, it was the most terrible of all sins, which is presumption. holy church sets before us humility as the chief of virtues, to shew us that presumption is the chief of vices. a man may be an adulterer or a murderer or a sacrilegious person, and yet by humility may find mercy. but a man may be chaste and stainless in all his works, and a worshipper of god, but without humility he cannot come to glory. [sir john proceeds in this strain for several pages, illustrating his point by the cases of lucifer, nabuchodonosor, judas iscariot, king herod, and others.].... now the matter in which it seemed to master richard that he had sinned the sin of presumption was the old matter of the tidings he had borne to the king. it was not that the tidings were false, for he knew them for true; but yet that he had been presumptuous in bearing them. it was as though a stander-by had overheard tidings given by a king to his servant, and had presumed to hear them himself, as it were achimaas the son of sadoc. [i supposed that this obscure reference is to kings xviii. .] and more than that, that he had presumed in thinking that he could be such a man as our lord would call to such an office. he had set himself, it appeared, far above his fellows in even listening to our saviour's voice; he should rather have cried with saint peter, _exi a me quia homo peccator sum domine_. ["depart from me, for i am a sinful man, o lord" (luke v. .)] it was this sin that had driven him from god's presence. our lord had bestowed on him wonderful gifts of grace. he had visited him as he visits few others and had led him in the way of union, and he had followed, triumphing in this, giving god the glory in words only, until he had fallen as it seemed from the height of presumption to the depth of despair, and lay here now, excluded from the majesty that he desired. * * * * * now, here is a very wonderful thing, and i know not if i can make it clear. you understand, my children, a little of what i heard from master richard's lips--of what it was that he suffered. but although all this was upon him, he perceived afterwards, though not at the time, that there was something in him that had not yielded to the agony. his body was broken, and his mind amazed, and his soul obscured in this _night_, yet there was one power more, that we name the will (and that is the very essence of man, by which he shall be judged), that had not yet sunk or cried out that it was so as the fiend suggested. there was within him, he perceived afterwards, a conflict without movement. it was as when two men wrestle, their limbs are locked, they are motionless, they appear to be at rest, but in truth they are striving with might and main. so he remained all that night in this agony, not knowing that he did aught but suffer; he saw the light on the wall, and heard the cocks crow--at least he remembered these things afterwards. but his release did not come until the morning; and of that release, and its event, and how it came about, i will now tell you. how sir john went again to the cell: and of what he saw there _ecce audivimus eam in ephrata: invenimus eam in campis silvae._ behold we have heard of it in euphrata: we have found it in the fields of the wood.--_ps. cxxxi. ._ xii it is strange to think that other men went about their business in the palace, and knew nothing of what was passing. it is more strange that that morning i said mass in the country and did not faint for fear or sorrow. but it is always so, by god's loving-kindness, for no man could bear to live if he knew all that was happening in the world at one time. [sir john adds some trite reflections of an obvious character.].... there was a little heaviness upon me that morning, but i think no more than there had been every day since master richard had left us. it was not until noon that a strange event happened to me. this day was wednesday after corpus christi, the sixth day since he was gone. there was only one man that knew aught of what was passing in the interior world, and that was the ankret in the cell against the abbey, but of that you shall hear in the proper place. of what fell on that day i heard from an old priest whom i saw afterwards, and who was in the palace at that time. he was chaplain to my lord cardinal and his name was.... he told me that very early in the morning my lord sent for him and told him that he would hold an examination of master richard that day after dinner, to see if he should be put on his trial for bewitching the king. there were none who doubted that he had bewitched the king, for his grace had sat in a stupor for two days, ever since he had heard the tidings from the holy youth. he heard his masses each morning with a fallen countenance, and took a little food in private, and slept in his clothes sitting in his chair; and spoke to none, and, it seemed, heard none. though he had been always of a serious and quiet mind, loving to pray and to hear preaching more than to talk, yet this was the first of those strange visitations of god that fell upon him so frequently in his later years. those then (and especially my lord cardinal) who now saw him in such a state, did not doubt that there was sorcery in the matter, and that master richard was the sorcerer; for the tale of the quinte essence--of which at that time men knew nothing--and how that he could not say _paternoster_ when it was put to him;--all this was run about the court like fire. but the tale of the clerk who went to him and sought to shake him, i heard nothing of, save from master richard's own lips. none knew of what had happened, and some afterwards thought that it was the fiend who went to master richard, but some others that it was indeed one of the clerks of the court who had perhaps stolen the keys, and gone in to get credit to himself by persuading master richard to confess that all was a delusion. for myself, i do not know what to think. [i suspect that sir john was inclined to think it was the devil, for at this point he discusses at some length various cases in which satan so acted. he seems to imply that it was a peculiar and cynical pleasure to the lord of evil to disguise himself as an ecclesiastic.].... now, old master ... said mass before my lord cardinal at seven o'clock, and then went to his own chamber, but he was immediately sent for again to my lord, who appeared to be in a great agitation. my lord told him that one had come from the ankret to bid him let master richard go, for that it was not the young man who was afflicting the king, but god almighty. "but he shall not play pilate's wife with me," said my lord in a great fury, "i shall go through with this matter. see that you be with me, master priest, at noon, and we will see justice done. i doubt not that the young man must go for his trial." he told the clerk, too, that master blytchett was greatly concerned about his grace, and that the court would be in an uproar if somewhat were not done at once. he had sat three hours last night with ... and ... and ... and ..., [it would be interesting to know who were these persons.] and they had all declared the same thing. but he said nothing of the whipping of master richard, and i truly believe that he knew nothing of it. so the hour for the questioning was fixed at noon, and the place to be in my lord cardinal's privy parlour. * * * * * now that morning, as i told you, i was no more than usually heavy. i remembered master richard's name before god upon the altar, and at ten o'clock i went to dinner in the parsonage. it was a very bright hot day, and i had the windows wide, and listened to the bees that were very busy in the garden. i remember that i wondered whether they knew aught of my dear lad, for i hold that they are very near to god, more so than perhaps any of his senseless creatures, and that is why holy church on easter eve says such wonderful things about them, and the work that they do. [this refers to the _exultet_ sung by the deacon in the roman rite on holy saturday.] for they fashion first wax and then honey. it is the wax that in the church gives light and honour to god, and it is to the honey-comb that god's word is compared by david. [sir john continues in this strain for a page or two.].... it is not strange then that i thought about the bees, and the knowledge that they have. after i had done dinner, i slept a little as my custom is, and the last sound that i heard, and the first upon awaking, was the drone of the bees. when i awakened i thought that i would walk down to master richard's house and see how all fared. so i took my staff and set out. it was very cool and dark in the wood, through which i had come up six days before walking in the summer night with the young man, and all was very quiet. i could hear only the hum of the flies, and, as i drew nearer, the running of the water over the stones of the road, where it crosses it beside the little bridge. then i came out beside the gate into the meadow, and my eyes were dazzled by the hot light of the sun after the darkness of the wood. i stood by the gate a good while, leaning my arms upon it (for i felt very heavy and weary), and looking across the meadow yellow with flowers to the green hazels beyond, and between me and the wood the air shook as if in terror or joy, i knew not which. i could see, too, the open door of the hut, and its domed roof of straw, and the wicket leaning against the wall as he had left it, and on either side the may-trees lifted their bright heads. my children, i am not ashamed to tell you that i could not see all this very clearly, for my eyes were dim at the thought that the master of it was not here, and that i knew not where he was nor how he fared. i prayed saint giles with all my might that i might see him here again, and walk with him as i had walked so often. and then at the end, a little after i had heard the _angelus_ ring from over the wood, and had saluted our lady and entreated her for master richard, i thought that i would go up and see the hut. as i went i perceived that here, too, the bees were busy in the noon of the day, going to and fro intently, but i was to see yet more of them, for i heard a great droning about me. at first i could not perceive whence it came, but presently i saw a great ball of them gathering on the doorway of the hut, as their custom is in summer-time. i was astonished at that, i do not know why, but it seemed to me that bees were all about me, _semitam meam et funiculum meum investigantes; omnes vias meas praevidentes._ ["searching out my path and my line; foreseeing all my ways" (from ps. cxxxviii. , .)] well, i looked on them awhile, but they seemed as if they would do me no harm, yet i did not wish to go into the house while they hung there, so i was content with looking in from where i stood. i could not see very much, my eyes were too weary with the sunshine that beat on my head, and it was, perhaps, god's purpose that i should not go in to see what i was not worthy to see. i had, too, something of fear in my heart; it was like the fear that i had had when i looked on master richard six days before as he prayed. so i stood a little distance from the door and observed it and the bees. of the inside of the but i could see no more than the beaten mud floor for a little space within, and through the veil of bees that swung this way and that working their mysteries, the green light of the window looking upon the hazel wood, above which was the image of the mother of god. then on a sudden my fear came on me strongly, and i cried out what i think was master richard's name for i thought that he was near me, but there was no answer, and after i had looked a little more, i turned back by the way i had come. now, here, my children, happened a marvellous thing. when i reached the gate and had gone through it, i turned round again towards the hut, ashamed of the terror that had lain on me as i walked down, for i had walked like one in a nightmare, not daring to turn my head. and as i turned, for one instant i saw master richard himself, in his brown kirtle and white sleeves standing at the door of his hut, with his arms out as if to stretch himself, or else as our saviour stretched them on the rood. i could not observe his face, for in an instant he was gone, before i had time to see him clearly, but i am sure that his face was merry, for it was at this hour that he found his release before my lord cardinal, and cried out, as you shall hear in the proper place. i stood there a long while, stretching out my own hands and crying on him by name, but there was no more to be seen but the hut and its open door, and the may-trees on either side, and the wood behind, and the yellow-flowered meadow before me, and no sound but the drone of the bees and the running of the water. and i dared not go up again, or set foot in the meadow. * * * * * so i went home again, and told no man, for i thought that the vision was for myself alone, and as night fell the messenger came to bid me come to town, and to deliver to me the letter from the old priest of whom i have spoken. how one came to master priest: how master priest came to the king's bedchamber: and of what he heard of the name of jesus _dum anxiaretur cor meum: in petra exaltasti me._ when my heart was in anguish: thou hast exalted me on a rock. --_ps. lx. ._ xiii this was the letter that i read in my parlour that night, as the man in his livery stood beside me, dusty with riding. i have it still (it is in the mass-book that stands beside my desk; you can find it there after i am gone to give my account.).... "reverend and right worshipful sir john chaldfield,-- "there is a young man here named master richard raynal, who tells us that you are his friend. he desires to see you before his death, for he has been set upon and will not live many days. his grace has ordered that you shall be brought with speed, for he loves this young man and counts him a servant of god. he is with master raynal as i write. i fear this may be heavy news for you, sir john, so i will write no more, but i recommend myself to you, and pray that you may be comforted and speeded here by the grace of god, which ever have you in his keeping. "written at westminster, the wednesday after corpus xti. "yours, "......." i asked the fellow who brought the letter whether he could tell me any more, but all that he could say was that he was in the court outside my lord cardinal's privy stairs--where the people were assembled to see master richard come out, and that he had seen a confusion, and blows struck, and the glaivemen run in to help him. then he had seen no more, but he thought master richard had been taken back again to the palace, and heard that he had been sore wounded and beaten, and was not like to live. * * * * * i will not tell you, my children, of my ride to london that night, save that i do not think i ceased praying from the instant that i set out to the instant when i came up as the dawn began behind lambeth house, and we went over in the ferry. i cried in my heart with david, _fili mi, fili mi; quis mihi tribuat ut ego moriar pro te, fili mi, fili mi?_ ["my son, my son! who would grant that i might die for thee, my son, my son?"-- kings xviii. .] and i prayed two things--that god might forgive me for having allowed the lad to go, and that i might find him alive. more than that i dared not pray, and i know not even now if i should have prayed the first. it was a wonderful dawn that i saw as i crossed over, with a mist coming up from the water as a promise of great heat, and above it the high roofs and towers like the lovely city of god, and over all the sky was of a golden colour with lines of pearl across it. it comforted me a little that i should come to master richard so. even at that hour there were many awake. there was one great fellow by the ferry, that was looking across towards the palace; and i think it must have been he who had taken master richard over for love of saint giles and saint denis, but i did not know that part of the tale at that time, and i never saw him again. in the court and passages, too, that we went along there were persons going to and fro. one told me afterwards that never had he seen such a movement at that hour since the night that the king's mother died. they were all waiting for tidings of the lad, and they eyed me very narrowly, and i heard my name run before me as i went. at the last we came to a great door, and we were let through, and i was in the king's bed-chamber. it was a quiet room, and i will describe it to you now, although i saw little of it at that time. * * * * * in the centre, with its head against the wall, stood a tall bed, with a canopy over it, and four posts of twisted wood, carved very cunningly with little shields that bore the instruments of our saviour's passion. on the tapestry beneath the canopy, above the pillow, were the arms of the king, wrought in blue and red and gold. the hangings on the walls were all of a dark blue, wrought with devices of all kinds, and they were hanged from a ledge of wood beneath the ceiling such as i have never seen before or since. the ceiling was of painted wood, divided into deep squares, and in the centre of each was a coat. the floor was all over rushes, the cleanest and the most fragrant that i have ever smelled. i think that there must have been herbs and bay leaves mixed with them. i saw all this afterwards, for when i came in the curtains were all drawn against the windows, save against one that let in the cool air from the river and a little pale light of morning, and two candles burned on a table beside the bed. the room was very dark, but i could see that a dozen persons stood against the walls, and one by every door. but i had no eyes for them, and went quickly across the rushes, and as i came round the foot of the bed, i heard my name whispered again, and the king stood up from where he had been kneeling. i have already described to you his appearance at that time, so i will say no more here than that he was in all his clothes which were a little disordered, and that his head was bare. he had been weeping, too, for his eyes were red and swollen, and his lips shook as he put out his hand. but he could not speak. i kneeled down and kissed his hand quickly and stood up immediately. master richard who was lying on his left side, turned away from me, so that i could not see his face, but i knew he was not yet dead, else he would have been laid upon his back, but he was as still as death. his head was all in a bandage, except on this side where his long hair hung across his cheek, and his bare arm lay across the rich coverlet, brown to the elbow with his digging, and white as milk at the shoulder. when i saw that i kneeled down too, and hid my face in my hands, and although i felt the king lay his fingers on my shoulder i could not look up. but it was not all for sorrow that i wept; i was thanking god almighty who permitted me to see master richard alive once more. i do not know how long it was before i looked up, but all the folks were gone from the room save the king, and master blytchett, the physician, who sat on the other side of the bed. i went round presently to the other side, the king going with me, and there i saw master richard's face. i cannot tell you all that i saw in it, for there are no words that can tell of its peace; his eyes were closed below the little healed scar that he had taken in the monastery, and his lips were open and smiling; they moved two or three times as i looked, as if he were talking with some man, and then they ceased and smiled again. but all was very little, as if the soul were far down in some secret chamber with company that it loved. i asked presently if he had received his maker, and the king told me yes, and shrift too, and anointing--all the night before when he had come to himself for a while and called for a priest. he had spoken my name, too, at that time and they had told him that one was gone to bring me and at that he seemed content. master blytchett told me soon that i could be gone for a while, to take some meat, and that he would send for me if master richard awoke. but i said no to that; until the king bade me go, saying that he, too, would remain, and pledging his word that i should be called. so i went away into a parlour, and washed myself, and took some food, and after a while the old clerk that had written the letter to me, came in and saluted me. i was desirous to know how all had come about, so we sat there a great while in the window seat, with the door a little open into the bed-chamber, and he told me the tale. i did not speak one word till he had done. this was how it came about. * * * * * master richard was sent for from his cell to the parlour of my lord cardinal, but my lord was not ready for him, and he had to stand a great while in the court to wait his pleasure. the rumour ran about as to who it was, and a great number of persons assembled from all parts, some from the palace, and some from the streets. these had so cried out against the young man, that the billmen were sent for from the guard-room to keep him from their violence. this priest had looked out from a window at the noise, and seeing the crowd, had entreated my lord to have the prisoner in without any more delay. so he was brought in, and one was left to keep the little door that led to the privy stairs up which he came. it was then that this priest had seen him face to face, and i will try to write down his words as he told them me. "i came into the parlour," he said, "through the door behind my lord's chair, as master raynal was brought in by the other door. "i have never seen such a sight, sir john, as i saw then. he was in his white kirtle only, with the five wounds upon his breast, and he had on his sandals. but his face was as that of a dead man: his eyelids were sunk upon his cheek, and his lips hung open so that i could see his bare teeth. "there were two men who led him by the arms, and he would have fallen but for their assistance, and i immediately whispered to my lord to let him sit down. but my lord was busy and anxious at that time, for he had but just come from the king, who was no better and would take no meat nor speak at all. so he paid no heed to me, and presently began to ask questions of master raynal, urging him to confess what it was that he had done, and threatening him with this and that if he would not speak. "but master raynal did not speak or lift his eyes; it seemed as if he did not hear one word. "my lord told him presently that if temporal pains did not move him, perhaps, it was that he desired spiritual--for my lord was very angry, and scarce knew what he was saying. but master richard made no answer. i will tell you, sir john, plainly, that i thought he was but a fool to anger my lord so by his silence, for it could not be that he did not hear: my lord bawled loud enough to awaken the dead, and i saw the folk behind, some laughing and some grave. "it would be full half an hour after noon before my lord had done his questions, and lay back in his chair wrathful at getting no answer, though the men that held master raynal shook him from side to side. "then it was that the end came. "i was observing master raynal very closely, wondering whether he were mad or deaf, and on a sudden he lifted his eyes, and his lips closed. he appeared to be looking at my lord, but it was another that he saw. "i cannot describe to you, sir john, what that change was that came to him, save by saying that i think lazarus must have looked like that, as he heard our saviour christ's voice calling to him as he lay in the tomb. it was no longer the face of a dead man, but of a living one, and as that change came, i perceived that my lord cardinal had raised himself in his chair, and was staring, i suppose, at the young man too. but i could not take my eyes off master raynal's face. "then on a sudden master raynal smiled and drew a great breath and cried out. it was but one word; it was the holy name of jesus. "i perceived immediately that my lord cardinal had stood up at that cry, but then he sat down again, and he made a motion with his hand, and the men that held master raynal wheeled him about, and they went through the crowd towards the door. "my lord cardinal turned to me, and i have never seen him so moved, but still he could not speak, and while we looked upon one another there was a great uproar everywhere--in the court and in the palace. "i stood there, not knowing what to do, and my lord pushed past to the window. he, too, cried out as he looked down, and then ran from the room, and as i was following there broke in one by the door behind the chair. "'where is my lord cardinal?' he cried; 'the king has sent for him.' "well, the end of the matter was that they brought master raynal back again, wounded and battered near to death. the crowd that had been attendant for him had set on him as he came out--they should have sent more bill-men before to keep the road, and the king met him in the way (for he had come to his senses again), and turned as white as ashes once more, crying out that his own craven heart had slain one more [if this king was henry vi, the reference may be to joan of arc. but henry was only a child at the time of her death. at the best this can be only conjecture.] servant of god, but i know not what he meant by that. master raynal was taken to the king's bed-chamber, and my lord came after. and the king has been with him, praying and moaning ever since." then i put one question to the priest. "my lord cardinal?" i said. "no man but the king has seen my lord cardinal since yesterday." * * * * * we sat a while longer in silence, and then master blytchett came in to see me. of sir john's meditations in westminster palace _et existimabam cognoscere hoc: labor est ante me_ and i desired that i might know this thing: labour in my sight.-_ps. lxxii. ._ xiv master blytchett told me that master richard was still asleep. he had blooded him last night, and reduced the fever, but god only could save his life. for himself, he thought that the young man would die before night, and he did not know whether he would speak again. i was drawn towards master blytchett; he seemed a sour fellow with sweetness beneath; and i love such souls as that. i loved him more than i did the king either at that time or afterward. the king appeared to me at that time a foolish fellow--god forgive me!--for i had not then heard what master richard had to say of him; nor that such opinion was to be all part of his passion. i thanked master blytchett for what he had done for my lad; but he burst out upon me. "i was all against him," he said, "at the beginning. i thought him a crack-brained fool, and a meddler. but now--" and he would say no more. it seemed that many were like that at the court. they were near all against him at first; but when they knew that he was wounded to death; and had heard what the king had said of him; and seen my lord cardinal's rosy face running with tears of pity and anger as he tore the lad out of their hands; and gossipped a little with the porter of the monastery; and listened to the holy ankret roaring out in his cell against hierusalem that slew the prophets;--and, most of all, remembered, or told one another of master richard's face as he came out from the privy staircase before he was struck down--like the melitenses--_convertentes se dicebant eum esse deum_. ["changing their minds, they said he was a god" (acts xxviii. .)] * * * * * i talked with many that morning (for i could do nothing for my lad), who came in to see one who knew him so well, and had been his friend in the country. and after dinner my lord cardinal came in to see me, and i was brought back to the parlour. his ruddy face was all blotched and lined with sorrow or age, and for a while he could say nothing. he went up and down with his sanguine robes flying behind him, and stayed to look out of the window at the boats that went by until i thought that he had forgotten me. and at the last he spoke. "i do not know what to say to you, sir john, or what to say to god almighty on this matter. it appears to me that we have all been blind and deaf adders, and with the venom of adders, too, beneath our tongues--except one or two rude fellows, and my lord king who knew him for a prophet, and the ankret, who tells us we shall all be damned for what we have done, and yourself. there be so many of these wild asses that bray and kick, that when he came we did not distinguish him to be the colt on which our lord came to town--and now, as it was then, _dominus eum necessarium habet_." ["the lord hath need of him" (luke xix. .)] "but i know what i wish to be said to him, though i dare not say it myself, or set eyes on him--and that is that i pray him to forgive us, and to speak our names before the lord god when he comes before his majesty." "i will tell him that, my lord," i said softly, for i did not doubt that master richard would speak before he died. after a while longer my lord cardinal asked how he did, and i told him that he had lain very quiet all day without speaking or moving, and then, for i knew what my lord wanted, i bade him in jesu's name to come in and look on him. for a while he would not, and then he came, and knelt down beside the king. master richard was lying now upon his back, with his hands hidden and clasped upon his breast, and his lips were moving a little without sound. i think that he had never had so long and so heavenly a colloquy as he was enjoying then. i do not know whether it were the cardinal's presence that disturbed him, or whether in that secret place where his soul was retired he heard what had been said by us, but he spoke aloud for the first time that day, and this is what he said:-- "_et dimitte nobis debita nostra; sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris._" ["and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us."] i saw my lord's face go down upon his hands, and the king's face rise and look at him. and presently my lord went out. * * * * * i cannot tell you, my children, how that day passed, for it was like no day that i have ever spent. it appeared to me that there was no time, but that all stood still. without, the palace was as still as death on the one side--for the king had ordered it so--and on the other there was the noise from the river, little and clear and distinct, of the water washing in the sedges and against the stones, and the cries of the boatmen on the further shore, and the rattle of their oars as they took men across. once, as i stood by the window saying my office, a boat went by with folk talking in it, and i heard enough of what they said to know that they were speaking of master richard, and i heard one telling the tale to another, and saw him point to the windows of the palace. but when they saw me look out they gave over talking. a little after the evening bell master blytchett took the king out to his supper, and i was left alone with master richard, but i knew that there were servants in the passage whom i might call if i needed them. so i sat down by the pillow and looked at him a great while. i will tell you, my children, something of what i thought at this time, for it is at such times when the eyes are washed clean by tears that the soul looks out upon truth and sees it as it is. [i have omitted a great number of sir john's reflections. many of them are too trite even for this work, and others are so much confused that it is useless to transcribe them. sir john seems to have been dearly fond of sermonizing. even these that i have retained and set within brackets can be omitted in reading by those who prefer to supply their own comment.].... * * * * * {i thought of the _ironia_ that marks our lord's dealings. master richard had come to bring tidings of another's passion, and he found his own in the bringing of it. it was as when children play at the hanging of a murderer or a thief, and one is set to play the part of prisoner and another to hang him, and then at the end when all is prepared they turn upon the hangman and bid him prepare himself for whipping and death instead of the other, or maybe both are to be hanged. but our lord is not cruel, like such children, but kind, and i think that he acts so to shew us that life is nothing but a play and a pretence, and that his will must be done, however much we rebel at it. he teaches us, too, that the blows we receive and even death itself are only seeming, though they hurt us at the time, but that we must play in a gallant and merry spirit, and be tender, too, and forgive one another easily, and that he will set all right and allot to each his reward at the end of the playing. and, since it is but a play, we are none of us kings or cardinals or poor men in reality; we are all of us mere children of our father, and upon one is set a crown for a jest, and another is robed in sanguine, and another in a brown kirtle or a white; and at the end the trinkets are all put back again in the press, ready for another day and other children, and we all go to bed as god made us. but you must not think, my children, that our life is a little thing because of this; i only mean that one thing is as little and as great as another, and that maids maying in the country are as much about god's business as kings and cardinals who strive in palaces, and who give to this man a collar of saint spirit, and to that man a collar of hemp. it was for this reason, maybe, that our lord did all things when he was upon earth. he rode upon his colt as a king; he reigned upon the rood; he sat at meat with sinners; he wrought tables and chairs at the carpenter's; he fashioned sparrows, as some relate, out of clay, and made them fly; and he said that not a sparrow falls without his love and intention; and he did all and said all in the same spirit and mind, and at the end he smiled and put on his crown again, and sat down for ever _ad dexteram dei_, that he might let us do the same, and help us by his grace, especially in the sacraments, to be merry and confident. [this is a very puzzling philosophy. it is surely either very profound or very shallow. but it certainly is not cynical. sir john is incapable of such a feeble emotion as that.].... * * * * * this then, too, i thought at that time. it is marvellous how our lord sets his seal upon all that we do, if we will but attend to his working, and not think too highly upon what we do ourselves. he had caused master richard to wear his five wounds until he loved them, and to set his meat, too, in their order, and then he had bidden his servant tell him that he did not need the piece of linen, for that he should bear the wounds upon his body. and this he fulfilled; for, as master blytchett told me, there were neither more nor less than five wounds upon the young man's body, which he had received from the crowd that set on him, besides the bruises and the stripes. he had caused master richard, too, to be haled from judge to judge, as himself was haled; to be deemed master by some, and named fool by others; to be borne in a boat by one who loved him; to be arrayed in a white robe to be judged without justice; to be dumb _sicut ovis ad occisionem ... et quasi agnus coram tondente se_ ["as a sheep to the slaughter ... as a lamb before his shearer" (is. liii. .)], with many other points and marks, besides that which fell afterwards, when a rich man, like him of arimathy, cared for his burying, and strewed herbs and bay leaves and myrtle upon his body. there was the matter, too, of the bees that i had seen. [sir john lays great stress upon the bees; i cannot understand why. he says that they betokened great wealth and happiness.].... * * * * * and again there was the matter of the seven days that master richard fulfilled from the time of his setting out from his house, to the time that he entered into his heavenly mansion. seven days are the time of perfection; it was in seven days that god almighty made the world and all that is in it; there were seven years of famine in egypt in which joseph gathered store, and seven years of plenty. [i cannot bring myself to follow sir john through the whole of the old and new testaments.].... and it was in seven days that master richard raynal completed his course, from the sowing of the wheat and wine on corpus xti, to his joyful harvest in heaven....} * * * * * i thought, too, at this time of many other things, such as you may suppose--of master richard's little cell in the country which would never see him again (for i did not know at this time what the king intended of his grace), and of the beasts that awaited him so lamentably, and then of this great room hung all over with royalty whither it had pleased god that his darling should come to die. i looked, too, very often upon master richard as he lay before me, upon his clean pallour, paler than i had ever seen it, and his slender fingers roughened by the spade, and his strong arm, and his smiling lips, and his closed eyes that looked within upon what i was not worthy to see, and i wondered often what it was that he was saying to our lord and the blessed, and what they were saying to him, and i prayed that my name might be mentioned amongst them, lest i should be a castaway after all that i had heard and seen. when it was dark (for i dared not kindle the candles) the king came in again, and as he came in master richard spoke my name, and moved his hand towards me on the coverlet. how master richard went to god _transivimus per ignem et aquam: et eduxisti nos in refrigerium._ we have passed through fire and water: and thou hast brought us out into a refreshment.--_ps. lxv. ._ xv the king presently kissed master richard's hand and asked his pardon and his prayers, saying that he had known nothing of what went forward during those two days, until the crying of jesus' name by master richard before the cardinal, but blaming his own craven heart, as he called it. and when master richard had spoken awhile, he asked the king to go out, for that he had much to say to me in secret. so the king went out very softly, and set other guards at the doors, and we two sat there a long while. * * * * * i was astonished at master richard's strength and courage, for he had spoken aloud to the king, but when the king was gone out, he spoke in a lower voice, holding my hand. it was very dark, for he would have no lights, and i could see no more of him but a little of his hair, and the pallour of his face beneath it, until the morn came and the end came. * * * * * he told me first of what he had done, and what had been done to him since a week ago, when we had kissed one another at the lych-gate--all as i have told it to you. he talked quietly, as i have said, but he laughed a little now and again, and once or twice his voice trembled with tears as he related our lord's loving-kindness to him. (i have never known any man who loved jesu christ more than this man loved him.) i asked him a few questions, and he answered them, but the effect of all that he said was what i have written down here, and sometimes i have his very words as he spoke them. at last he came to the end of what he had to say, and began to tell me of the _night of the soul_, and here he talked in a very low voice so that i could scarcely hear what he said, and of what he said i did not understand one half, [i am thankful that sir john recognized his own limitations.] for it was full of mysteries such as other contemplative souls alone would recognise--for all contemplatives, as you know, relate the same things to one another which they have seen and heard, and the words that each uses the other understands, but other men do not; for they speak of things that they have seen indeed, but for which there are no proper human words, so that they have to do the best that they can. he told me that the state that i have described to you continued until he came before my lord cardinal, so that although he saw men's faces and heard their words they were no more to him than shadows and whisperings; for since (as it appeared to him) he had lost god by his own fault there was no longer anything by which he might communicate with man. yet all this while there was the conflict of which i have spoken. there was that in him, which we name the will, which continued tense and strong, striving against despair. neither his mind nor his heart could help him in that _night_; his mind informed him that he had sinned deadly by presumption, his heart found nowhere god to love; and all that, though he told himself that god was loveable, and adorable, and that he could not fall into hell save by his own purpose and intention. yet, in spite of all, and when all had failed him, his will strove against despair (which is the antichrist of humility [a curious phrase, and, i think, rather a good one. i suspect it was originally master richard's.]), though he did not recognise until afterwards that he was striving, for he thought himself lost, as i have said. then a little after noon, at the time when i saw his image at the door of his cell, stretching himself as if after labour or sleep, he had his release. now this is the one matter of which he did not tell me fully, nor would he answer when i asked him except by the words, "_secretum meum mihi_." ["my secret is mine."] but this i know, that he saw our lord. and this i know, too, that with that sight his understanding came back to him, and he perceived for himself that charity was all. he perceived, also, that he had been striving, and amiss. he had striven to bear his own sins, and for those few hours our lord had permitted him to bear the weight. he who bears heaven and earth upon his shoulders, and who bore the burden of the sins of the world in the garden and upon the rood, had allowed this sweet soul to feel the weight of his own few little sins for those few hours. when he saw that he made haste to cast them off again upon him who alone can carry them and live, and to cry upon his name; and he understood in that moment, he said, as never before, something of that passion and of the meaning of those five wounds that he had adored so long in ignorance. but what it was that he saw, and how it was that our lord shewed himself, whether on the rood, or as a child with the world in his hands, or as crowned with sharp-thorned roses, or who was with him, if any were; i do not know. it was then that he said "_secretum mihi._" and when master richard had said that, he added "_vere languores nostros ipse tulit; et dolores nostros ipse portavit._" ["surely he hath borne our infirmities, and carried our sorrows" (is. liii. .)] * * * * * he lay silent a good while after that, and i did not speak to him. when he spoke again, it was to bring to my mind the masses that were to be said, and then he spoke of the quinte essence, and said that it was to be mine if i wished for it; and all other things of his were to be mine to do as i pleased with them, for he had no kin in the world. and after he had spoken of these things the king came in timidly from the parlour, and stood by the door; i could see the pallour of his face against the hangings. "come in, my lord king," said master richard very faintly. "i have done what was to be done, and there now is nothing but to make an end." the king knelt down at the further side of the bed. "is it the priest you want, master hermit?" he asked. "sir john will read the prayers presently," said master richard. i heard the king swallow in his throat before he spoke again. "and you will remember us all," he said, "before god's majesty, and in particular my poor soul in its passion." "how could i forget that?" asked master richard, and by his voice i knew that he laughed merrily to himself. i asked him whether he would have lights. "no, my father," he said, "there will be light enough." * * * * * it would be an hour later, i should suppose, after master blytchett was come back, when he put out his hand again, and i knew that he wished for the prayers. now there was only starlight, for he would have no candles, and the moon was not yet risen. so i went across to the parlour door, and as i went through i could see that the chamber was full of persons all silent, but it was too dark to see who they were. i asked one for a candle, and presently one was brought, and i saw that my lord cardinal was there, and ... and ... [the names are omitted as usual. this discreet scribe is very tiresome.] and many others. it was such a death-bed as a king might have. so i read the appointed prayers, kneeling on my knees in the doorway, and i was answered by those behind me. when i had done that, i stood up to go back, and my lord cardinal caught me by the sleeve. "for the love of jesu," he said, "ask if we may come in." i went back and leaned over master richard, taking his hand in my own. "my lord and the rest desire to come in, my son," i said. "if they may come, press my hand." he pressed my hand, and i spoke in a low voice, bidding them to come in. so they came in noiselessly, one after another; i could see their faces moving, but no more--my lord cardinal and the great nobles and the grooms and the rest--till the room was half full of them. the door was put to behind them, but i could see the line of light that shewed it, where the candle burned in the parlour beyond; and i could hear the sound of their breathing and the rustle once and again of their feet upon the rushes. then i knelt down, when the others had knelt, and waited for the agony to begin, when i should begin the last commendation. my children, i have prayed by many death-beds, but i have never seen one like this. the curtains were wide, and the windows, behind me, that he might have breath to send out his spirit; and without, as i saw when i turned to kneel, the heavens were bright with stars. this was all the light that was in the room; it was no more than dark twilight, and i could see no more of him than what i saw before, the glimmer of his face upon the pillow and his long hair beside it. his fingers were in mine, but they were very cold by now. but he had said that there would be light enough, and so there was. it may have been half an hour afterwards that the room began to lighten softly, as the sky brightened at moonrise, and i could see a little more plainly. his eyes were closed, and he seemed to be breathing very softly through his lips. then the moon rose, and the light lay upon the floor at my side. then a little after it was upon the fringes of the coverlet, and it crept up moment by moment across the leopards and lilies that were broidered in gold and blue. at last it lay half across the bed, and i could see the king's face very pale and melancholy upon the other side, and master blytchett a little behind him. and presently it reached master richard's hand and my own that lay together, but my arm was so numbed that i could feel nothing in it; i could see only that his fingers were in mine. so the light crept up his arm to the shoulder, and when it reached his face we saw that he was gone to his reward. of his burying _quam dilecta tabernacula tua: domine virtutum._ how lovely are thy tabernacles: o lord of hosts.--_ps. lxxxiii. ._ xvi it was upon the next day that we took master richard's body down again to the country, and there was such an attendant company as i should not have thought that all london held. the king had ordered a great plenty of tapers and hangings and a herse such as is used.... [the ms. ends abruptly at the foot of the page.] blown to bits, a tale of the krakatoa volcanic explosion, by r.m. ballantyne. ________________________________________________________________________ this book is a most enjoyable read. we can, however, detect that ballantyne had been reading up various works by w.h.g. kingston and by g. manville fenn. it's just the knowledge of forest life in java and sumatra that makes us think that. but that knowledge is good, for it makes those parts of the book that take place in these forests ring all the more true. as so often with victorian authors writing for teenagers there is a delightful coloured auxiliary hero. but there is another even more important auxiliary hero, van der kemp, and it is this man and his doings that form the real interest of this story. he had made himself a home in an island of the krakatoa group, and a very interesting home it is, too. he travels about, mostly, in a three-seater canoe of the rob roy type, that seems able to travel great distances over the sea, sailing some of the way, and to withstand heavy weather, in a most surprising manner. there is a good description of the eruption, or rather explosion, of krakatoa. this was one of the major geological events of the century, and might well have been taken for granted, with the author assuming that his youthful readers knew all about it, but, thank goodness, he does not. ________________________________________________________________________ blown to bits, a tale of the krakatoa volcanic explosion, by r.m. ballantyne. chapter one. the play commences. blown to bits; bits so inconceivably, so ineffably, so "microscopically" small that--but let us not anticipate. about the darkest hour of a very dark night, in the year , a large brig lay becalmed on the indian ocean, not far from that region of the eastern world which is associated in some minds with spices, volcanoes, coffee, and piratical junks, namely, the malay archipelago. two men slowly paced the brig's quarterdeck for some time in silence, as if the elemental quietude which prevailed above and below had infected them. both men were broad, and apparently strong. one of them was tall; the other short. more than this the feeble light of the binnacle-lamp failed to reveal. "father," said the tall man to the short one, "i do like to hear the gentle pattering of the reef-points on the sails; it is so suggestive of peace and rest. doesn't it strike you so?" "can't say it does, lad," replied the short man, in a voice which, naturally mellow and hearty, had been rendered nautically harsh and gruff by years of persistent roaring in the teeth of wind and weather. "more suggestive to me of lost time and lee-way." the son laughed lightly, a pleasant, kindly, soft laugh, in keeping with the scene and hour. "why, father," he resumed after a brief pause, "you are so sternly practical that you drive all the sentiment out of a fellow. i had almost risen to the regions of poetry just now, under the pleasant influences of nature." "glad i got hold of 'ee, lad, before you rose," growled the captain of the brig--for such the short man was. "when a young fellow like you gets up into the clouds o' poetry, he's like a man in a balloon--scarce knows how he got there; doesn't know very well how he's to get down, an' has no more idea where he's goin' to, or what he's drivin' at, than the man in the moon. take my advice, lad, an' get out o' poetical regions as fast as ye can. it don't suit a young fellow who has got to do duty as first mate of his father's brig and push his way in the world as a seaman. when i sent you to school an' made you a far better scholar than myself, i had no notion they was goin' to teach you poetry." the captain delivered the last word with an emphasis which was meant to convey the idea of profound but not ill-natured scorn. "why, father," returned the young man, in a tone which plainly told of a gleeful laugh within him, which was as yet restrained, "it was not school that put poetry into me--if indeed there be any in me at all." "what was it, then?" "it was mother," returned the youth, promptly, "and surely you don't object to poetry in _her_." "object!" cried the captain, as though speaking in the teeth of a nor'wester. "of course not. but then, nigel, poetry in your mother _is_ poetry, an' she can _do_ it, lad--screeds of it--equal to anything that dibdin, or, or,--that other fellow, you know, i forget his name-- ever put pen to--why, your mother is herself a poem! neatly made up, rounded off at the corners, french-polished and all shipshape. ha! you needn't go an' shelter yourself under _her_ wings, wi' your inflated, up in the clouds, reef-point patterin', balloon-like nonsense." "well, well, father, don't get so hot about it; i won't offend again. besides, i'm quite content to take a very low place so long as you give mother her right position. we won't disagree about that, but i suspect that we differ considerably about the other matter you mentioned." "what other matter?" demanded the sire. "my doing duty as first mate," answered the son. "it must be quite evident to you by this time, i should think, that i am not cut out for a sailor. after all your trouble, and my own efforts during this long voyage round the cape, i'm no better than an amateur. i told you that a youth taken fresh from college, without any previous experience of the sea except in boats, could not be licked into shape in so short a time. it is absurd to call me first mate of the _sunshine_. that is in reality mr moor's position--" "no, it isn't, nigel, my son," interrupted the captain, firmly. "mr moor is _second_ mate. _i_ say so, an' if i, the skipper and owner o' this brig, don't know it, i'd like to know who does! now, look here, lad. you've always had a bad habit of underratin' yourself an' contradictin' your father. i'm an old salt, you know, an' i tell 'ee that for the time you've bin at sea, an' the opportunities you've had, you're a sort o' walkin' miracle. you're no more an ammytoor than i am, and another voyage or two will make you quite fit to work your way all over the ocean, an' finally to take command o' this here brig, an' let your old father stay at home wi'--wi'--" "with the poetess," suggested nigel. "just so--wi' the equal o' dibdin, not to mention the other fellow. now it seems to me--. how's 'er head?" the captain suddenly changed the subject here. nigel, who chanced to be standing next the binnacle, stooped to examine the compass, and the flood of light from its lamp revealed a smooth but manly and handsome face which seemed quite to harmonise with the cheery voice that belonged to it. "nor'-east-and-by-east," he said. "are 'ee sure, lad?" "your doubting me, father, does not correspond with your lately expressed opinion of my seamanship; does it?" "let me see," returned the captain, taking no notice of the remark, and stooping to look at the compass with a critical eye. the flood of light, in this case, revealed a visage in which good-nature had evidently struggled for years against the virulent opposition of wind and weather, and had come off victorious, though not without evidences of the conflict. at the same time it revealed features similar to those of the son, though somewhat rugged and red, besides being smothered in hair. "vulcan must be concoctin' a new brew," he muttered, as he gazed inquiringly over the bow, "or he's stirring up an old one." "what d'you mean, father?" "i mean that there's somethin' goin' on there-away--in the neighbourhood o' sunda straits," answered the captain, directing attention to that point of the compass towards which the ship's head was turned. "darkness like this don't happen without a cause. i've had some experience o' them seas before now, an' depend upon it that vulcan is stirring up some o' the fires that are always blazin' away, more or less, around the straits settlements." "by which you mean, i suppose, that one of the numerous volcanoes in the malay archipelago has become active," said nigel; "but are we not some five or six hundred miles to the sou'-west of sunda? surely the influence of volcanic action could scarcely reach so far." "so far!" repeated the captain, with a sort of humph which was meant to indicate mild contempt; "that shows how little you know, with all your book-learnin', about volcanoes." "i don't profess to know much, father," retorted nigel in a tone of cheery defiance. "why, boy," continued the other, resuming his perambulation of the deck, "explosions have sometimes been heard for hundreds, ay _hundreds_, of miles. i thought i heard one just now, but no doubt the unusual darkness works up my imagination and makes me suspicious, for it's wonderful what fools the imag--. hallo! d'ee feel _that_?" he went smartly towards the binnacle-light, as he spoke, and, holding an arm close to it, found that his sleeve was sprinkled with a thin coating of fine dust. "didn't i say so?" he exclaimed in some excitement, as he ran to the cabin skylight and glanced earnestly at the barometer. that glance caused him to shout a sudden order to take in all sail. at the same moment a sigh of wind swept over the sleeping sea as if the storm-fiend were expressing regret at having been so promptly discovered and met. seamen are well used to sudden danger--especially in equatorial seas-- and to prompt, unquestioning action. not many minutes elapsed before the _sunshine_ was under the smallest amount of sail she could carry. even before this had been well accomplished a stiff breeze was tearing up the surface of the sea into wild foam, which a furious gale soon raised into raging billows. the storm came from the sunda straits about which the captain and his son had just been talking, and was so violent that they could do nothing but scud before it under almost bare poles. all that night it raged. towards morning it increased to such a pitch that one of the backstays of the foremast gave way. the result was that the additional strain thus thrown on the other stays was too much for them. they also parted, and the foretop-mast, snapping short off with a report like a cannon-shot, went over the side, carrying the main-topgallant-mast and all its gear along with it. chapter two. the haven in the coral ring. it seemed as if the storm-fiend were satisfied with the mischief he had accomplished, for immediately after the disaster just described, the gale began to moderate, and when the sun rose it had been reduced to a stiff but steady breeze. from the moment of the accident onward, the whole crew had been exerting themselves to the utmost with axe and knife to cut and clear away the wreck of the masts, and repair damages. not the least energetic among them was our amateur first mate, nigel roy. when all had been made comparatively snug, he went aft to where his father stood beside the steersman, with his legs nautically wide apart, his sou'-wester pulled well down over his frowning brows, and his hands in their native pockets. "this is a bad ending to a prosperous voyage," said the youth, sadly; "but you don't seem to take it much to heart, father!" "how much or little i take it to heart you know nothin' whatever about, my boy, seein' that i don't wear my heart on my coat-sleeve, nor yet on the point of my nose, for the inspection of all and sundry. besides, you can't tell whether it's a bad or a good endin', for it has not ended yet one way or another. moreover, what appears bad is often found to be good, an' what seems good is pretty often uncommon bad." "you are a walking dictionary of truisms, father! i suppose you mean to take a philosophical view of the misfortune and make the best of it," said nigel, with what we may style one of his twinkling smiles, for on nearly all occasions that young man's dark, brown eyes twinkled, in spite of him, as vigorously as any "little star" that was ever told in prose or song to do so--and much more expressively, too, because of the eyebrows of which little stars appear to be destitute. "no, lad," retorted the captain; "i take a common-sense view--not a philosophical one; an' when you've bin as long at sea as i have, you'll call nothin' a misfortune until it's proved to be such. the only misfortune i have at present is a son who cannot see things in the same light as his father sees 'em." "well, then, according to your own principle that is the reverse of a misfortune, for if i saw everything in the same light that you do, you'd have no pleasure in talking to me, you'd have no occasion to reason me out of error, or convince me of truth. take the subject of poetry, now--" "luff;" said captain roy, sternly, to the man at the wheel. when the man at the wheel had gone through the nautical evolution involved in "luff," the captain turned to his son and said abruptly--"we'll run for the cocos-keelin' islands, nigel, an' refit." "are the keeling islands far off?" "lift up your head and look straight along the bridge of your nose, lad, and you'll see them. they're an interesting group, are the keelin' islands. volcanic, they are, with a coral top-dressin', so to speak. sit down here an' i'll tell 'ee about 'em." nigel shut up the telescope through which he had been examining the thin, blue line on the horizon that indicated the islands in question, and sat down on the cabin skylight beside his father. "they've got a romantic history too, though a short one, an' are set like a gem on the bosom of the deep blue sea." "come, father, you're drifting out of your true course--that's poetical!" "i know it, lad, but i'm only quotin' your mother. well, you must know that the keelin' islands--we call them keelin' for short--were uninhabited between fifty and sixty years ago, when a scotsman named ross, thinking them well situated as a port of call for the repair and provisioning of vessels on their way to australia and china, set his heart on them and quietly took possession in the name of england. then he went home to fetch his wife and family of six children, intendin' to settle on the islands for good. returning in with the family and fourteen adventurers, twelve of whom were english, one a portugee and one a javanee, he found to his disgust that an englishman named hare had stepped in before him and taken possession. this hare was a very bad fellow; a rich man who wanted to live like a rajah, with lots o' native wives and retainers, an' be a sort of independent prince. of course he was on bad terms at once with ross, who, finding that things were going badly, felt that it would be unfair to hold his people to the agreement which was made when he thought the whole group was his own, so he offered to release them. they all, except two men and one woman, accepted the release and went off in a gun-boat that chanced to touch there at the time. for a good while hare and his rival lived there--the one tryin' to get the dutch, the other to induce the english government to claim possession. neither dutch nor english would do so at first, but the english did it at long last--in --and annexed the islands to the government of ceylon. "long before that date, however--before --hare left and went to singapore, where he died, leaving ross in possession--the `king of the cocos islands' as he came to be called. in a few years--chiefly through the energy of ross's eldest son, to whom he soon gave up the management of affairs--the group became a prosperous settlement. its ships traded in cocoa-nuts, (the chief produce of the islands), throughout all the straits settlements, and boatbuildin' became one of their most important industries. but there was one thing that prevented it from bein' a very happy though prosperous place, an' that was the coolies who had been hired in java, for the only men that could be got there at first were criminals who had served their time in the chain-gangs of batavia. as these men were fit for anything--from pitch-and-toss to murder--and soon outnumbered the colonists, the place was kept in constant alarm and watchfulness. for, as i dare say you know, the malays are sometimes liable to have the spirit of _amok_ on them, which leads them to care for and fear nothin', and to go in for a fight-to-death, from which we get our sayin'--_run amuck_. an' when a strong fellow is goin' about loose in this state o' mind, it's about as bad as havin' a tiger prowlin' in one's garden. "well, sometimes two or three o' these coolies would mutiny and bide in the woods o' one o' the smaller uninhabited islands. an' the colonists would have no rest till they hunted them down. so, to keep matters right, they had to be uncommon strict. it was made law that no one should spend the night on any but what was called the home island without permission. every man was bound to report himself at the guard-house at a fixed hour; every fire to be out at sunset, and every boat was numbered and had to be in its place before that time. so they went on till the year , when a disaster befell them that made a considerable change--at first for the worse, but for the better in the long-run. provin' the truth, my lad, of what i was--well, no--i was goin' to draw a moral here, but i won't! "it was a cyclone that did the business. cyclones have got a free-an'-easy way of makin' a clean sweep of the work of years in a few hours. this cyclone completely wrecked the homes of the keelin' islanders, and ross--that's the second ross, the son of the first one-- sent home for _his_ son, who was then a student of engineering in glasgow, to come out and help him to put things to rights. ross the third obeyed the call, like a good son,--observe that, nigel." "all right, father, fire away!" "like a good son," repeated the captain, "an' he turned out to be a first-rate man, which was lucky, for his poor father died soon after, leavin' him to do the work alone. an' well able was the young engineer to do it. he got rid o' the chain-gang men altogether, and hired none but men o' the best character in their place. he cleared off the forests and planted the ground with cocoa-nut palms. got out steam mills, circular saws, lathes, etcetera, and established a system of general education with a younger brother as head-master--an' tail-master too, for i believe there was only one. he also taught the men to work in brass, iron, and wood, and his wife--a cocos girl that he married after comin' out--taught all the women and girls to sew, cook, and manage the house. in short, everything went on in full swing of prosperity, till the year , when the island-born inhabitants were about , as contented and happy as could be. "in january of that year another cyclone paid them a visit. the barometer gave them warning, and, remembering the visit of fourteen years before, they made ready to receive the new visitor. all the boats were hauled up to places of safety, and every other preparation was made. down it came, on the afternoon o' the th--worse than they had expected. many of the storehouses and mills had been lately renewed or built. they were all gutted and demolished. everything movable was swept away like bits of paper. lanes, hundreds of yards in length, were cleared among the palm-trees by the whirling wind, which seemed to perform a demon-dance of revelry among them. in some cases it snapped trees off close to the ground. in others it seemed to swoop down from above, lick up a patch of trees bodily and carry them clean away, leaving the surrounding trees untouched. sometimes it would select a tree of thirty years growth, seize it, spin it round, and leave it a permanent spiral screw. i was in these regions about the time, and had the account from a native who had gone through it all and couldn't speak of it except with glaring eyeballs and gasping breath. "about midnight of the th the gale was at its worst. darkness that could be felt between the flashes of lightning. thunder that was nearly drowned by the roaring of the wind an' the crashing of everything all round. to save their lives the people had to fling themselves into ditches and hollows of the ground. mr ross and some of his people were lying in the shelter of a wall near his house. there had been a schooner lying not far off. when mr ross raised his head cautiously above the wall to have a look to wind'ard he saw the schooner comin' straight for him on the top of a big wave. `hold on!' he shouted, fell flat down, and laid hold o' the nearest bush. next moment the wave burst right over the wall, roared on up to the garden, yards above high-water mark, and swept his house clean away! by good fortune the wall stood the shock, and the schooner stuck fast just before reachin' it, but so near that the end of the jib-boom passed right over the place where the household lay holdin' on for dear life and half drowned. it was a tremendous night," concluded the captain, "an' nearly everything on the islands was wrecked, but they've survived it, as you'll see. though it's seven years since that cyclone swep' over them, they're all right and goin' ahead again, full swing, as if nothin' had happened." "and is ross the third still king?" asked nigel with much interest. "ay--at least he was king a few years ago when i passed this way and had occasion to land to replace a tops'l yard that had been carried away." "then you won't arrive as a stranger?" "i should think not," returned the captain, getting up and gazing steadily at the _atoll_ or group of islets enclosed within a coral ring which they were gradually approaching. night had descended, however, and the gale had decreased almost to a calm, ere they steered through the narrow channel--or what we may call a broken part of the ring--which led to the calm lagoon inside. nigel roy leaned over the bow, watching with profound attention the numerous phosphorescent fish and eel-like creatures which darted hither and thither like streaks of silver from beneath their advancing keel. he had enough of the naturalist in him to arouse in his mind keen interest in the habits and action of the animal life around him, and these denizens of the coral-groves were as new to him as their appearance was unexpected. "you'll find 'em very kind and hospitable, lad," said the captain to his son. "what, the fish?" "no, the inhabitants. port--port--steady!" "steady it is!" responded the man at the wheel. "let go!" shouted the captain. a heavy plunge, followed by the rattling of chains and swinging round of the brig, told that they had come to an anchor in the lagoon of the cocos-keeling islands. chapter three. interesting particulars of various kinds. by the first blush of dawn nigel roy hastened on deck, eager to see the place in regard to which his father's narrative had awakened in him considerable interest. it not only surpassed but differed from all his preconceived ideas. the brig floated on the bosom of a perfectly calm lake of several miles in width, the bottom of which, with its bright sand and brilliant coral-beds, could be distinctly seen through the pellucid water. this lake was encompassed by a reef of coral which swelled here and there into tree-clad islets, and against which the breakers of the indian ocean were dashed into snowy foam in their vain but ceaseless efforts to invade the calm serenity of the lagoon. smaller islands, rich with vegetation, were scattered here and there within the charmed circle, through which several channels of various depths and sizes connected the lagoon with the ocean. "we shall soon have the king himself off to welcome us," said captain roy as he came on deck and gave a sailor-like glance all round the horizon and then up at the sky from the mere force of habit. "visitors are not numerous here. a few scientific men have landed now and again; darwin the great naturalist among others in , and forbes in . no doubt they'll be very glad to welcome nigel roy in this year of grace ." "but i'm not a naturalist, father, more's the pity." "no matter, lad; you're an ammytoor first mate, an' pr'aps a poet may count for somethin' here. they lead poetical lives and are fond o' poetry." "perhaps that accounts for the fondness you say they have for you, father." "just so, lad. see!--there's a boat puttin' off already: the king, no doubt." he was right. mr ross, the appointed governor, and "king of the cocos islands," was soon on deck, heartily shaking hands with and welcoming captain roy as an old friend. he carried him and his son off at once to breakfast in his island-home; introduced nigel to his family, and then showed them round the settlement, assuring them at the same time that all its resources were at their disposal for the repair of the _sunshine_. "thank 'ee kindly," said the captain in reply, "but i'll only ask for a stick to rig up a fore-topmast to carry us to batavia, where we'll give the old craft a regular overhaul--for it's just possible she may have received some damage below the water-line, wi' bumpin' on the mast and yards." the house of the "king" was a commodious, comfortable building in the midst of a garden, in which there were roses in great profusion, as well as fruit-trees and flowering shrubs. each keeling family possessed a neat well-furnished plank cottage enclosed in a little garden, besides a boat-house at the water-edge on the inner or lagoon side of the reef, and numerous boats were lying about on the white sand. the islanders, being almost born sailors, were naturally very skilful in everything connected with the sea. there was about them a good deal of that kindly innocence which one somehow expects to find associated with a mild paternal government and a limited intercourse with the surrounding world, and nigel was powerfully attracted by them from the first. after an extensive ramble, during which mr ross plied the captain with eager questions as to the latest news from the busy centres of civilisation--especially with reference to new inventions connected with engineering--the island king left them to their own resources till dinner-time, saying that he had duties to attend to connected with the kingdom! "now, boy," said the captain when their host had gone, "what'll 'ee do? take a boat and have a pull over the lagoon, or go with me to visit a family i'm particularly fond of, an' who are uncommon fond of _me_!" "visit the family, of course," said nigel. "i can have a pull any day." "come along then." he led the way to one of the neatest of the plank cottages, which stood on the highest ridge of the island, so that from the front windows it commanded a view of the great blue ocean with its breakers that fringed the reef as with a ring of snow, while, on the opposite side, lay the peaceful waters and islets of the lagoon. a shout of joyful surprise was uttered by several boys and girls at sight of the captain, for during his former visit he had won their hearts by telling them wild stories of the sea, one-half of each story being founded on fact and personal experience, the other half on a vivid imagination! "we are rejoiced to see you," said the mother of the juveniles, a stout woman of mixed nationality--that of dutch apparently predominating. she spoke english, however, remarkably well, as did many of the cocos people, though malay is the language of most of them. the boys and girls soon hauled the captain down on a seat and began to urge him to tell them stories, using a style of english that was by no means equal to that of the mother. "stop, stop, let me see sister kathy first. i can't begin without her. where is she?" "somewhere, i s'pose," said the eldest boy. "no doubt of that. go--fetch her," returned the captain. at that moment a back-door opened, and a girl of about seventeen years of age entered. she was pleasant-looking rather than pretty--tall, graceful, and with magnificent black eyes. "here she comes," cried the captain, rising and kissing her. "why, kathy, how you've grown since i saw you last! quite a woman, i declare!" kathy was not too much of a woman, however, to join her brothers and sisters in forcing the captain into a seat and demanding a story on the spot. "stop, stop!" cried the captain, grasping round their waists a small boy and girl who had already clambered on his knees. "let me inquire about my old friends first--and let me introduce my son to you--you've taken no notice of _him_ yet! that's not hospitable." all eyes were turned at once on nigel, some boldly, others with a shy inquiring look, as though to say, "can _you_ tell stories?" "come, now," said nigel, advancing, "since you are all so fond of my father, i must shake hands with you all round." the hearty way in which this was done at once put the children at their ease. they admitted him, as it were, into their circle, and then turning again to the captain continued their clamour for a story. "no, no--about old friends first. how--how's old mother morris?" "quite well," they shouted. "fatterer than ever," added an urchin, who in england would have been styled cheeky. "yes," lisped a very little girl; "one of 'e doors in 'e house too small for she." "why, gerchin, you've learned to speak english like the rest," said the captain. "yes, father make every one learn." "well, now," continued the captain, "what about black sam?" "gone to batavia," chorused the children. "and--and--what's-'is-name?--the man wi' the nose--" a burst of laughter and, "we's _all_ got noses here!" was the reply. "yes, but you know who i mean--the short man wi' the--" "oh! with the turned _up_ nose. _i_ know," cried the cheeky boy; "you means johnson? he hoed away nobody know whar'." "and little kelly drew, what of her?" a sudden silence fell on the group, and solemn eyes were turned on sister kathy, who was evidently expected to answer. "not dead?" said the captain earnestly. "no, but very _very_ ill," replied the girl. "dear kelly have never git over the loss of her brother, who--." at this point they were interrupted by another group of the captain's little admirers, who, having heard of his arrival, ran forward to give him a noisy welcome. before stories could be commenced, however, the visitors were summoned to mr ross's house to dinner, and then the captain had got into such an eager talk with the king that evening was upon them before they knew where they were, as nigel expressed it, and the stories had to be postponed until the following day. of course beds were offered, and accepted by captain roy and nigel. just before retiring to them, father and son went out to have a stroll on the margin of the lagoon. "ain't it a nice place, nigel?" asked the former, whose kindly spirit had been stirred up to quite a jovial pitch by the gushing welcome he had received alike from old and young. "it's charming, father. quite different from what you had led me to expect." "my boy," returned the captain, with that solemn deliberation which he was wont to assume when about to deliver a palpable truism. "w'en you've come to live as long as me you'll find that everything turns out different from what people have bin led to expect. leastways that's _my_ experience." "well, in the meantime, till i have come to your time of life, i'll take your word for that, and i do hope you intend to stay a long time here." "no, my son, i don't. why do ye ask?" "because i like the place and the people so much that i would like to study it and them, and to sketch the scenery." "business before pleasure, my lad," said the captain with a grave shake of the head. "you know we've bin blown out of our course, and have no business here at all. i'll only wait till the carpenter completes his repairs, and then be off for batavia. duty first; everything else afterwards." "but you being owner as well as commander, there is no one to insist on duty being done," objected nigel. "pardon me," returned the captain, "there is a certain owner named captain david roy, a very stern disciplinarian, who insists on the commander o' this here brig performin' his duty to the letter. you may depend upon it that if a man ain't true to himself he's not likely to be true to any one else. but it's likely that we may be here for a couple of days, so i release _you_ from duty that you may make the most o' your time and enjoy yourself. by the way, it will save you wastin' time if you ask that little girl, kathy holbein, to show you the best places to sketch, for she's a born genius with her pencil and brush." "no, thank you, father," returned nigel. "i want no little girl to bother me while i'm sketching--even though she be a born genius--for i think i possess genius enough myself to select the best points for sketching, and to get along fairly well without help. at least i'll try what i can do." "please yourself, lad. nevertheless, i think you wouldn't find poor kathy a bother; she's too modest for that--moreover, she could manage a boat and pull a good oar when i was here last, and no doubt she has improved since." "nevertheless, i'd rather be alone," persisted nigel. "but why do you call her _poor_ kathy? she seems to be quite as strong and as jolly as the rest of her brothers and sisters." "ah, poor thing, these are not her brothers and sisters," returned the captain in a gentler tone. "kathy is only an adopted child, and an orphan. her name, kathleen, is not a dutch one. she came to these islands in a somewhat curious way. sit down here and i'll tell 'ee the little i know about her." father and son sat down on a mass of coral rock that had been washed up on the beach during some heavy gale, and for a few minutes gazed in silence on the beautiful lagoon, in which not only the islets, but the brilliant moon and even the starry hosts were mirrored faithfully. "about thirteen years ago," said the captain, "two pirate junks in the sunda straits attacked a british barque, and, after a fight, captured her. some o' the crew were killed in action, some were taken on board the junks to be held to ransom, i s'pose, and some, jumping into the sea to escape if possible by swimming, were probably drowned, for they were a considerable distance from land. it was one o' these fellows, however, who took to the water that managed to land on the java shore, more dead than alive. he gave information about the affair, and was the cause of a gun-boat, that was in these waters at the time, bein' sent off in chase o' the pirate junks. "this man who swam ashore was a lascar. he said that the chief o' the pirates, who seemed to own both junks, was a big ferocious malay with only one eye--he might have added with no heart at all, if what he said o' the scoundrel was true, for he behaved with horrible cruelty to the crew o' the barque. after takin' all he wanted out of his prize he scuttled her, and then divided the people that were saved alive between the two junks. there were several passengers in the vessel; among them a young man--a widower--with a little daughter, four year old or so. he was bound for calcutta. being a very powerful man he fought like a lion to beat the pirates off, but he was surrounded and at last knocked down by a blow from behind. then his arms were made fast and he was sent wi' the rest into the biggest junk. "this poor fellow recovered his senses about the time the pirates were dividin' the prisoners among them. he seemed dazed at first, so said the lascar, but as he must have bin in a considerable funk himself i suspect his observations couldn't have bin very correct. anyhow, he said he was sittin' near the side o' the junk beside this poor man, whose name he never knew, but who seemed to be an englishman from his language, when a wild scream was heard in the other junk. it was the little girl who had caught sight of her father and began to understand that she was going to be separated from him. at the sound o' her voice he started up, and, looking round like a wild bull, caught sight o' the little one on the deck o' the other junk, just as they were hoistin' sail to take advantage of a breeze that had sprung up. "whether it was that they had bound the man with a piece o' bad rope, or that the strength o' samson had been given to him, the lascar could not tell, but he saw the englishman snap the rope as if it had bin a bit o' pack-thread, and jump overboard. he swam for the junk where his little girl was. if he had possessed the strength of a dozen samsons it would have availed him nothin', for the big sail had caught the breeze and got way on her. at the same time the other junk lay over to the same breeze and the two separated. at first the one-eyed pirate jumped up with an oath and fired a pistol shot at the englishman, but missed him. then he seemed to change his mind and shouted in bad english, with a diabolical laugh--`swim away; swim hard, p'raps you kitch 'im up!' of course the two junks were soon out of sight o' the poor swimmer--and that was the end of _him_, for, of course, he must have been drowned." "but what of the poor little girl?" asked nigel, whose feelings were easily touched by the sorrows of children, and who began to have a suspicion of what was coming. "i'm just comin' to that. well, the gun-boat that went to look for the pirates sighted one o' the junks out in the indian ocean after a long search and captured her, but not a single one o' the barque's crew was to be found in her, and it was supposed they had been all murdered and thrown overboard wi' shots tied to their feet to sink them. enough o' the cargo o' the british barque was found, however, to convict her, and on a more careful search bein' made, the little girl was discovered, hid away in the hold. bein' only about four year old, the poor little thing was too frightened to understand the questions put to her. all she could say was that she wanted `to go to father,' and that her name was kathy, probably short for kathleen, but she could not tell." "then that is the girl who is now here?" exclaimed nigel. "the same, lad. the gun-boat ran in here, like as we did, to have some slight repairs done, and kathy was landed. she seemed to take at once to motherly mrs holbein, who offered to adopt her, and as the captain of the gun-boat had no more notion than the man-in-the-moon who the child belonged to, or what to do with her, he gladly handed her over, so here she has been livin' ever since. of coarse attempts have been made to discover her friends, but without success, and now all hope has been given up. the poor girl herself never speaks on the subject, but old holbein and his wife tell me she is sure that kathy has never forgotten her father. it may be so; anyhow, she has forgotten his name--if she ever knew it." next day nigel made no objections to being guided to the most picturesque spots among the coral isles by the interesting orphan girl. if she had been older he might even have fallen in love with her, an event which would have necessitated an awkward modification of the ground-work of our tale. as it was, he pitied the poor child sincerely, and not only--recognising her genius--asked her advice a good deal on the subject of art, but--recognising also her extreme youth and ignorance--volunteered a good deal of advice in exchange, quite in a paternal way! chapter four. nigel undergoes some quite new and interesting experiences. the arrangements made on the following day turned out to be quite in accordance with the wishes and tastes of the various parties concerned. the ship's carpenter having been duly set to work on the repairs, and being inspected in that serious piece of prosaic business by the second mate, our captain was set free to charm the very souls of the juveniles by wandering for miles along the coral strand inventing, narrating, exaggerating to his heart's content. pausing now and then to ask questions irrelevant to the story in hand, like a wily actor, for the purpose of intensifying the desire for more, he would mount a block of coral, and thence, sometimes as from a throne, or platform, or pulpit, impress some profound piece of wisdom, or some thrilling point, or some exceedingly obvious moral on his followers open-mouthed and open-eyed. these were by no means idlers, steeped in the too common business of having nothing to do. no, they had regularly sought and obtained a holiday from work or school; for all the activities of social and civilised life were going on full swing--fuller, indeed, than the average swing--in that remote, scarcely known, and beautiful little gem of the indian ocean. meanwhile nigel and kathy, with sketch-books under their arms, went down to where the clear waters of the lagoon rippled on the white sand, and, launching a cockleshell of a boat, rowed out toward the islets. "now, kathy, you must let me pull," said nigel, pushing out the sculls, "for although the captain tells me you are very good at rowing, it would never do for a man, you know, to sit lazily down and let himself be rowed by a girl." "very well," said kathy, with a quiet and most contented smile, for she had not yet reached the self-conscious age--at least, as ages go in the cocos-keeling islands! besides, kathy was gifted with that charming disposition which never _objects_ to anything--anything, of course, that does not involve principle! but it was soon found that, as the cockleshell had no rudder, and the intricacies they had to wind among were numerous, frequent directions and corrections were called for from the girl. "d'you know," said nigel at last, "as i don't know where you want me to go to, it may be as well, after all, that you should row!" "very well," said kathy, with another of her innocent smiles. "i thinked it will be better so at first." nigel could not help laughing at the way she said this as he handed her the sculls. she soon proved herself to be a splendid boat-woman, and although her delicate and shapely arms were as mere pipe-stems to the great brawny limbs of her companion, yet she had a deft, mysterious way of handling the sculls that sent the cockleshell faster over the lagoon than before. "now, we go ashore here," said kathy, turning the boat,--with a prompt backwater of the left scull, and a vigorous pull of the right one,--into a little cove just big enough to hold it. the keel went with such a plump on the sand, that nigel, who sat on a forward thwart with his back landward, reversed the natural order of things by putting his back on the bottom of the boat and his heels in the air. to this day it is an unsettled question whether this was done on purpose by kathy. certain it is that _she_ did not tumble, but burst into a hearty fit of laughter, while her large lustrous eyes half shut themselves up and twinkled. "why, you don't even apologise, you dreadful creature!" exclaimed nigel, joining in the laugh, as he picked himself up. "why should i 'pologise?" asked the girl, in the somewhat broken english acquired from her adopted family. "why you not look out?" "right, kathy, right; i'll keep a sharp lookout next time. meanwhile i will return good for evil by offering my hand to help you a--hallo!" while he spoke the girl had sprung past him like a grasshopper, and alighted on the sand like a butterfly. a few minutes later and this little jesting fit had vanished, and they were both engaged with pencil and book, eagerly--for both were enthusiastic--sketching one of the most enchanting scenes that can well be imagined. we will not attempt the impossible. description could not convey it. we can only refer the reader's imagination to the one old, hackneyed but expressive, word--fairyland! one peculiarly interesting point in the scene was, that on the opposite side of the lagoon the captain could be seen holding forth to his juvenile audience. when a pretty long time had elapsed in absolute silence, each sketcher being totally oblivious of the other, nigel looked up with a long sigh, and said:-- "well, you _have_ chosen a most exquisite scene for me. the more i work at it, the more i find to admire. may i look now at what you have done?" "oh yes, but i have done not much. i am slow," said the girl, as nigel rose and looked over her shoulder. "why!--what--how beautiful!--but--but--what do you mean?" exclaimed the youth. "i don't understand you," said the girl, looking up in surprise. "why, kathy, i had supposed you were drawing that magnificent landscape all this time, and--and you've only been drawing a group of shells. splendidly done, i admit, but why--" he stopped at that moment, for her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "forgive me, dear child," said nigel, hurriedly "i did not intend to hurt your feelings. i was only surprised at your preference." "you have not hurt me," returned kathy in a low voice, as she resumed her work, "but what you say calls back to me--my father was very fond of shells." she stopped, and nigel, blaming himself for having inadvertently touched some tender chord, hastened, somewhat clumsily, to change the subject. "you draw landscape also, i doubt not?" "oh yes--plenty. if you come home to me to-night, i will show you some." "i shall be only too happy," returned the youth, sitting down again to his sketch, "and perhaps i may be able to give you a hint or two-- especially in reference to perspective--for i've had regular training, you know, kathy, and i dare say you have not had that here." "not what you will think much, perhaps, yet i have study a little in school, and _very_ much from nature." "well, you have been under the best of masters," returned nigel, "if you have studied much from nature. and who has been your other teacher?" "a brother of mr ross. i think he must understand very much. he was an engineer, and has explained to me the rules of perspective, and many other things which were at first very hard to understand. but i do see them now." "perhaps then, kathleen," said nigel, in that drawling, absent tone in which artists are apt to indulge when busy at work--"perhaps you may be already too far advanced to require instruction from me." "perhaps--but i think no, for you seems to understand a great deal. but why you call me kathleen just now?" "because i suppose that is your real name--kathy being the short for it. is it not so?" "well, p'raps it is. i have hear mother holbein say so once. i like kathleen best." "then, may i call you kathleen?" "if you like." at this point both artists had become so engrossed in their occupation that they ceased to converse, and for a considerable time profound silence reigned--at least on their part, though not as regarded others, for every now and then the faint sound of laughter came floating over the tranquil lagoon from that part of the coral strand where captain roy was still tickling the fancies and expanding the imaginations and harrowing or soothing the feelings of the cocos-keeling juveniles. inferior animal life was also in ceaseless activity around the sketchers, filling the air with those indescribably quiet noises which are so suggestive of that general happiness which was originally in terrestrial paradise and is ultimately to be the lot of redeemed creation. snipe and curlews were wading with jaunty step and absorbed inquiring gaze in the shallow pools. hermit-crabs of several species and sizes were scuttling about searching for convenient shells in which to deposit their naturally homeless and tender tails. overhead there was a sort of sea-rookery, the trees being tenanted by numerous gannets, frigate birds, and terns--the first gazing with a stupid yet angry air; the last--one beautiful little snow-white species in particular--hovering only a few feet above the sketchers' heads, while their large black eyes scanned the drawings with the owlish look of wisdom peculiar to connoisseurs. noddies also were there, and, on the ground, lizards and spiders and innumerable ants engaged in all the varied activities connected with their several domestic arrangements. altogether it was a scene of bright peaceful felicity, which seemed to permeate nigel's frame right inward to the spinal marrow, and would have kept him entranced there at his work for several hours longer if the cravings of a healthy appetite had not warned him to desist. "now, kathleen," he said, rising and stretching himself as one is apt to do after sitting long in a constrained position, "it seems to me about time to--by the way, we've forgotten to bring something to eat!" his expression as he said this made his companion look up and laugh. "plenty cocoa-nuts," she said, pointing with her pencil to the overarching trees. "true, but i doubt my ability to climb these long straight stems; besides, i have got only a small clasp-knife, which would be but a poor weapon with which to attack the thick outer husk of the nuts." "but i have got a few without the husks in the boat," said the girl, rising and running to the place where the cockleshell had been left. she returned immediately with several nuts divested of their thick outer covering, and in the condition with which we are familiar in england. some of them were already broken, so that they had nothing to do but sit down to lunch. "here is one," said kathy, handing a nut to nigel, "that has got no meat yet in it--only milk. bore a hole in it and drink, but see you bore in the right hole." "the right hole?" echoed the youth, "are some of them wrong ones?" "oh yes, only one of the three will do. one of our crawbs knows that and has claws that can bore through the husk and shell. we calls him coconut crawb." "indeed! that is strange; i never heard before of a crab that fed on cocoa-nuts." "this one do. he is very big, and also climbs trees. it goes about most at night. perhaps you see one before you go away." the crab to which kathy referred is indeed a somewhat eccentric crustacean, besides being unusually large. it makes deep tunnels in the ground larger than rabbit burrows, which it lines with cocoa-nut fibre. one of its claws is developed into an organ of extraordinary power with which it can break a cocoa-nut shell, and even, it is said, a man's limb! it never takes all the husk off a cocoa-nut--that would be an unnecessary trouble--but only enough off the end where the three eyelets are, to enable it to get at the inside. having pierced the proper eye with one of its legs it rotates the nut round it until the hole is large enough to admit the point of its great claw, with which it continues the work. this remarkable creature also climbs the palm-trees, but not to gather nuts; that is certain, for its habits have been closely watched and it has been ascertained that it feeds only on fallen nuts. possibly it climbs for exercise, or to obtain a more extended view of its charming habitat, or simply "for fun." why not? all this and a great deal more was told to nigel by kathleen, who was a bit of a naturalist in her tendencies--as they sat there under the graceful fronds of the palm-trees admiring the exquisite view, eating and drinking cocoa-nuts. "i suppose you have plenty of other kinds of food besides this?" said nigel. "oh yes, plenty. most of the fish in our lagoon be good for eating, and so also the crawbs, and we have turtle too." "indeed! how do you catch the turtle? another nut, please.--thank you." "the way we gets turtle is by the men diving for them and catching them in the water. we has pigs too--plenty, and the wild birds are some very nice." [see note.] when the artists had finished they proceeded to the shore, and to their surprise and amusement found the cockleshell in possession of a piratical urchin of about four years of age in a charmingly light state of clothing. he was well-known to kathleen, and it turned out that, having seen the cockle start at too great a distance to be hailed, and having set his heart on joining in the excursion, he had watched their movements, observed their landing on the islet--which was not far from the main circlet of land--and, running round till he came opposite to it, swam off and got into the boat. being somewhat tired he had lain down to rest and fallen sound asleep. on the way home this urchin's sole delight was to lean over the bow and watch the fish and coral-groves over which they skimmed. in this he was imitated by nigel who, ungallantly permitting his companion to row, also leaned over the side and gazed down into the clear crystal depths with unwearying delight. for the wonderful colours displayed in those depths must be seen to be believed. not only is the eye pleased with the ever-varying formations of the coral bowers, but almost dazzled with the glittering fish--blue, emerald, green, scarlet, orange, banded, spotted, and striped--that dart hither and thither among the rich-toned sea-weed and the variegated anemones which spread their tentacles upwards as if inviting the gazer to come down. among these, crabs could be seen crawling with undecided motion, as if unable to make up their minds, while in out of the way crevices clams of a gigantic size were gaping in deadly quietude ready to close with a snap on any unfortunate creature that should give them the slightest touch. nigel was sharply awakened from his dream by a sudden splash. looking up he observed that the small boy was gone. with a bound he stood erect, one foot on the gunwale and hands clasped ready to dive, when a glance revealed the fact that kathy was smiling broadly! "don't jump!" she said. "he is only after a fish." even while she spoke nigel saw the brown little fellow shooting about like a galvanised tadpole, with a small harpoon in his hand. next moment he appeared on the surface shouting and spluttering, with a splendid fish on the end of his harpoon! both were hauled into the boat, and very soon after they drew near to land. in the shallow water nigel observed some remarkable creatures which resembled hedgehogs, having jaws armed with formidable teeth to enable them to feed, kathy said, on coral insects. file-fishes also drew his attention particularly. these were magnificently striped and coloured, and apparently very fearless. "what convenient tails they have to lay hold of," remarked our hero, as they slowly glided past one; "i believe i could catch it with my hand!" stooping swiftly as he spoke, he dipped his arm into the water, and actually did grasp the fish by its tail, but dropped it again instantly--to the shrieking delight of the urchin and kathy,--for the tail was armed with a series of sharp spines which ran into his hand like lancets. this was an appropriate conclusion to a day that would have been otherwise too enjoyable. poor nigel's felicity was further diluted when he met his father. "we'll have to sleep aboard to-night," said the captain, "for there's a fair breeze outside which seems likely to hold, and the mast has been temporarily rigged up, so we'll have to up anchor, and away by break of day to-morrow." nigel's heart sank. "to-morrow! father?" "ay, to-morrow. business first, pleasure afterwards." "well, i suppose you are right, but it seems almost a shame to leave such a heaven upon earth as this in such a hurry. besides, is it not unkind to such hospitable people to bolt off after you've got all that you want out of them?" "can't help that, lad-- "dooty first, an' fun to follow, that's what beats creation hollow." "come father, don't say that you quote _that_ from mother!" "no more i do, my boy. it's my own--homemade. i put it together last night when i couldn't sleep for your snorin'." "don't tell fibs, father. you know i never snore. but--really--are we to start at daylight?" "we are, if the wind holds. but you may stay as late as you choose on shore to-night." nigel availed himself of the opportunity to see as much of the place and people as was possible in the limited time. next morning the good though damaged brig was running in the direction of sunda straits before a stiff and steady breeze. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . we recommend those who desire more curious information on the fauna and flora of the keeling islands to apply to henry o. forbes most interesting book, _a naturalist's wanderings in the eastern archipelago_, published by sampson low. chapter five. captain roy surprises and gratifies his son, who surprises a negro, and suddenly forms an astonishing resolve. arrived in batavia--the low-lying seaport and capital of the dutch island of java--captain roy had his brig examined, and found that the damage she had sustained was so serious that several months would probably elapse before she would be again ready for sea. "now, nigel, my lad," said the old gentleman, on the morning after the examination had been made, "come down below with me; i want to have a confabulation with 'ee." "why, father," said the youth, when seated at the small cabin table opposite his rugged parent, "you seem to be in an unusually solemn frame of mind this morning. has anything happened?" "nothin', boy--nothin'. leastwise nothin' in particular. you know all about the brig, an' what a deal o' repair she's got to undergo?" "of course i do. you know i was present when you talked the matter over with that fellow--what's-'is-name--that gave you his report." "just so. well now, nigel, you don't suppose, do you, that i'm goin' to keep you here for some months knockin' about with nothin' to do--eatin' your grub in idleness?" "certainly not," said the youth, regarding the stern countenance of his parent with an amused look. "i have no intention of acting such an ignoble part, and i'm surprised at you askin' the question, for you know i am not lazy--at least not more so than average active men--and there must be plenty of work for me to do in looking after the cargo, superintending repairs, taking care of the ship and men. i wonder at you, father. you must either have had a shock of dotage, or fallen into a poetical vein. what is a first mate fit for if--" "nigel," said captain roy, interrupting, "i'm the owner an' commander of the _sunshine_, besides bein' the paternal parent of an impertinent son, and i claim to have the right to do as i please--therefore, hold your tongue and listen to me." "all right, father," replied the young man, with a benignant grin; "proceed, but don't be hard upon me; spare my feelings." "well now, this is how the land lies," said the old seaman, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands before him. "as mr moor and i, with the stooard and men, are quite sufficient to manage the affairs o' the brig, and as we shall certainly be here for a considerable time to come, i've made up my mind to give you a holiday. you're young, you see, an' foolish, and your mind needs improvin'. in short, you want a good deal o' the poetry knocked out o' you, for it's not like your mother's poetry by any means, so you needn't flatter yourself--not built on the same lines by a long way. well--where was i?" "only got the length of the holiday yet, father." "only, indeed. you ungrateful dog! it's a considerable length to get, that, isn't it? well, i also intend to give you some money, to enable you to move about in this curious archipelago--not much, but enough to keep you from starvation if used with economy, so i recommend you to go into the town, make general inquiries about everything and everywhere, an' settle in your mind what you'll do, for i give you a rovin' commission an' don't want to be bothered with you for some time to come." "are you in earnest, father?" asked nigel, who had become more interested while the captain unfolded his plan. "never more in earnest in my life--except, p'raps, when i inquired over twenty years ago whether you was a boy or a girl." "well, now, that _is_ good of you, father. of course i need not say that i am charmed at the prospect you open up to me. and--and when may i start?" "at once. up anchor and away to-night if you choose." "but--where?" "anywhere--everywhere, java, sumatra, borneo--all malaysia before you where to choose. now be off, and think over it, for i've got too much to do to waste time on you at present," said the captain, rising, "and, stay--nigel." "well?" said the youth, looking back as he was about to leave the cabin. "whatever you do, don't grow poetical about it. you know it is said somewhere, that mischief is found for idle hands to do." "all right, father. i'll keep clear of poetry--leave all that sort o' nonsense to _you_. i'll-- "i'll flee temptation's siren voice, _throw_ poesy to the _crows_ and let my soul's ethereal fire gush out in sober prose." it need scarcely be said that our hero was not slow to take advantage of the opportunity thus thrown in his way. he went off immediately through the town, armed with the introduction of his father's well-known name, and made inquiries of all sorts of people as to the nature, the conditions, the facilities, and the prospects of travel in the malay archipelago. in this quest he found himself sorely perplexed for the very good reason that "all sorts" of people, having all sorts of ideas and tastes, gave amazingly conflicting accounts of the region and its attractions. wearied at last with his researches, he sauntered towards afternoon in the direction of the port, and began in a listless sort of way to watch the movements of a man who was busily engaged with a boat, as if he were making preparations to put to sea. now, whatever philosophers may say to the contrary, we hold strongly to the opinion that likings and dislikings among men and women and children are the result of some profound occult cause which has nothing whatever to do with experience. no doubt experience may afterwards come in to modify or intensify the feelings, but it is not the originating cause. if you say it is, how are we to account for love at first sight? beauty has nothing necessarily to do with it, for men fall in love at first sight with what the world calls plain women--happily! character is not the cause, for love assails the human breast, oft-times, before the loved object has uttered a word, or perpetrated a smile, or even fulminated a glance to indicate character. so, in like manner, affection may arise between man and man. it was so on this occasion with nigel roy. as he stood abstractedly gazing at the boatman he fell in love with him--at least he took a powerful fancy to him, and this was all the more surprising that the man was a negro,--a woolly-headed, flat-nosed, thick-lipped nigger! we would not for a moment have it supposed that it is unnatural to love such a man. quite the reverse. but when such a man is a perfect stranger, has never uttered a word in one's presence, or vouchsafed so much as a glance, and is gravely, stolidly engaged in the unsavoury work of greasing some of the tackling of a boat, it does seem unaccountable that he should be unwittingly capable of stirring up in another man's bosom feelings of ardent goodwill, to put it mildly. after watching him for some time, nigel, under an almost involuntary impulse, shouted "hullo!" "hullo!" replied the negro, looking up with a somewhat stern frown and a pout of his thick lips, as much as to say--"who are _you_?" nigel smiled, and made that suggestive motion with his forefinger which signifies "come here." the frown fled and the pout became a smile as the negro approached, wiping his hands on a piece of cotton-waste. "what you want wi' _me_, sar?" he asked. "well, upon my word," said nigel, somewhat perplexed, "i can't very well say. i suppose something must have been in my mind, but--anyhow, i felt a desire to have a talk with you; that is, if you can spare the time." the first part of this reply induced a slight recurrence of the frown and pout, but at its conclusion the black brow cleared and the mouth expanded to such a gum-and-teeth-exposing extent that nigel fairly burst into a laugh. "you's bery good, sar," said the man, "an' i's hab much pleasure to make your acquaintance.--der an't no grease on 'em now." the last remark had reference to the enormous black paw which he held out. nigel at once grasped it and shook it heartily. "i's bery fond ob a talk, sar," continued the negro, "so as you wants one, heabe ahead." thus encouraged, our hero began by remarking that he seemed to be preparing for a trip. "dat's zackly what i's a-doin', sar." "a long one?" "well, dat depends on what you call short. goin' to sunda straits, which p'raps you know, sar, is nigh a hundred miles fro' here." "and what may you be going to do there?" asked nigel. "goin' home to krakatoa." "why, i thought that was an uninhabited island. i passed close to it on my way here, and saw no sign of inhabitants." "dat's cause i was absint fro' home. an' massa he keeps indoors a good deal." "and pray who is massa?" asked nigel. "sar," said the negro, drawing up his square sturdy frame with a look of dignity; "fair-play is eberyt'ing wid me. you've ax me a heap o' questions. now's my turn. whar you comes fro'?" "from england," replied nigel. "an' whar you go to?" "well, you've posed me now, for i really don't know where i'm going to. in fact that is the very thing i have been trying to find out all day, so if you'll help me i'll be much obliged." here nigel explained his position and difficulties, and it was quite obvious, judging from the glittering eyes and mobile mouth, that he poured his tale into peculiarly sympathetic ears. when he had finished, the negro stood for a considerable time gazing in meditative silence at the sky. "yes," he said at last, as if communing with himself, "i t'ink--i ain't quite sure, but i t'ink--i may ventur'." "whatever it is you are thinking about," remarked nigel, "you may venture to say anything you like to _me_." the negro, who, although comparatively short of stature, was herculean in build, looked at the youth with an amused expression. "you're bery good, sar, but dat's not what i's t'inkin' ob. i's t'inkin' whedder i dar' ventur' to introdoce you to my massa. he's not fond o' company, an' it might make 'im angry, but he came by a heaby loss lately an' p'raps he may cond'send to receibe you. anyhow you'd be quite safe, for he's sure to be civil to any friend ob mine." "is he then so fierce?" asked nigel, becoming interested as well as amused. "fierce! no, he's gentle as a lamb, but he's awrful when he's roused-- tigers, crokindiles, 'noceroses is nuffin' to him!" "indeed! what's his name, and what does he do? how does he live?" the negro shook his head. "da's more'n i dar tell till i ax his leave, sar. i kin only say de peepil around calls 'im the hermit ob rakata, 'cause he libs by his-self (wid me, ob course, but _i_ counts for nuffin'), close under de ole volcano ob krakatoa. dey tink--some ob de foolish peepil--dat he hab sold his-self to de dibil, but i knows better. he's a good man, and you'd hab great fun if you stop wid him. now, what i's a-gwine to advise you is, come wid me an' see de hermit. if he lets you stop, good. if not, i fetch you ober to de main land-- whar you please--an' you kin come back here or go whar you choose. its wort' your while to take your chance, anyhow." the negro said this with such an earnest look that nigel made up his mind on the spot to accept this curious invitation. "i'll go!" he exclaimed with sudden energy. "when do you start?" "to-morrer at daybreak, sar." "well, i shall have to talk it over first with my father, but i'm sure he won't object, so you may look out for me here at daybreak. shall i have to fetch any provisions with me for the voyage?" "no, nuffin'. boat's crammed wi' grub. but you'd better bring a gun o' some sort an' a 'volver, an' a big knife, an' a mortal big appetite, for a man's no good widout dat." "i always carry that about with me," said the youth, "whatever else i may leave behind; and i'll see to the other things.--by the way, what's your name?" "moses." "is that all?" "isn't dat enuff?" returned the negro with a look of dignity. "quite; but i have the advantage of you there, moses, for i have two names--nigel roy." "well, i don't see much use ob two, but which does you like to be called by--nadgel or roy?" "whichever you please, moses; i'll answer to either. so now, good-bye for the present, and look out for me to-morrow at daylight." "good-bye, massa nadgel, till to-morrer." the negro waved his hand and, sauntering slowly back to his boat, remarked in an undertone, "i lub dat young feller!" saying which, he resumed his greasing operations. of course captain roy made no objection to his son's proposal, though he freely gave his opinion that it was a wild-goose chase. "however, lad, please yourself and you'll please me," he added; "and now, be particular to bear in mind that you've got to write to me every time you get within hail of a post-office or a passing ship or steamer that may chance to be comin' this way, and in each letter be sure to tell me where you're goin' to next, so as i may send a letter there to you in case i want you to return sudden or otherwise. we mustn't lose touch, you see. you needn't write long screeds. i only want to know your whereabouts from time to time. for the rest--you can spin it out in yarns when you come back." chapter six. the hermit of rakata introduced. nothing worthy of particular note occurred during the boat-voyage along the northern shore of java to sunda straits. a fair, steady breeze wafted them westward, and, on the morning of the third day, they came in sight of the comparatively small uninhabited island of krakatoa. the boat in which they voyaged, although a little one, had a small portion of the bow decked over, so that our hero and his sable friend could find shelter from the night air when disposed to sleep, and from the fierce rays of the sun at noon. by the advice of his father, nigel had changed his sailor costume for the "shore-goin' toggery" in which he had landed on the keeling islands, as being more suitable to his new character as a traveller, namely, a white cloth cap with a peak in front and a curtain behind to protect his neck, a light-grey tunic belted at the waist, and a pair of strong canvas trousers. he had also purchased an old-fashioned double-barrelled fowling-piece, muzzle-loading and with percussion locks. "for you see, nigel," the captain had said, "it's all very well to use breech-loaders when you've got towns and railways and suchlike to supply you wi' cartridges, but when you've got to cruise in out-o'-the-way waters, there's nothin' like the old style. it's not difficult to carry a few thousand percussion-caps an' a bullet-mould about wi' you wherever you go. as to powder, why, you'll come across that 'most everywhere, an' lead too; and, for the matter o' that, if your life depended on it you could shove a handful of gravel or a pen-knife or tooth-pick into your gun an' blaze away, but with a breech-loader, if you run out o' cartridges, where are you?" so, as nigel could not say where he was, the percussion-gun had been purchased. the peak of rakata--the highest in the island--a little over feet, came in sight first; gradually the rest of the island rose out of the horizon, and ere long the rich tropical verdure became distinguishable. krakatoa--destined so soon to play a thrilling part in the world's history; to change the aspect of the heavens everywhere; to attract the wondering gaze of nearly all nations, and to devastate its immediate neighbourhood--is of volcanic origin, and, at the time we write of ( ) was beginning to awaken from a long, deep slumber of two hundred years. its last explosion occurred in the year . since that date it had remained quiet. but now the tremendous subterranean forces which had originally called it into being were beginning to reassert their existence and their power. vulcan was rousing himself again and beginning once more to blow his bellows. so said some of the sailors who were constantly going close past the island and through sunda straits, which may be styled the narrows of the world's highway to the china seas. subterranean forces, however, are so constantly at work more or less violently in those regions that people took little notice of these indications in the comparatively small island of krakatoa, which was between five and six miles long by four broad. as we have said, it was uninhabited, and lying as it does between sumatra and java, about sixteen miles from the former and over twenty miles from the latter, it was occasionally visited by fishermen. the hermit whom nigel was about to visit might, in some sort, be counted an inhabitant, for he had dwelt there many years, but he lived in a cave which was difficult of access, and held communication with no one. how he spent his time was a mystery, for although his negro servant went to the neighbouring town of anjer in java for supplies, and sometimes to batavia, as we have seen, no piece of inanimate ebony from the forest could have been less communicative than he. indeed, our hero was the first to unlock the door of his lips, with that key of mysterious sympathy to which reference has already been made. some of the bolder of the young fishermen of the neighbouring coasts had several times made futile efforts to find out where and how the hermit lived, but the few who got a glimpse of him at a distance brought back such a report that a kind of superstitious fear of him was generated which kept them at a respectful distance. he was ten feet high, some romancers said, with shoulders four feet broad, a chest like a sugar-hogs-head, and a countenance resembling a compound of orang-utan and tiger. of course our hero knew nothing of these rumours, and as moses declined to give any information regarding his master beyond that already given, he was left to the full play of his imagination. moses was quite candid about it. he made no pretence to shroud things in mystery. "you mus' know, massa nadgel," he said, as they slowly drew near to the island, "i's 'fraid ob 'im dough i lub 'im." "but why do you love him, moses?" "'cause he sabe my life an' set me free." "indeed? well, that is good reason. and why do you fear him?" "da's what i don' know, massa," replied the negro with a puzzled look. "is he harsh, then?" "no." "passionate?" "no. gentle as a lamb." "strong?" "yes--oh! mighty strong an' big." "surely you're not afraid of his giving you a licking, moses?" "oh no," returned the negro, with a smile of expansive benignity; "i's not 'fraid ob dat. i's bin a slabe once, got used to lickin's. don't care nuffin' at all for a lickin'!" "then it must be that you're afraid of hurting his feelings, moses, for i know of no other kind of fear." "pr'aps da's it!" said the negro with a bright look, "now i wouldn't wonder if you's right, massa nadgel. it neber come into my head in dat light before. i used to be t'ink, t'inkin' ob nights--when i's tired ob countin' my fingers an' toes. but i couldn't make nuffin' ob it. _now_ i knows! it's 'fraid i am ob hurtin' his feelin's." in the excess of his satisfaction at the solution of this long-standing puzzle, moses threw back his head, shut his eyes, opened his enormous mouth and chuckled. by the time he had reversed this process they were sufficiently near to krakatoa to distinguish all its features clearly, and the negro began to point out to nigel its various localities. there were three prominent peaks on it, he said, named respectively, perboewatan, about feet high, at the northern end of the island; danan, near the centre, feet; and rakata, at the southern end, over feet. it was high up on the sides of the last cone that the residence of the hermit was situated. "and you won't tell me your master's name?" said nigel. moses shook his woolly head. "no, sar, no. i's 'fraid ob him--he! he! i 'fraid ob hurtin' his feelin's!" "well, never mind; i'll find it out from himself soon. by the way, what were you telling me about explosions yesterday when that little white gull came to admire your pretty face, and took off our attention?" "well, i dun know. not got much to tell, only dar's bin rumblin' an' grumblin's an' heavin's lately in de mountains as didn't use to be, an' cracks like somet'in' bustin' down b'low, an' massa he shook 'is head two or t'ree times an' look solemn. he don't often do dat--shook 'is head, i mean--for he mostly always looks solemn." a few minutes later the boat, running through a narrow opening among the rocks into a small circular harbour not more than fifty yards in diameter, rested its keel gently on a little bed of pure yellow sand. the shore there was so densely covered with bushes that the harbour might easily have been passed without being observed. jumping ashore, moses made the painter fast to a tree. "what a quiet, cosy place!" said nigel, as he sprung on the beach and looked admiringly round. "yes, an' not easy to find if you don't knows 'im. we will leabe de boat here,--no danger ob bein' tooked away--an' den go up to de cave." "is it far?" asked nigel. "a good bit--near de top ob de mountain," answered the negro, who looked at his companion somewhat uneasily. "why, what's the matter, moses?" "nuffin'--oh! nuffin'--but--but when massa axes you who you is, an' what you bin up to, an' whar you're a-gwine to, an' what wages you want, jist you answer 'im in a sorter permiscuous way, an' don't be too partikler." "wages! man, what d'ye mean?" "well, you'll 'scuse me, sar," returned the negro with an air of profound humility, "but my massa lost a old sarvint--a nigger like myself--only last munt', an' he wants to go on one ob his usual expeditions jus' now, so he sends me to batavia to git anoder man--`a good one, you know,' says massa,--an' as you, sar, was good 'nuff to ax me what you should do, an' you looked a pritty smart man, i--" "you scoundrel!" cried nigel, interrupting him, "do you really mean to tell me that you've brought me here as a hired servant?" "well, not zackly," returned moses, with solemn simplicity, "you needn't ax no wages unless you like." "but what if i don't want to take service?" demanded our hero, with a savage frown. "you kin go home agin," answered moses, humbly. nigel could contain himself no longer. as he observed the man's deprecatory air, and thought of his own position, he burst into a fit of hearty laughter, whereupon the negro recovered himself and smiled the smile of the guiltless. "come," said nigel at last. "lead on, you rascal! when i see your master i shall know what to say." "all right, massa nadgel, but mind what you say, else i won't answer for de consikences. foller me an' look arter your feet, for de road is roughish." the negro's last remark was unquestionably true, for the road--if a mere footpath merits the name--was rugged in the extreme--here winding round the base of steep cliffs, there traversing portions of luxuriant forest, elsewhere skirting the margin of the sea. moses walked at such a pace that nigel, young and active though he was, found it no easy matter to keep up with him. pride, however, forbade him to show the slightest sign of difficulty, and made him even converse now and then in tones of simulated placidity. at last the path turned abruptly towards the face of a precipice and seemed to terminate in a small shallow cave. any one following the path out of mere curiosity would have naturally imagined that the cave was the termination of it; and a very poor termination too, seeing that it was a rather uninteresting cave, the whole of the interior of which could be seen at a single glance from its mouth. but this cave served in reality as a blind. climbing by one or two projecting points, the negro, closely followed by nigel, reached a narrow ledge and walked along it a short distance. on coming to the end of the ledge he jumped down into a mass of undergrowth, where the track again became visible--winding among great masses of weatherworn lava. here the ascent became very steep, and moses put on what sporting men call a spurt, which took him far ahead of nigel, despite the best efforts of the latter to keep up. still our hero scorned to run or call out to his guide to wait, and thereby admit himself beaten. he pushed steadily on, and managed to keep the active moses in view. presently the negro stepped upon a platform of rock high up on the cliffs, where his form could be distinctly seen against the bright sky. there nigel observed that he was joined by a man whose tall commanding figure seemed in such a position to be of gigantic proportions. the two stood engaged in earnest conversation while watching nigel. the latter immediately slackened his pace, in order at once to recover breath and approach with a leisurely aspect. "the wild man of the island, i suppose," he thought as he drew near; but on coming still nearer he saw that he must be mistaken, for the stranger who advanced to meet him with gracious ease and self-possession was obviously a gentleman, and dressed, not unlike himself, in a sort of mixed travelling and shooting costume. "i must apologise, mr roy, for the presumption of my man, in bringing you here under something like false pretences," said the stranger, holding out his hand, which nigel shook heartily. "moses, i find, has failed to execute my commission, and has partially deceived you; but as you are now here, the least i can do is to bid you welcome, and offer you the hospitality of my roof." there was something so courteous and kindly in the tone and manner of the stranger, and something so winning in his soft gentle tones, which contrasted strangely with his grand towering figure and massive bearded countenance, that nigel felt drawn to him instantly. indeed there was a peculiar and mysterious something about him which quite fascinated our hero as he looked up at him, for, bordering on six feet though nigel was, the stranger stood several inches above him. "you are very kind," said the visitor, "and i don't think that moses can fairly be charged with deceiving me, although he has been somewhat unwise in his way of going about this business, for i had told him i wanted to see something of these regions, and perhaps it may be to my advantage to travel in your service--that is, if i can be of any use to you; but the time at my disposal may be too limited." "how much time have you to spare?" asked the stranger. "well, say perhaps three months." "that will do," returned his questioner, looking thoughtfully at the ground. "we will talk of this hereafter." "but--excuse me," said nigel, "your man spoke of you as a hermit--a sort of--of--forgive me--a wild-man-of-the-island, if i may--" "no, i didn't, massa nadgel," said the negro, the edge of whose flat contradiction was taken off by the extreme humility of his look. "well," returned nigel, with a laugh; "you at least gave me to understand that other people said something of that sort." "da's right, massa nadgel--kite right. you're k'rect _now_." "people have indeed got some strange ideas about me, i believe," interposed the hermit, with a grave almost sad expression and tone. "but come, let me introduce you to my hermitage and you shall judge for yourself." so saying, this singular being turned and led the way further up the rugged side of the peak of rakata. after about five minutes' walk in silence, the trio reached a spot where there was a clear view over the tree-tops, revealing the blue waters of the strait, with the java shores and mountains in the distance. behind them there yawned, dark and mysterious, a mighty cavern, so black and high that it might well suggest a portal leading to the regions below, where vulcan is supposed to stir those tremendous fires which have moulded much of the configuration of the world, and which are ever seething--an awful inferno--under the thin crust of the globe on which we stand. curiously-formed and large-leaved trees of the tropics, with their pendent parasites, as well as rank grasses, sprouting from below and hanging from above, partially concealed this cavern from nigel when he first turned towards it, but a few steps further on he could see it in all its rugged grandeur. "my home," said the hermit, with a very slight smile and the air of a prince, as he turned towards his visitor and waved his hand towards it. "a magnificent entrance at all events," said nigel, returning the smile with something of dubiety, for he was not quite sure that his host was in earnest. "follow me," said the hermit, leading the way down a narrow well-worn path which seemed to lose itself in profound darkness. after being a few minutes within the cavern, however, nigel's eyes became accustomed to the dim light, and he perceived that the roof rapidly lowered, while its walls narrowed until they reached a spot which was not much wider than an ordinary corridor. here, however, it was so dark that it was barely possible to see a small door in the right-hand wall before which they halted. lifting a latch the hermit threw the door wide open, and a glare of dazzling light almost blinded the visitor. passing through the entrance, nigel followed his guide, and the negro let the heavy door shut behind him with a clang that was depressingly suggestive of a prison. "again i bid you welcome to my home," said the hermit, turning round and extending his hand, which nigel mechanically took and pressed, but without very well knowing what he did, for he was almost dumfounded by what he saw, and for some minutes gazed in silence around him. and, truly, there was ground for surprise. the visitor found himself in a small but immensely high and brilliantly lighted cavern or natural chamber, the walls of which were adorned with drawings of scenery and trees and specimens of plants, while on various shelves stood innumerable stuffed birds, and shells, and other specimens of natural history. a table and two chairs stood at one end of the cave, and, strangest of all, a small but well-filled book-case ornamented the other end. "arabian nights!" thought nigel. "i _must_ be dreaming." his wandering eyes travelled slowly round the cavern until they rested at last on the door by which they had entered, beside which stood the negro with a broad grin on his sable visage. chapter seven. wonders of the hermit's cave and island. the thing that perhaps surprised nigel most in this strange cavern was the blaze of light with which it was filled, for it came down direct through a funnel-shaped hole in the high roof and bore a marvellous resemblance to natural sunshine. he was well aware that unless the sun were shining absolutely in the zenith, the laws of light forbade the entrance of a _direct_ ray into such a place, yet there were the positive rays, although the sun was not yet high in the heavens, blinding him while he looked at them, and casting the shadows of himself and his new friends on the floor. there was the faintest semblance of a smile on the hermit's face as he quietly observed his visitor, and waited till he should recover self-possession. as for moses--words are wanting to describe the fields of teeth and gum which he displayed, but no sound was suffered to escape his magnificent lips, which closed like the slide of a dark lantern when the temptation to give way to feeling became too strong. "my cave interests you," said the hermit at last. "it amazes me," returned our hero, recovering himself and looking earnestly at his host, "for you seem not only to have all the necessaries of life around you in your strange abode, but many of the luxuries; among them the cheering presence of sunshine--though how you manage to get it is beyond my powers of conception." "it is simple enough, as you shall see," returned the hermit. "you have heard of the saying, no doubt, that `all things are possible to well-directed labour?'" "yes, and that `nothing can be achieved without labour.'" "well, i have proved that to some extent," continued the hermit. "you see, by the various and miscellaneous implements on my shelves, that i am given to dabbling a little in science, and thus have made my lonely home as pleasant as such a home can be--but let us not talk of these matters just now. you must be hungry. have you had breakfast?" "no, we have not--unless, at least, you count a sea biscuit dipped in salt water a breakfast. after all, that may well be the case, for hermits are noted for the frugality of their fare." "i am not a genuine hermit," remarked his host gravely. "men do indeed call me the hermit of rakata, because i dwell alone here under the shadow of this particular cone of krakatoa, but i do not ape the austere life of the conventional hermit, as you see, either in my domestic arrangements or food. come, your breakfast is ready. from my outlook i saw your boat approaching some hours ago, and knew that it was mine, so i made ready for your arrival, though i did not guess that moses was bringing me a guest instead of a servant!" so saying, he led the way through a short natural passage to an inner cave, the entrance to which, like the outer one, was boarded. on opening a small door, nigel was again greeted as before with brilliant rays of sunshine, and, in addition, with a gush of odours that were exceedingly grateful to a hungry man. a low "ho! ho!" behind him told that his black companion was equally gratified. the inner cave or mess-room, as the host styled it, combined dining-room and kitchen, for while in one corner stood a deal table with plates, cups, etcetera, but no tablecloth, in another stood a small stove, heated by an oil-lamp, from which issued puffing and sputtering sounds, and the savoury odours above referred to. nigel now perceived that although his strange host necessarily spoke a good deal while welcoming him and offering him the hospitalities of his abode, he was by no means communicative. on the contrary, it was evident that he was naturally reserved and reticent, and that although polite and gentle in the extreme, there was a quiet grave dignity about him which discouraged familiarity. it must not be supposed, however, that he was in any degree morosely silent. he was simply quiet and undemonstrative, said little except when asked questions, and spoke, alike to nigel and moses, in the soft, low, kindly tones with which one might address very young people. going to the stove he took a coffee-pot therefrom and set it on the table. at the same time, moses, without requiring to be told, opened the oven and brought forth fried fish, meat of some kind, and cakes of he knew not what, but cared little, for their excellence was unquestionable. during the meal that followed, nigel ventured as far as politeness permitted--indeed a little further, if truth must be told--to inquire into the circumstances and motives of his entertainer in taking up his abode in such a strange place, but he soon found that his eccentric friend was not one who could be "pumped." without a touch of rudeness, and in the sweetest of voices, he simply assumed an absent manner and changed the subject of discourse, when he did not choose to reply, by drawing attention to some irrelevant matter, or by putting a counter question which led away from the subject. nigel also found that his host never laughed and rarely smiled, though, when he did so, the smile was so slight as merely to indicate a general feeling of urbanity and goodwill, and it was followed instantly by a look of gravity, if not sadness. altogether the guest was much perplexed about the host at first, and somewhat constrained in consequence, but gradually he began to feel at ease. another discovery that he soon made was, that the hermit treated moses not as a servant, but as if he were in all respects an equal and a comrade. after eating for some time in silence, and having tried to draw out his host without success, nigel changed his tactics and said-- "you were so kind as to speak of me as your guest, mr--mr--i beg pardon, may i--" "my name is van der kemp," said the hermit quietly. "well, mr van der kemp, i must tell you that i am quite willing to accept the position for which moses hired me--" "no, i didn't," contradicted the negro, flatly yet very gently, both in tone and manner, for long residence with the hermit had apparently imbued him with something of his spirit. "well, then," said nigel, "the position for which moses _should have_ hired some one else." ("k'rect _now_," whispered moses.) "of course i do not intend to ask for or accept wages, and also, of course, i accept the position on the understanding that you think me fit for the service. may i ask what that service is to be, and where you think of going to?" "the service," returned the hermit slowly and with his eyes fixed on the floor as if pondering his reply, "is to accompany me as my attendant and companion, to take notes as occasion may serve, and to paddle a canoe." at this reply our hero almost laughed, but was prevented from doing so by his host asking abruptly if he understood canoeing. "well, yes. at least i can manage what in england is known as the rob roy canoe, having possessed one in my boyhood." "that will do," returned the hermit gravely. "can you write shorthand?" "i can. a friend of mine, a reporter on one of the london dailies, once gave me a few lessons, and, becoming fond of the subject, i followed it up." "that is well; you did well. it is of immense advantage to a man, whatever his position in life, that he should be able to write shorthand with facility. especially useful is it in commerce. i know that, having had some experience of commercial life." at this point in the conversation nigel was startled by what was to him an absolutely new sensation, namely a shaking or trembling of the whole cavern, accompanied by faint rumbling sounds as if in deeper caverns below him. he glanced quickly at his host and at the negro, but to his surprise these remarkable men seemed not to be aware of the shaking, although it was severe enough to cause some of the furniture to rattle. observing his look of surprise, moses remarked, with a benignant though capacious smile, "mountain's got de mulligrumps pritty bad jist now." "we are pretty well accustomed to that," said the host, observing that nigel turned to him for an explanation. "no doubt you are aware that this region is celebrated for earthquakes and volcanoes, so much so that the inhabitants pay little attention to them unless they become unusually violent. this island of krakatoa is itself the fragment of an extinct volcano; but the term `extinct' is scarcely applicable to volcanoes, for it is well-known that many which were for centuries supposed to be extinct have awakened to sudden and violent activity--`quiescent' might be a more appropriate term." "yes," said moses, ceasing to masticate for purposes of speech; "dem 'stinkt volcanoes hab got an okard habit ob unstinkin' dereselves hereabouts when you don' 'spect it of 'em. go on, massa. i ax yer pard'n for 'truptin'." the hermit's peculiar good-natured little smile played for a moment on his massive features, and then faded away as he continued-- "perhaps you may have heard that this is the very heart of the district that has long been recognised as the greatest focus of volcanic activity on the globe?" "i have heard something of the sort," answered nigel, "but i confess that my knowledge is limited and my mind hazy on the subject." "i doubt it not," returned his friend, "for geographical and scientific training in primary schools anywhere is not what it might be. the island of java, with an area about equal to that of england, contains no fewer than forty-nine great volcanic mountains, some of which rise to , feet above the sea-level. many of these mountains are at the present time active." ("yes, much _too_ active," muttered the negro), "and more than half of them have been seen in eruption since java was occupied by europeans. hot springs, mud-volcanoes, and vapour-vents abound all over the island, whilst earthquakes are by no means uncommon. there is a distinct line in the chain of these mountains which seems to point to a great fissure in the earth's crust, caused by the subterranean fires. this tremendous crack or fissure crosses the straits of sunda, and in consequence we find a number of these vents--as volcanic mountains may be styled--in the island of sumatra, which you saw to the nor'ard as you came along. but there is supposed to be another great crack in the earth's crust--indicated by several volcanic mountains--which crosses the other fissure almost at right angles, and at the exact point where these two lines intersect _stands this island of krakatoa_. "i emphasise the fact," continued the hermit after a pause, "first, because, although this has been a quiescent volcano since the year , and people have come to regard it as extinct, there are indications now which lead me to believe that its energy is reviving; and, second, because this focus where fissures cross each other--this krakatoa island--is in reality part of the crater of an older and much larger volcanic mountain, which must have been literally blown away in prehistoric times, and of which krakatoa and the neighbouring islets of varlaten, polish hat, lang island, and the rest, are but the remnants of the great crater ring. if these rumblings and minor earthquakes, which i have noticed of late--and the latest of which you have just experienced--are the precursors of another explosion, my home here may be rendered untenable." "hi!" exclaimed moses, who had been listening with open mouth and eyes to this discourse, which was obviously news to him, "i hope, massa, he ain't a-gwine to 'splode to-day--anyhow, not till arter breakfast!" "you must have studied the subject of volcanoes a good deal, i suppose, from what you say," observed nigel. "naturally, living as i do almost on the top of one. my library, which i will show you presently, contains many interesting works on the subject. but come, if you have finished we will ascend the peak of rakata and i will introduce you to my sunshine." he rose and led his guest back to the outer cavern, leaving moses still busy with knife and fork, apparently meditating on the pleasure of breakfasting with the prospect of a possible and immediate explosion. in passing through the first chamber, nigel observed, in a natural recess, the library just referred to. he also noted that, besides stuffed birds and other specimens and sea-shells, there were chisels, saws, hammers, and other tools, besides something like a forge and carpenter's bench in a side-chamber opening out of the large one, which he had not at first seen--from all which he concluded that the hermit was imbued with mechanical as well as scientific and literary tastes. at the further and darker end of the outer cave there was a staircase, partly natural, and partly improved by art, which led upward into profound darkness. "let me take your hand here," said the hermit, looking down upon his guest with his slight but winning smile; "it is a rough and dark staircase. you will be apt to stumble." nigel placed his hand in that of his host with perfect confidence, and with a curious feeling--aroused, probably, by the action--of having returned to the days of childhood. the stair was indeed rugged as well as winding, and so pitchy dark that the youth could not have advanced at all without stumbling, unless his host had held him all the way. at last a glimmer of light was seen in the distance. it seemed to increase suddenly, and in a few moments the two emerged from total darkness into dazzling sunshine. when nigel looked round him he saw that they had gained a plateau, high up on the very summit of the mountain, which appeared to be absolutely inaccessible by any means save that by which they had reached it. "this is what i call my observatory," said the hermit, turning to his guest. "we have passed right through the peak of rakata, and reached its northern side, which commands, as you see, a view of all the northern part of the island. i come here often in the night to study the face of the heavens, the moon, and stars, and meditate on their mysterious maker, whose ways are indeed wonderful and past finding out; but all which must, in the nature of things, be _right_." as this was the first mention that the hermit had made of the creator, and the reference was one requiring more thought than nigel had yet bestowed on it, he made no rejoinder. "have you studied astronomy, mr roy?" "no--at least not more of it than was needful for navigation. but pray, sir, do not call me mr roy," said the youth, with a somewhat embarrassed air. "if i am to be your assistant and familiar companion for two or three months, i hope that you will agree to call me nigel. your man has done so already without asking leave!" "i will, on one condition." "and that is?" "that you also dispense with the `mr' and `sir,' and call me van der kemp." "agreed," said nigel, "though it does not seem so appropriate in me as in you, considering the difference of our years." "look here," said the hermit, turning abruptly to a small wooden shed which had hitherto escaped the youth's observation, so covered was it with overhanging boughs and tropical creeping plants, "these are my astronomical instruments." he pointed to a table in the hut on which stood several telescopes--and microscopes as well--one of the former being a large instrument, certainly not less than six feet long, with a diameter of apparently six or eight inches. "here, you see, i have the means of investigating the wonders of nature in her grandest as well as her minutest scales. and there," he added, pointing to a couple of large reflecting mirrors in strong wooden frames, erected on joints in such a way that they could be turned in any direction,--"there you have the secret of my sunshine. one of these mirrors catches the sunshine direct and reflects it on the other, which, as you see, is so arranged that it transmits the rays down the natural funnel or chimney into the cave. by means of chains connected with the mechanism, and extending below, i can change the direction of the mirrors as the sun changes its place in the sky, without requiring to come up here." "very ingenious!" said nigel; "but how do you manage when the mountain comes between you and the sun, as i see it cannot fail to do during some part of the day?" "simply enough," returned the hermit, pointing to a distant projecting cliff or peak. "on yon summit i have fixed four mirrors similar to these. when the sun can no longer be reflected from this pair, the first of the distant mirrors takes it up and shoots a beam of light over here. when the sun passes from that, the second mirror is arranged to catch and transmit it, and so on to the fourth. after that i bid good-bye to the sun, and light my lamp!" nigel felt an almost irresistible tendency to smile at this, but the grave simplicity of the man forbade such familiarity. "look yonder," continued the hermit, sweeping one of his long arms towards sumatra, "in that direction runs the line of volcanic disturbance--the fissure of which i have already spoken. focus this telescope to suit your sight. now, do you see the little island away there to the nor'-west?" "yes." "well, that is _varlaten_. i mentioned it when at breakfast. sweep your glass round to the nor'ard, the little island there is _polish hat_, and you see _lang island_ in the nor'-east. these, with krakatoa, are merely the higher parts still remaining above water of the ring or lip of the ancient crater. this will give you some idea what an enormous mountain the original of this old volcano must have been. this island-mountain is estimated to have been twenty-five miles in circumference, and , to , feet high. it was blown into the air in , and this island, with the few islets i have pointed out, is all that remains of it. now, cast your eye down the centre of the island on which we stand; you see several cones of various sizes. these are ancient vents, supposed to be extinct--" "but one of them, the one furthest away," interrupted nigel, steadying his telescope on the branch of a tree, "seems to be anything but extinct, for i see a thin column of white smoke or steam rising from it." "that is just what i was going to point out. they call that perboewatan. it is the lowest peak on the island, about feet high, and stands, i should say, in the very centre of the ancient crater, where are the two fissures i have mentioned. for two hundred years perboewatan has not smoked like that, and, slight though it is at present, i cannot help thinking that it indicates an impending eruption, especially when i consider that earthquakes have become more numerous of late years, and there was one in which was so violent as to damage seriously the lighthouse on java's first point." "then you have resided here for some time?" said nigel. "yes, for many years," replied the hermit, in a low, sad tone. "but is it wise in you to stay if you think an explosion so likely? don't you needlessly run considerable risk?" "i do not fear to die." nigel looked at his new friend in surprise, but there was not a shadow of boastfulness or affectation either in his look or tone. "besides," he continued, "the explosion may be but slight, and perboewatan is, as you see, about four miles off. people in the neighbourhood of the straits and passing ships are so accustomed to volcanic explosions on a more or less grand scale that they will never notice this little cloud hanging over krakatoa. those who, like myself, know the ancient history of the island, regard it in a more serious light, but we may be wrong. come, now, we will descend again and have a ramble over part of the island. it will interest you. not many men have penetrated its luxuriant forests or know their secrets. i have wandered through them in all directions, and can guide you. indeed, moses could do that as well as i, for he has lived with me many years. come." returning to the cavern they found that the active negro had not only finished his breakfast, but had washed the dishes and cleared up the kitchen, so that he was quite ready to shoulder a wallet and a gun when his master bade him prepare for a day in the forest. it is not, however, our intention to follow the trio thither. matters of greater interest, if not importance, claim our attention at present. let it suffice to say, therefore, that after a most delightful day, spent in wandering amongst the luxuriant tropical vegetation with which the island was densely covered, visiting one of the extinct craters, bathing in one of the numerous hot springs, and collecting many objects of interest to the hermit, in the shape of botanical and geological specimens, they returned in the evening to their cavern-house not only ready but eager for sustenance and repose. chapter eight. perboewatan becomes moderately violent. the cave was enshrouded in almost total darkness when they entered it, but this was quickly dispelled, to nigel's no little surprise, by the rays of a magnificent oil-lamp, which moses lighted and placed on the table in the larger cave. a smaller one of the same kind already illuminated the kitchen. not much conversation was indulged in during the progress of the supper that was soon spread upon the rude table. the three men, being uncommonly hungry and powerfully robust, found in food a sufficient occupation for their mouths for some time. after supper they became a little, but not much, more sociable, for, although nigel's active mind would gladly have found vent in conversation, he experienced some difficulty in making headway against the discouragement of van der kemp's very quiet disposition, and the cavernous yawns with which moses displayed at once his desire for slumber and his magnificent dental arrangements. "we always retire early to rest after a day of this sort," said the hermit at last, turning to his guest. "do you feel disposed for bed?" "indeed i do," said nigel, with a half-suppressed yawn, that was irresistibly dragged out of him by the sight of another earthquake on the negro's face. "come, then, i will show you your berth; we have no bedrooms here," said the hermit, with a sort of deprecatory smile, as he led the way to the darker end of the cavern, where he pointed to a little recess in which there was a pile of something that smelt fresh and looked like heather, spread on which there was a single blanket. "sailors are said to be indifferent to sheets. you won't miss them, i daresay?" "not in the least," returned nigel, with a laugh. "good-night," he added, shaking hands with his host and suppressing another yawn, for moses' face, even in the extreme distance, was irresistibly infectious! our hero was indifferent not only to sheets, but also, in certain circumstances, to the usual habiliments of night. indeed, while travelling in out-of-the-way regions he held it to be a duty to undress but partially before turning in, so that he might be ready for emergencies. on lying down he found his mattress, whatever it was, to be a springy, luxurious bed, and was about to resign himself to slumber when he observed that, from the position in which he lay, he could see the cavern in all its extent. opening his half-closed eyes, therefore, he watched the proceedings of his host, and in doing so, as well as in speculating on his strange character and surroundings, he became somewhat wakeful. he saw that van der kemp, returning to the other end of the cave, sat down beside the lamp, the blaze of which fell full on his fine calm countenance. a motion of his head brought moses to him, who sat down beside him and entered into earnest conversation, to judge from his gestures, for nothing could be heard where nigel lay save the monotonous murmur of their voices. the hermit did not move. except for an occasional inclination of the head he appeared to be a grand classic statue, but it was otherwise with the negro. his position in front of the lamp caused him to look if possible even blacker than ever, and the blackness was so uniform that his entire profile became strongly pronounced, thus rendering every motion distinct, and the varied pouting of his huge lips remarkably obvious. the extended left hand, too, with the frequent thrusting of the index finger of the other into the palm, was suggestive of argument, and of much reasoning effort--if not power. after about half-an-hour of conversation, moses arose, shook his master by the hand, appeared to say "good-night" very obviously, yawned, and retired to the kitchen, whence, in five minutes or so, there issued sounds which betokened felicitous repose. meanwhile his master sat motionless for some time, gazing at the floor as if in meditation. then he rose, went to his book-case and took down a large thick volume, which he proceeded to read. nigel had by that time dropped into a drowsy condition, yet his interest in the doings of his strange entertainer was so great that he struggled hard to keep awake, and partially succeeded. "i wonder," he muttered, in sleepy tones, "if that's a f-fam-'ly bible he's reading--or--or--a vol'm o' the en-encyclopida brit--" he dropped off at this point, but, feeling that he had given way to some sort of weakness, he struggled back again in to wakefulness, and saw that the hermit was bending over the large book with his massive brow resting on the palms of both hands, and his fingers thrust into his iron-grey hair. it was evident, however, that he was not reading the book at that moment, for on its pages was lying what seemed to be a miniature or photograph case, at which he gazed intently. nigel roused himself to consider this, and in doing so again dropped off--not yet soundly, however, for curiosity induced one more violent struggle, and he became aware of the fact that the hermit was on his knees with his face buried in his hands. the youth's thoughts must have become inextricably confused at this point, yet their general drift was indicated by the muttered words: "i--i'm glad o' that--a good sign--an'--an' it's _not_ th' encyclop." here morpheus finally conquered, and he sank into dreamless repose. how long this condition lasted he could not tell, but he was awakened violently by sensations and feelings of dread, which were entirely new to him. the bed on which he rested seemed to heave under him, and his ears were filled by sharp rattling sounds, something like--yet very different from--the continuous roll of musketry. starting up, he sprang into the large cavern where he found van der kemp quietly tightening his belt and moses hastily pulling on his boots. "sometin's bu'sted an' no mistake!" exclaimed the latter. "an eruption from one of the cones," said the hermit. "i have been for a long time expecting it. come with us." he went swiftly up the staircase and passages which led to the observatory as he spoke. the scene that met their eyes on reaching the ledge or plateau was sublime in the extreme, as well as terrific. "as i thought," said van der kemp, in a low tone. "it is perboewatan that has broken out." "the cone from which i observed smoke rising?" asked nigel. "the same. the one over the very centre of the old crater, showing that we were wrong in supposing it to be extinct: it was only slumbering. it is in what vulcanologists term moderate eruption now, and, perhaps, may prove a safety-valve which will prevent a more violent explosion." that the cone of perboewatan was indeed in a state of considerable activity, worthy of a stronger term than "moderate," was very obvious. although at a distance, as we have said, of four miles, the glare of its fires on the three figures perched near the top of rakata was very intense, while explosion after explosion sent molten lava and red-hot rocks, pumice, and dust, high into the thickening air--clouds of smoke and steam being vomited forth at the same time. the wind, of which there was very little, blew it all away from the position occupied by the three observers. "what if the wind were to change and blow it all this way?" asked nigel, with very pardonable feelings of discomfort. "we could return to the cavern," said the hermit. "but what if rakata itself should become active?" it was evident from the very solemn expression on the negro's face that he awaited the reply to nigel's question with some anxiety. "rakata," answered the hermit thoughtfully, "although the highest cone, is the one most distant from the great centre of activity. it is therefore not likely that the volcanic energy will seek a vent here while there are other cones between us and perboewatan. but we shall soon see whether the one vent is likely to suffice. there is undoubtedly no diminution in the explosions at present." there certainly was not, for the voice of the speaker was almost drowned by the horrible din caused, apparently, by the hurtling of innumerable fragments of rock and stones in the air, while a succession of fiery flashes, each followed by a loud explosion, lit up the dome-shaped mass of vapour that was mounting upwards and spreading over the sky. vivid flashes of lightning were also seen playing around the vapour-column. at the same time, there began a fall of fine white dust, resembling snow, which soon covered the foliage and the ground of all the lower part of the island. the sea around was also ere long covered with masses of pumice, which, being very light, floated away into the indian ocean, and these were afterwards encountered in large quantities by various vessels passing through sunda straits. the scientific committee, which ultimately wrote on the details of this eruption in krakatoa, mention this first outburst as being a phase of moderate activity, similar to that which is said to have been exhibited for some months during the years and , and they added that "the outburst was one of considerable violence, especially at its commencement," that falls of dust were noticed at the distance of three hundred miles, and that "the commander of the german war-vessel _elizabeth_ estimated the height of the dust-column issuing from the volcano at kilometres ( , feet or about miles)." to our hero, however, and to moses, the outburst seemed anything but "moderate," and that night as they two sat together in the cave after supper, listening with awe-struck faces to the cannonading and wild musketry going on as it seemed under their very feet, the negro solemnly imparted to nigel in a low whisper that he thought "de end ob de wurld hab come at last!" returning at that moment from his observatory, to which he had ascended for a few minutes to view the scene through one of his glasses, van der kemp relieved their anxieties somewhat by remarking, in his quiet manner, that there was a distinct diminution in the violence of the explosions, and that, from his knowledge and experience of other volcanoes in java, sumatra, and elsewhere, he thought it probable they had seen the worst of it at that time, and that none of the other cones would be likely to break out. "i'm glad to hear you say so," observed nigel, "for although the sight is extremely magnificent and very interesting, both from a scientific and artistic point of view, i cannot help thinking that we should be safer away from this island at present--at least while the volcano is active." the hermit smiled almost pitifully. "i do not apprehend danger," he said, "at least nothing unusual. but it happens that my business requires me to leave in the course of a few days at any rate, so, whether the eruption becomes fiercer or feebler, it will not matter to us. i have preparations to make, however, and i have no doubt you won't object to remain till all is ready for a start?" "oh, as to that," returned the youth, slightly hurt by the implied doubt as to his courage, "if _you_ are willing to risk going off the earth like a skyrocket, i am quite ready to take my chance of following you!" "an' moses am de man," said the negro, smiting his broad chest with his fist, "what's ready to serve as a rocket-stick to bof, an' go up along wid you!" the hermit made the nearest approach to a laugh which nigel had yet seen, as he left the cave to undertake some of the preparations above referred to. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . see _the eruption of krakatoa and subsequent phenomena_ page . (tribner and company, london.) chapter nine. describes, among other things, a singular meeting under peculiar circumstances. there is unquestionably a class of men--especially englishmen--who are deeply imbued with the idea that the universe in general, and our world in particular, has been created with a view to afford them what they call fun. "it would be great fun," said an english commercial man to a friend who sat beside him, "to go and have a look at this eruption. they say it is krakatoa which has broken out after a sleep of two centuries, and as it has been bursting away now for nearly a week, it is likely to hold on for some time longer. what would you say to charter a steamer and have a grand excursion to the volcano?" the friend said he thought it would indeed be "capital fun!" we have never been able to ascertain who these englishmen were, but they must have been men of influence, or able to move men of influence, for they at once set to work and organised an excursion. the place where this excursion was organised was batavia. although that city was situated in java, nearly a hundred miles distant from krakatoa, the inhabitants had not only heard distinctly the explosions of the volcano, but had felt some quakings of the earth and much rattling of doors and windows, besides a sprinkling of ashes, which indicated that the eruption, even in that eruptive region, was of unusual violence. they little imagined to what mighty throes the solid rocks of krakatoa were yet to be subjected before those volcanic fires could find a vent. meanwhile, as we have said, there was enough of the unusual in it to warrant our merchants in their anticipation of a considerable amount of fun. a steamer was got ready; a number of sightseeing enthusiasts were collected, and they set forth on the morning of the th of may. among these excursionists was our friend captain david roy--not that _he_ was addicted to running about in search of "fun," but, being unavoidably thrown idle at the time, and having a poetical turn of mind--derived from his wife--he thought he could not do better than take a run to the volcano and see how his son was getting along. the party reached the scene of the eruption on the morning of the th, having witnessed during the night several tolerably strong explosions, which were accompanied by earthquake shocks. it was found that krakatoa and all the adjoining islands were covered with a fine white dust, like snow, and that the trees on the northern part of the former island and varlaten had been to a great extent deprived of their leaves and branches by falling pumice, while those on lang island and polish hat, as well as those on the peak of rakata, had to a great extent escaped-- no doubt owing to the prevailing direction of the wind. it was soon seen that perboewatan on krakatoa was the cone in active eruption, and the steamer made for its neighbourhood, landing her party within a short distance of its base. explosions were occurring at intervals of from five to ten minutes. each explosion being accompanied by an uncovering of the molten lava in the vent, the overhanging steam-cloud was lighted up with a grand glow for a few seconds. some of the party, who seemed to be authorities on such matters, estimated that the vapour-column rose to a height of nearly , feet, and that fragments of pumice were shot upwards to a height of feet. "that's a sign that the violence of the eruption is diminished," remarked the young merchant, who was in search of fun, as he prepared to wade ankle-deep in the loose pumice up the slopes of the cone. "diminished!" repeated our captain, who had fraternised much with this merchant during their short voyage. "if that's what you call diminishin', i shouldn't like to be here when it's increasin'." "pooh!" exclaimed the merchant, "that's nothing. i've seen, at other volcanoes, pieces of pumice blown up so high that they've been caught by the upper currents of the atmosphere and carried away in an opposite direction to the wind that was blowing below at the time. ay, i believe that dust is sometimes blown _miles_ up into the air." as captain roy thought that the merchant was drawing the long bow he made no reply, but changed the subject by asking what was the height of perboewatan. "three hundred feet or thereabouts," replied his friend. "i hope my son will have the sense to clear out of the island if things look like gittin' worse," muttered the captain, as an unusually violent explosion shook the whole side of the cone. "no fear of him," returned the merchant. "if he is visiting the hermit of rakata, as you tell me, he'll be safe enough. although something of a dare-devil, the hermit knows how to take care of himself. i'm afraid, however, that you'll not find it so easy to `look up' your son as you seem to think. just glance round at these almost impenetrable forests. you don't know what part of the island he may be in just now; and you might as well look for a needle in a bundle of hay as look for him there. he is probably at the other end of krakatoa--four or five miles off--on the south side of rakata, where the hermit's cave is supposed to be, for no one seems to be quite sure as to its whereabouts. besides, you'll have to stick by the excursionists if you wish to return to batavia." captain roy paused for a moment to recover breath, and looking down upon the dense tropical forest that stretched between him and the peak of rakata, he shook his head, and admitted that the merchant was right. turning round he addressed himself once more to the ascent of the cone, on the sides of which the whole excursion party now straggled and struggled, remarking, as he panted along, that hill-climbing among ashes and cinders didn't "come easy to a sea-farin' man." now, nothing was more natural than that van der kemp and his guest should be smitten with the same sort of desire which had brought these excursionists from batavia. the only thing that we do not pretend to account for is the strange coincidence that they should have been so smitten, and had so arranged their plans, that they arrived at perboewatan almost at the same time with the excursionists--only about half an hour before them! their preliminary walk, however, through the tangled, almost impassable, forest had been very slow and toilsome, and having been involved in its shadow from daybreak, they were, of course, quite unaware of the approach of the steamer or the landing of the excursion party. "if the volcano seems quieting down," said nigel to his host, "shall you start to-morrow?" "yes; by daybreak. even if the eruption does _not_ quiet down i must set out, for my business presses." nigel felt much inclined to ask what his business was, but there was a quiet something in the air of the hermit, when he did not choose to be questioned, which effectually silenced curiosity. falling behind a little, till the negro came up with him, nigel tried to obtain information from him, for he felt that he had a sort of right to know at least something about the expedition in which he was about to act a part. "do you know, moses, what business your master is going about?" he asked, in a low voice. "no more nor de man ob de moon, massa nadgel," said moses, with an air at once so truthful and so solemn that the young man gave it up with a laugh of resignation. on arriving at perboewatan, and ascending its sides, they at last became aware of the approach of the excursion steamer. "strange," muttered the hermit, "vessels don't often touch here." "perhaps they have run short of water," suggested nigel. "even if they had it would not be worth their while to stop here for that," returned the hermit, resuming the ascent of the cone after an intervening clump of trees had shut out the steamer from view. it was with feelings of profound interest and considerable excitement that our hero stood for the first time on the top of a volcanic cone and gazed down into its glowing vent. the crater might be described as a huge basin of feet in diameter. from the rim of this basin on which the visitors stood the sides sloped so gradually inward that the flat floor at the bottom was not more than half that in diameter. this floor--which was about feet below the upper edge--was covered with a black crust, and in the centre of it was the tremendous cavity--between one and two hundred feet in diameter-- from which issued the great steam-cloud. the cloud was mixed with quantities of pumice and fragments of what appeared to be black glass. the roar of this huge vent was deafening and stupendous. if the reader will reflect on the wonderful hubbub that can be created even by a kitchen kettle when superheated, and on the exasperating shrieks of a steamboat's safety-valve in action, or the bellowing of a fog-horn, he may form some idea of the extent of his incapacity to conceive the thunderous roar of krakatoa when it began to boil over. when to this awful sound there were added the intermittent explosions, the horrid crackling of millions of rock-masses meeting in the air, and the bubbling up of molten lava--verily it did not require the imagination of a dante to see in all this the very vomiting of gehenna! so amazed and well-nigh stunned was nigel at the sights and sounds that he neither heard nor saw the arrival of the excursionists, until the equally awe-stricken moses touched him on the elbow and drew his attention to several men who suddenly appeared on the crater-brim not fifty yards off, but who, like themselves, were too much absorbed with the volcano itself to observe the other visitors. probably they took them for some of their own party who had reached the summit before them. nigel was yet looking at these visitors in some surprise, when an elderly nautical man suddenly stood not twenty yards off gazing in open-mouthed amazement, past our hero's very nose, at the volcanic fires. "hallo, father!" shouted the one. "zounds! nigel!" exclaimed the other. both men glared and were speechless for several seconds. then nigel rushed at the captain, and the captain met him halfway, and they shook hands with such hearty goodwill as to arrest in his operations for a few moments a photographer who was hastily setting up his camera! yes, science has done much to reveal the marvellous and arouse exalted thoughts in the human mind, but it has also done something to crush enthusiasts and shock the romantic. veracity constrains us to state that there he was, with his tripod, and his eager haste, and his hideous black cloth, preparing to "take" perboewatan on a "dry plate"! and he "took" it too! and you may see it, if you will, as a marvellous frontispiece to the volume by the "krakatoa committee"--a work which is apparently as exhaustive of the subject of krakatoa as was the great explosion itself of those internal fires which will probably keep that volcano quiet for the next two hundred years. but this was not the great eruption of krakatoa--only a rehearsal, as it were. "what brought you here, my son?" asked the captain, on recovering speech. "my legs, father." "don't be insolent, boy." "it's not insolence, father. it's only poetical licence, meant to assure you that i did not come by 'bus or rail, though you did by steamer! but let me introduce you to my friend, mr ---" he stopped short on looking round, for van der kemp was not there. "he hoed away wheneber he saw de peepil comin' up de hill," said moses, who had watched the meeting of father and son with huge delight. "but you kin interdooce _me_ instead," he added, with a crater-like smile. "true, true," exclaimed nigel, laughing. "this is moses, father, my host's servant, and my very good friend, and a remarkably free-and-easy friend, as you see. he will guide us back to the cave, since van der kemp seems to have left us." "who's van der kemp?" asked the captain. "the hermit of rakata, father--that's his name. his father was a dutchman and his mother an english or irish woman--i forget which. he's a splendid fellow; quite different from what one would expect; no more like a hermit than a hermit-crab, except that he lives in a cave under the peak of rakata, at the other end of the island. but you must come with us and pay him a visit. he will be delighted to see you." "what! steer through a green sea of leaves like that?" said the captain, stretching his arm towards the vast forest that lay stretched out below them, "and on my legs, too, that have been used all their lives to a ship's deck? no, my son. i will content myself with this lucky meetin'. but, i say, nigel, lad," continued the old man, somewhat more seriously, "what if the peak o' rakata, what's 'is name, should take to spoutin' like this one, an you, as you say, livin' under it?" "ha! das 'zackly what _i_ say," interposed moses. "das what i oftin says to massa, but he nebber answers. he only smile. massa's not always so purlite as he might be!" "there is no fear," said nigel, "not at present, anyhow, for van der kemp says that the force of this eruption is diminishing--" "it don't look much like it," muttered the captain, as the volcano at that moment gave vent to a burst which seemed like a sarcastic laugh at the hermit's opinion, and sent the more timid of the excursionists sprawling down the cinder-slope in great alarm. "there's reason in what you say, father," said nigel, when the diminution of noise rendered speech more easy; "and after all, as we start off on our travels to-morrow, your visit could not have been a long one." "where do you go first?" asked the captain. "not sure. do _you_ know, moses?" "no; no more'n de man ob de moon. p'r'aps borneo. he go dar sometimes." at this point another roar from the volcano, and a shout from the leader of the excursionists to return on board, broke up the conference. "well, lad, i'm glad i've seen you. don't forget to write your whereabouts. they say there's a lot o' wild places as well as wild men and beasts among them islands, so keep your weather-eye open an' your powder dry. good-bye, nigel. take care of him, moses, and keep him out o' mischief if ye can--which is more than ever i could. good-bye, my boy." "good-bye, father." they shook hands vigorously. in another minute the old seaman was sailing down the cinder-cone at the rate of fourteen knots an hour, while his son, setting off under the guidance of moses towards a different point of the compass, was soon pushing his way through the tangled forest in the direction of the hermit's cave. chapter ten. a curious sea-going craft--the unknown voyage begun. it was early next morning when van der kemp and his man left their couches and descended to the shore, leaving their visitor enjoying the benefit of that profound slumber which bids defiance to turmoil and noise, however stupendous, and which seems to be the peculiar privilege of healthy infants and youthful seamen. perboewatan had subsided considerably towards morning, and had taken to that internal rumbling, which in the feline species indicates mitigated indignation. the hermit had therefore come to the conclusion that the outburst was over, and went with moses to make arrangements for setting forth on his expedition after breakfast. they had scarcely left the cave when nigel awoke. feeling indisposed for further repose, he got up and went out in that vague state of mind which is usually defined as "having a look at the weather." whether or not he gathered much information from the look we cannot tell, but, taking up his short gun, which stood handy at the entrance of the cave, he sauntered down the path which his host had followed a short time before. arrived at the shore, he observed that a branch path diverged to the left, and appeared to run in the direction of a high precipice. he turned into it, and after proceeding through the bushes for a short way he came quite unexpectedly on a cavern, the mouth of which resembled, but was much higher and wider than that which led to the hermit's home. just as he approached it there issued from its gloomy depths a strange rumbling sound which induced him to stop and cock his gun. a curious feeling of serio-comic awe crept over him as the idea of a fiery dragon leaped into his mind! at the same time, the fancy that the immense abyss of darkness might be one of the volcanic vents diminished the comic and increased the serious feeling. ere long the sound assumed the definite tone of footsteps, and the dragon fancy seemed about to become a reality when he beheld a long narrow thing of uncertain form emerging from the darkness. "it must be coming out tail-foremost!" he muttered, with a short laugh at his semi-credulity. another instant and the hermit emerged into the blazing sunshine, and stood pictured against the intense darkness like a being of supernatural radiance, with the end of a long narrow canoe on his shoulder. as nigel passed round a bush to reach him he perceived the dark form of moses emerging from the depths and supporting the body of the canoe. "i see you are active and an early riser," said the hermit, with a nod of approval on seeing our hero. "i almost took you for a krakatoa monster!" said nigel, as they came out in front of the cavern and laid the canoe on the ground. "why, you've got here one of the craft which we in england call a rob roy canoe." "it is fashioned on the same pattern," said the hermit, "but with one or two alterations of my own devising, and an improvement--as i think-- founded on what i have myself seen, when travelling with the eskimos of greenland." van der kemp here pointed out that the canoe was not only somewhat broader than the kind used in england, but was considerably longer, and with three openings or manholes in the deck, so that it was capable of holding three persons. also, that there was a large rounded mass of wood fixed in front of the three manholes. "these saddles, as i call them," said the hermit, "have been suggested to me by the eskimos, who, instead of wearying their arms by supporting the double-bladed paddle continuously, rest it on the saddle and let it slide about thereon while being used. thus they are able to carry a much longer and heavier paddle than that used in the rob roy canoe, the weight of which, as it rests on the saddle, is not felt. moreover it does not require nearly so much dip to put it in the water. i have heard of a sort of upright with a universal joint being applied to the english canoe, but it seems to me a much more clumsy and much less effective, because rigid, contrivance than the eskimo saddle. inside, under the deck, as i will show you by and by, i have lighter and shorter paddles for use when in narrow rivers, but i prefer the long heavy paddle when traversing great stretches of ocean." "you don't mean to say you ever go to sea in an eggshell like that!" exclaimed nigel in surprise. "indeed we do," returned the hermit, "and we are fitted out for longish voyages and rough weather. besides, it is not so much of an eggshell as you suppose. i made it myself, and took care that it should be fit for the work required of it. the wood of which it is made, although light, is very tough, and it is lined with a skin of strong canvas which is fixed to the planks with tar. this makes the craft watertight as well as strong. the ribs also are very light and close together, and every sixth rib is larger and longer than the others and made of tougher wood. all these ribs are bound together by longitudinal pieces, or laths, of very tough wood, yet so thin that the whole machine is elastic without being weak. besides this, there are two strong oiled-canvas partitions, which divide the canoe into three watertight compartments, any two of which will float it if the third should get filled." "is this then the craft in which you intend to voyage?" asked nigel. "it is. we shall start in an hour or two. i keep it in this cave because it is near the landing-place. but come, you will understand things better when you see us making our arrangements. of course you understand how to manage sails of every kind?" "if i did not it would ill become me to call myself a sailor," returned our hero. "that is well, because you will sit in the middle, from which position the sail is partly managed. i usually sit in the bow to have free range for the use of my gun, if need be, and moses steers." van der kemp proceeded down the track as he said this, having, with the negro, again lifted the canoe on his shoulder. a few minutes' walk brought them to the beach at the spot where nigel had originally landed. here a quantity of cargo lay on the rocks ready to be placed in the canoe. there were several small bags of pemmican, which van der kemp had learned to make while travelling on the prairies of north america among the red indians,--for this singular being seemed to have visited most parts of the habitable globe during his not yet very long life. there were five small casks of fresh water, two or three canisters of gunpowder, a small box of tea and another of sugar, besides several bags of biscuits. there were also other bags and boxes which did not by their appearance reveal their contents, and all the articles were of a shape and size which seemed most suitable for passing through the manholes, and being conveniently distributed and stowed in the three compartments of the canoe. there was not very much of anything, however, so that when the canoe was laden and ready for its voyage, the hermit and his man were still able to raise and carry it on their shoulders without the assistance of nigel. there was one passenger whom we have not yet mentioned, namely, a small monkey which dwelt in the cave with the canoe, and which, although perfectly free to come and go when he pleased, seldom left the cave except for food, but seemed to have constituted himself the guardian of the little craft. spinkie, as moses had named him, was an intensely affectionate creature, with a countenance of pathetic melancholy which utterly belied his character, for mischief and fun were the dominating qualities of that monkey. he was seated on a water-cask when nigel first caught sight of him, holding the end of his long tail in one hand, and apparently wiping his nose with it. "is that what he is doing?" asked nigel of the negro. "oh no, massa nadgel," said moses. "spinkie nebber ketch cold an' hab no need ob a pocket-hang-kitcher. he only tickles his nose wid 'is tail. but he's bery fond ob doin' dat." being extremely fond of monkeys, nigel went forward to fondle him, and spinkie being equally fond of fondling, resigned himself placidly--after one interrogative gaze of wide-eyed suspicion--into the stranger's hands. a lifelong friendship was cemented then and there. after stowing the cargo the party returned to the upper cavern, leaving the monkey to guard the canoe. "an' he's a good defender ob it," said moses, "for if man or beast happen to come near it when spinkie's in charge, dat monkey sets up a skriekin' fit to cause a 'splosion ob perboewatan!" breakfast over, the hermit put his cave in order for a pretty long absence, and they again descended to the shore, each man carrying his bed on his shoulder. each bed, however, was light and simple. it consisted merely of one blanket wrapped up in an oil-cloth sheet. besides, an old-fashioned powder-flask and shot belt. van der kemp and nigel had slung a bullet-pouch on their shoulders, and carried small hatchets and hunting-knives in their belts. moses was similarly armed, with this difference, that his _couteau de chasse_ bore stronger resemblance to an ancient roman sword than a knife, and his axe was of larger size than the hatchets of his companions. launching the canoe, the hermit and his man held it fast at either end while nigel was directed to take his place in the central of the three openings or manholes. he did so and found himself seated on a flat board on the bottom of the canoe, which was so shallow that the deck scarcely rose as high as his waist. round the manhole there was a ledge of thin wood, about three inches high, to which a circular apron of oiled-canvas was attached. "yes, you'd better understand that thing before we start," said van der kemp, observing that nigel was examining the contrivance with some curiosity. "it's an apron to tie round you in bad weather to keep the water out. in fine weather it is rolled as you see it now round the ledge. undo the buckle before and behind and you will see how it is to be used." acting as directed, nigel unbuckled the roll and found that he was surrounded by a sort of petticoat of oil-skin which could be drawn up and buckled round his chest. in this position it could be kept by a loop attached to a button, or a wooden pin, thrust through the coat. "you see," explained the hermit, "the waves may wash all over our deck and round our bodies without being able to get into the canoe while we have these things on--there are similar protections round the other holes." "i understand," said nigel. "but how if water gets in through a leak below?" "do you see that brass thing in front of you?" returned the hermit. "that is a pump which is capable of keeping under a pretty extensive leak. the handle unships, so as to be out of the way when not wanted. i keep it here, under the deck in front of me, along with mast and sails and a good many other things." as he spoke he raised a plank of the deck in front of the foremost hole, and disclosed a sort of narrow box about six feet long by six inches broad. the plank was hinged at one end and fastened with a hook at the other so as to form a lid to the box. the hole thus disclosed was not an opening into the interior of the canoe, but was a veritable watertight box just under the deck, so that even if it were to get filled with water not a drop could enter the canoe itself. but the plank-lid was so beautifully fitted, besides shutting tightly down on india-rubber, that the chance of leakage through that source was very remote. although very narrow, this box was deep, and contained a variety of useful implements; among them a slender mast and tiny sail, which could be rendered still smaller by means of reef-points. all these things were fitted into their respective places with so keen an eye to economy of space that the arrangement cannot be better described than by the familiar phrase--_multum in parvo_. "we don't use the sails much; we depend chiefly on this," said the hermit, as he seated himself in the front hole and laid the long, heavy, double-bladed paddle on the saddle in front of him. "moses uses a single-blade, partly because it is handier for steering and partly because he has been accustomed to it in his own land. you are at liberty to use which you prefer." "thanks, i will follow the lead of moses, for i also have been accustomed to the single-blade and prefer it--at least while i am one of three. if alone, i should prefer the double-blade." "now, moses, are you ready?" asked the hermit. "all ready, massa." "get in then and shove off. come along, spinkie." the monkey, which all this time had been seated on a rock looking on with an expression of inconsolable sorrow, at once accepted the invitation, and with a lively bound alighted on the deck close to the little mast, which had been set up just in front of nigel, and to which it held on when the motions of the canoe became unsteady. "you need not give yourself any concern about spinkie," said the hermit, as they glided over the still water of the little cove in which the canoe and boat were harboured. "he is quite able to take care of himself." rounding the entrance to the cove and shooting out into the ocean under the influence of van der kemp's powerful strokes, they were soon clear of the land, and proceeded eastward at a rate which seemed unaccountable to our hero, for he had not sufficiently realised the fact that in addition to the unusual physical strength of van der kemp as well as that of moses, to say nothing of his own, the beautiful fish-like adaptation of the canoe to the water, the great length and leverage of the bow-paddle, and the weight of themselves as well as the cargo, gave this canoe considerable advantage over other craft of the kind. about a quarter of an hour later the sun arose in cloudless splendour on a perfectly tranquil sea, lighted up the shores of java, glinted over the mountains of sumatra, and flooded, as with a golden haze, the forests of krakatoa--emulating the volcanic fires in gilding the volumes of smoke that could be seen rolling amid fitful mutterings from perboewatan, until the hermit's home sank from view in the western horizon. chapter eleven. canoeing on the sea--a mysterious night--surprise and sudden flight. at first the voyagers paddled over the glassy sea in almost total silence. nigel was occupied with his own busy thoughts; speculating on the probable end and object of their voyage, and on the character, the mysterious life, and unknown history of the man who sat in front of him wielding so powerfully the great double-bladed paddle. van der kemp himself was, as we have said, naturally quiet and silent, save when roused by a subject that interested him. as for moses, although quite ready at any moment to indulge in friendly intercourse, he seldom initiated a conversation, and spinkie, grasping the mast and leaning against it with his head down, seemed to be either asleep or brooding over his sorrows. only a few words were uttered now and then when nigel asked the name of a point or peak which rose in the distance on either hand. it seemed as if the quiescence of sea and air had fallen like a soft mantle on the party and subdued them into an unusually sluggish frame of mind. they passed through the sunda straits between sumatra and java--not more at the narrowest part than about thirteen miles wide--and, in course of time, found themselves in the great island-studded archipelago beyond. about noon they all seemed to wake up from their lethargic state. van der kemp laid down his paddle, and, looking round, asked nigel if he felt tired. "not in the least," he replied, "but i feel uncommonly hungry, and i have just been wondering how you manage to feed when at sea in so small a craft." "ho! ho!" laughed moses, in guttural tones, "you soon see dat--i 'spose it time for me to get out de grub, massa?" "yes, moses--let's have it." the negro at once laid down his steering paddle and lifted a small square hatch or lid in the deck which was rendered watertight by the same means as the lid in front already described. from the depths thus revealed he extracted a bird of some sort that had been shot and baked the day before. tearing off a leg he retained it, and handed the remainder to nigel. "help you'self, massa nadgel, an' pass 'im forward." without helping himself he passed it on to van der kemp, who drew his knife, sliced off a wing with a mass of breast, and returned the rest. "always help yourself _before_ passing the food in future," said the hermit; "we don't stand on ceremony here." nigel at once fell in with their custom, tore off the remaining drumstick and began. "biskit," said moses, with his mouth full, "an' look out for spinkie." he handed forward a deep tray of the sailor's familiar food, but nigel was too slow to profit by the warning given, for spinkie darted both hands into the tray and had stuffed his mouth and cheeks full almost before a man could wink! the negro would have laughed aloud, but the danger of choking was too great; he therefore laughed internally--an operation which could not be fully understood unless seen. "'splosions of perboewatan," may suggest the thing. sorrow, grief--whatever it was that habitually afflicted that monkey-- disappeared for the time being, while it devoted itself heart and soul to dinner. feelings of a somewhat similar kind animated nigel as he sat leaning back with his mouth full, a biscuit in one hand, and a drumstick in the other, and his eyes resting dreamily on the horizon of the still tranquil sea, while the bright sun blazed upon his already bronzed face. to many men the fierce glare of the equatorial sun might have proved trying, but nigel belonged to the salamander type of humanity and enjoyed the great heat. van der kemp seemed to be similarly moulded, and as for moses, he was in his native element--so was spinkie. strange as it may seem, sea-birds appeared to divine what was going on, for several specimens came circling round the canoe with great outstretched and all but motionless wings, and with solemn sidelong glances of hope which van der kemp evidently could not resist, for he flung them scraps of his allowance from time to time. "if you have plenty of provisions on board, i should like to do that too," said nigel. "do it," returned the hermit. "we have plenty of food for some days, and our guns can at any time replenish the store. i like to feed these creatures," he added, "they give themselves over so thoroughly to the enjoyment of the moment, and _seem_ to be grateful. whether they are so or not, of course, is matter of dispute. cynics will tell us that they only come to us and fawn upon us because of the memory of past favours and the hope of more to come. i don't agree with them." "neither do i," said nigel, warmly. "any man who has ever had to do with dogs knows full well that gratitude is a strong element of their nature. and it seems to me that the speaking eyes of spinkie, to whom i have just given a bit of biscuit, tell of a similar spirit." as he spoke, nigel was conveying another piece of biscuit to his own mouth, when a small brown hand flashed before him, and the morsel, in the twinkling of an eye, was transferred to the monkey's already swollen cheek--whereat moses again became suddenly "'splosive" and red, as well as black in the face, for his capacious mouth was inordinately full as usual. clear water, from one of the casks, and poured into a tin mug, washed down their cold collation, and then, refreshed and reinvigorated, the trio resumed their paddles, which were not again laid down till the sun was descending towards the western horizon. by that time they were not far from a small wooded islet near the coast of java, on which van der kemp resolved to spend the night. during the day they had passed at some distance many boats and _prahus_ and other native vessels, the crews of which ceased to row for a few moments, and gazed with curiosity at the strange craft which glided along so swiftly, and seemed to them little more than a long plank on the water, but these took no further notice of our voyagers. they also passed several ships--part of that constant stream of vessels which pass westward through those straits laden with the valuable teas and rich silks of china and japan. in some cases a cheer of recognition, as being an exceptional style of craft, was accorded them, to which the hermit replied with a wave of the hand--moses and nigel with an answering cheer. there is something very pleasant in the rest which follows a day of hard and healthful toil. our maker has so ordained it as well as stated it, for is it not written, "the sleep of the labouring man is sweet"? and our travellers experienced the truth of the statement that night in very romantic circumstances. the small rocky islet, not more than a few hundred yards in diameter, which they now approached, had several sheltered sandy bays on its shore, which were convenient for landing. the centre was clothed with palm-trees and underwood, so that fuel could be procured, and cocoa-nuts. "sometimes," said the hermit, while he stooped to arrange the fire, after the canoe and cargo had been carried to their camping-place at the edge of the bushes,--"sometimes it is necessary to keep concealed while travelling in these regions, and i carry a little spirit-lamp which enables me to heat a cup of tea or coffee without making a dangerous blaze; but here there is little risk in kindling a fire." "i should not have thought there was any risk at all in these peaceful times," said nigel, as he unstrapped his blanket and spread it on the ground under an overhanging bush. "there are no peaceful times among pirates," returned the hermit; "and some of the traders in this archipelago are little better than pirates." "where i puts your bed, massa?" asked moses, turning his huge eyes on his master. "there--under the bush, beside nigel." "an' where would _you_ like to sleep, massa spinkie?" added the negro, with a low obeisance to the monkey, which sat on the top of what seemed to be its favourite seat--a water-cask. spinkie treated the question with calm contempt, turned his head languidly to one side, and scratched himself. "unpurliteness is your k'racter from skin to marrow, you son of a insolent mother!" said moses, shaking his fist, whereat spinkie, promptly making an o of his mouth, looked fierce. the sagacious creature remained where he was till after supper, which consisted of another roast fowl--hot this time--and ship's-biscuit washed down with coffee. of course spinkie's portion consisted only of the biscuit with a few scraps of cocoa-nut. having received it he quietly retired to his native wilds, with the intention of sleeping there, according to custom, till morning; but his repose was destined to be broken, as we shall see. after supper, the hermit, stretching himself on his blanket, filled an enormous meerschaum, and began to smoke. the negro, rolling up a little tobacco in tissue paper, sat down, tailor-wise, and followed his master's example, while our hero--who did not smoke--lay between them, and gazed contemplatively over the fire at the calm dark sea beyond, enjoying the aroma of his coffee. "from what you have told me of your former trading expeditions," said nigel, looking at his friend, "you must have seen a good deal of this archipelago before you took--excuse me--to the hermit life." "ay--a good deal." "have you ever travelled in the interior of the larger islands?" asked nigel, in the hope of drawing from him some account of his experiences with wild beasts or wild men--he did not care which, so long as they were wild! "yes, in all of them," returned the hermit, curtly, for he was not fond of talking about himself. "i suppose the larger islands are densely wooded?" continued nigel interrogatively. "they are, very." "but the wood is not of much value, i fancy, in the way of trade," pursued our hero, adopting another line of attack which proved successful, for van der kemp turned his eyes on him with a look of surprise that almost forced him to laugh. "not of much value in the way of trade!" he repeated--"forgive me, if i express surprise that you seem to know so little about us--but, after all, the world is large, and one cannot become deeply versed in everything." having uttered this truism, the hermit resumed his meerschaum and continued to gaze thoughtfully at the embers of the fire. he remained so long silent that nigel began to despair, but thought he would try him once again on the same lines. "i suppose," he said in a careless way, "that none of the islands are big enough to contain many of the larger wild animals." "my friend," returned van der kemp, with a smile of urbanity, as he refilled his pipe, "it is evident that you do not know much about our archipelago. borneo, to the woods and wild animals of which i hope ere long to introduce you, is so large that if you were to put your british islands, including ireland, down on it they would be engulfed and surrounded by a sea of forests. new guinea is, perhaps, larger than borneo. sumatra is only a little smaller. france is not so large as some of our islands. java, luzon, and celebes are each about equal in size to ireland. eighteen more islands are, on the average, as large as jamaica, more than a hundred are as large as the isle of wight, and the smaller isles and islets are innumerable. in short, our archipelago is comparable with any of the primary divisions of the globe, being full miles in length from east to west and about , in breadth from north to south, and would in extent more than cover the whole of europe." it was evident to nigel that he had at length succeeded in opening the flood-gates. the hermit paused for a few moments and puffed at the meerschaum, while moses glared at his master with absorbed interest, and pulled at the cigarette with such oblivious vigour that he drew it into his mouth at last, spat it out, and prepared another. nigel sat quite silent and waited for more. "as to trade," continued van der kemp, resuming his discourse in a lower tone, "why, of gold--the great representative of wealth--we export from sumatra alone over , ounces annually, and among other gold regions we have a mount ophir in the malay peninsula from which there is a considerable annual export." continuing his discourse, van der kemp told a great deal more about the products of these prolific islands with considerable enthusiasm--as one who somewhat resented the underrating of his native land. "were you born in this region, van der kemp?" asked nigel, during a brief pause. "i was--in java. my father, as my name tells, was of dutch descent. my mother was irish. both are dead." he stopped. the fire that had been aroused seemed to die down, and he continued to smoke with the sad absent look which was peculiar to him. "and what about large game?" asked nigel, anxious to stir up his friend's enthusiasm again, but the hermit had sunk back into his usual condition of gentle dreaminess, and made no answer till the question had been repeated. "pardon me," he said, "i was dreaming of the days that are gone. ah! nigel; you are yet too young to understand the feelings of the old--the sad memories of happy years that can never return: of voices that are hushed for ever. no one can _know_ till he has _felt_!" "but you are not old," said nigel, wishing to turn the hermit's mind from a subject on which it seemed to dwell too constantly. "not in years," he returned; "but old, _very_ old in experience, and-- stay, what was it that you were asking about? ah, the big game. well, we have plenty of that in some of the larger of the islands; we have the elephant, the rhinoceros, the tiger, the puma, that great man-monkey the orang-utan, or, as it is called here, the mias, besides wild pigs, deer, and innumerable smaller animals and birds--" the hermit stopped abruptly and sat motionless, with his head bent on one side, like one who listens intently. such an action is always infectious. nigel and the negro also listened, but heard nothing. by that time the fire had died down, and, not being required for warmth, had not been replenished. the faint light of the coming moon, which, however, was not yet above the horizon, only seemed to render darkness visible, so that the figure of moses was quite lost in the shadow of the bush behind him, though the whites of his solemn eyes appeared like two glow-worms. "do you hear anything?" asked nigel in a low tone. "oars," answered the hermit. "i hear 'im, massa," whispered the negro, "but das not su'prisin'-- plenty boats about." "this boat approaches the island, and i can tell by the sound that it is a large _prahu_. if it touches here it will be for the purpose of spending the night, and malay boatmen are not always agreeable neighbours. however, it is not likely they will ramble far from where they land, so we may escape observation if we keep quiet." as he spoke he emptied the remains of the coffee on the dying fire and effectually put it out. meanwhile the sound of oars had become quite distinct, and, as had been anticipated, the crew ran their boat into one of the sandy bays and leaped ashore with a good deal of shouting and noise. fortunately they had landed on the opposite side of the islet, and as the bush on it was very dense there was not much probability of any one crossing over. our voyagers therefore lay close, resolving to be off in the morning before the unwelcome visitors were stirring. as the three lay there wrapped in their blankets and gazing contemplatively at the now risen moon, voices were heard as if of men approaching. it was soon found that two of the strangers had sauntered round by the beach and were slowly drawing near the encampment. nigel observed that the hermit had raised himself on one elbow and seemed to be again listening intently. the two men halted on reaching the top of the ridges of rock which formed one side of the little bay, and their voices became audible though too far distant to admit of words being distinguishable. at the same time their forms were clearly defined against the sky. nigel glanced at van der kemp and was startled by the change that had come over him. the moonbeams, which had by that time risen above some intervening shrubs, shone full on him and showed that his usually quiet gentle countenance was deadly pale and transformed by a frown of almost tiger-like ferocity. so strange and unaccountable did this seem to our hero that he lay quite still, as if spell-bound. nor did his companions move until the strangers, having finished their talk, turned to retrace their steps and finally disappeared. then van der kemp rose with a sigh of relief. the negro and nigel also sprang up. "what's wrong, massa?" asked moses, in much anxiety. "nothing, nothing," said the hermit hurriedly. "i must cross over to see these fellows." "all right, massa. i go wid you." "no, i go alone." "not widout arms?" exclaimed the negro, laying his hand on his master's shoulder. "yes, without arms!" as he spoke he drew the long knife that usually hung at his girdle and flung it down. "now attend, both of you," he added, with sudden and almost threatening earnestness. "do not on any account follow me. i am quite able to take care of myself." next moment he glided into the bushes and was gone. "can you guess what is the matter with him?" asked nigel, turning to his companion with a perplexed look. "not more nor de man ob de moon. i nebber saw'd 'im like dat before. i t'ink he's go mad! i tell you what--i'll foller him wid a rifle an' knife and two revolvers." "you'll do nothing of the sort," said nigel, laying hold of the negro's wrist with a grip of iron; "when a man like van der kemp gives an order it's the duty of inferior men like you and me strictly to obey." "well--p'raps you're right, nadgel," returned moses calmly. "if you wasn't, i'd knock you into de middle ob nixt week for takin' a grip o' me like dat." "you'll wish yourself into the middle of next fortnight if you disobey orders," returned our hero, tightening the grip. moses threw back his head, opened his cavern, and laughed silently; at the same time he twisted his arm free with a sudden wrench. "you's awrful strong, nadgel, but you don't quite come up to niggers! howse'ber, you's right. i'll obey orders; neberdeless i'll get ready for action." so saying, the negro extracted from the canoe several revolvers, two of which he handed to nigel, two he thrust into his own belt, and two he laid handy for "massa" when he should return. "now, if you're smart at arit'metic, you'll see dat six time six am t'irty-six, and two double guns das forty-forty dead men's more'n enuff--besides de knives." moses had barely finished these deadly preparations when van der kemp returned as quietly as he had gone. his face was still fierce and haggard, and his manner hurried though quite decided. "i have seen him," he said, in a low voice. "seen who?" asked nigel. "him whom i had hoped and prayed never more to see. my enemy! come, quick, we must leave at once, and without attracting their notice." he gave his comrades no time to put further questions, but laid hold of one end of the canoe; moses took the other end and it was launched in a few seconds, while nigel carried down such part of the lading as had been taken out. five minutes sufficed to put all on board, and that space of time was also sufficient to enable spinkie to observe from his retreat in the bushes that a departure was about to take place; he therefore made for the shore with all speed and bounded to his accustomed place beside the mast. taking their places they pushed off so softly that they might well have been taken for phantoms. a cloud conveniently hid the moon at the time. each man plied his paddle with noiseless but powerful stroke, and long before the cloud uncovered the face of the queen of night they were shooting far away over the tranquil sea. chapter twelve. weathering a storm in the open sea. in profound silence they continued to paddle until there was no chance of their being seen by the party on the islet. then van der kemp rested his paddle in front of him and looked slowly round the horizon and up at the sky as if studying the weather. nigel longed to ask him more about the men they had seen, and of this "enemy" whom he had mentioned, but there was that in the hermit's grave look which forbade questioning, and indeed nigel now knew from experience that it would be useless to press him to speak on any subject in regard to which he chose to be reticent. "i don't like the look of the sky," he said at last. "we are going to have a squall, i fear." "had we not better run for the nearest land?" said nigel, who, although not yet experienced in the signs of the weather in those equatorial regions, had quite enough of knowledge to perceive that bad weather of some sort was probably approaching. "the nearest island is a good way off," returned the hermit, "and we might miss it in the dark, for daylight won't help us yet awhile. no, we will continue our course and accept what god sends." this remark seemed to our hero to savour of unreasoning contempt of danger, for the facing of a tropical squall in such an eggshell appeared to him the height of folly. he ventured to reply, therefore, in a tone of remonstrance-- "god sends us the capacity to appreciate danger, van der kemp, and the power to take precautions." "he does, nigel--therefore i intend to use both the capacity and the power." there was a tone of finality in this speech which effectually sealed nigel's lips, and, in truth, his ever-increasing trust in the wisdom, power, and resource of his friend indisposed him to further remark. the night had by this time become intensely dark, for a bank of black cloud had crept slowly over the sky and blotted out the moon. this cloud extended itself slowly, obliterating, ere long, most of the stars also, so that it was scarcely possible to distinguish any object more than a yard or two in advance of them. the dead calm, however, continued unbroken, and the few of heaven's lights which still glimmered through the obscurity above were clearly reflected in the great black mirror below. only the faint gleam of krakatoa's threatening fires was visible on the horizon, while the occasional boom of its artillery sounded in their ears. it was impossible for any inexperienced man, however courageous, to avoid feelings of awe, almost amounting to dread, in the circumstances, and nigel--as he tried to penetrate the darkness around him and glanced at the narrow craft in which he sat and over the sides of which he could dip both hands at once into the sea--might be excused for wishing, with all his heart, that he were safely on shore, or on the deck of his father's brig. his feelings were by no means relieved when van der kemp said, in a low soliloquising tone-- "the steamers will constitute our chief danger to-night. they come on with such a rush that it is not easy to make out how they are steering, so as to get out of their way in time." "but should we not hear them coming a long way off?" asked nigel. "ay. it is not during a calm like this that we run risk, but when the gale begins to blow we cannot hear, and shall not, perhaps, see very well." as he spoke the hermit lifted the covering of the fore-hatch and took out a small sail which he asked nigel to pass aft to the negro. "close-reef it, moses; we shall make use of the wind as long as possible. after that we will lay-to." "all right, massa," said the negro, in the same cheerful free-and-easy tone in which he was wont to express his willingness to obey orders whether trifling or important. "don' forgit spinkie, massa." "you may be sure i won't do that," replied the hermit. "come along, monkey!" evidently van der kemp had trained his dumb companion as thoroughly to prompt obedience as his black follower, for the little creature instantly bounded from its place by the mast on to the shoulder of its master, who bade it go into the place from which he had just extracted the sail. nigel could not see this--not only because of the darkness, but because of the intervention of the hermit's bulky person, but he understood what had taken place by the remark-- "that's a good little fellow. keep your head down, now, while i shut you in!" from the same place van der kemp had drawn a small triangular foresail, which he proceeded to attach to the bow of the canoe--running its point out by means of tackle laid along the deck--while moses was busy reefing the mainsail. from the same repository were extracted three waterproof coats, which, when put on by the canoemen, the tails thrust below deck, and the aprons drawn over them and belted round their waists, protected their persons almost completely from water. "now, nigel," said the hermit, "unship the mast, reeve the halyard of this foresail through the top and then re-ship it. moses will give you the mainsail when ready, and you can hook the halyards on to it. the thing is too simple to require explanation to a sailor. i attend to the foresail and moses manages the mainsheet, but you have to mind the halyards of both, which, as you would see if it were light enough, run down alongside the mast. all i ask you to remember is to be smart in obeying orders, for squalls are sometimes very sudden here--but i doubt not that such a caution is needless." "i'll do my best," said nigel. by this time a slight puff of air had ruffled the sea, thereby intensifying, if possible, the blackness which already prevailed. the tiny sails caught the puff, causing the canoe to lean slightly over, and glide with a rippling sound through the water, while moses steered by means of his paddle. "you have put spinkie down below, i think," said nigel, who had been struck more than once with the hermit's extreme tenderness and care of the little creature. "yes, to prevent it from being washed overboard. i nearly lost the poor little thing once or twice, and now when we are likely to be caught in bad weather i put him below." "is he not apt to be suffocated?" asked nigel. "with everything made so tight to prevent water getting into the canoe, you necessarily prevent air entering also." "i see you have a mechanical turn of mind," returned the hermit. "you are right. yet in so large a canoe the air would last a considerable time to satisfy a monkey. nevertheless, i have made provision for that. there is a short tube alongside the mast, and fixed to it, which runs a little below the deck and rises a foot above it so as to be well above the wash of most waves, and in the deck near the stern there is a small hole with a cap fitted so as to turn the water but admit the air. thus free circulation of air is established below deck." suddenly a hissing sound was heard to windward. "look out, moses," said van der kemp. "there it comes. let go the sheet. keep good hold of your paddle, nigel." the warning was by no means unnecessary, for as the canoe's head was turned to meet the blast, a hissing sheet of white water swept right over the tiny craft, completely submerging it, insomuch that the three men appeared to be sitting more than waist-deep in the water. "lower the mainsail!" shouted the hermit, for the noise of wind and sea had become deafening. nigel obeyed and held on to the flapping sheet. the hermit had at the same moment let go the foresail, the flapping of which he controlled by a rope-tackle arranged for the purpose. he then grasped his single-blade paddle and aided moses in keeping her head to wind and sea. for a few minutes this was all that could be done. then the first violence of the squall passed off, allowing the deck of the little craft to appear above the tormented water. soon the waves began to rise. the mere keeping of the canoe's head to wind required all the attention of both master and man, while nigel sat waiting for orders and looking on with mingled feelings of surprise and curiosity. of course they were all three wet to the skin, for the water had got up their sleeves and down their necks; but, being warm, that mattered little, and the oiled aprons before mentioned, being securely fastened round their waists, effectually prevented any of it from getting below save the little that passed through the thickness of their own garments. no word was spoken for at least a quarter of an hour, during which time, although they rose buoyantly on the water, the waves washed continually over the low-lying deck. as this deck was flush with the gunwale, or rather, had no gunwale at all, the water ran off it as it does off a whale's back. then there came a momentary lull. "now, moses--'bout ship!" shouted van der kemp. "stand by, nigel!" "ay, ay, sir." although the canoe was long--and therefore unfitted to turn quickly--the powerful strokes of the two paddles in what may be called counteracting-harmony brought the little craft right round with her stern to the waves. "hoist away, nigel! we must run right before it now." up went the mainsail, the tiny foresail bulged out at the same moment, and away they went like the driving foam, appearing almost to leap from wave to wave. all sense of danger was now overwhelmed in nigel's mind by that feeling of excitement and wild delight which accompanies some kinds of rapid motion. this was, if possible, intensified by the crashing thunder which now burst forth and the vivid lightning which began to play, revealing from time to time the tumultuous turmoil as if in clearest moonlight, only to plunge it again in still blacker night. by degrees the gale increased in fury, and it soon became evident that neither sails nor cordage could long withstand the strain to which they were subjected. "a'most too much, massa," said the negro in a suggestive shout. "right, moses," returned his master. "i was just thinking we must risk it." "risk what? i wonder," thought nigel. he had not long to wait for an answer to his thought. "down wi' the mainsail," was quickly followed by the lowering of the foresail until not more than a mere corner was shown, merely to keep the canoe end-on to the seas. soon even this was lowered, and van der kemp used his double-blade paddle to keep them in position, at the same time telling nigel to unship the mast. "and plug the hole with that," he added, handing him a bit of wood which exactly fitted the hole in the deck. watching for another lull in the blast, the hermit at last gave the order, and round they came as before, head to wind, but not quite so easily, and nigel felt that they had narrowly escaped overturning in the operation. "keep her so, moses. you can help with your paddle, nigel, while i get ready our anchor." "anchor!" exclaimed our hero in amazement--obeying orders, however, at the same moment. the hermit either did not hear the exclamation or did not care to notice it. he quickly collected the mast and sails, with a couple of boat-hooks and all the paddles excepting two single ones. these he bound together by means of the sheets and halyards, attached the whole to a hawser,--one end of which passed through an iron ring at the bow-- and tossed it into the sea--paying out the hawser rapidly at the same time so as to put a few yards between them and their floating anchor--if it may be so called--in the lee of which they prepared to ride out the gale. it was well that they had taken the precaution to put on their waterproofs before the gale began, because, while turned head to wind every breaking wave swept right over their heads, and even now while under the lee of the floating anchor they were for some time almost continually overwhelmed by thick spray. being, however, set free from the necessity of keeping their tiny craft in position, they all bowed their heads on the deck, sheltered their faces in their hands and awaited the end! whilst in this attitude--so like to that of prayer--nigel almost naturally thought of him who holds the water in the hollow of his hand, and lifted his soul to god; for, amid the roaring of the gale, the flashes of lightning, the appalling thunder, the feeling that he was in reality all but under the waves and the knowledge that the proverbial plank between him and death was of the very thinnest description, a sensation of helplessness and of dependence on the almighty, such as he had never before experienced, crept over him. what the thoughts of the hermit were he could not tell, for that strange man seldom spoke about himself; but moses was not so reticent, for he afterwards remarked that he had often been caught by gales while in the canoe, and had been attached for hours to their floating anchor, but that "dat was out ob sight de wust bust ob wedder dey'd had since dey come to lib at krakatoa, an' he had bery nigh giben up in despair!" the use of the floating breakwater was to meet the full force of the seas and break them just before they reached the canoe. in spite of this some of them were so tremendous that, broken though they were, the swirling foam completely buried the craft for a second or two, but the sharp bow cut its way through, and the water poured off the deck and off the stooping figures like rain from a duck's back. of course a good deal got in at their necks, sleeves, and other small openings, and wet them considerably, but that, as moses remarked, "was not'ing to speak ob." thus they lay tossing in the midst of the raging foam for several hours. now and then each would raise his head a little to see that the rope held fast, but was glad to lower it again. they hardly knew when day broke. it was so slow in coming, and so gloomy and dark when it did come, that the glare of the lightning-flash seemed more cheerful. it may be easily believed that there was no conversation during those hours of elemental strife, though the thoughts of each were busy enough. at last the thunder ceased, or, rather, retired as if in growling defiance of the world which it had failed to destroy. then the sky began to lighten a little, and although the wind did not materially abate in force it became more steady and equal. before noon, however, it had subsided so much that moses suggested the propriety of continuing the voyage. to this van der kemp agreed, and the floating anchor was hauled in; the large paddle was resumed by the hermit, and the dangerous process of turning the canoe was successfully accomplished. when the mast was again set up and the close-reefed main and foresails were hoisted, the light craft bounded away once more before the wind like a fleck of foam. then a gleam of sunshine forced its way through the driving clouds, and painted a spot of emerald green on the heaving sea. soon after that van der kemp opened the lid, or hatch, of the fore-hold, and spinkie, jumping out with alacrity, took possession of his usual seat beside the mast, to which he clung with affectionate tenacity. gradually the wind went down. reef after reef of the two sails was shaken out, and for several hours thereafter our travellers sped merrily on, plunging into the troughs and cutting through the crests of the stormy sea. chapter thirteen. friends are met with, also pirates, and a life-or-death paddle ensues. in physics, as in morals, a storm is frequently the precursor of a dead calm. much to the monkey's joy, to say nothing of the men, the sun ere long asserted its equatorial power, and, clearing away the clouds, allowed the celestial blue to smile on the turmoil below. the first result of that smile was that the wind retired to its secret chambers, leaving the ships of men to flap their idle sails. then the ocean ceased to fume, though its agitated bosom still continued for some time to heave. gradually the swell went down and soon the unruffled surface reflected a dimpling smile to the sky. when this happy stage had been reached our voyagers lowered and stowed the canoe-sails, and continued to advance under paddles. "we get along wonderfully fast, van der kemp," said nigel, while resting after a pretty long spell; "but it seems to me, nevertheless, that we shall take a considerable time to reach borneo at this rate, seeing that it must be over two hundred miles away, and if we have much bad weather or contrary wind, we shan't be able to reach it for weeks--if at all." "i have been thrown somewhat out of my reckoning," returned the hermit, "by having to fly from the party on the islet, where i meant to remain till a steamer, owned by a friend of mine, should pass and pick us up, canoe and all. the steamer is a short-voyage craft, and usually so punctual that i can count on it to a day. but it may have passed us in the gale. if so, i shall take advantage of the first vessel that will agree to lend us a hand." "how!--do you get them to tow you?" "nay, that were impossible. a jerk from the tow-rope of a steamer at full speed would tear us asunder. have you observed these two strong ropes running all round our gunwale, and the bridles across with ring-bolts in them?" "i have, and did not ask their use, as i thought they were merely meant to strengthen the canoe." "so they are," continued the hermit, "but they have other uses besides--" "massa," cried moses, at this point. "you'll 'scuse me for 'truptin' you, but it's my opinion dat spinkie's sufferin' jus' now from a empty stummik!" the hermit smiled and nigel laughed. laying down his paddle the former said-- "i understand, moses. that speech means that you are suffering from the same complaint. well--get out the biscuit." "jus' de way ob de wurld," muttered the negro with a bland smile. "if a poor man obsarves an feels for de sorrows ob anoder, he allers gits credit for t'inkin' ob his-self. neber mind, i's used to it!" evidently the unjust insinuation did not weigh heavily on the negro's spirit, for he soon began to eat with the appetite of a healthy alligator. while he was thus engaged, he chanced to raise his eyes towards the south-western horizon, and there saw something which caused him to splutter, for his mouth was too full to speak, but his speaking eyes and pointing finger caused his companions to turn their faces quickly to the quarter indicated. "a steamer!" exclaimed the hermit and nigel in the same breath. the vessel in question was coming straight towards them, and a very short time enabled van der kemp to recognise with satisfaction the steamer owned by his friend. "look here, run that to the mast-head," said van der kemp, handing a red flag to nigel. "we lie so low in the water that they might pass quite close without observing us if we showed no signal." an immediate, though slight, change in the course of the steamer showed that the signal had been seen. hereupon the hermit and moses performed an operation on the canoe which still farther aroused nigel's surprise and curiosity. he resolved to ask no questions, however, but to await the issue of events. from the marvellous hold of the canoe, which seemed to be a magazine for the supply of every human need, moses drew a short but strong rope or cable, with a ring in the middle of it, and a hook at each end. he passed one end along to his master who hooked it to the bridle-rope at the bow before referred to. the other end was hooked to the bridle in the stern, so that the ring in the centre came close to nigel's elbow. this arrangement had barely been completed when the steamer was within hail, but no hail was given, for the captain knew what was expected of him. he reduced speed as the vessel approached the canoe, and finally came almost to a stop as he ranged alongside. "what cheer, van der kemp? d'ye want a lift to-day?" shouted the skipper, looking over the side. a nod and a wave of the hand was the hermit's reply. "heave a rope, boys--bow and stern--and lower away the tackle," was the skipper's order. a coil was flung to van der kemp, who deftly caught it and held on tight. another was flung to moses, who also caught it and held on-- slack. at the same moment, nigel saw a large block with a hook attached descending towards his head. "catch it, nigel, and hook it to the ring at your elbow," said the hermit. our hero obeyed, still in surprise, though a glimmer of what was to follow began to dawn. "haul away!" shouted the skipper, and next moment the canoe was swinging in the air, kept in position by the lines in the hands of van der kemp and moses. at the same time another order was given, and the steamer went ahead full speed. it was all so suddenly done, and seemed such a reckless proceeding, that nigel found himself on the steamer's deck, with the canoe reposing beside him, before he had recovered from his surprise sufficiently to acknowledge in suitable terms the welcome greeting of the hospitable skipper. "you see, nigel," said van der kemp that night, as the two friends paced the deck together after supper, "i have other means, besides paddles and sails, of getting quickly about in the java seas. many of the traders and skippers here know me, and give me a lift in this way when i require it." "very kind of them, and very convenient," returned nigel. he felt inclined to add: "but why all this moving about?" for it was quite evident that trade was not the hermit's object, but the question, as usual, died on his lips, and he somewhat suddenly changed the subject. "d'ye know, van der kemp, that i feel as if i must have seen you somewhere or other before now, for your features seem strangely familiar to me. have you ever been in england?" "never. as i have told you, i was born in java, and was educated in hong kong at an english school. but a fancy of this sort is not very uncommon. i myself once met a perfect stranger who bore so strong a resemblance to an old friend, that i spoke to him as such, and only found out from his voice that i was mistaken." the captain of the steamer came on deck at that moment and cut short the conversation. "are you engaged, van der kemp?" he asked. "no--i am at your service." "come below then, i want to have a talk with you." thus left alone, and overhearing a loud burst of laughter at the fore part of the steamer, nigel went forward to see what was going on. he found a group of sailors round his comrade moses, apparently engaged in good-natured "chaff." "come, now, blackey," said one; "be a good fellow for once in your life an' tell us what makes your master live on a desert island like robinson crusoe, an' go about the ocean in a canoe." "look 'ere now, whitey," returned moses, "what you take me for?" "a nigger, of course." "ob course, an' you're right for once, which is such an unusual t'ing dat i 'dvise you go an' ax de cappen to make a note ob it in de log. i's a nigger, an a nigger's so much more 'cute dan a white man dat you shouldn't ought to expect him to blab his massa's secrets." "right you are, moses. come, then, if you won't reveal secrets, give us a song." "couldn't t'ink ob such a t'ing," said the negro, with a solemn, remonstrant shake of the head. "why not?" "'cause i neber sing a song widout a moral, an' i don't like to hurt your feelin's by singin' a moral dat would be sure to waken up _some_ o' your consciences." "never mind that, darkey. our consciences are pretty tough. heave ahead." "but dere's a chorus," said moses, looking round doubtfully. "what o' that? we'll do our best with it--if it ain't too difficult." "oh, it's not diffikilt, but if de lazy fellers among you sings de chorus dey'll be singin' lies, an' i don't 'zackly like to help men to tell lies. howseber, here goes. it begins wid de chorus so's you may know it afore you has to sing it." so saying, moses struck two fingers on the capstan after the manner of a tuning-fork, and, holding them gravely to his ear as if to get the right pitch, began in a really fine manly voice to chant the following ditty:-- "go to work." oh when de sun am shinin' bright, and eberyt'ing am fair, clap on de steam an' go to work, an' take your proper share. de wurld hab got to go ahead, an' dem what's young and strong mus' do deir best, wid all de rest, to roll de wurld along. de lazy man does all he can to stop its whirlin' round. if he was king he'd loaf an' sing--and guzzle, i'll be bound, he always shirk de hardest work, an' t'ink he's awful clebbar, but boder his head to earn his bread, oh! no, he'll nebber, nebber. _chorus_--oh when de sun, etcetera. de selfish man would rader dan put out his hand to work, let women toil, an' sweat and moil--as wicked as de turk. de cream ob eberyt'ing he wants, let oders hab de skim; in fact de wurld and all it holds was only made for him. _chorus_--oh when de sun, etcetera. so keep de ball a-rollin', boys, an' each one do his best to make de wurld a happy one--for dat's how man is blest. do unto oders all around de t'ing what's good and true, an' oders, 'turning tit for tat, will do do same to you. _chorus_--oh when de sun, etcetera. the sailors, who were evidently much pleased, took up the chorus moderately at the second verse, came out strong at the third, and sang with such genuine fervour at the last that it was quite evident, as moses remarked, there was not a lazy man amongst them--at least, if they all sang conscientiously! the weather improved every hour, and after a fine run of about twenty-four hours over that part of the malay sea, our three voyagers were lowered over the steamer's side in their canoe when within sight of the great island of borneo. "i'm sorry," said the captain at parting, "that our courses diverge here, for i would gladly have had your company a little longer. good-bye. i hope we'll come across you some other time when i'm in these parts." "thanks--thanks, my friend," replied van der kemp, with a warm grip of the hand, and a touch of pathos in his tones. "i trust that we shall meet again. you have done me good service by shortening my voyage considerably.--farewell." "i say, moses," shouted one of the seamen, as he looked down on the tiny canoe while they were pushing off. "hallo?" "keep your heart up, for--we'll try to `do to oders all around de t'ing what's good an' true!'" "das de way, boy--`an' oders, 'turning tit for tat, will do de same to you!'" he yelled rather than sang this at the top of his tuneful voice, and waved his hand as the sharp craft shot away over the sea. fortunately the sea was calm, for it was growing dark when they reached the shores of borneo and entered the mouth of a small stream, up which they proceeded to paddle. the banks of the stream were clothed with mangrove trees. we have said the banks, but in truth the mouth of that river had no distinguishable banks at all, for it is the nature of the mangrove to grow in the water--using its roots as legs with which, as it were, to wade away from shore. when darkness fell suddenly on the landscape, as it is prone to do in tropical regions, the gnarled roots of those mangroves assumed the appearance of twining snakes in nigel's eyes. possessing a strongly imaginative mind he could with difficulty resist the belief that he saw them moving slimily about in the black water, and, in the dim mysterious light, tree-stems and other objects assumed the appearance of hideous living forms, so that he was enabled to indulge the uncomfortable fancy that they were traversing some terrestrial styx into one of dante's regions of horror. in some respects this was not altogether a fancy, for they were unwittingly drawing near to a band of human beings whose purposes, if fully carried out, would render the earth little better than a hell to many of their countrymen. it is pretty well-known that there is a class of men in borneo called head hunters. these men hold the extraordinary and gruesome opinion that a youth has not attained to respectable manhood until he has taken the life of some human being. there are two distinct classes of dyaks--those who inhabit the hills and those who dwell on the sea-coast. it is the latter who recruit the ranks of the pirates of those eastern seas, and it was to the camp of a band of such villains that our adventurers were, as already said, unwittingly drawing near. they came upon them at a bend of the dark river beyond which point the mangroves gave place to other trees--but what sort of trees they were it was scarcely light enough to make out very distinctly, except in the case of the particular tree in front of which the dyaks were encamped, the roots of which were strongly illuminated by their camp fire. we say _roots_ advisedly, for this singular and gigantic tree started its branches from a complexity of aerial roots which themselves formed a pyramid some sixty feet high, before the branches proper of the tree began. if our voyagers had used oars the sharp ears of the pirates would have instantly detected them. as it was, the softly moving paddles and the sharp cutwater of the canoe made no noise whatever. the instant that van der kemp, from his position in the bow, observed the camp, he dipped his paddle deep, and noiselessly backed water. there was no need to give any signal to his servant. such a thorough understanding existed between them that the mere action of the hermit was sufficient to induce the negro to support him by a similar movement on the opposite side, and the canoe glided as quickly backward as it had previously advanced. when under the deep shadow of the bank moses thrust the canoe close in, and his master, laying hold of the bushes, held fast and made a sign to him to land and reconnoitre. creeping forward to an opening in the bushes close at hand, moses peeped through. then he turned and made facial signals of a kind so complicated that he could not be understood, as nothing was visible save the flashing of his teeth and eyes. van der kemp therefore recalled him by a sign, and, stepping ashore, whispered nigel to land. another minute and the three travellers stood on the bank with their heads close together. "wait here for me," said the hermit, in the lowest possible whisper. "i will go and see who they are." "strange," said nigel, when he was gone; "strange that in so short a time your master should twice have to stalk strangers in this way. history repeats itself, they say. it appears to do so rather fast in these regions! does he not run a very great risk of being discovered?" "not de smallest," replied the negro, with as much emphasis as was possible in a whisper. "massa hab ride wid de vaquieros ob ameriky an' hunt wid de injuns on de rockies. no more fear ob deir ketchin' him dan ob ketchin' a streak o' lightnin'. he come back bery soon wid all de news." moses was a true prophet. within half-an-hour van der kemp returned as noiselessly as he had gone. he did not keep them long in uncertainty. "i have heard enough," he whispered, "to assure me that a plot, of which i had already heard a rumour, has nearly been laid. we fell in with the chief plotters on the islet the other night; the band here is in connection with them and awaits their arrival before carrying out their dark designs. there is nothing very mysterious about it. one tribe plotting to attack another--that is all; but as a friend of mine dwells just now with the tribe to be secretly attacked, it behoves me to do what i can to save him. i am perplexed, however. it would seem sometimes as if we were left in perplexity for wise purposes which are beyond our knowledge." "perhaps to test our willingness to _do right_," suggested nigel. "i know not," returned the hermit, as if musing, but never raising his voice above the softest whisper. "my difficulty lies here; i _must_ go forward to save the life of my friend. i must _not_ leave you at the mouth of a mangrove river to die or be captured by pirates, and yet i have no right to ask you to risk your life on my account!" "you may dismiss your perplexities then," said nigel, promptly, "for i decline to be left to die here or to be caught by pirates, and i am particularly anxious to assist you in rescuing your friend. besides, am i not your hired servant?" "the risk we run is only at the beginning," said van der kemp. "if we succeed in passing the dyaks unseen all will be well. if they see us, they will give chase, and our lives, under god, will depend on the strength of our arms, for i am known to them and have thwarted their plans before now. if they catch us, death will be our certain doom. are you prepared?" "ready!" whispered nigel. without another word the hermit took his place in the bow of the canoe. moses stepped into the stern, and our hero sat down in the middle. before pushing off, the hermit drew a revolver and a cutlass from his store-room in the bow and handed them to nigel, who thrust the first into his belt and fastened the other to the deck by means of a strap fixed there on purpose to prevent its being rolled or swept off. this contrivance, as well as all the other appliances in the canoe, had previously been pointed out and explained to him. the hermit and negro having armed themselves in similar way, let go the bushes which held them close to the bank and floated out into the stream. they let the canoe drift down a short way so as to be well concealed by the bend in the river and a mass of bushes. then they slowly paddled over to the opposite side, and commenced to creep up as close to the bank as possible, under the deep shadow of overhanging trees, and so noiselessly that they appeared in the darkness like a passing phantom. but the sharp eyes of the pirates were too much accustomed to phantoms of every kind to be easily deceived. just as the canoe was about to pass beyond the line of their vision a stir was heard in their camp. then a stern challenge rolled across the river and awoke the slumbering echoes of the forest--perchance to the surprise and scaring away of some prowling beast of prey. "no need for concealment now," said van der kemp, quietly; "we must paddle for life. if you have occasion to use your weapons, nigel, take no life needlessly. moses knows my mind on this point and needs no warning. any fool can take away life. only god can give it." "i will be careful," replied nigel, as he dipped his paddle with all the muscular power at his command. his comrades did the same, and the canoe shot up the river like an arrow. a yell from the dyaks, and the noise of jumping into and pushing off their boats told that there was no time to lose. "they are strong men, and plenty of them to relieve each other," said the hermit, who now spoke in his ordinary tones, "so they have some chance of overhauling us in the smooth water; but a few miles further up there is a rapid which will stop them and will only check us. if we can reach it we shall be safe." while he was speaking every muscle in his broad back and arms was strained to the uttermost; so also were the muscles of his companions, and the canoe seemed to advance by a series of rapid leaps and bounds. yet the sound of the pursuers' oars seemed to increase, and soon the proverb "it is the pace that kills" received illustration, for the speed of the canoe began to decrease a little--very little at first--while the pursuers, with fresh hands at the oars, gradually overhauled the fugitives. "put on a spurt!" said the hermit, setting the example. the pirates heard the words and understood either them or the action that followed, for they also "put on a spurt," and encouraged each other with a cheer. moses heard the cheer, and at the same time heard the sound of the rapid to which they were by that time drawing near. he glanced over his shoulder and could make out the dim form of the leading boat, with a tall figure standing up in the bow, not thirty yards behind. "shall we manage it, moses?" asked van der kemp, in that calm steady voice which seemed to be unchangeable either by anxiety or peril. "no, massa. unpossable--widout _dis_." the negro drew the revolver from his belt, slewed round, took rapid aim and fired. the tall figure in the bow of the boat fell back with a crash and a hideous yell. great shouting and confusion followed, and the boat dropped behind. a few minutes later and the canoe was leaping over the surges of a shallow rapid. they dashed from eddy to eddy, taking advantage of every stone that formed a tail of backwater below it, and gradually worked the light craft upward in a way that the hermit and his man had learned in the nor'-western rivers of america. "we are not safe yet," said the former, resting and wiping his brow as they floated for a few seconds in a calm basin at the head of the rapid. "surely they cannot take a boat up such a place as that!" "nay, but they can follow up the banks on foot. however, we will soon baffle them, for the river winds like a serpent just above this, and by carrying our canoe across one, two, or three spits of land we will gain a distance in an hour or so that would cost them nearly a day to ascend in boats. they know that, and will certainly give up the chase. i think they have given it up already, but it is well to make sure." "i wonder why they did not fire at us," remarked nigel. "probably because they felt sure of catching us," returned the hermit, "and when they recovered from the confusion that moses threw them into we were lost to them in darkness, besides being pretty well beyond range. i hope, moses, that you aimed low." "yes, massa--but it's sca'cely fair when life an' def am in de balance to expect me to hit 'im on de legs on a dark night. legs is a bad targit. bullet's apt to pass between 'em. howseber, dat feller won't hop much for some time to come!" a couple of hours later, having carried the canoe and baggage across the spits of land above referred to, and thus put at least half-a-day's journey between themselves and their foes, they came to a halt for the night. "it won't be easy to find a suitable place to camp on," remarked nigel, glancing at the bank, where the bushes grew so thick that they overhung the water, brushing the faces of our travellers and rendering the darkness so intense that they had literally to feel their way as they glided along. "we will encamp where we are," returned the hermit. "i'll make fast to a bush and you may get out the victuals, moses." "das de bery best word you've said dis day, massa," remarked the negro with a profound sigh. "i's pritty well tired now, an' de bery t'ought ob grub comforts me!" "do you mean that we shall sleep in the canoe?" asked nigel. "ay, why not?" returned the hermit, who could be heard, though not seen, busying himself with the contents of the fore locker. "you'll find the canoe a pretty fair bed. you have only to slip down and pull your head and shoulders through the manhole and go to sleep. you won't want blankets in this weather, and, see--there is a pillow for you and another for moses." "i cannot _see_, but i can feel," said nigel, with a soft laugh, as he passed the pillow aft. "t'ank ee, nadgel," said moses; "here--feel behind you an' you'll find grub for yourself an' some to pass forid to massa. mind when you slip down for go to sleep dat you don't dig your heels into massa's skull. dere's no bulkhead to purtect it." "i'll be careful," said nigel, beginning his invisible supper with keen appetite. "but how about _my_ skull, moses? is there a bulkhead between it and _your_ heels?" "no, but you don't need to mind, for i allers sleeps doubled up, wid my knees agin my chin. it makes de arms an' legs feel more sociable like." with this remark moses ceased to encourage conversation--his mouth being otherwise engaged. thereafter they slipped down into their respective places, laid their heads on their pillows and fell instantly into sound repose, while the dark waters flowed sluggishly past, and the only sound that disturbed the universal stillness was the occasional cry of some creature of the night or the flap of an alligator's tail. chapter fourteen. a new friend found--new dangers encountered and new hopes delayed. when grey dawn began to dispel the gloom of night, nigel roy awoke with an uncomfortable sensation of having been buried alive. stretching himself as was his wont he inadvertently touched the head of van der kemp, an exclamation from whom aroused moses, who, uncoiling himself, awoke spinkie. it was usually the privilege of that affectionate creature to nestle in the negro's bosom. with the alacrity peculiar to his race, spinkie sprang through the manhole and sat down in his particular place to superintend, perhaps to admire, the work of his human friends, whose dishevelled heads emerged simultaneously from their respective burrows. dawn is a period of the day when the spirit of man is calmly reflective. speech seemed distasteful that morning, and as each knew what had to be done, it was needless. the silently conducted operations of the men appeared to arouse fellow-feeling in the monkey, for its careworn countenance became more and more expressive as it gazed earnestly and alternately into the faces of its comrades. to all appearance it seemed about to speak--but it didn't. pushing out from the shore they paddled swiftly up stream, and soon put such a distance between them and their late pursuers that all risk of being overtaken was at an end. all day they advanced inland without rest, save at the breakfast hour, and again at mid-day to dine. towards evening they observed that the country through which they were passing had changed much in character and aspect. the low and swampy region had given place to hillocks and undulating ground, all covered with the beautiful virgin forest with its palms and creepers and noble fruit-trees and rich vegetation, conspicuous among which magnificent ferns of many kinds covered the steep banks of the stream. on rounding a point of the river the travellers came suddenly upon an interesting group, in the midst of a most beautiful woodland scene. under the trees on a flat spot by the river-bank were seated round a fire a man and a boy and a monkey. the monkey was a tame orang-utan, youthful but large. the boy was a dyak in light cotton drawers, with the upper part of his body naked, brass rings on his arms, heavy ornaments in his ears, and a bright kerchief worn as a turban on his head. the man was a sort of nondescript in a semi-european shooting garb, with a wide-brimmed sombrero on his head, black hair, a deeply tanned face, a snub nose, huge beard and moustache, and immense blue spectacles. something not unlike a cheer burst from the usually undemonstrative van der kemp on coming in sight of the party, and he waved his hand as if in recognition. the nondescript replied by starting to his feet, throwing up both arms and giving vent to an absolute roar of joy. "he seems to know you," remarked nigel, as they made for a landing-place. "yes. he is the friend i have come to rescue," replied the hermit in a tone of quiet satisfaction. "he is a naturalist and lives with the rajah against whom the pirates are plotting." "he don't look z'if he needs much rescuin'," remarked moses with a chuckle, as they drew to land. the man looked in truth as if he were well able to take care of himself in most circumstances, being of colossal bulk although somewhat short of limb. "ah! mein frond! mine brodder!" he exclaimed, in fairly idiomatic english, but with a broken pronunciation that was a mixture of dutch, american, and malay. his language therefore, like himself, was nondescript. in fact he was an american-born dutchman, who had been transported early in life to the straits settlements, had received most of his education in hong kong, was an old school-fellow of van der kemp, became an enthusiastic naturalist, and, being possessed of independent means, spent most of his time in wandering about the various islands of the archipelago, making extensive collections of animal and vegetable specimens, which he distributed with liberal hand to whatever museums at home or abroad seemed most to need or desire them. owing to his tastes and habits he had been dubbed professor by his friends. "ach! van der kemp," he exclaimed, while his coal-black eyes glittered as they shook hands, "_vat_ a bootterfly i saw to-day! it beat all creation! the vay it flew--oh! but, excuse me--v'ere did you come from, and vy do you come? an' who is your frond?" he turned to nigel as he spoke, and doffed his sombrero with a gracious bow. "an englishman--nigel roy--who has joined me for a few months," said the hermit. "let me introduce you, nigel, to my good friend, professor verkimier." nigel held out his hand and gave the naturalist's a shake so hearty, that a true friendship was begun on the spot--a friendship which was rapidly strengthened when the professor discovered that the english youth had a strong leaning towards his own favourite studies. "ve vill hont an' shot togezzer, mine frond," he said, on making this discovery, "ant i vill show you v'ere de best bootterflies are to be fount--oh! sooch a von as i saw to--but, excuse me, van der kemp. vy you come here joost now?" "to save _you_," said the hermit, with a scintillation of his half-pitiful smile. "to safe _me_!" exclaimed verkimier, with a look of surprise which was greatly intensified by the rotundity of the blue spectacles. "vell, i don't feel to vant safing joost at present." "it is not that danger threatens _you_ so much as your friend the rajah," returned the hermit. "but if he falls, all under his protection fall along with him. i happen to have heard of a conspiracy against him, on so large a scale that certain destruction would follow if he were taken by surprise, so i have come on in advance of the conspirators to warn him in time. you know i have received much kindness from the rajah, so i could do no less than warn him of impending danger, and then the fact that you were with him made me doubly anxious to reach you in time." while the hermit was saying this, the naturalist removed his blue glasses, and slowly wiped them with a corner of his coat-tails. replacing them, he gazed intently into the grave countenance of his friend till he had finished speaking. "are zee raskils near?" he asked, sternly. "no. we have come on many days ahead of them. but we found a party at the river's mouth awaiting their arrival." "ant zey cannot arrife, you say, for several veeks?" "probably not--even though they had fair and steady winds." a sigh of satisfaction broke through the naturalist's moustache on hearing this. "zen i vill--_ve_ vill, you and i, mister roy,--go after ze bootterflies to-morrow!" "but we must push on," remonstrated van der kemp, "for preparations to resist an attack cannot be commenced too soon." "_you_ may push on, mine frond; go ahead if you vill, but i vill not leave zee bootterflies. you know vell zat i vill die--if need be--for zee rajah. ve must all die vonce, at least, and i should like to die-- if i must die--in a goot cause. what cause better zan frondship? but you say joost now zere is no dancher. vell, i vill go ant see zee bootterflies to-morrow. after zat, i will go ant die--if it must be-- with zee!" "i heartily applaud your sentiment," said nigel, with a laugh, as he helped himself to some of the food which the dyak youth and moses had prepared, "and if van der kemp will give me leave of absence i will gladly keep you company." "zank you. pass round zee victuals. my appetite is strong. it always vas more or less strong. vat say you, van der kemp?" "i have no objection. moses and i can easily take the canoe up the river. there are no rapids, and it is not far to the rajah's village; so you are welcome to go, nigel." "das de most 'straord'nary craze i eber know'd men inflicted wid!" said moses that night, as he sat smoking his pipe beside the dyak boy. "it passes my compr'ension what fun dey find runnin' like child'n arter butterflies, an' beetles, an' sitch like varmint. my massa am de wisest man on eart', yet _he_ go a little wild dat way too--sometimes!" moses looked at the dyak boy with a puzzled expression, but as the dyak boy did not understand english, he looked intently at the fire, and said nothing. next morning nigel entered the forest under the guidance of verkimier and the dyak youth, and the orang-utan, which followed like a dog, and sometimes even took hold of its master's arm and walked with him as if it had been a very small human being. it was a new experience to nigel to walk in the sombre shade beneath the tangled arches of the wilderness. in some respects it differed entirely from his expectations, and in others it surpassed them. the gloom was deeper than he had pictured it, but the shade was not displeasing in a land so close to the equator. then the trees were much taller than he had been led to suppose, and the creeping plants more numerous, while, to his surprise, the wild-flowers were comparatively few and small. but the scarcity of these was somewhat compensated by the rich and brilliant colouring of the foliage. the abundance and variety of the ferns also struck the youth particularly. "ah! zey are magnificent!" exclaimed verkimier with enthusiasm. "look at zat tree-fern. you have not'ing like zat in england--eh! i have found nearly von hoondred specimens of ferns. zen, look at zee fruit-trees. ve have here, you see, zee lansat, mangosteen, rambutan, jack, jambon, blimbing ant many ozers--but zee queen of fruits is zee durian. have you tasted zee durian?" "no, not yet." "ha! a new sensation is before you! stay, you vill eat von by ant by. look, zat is a durian tree before you." he pointed as he spoke to a large and lofty tree, which mr a.r. wallace, the celebrated naturalist and traveller, describes as resembling an elm in general character but with a more smooth and scaly bark. the fruit is round, or slightly oval, about the size of a man's head, of a green colour, and covered all over with short spines which are very strong and so sharp that it is difficult to lift the fruit from the ground. only the experienced and expert can cut the tough outer rind. there are five faint lines extending from the base to the apex of the fruit, through which it may be divided with a heavy knife and a strong hand, so as to get to the delicious creamy pulp inside. there is something paradoxical in the descriptions of this fruit by various writers, but all agree that it is inexpressibly good! says one--writing of the sixteenth century--"it is of such an excellent taste that it surpasses in flavour all the other fruits of the world." another writes: "this fruit is of a hot and humid nature. to those not used to it, it seems at first to smell like rotten onions! but immediately they have tasted it they prefer it to all other food." wallace himself says of it: "when brought into the house, the smell is so offensive that some persons can never bear to taste it. this was my own case in malacca, but in borneo i found a ripe fruit on the ground, and, eating it out of doors, i at once became a confirmed durian-eater!" this was exactly the experience of nigel roy that day, and the way in which the fruit came to him was also an experience, but of a very different sort. it happened just as they were looking about for a suitable spot on which to rest and eat their mid-day meal. verkimier was in front with the orang-utan reaching up to his arm and hobbling affectionately by his side--for there was a strong mutual affection between them. the dyak youth brought up the rear, with a sort of game-bag on his shoulders. suddenly nigel felt something graze his arm, and heard a heavy thud at his side. it was a ripe durian which had fallen from an immense height and missed him by a hairbreadth. "zank got, you have escaped!" exclaimed the professor, looking back with a solemn countenance. "i have indeed escaped what might have been a severe blow," said nigel, stooping to examine the fruit, apparently forgetful that more might follow. "come--come avay. my boy vill bring it. men are sometimes killed by zis fruit. here now ve vill dine." they sat down on a bank which was canopied by ferns. while the boy was arranging their meal, verkimier drew a heavy hunting-knife from his belt and, applying it with an unusually strong hand to the durian, laid it open. nigel did not at all relish the smell, but he was not fastidious or apt to be prejudiced. he tasted--and, like mr wallace, "became a confirmed durian-eater" from that day. "ve draw near to zee region vere ve shall find zee bootterflies," said the naturalist, during a pause in their luncheon. "i hope we shall be successful," said nigel, helping himself to some more of what may be styled durian cream. "to judge from the weight and hardness of this fruit, i should think a blow on one's head from it would be fatal." "sometimes, not always. i suppose zat dyak skulls are strong. but zee wound is terrible, for zee spikes tear zee flesh dreadfully. zee dyak chief, rajah, with whom i dwell joost now, was floored once by one, and he expected to die--but he did not. he is alife ant vell, as you shall see." as he spoke a large butterfly fluttered across the scene of their festivities. with all the energy of his enthusiastic spirit and strong muscular frame the naturalist leaped up, overturned his dinner, rushed after the coveted specimen, tripped over a root, and measured his length on the ground. "zat comes of too much horry!" he remarked, as he picked up his glasses and returned, humbly, to continue his dinner. "mine frond, learn a lesson from a foolish man!" "i shall learn two lessons," said nigel, laughing--"first, to avoid your too eager haste, and, second, to copy, if i can, your admirable enthusiasm." "you are very goot. some more cheekin' if you please. zanks. ve most make haste viz our meal ant go to vork." the grandeur and novelty of the scenery through which they passed when they did go to work was a source of constant delight and surprise to our hero, whose inherent tendency to take note of and admire the wonderful works of god was increased by the unflagging enthusiasm and interesting running commentary of his companion, whose flow of language and eager sympathy formed a striking contrast to the profound silence and gravity of the dyak youth, as well as to the pathetic and affectionate selfishness of the man-monkey. it must not, however, be supposed that the young orang-utan was unworthy of his victuals, for, besides being an amusing and harmless companion, he had been trained to use his natural capacity for climbing trees in the service of his master. thus he ascended the tall durian trees, when ordered, and sent down some of the fruit in a few minutes--an operation which his human companions could not have accomplished without tedious delay and the construction of an ingenious ladder having slender bamboos for one of its sides, and the tree to be ascended for its other side, with splinters of bamboo driven into it by way of rounds. "zat is zee pitcher-plant," said verkimier, as nigel stopped suddenly before a plant which he had often read of but never seen. he was told by his friend that pitcher-plants were very numerous in that region; that every mountain-top abounded with them; that they would be found trailing along the ground and climbing over shrubs and stunted trees, with their elegant pitchers hanging in every direction. some of these, he said, were long and slender, others broad and short. the plant at which they were looking was a broad green one, variously tinted and mottled with red, and was large enough to hold two quarts of water. resuming the march nigel observed that the group of orchids was abundant, but a large proportion of the species had small inconspicuous flowers. some, however, had large clusters of yellow flowers which had a very ornamental effect on the sombre forest. but, although the exceptions were striking, he found that in borneo, as elsewhere, flowers were scarcer than he had expected in an equatorial forest. there were, however, more than enough of striking and surprising things to engage the attention of our hero, and arouse his interest. one tree they came to which rendered him for some moments absolutely speechless! to the intense delight of the professor, who marched his new-found sympathiser from one object of interest to another with the secret intention of surprising him, and when he had got him to the point of open-mouthed amazement he was wont to turn his spectacles full on his face, like the mouths of a blue binocular, in order to witness and enjoy his emotions! nigel found this out at last and was rather embarrassed in consequence. "zat," exclaimed the naturalist, after gazing at his friend for some time in silence, "zat is a tree vitch planted itself in mid-air and zen sent its roots down to zee ground and its branches up to zee sky!" "it looks as if it had," returned nigel; "i have seen a tree of the same kind near the coast. how came it to grow in this way?" "i know not. it is zought zat zey spring from a seed dropped by a bird into zee fork of anozer tree. zee seed grows, sends his roots down ant his branches up. ven his roots reach zee ground he lays hold, ant, ven strong enough, kills his support--zus returning efil for good, like a zankless dependent. ah! zere is much resemblance between plants and animals! com', ve must feed here," said the professor, resting his gun against one of the roots, "i had expected to find zee bootterflies sooner. it cannot be helped. let us make zis our banqueting-hall. ve vill have a durian to refresh us, ant here is a handy tree which seems to have ripe vones on it.--go," he added, turning to the orang-utan, "and send down von or two." the creature looked helplessly incapable, pitifully unwilling, scratching its side the while. evidently it was a lazy monkey. "do you hear?" said verkimier, sternly. the orang moved uneasily, but still declined to go. turning sharply on it, the professor bent down, placed a hand on each of his knees and stared through the blue goggles into the animal's face. this was more than it could stand. with a very bad grace it hobbled off to the durian tree, ascended it with a sort of lazy, lumbering facility, and hurled down some of the fruit without warning those below to look out. "my little frond is obstinate sometimes," remarked the naturalist, picking up the fruit, "but ven i bring my glasses to bear on him he always gives in, i never found zem fail. come now; eat, an' ve vill go to vork again. ve must certainly find zee bootterflies somevere before night." but verkimier was wrong. it was his destiny not to find the butterflies that night, or in that region at all, for he and his companion had not quite finished their meal when a dyak youth came running up to them saying that he had been sent by the rajah to order their immediate return to the village. "alas! ve most go. it is dancherous to disobey zee rajah--ant i am sorry--very sorry--zat i cannot show you zee bootterflies to-day. no matter.--go," (to the dyak youth), "tell your chief ve vill come. better lock zee next time!" chapter fifteen. hunting the great man-monkey. although professor verkimier had promised to return at once, he was compelled to encamp in the forest, being overtaken by night before he could reach the river and procure a boat. next morning they started at daybreak. the country over which they passed had again changed its character and become more hilly. on the summits of many of the hills dyak villages could be seen, and rice fields were met with as they went along. several gullies and rivulets were crossed by means of native bamboo bridges, and the professor explained, as he went along, the immense value of the bamboo to the natives. with it they make their suspension bridges, build their houses, and procure narrow planking for their floors. if they want broader planks they split a large bamboo on one side and flatten it out to a plank of about eighteen inches wide. portions of hollow bamboo serve as receptacles for milk or water. if a precipice stops a path, the dyaks will not hesitate to construct a bamboo path along the face of it, using branches of trees wherever convenient from which to hang the path, and every crevice or notch in the rocks to receive the ends of the bamboos by which it is supported. honey-bees in borneo hang their combs, to be out of danger no doubt, under the branches of the tappan, which towers above all the other trees of the forest. but the dyaks love honey and value wax as an article of trade; they therefore erect their ingenious bamboo ladder--which can be prolonged to any height on the smooth branchless stem of the tappan--and storm the stronghold of the bees with much profit to themselves, for bees'-wax will purchase from the traders the brass wire, rings, gold-edged kerchiefs and various ornaments with which they decorate themselves. when travelling, the dyaks use bamboos as cooking vessels in which to boil rice and other vegetables; as jars in which to preserve honey, sugar, etcetera, or salted fish and fruit. split bamboos form aqueducts by which water is conveyed to the houses. a small neatly carved piece of bamboo serves as a case in which are carried the materials used in the disgusting practice of betel-nut chewing--which seems to be equivalent to the western tobacco-chewing. if a pipe is wanted the dyak will in a wonderfully short space of time make a huge hubble-bubble out of bamboos of different sizes, and if his long-bladed knife requires a sheath the same gigantic grass supplies one almost ready-made. but the uses to which this reed may be applied are almost endless, and the great outstanding advantage of it is that it needs no other tools than an axe and a knife to work it. at about mid-day the river was reached, and they found a native boat, or prahu, which had been sent down to convey them to the rajah's village. here nigel was received with the hospitality due to a friend of van der kemp, who, somehow--probably by unselfish readiness, as well as ability, to oblige--had contrived to make devoted friends in whatever part of the malay archipelago he travelled. afterwards, in a conversation with nigel, the professor, referring to those qualities of the hermit which endeared him to men everywhere, said, with a burst of enthusiasm, which almost outdid himself-- "you cannot oonderstant van der kemp. no man can oonderstant him. he is goot, right down to zee marrow--kind, amiable, oonselfish, obliging, nevair seems to zink of himself at all, ant, abof all zings, is capable. vat he vill do, he can do--vat he can do he vill do. but he is sad-- very sad." "i have observed that, of course," said nigel. "do you know what makes him so sad?" the professor shook his head. "no, i do not know. nobody knows. i have tried to find out, but he vill not speak." the orang-kaya, or rich man, as this hill chief was styled, had provided lodgings for his visitors in the "head-house." this was a large circular building erected on poles. there is such a house in nearly all dyak villages. it serves as a trading-place, a strangers' room, a sleeping-room for unmarried youths, and a general council-chamber. here nigel found the hermit and moses enjoying a good meal when he arrived, to which he and the professor sat down after paying their respects to the chief. "the orang-kaya hopes that we will stay with him some time and help to defend the village," said van der kemp, when they were all seated. "of course you have agreed?" said nigel. "yes; i came for that purpose." "we's allers ready to fight in a good cause," remarked moses, just before filling his mouth with rice. "or to die in it!" added verkimier, engulfing the breast of a chicken at a bite. "but as zee pirates are not expected for some days, ve may as vell go after zee mias--zat is what zee natifs call zee orang-utan. it is a better word, being short." moses glanced at the professor out of the corners of his black eyes and seemed greatly tickled by his enthusiastic devotion to business. "i am also," continued the professor, "extremely anxious to go at zee bootterflies before--" "you die," suggested nigel, venturing on a pleasantry, whereat moses opened his mouth in a soundless laugh, but, observing the professor's goggles levelled at him, he transformed the laugh into an astounding sneeze, and immediately gazed with pouting innocence and interest at his plate. "do you always sneeze like zat?" asked verkimier. "not allers," answered the negro simply, "sometimes i gibs way a good deal wuss. depends on de inside ob my nose an' de state ob de wedder." what the professor would have replied we cannot say, for just then a dyak youth rushed in to say that an unusually large and gorgeous butterfly had been seen just outside the village! no application of fire to gunpowder could have produced a more immediate effect. the professor's rice was scattered on the floor, and himself was outside the head-house before his comrades knew exactly what was the matter. "he's always like that," said the hermit, with a slight twinkle in his eyes. "nothing discourages--nothing subdues him. twice i pulled him out of deadly danger into which he had run in his eager pursuit of specimens. and he has returned the favour to me, for he rescued me once when a mias had got me down and would certainly have killed me, for my gun was empty at the moment, and i had dropped my knife." "is, then, the orang-utan so powerful and savage?" "truly, yes, when wounded and driven to bay," returned the hermit. "you must not judge of the creature by the baby that verkimier has tamed. a full-grown male is quite as large as a man, though very small in the legs in proportion, so that it does not stand high. it is also very much stronger than the most powerful man. you would be quite helpless in its grip, i assure you." "i hope, with the professor," returned nigel, "that we may have a hunt after them, either before or after the arrival of the pirates. i know he is very anxious to secure a good specimen for some museum in which he is interested--i forget which." as he spoke, the youth who had brought information about the butterfly returned and said a few words to moses in his native tongue. "what does he say?" asked niger. "dat massa verkimier is in full chase, an' it's my opinion dat when he comes back he'll be wet all ober, and hab his shins and elbows barked." "why d'you think so?" "'cause dat's de way he hoed on when we was huntin' wid him last year. he nebber larns fro' 'sperience." "that's a very fine-looking young fellow," remarked nigel, referring to the dyak youth who had just returned, and who, with a number of other natives, was watching the visitors with profound interest while they ate. as the young man referred to was a good sample of the youth of his tribe, we shall describe him. though not tall, he was well and strongly proportioned, and his skin was of a reddish-brown colour. like all his comrades, he wore little clothing. a gay handkerchief with a gold lace border encircled his head, from beneath which flowed a heavy mass of straight, jet-black hair. large crescent-shaped ornaments hung from his ears. his face was handsome and the expression pleasing, though the mouth was large and the lips rather thick. numerous brass rings encircled his arms above and below the elbows. his only other piece of costume was a waist-cloth of blue cotton, which hung down before and behind. it ended in three bands of red, blue, and white. there were also rows of brass rings on his legs, and armlets of white shells. at his side he wore a long slender knife and a little pouch containing the materials for betel-chewing. "yes, and he is as good as he looks," said the hermit. "his name is gurulam, and all the people of his tribe have benefited by the presence in borneo of that celebrated englishman sir james brooke,--rajah brooke as he was called,--who did so much to civilise the dyaks of borneo and to ameliorate their condition." the prophecy of moses about the professor was fulfilled. just as it was growing dark that genial scientist returned, drenched to the skin and covered with mud, having tumbled into a ditch. his knuckles also were skinned, his knees and shins damaged, and his face scratched, but he was perfectly happy in consequence of having secured a really splendid specimen of a "bootterfly" as big as his hand; the scientific name of which, for very sufficient reasons, we will not attempt to inflict on our readers, and the description of which may be shortly stated by the single word--gorgeous! being fond of verkimier, and knowing his desire to obtain a full-grown orang-utan, gurulam went off early next morning to search for one. half-a-dozen of his comrades accompanied him armed only with native spears, for their object was not to hunt the animal, but to discover one if possible, and let the professor know so that he might go after it with his rifle, for they knew that he was a keen sportsman as well as a man of science. they did not, indeed, find what they sought for, but they were told by natives with whom they fell in that a number of the animals had been seen among the tree-tops not more than a day's march into the forest. they hurried home therefore with this information, and that day-- accompanied by the dyak youths, nigel, the hermit, and moses--verkimier started off in search of the mias; intending to camp out or to take advantage of a native hut if they should chance to be near one when night overtook them. descending the hill region, they soon came to more level ground, where there was a good deal of swamp, through which they passed on dyak roads. these roads consisted simply of tree-trunks laid end to end, along which the natives, being barefooted, walk with ease and certainty, but our booted hunters were obliged to proceed along them with extreme caution. the only one who came to misfortune was, as usual, the professor; and in the usual way! it occurred at the second of these tree-roads. "look, look at that remarkable insect!" exclaimed nigel, eagerly, in the innocence of his heart. the professor was in front of him; he obediently looked, saw the insect, made an eager step towards it, and next moment was flat on the swamp, while the woods rang with his companions laughter. the remarkable insect, whatever it was, vanished from the scene, and the professor was dragged, smiling though confused, out of the bog. these things affected him little. his soul was large and rose superior to such trifles. the virgin forest into which they penetrated was of vast extent; spreading over plain, mountain, and morass in every direction for hundreds of miles, for we must remind the reader that the island of borneo is considerably larger than all the british islands put together, while its inhabitants are comparatively few. verkimier had been absolutely revelling in this forest for several months--ranging its glades, penetrating its thickets, bathing, (inadvertently), in its quagmires, and maiming himself generally, with unwearied energy and unextinguishable enthusiasm; shooting, skinning, stuffing, preserving, and boiling the bones of all its inhabitants--except the human--to the great advantage of science and the immense interest and astonishment of the natives. yet with all his energy and perseverance the professor had failed, up to that time, to obtain a large specimen of a male orang-utan, though he had succeeded in shooting several small specimens and females, besides catching the young one which he had tamed. it was therefore with much excitement that he learned from a party of bees'-wax hunters, on the second morning of their expedition, that a large male mias had been seen that very day. towards the afternoon they found the spot that had been described to them, and a careful examination began. "you see," said verkimier, in a low voice, to nigel, as he went a step in advance peering up into the trees, with rifle at the "ready" and bending a little as if by that means he better avoided the chance of being seen. "you see, i came to borneo for zee express purpose of obtaining zee great man-monkey and vatching his habits.--hush! do i not hear somet'ing?" "nothing but your own voice, i think," said nigel, with a twinkle in his eye. "vell--hush! keep kviet, all of you." as the whole party marched in single file after the professor, and were at the moment absolutely silent, this order induced the display of a good many teeth. just then the man of science was seen to put his rifle quickly to the shoulder; the arches of the forest rang with a loud report; various horrified creatures were seen and heard to scamper away, and next moment a middle-sized orang-utan came crashing through the branches of a tall tree and fell dead with a heavy thud on the ground. the professor's rifle was a breech-loader. he therefore lost no time in re-charging, and hurried forward as if he saw other game, while the rest of the party--except van der kemp, nigel, and gurulam--fell behind to look at and pick up the fallen animal. "look out!" whispered nigel, pointing to a bit of brown hair that he saw among the leaves high overhead. "vere? i cannot see him," whispered the naturalist, whose eyes blazed enough almost to melt his blue glasses. "do _you_ fire, mr roy?" "my gun is charged only with small-shot, for birds. it is useless for such game," said nigel. "ach! i see!" up went the rifle and again the echoes were startled and the animal kingdom astounded, especially that portion at which the professor had fired, for there was immediately a tremendous commotion among the leaves overhead, and another orang of the largest size was seen to cross an open space and disappear among the thick foliage. evidently the creature had been hit, but not severely, for it travelled among the tree-tops at the rate of full five miles an hour, obliging the hunters to run at a rapid pace over the rough ground in order to keep up with it. in its passage from tree to tree the animal showed caution and foresight, selecting only those branches that interlaced with other boughs, so that it made uninterrupted progress, and also had a knack of always keeping masses of thick foliage underneath it so that for some time no opportunity was found of firing another shot. at last, however, it came to one of those dyak roads of which we have made mention, so that it could not easily swing from one tree to another, and the stoppage of rustling among the leaves told that the creature had halted. for some time they gazed up among the branches without seeing anything, but at last, in a place where the leaves seemed to have been thrust aside near the top of one of the highest trees, a great red hairy body was seen, and a huge black face gazed fiercely down at the hunters. verkimier fired instantly, the branches closed, and the monster moved off in another direction. in desperate anxiety nigel fired both barrels of his shot-gun. he might as well have fired at the moon. gurulam was armed only with a spear, and van der kemp, who was not much of a sportsman, carried a similar weapon. the rest of the party were still out of sight in rear looking after the dead mias. it was astonishing how little noise was made by so large an animal as it moved along. more than once the hunters had to halt and listen intently for the rustling of the leaves before they could make sure of being on the right track. at last they caught sight of him again on the top of a very high tree, and the professor got two more shots, but without bringing him down. then he was seen, quite exposed for a moment, walking in a stooping posture along the large limb of a tree, but the hunter was loading at the time and lost the chance. finally he got on to a tree whose top was covered with a dense mass of creepers which completely hid him from view. then he halted and the sound of snapping branches was heard. "you've not much chance of him now," remarked the hermit, as they all stood in a group gazing up into the tree-top. "i have often seen the mias act thus when severely wounded. he is making a nest to lie down and die in." "zen ve must shoot again," said the professor, moving round the tree and looking out for a sign of the animal. at last he seemed to have found what he wanted, for raising his rifle he took a steady aim and fired. a considerable commotion of leaves and fall of broken branches followed. then the huge red body of the mias appeared falling through, but it was not dead, for it caught hold of branches as it fell and hung on as long as it could; then it came crashing down, and alighted on its face with an awful thud. after firing the last shot verkimier had not reloaded, being too intent on watching the dying struggles of the creature, and when it fell with such violence he concluded that it was dead. for the same reason nigel had neglected to reload after firing. thus it happened that when the enormous brute suddenly rose and made for a tree with the evident intention of climbing it, no one was prepared to stop it except the dyak youth gurulam. he chanced to be standing between the mias and the tree. boldly he levelled his spear and made a thrust that would probably have killed the beast, if it had not caught the point of the spear and turned it aside. then with its left paw it caught the youth by the neck, seized his thigh with one of its hind paws, and fixed its teeth in his right shoulder. never was man rendered more suddenly and completely helpless, and death would have been his sure portion before the hunters had reloaded if van der kemp had not leaped forward, and, thrusting his spear completely through the animal's body, killed it on the spot. chapter sixteen. begins with a terrible fight and ends with a hasty flight. the hunt, we need scarcely say, was abruptly terminated, and immediate preparations were made for conveying the wounded man and the two orangs to the dyak village. this was quickly arranged, for the convenient bamboo afforded ready-made poles wherewith to form a litter on which to carry them. the huge creature which had given them so much trouble, and so nearly cost them one human life, was found to be indeed of the largest size. it was not tall but very broad and large. the exact measurements, taken by the professor, who never travelled without his tape-measure, were as follows:-- height from heel to top of head, feet inches. outstretched arms across chest, feet inches. width of face, foot inches. girth of arm, foot inches. girth of wrist, inches. the muscular power of such a creature is of course immense, as nigel and the professor had a rare chance of seeing that very evening--of which, more presently. on careful examination by nigel, who possessed some knowledge of surgery, it was found that none of gurulam's bones had been broken, and that although severely lacerated about the shoulders and right thigh, no very serious injury had been done--thanks to the promptitude and vigour of the hermit's spear-thrust. the poor youth, however, was utterly helpless for the time being, and had to be carried home. that afternoon the party reached a village in a remote part of the forest where they resolved to halt for the night, as no other resting-place could be reached before dark. while a supper of rice and fowl was being cooked by moses, van der kemp attended to the wounded man, and nigel accompanied the professor along the banks of the stream on which the village stood. having merely gone out for a stroll they carried no weapons except walking-sticks, intending to go only a short distance. interesting talk, however, on the character and habits of various animals, made them forget time until the diminution of daylight warned them to turn. they were about to do so when they observed, seated in an open place near the stream, the largest orang they had yet seen. it was feeding on succulent shoots by the waterside: a fact which surprised the professor, for his inquiries and experience had hitherto taught him that orangs never eat such food except when starving. the fat and vigorous condition in which this animal was, forbade the idea of starvation. besides, it had brought a durian fruit to the banks of the stream and thrown it down, so that either taste or eccentricity must have induced it to prefer the shoots. perhaps its digestion was out of order and it required a tonic. anyhow, it continued to devour a good many young shoots while our travellers were peeping at it in mute surprise through the bushes. that they had approached so near without being observed was due to the fact that a brawling rapid flowed just there, and the mias was on the other side of the stream. by mutual consent the men crouched to watch its proceedings. they were not a little concerned, however, when the brute seized an overhanging bough, and, with what we may style sluggish agility, swung itself clumsily but lightly to their side of the stream. it picked up the durian which lay there and began to devour it. biting off some of the strong spikes with which that charming fruit is covered, it made a small hole in it, and then with its powerful fingers tore off the thick rind and began to enjoy a feast. now, with monkeys, no less than with men, there is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip, for the mias had just begun its meal, or, rather, its dessert, when a crocodile, which the professor had not observed and nigel had mistaken for a log, suddenly opened its jaws and seized the big monkey's leg. the scene that ensued baffles description! grasping the crocodile with its other three hands by nose, throat, and eyes, the mias almost performed the american operation of gouging--digging its powerful thumbs and fingers into every crevice and tearing open its assailant's jaws. the crocodile, taken apparently by surprise, went into dire convulsions, and making for deep water, plunged his foe therein over head and ears. nothing daunted, the mias regained his footing, hauled his victim on to a mudbank, and, jumping on his back began to tear and pommel him. there was nothing of the prize-fighter in the mias. he never clenched his fist--never hit straight from the shoulder, but the buffeting and slapping which he gave resounded all over the place. at last he caught hold of a fold of his opponent's throat, which he began to tear open with fingers and teeth. wrenching himself free with a supreme effort the crocodile shot into the stream and disappeared with a sounding splash of its tail, while the mias waded lamely to the shore with an expression of sulky indignation on its great black face. slowly the creature betook itself to the shelter of the forest, and we need scarcely add that the excited observers of the combat made no attempt to hinder its retreat. it is said that the python is the only other creature that dares to attack the orang-utan, and that when it does so victory usually declares for the man-monkey, which bites and tears it to death. the people of the village in which the hunters rested that night were evidently not accustomed to white men--perhaps had never seen them before--for they crowded round them while at supper and gazed in silent wonder as if they were watching a group of white-faced baboons feeding! they were, however, very hospitable, and placed before their visitors an abundance of their best food without expecting anything in return. brass rings were the great ornament in this village--as they are, indeed, among the dyaks generally. many of the women had their arms completely covered with them, as well as their legs from the ankle to the knee. their petticoats were fastened to a coil of rattan, stained red, round their bodies. they also wore coils of brass wire, girdles of small silver coins, and sometimes broad belts of brass ring-armour. it was break of dawn next morning when our hunters started, bearing their wounded comrade and the dead orangs with them. arrived at the village they found the people in great excitement preparing for defence, as news had been brought to the effect that the pirates had landed at the mouth of the river, joined the disaffected band which awaited them, and that an attack might be expected without delay, for they were under command of the celebrated malay pirate baderoon. nigel observed that the countenance of his friend van der kemp underwent a peculiar change on hearing this man's name mentioned. there was a combination of anxiety, which was unnatural to him, and of resolution, which was one of his chief characteristics. "is baderoon the enemy whom you saw on the islet on our first night out?" asked nigel, during a ramble with the hermit that evening. "yes, and i fear to meet him," replied his friend in a low voice. nigel was surprised. the impression made on his mind since their intercourse was that van der kemp was incapable of the sensation of fear. "is he so very bitter against you?" asked nigel. "very," was the curt reply. "have you reason to think he would take your life if he could?" "i am sure he would. as i told you before, i have thwarted his plans more than once. when he hears that it is i who have warned the orang kaya against him, he will pursue me to the death, and--and i _must not_ meet him." "indeed!" exclaimed nigel, with renewed surprise. but the hermit took no note of the exclamation. anxiety had given place to a frown, and his eyes were fixed on the ground. it seemed to nigel so evident that he did not wish to pursue the subject, that he slightly changed it. "i suppose," he said, "that there is no fear of the dyaks of the village being unable to beat off the pirates now that they have been warned?" "none whatever. indeed, this is so well-known to baderoon that i think he will abandon the attempt. but he will not abandon his designs on me. however, we must wait and see how god will order events." next morning spies returned to the village with the information that the pirates had taken their departure from the mouth of the river. "do you think this is an attempt to deceive us?" asked the chief, turning to van der kemp, when he heard the news. "i think not. and even should it be so, and they should return, you are ready and well able to meet them." "yes, ready--and _well_ able to meet them," replied the orang-kaya, drawing himself up proudly. "did they _all_ go in one direction?" asked van der kemp of the youths who had brought the news. "yes, all went in a body to the north--except one boat which rowed southward." "hmm! i thought so. my friends, listen to me. this is no pretence. they do not mean to attack you now you are on your guard; but that boat which went south contains baderoon, and i feel certain that he means to hang about here till he gets the chance of killing me." "that is well," returned the chief, calmly. "my young men will hunt till they find where he is. then they will bring us the information and van der kemp will go out with a band and slay his enemy." "no, my friend," said the hermit, firmly; "that shall not be. i must get out of his way, and in order to do so will leave you at once, for there will be no further need for my services here." the chief looked at his friend in surprise. "well," he said, "you have a good judgment, and understand your own affairs. but you have already rendered me good service, and i will help you to fly--though such is not the habit of the dyaks! there is a trader's vessel to start for sumatra by the first light of day. will my friend go by that?" "i am grateful," answered the hermit, "but i need no help--save some provisions, for i have my little canoe, which will suffice." as this colloquy was conducted in the native tongue it was unintelligible to nigel, but after the interview with the chief the hermit explained matters to him, and bade moses get ready for a start several hours before dawn. "you see we must do the first part of our trip in the dark, for baderoon has a keen eye and ear. then we will land and sleep all day where the sharpest eye will fail to find us--and, luckily, pirates have been denied the power of scenting out their foes. when night comes we will start again and get out of sight of land before the next dawn." "mine frond," said the professor, turning his moon-like goggles full on the hermit. "i vill go viz you." "i should be only too happy to have your company," returned the hermit, "but my canoe cannot by any contrivance be made to hold more than three." "zat is no matter to me," rejoined verkimier; "you forget zee trader's boat. i vill go in zat to sumatra. ve vill find out zee port he is going to, ant you vill meet me zere. vait for me if i have not arrived--or i vill vait for you. i have longed to visit sumatra, ant vat better fronds could i go viz zan yourselfs?" "but, my good friend," returned the hermit, "my movements may not exactly suit yours. here they are,--you can judge for yourself. first i will, god permitting, cross over to sumatra in my canoe." "but it is t'ree hoondert miles across, if not more!" "no matter--there are plenty of islands on the way. besides, some passing vessel will give me a lift, no doubt. then i will coast along to one of the eastern ports, where i know there is a steamboat loading up about this time. the captain is an old friend of mine. he brought me and my companions the greater part of the way here. if i find him i will ask him to carry my canoe on his return voyage through sunda straits, and leave it with another friend of mine at telok betong on the south coast of sumatra--not far, as you know, from my home in krakatoa. then i will proceed overland to the same place, so that my friend nigel roy may see a little of the country." "ant vat if you do _not_ find your frond zee captain of zee steamer?" "why, then i shall have to adopt some other plan. it is the uncertainty of my movements that makes me think you should not depend on them." "zat is not'ing to me, van der kemp; you joost go as you say. i vill follow ant take my chance. i am use' to ooncertainties ant difficoolties. zey can not influence me." after a good deal of consideration this plan was agreed to. the professor spent part of the night in giving directions about the preserving of his specimens, which he meant to leave at the village in charge of a man whom he had trained to assist him, while van der kemp with his companions lay down to snatch a little sleep before setting out on their voyage, or, as the dyak chief persisted in calling it, their flight! when nigel had slept about five minutes--as he thought--he was awakened by moses. "don't make a noise, massa nadgel! dere may be spies in de camp for all we knows, so we mus' git off like mice. canoe's ready an' massa waitin'; we gib you to de last momint." in a few minutes our hero was sleepily following the negro through the woods to the spot where the canoe was in waiting. the night was very dark. this was in their favour,--at least as regarded discovery. "but how shall we ever see to make our way down stream?" asked nigel of the hermit in a whisper on reaching the place of embarkation. "the current will guide us. besides, i have studied the river with a view to this flight. be careful in getting in. now, moses, are you ready?" "all right, massa." "shove off, then." there was something so eerie in the subdued tones, and stealthy motions, and profound darkness, that nigel could not help feeling as if they were proceeding to commit some black and criminal deed! floating with the current, with as little noise as possible, and having many a narrow escape of running against points of land and sandbanks, they flew swiftly towards the sea, so that dawn found them among the mud flats and the mangrove swamps. here they found a spot where mangrove roots and bushes formed an impenetrable screen, behind which they spent the day, chiefly in sleep, and in absolute security. when darkness set in they again put forth, and cautiously clearing the river's mouth, were soon far out on the open sea, which was fortunately calm at the time, the slight air that blew being in their favour. "we are safe from pursuit now," said van der kemp in a tone of satisfaction, as they paused for a breathing spell. "o massa!" exclaimed moses at that moment, in a voice of consternation; "we's forgotten spinkie!" "so we have!" returned the hermit in a voice of regret so profound that nigel could scarce restrain a laugh in spite of his sympathy. but spinkie had not forgotten himself. observing probably, that these night expeditions were a change in his master's habits, he had kept an unusually watchful eye on the canoe, so that when it was put in the water, he had jumped on board unseen in the darkness, and had retired to the place where he usually slept under hatches when the canoe travelled at night. awakened from refreshing sleep at the sound of his name, spinkie emerged suddenly from the stern-manhole, right under the negro's nose, and with a sleepy "oo, oo!" gazed up into his face. "ho! dare you is, you mis'rible hyperkrite!" exclaimed moses, kissing the animal in the depth of his satisfaction. "he's here, massa, all right. now, you go to bed agin, you small bundle ob hair." the creature retired obediently to its place, and laying its little cheek on one of its small hands, committed itself to repose. van der kemp was wrong when he said they were safe. a pirate scout had seen the canoe depart. being alone and distant from the rendezvous of his commander, some time elapsed before the news could be conveyed to him. when baderoon was at length informed and had sailed out to sea in pursuit, returning daylight showed him that his intended victim had escaped. chapter seventeen. tells of the joys, etcetera, of the professor in the sumatran forests, also of a catastrophe averted. fortunately the weather continued fine at first, and the light wind fair, so that the canoe skimmed swiftly over the wide sea that separates borneo from sumatra. sometimes our travellers proceeded at night when the distance between islets compelled them to do so. at other times they landed on one of these isles when opportunity offered to rest and replenish the water-casks. we will not follow them step by step in this voyage, which occupied more than a week, and during which they encountered without damage several squalls in which a small open boat could not have lived. reaching at last the great island of sumatra--which, like its neighbour borneo, is larger in extent than the british islands--they coasted along southwards, without further delay than was absolutely necessary for rest and refreshment, until they reached a port where they found the steamer of which they were in search just about to start on its return voyage. van der kemp committed his little craft to the care of the captain, who, after vainly advising his friend to take a free passage with him to the straits of sunda, promised to leave the canoe in passing at telok betong. we may add that spinkie was most unwillingly obliged to accompany the canoe. "now, we must remain here till our friend verkimier arrives," said the hermit, turning to nigel after they had watched the steamer out of sight. "i suppose we must," said nigel, who did not at all relish the delay--"of course we must," he added with decision. "i sees no `ob course' about it, massa nadgel," observed moses, who never refrained from offering his opinion from motives of humility, or of respect for his employer. "my 'dvice is to go on an' let de purfesser foller." "but i promised to wait for him," said the hermit, with one of his kindly, half-humorous glances, "and you know i _never_ break my promises." "das true, massa, but you di'n't promise to wait for him for eber an' eber!" "not quite; but of course i meant that i would wait a reasonable time." the negro appeared to meditate for some moments on the extent of a "reasonable" time, for his huge eyes became huger as he gazed frowningly at the ground. then he spoke. "a `reasonable' time, massa, is such an oncertain time--wariable, so to speak, accordin' to the mind that t'inks upon it! hows'eber, if you's _promised_, ob coorse dat's an end ob it; for w'en a man promises, he's bound to stick to it." such devotion to principle was appropriately rewarded the very next day by the arrival of the trading prahu in which the professor had embarked. "we did not expect you nearly so soon," said nigel, as they heartily shook hands. "it vas because zee vind freshen soon after ve set sail--ant, zen, ve made a straight line for zis port, w'ereas you possibly crossed over, ant zen push down zee coast." "exactly so, and that accounts for your overtaking us," said the hermit. "is that the lad baso i see down there with the crew of the prahu?" "it is. you must have some strainch power of attracting frondship, van der kemp, for zee poor yout' is so fond of you zat he began to entreat me to take him, ant he says he vill go on vit zee traders if you refuse to let him follow you." "well, he may come. indeed, we shall be the better for his services, for i had intended to hire a man here to help to carry our things. much of our journeying, you see, must be done on foot." baso, to his great joy, thus became one of the party. we pass over the next few days, which were spent in arranging and packing their provisions, etcetera, in such a way that each member of the party should carry on his shoulders a load proportioned to his strength. in this arrangement the professor, much against his will, was compelled to accept the lightest load in consideration of his liability to dart off in pursuit of creeping things and "bootterflies" at a moment's notice. the least damageable articles were also assigned to him in consideration of his tendency at all times to tumble into bogs and stumble over fallen trees, and lose himself, and otherwise get into difficulties. we also pass over part of the journey from the coast, and plunge with our travellers at once into the interior of sumatra. one evening towards sunset they reached the brow of an eminence which, being rocky, was free from much wood, and permitted of a wide view of the surrounding country. it was covered densely with virgin forest, and they ascended the eminence in order that the hermit, who had been there before, might discover a forest road which led to a village some miles off, where they intended to put up for the night. having ascertained his exact position, van der kemp led his followers down to this footpath, which led through the dense forest. the trees by which they were surrounded were varied and magnificent-- some of them rising clear up seventy and eighty feet without a branch, many of them had superb leafy crowns, under any one of which hundreds of men might have found shelter. others had trunks and limbs warped and intertwined with a wild entanglement of huge creepers, which hung in festoons and loops as if doing their best to strangle their supports, themselves being also encumbered, or adorned, with ferns and orchids, and delicate twining epiphytes. a forest of smaller trees grew beneath this shade, and still lower down were thorny shrubs, rattan-palms, broad-leaved bushes, and a mass of tropical herbage which would have been absolutely impenetrable but for the native road or footpath along which they travelled. "a most suitable abode for tigers, i should think," remarked nigel to the hermit, who walked in front of him--for they marched in single file. "are there any in these parts?" "ay, plenty. indeed, it is because i don't like sleeping in their company that i am so anxious to reach a village." "are zey dangerows?" asked the professor, who followed close on nigel. "well, they are not safe!" replied the hermit. "i had an adventure with one on this very road only two years ago." "indeed! vat vas it?" asked the professor, whose appetite for anecdote was insatiable. "do tell us about it." "with pleasure. it was on a pitch-dark night that it occurred. i had occasion to go to a neighbouring village at a considerable distance, and borrowed a horse from a friend--" "anozer frond!" exclaimed the professor; "vy, van der kemp, zee country seems to be svarming vid your fronds." "i have travelled much in it and made many friends," returned the hermit. "the horse that i borrowed turned out to be a very poor one, and went lame soon after i set out. business kept me longer than i expected, and it was getting dark before i started to return. ere long the darkness became so intense that i could scarcely see beyond the horse's head, and could not distinguish the path. i therefore let the animal find his own way--knowing that he would be sure to do so, for he was going home. as we jogged along, i felt the horse tremble. then he snorted and came to a dead stop, with his feet planted firmly on the ground. i was quite unarmed, but arms would have been useless in the circumstances. suddenly, and fortunately, the horse reared, and next moment a huge dark object shot close past my face--so close that its fur brushed my cheek--as it went with a heavy thud into the jungle on the other side. i knew that it was a tiger and felt that my life, humanly speaking, was due to the rearing of the poor horse." "are ve near to zee spote?" asked the professor, glancing from side to side in some anxiety. "not far from it!" replied the hermit, "but there is not much fear of such an attack in broad daylight and with so large a party." "ve are not a very large party," returned the professor. "i do not zink i would fear much to face a tiger vid my goot rifle, but i do not relish his choomping on me unavares. push on, please." they pushed on and reached the village a little before nightfall. hospitality is a characteristic of the natives of sumatra. the travellers were received with open arms, so to speak, and escorted to the public building which corresponds in some measure to our western town-halls. it was a huge building composed largely of bamboo wooden-planks and wicker-work, with a high thatched roof, and it stood, like all the other houses, on posts formed of great tree-stems which rose eight or ten feet from the ground. "you have frunds here too, i zink," said verkimier to the hermit, as they ascended the ladder leading to the door of the hall. "well, yes--i believe i have two or three." there could be no doubt upon that point, unless the natives were consummate hypocrites, for they welcomed van der kemp and his party with effusive voice, look and gesture, and immediately spread before them part of a splendid supper which had just been prepared; for they had chanced to arrive on a festive occasion. "i do believe," said nigel in some surprise, "that they are lighting up the place with petroleum lamps!" "ay, and you will observe that they are lighting the lamps with congreve matches--at least with matches of the same sort, supplied by the dutch and chinese. many of their old customs have passed away, (among others that of procuring fire by friction), and now we have the appliances of western civilisation to replace them." "no doubt steam is zee cause of zee change," remarked the professor. "that," said nigel, "has a good deal to do with most things--from the singing of a tea-kettle to the explosion of a volcano; though, doubtless, the commercial spirit which is now so strong among men is the proximate cause." "surely dese people mus' be reech," said the professor, looking round him with interest. "they are rich enough--and well off in every respect, save that they don't know very well how to make use of their riches. as you see, much of their wealth is lavished on their women in the shape of ornaments, most of which are of solid gold and silver." there could be little doubt about that, for, besides the ornaments proper, such as the bracelets and rings with which the arms of the young women were covered, and earrings, etcetera,--all of solid gold and native-made--there were necklaces and collars composed of spanish and american dollars and british half-crowns and other coins. in short, these sumatran young girls carried much of the wealth of their parents on their persons, and were entitled to wear it until they should be relegated to the ranks of the married--the supposed-to-be unfrivolous, and the evidently unadorned! as this was a region full of birds, beasts, and insects of many kinds, it was resolved, for the professor's benefit, that a few days should be spent in it. accordingly, the village chief set apart a newly-built house for the visitors' accommodation, and a youth named grogo was appointed to wait on them and act as guide when they wished to traverse any part of the surrounding forest. the house was on the outskirts of the village, a matter of satisfaction to the professor, as it enabled him at once to plunge into his beloved work unobserved by the youngsters. it also afforded him a better opportunity of collecting moths, etcetera, by the simple method of opening his window at night. a mat or wicker-work screen divided the hut into two apartments, one of which was entirely given over to the naturalist and his _materiel_. "i vil begin at vonce," said the eager man, on taking possession. and he kept his word by placing his lamp on a table in a conspicuous position, so that it could be well seen from the outside. then he threw his window wide open, as a general invitation to the insect world to enter! moths, flying beetles, and other creatures were not slow to accept the invitation. they entered by twos, fours, sixes--at last by scores, insomuch that the room became uninhabitable except by the man himself, and his comrades soon retired to their own compartment, leaving him to carry on his work alone. "you enjoy this sort of thing?" said nigel, as he was about to retire. "enchoy it? yes--it is `paradise regained!'" he pinned a giant moth at the moment and gazed triumphant through his blue glasses. "`paradise lost' to the moth, anyhow," said nigel with a nod, as he bade him good-night, and carefully closed the wicker door to check the incursions of uncaptured specimens. being rather tired with the day's journey, he lay down on a mat beside the hermit, who was already sound asleep. but our hero found that sleep was not easily attainable so close to an inexhaustible enthusiast, whose every step produced a rattling of the bamboo floor, and whose unwearied energy enabled him to hunt during the greater part of the night. at length slumber descended on nigel's spirit, and he lay for some time in peaceful oblivion, when a rattling crash awoke him. sitting up he listened, and came to the conclusion that the professor had upset some piece of furniture, for he could hear him distinctly moving about in a stealthy manner, as if on tip-toe, giving vent to a grumble of dissatisfaction every now and then. "what _can_ he be up to now, i wonder?" murmured the disturbed youth, sleepily. the hermit, who slept through all noises with infantine simplicity, made no answer, but a peculiar snort from the negro, who lay not far off on his other side, told that he was struggling with a laugh. "hallo, moses! are you awake?" asked nigel, in a low voice. "ho yes, massa nadgel. i's bin wakin' a good while, larfin' fit to bu'st my sides. de purfesser's been a-goin' on like a mad renoceros for more'n an hour. he's arter suthin', which he can't ketch. listen! you hear 'im goin' round an' round on his tip-toes. dere goes anoder chair. i only hope he won't smash de lamp an' set de house a-fire." "vell, vell; i've missed him zee tence time. nevair mind. have at you vonce more, you aggravating leetle zing!" thus the unsuccessful man relieved his feelings, in a growling tone, as he continued to move about on tip-toe, rattling the bamboo flooring in spite of his careful efforts to move quietly. "why, verkimier, what are you after?" cried nigel at last, loud enough to be heard through the partition. "ah--i am sorry to vake you," he replied, without, however, suspending his hunt. "i have tried my best to make no noice, but zee bamboo floor is--hah! i have 'im at last!" "what is it?" asked nigel, becoming interested. "von leetle bat. he come in vis a moss--" "a what?" "a moss--a big, beautiful moss." "oh! a moth--well?" "vell, i shut zee window, capture zee moss, ant zen i hunt zee bat with my bootterfly-net for an hour, but have only captured him zis moment. ant he is--sooch a--sooch a splendid specimen of a _very_ rar' species, zee _caelops frizii_--gootness! zere goes zee lamp!" the crash that followed told too eloquently of the catastrophe, and broke the slumbers even of the hermit. the whole party sprang up, and entered the naturalist's room with a light, for the danger from fire was great. fortunately the lamp had been extinguished in its fall, so that, beyond an overpowering smell of petroleum and the destruction of a good many specimens, no serious results ensued. after securing the _caelops frithii_, removing the shattered glass, wiping up the oil, and putting chairs and tables on their legs, the professor was urged to go to bed,--advice which, in his excitement, he refused to take until it was suggested that, if he did not, he would be totally unfit for exploring the forest next day. "vy, it is next day already!" he exclaimed, consulting his watch. "just so. now _do_ turn in." "i vill." and he did. chapter eighteen. a trying ordeal--danger threatens and flight again resolved on. when the early birds are singing, and the early mists are scattering, and the early sun is rising to gladden, as with the smile of god, all things with life in earth and sea and sky--then it is that early-rising man goes forth to reap the blessings which his lazy fellow-man fails to appreciate or enjoy. among the early risers that morning was our friend moses. gifted with an inquiring mind, the negro had proceeded to gratify his propensities by making inquiries of a general nature, and thus had acquired, among other things, the particular information that the river on the banks of which the village stood was full of fish. now, moses was an ardent angler. "i lub fishing," he said one day to nigel when in a confidential mood; "i can't tell you how much i lub it. seems to me dat der's nuffin' like it for proggin' a man!" when nigel demanded an explanation of what proggin' meant, moses said he wasn't quite sure. he could "understand t'ings easy enough though he couldn't allers 'splain 'em." on the whole he thought that prog had a compound meaning--it was a combination of poke and pull "wid a flavour ob ticklin' about it," and was rather pleasant. "you see," he continued, "when a leetle fish plays wid your hook, it progs your intellec' an' tickles up your fancy a leetle. when he grabs you, dat progs your hopes a good deal. when a big fish do de same, dat progs you deeper. an' when a real walloper almost pulls you into de ribber, dat progs your heart up into your t'roat, where it stick till you land him." with surroundings and capacities such as we have attempted to describe, it is no wonder that moses sat down on the river-bank and enjoyed himself, in company with a little malay boy, who lent him his bamboo rod and volunteered to show him the pools. but there were no particular pools in that river. it was a succession of pools, and fish swarmed in all of them. there were at least fifteen different species which nothing short of an ichthyologist could enumerate correctly. the line used by moses was a single fibre of bark almost as strong as gut; the hook was a white tinned weapon like a small anchor, supplied by traders, and meant originally for service in the deep sea. the bait was nothing in particular, but, as the fish were not particular, that was of no consequence. the reader will not be surprised, then, when we state that in an hour or so moses had had his heart progged considerably and had filled a large bag with superb fish, with which he returned, perspiring, beaming, and triumphant to breakfast. after breakfast the whole party went forth for what verkimier styled "zee business of zee day," armed with guns, spears, botanical boxes, bags, wallets, and butterfly-nets. in the immediate neighbourhood of the village large clearings in the forest were planted as coffee gardens, each separated from the other for the purpose of isolation, for it seems that coffee, like the potato, is subject to disease. being covered with scarlet flowers these gardens had a fine effect on the landscape when seen from the heights behind the village. passing through the coffee grounds the party was soon in the tangled thickets of underwood through which many narrow paths had been cut. we do not intend to drag our readers through bog and brake during the whole of this day's expedition; suffice it to say that the collection of specimens made, of all kinds, far surpassed the professor's most sanguine expectations, and, as for the others, those who could more or less intelligently sympathise did so, while those who could not were content with the reflected joy of the man of science. at luncheon--which they partook of on the river-bank, under a magnificently umbrageous tree--plans for the afternoon were fixed. "we have kept together long enough, i think," said van der kemp. "those of us who have guns must shoot something to contribute to the national feast on our return." "vell, let us divide," assented the amiable naturalist. indeed he was so happy that he would have assented to anything--except giving up the hunt. "von party can go von vay, anoder can go anoder vay. i vill continue mine business. zee place is more of a paradise zan zee last. ve must remain two or tree veeks." the hermit glanced at nigel. "i fear it is impossible for me to do so," said the latter. "i am pledged to return to batavia within a specified time, and from the nature of the country i perceive it will take all the time at my disposal to reach that place so as to redeem my pledge." "ha! zat is a peety. vell, nevair mind. let us enchoy to-day. com', ve must not vaste more of it in zee mere gratification of our animal natures." acting on this broad hint they all rose and scattered in different groups--the professor going off ahead of his party in his eager haste, armed only with a butterfly-net. now, as the party of natives,--including baso, who carried the professor's biggest box, and grogo, who bore his gun,--did not overtake their leader, they concluded that he must have joined one of the other parties, and, as it was impossible to ascertain which of them, they calmly went hunting on their own account! thus it came to pass that the man of science was soon lost in the depths of that primeval forest! but little cared the enthusiast for that--or, rather, little did he realise it. with perspiration streaming from every pore--except where the pores were stopped by mud--he dashed after "bootterflies" with the wisdom of solomon and the eagerness of a school-boy, and not until the shades of evening began to descend did his true position flash upon him. then, with all the vigour of a powerful intellect and an enlightened mind, he took it in at a glance--and came to a sudden halt. "vat _shall_ i do?" he asked. not even an echo answered, and the animal kingdom was indifferent. "lat me see. i have been vandering avay all dis time. now, i have not'ing to do but right-about-face and vander back." could reasoning be clearer or more conclusive? he acted on it at once, but, after wandering back a long time, he did not arrive at any place or object that he had recognised on the outward journey. meanwhile, as had been appointed, the rest of the party met a short time before dark at the rendezvous where they had lunched. "where is the professor, baso?" asked van der kemp as he came up. baso did not know, and looked at grogo, who also professed ignorance, but both said they thought the professor had gone with nigel. "i thought he was with _you_," said the latter, looking anxiously at the hermit. "he's hoed an' lost his-self!" cried moses with a look of concern. van der kemp was a man of action. "not a moment to lose," he said, and organised the band into several smaller parties, each led by a native familiar with the jungle. "let this be our meeting-place," he said, as they were on the point of starting off together; "and let those of us who have fire-arms discharge them occasionally." meanwhile, the professor was walking at full speed in what he supposed to be--and in truth was--"back." he was not alone, however. in the jungle close beside him a tiger prowled along with the stealthy, lithe, sneaking activity of a cat. by that time it was not absolutely dark, but the forest had assumed a very sombre appearance. suddenly the tiger made a tremendous bound on to the track right in front of the man. whether it had miscalculated the position of its intended victim or not we cannot say, but it crouched for another spring. the professor, almost instinctively, crouched also, and, being a brave man, stared the animal straight in the face without winking! and so the two crouched there, absolutely motionless and with a fixed glare, such as we have often seen in a couple of tom-cats who were mutually afraid to attack each other. what the tiger thought at that critical and crucial moment we cannot tell, but the professor's thoughts were swift, varied, tremendous-- almost sublime, and once or twice even ridiculous! "vat shall i do? deaf stares me in zee face! no veapons! only a net, ant he is _not_ a bootterfly! science, adieu! home of my chilthood, farevell! my moder--hah! zee fusees!" such were a few of the thoughts that burned but found no utterance. the last thought however led to action. verkimier, foolish man! was a smoker. he carried fusees. slowly, with no more apparent motion than the hour-hand on the face of a watch, he let his hand glide into his coat-pocket and took out the box of fusees. the tiger seemed uneasy, but the bold man never for one instant ceased to glare, and no disturbed expression or hasty movement gave the tiger the slightest excuse for a spring. bringing the box up by painfully slow degrees in front of his nose the man opened it, took out a fusee, struck it, and revealed the blue binoculars! the effect on the tiger was instantaneous and astounding. with a demi-volt or backward somersault it hurled itself into the jungle whence it had come with a terrific roar of alarm, and its tail--undoubtedly though not evidently--between its legs! heaving a deep, long-drawn sigh, the professor stood up and wiped his forehead. then he listened intently. "a shote, if mine ears deceive me not!" he said, and listened again. he was right. another shot, much nearer, was heard, and he replied with a shout to which joy as much as strength of lung gave fervour. hurrying along the track--not without occasional side-glances at the jungle--the hero was soon again in the midst of his friends; and it was not until his eyes refused to remain open any longer that he ceased to entertain an admiring circle that night with the details of his face-to-face meeting with a tiger. but verkimier's anticipations in regard to that paradise were not to be realised. the evil passions of a wicked man, with whom he had personally nothing whatever to do, interfered with his plans. in the middle of the night a native malay youth named babu arrived at the village and demanded an interview with the chief. that worthy, after the interview, conducted the youth to the hut where his visitors lived, and, rousing van der kemp without disturbing the others, bade him listen to what the young man had to say. an expression of great anxiety overspread the hermit's usually placid countenance while babu was speaking. "it is fate!" he murmured, as if communing with himself--then, after a pause--"no, there is no such thing as fate. it is, it must be, the will of god. go, young man, mention this to no one. i thank you for the kindness which made you take so long a journey for my sake." "it is not kindness, it is love that makes me serve you," returned the lad earnestly. "every one loves you, van der kemp, because that curse of mankind, _revenge_, has no place in your breast." "strange! how little man does know or guess the secret thoughts of his fellow!" said the hermit with one of his pitiful smiles. "_revenge_ no place in me!--but i thank you, boy, for the kind thought as well as the effort to save me. my life is not worth much to any one. it will not matter, i think, if my enemy should succeed. go now, babu, and god be with you!" "he will surely succeed if you do not leave this place at once," rejoined the youth, in a tone of decision. "baderoon is furious at all times. he is worse than ever just now, because you have thwarted his plans--so it is said--very often. if he knew that _i_ am now thwarting them also, he would hunt me to death. i will not leave you till you are safe beyond his reach." the hermit looked at the lad with kindly surprise. "how comes it," he said, "that you are so much interested in me? i remember seeing you two years ago, but have no recollection of having done you any service." "do you not remember that my mother was ill when you spent a night in our hut, and my little sister was dying? you nursed her, and tried your best to save her, and when you could not save her, and she died, you wept as if the child had been your own. i do not forget that, van der kemp. sympathy is of more value than service." "strangely mistaken again!" murmured the hermit. "who can know the workings of the human mind! self was mixed with my feelings-- profoundly--yet my sympathy with you and your mother was sincere." "we never doubted that," returned babu with a touch of surprise in his tone. "well now, what do you propose to do, as you refuse to leave me?" asked the hermit with some curiosity. "i will go on with you to the next village. it is a large one. the chief man there is my uncle, who will aid me, i know, in any way i wish. i will tell him what i know and have heard of the pirate's intention, of which i have proof. he will order baderoon to be arrested on suspicion when he arrives. then we will detain him till you are beyond his reach. that is not unjust." "true--and i am glad to know by your last words that you are sensitive about the justice of what you propose to do. indifference to pure and simple justice is the great curse of mankind. it is not indeed the root, but it is the fruit of our sins. the suspicion that detains baderoon is more than justified, for i could bring many witnesses to prove that he has vowed to take my life, and i _know_ him to be a murderer." at breakfast-time van der kemp announced to his friends his intention of quitting the village at once, and gave an account of his interview with the malay lad during the night. this, of course, reconciled them to immediate departure,--though, in truth, the professor was the only one who required to be reconciled. "it is _very_ misfortunate," he remarked with a sigh, which had difficulty in escaping through a huge mass of fish and rice. "you see zee vonderful variety of ornizological specimens i could find here, ant zee herbareum, not to mention zee magnificent _amblypodia eumolpus_ ant ozer bootterflies--ach!--a leetle mor' feesh if you please. zanks. my frond, it is a great sacrifice, but i vill go avay viz you, for i could not joostify myself if i forzook you, ant i cannot ask you to remain vile your life is in dancher." "i appreciate your sentiments and sacrifice thoroughly," said the hermit. "so does i," said moses, helping himself to coffee; "but ob course if i didn't it would be all de same. pass de venison, massa nadgel, an' don't look as if you was goin' to gib in a'ready. it spoils my appetite." "you will have opportunities," continued van der kemp, addressing the professor, "to gather a good many specimens as we go along. besides, if you will consent to honour my cave in krakatoa with a visit, i promise you a hearty welcome and an interesting field of research. you have no idea what a variety of species in all the branches of natural history my little island contains." hereupon the hermit proceeded to enter into details of the flora, fauna, and geology of his island-home, and to expatiate in such glowing language on its arboreal and herbal wealth and beauty, that the professor became quite reconciled to immediate departure. "but how," he asked, "am i to get zere ven ve reach zee sea-coast? for your canoe holds only t'ree, as you have told me." "there are plenty of boats to be had. besides, i can send over my own boat for you to the mainland. the distance is not great." "goot. zat vill do. i am happay now." "so," remarked nigel as he went off with moses to pack up, "his `paradise regained' is rather speedily to be changed into paradise forsaken! `off wi' the old love and on wi' the new.' `the expulsive power of a new affection!'" "das true, massa nadgel," observed moses, who entertained profound admiration for anything that sounded like proverbial philosophy. "de purfesser am an affectionit creeter. 'pears to me dat he lubs de whole creation. he kills an' tenderly stuffs 'most eberyt'ing he kin lay hands on. if he could only lay hold ob baderoon an' stuff an' stick him in a moozeum, he'd do good service to my massa an' also to de whole ob mankind." chapter nineteen. a terrible murder and a strange revelation. after letting the chief of the village know that the news just received rendered it necessary that they should proceed at once to the next town--but carefully refraining from going into particulars lest baderoon should by any means be led to suspect their intentions--the party started off about daybreak under the guidance of the malay youth babu. anxious as he was that no evil should befall his friend, nigel could not help wondering that a man of such a calm spirit, and such unquestionable courage, should be so anxious to escape from this pirate. "i can't understand it at all," he said to moses, as they walked through the forest together a little in rear of the party. "no more kin i, massa nadgel," answered the negro, with one of those shakes of the head and glares of solemn perplexity with which he was wont to regard matters that were too deep for him. "surely van der kemp is well able to take care of himself against any single foe." "das true, massa nadgel,--'gainst any half-dozen foes as well." "fear, therefore, cannot be the cause." the negro received this with a quiet chuckle. "no," said he. "massa nebber knowed fear, but ob dis you may be bery sure, massa's _allers_ got good reasons for what he does. one t'ing's sartin, i neber saw him do nuffin' for fear, nor revenge, nor anger, no, nor yet for fun; allers for lub--and," added moses, after a moment's thought, "sometimes for money, when we goes on a tradin' 'spidition--but he don't make much account ob dat." "well, perhaps the mystery may be cleared up in time," said nigel, as they closed up with the rest of the party, who had halted for a short rest and some refreshment. this last consisted largely of fruit, which was abundant everywhere, and a little rice with water from sparkling springs to wash it down. in the afternoon they reached the town--a large one, with a sort of market-place in the centre, which at the time of their arrival was crowded with people. strangers, especially europeans, were not often seen in that region, so that van der kemp and his friends at once attracted a considerable number of followers. among these was one man who followed them about very unobtrusively, usually hanging well in rear of the knot of followers whose curiosity was stronger than their sense of propriety. this man wore a broad sun-hat and had a bandage round his head pulled well over one eye, as if he had recently met with an accident or been wounded. he was unarmed, with the exception of the kriss, or long knife, which every man in that region carries. this was no other than baderoon himself, who had outwitted his enemies, had somehow discovered at least part of their plans, and had hurried on in advance of them to the town, where, disguising himself as described, he awaited their arrival. babu conducted his friends to the presence of his kinsman the chief man of the town, and, having told his story, received a promise that the pirate should be taken up when he arrived and put in prison. meanwhile he appointed to the party a house in which to spend the night. baderoon boldly accompanied the crowd that followed them, saw the house, glanced between the heads of curious natives who watched the travellers while eating their supper, and noted the exact spot on the floor of the building where van der kemp threw down his mat and blanket, thus taking possession of his intended couch! he did not, however, see that the hermit afterwards shifted his position a little, and that babu, desiring to be near his friend, lay down on the vacated spot. in the darkest hour of the night, when even the owls and bats had sought repose, the pirate captain stole out of the brake in which he had concealed himself, and, kriss in hand, glided under the house in which his enemy lay. native houses, as we have elsewhere explained, are usually built on posts, so that there is an open space under the floors, which is available as a store or lumber-room. it is also unfortunately available for evil purposes. the bamboo flooring is not laid so closely but that sounds inside may be heard distinctly by any one listening below. voices were heard by the pirate as he approached, which arrested his steps. they were those of van der kemp and nigel engaged in conversation. baderoon knew that as long as his enemy was awake and conversing he might probably be sitting up and not in a position suitable to his fell purpose. he crouched therefore among some lumber like a tiger abiding its time. "why are you so anxious not to meet this man?" asked nigel, who was resolved, if possible without giving offence, to be at the bottom of the mystery. for some moments the hermit was silent, then in a constrained voice he said slowly--"because revenge burns fiercely in my breast. i have striven to crush it, but cannot. i fear to meet him lest i kill him." "has he, then, done you such foul wrong?" "ay, he has cruelly--fiendishly--done the worst he could. he robbed me of my only child--but i may not talk of it. the unholy desire for vengeance burns more fiercely when i talk. `vengeance is mine, saith the lord.' my constant prayer is that i may not meet him. good-night." as the hermit thus put an abrupt end to the conversation he lay down and drew his blanket over him. nigel followed his example, wondering at what he had heard, and in a few minutes their steady regular breathing told that they were both asleep. then baderoon advanced and counted the bamboo planks from the side towards the centre of the house. when looking between the heads of the people he had counted the same planks above. standing under one he looked up, listened intently for a few seconds, and drew his kriss. the place was almost pitch-dark, yet the blade caught a faint gleam from without, which it reflected on the pirate's face as he thrust the long keen weapon swiftly, yet deliberately, between the bamboos. a shriek, that filled those who heard it with a thrill of horror, rang out on the silent night. at the same moment a gush of warm blood poured over the murderer's face before he could leap aside. instant uproar and confusion burst out in the neighbourhood, and spread like wildfire until the whole town was aroused. when a light was procured and the people crowded into the hut where the strangers lay, van der kemp was found on his knees holding the hand of poor babu, who was at his last gasp. a faint smile, that yet seemed to have something of gladness in it, flitted across his pale face as he raised himself, grasped the hermit's hand and pressed it to his lips. then the fearful drain of blood took effect and he fell back--dead. one great convulsive sob burst from the hermit as he leaped up, drew his knife, and, with a fierce glare in his blue eyes, rushed out of the room. vengeance would indeed have been wreaked on baderoon at that moment if the hermit had caught him, but, as might have been expected, the murderer was nowhere to be found. he was hid in the impenetrable jungle, which it was useless to enter in the darkness of night. when daybreak enabled the towns-people to undertake an organised search, no trace of him could be discovered. flight, personal safety, formed no part of the pirate's plan. the guilty man had reached that state of depravity which, especially among the natives of that region, borders close on insanity. while the inhabitants of the village were hunting far a-field for him, baderoon lay concealed among some lumber in rear of a hut awaiting his opportunity. it was not very long of coming. towards afternoon the various searching parties began to return, and all assembled in the market-place, where the chief man, with the hermit and his party, were assembled discussing the situation. "i will not now proceed until we have buried poor babu," said van der kemp. "besides, baderoon will be sure to return. i will meet him now." "i do not agree viz you, mine frond," said the professor. "zee man is not a fool zough he is a villain. he knows vat avaits him if he comes." "he will not come openly," returned the hermit, "but he will not now rest till he has killed me." even as he spoke a loud shouting, mingled with shrieks and yells, was heard at the other end of the main street. the sounds of uproar appeared to approach, and soon a crowd of people was seen rushing towards the market-place, uttering cries of fear in which the word "amok" was heard. at the sound of that word numbers of people-- specially women and children--turned and fled from the scene, but many of the men stood their ground, and all of them drew their krisses. among the latter of course were the white men and their native companions. we have already referred to that strange madness, to which the malays seem to be peculiarly liable, during the paroxysms of which those affected by it rush in blind fury among their fellows, slaying right and left. from the terrified appearance of some of the approaching crowd and the maniac shouts in rear, it was evident that a man thus possessed of the spirit of amok was venting his fury on them. another minute and he drew near, brandishing a kriss that dripped with the gore of those whom he had already stabbed. catching sight of the white men he made straight for them. he was possessed of only one eye, but that one seemed to concentrate and flash forth the fire of a dozen eyes, while his dishevelled hair and blood-stained face and person gave him an appalling aspect. "it is baderoon!" said van der kemp in a subdued but stern tone. nigel, who stood next to him, glanced at the hermit. his face was deadly pale; his eyes gleamed with a strange almost unearthly light, and his lips were firmly compressed. with a sudden nervous motion, unlike his usually calm demeanour, he drew his long knife, and to nigel's surprise cast it away from him. at that moment a woman who came in the madman's way was stabbed by him to the heart and rent the air with her dying shriek as she fell. no one could have saved her, the act was so quickly done. van der kemp would have leaped to her rescue, but it was too late; besides, there was no need to do so now, for the maniac, recognising his enemy, rushed at him with a shout that sounded like a triumphant yell. seeing this, and that his friend stood unarmed, as well as unmoved, regarding baderoon with a fixed gaze, nigel stepped a pace in advance to protect him, but van der kemp seized his arm and thrust him violently aside. next moment the pirate was upon him with uplifted knife, but the hermit caught his wrist, and with a heave worthy of samson hurled him to the ground, where he lay for a moment quite stunned. before he could recover, the natives, who had up to this moment held back, sprang upon the fallen man with revengeful yells, and a dozen knives were about to be buried in his breast when the hermit sprang forward to protect his enemy from their fury. but the man whose wife had been the last victim came up at the moment and led an irresistible rush which bore back the hermit as well as his comrades, who had crowded round him, and in another minute the maniac was almost hacked to pieces. "i did not kill him--thank god!" muttered van der kemp as he left the market-place, where the relatives of those who had been murdered were wailing over their dead. after this event even the professor was anxious to leave the place, so that early next morning the party resumed their journey, intending to make a short stay at the next village. failing to reach it that night, however, they were compelled to encamp in the woods. fortunately they came upon a hill which, although not very high, was sufficiently so, with the aid of watch-fires, to protect them from tigers. from the summit, which rose just above the tree-tops, they had a magnificent view of the forest. many of the trees were crowned with flowers among which the setting sun shone for a brief space with glorious effulgence. van der kemp and nigel stood together apart from the others, contemplating the wonderful scene. "what must be the dwelling-place of the creator himself when his footstool is so grand?" said the hermit in a low voice. "that is beyond mortal ken," said nigel. "true--true. eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor mind conceived it. yet, methinks, the glory of the terrestrial was meant to raise our souls to the contemplation of the celestial." "and yet how signally it has failed in the case of baderoon," returned nigel, with a furtive glance at the hermit, whose countenance had quite recovered its look of quiet simple dignity. "would it be presumptuous if i were to ask why it is that this pirate had such bitter enmity against you?" "it is no secret," answered the hermit, in a sad tone. "the truth is, i had discovered some of his nefarious plans, and more than once have been the means of preventing his intended deeds of violence--as in the case of the dyaks whom we have so lately visited. besides, the man had done me irreparable injury, and it is one of the curious facts of human experience that sometimes those who injure us hate us because they have done so." "may i venture to ask for a fuller account of the injury he did you?" said nigel with some hesitancy. for some moments the hermit did not answer. he was evidently struggling with some suppressed feeling. turning a look full upon his young friend, he at length spoke in a low sad voice--"i have never mentioned my grief to mortal man since that day when it pleased god to draw a cloud of thickest darkness over my life. but, nigel, there is that in you which encourages confidence. i confess that more than once i have been tempted to tell you of my grief--for human hearts crave intelligent sympathy. my faithful servant and friend moses is, no doubt, intensely sympathetic, but--but--well, i cannot understand, still less can i explain, why i shrink from making a confidant of him. certainly it is not because of his colour, for i hold that the _souls_ of men are colourless!" "i need not trouble you with the story of my early life," continued the hermit. "i lost my dear wife a year after our marriage, and was left with a little girl whose lovely face became more and more like that of her mother every day she lived. my soul was wrapped up in the child. after three years i went with her as a passenger to batavia. on the way we were attacked by a couple of pirate junks. baderoon was the pirate captain. he killed many of our men, took some of us prisoners, sank the vessel, seized my child, and was about to separate us, putting my child into one junk while i was retained, bound, in the other." he paused, and gazed over the glowing tree-tops into the golden horizon, with a longing, wistful look. at the same time something like an electric shock passed through nigel's frame, for was not this narrative strangely similar in its main features to that which his own father had told him on the keeling islands about beautiful little kathleen holbein and her father? he was on the point of seizing the hermit by the hand and telling him what he knew, when the thought occurred that attacks by pirates were common enough in those seas, that other fathers might have lost daughters in this way, and that, perhaps, his suspicion might be wrong. it would be a terrible thing, he thought, to raise hope in his poor friend's breast unless he were pretty sure of the hope being well founded. he would wait and hear more. he had just come to this conclusion, and managed to subdue the feelings which had been aroused, when van der kemp turned to him again, and continued his narrative--"i know not how it was, unless the lord gave me strength for a purpose as he gave it to samson of old, but when i recovered from the stinging blow i had received, and saw the junk hoist her sails and heard my child scream, i felt the strength of a lion come over me; i burst the bonds that held me and leaped into the sea, intending to swim to her. but it was otherwise ordained. a breeze which had sprung up freshened, and the junk soon left me far behind. as for the other junk, i never saw it again, for i never looked back or thought of it--only, as i left it, i heard a mocking laugh from the one-eyed villain, who, i afterwards found out, owned and commanded both junks." nigel had no doubt now, but the agitation of his feelings still kept him silent. "need i say," continued the hermit, "that revenge burned fiercely in my breast from that day forward? if i had met the man soon after that, i should certainly have slain him. but god mercifully forbade it. since then he has opened my eyes to see the crucified one who prayed for his enemies. and up till now i have prayed most earnestly that baderoon and i might _not_ meet. my prayer has not been answered in the way i wished, but a _better_ answer has been granted, for the sin of revenge was overcome within me before we met." van der kemp paused again. "go on," said nigel, eagerly. "how did you escape?" "escape! where was i--oh! i remember," said the hermit, awaking as if out of a dream; "well, i swam after the junk until it was out of sight, and then i swam on in silent despair until so completely exhausted that i felt consciousness leaving me. then i knew that the end must be near and i felt almost glad; but when i began to sink, the natural desire to prolong life revived, and i struggled on. just as my strength began a second time to fail, i struck against something. it was a dead cocoa-nut tree. i laid hold of it and clung to it all that night. next morning i was picked up by some fishermen who were going to telok betong by the outer passage round sebesi island, and were willing to land me there. but as my business connections had been chiefly with the town of anjer, i begged of them to land me on the island of krakatoa. this they did, and it has been my home ever since. i have been there many years." "have you never seen or heard of your daughter since?" asked nigel eagerly, and with deep sympathy. "never--i have travelled far and near, all over the archipelago; into the interior of the islands, great and small, but have failed to find her. i have long since felt that she must be dead--for--for she could not live with the monsters who stole her away." a certain contraction of the mouth, as he said this, and a gleam of the eyes, suggested to nigel that revenge was not yet dead within the hermit's breast, although it had been overcome. "what was her name?" asked nigel, willing to gain time to think how he ought to act, and being afraid of the effect that the sudden communication of the news might have on his friend. "winnie--darling winnie--after her mother," said the hermit with deep pathos in his tone. a feeling of disappointment came over our hero. winnie bore not the most distant resemblance to kathleen! "did you ever, during your search," asked nigel slowly, "visit the cocos-keeling islands?" "never. they are too far from where the attack on us was made." "and you never heard of a gun-boat having captured a pirate junk and--" "why do you ask, and why pause?" said the hermit, looking at his friend in some surprise. nigel felt that he had almost gone too far. "well, you know--" he replied in some confusion, "you--you are right when you expect me to sympathise with your great sorrow, which i do most profoundly, and--and--in short, i would give anything to be able to suggest hope to you, my friend. men should _never_ give way to despair." "thank you. it is kindly meant," returned the hermit, looking at the youth with his sad smile. "but it is vain. hope is dead now." they were interrupted at this point by the announcement that supper was ready. at the same time the sun sank, like the hermit's hope, and disappeared beyond the dark forest. chapter twenty. nigel makes a confidant of moses--undertakes a lonely watch and sees something wonderful. it was not much supper that nigel roy ate that night. the excitement resulting from his supposed discovery reduced his appetite seriously, and the intense desire to open a safety-valve in the way of confidential talk with some one induced a nervously absent disposition which at last attracted attention. "you vant a goot dose of kvinine," remarked verkimier, when, having satiated himself, he found time to think of others--not that the professor was selfish by any means, only he was addicted to concentration of mind on all work in hand, inclusive of feeding. the hermit paid no attention to anything that was said. his recent conversation had given vent to a flood of memories and feelings that had been pent-up for many years. after supper nigel resolved to make a confidant of moses. the negro's fidelity to and love for his master would ensure his sympathy at least, if not wise counsel. "moses," he said, when the professor had raised himself to the seventh heaven by means of tobacco fumes, "come with me. i want to have a talk." "das what i's allers wantin', massa nadgel; talkin's my strong point, if i hab a strong point at all." they went together to the edge of a cliff on the hill-top, whence they could see an almost illimitable stretch of tropical wilderness bathed in a glorious flood of moonlight, and sat down. on a neighbouring cliff, which was crowned with a mass of grasses and shrubs, a small monkey also sat down, on a fallen branch, and watched them with pathetic interest, tempered, it would seem, by cutaneous irritation. "moses, i am sorely in need of advice," said nigel, turning suddenly to his companion with ill-suppressed excitement. "well, massa nadgel, you _does_ look like it, but i'm sorry i ain't a doctor. p'r'aps de purfesser would help you better nor--" "you misunderstand me. can you keep a secret, moses?" "i kin try--if--if he's not too diffikilt to keep." "well, then; listen." the negro opened his eyes and his mouth as if these were the chief orifices for the entrance of sound, and advanced an ear. the distant monkey, observing, apparently, that some unusual communication was about to be made, also stretched out its little head, cocked an ear, and suspended its other operations. then, in low earnest tones, nigel told moses of his belief that van der kemp's daughter might yet be alive and well, and detailed the recent conversation he had had with his master. "now, moses; what d'ye think of all that?" profundity unfathomable sat on the negro's sable brow as he replied, "massa nadgel, i don't bery well know _what_ to t'ink." "but remember, moses, before we go further, that i tell you all this in strict confidence; not a word of it must pass your lips." the awful solemnity with which nigel sought to impress this on his companion was absolutely trifling compared with the expression of that companion's countenance, as, with a long-drawn argumentative and remonstrative _oh_! he replied:-- "massa nadgel. does you really t'ink i would say or do any mortal t'ing w'atsumiver as would injure _my_ massa?" "i'm _sure_ you would not," returned nigel, quickly. "forgive me, moses, i merely meant that you would have to be very cautious--very careful--that you do not let a word slip--by accident, you know--i believe you'd sooner die than do an intentional injury to van der kemp. if i thought you capable of _that_, i think i would relieve my feelings by giving you a good thrashing." the listening monkey cocked its ear a little higher at this, and moses, who had at first raised his flat nose indignantly in the air, gradually lowered it, while a benignant smile supplanted indignation. "you're right dere, massa nadgel. i'd die a t'ousand times sooner dan injure massa. as to your last obserwation, it rouses two idees in my mind. first, i wonder how you'd manidge to gib me a t'rashin', an' second, i wonder if your own moder would rikognise you arter you'd tried it." at this the monkey turned its other ear as if to make quite sure that it heard aright. nigel laughed shortly. "but seriously, moses," he continued; "what do you think i should do? should i reveal my suspicions to van der kemp?" "cer'nly not!" answered the negro with prompt decision. "what! wake up all his old hopes to hab 'em all dashed to bits p'raps when you find dat you's wrong!" "but i feel absolutely certain that i'm _not_ wrong!" returned nigel, excitedly. "consider--there is, first, the one-eyed pirate; second, there is--" "'scuse me, massa nadgel, dere's no occasion to go all ober it again. i'll tell you what you do." "well?" exclaimed nigel, anxiously, while his companion frowned savagely under the force of the thoughts that surged through his brain. "here's what you'll do," said moses. "well?" (impatiently, as the negro paused.) "we're on our way home to krakatoa." "yes--well?" "one ob our men leabes us to-morrer--goes to 'is home on de coast. kitch one ob de steamers dat's allers due about dis time." "well, what of that?" "what ob dat! why, you'll write a letter to your fadder. it'll go by de steamer to batavia. he gits it long before we gits home, so dere's plenty time for 'im to take haction." "but what good will writing to my father do?" asked nigel in a somewhat disappointed tone. "_he_ can't help us." "ho yes, he can," said moses with a self-satisfied nod. "see here, i'll tell you what to write. you begin, `dear fadder--or dearest fadder'-- i's not quite sure ob de strengt' ob your affection. p'raps de safest way." "oh! get on, moses. never mind that." "ho! it's all bery well for you to say dat, but de ole gen'leman'll mind it. hows'ever, put it as you t'ink best--`dear fadder, victual your ship; up anchor; hois' de sails, an' steer for de cocos-keelin' islands. go ashore; git hold ob do young 'ooman called kat'leen hobbleben.'" "holbein, moses." "_what_! is she moses too?" "no, no! get on, man." "well, `dearest fadder, git a hold ob her, whateber her name is, an' carry her off body and soul, an' whateber else b'longs to her. take her to de town ob anjer an' wait dere for furder orders.' ob course for de windin' up o' de letter you must appeal agin to de state ob your affections, for, as--" "not a bad idea," exclaimed nigel. "why, moses, you're a genius! of course i'll have to explain a little more fully." "'splain what you please," said moses. "my business is to gib you de bones ob de letter; yours--bein' a scholar--is to clove it wid flesh." "i'll do it, moses, at once." "i should like," rejoined moses, with a tooth-and-gum-disclosing smile, "to see your fadder when he gits dat letter!" the picture conjured up by his vivid imagination caused the negro to give way to an explosive laugh that sent the eavesdropping monkey like a brown thunderbolt into the recesses of its native jungle, while nigel went off to write and despatch the important letter. next day the party arrived at another village, where, the report of their approach having preceded them, they were received with much ceremony--all the more that the professor's power with the rifle had been made known, and that the neighbourhood was infested by tigers. there can be little doubt that at this part of the journey the travellers must have been dogged all the way by tigers, and it was matter for surprise that so small a party should not have been molested. possibly the reason was that these huge members of the feline race were afraid of white faces, being unaccustomed to them, or, perchance, the appearance and vigorous stride of even a few stalwart and fearless men had intimidated them. whatever the cause, the party reached the village without seeing a single tiger, though their footprints were observed in many places. the wild scenery became more and more beautiful as this village was neared. although flowers as a rule were small and inconspicuous in many parts of the great forest through which they passed, the rich pink and scarlet of many of the opening leaves, and the autumn-tinted foliage which lasts through all seasons of the year, fully made up for the want of them--at least as regards colour, while the whole vegetation was intermingled in a rich confusion that defies description. the professor went into perplexed raptures, his mind being distracted by the exuberant wealth of subjects which were presented to it all at the same time. "look zere!" he cried, at one turning in the path which opened up a new vista of exquisite beauty--"look at zat!" "ay, it is a siamang ape--next in size to the orang-utan," said van der kemp, who stood at his friend's elbow. the animal in question was a fine full-grown specimen, with long jet-black glancing hair. its height might probably have been a few inches over three feet, and the stretch of its arms over rather than under five feet, but at the great height at which it was seen--not less than eighty feet--it looked much like an ordinary monkey. it was hanging in the most easy nonchalant way by one hand from the branch of a tree, utterly indifferent to the fact that to drop was to die! the instant the siamang observed the travellers it set up a loud barking howl which made the woods resound, but it did not alter its position or seem to be alarmed in any degree. "vat a 'straordinary noise!" remarked the professor. "it is indeed," returned the hermit, "and it has an extraordinary appliance for producing it. there is a large bag under its throat extending to its lips and cheeks which it can fill with air by means of a valve in the windpipe. by expelling this air in sudden bursts it makes the varied sounds you hear." "mos' vonderful! a sort of natural air-gun! i vill shoot it," said the professor, raising his deadly rifle, and there is no doubt that the poor siamang would have dropped in another moment if van der kemp had not quietly and gravely touched his friend's elbow just as the explosion took place. "hah! you tooched me!" exclaimed the disappointed naturalist, looking fiercely round, while the amazed ape sent forth a bursting crack of its air-gun as it swung itself into the tree-top and made off. "yes, i touched you, and if you _will_ shoot when i am so close to you, you cannot wonder at it--especially when you intend to take life uselessly. the time now at the disposal of my friend nigel roy will not permit of our delaying long enough to kill and preserve large specimens. to say truth, my friend, we must press on now, as fast as we can, for we have a very long way to go." verkimier was not quite pleased with this explanation, but there was a sort of indescribable power about the hermit, when he was resolved to have his way, that those whom he led found it impossible to resist. on arriving at the village they were agreeably surprised to find a grand banquet, consisting chiefly of fruit, with fowl, rice, and indian corn, spread out for them in the balai or public hall, where also their sleeping quarters were appointed. an event had recently occurred, however, which somewhat damped the pleasure of their reception. a young man had been killed by a tiger. the brute had leaped upon him while he and a party of lads were traversing a narrow path through the jungle, and had killed him with one blow of its paw. the other youths courageously rushed at the beast with their spears and axes, and, driving it off, carried the body of their comrade away. "we have just buried the young man," said the chief of the village, "and have set a trap for the tiger, for he will be sure to visit the grave." "my friends would like to see this trap," said the hermit, who, of course, acted the part of interpreter wherever they went, being well acquainted with most of the languages and dialects of the archipelago. "there will yet be daylight after you have finished eating," said the chief. although anxious to go at once to see this trap, they felt the propriety of doing justice to what had been provided for them, and sat down to their meal, for which, to say truth, they were quite ready. then they went with a large band of armed natives to see this curious tiger-trap, the bait of which was the grave of a human being! the grave was close to the outskirts of the village, and, on one side, the jungle came up to within a few yards of it. the spot was surrounded by a strong and high bamboo fence, except at one point where a narrow but very conspicuous opening had been left. here a sharp spear was so arranged beside the opening that it could be shot across it at a point corresponding with the height of a tiger's heart from the ground--as well, at least, as that point could be estimated by men who were pretty familiar with tigers. the motive power to propel this spear was derived from a green bamboo, so strong that it required several powerful men to bend it in the form of a bow. a species of trigger was arranged to let the bent bow fly, and a piece of fine cord passed from this across the opening about breast-high for a tiger. the intention was that the animal, in entering the enclosure, should become its own executioner-- should commit unintentional suicide, if we may so put it. "i have an ambition to shoot a tiger," said nigel to van der kemp that evening. "do you think the people would object to my getting up into a tree with my rifle and watching beside the grave, part of the night?" "i am sure that they would not. but your watch will probably be in vain, for tigers are uncommonly sagacious creatures and seem to me to have exceptional powers for scenting danger." "no matter, i will try." accordingly, a little before dark that evening our hero borrowed the professor's double-barrelled rifle, being more suitable for large game than his own gun, and sauntered with moses down to the grave where he ensconced himself in the branches of a large tree about thirty feet from the ground. the form of the tree was such, that among its forks nigel could form a sort of nest in which he could sit, in full view of the poor youth's grave, without the risk of falling to the ground even if he should chance to drop asleep. "good-night, massa nadgel," said moses as he turned to leave his companion to his solitary vigil. "see you not go to sleep." "no fear of _that_!" said nigel. "an' whateber you do, don't miss." "i'll do my best--good-night." while there was yet a little daylight, our hunter looked well about him; took note of the exact position of the fence, the entrance to the enclosure, and the grave; judged the various distances of objects, and arranged the sights of the rifle, which was already loaded with a brace of hardened balls. then he looked up through the tree-tops and wished for darkness. it came sooner than he expected. night always descends more suddenly in tropical than in temperate regions. the sun had barely dipped below the horizon when night seemed to descend like a pall over the jungle, and an indescribable sensation of eerieness crept over nigel's spirit. objects became very indistinct, and he fancied that he saw something moving on the newly-made grave. with a startled feeling he grasped his weapon, supposing that the tiger must have entered the enclosure with cat-like stealth. on second thoughts, however, he discarded the idea, for the entrance was between him and the grave, and still seemed quite visible. do what he would, however, the thought of ghosts insisted on intruding upon him! he did not believe in ghosts--oh no!--had always scouted the idea of their existence. why, therefore, did he feel uncomfortable? he could not tell. it must simply be the excitement natural to such a very new and peculiar situation. he would think of something else. he would devote his mind to the contemplation of tigers! in a short time the moon would rise, he knew--then he would be able to see better. while he was in this very uncomfortable state of mind, with the jungle wrapped in profound silence as well as gloom, there broke on the night air a wail so indescribable that the very marrow in nigel's bones seemed to shrivel up. it ceased, but again broke forth louder than before, increasing in length and strength, until his ears seemed to tingle with the sound, and then it died away to a sigh of unutterable woe. "i have always," muttered nigel, "believed myself to be a man of ordinary courage, but _now_--i shall write myself a coward, if not an ass!" he attempted to laugh at this pleasantry, but the laugh was hollow and seemed to freeze in his gullet as the wail broke forth again, ten times more hideous than at first. after a time the wail became more continuous, and the watcher began to get used to it. then a happy thought flashed into his mind--this was, perhaps, some sort of mourning for the dead! he was right. the duty of the father of the poor youth who had been killed was, for several days after the funeral, to sit alone in his house and chant from sunset till daybreak a death-dirge, or, as it is called, the _tjerita bari_. it was not till next day that this was told to him, but meanwhile the surmise afforded him instantaneous relief. as if nature sympathised with his feelings, the moon arose at the same time and dispelled the thick darkness, though it was not till much later that, sailing across a clear sky, she poured her bright beams through the tree-tops and finally rested on the dead man's grave. by that time nigel had quite recovered his equanimity, and mentally blotted out the writing of "coward" and "ass" which he had written against himself. but another trouble now assailed him. he became sleepy! half-a-dozen times at least within half-an-hour he started wide awake under the impression that he was falling off the tree. "this will never do," he exclaimed, rising to his feet, resting his rifle in a position of safety, and then stretching himself to his utmost extent so that he became thoroughly awake. after this "rouser," as he called it, he sat down again, and almost immediately fell fast asleep. how long he sat in this condition it is impossible to say, but he opened his eyes at length with an indescribable sensation that _something_ required attention, and the first thing they rested on, (for daylight was dawning), was an enormous tiger not forty yards away from him, gliding like a shadow and with cat-like stealth towards the opening of the enclosure. the sight was so sudden and so unexpected that, for the moment, he was paralysed. perhaps he thought it was a dream. before he could recover presence of mind to seize his rifle, the breast of the animal had touched the fatal line; the trigger was drawn; the stout bamboo straightened with a booming sound, and the spear--or, rather, the giant arrow--was shot straight through the tiger's side! then occurred a scene which might well have induced nigel to imagine that he dreamt, for the transfixed creature bounded into the enclosure with a terrific roar that rang fearfully through the arches of the hitherto silent forest. rushing across the grave, it sprang with one tremendous bound right over the high fence, carrying the spear along with it into the jungle beyond. by that time nigel was himself again, with rifle in hand, but too late to fire. the moment he heard the thud of the tiger's descent, he slid down the tree, and, forgetful or regardless of danger,--went crashing into the jungle, while the yells and shouts of hundreds of aroused natives suggested the peopling of the region with an army of fiends. but our hero had not to go far. in his haste he almost tumbled over the tiger. it was lying stone dead on the spot where it had fallen! a few minutes more and the natives came pouring round him, wild with excitement and joy. soon he was joined by his own comrades. "well, you've managed to shoot him, i see," said van der kemp as he joined the group. "alas! no. i have not fired a shot," said nigel, with a half disappointed look. "you's got de better ob him anyhow," remarked moses as he pushed to the front. "the spear got the better of him, moses." "vell now, zat is a splendid animal. lat me see," said the professor, pulling out his tape-measure. it was with difficulty that the man of science made and noted his measurements, for the people were pressing eagerly round the carcase to gratify their revenge by running their spears into the still warm body. they dipped the points in the blood and passed their krisses broadside over the creature that they might absorb the courage and boldness which were supposed to emanate from it! then they skinned it, and pieces of the heart and brain were eaten raw by some of those whose relatives had been killed by tigers. finally the skull was hacked to pieces for the purpose of distributing the teeth, which are used by the natives as charms. chapter twenty one. in which the professor distinguishes himself. leaving this village immediately after the slaying of the tiger, the party continued to journey almost by forced marches, for not only was nigel roy very anxious to keep tryst with his father, and to settle the question of kathleen's identity by bringing father and daughter together, but van der kemp himself, strange to say, was filled with intense and unaccountable anxiety to get back to his island-home. "i don't know how it is," he said to nigel as they walked side by side through the forest, followed by moses and the professor, who had become very friendly on the strength of a certain amount of vacant curiosity displayed by the former in regard to scientific matters--"i don't know how it is, but i feel an unusually strong desire to get back to my cave. i have often been absent from home for long periods at a time, but have never before experienced these strange longings. i say strange, because there is no such thing as an effect without a cause." "may not the cause be presentiment?" suggested nigel, who, knowing what a tremendous possibility for the hermit lay in the future, felt a little inclined to be superstitious. it did not occur to him just then that an equally, if not more, tremendous possibility lay in the future for himself--touching his recent discovery or suspicion! "i do not believe in presentiments," returned the hermit. "they are probably the result of indigestion or a disordered intellect, from neither of which complaints do i suffer--at least not consciously!" "but you have never before left home in such peculiar circumstances," said nigel. "have you not told me that this is the first time for about two hundred years that krakatoa has broken out in active eruption?" "true, but that cannot be to me the cause of longings or anxieties, for i have seen many a long-dormant crater become active without any important result either to me or to any one else." "stop, stop!" cried professor verkimier in a hoarse whisper at that moment; "look! look at zee monkeys!" monkeys are very abundant in sumatra, but the nest of them which the travellers discovered at that time, and which had called forth the professor's admiration, was enough--as moses said--to make a "renocerus laugh." the trees around absolutely swarmed with monkeys; those of a slender form and with very long tails being most numerous. they were engaged in some sort of game, swinging by arms, legs, and tails from branches, holding on to or chasing each other, and taking the most astonishing leaps in circumstances where a slip would have no doubt resulted in broken limbs or in death. "stand still! oh! _do_ stand still--like you vas petrivied," said the professor in a low voice of entreaty. being quite willing to humour him, the whole party stood immovable, like statues, and thus avoided attracting the attention of the monkeys, who continued their game. it seemed to be a sort of "follow my leader," for one big strong fellow led off with a bound from one branch to another which evidently tried the nerves of his more timid and less agile companions. they all succeeded, however, from the largest even to the smallest--which last was a very tiny creature with a pink face, a sad expression, and a corkscrew tail. for a time they bounded actively among the branches, now high, now low, till suddenly the big leader took a tremendous leap, as if for the express purpose of baffling or testing his companions. it was immensely amusing to see the degrees of trepidation with which the others followed. the last two seemed quite unable to make up their minds to the leap, until the others seemed about to disappear, when one of them took heart and bounded wildly across. thus little pink-face with the corkscrew tail was left alone! twice did that little monkey make a desperate resolution to jump, and twice did its little heart fail as it measured the distance between the branches and glanced at the abyss below. its companions seemed to entertain a feeling of pity for it. numbers of them came back, as if to watch the jump and encourage the little one. a third time it made an abortive effort to spring, and looked round pitifully, whereupon moses gave vent to an uncontrollable snort of suppressed laughter. "vat you mean by zat?" growled the professor angrily. the growl and snort together revealed the intruders, and all the monkeys, except pink-face, crowding the trees above the spot where they stood, gazed down upon them with expressions in which unparalleled indignation and inconceivable surprise struggled for the mastery. then, with a wild shriek, the whole troop fled into the forest. this was too much for poor, half-petrified pink-face with the twisted tail. seeing that its comrades were gone in earnest, it became desperate, flung itself frantically into the air with an agonising squeak, missed its mark, went crashing through the slender branches and fell to the ground. fortunately these branches broke its fall so that it arose unhurt, bounded into a bush, still squeaking with alarm, and made after its friends. "why did you not shoot it, professor?" asked nigel, laughing as much at verkimier's grave expression as at the little monkey's behaviour. "vy did i not shot it?" echoed the professor. "i vould as soon shot a baby. zee pluck of zat leetle creature is admirable. it vould be a horrible shame to take his life. no! i do love to see ploock vezer in man or beast! he could not shoomp zat. he _knew_ he could not shoomp it, but he _tried_ to shoomp it. he vould not be beat, an' i vould not kill him--zough i vant 'im very mooch for a specimen." it seemed as if the professor was to be specially rewarded for his self-denial on this occasion, for while he was yet speaking, a soft "hush!" from van der kemp caused the whole party to halt in dead silence and look at the hermit inquiringly. "you are in luck, professor," he murmured, in a soft, low voice--very different from that hissing whisper which so many people seem to imagine is an inaudible utterance. "i see a splendid argus pheasant over there making himself agreeable to his wife!" "vare? oh! vare?" exclaimed the enthusiast with blazing eyes, for although he had already seen and procured specimens of this most beautiful creature, he had not yet seen it engage in the strange love-dance--if we may so call it--which is peculiar to the bird. "you'll never get near enough to see it if you hiss like a serpent," said the hermit. "get out your binoculars, follow me, and hold your tongue, all of you--that will be the safest plan. tread lightly." it was a sight to behold the professor crouching almost double in order to render himself less conspicuous, with his hat pushed back, and the blue glasses giving him the appearance of a great-eyed seal. he carried his butterfly-net in one hand, and the unfailing rifle in the other. fortunately the hermit's sharp and practised eye had enabled him to distinguish the birds in the distance before their advance had alarmed them, so that they were able to reach a mound topped with low bushes over which they could easily watch the birds. "zat is very koorious an' most interesting," murmured the professor after a short silence. he was right. there were two argus pheasants, a male and female--the male alone being decorated superbly. the argus belongs to the same family as the peacock, but is not so gaudy in colouring, and therefore, perhaps, somewhat more pleasing. its tail is formed chiefly by an enormous elongation of the two tail quills, and of the secondary wing feathers, no two of which are exactly the same, and the closer they are examined the greater is seen to be the extreme beauty of their markings, and the rich varied harmony of their colouring. when a male argus wishes to show off his magnificence to his spouse--or when she asks him to show it off we know not which--he makes a circle in the forest some ten or twelve feet in diameter, which he clears of every leaf, twig, and branch. on the margin of this circus there is invariably a projecting branch, or overarching root a few feet above the ground, on which the female takes her place to watch the exhibition. this consists of the male strutting about, pluming his feathers, and generally displaying his gorgeous beauty. "vat ineffable vanity!" exclaimed the professor, after gazing for some time in silence. his own folly in thus speaking was instantly proved by the two birds bringing the exhibition to an abrupt close and hastily taking wing. not long after seeing this they came to a small but deep and rapid river, which for a time checked their progress, for there was no ford, and the porters who carried verkimier's packages seemed to know nothing about a bridge, either natural or artificial. after wandering for an hour or so along its banks, however, they found a giant tree which had fallen across the stream, and formed a natural bridge. on the other side of the stream the ground was more rugged and the forest so dense that they had to walk in a sort of twilight--only a glimpse of blue sky being visible here and there through the tree-tops. in some places, however, there occurred bright little openings which swarmed with species of metallic tiger-beetles and sand-bees, and where sulphur, swallow-tailed, and other butterflies sported their brief life away over the damp ground by the water's edge. the native forest path which they followed was little better than a tunnel cut through a grove of low rattan-palms, the delicate but exceedingly tough tendrils of which hung down in all directions. these were fringed with sharp hooks which caught their clothing and tore it, or held on unrelentingly, so that the only way of escape was to step quietly back and unhook themselves. this of itself would have rendered their progress slow as well as painful, but other things tended to increase the delay. at one place they came to a tree about seven feet in diameter which lay across the path and had to be scrambled over, and this was done with great difficulty. at another, a gigantic mud-bath-- the wallowing hole of a herd of elephants--obstructed the way, and a yell from one of the porters told that in attempting to cross it he had fallen in up to the waist. a comrade in trying to pull him out also fell in and sank up to the armpits. but they got over it--as resolute men always do--somehow! "zis is horrible!" exclaimed the professor, panting from his exertions, and making a wild plunge with his insect-net at some living creature. "hah! zee brute! i have 'im." the man of science was flat on his stomach as he spoke, with arm outstretched and the net pressed close to the ground, while a smile of triumph beamed through the mud and scratches on his face. "what have you got?" asked nigel, doing his best to restrain a laugh. "a splendid _ornit'optera_ a day-flying moss," said verkimier as he cautiously rose, "vich mimics zee _trepsichrois mulciber_. ant zis very morning i caught von _leptocircus virescens_, vich derives protection from mimicking zee habits ant appearance of a dragon-fly." "what rubbish dat purfesser do talk!" remarked moses in an undertone to the hermit as they moved on again. "not such rubbish as it sounds to you, moses. these are the scientific names of the creatures, and you know as well as he does that many creatures think they find it advantageous to pretend to be what they are not. man himself is not quite free from this characteristic. indeed, you have a little of it yourself," said the hermit with one of his twinkling glances. "when you are almost terrified out of your wits don't you pretend that there's nothing the matter with you?" "nebber, massa, nebber!" answered the negro with remonstrative gravity. "when i's nigh out ob my wits, so's my innards feels like nuffin' but warmish water, i gits whitey-grey in de chops, so i's told, an' blue in de lips, an' i _pretends_ nuffin'--i don't care _who_ sees it!" the track for some distance beyond this point became worse and worse. then the nature of the ground changed somewhat--became more hilly, and the path, if such it could be styled, more rugged in some places, more swampy in others, while, to add to their discomfort, rain began to fall, and night set in dark and dismal without any sign of the village of which they were in search. by that time the porters who carried verkimier's boxes seemed so tired that the hermit thought it advisable to encamp, but the ground was so wet and the leeches were so numerous that they begged him to go on, assuring him that the village could not be far distant. in another half-hour the darkness became intense, so that a man could scarcely see his fellow, even when within two paces of him. ominous mutterings and rumblings like distant thunder also were heard, which appeared to indicate an approaching storm. in these circumstances encamping became unavoidable, and the order was given to make a huge fire to scare away the tigers, which were known to be numerous, and the elephants whose fresh tracks had been crossed and followed during the greater part of the day. the track of a rhinoceros and a tapir had also been seen, but no danger was to be anticipated from those creatures. "shall we have a stormy night, think you?" asked nigel, as he assisted in striking a light. "it may be so," replied the hermit, flinging down one after another of his wet matches, which failed to kindle. "what we hear may be distant thunder, but i doubt it. the sounds seem to me more like the mutterings of a volcano. some new crater may have burst forth in the sumatran ranges. this thick darkness inclines me to think so--especially after the new activity of volcanic action we have seen so recently at krakatoa. let me try your matches, nigel, perhaps they have escaped-- mine are useless." but nigel's matches were as wet as those of the hermit. so were those of the professor. luckily moses carried the old-fashioned flint and steel, with which, and a small piece of tinder, spark was at last kindled, but as they were about to apply it to a handful of dry bamboo scrapings, an extra spurt of rain extinguished it. for an hour and more they made ineffectual attempts to strike a light. even the cessation of the rain was of no avail. "vat must ve do _now_?" asked the professor in tones that suggested a woe-begone countenance, though there was no light by which to distinguish. "grin and bear it," said nigel, in a voice suggestive of a slight expansion of the mouth--though no one could see it. "dere's nuffin' else left to do," said moses, in a tone which betrayed such a very wide expansion that nigel laughed outright. "hah! you may laugh, my yoong frond, bot if zee tigers find us out or zee elephants trample on us, your laughter vill be turned to veeping. vat is zat? is not zat vonderful?" the question and exclamation were prompted by the sudden appearance of faint mysterious lights among the bushes. that the professor viewed them as unfriendly lights was clear from the click of his rifle-locks which followed. "it is only phosphoric light," explained van der kemp. "i have often seen it thus in electric states of the atmosphere. it will probably increase--meanwhile we must seat ourselves on our boxes and do the best we can till daylight. are you there, boys?" this question, addressed to the bearers in their native tongue, was not answered, and it was found, on a _feeling_ examination, that, in spite of leeches, tigers, elephants, and the whole animal creation, the exhausted porters had flung themselves on the wet ground and gone to sleep while their leaders were discussing the situation. dismal though the condition of the party was, the appearances in the forest soon changed the professor's woe into eager delight, for the phosphorescence became more and more pronounced, until every tree-stem blinked with a palish green light, and it trickled like moonlight over the ground, bringing out thick dumpy mushrooms like domes of light. glowing caterpillars and centipedes crawled about, leaving a trail of light behind them, and fireflies, darting to and fro, peopled the air and gave additional animation to the scene. in the midst of the darkness, thus made singularly visible, the white travellers sat dozing and nodding on their luggage, while the cries of metallic-toned horned frogs and other nocturnal sounds peculiar to that weird forest formed their appropriate lullaby. but moses neither dozed nor nodded. with a pertinacity peculiarly his own he continued to play a running accompaniment to the lullaby with his flint and steel, until his perseverance was rewarded with a spark which caught on a dry portion of the tinder and continued to burn. by that time the phosphoric lights had faded, and his spark was the only one which gleamed through intense darkness. how he cherished that spark! he wrapped it in swaddling clothes of dry bamboo scrapings with as much care as if it had been the essence of his life. he blew upon it tenderly as though to fan its delicate brow with the soft zephyrs of a father's affection. again he blew more vigorously, and his enormous pouting lips came dimly into view. another blow and his flat nose and fat cheeks emerged from darkness. still another--with growing confidence--and his huge eyes were revealed glowing with hope. at last the handful of combustible burst into a flame, and was thrust into a prepared nest of twigs. this, communicating with a heap of logs, kindled a sudden blaze which scattered darkness out of being, and converted thirty yards of the primeval forest into a chamber of glorious light, round which the human beings crowded with joy enhanced by the unexpectedness of the event, and before which the wild things of the wilderness fled away. when daylight came at last, they found that the village for which they had been searching was only two miles beyond the spot where they had encamped. here, being thoroughly exhausted, it was resolved that they should spend that day and night, and, we need scarcely add, they spent a considerable portion of both in sleep--at least such parts of both as were not devoted to food. and here the professor distinguished himself in a way that raised him greatly in the estimation of his companions and caused the natives of the place to regard him as something of a demi-god. of course we do not vouch for the truth of the details of the incident, for no one save himself was there to see, and although we entertained the utmost regard for himself, we were not sufficiently acquainted with his moral character to answer for his strict truthfulness. as to the main event, there was no denying that. the thing happened thus:-- towards the afternoon of that same day the travellers began to wake up, stretch themselves, and think about supper. in the course of conversation it transpired that a tiger had been prowling about the village for some days, and had hitherto successfully eluded all attempts to trap or spear it. they had tethered a goat several times near a small pond and watched the spot from safe positions among the trees, with spears, bows and arrows, and blow-pipes ready, but when they watched, the tiger did not come, and when they failed to watch, the tiger did come and carried off the goat. thus they had been baffled. "mine frond," said the professor to the hermit on hearing this. "i vill shot zat tiger! i am resolved. vill you ask zee chief to show me zee place ant zen tell his people, on pain of def, not to go near it all night, for if zey do i vill certainly shot zem--by accident of course!" the hermit did as he was bid, but advised his sanguine friend against exposing himself recklessly. the chief willingly fell in with his wishes. "won't you tell us what you intend to do, professor?" asked nigel, "and let us help you." "no, i vill do it all by mineself--or die! i vill vant a shofel or a spade of some sort." the chief provided the required implement, conducted his visitor a little before sunset to the spot, just outside the village, and left him there armed with his rifle, a revolver, and a long knife or kriss, besides the spade. when alone, the bold man put off his glasses, made a careful inspection of the ground, came to a conclusion--founded on scientific data no doubt--as to the probable spot whence the tiger would issue from the jungle when about to seize the goat, and, just opposite that spot, on the face of a slope about ten yards from the goat, he dug a hole deep enough to contain his own person. the soil was sandy easy to dig, and quite dry. it was growing dusk when the professor crept into this rifle-pit, drew his weapons and the spade in after him, and closed the mouth of the pit with moist earth, leaving only a very small eye-hole through which he could see the goat standing innocently by the brink of the pool. "now," said he, as he lay resting on his elbows with the rifle laid ready to hand and the revolver beside it; "now, i know not vezer you can smell or not, but i have buried mineself in eart', vich is a non-conductor of smell. ve shall see!" it soon became very dark, for there was no moon, yet not so dark but that the form of the goat could be seen distinctly reflected in the pond. naturally the professor's mind reverted to the occasion when nigel had watched in the branches of a tree for another tiger. the conditions were different, and so, he thought, was the man! "mine yoong frond," he said mentally, "is brav', oondoubtedly, but his nerves have not been braced by experience like mine. it is vell, for zere is more dancher here zan in a tree. it matters not. i am resolf to shot zat tigre--or die!" in this resolute and heroic frame of mind he commenced his vigil. it is curious to note how frequently the calculations of men fail them-- even those of scientific men! the tiger came indeed to the spot, but he came in precisely the opposite direction from that which the watcher expected, so that while verkimier was staring over the goat's head at an opening in the jungle beyond the pond, the tiger was advancing stealthily and slowly through the bushes exactly behind the hole in which he lay. suddenly the professor became aware of _something_! he saw nothing consciously, he heard nothing, but there stole over him, somehow, the feeling of a dread presence! was he asleep? was it nightmare? no, it was night-tiger! he knew it, somehow; he _felt_ it--but he could not see it. to face death is easy enough--according to some people--but to face nothing at all is at all times trying. verkimier felt it to be so at that moment. but he was a true hero and conquered himself. "come now," he said mentally, "don't be an ass! don't lose your shance by voomanly fears. keep kviet." another moment and there was a very slight sound right over his head. he glanced upwards--as far as the little hole would permit--and there, not a foot from him, was a tawny yellow throat! with a tremendous paw moving slowly forward--so slowly that it might have suggested the imperceptible movement of the hour-hand of a watch, or of a glacier. there was indeed motion, but it was not perceptible. the professor's perceptions were quick. he did not require to think. he knew that to use the rifle at such close quarters was absolutely impossible. he knew that the slightest motion would betray him. he could see that as yet he was undiscovered, for the animal's nose was straight for the goat, and he concluded that either his having buried himself was a safeguard against being smelt, or that the tiger had a cold in its head. he thought for one moment of bursting up with a yell that would scare the monster out of his seven senses--if he had seven-- but dismissed the thought as cowardly, for it would be sacrificing success to safety. he knew not what to do, and the cold perspiration consequent upon indecision at a supreme moment broke out all over him. suddenly he thought of the revolver! like lightning he seized it, pointed it straight up and fired. the bullet--a large army revolver one--entered the throat of the animal, pierced the root of the tongue, crashed through the palate obliquely, and entered the brain. the tiger threw one indescribable somersault and fell--fell so promptly that it blocked the mouth of the pit, all the covering earth of which had been blown away by the shot, and verkimier could feel the hairy side of the creature, and hear the beating of its heart as it gasped its life away. but in his cramped position he could not push it aside. well aware of the tenacity of life in tigers, he thought that if the creature revived it would certainly grasp him even in its dying agonies, for the weight of its body and its struggles were already crushing in the upper part of the hole. to put an end to its sufferings and his own danger, he pointed the revolver at its side and again fired. the crash in the confined hole was tremendous--so awful that the professor thought the weapon must have burst. the struggles of the tiger became more violent than ever, and its weight more oppressive as the earth crumbled away. again the cold perspiration broke out all over the man, and he became unconscious. it must not be supposed that the professor's friends were unwatchful. although they had promised not to disturb him in his operations, they had held themselves in readiness with rifle, revolver, and spear, and the instant the first shot was heard, they ran down to the scene of action. before reaching it the second shot quickened their pace as they ran down to the pond--a number of natives yelling and waving torches at their heels. "here he is," cried moses, who was first on the scene, "dead as mutton!" "what! the professor?" cried nigel in alarm. "no; de tiger." "where's verkimier?" asked the hermit as he came up. "i dun know, massa," said moses, looking round him vacantly. "search well, men, and be quick, he may have been injured," cried van der kemp, seizing a torch and setting the example. "let me out!" came at that moment from what appeared to be the bowels of the earth, causing every one to stand aghast gazing in wonder around and on each other. "zounds! vy don't you let me _out_?" shouted the voice again. there was an indication of a tendency to flight on the part of the natives, but nigel's asking "where _are_ you?" had the effect of inducing them to delay for the answer. "here--oonder zee tigre! kweek, i am suffocat!" instantly van der kemp seized the animal by the tail, and, with a force worthy of hercules, heaved it aside as if it had been a dead cat, revealing the man of science underneath--alive and well, but dishevelled, scratched, and soiled--also, as deaf as a door-post. chapter twenty two. a python discovered and a geyser interviewed. "it never rains but it pours" is a well-known proverb which finds frequent illustration in the experience of almost every one. at all events verkimier had reason to believe in the truth of it at that time, for adventures came down on him, as it were, in a sort of deluge, more or less astounding, insomuch that his enthusiastic spirit, bathing, if we may say so, in an ocean of scientific delight, pronounced sumatra to be the very paradise of the student of nature. we have not room in this volume to follow him in the details of his wonderful experiences, but we must mention one adventure which he had on the very day after the tiger-incident, because it very nearly had the effect of separating him from his travelling companions. being deaf, as we have said--owing to the explosion of his revolver in the hole--but not necessarily dumb, the professor, after one or two futile attempts to hear and converse, deemed it wise to go to bed and spend the few conscious minutes that might precede sleep in watching van der kemp, who kindly undertook to skin his tiger for him. soon the self-satisfied man fell into a sweet infantine slumber, and dreamed of tigers, in which state he gave vent to sundry grunts, gasps, and half-suppressed cries, to the immense delight of moses, who sat watching him, indulging in a running commentary suggestive of the recent event, and giving utterance now and then to a few imitative growls by way of enhancing the effect of the dreams! "look! look! massa nadgel, he's twitchin' all ober. de tiger's comin' to him now." "looks like it, moses." "yes--an', see, he grip de 'volver--no, too soon, or de tiger's hoed away, for he's stopped twitchin'!--dare; de tiger comes agin!" a gasp and clenching of the right hand seemed to warrant this assumption. then a yell rang through the hut; moses displayed all, and more than all his teeth, and the professor, springing up on one elbow, glared fearfully. "i'n't it awrful?" inquired moses in a low tone. the professor awoke mentally, recognised the situation, smiled an imbecile smile, and sank back again on his pillow with a sigh of relief. after that, when the skinning of the tiger was completed, the dreams appeared to leave him, and all his comrades joined him in the land of nod. he was first to awake when daylight entered their hut the following morning, and, feeling in a fresh, quiescent state of mind after the excitement of the preceding night, he lay on his back, his eyes fixed contentedly on the grand tiger-skin which hung on the opposite wall. by degrees his eyes grew wearied of that object, and he allowed them to travel languidly upwards and along the roof until they rested on the spot directly over his head, where they became fixed, and, at the same time, opened out to a glare, compared to which all his previous glaring was as nothing--for there, in the thatch, looking down upon him, was the angular head of a huge python. the snake was rolled up in a tight coil, and had evidently spent the night within a yard of the professor's head! being unable to make out what sort of snake it was, and fearing that it might be a poisonous one, he crept quietly from his couch, keeping his eyes fixed on the reptile as he did so. one result of this mode of action was that he did not see where he was going, and inadvertently thrust one finger into moses' right eye, and another into his open mouth. the negro naturally shut his mouth with a snap, while the professor opened his with a roar, and in another moment every man was on his feet blinking inquiringly. "look! zee snake!" cried the professor, when moses released him. "we must get him out of that," remarked van der kemp, as he quietly made a noose with a piece of rattan, and fastened it to the end of a long pole. with the latter he poked the creature up, and, when it had uncoiled sufficiently, he slipped the noose deftly over its head. "clear out, friends," he said, looking round. all obeyed with uncommon promptitude except the professor, who valiantly stood his ground. van der kemp pulled the python violently down to the floor, where it commenced a tremendous scuffle among the chairs and posts. the hermit kept its head off with the pole, and sought to catch its tail, but failed twice. seeing this the professor caught the tail as it whipped against his legs, and springing down the steps so violently that he snapped the cord by which the hermit held it, and drew the creature straight out--a thick monster full twelve feet long, and capable of swallowing a dog or a child. "out of zee way!" shouted the professor, making a wild effort to swing the python against a tree, but the tail slipped from his grasp, the professor fell, and the snake went crashing against a log, under which it took refuge. nigel, who was nearest to it, sprang forward, fortunately caught its tail, and, swinging it and himself round with such force that it could not coil up at all, dashed it against a tree. before it could recover from the shock, moses had caught up a hatchet and cut its head off with one blow. the tail wriggled for a few seconds, and the head gaped once or twice, as if in mild surprise at so sudden a finale. "zat is strainch--very strainch," slowly remarked the professor, as, still seated on the ground, he solemnly noted these facts. "not so _very_ strange, after all," said van der kemp; "i've seen the head of many a bigger snake cut off at one blow." "mine frond, you mistake me. it is zee vorking of physical law in zee spiritual vorld zat perplexes me. moses has cut zee brute in two-- physical fact, substance can be divided. zee two parts are still alife, zerfore, zee life--zee spirit--has also been divided!" "it is indeed very strange," said nigel, with a laugh. "stranger still that you may cut a worm into several parts, and the life remains in each, but, strangest of all, that you should sit on the ground, professor, instead of rising up, while you philosophise. you are not hurt, i hope--are you?" "i razer zink i am," returned the philosopher with a faint smile; "mine onkle, i zink, is spraint." this was indeed true, and it seemed as if the poor man's wanderings were to be, for a time at least, brought to an abrupt close. fortunately it was found that a pony could be procured at that village, and, as they had entered the borders of the mountainous regions, and the roads were more open and passable than heretofore, it was resolved that the professor should ride until his ankle recovered. we must now pass over a considerable portion of time and space, and convey the reader, by a forced march, to the crater of an active volcano. by that time verkimier's ankle had recovered and the pony had been dismissed. the heavy luggage, with the porters, had been left in the low grounds, for the mountain they had scaled was over , feet above the sea-level. only one native from the plain below accompanied them as guide, and three of their porters whose inquiring minds tempted them to make the ascent. at about , feet the party reached what the natives called the dempo or edge of the volcano, whence they looked down into the sawah or ancient crater, which was a level space composed of brown soil surrounded by cliffs, and lying like the bottom of a cup feet below them. it had a sulphurous odour, and was dotted here and there with clumps of heath and rhododendrons. in the centre of this was a cone which formed the true--or modern--crater. on scrambling up to the lip of the cone and looking down some feet of precipitous rock they beheld what seemed to be a pure white lake set in a central basin of feet in diameter. the surface of this lakelet smoked, and although it reflected every passing cloud as if it were a mirror, it was in reality a basin of hot mud, the surface of which was about thirty feet below its rim. "you will soon see a change come over it," said the hermit, as the party gazed in silent admiration at the weird scene. he had scarcely spoken, when the middle of the lake became intensely black and scored with dark streaks. this, though not quite obvious at first from the point where they stood, was caused by the slow formation of a great chasm in the centre of the seething lake of mud. the lake was sinking into its own throat. the blackness increased. then a dull sullen roar was heard, and next moment the entire lake upheaved, not violently, but in a slow, majestic manner some hundreds of feet into the air, whence it fell back into its basin with an awful roar which reverberated and echoed from the rocky walls of the caldron like the singing of an angry sea. an immense volume of steam--the motive power which had blown up the lake--was at the same time liberated and dissipated in the air. the wave-circles died away on the margin of the lake, and the placid, cloud-reflecting surface was restored until the geyser had gathered fresh force for another upheaval. "amazing!" exclaimed nigel, who had gazed with feelings of awe at this curious exhibition of the tremendous internal forces with which the creator has endowed the earth. "vonderful!" exclaimed the professor, whose astonishment was such, that his eyebrows rose high above the rim of his huge blue binoculars. moses, to whom such an exhibition of the powers of nature was familiar, was, we are sorry to say, not much impressed, if impressed at all! indeed he scarcely noticed it, but watched, with intense teeth-and-gum disclosing satisfaction, the faces of two of the native porters who had never seen anything of the kind before, and whose terrified expressions suggested the probability of a precipitate flight when their trembling limbs became fit to resume duty. "will it come again soon?" asked nigel, turning to van der kemp. "every fifteen or twenty minutes it goes through that process all day and every day," replied the hermit. "but, if i may joodge from zee stones ant scoriae around," said the professor, "zee volcano is not always so peaceful as it is joost now." "you are right. about once in every three years, and sometimes oftener, the crops of coffee, bananas, rice, etcetera, in this region are quite destroyed by sulphur-rain, which covers everything for miles around the crater." "hah! it vould be too hote a place zis for us, if zat vas to happin joost now," remarked verkimier with a smile. "it cannot be far off the time now, i should think," said van der kemp. all this talk moses translated, and embellished, to the native porters with the solemn sincerity of a true and thorough-paced hypocrite. he had scarcely finished, and was watching with immense delight the changeful aspect of their whitey-green faces, when another volcanic fit came on, and the deep-toned roar of the coming explosion was heard. it was so awesome that the countenance even of van der kemp became graver than usual. as for the two native porters, they gazed and trembled. nigel and the professor also gazed with lively expectation. moses--we grieve to record it--hugged himself internally, and gloated over the two porters. another moment and there came a mighty roar. up went the mud-lake hundreds of feet into the air; out came the steam with the sound of a thousand trombones, and away went the two porters, head over heels, down the outer slope of the cone and across the sawah as if the spirit of evil were after them. there was no cause, however, for alarm. the mud-lake, falling back into its native cup, resumed its placid aspect and awaited its next upheaval with as much tranquillity as if it had never known disturbance in the past, and were indifferent about the future. that evening our travellers encamped in close proximity to the crater, supped on fowls roasted in an open crevice whence issued steam and sulphurous smells, and slept with the geyser's intermittent roar sounding in their ears and re-echoing in their dreams. chapter twenty three. tells of volcanic fires and a strange return "home." this tremendous introduction to volcanic fires was but the prelude to a period of eruptive action which has not been paralleled in the world's history. for a short time after this, indeed, the genial nature of the weather tended to banish from the minds of our travellers all thoughts of violence either in terrestrial or human affairs, and as the professor devoted himself chiefly to the comparatively mild occupation of catching and transfixing butterflies and beetles during the march southward, there seemed to be nothing in the wide universe above or below save peace and tranquillity--except, perhaps, in the minds of beetles and butterflies! throughout all this period, nevertheless, there were ominous growlings, grumblings, and tremors--faint but frequent--which indicated a condition of mother earth that could not have been called easy. "some of the volcanoes of java must be at work, i think," said nigel one night, as the party sat in a small isolated wood-cutter's hut discussing a supper of rice and fowls with his friends, which they were washing down with home-grown coffee. "it may be so," said van der kemp in a dubious tone; "but the sounds, though faint, seem to me a good deal nearer. i can't help thinking that the craters which have so recently opened up in krakatoa are still active, and that it may be necessary for me to shift my quarters, for my cave is little more, i suspect, than the throat of an ancient volcano." "hah! say you so, mine frond? zen i vould advise you to make no delay," said the professor, critically examining a well-picked drumstick. "you see, it is not pleasant to be blown up eizer by the terrestrial eruptions of zee vorld or zee celestial explosions of your vife.--a leetle more rice, moses if you please. zanks." "now, mine fronds," he continued, after having disposed of a supper which it might have taxed a volcano's throat to swallow, "it is viz great sorrow zat i must part from you here." "part! why?" asked the hermit in surprise. "vy, because i find zis contrie is heaven upon eart'. zat is, of course, only in a scientific point of view. zee voods are svarming, zee air is teeming, ant zee vaters are vallo'ing vit life. i cannot tear myself avay. but ve shall meet again--at telok betong, or krakatoa, or anjer, or batavia." it was found that the man of science was also a man of decision. nothing would persuade him to go a step further. the wood-cutter's hut suited him, so did the wood-cutter himself, and so, as he said, did the region around him. with much regret, therefore, and an earnest invitation from the hermit to visit his cave, and range the almost unexplored woods of his island, the travellers parted from him; and our three adventurers, dismissing all attendants and hiring three ponies, continued their journey to the southern shores of sumatra. as they advanced it soon became evident that the scene of volcanic activity was not so far distant as the island of java, for the air was frequently darkened by the falling of volcanic dust which covered the land with a greyish powder. as, however, at least sixteen volcanoes have been registered in the island of sumatra, and there are probably many others, it was impossible to decide where the scene of eruption was, that caused those signs. one afternoon the travellers witnessed a catastrophe which induced them to forego all idea of spending more time in examining the country. they had arrived at a village where they found a traveller who appeared to be going about without any special object in view. he spoke english, but with a foreign accent. nigel naturally felt a desire to become sociable with him, but he was very taciturn and evidently wished to avoid intercourse with chance acquaintances. hearing that there were curious hot-water and mud springs not far off, the stranger expressed a desire to visit them. nigel also felt anxious to see them, and as one guide was sufficient for the party the stranger joined the party and they went together. the spot they were led to was evidently a mere crust of earth covering fierce subterranean fires. in the centre of it a small pond of mud was boiling and bubbling furiously, and round this, on the indurated clay, were smaller wells and craters full of boiling mud. the ground near them was obviously unsafe, for it bent under pressure like thin ice, and at some of the cracks and fissures the sulphurous vapour was so hot that the hand could not be held to it without being scalded. nigel and the stranger walked close behind the native guide, both, apparently, being anxious to get as near as possible to the central pond. but the guide stopped suddenly, and, looking back, said to van der kemp that it was not safe to approach nearer. nigel at once stopped, and, looking at the stranger, was struck by the wild, incomprehensible expression of his face as he continued to advance. "stop! stop, sir!" cried the hermit on observing this, but the man paid no attention to the warning. another instant and the crust on which he stood gave way and he sank into a horrible gulf from which issued a gust of sulphurous vapour and steam. the horror which almost overwhelmed nigel did not prevent him bounding forward to the rescue. well was it for him at that time that a cooler head than his own was near. the strong hand of the hermit seized his collar on the instant, and he was dragged backward out of danger, while an appalling shriek from the stranger as he disappeared told that the attempt to succour him would have been too late. a terrible event of this kind has usually the effect of totally changing, at least for a time, the feelings of those who witness it, so as to almost incapacitate them from appreciating ordinary events or things. for some days after witnessing the sudden and awful fate of this unknown man, nigel travelled as if in a dream, taking little notice of, or interest in, anything, and replying to questions in mere monosyllables. his companions seemed to be similarly affected, for they spoke very little. even the volatile spirit of moses appeared to be subdued, and it was not till they had reached nearly the end of their journey that their usual flow of spirits returned. arriving one night at a village not very far from the southern shores of sumatra they learned that the hermit's presentiments were justified, and that the volcano which was causing so much disturbance in the islands of the archipelago was, indeed, the long extinct one of krakatoa. "i've heard a good deal about it from one of the chief men here," said the hermit as he returned to his friends that night about supper-time. "he tells me that it has been more or less in moderate eruption ever since we left the island, but adds that nobody takes much notice of it, as they don't expect it to increase much in violence. i don't agree with them in that," he added gravely. "why not?" asked nigel. "partly because of the length of time that has elapsed since its last eruption in ; partly from the fact that that eruption--judging from appearances--must have been a very tremendous one, and partly because my knowledge of volcanic action leads me to expect it; but i could not easily explain the reason for my conclusions on the latter point. i have just been to the brow of a ridge not far off whence i have seen the glow in the sky of the krakatoa fires. they do not, however, appear to be very fierce at the present moment." as he spoke there was felt by the travellers a blow, as if of an explosion under the house in which they sat. it was a strong vertical bump which nearly tossed them all off their chairs. van der kemp and his man, after an exclamation or two, continued supper like men who were used to such interruptions, merely remarking that it was an earthquake. but nigel, to whom it was not quite so familiar, stood up for a few seconds with a look of anxious uncertainty, as if undecided as to the path of duty and prudence in the circumstances. moses relieved him. "sot down, massa nadgel," said that sable worthy, as he stuffed his mouth full of rice; "it's easier to sot dan to stand w'en its eart'quakin'." nigel sat down with a tendency to laugh, for at that moment he chanced to glance at the rafters above, where he saw a small anxious-faced monkey gazing down at him. he was commenting on this creature when another prolonged shock of earthquake came. it was not a bump like the previous one, but a severe vibration which only served to shake the men in their chairs, but it shook the small monkey off the rafter, and the miserable little thing fell with a shriek and a flop into the rice-dish! "git out o' dat--you scoundril!" exclaimed moses, but the order was needless, for the monkey bounced out of it like india-rubber and sought to hide its confusion in the thatch, while moses helped himself to some more of the rice, which, he said, was none the worse for being monkeyfied! at last our travellers found themselves in the town of telok betong, where, being within forty-five miles of krakatoa, the hermit could both see and hear that his island-home was in violent agitation; tremendous explosions occurring frequently, while dense masses of smoke were ascending from its craters. "i'm happy to find," said the hermit, soon after their arrival in the town, "that the peak of rakata, on the southern part of the island where my cave lies, is still quiet and has shown no sign of breaking out. and now i shall go and see after my canoe." "do you think it safe to venture to visit your cave?" asked nigel. "well, not absolutely safe," returned the hermit with a peculiar smile, "but, of course, if you think it unwise to run the risk of--" "i asked a simple question, van der kemp, without any thought of myself," interrupted the youth, as he flushed deeply. "forgive me, nigel," returned the hermit quickly and gravely, "it is but my duty to point out that we cannot go there without running _some_ risk." "and it is _my_ duty to point out," retorted his hurt friend, "that when any man, worthy of the name, agrees to follow another, he agrees to accept all risks." to this the hermit vouchsafed no further reply than a slight smile and nod of intelligence. thereafter he went off alone to inquire about his canoe, which, it will be remembered, his friend, the captain of the steamer, had promised to leave for him at this place. telok betong, which was one of the severest sufferers by the eruption of , is a small town at the head of lampong bay, opposite to the island of krakatoa, from which it is between forty and fifty miles distant. it is built on a narrow strip of land at the base of a steep mountain, but little above the sea, and is the chief town of the lampong residency, which forms the most southerly province of sumatra. at the time we write of, the only european residents of the place were connected with government. the rest of the population was composed of a heterogeneous mass of natives mingled with a number of chinese, a few arabs, and a large fluctuating population of traders from borneo, celebes, new guinea, siam, and the other innumerable isles of the archipelago. these were more or less connected with prahus laden with the rich and varied merchandise of the eastern seas. as each man in the town had been permitted to build his house according to his own fancy, picturesque irregularity was the agreeable result. it may be added that, as each man spoke his own language in his own tones, babel and noise were the consequence. in a small hut by the waterside the hermit found the friend--a malay--to whom his canoe had been consigned, and, in a long low shed close by, he found the canoe itself, with the faithful spinkie in charge. "don't go near the canoe till you've made friends with the monkey," said the malay in his own tongue, as he was about to put the key in the door. "why not?" asked the hermit. "because it is the savagest brute i ever came across," said the man. "it won't let a soul come near the canoe. i would have killed it long ago if the captain of the steamer had not told me you wished it to be taken great care of. there, look out! the vixen is not tied up." he flung open the shed-door and revealed spinkie seated in his old place, much deteriorated in appearance and scowling malevolently. the instant the poor creature heard its master's voice and saw his form--for his features must have been invisible against the strong light--the scowl vanished from its little visage. with a shriek of joy it sprang like an acrobat from a spring-board and plunged into the hermit's bosom--to the alarm of the malay, who thought this was a furious attack. we need not say that van der kemp received his faithful little servant kindly, and it was quite touching to observe the monkey's intense affection for him. it could not indeed wag its tail like a dog, but it put its arms round its master's neck with a wondrously human air, and rubbed its little head in his beard and whiskers, drawing itself back now and then, putting its black paws on his cheeks, turning his face round to the light and opening its round eyes wide--as well as its round little mouth--as if to make sure of his identity--then plunging into the whiskers again, and sometimes, when unable to contain its joy, finding a safety-valve in a little shriek. when the meeting and greeting were over, van der kemp explained that he would require his canoe by daybreak the following morning, ordered a few provisions to be got ready, and turned to leave. "you must get down, spinkie, and watch the canoe for one night more," said the hermit, quietly. but spinkie did not seem to perceive the necessity, for he clung closer to his master with a remonstrative, croak. "get down, spinkie," said the hermit firmly, "and watch the canoe." the poor beast had apparently learned that medo-persic law was not more unchangeable than van der kemp's commands! at all events it crept down his arm and leg, waddled slowly over the floor of the shed with bent back and wrinkled brow, like a man of ninety, and took up its old position on the deck, the very personification of superannuated woe. the hermit patted its head gently, however, thus relieving its feelings, and probably introducing hope into its little heart before leaving. then he returned to his friends and bade them prepare for immediate departure. it was the night of the th of august, and as the eruptions of the volcano appeared to be getting more and more violent, van der kemp's anxiety to reach his cave became visibly greater. "i have been told," said the hermit to nigel, as they went down with moses to the place where the canoe had been left, "the history of krakatoa since we left. a friend informs me that a short time after our departure the eruptions subsided a little, and the people here had ceased to pay much attention to them, but about the middle of june the volcanic activity became more violent, and on the th, in particular, it was observed that the vapour-column and the force of the explosions were decidedly on the increase." "at katimbang, from which place the island can be seen, it was noticed that a second column of vapour was ascending from the centre of the island, and that the appearance of perboewatan had entirely changed, its conspicuous summit having apparently been blown away. in july there were some explosions of exceptional violence, and i have now no doubt that it was these we heard in the interior of this island when we were travelling hither, quite lately. on the th of this month, i believe, the island was visited in a boat by a government officer, but he did not land, owing to the heavy masses of vapour and dust driven about by the wind, which also prevented him from making a careful examination, but he could see that the forests of nearly the whole island have been destroyed--only a few trunks of blighted trees being left standing above the thick covering of pumice and dust. he reported that the dust near the shore was found to be twenty inches thick." "if so," said nigel, "i fear that the island will be no longer fit to inhabit." "i know not," returned the hermit sadly, in a musing tone. "the officer reported that there is no sign of eruption at rakata, so that my house is yet safe, for no showers of pumice, however deep, can injure the cave." nigel was on the point of asking his friend why he was so anxious to revisit the island at such a time, but, recollecting his recent tiff on that subject, refrained. afterwards, however, when van der kemp was settling accounts with the malay, he put the question to moses. "i can't help wondering," he said, "that van der kemp should be so anxious to get back to his cave just now. if he were going in a big boat to save some of his goods and chattels i could understand it, but the canoe, you know, could carry little more than her ordinary lading." "well, massa nadgel," said moses, "it's my opinion dat he wants to go back 'cause he's got an uncommon affekshnit heart." "how? surely you don't mean that his love of the mere place is so strong that--" "no, no, massa nadgel--'snot dat. but he was awrful fond ob his wife an' darter, an' i know he's got a photogruff ob 'em bof togidder, an' i t'ink he'd sooner lose his head dan lose dat, for i've seed him look at 'em for hours, an' kiss 'em sometimes w'en he t'ought i was asleep." the return of the hermit here abruptly stopped the conversation. the canoe was carried down and put into the water, watched with profound interest by hundreds of natives and traders, who were all more or less acquainted with the hermit of rakata. it was still daylight when they paddled out into lampong bay, but the volumes of dust which rose from krakatoa--although nearly fifty miles off--did much to produce an unusually early twilight. "goin' to be bery dark, massa," remarked moses as they glided past the shipping. "shall i light de lamp?" "do, moses, but we shan't need it, for as we get nearer home the volcanic fires will light us on our way." "de volcanic dust is a-goin' to powder us on our way too, massa. keep your hands out o' the way, spinkie," said the negro as he fixed a small oil-lamp to the mast, and resumed his paddle. "after we get out a bit the wind will help us," said the hermit. "yes, massa, if he don't blow too strong," returned moses, as a squall came rushing down the mountains and swept over the bay, ruffling its now dark waters into foaming wavelets. altogether, what with the increasing darkness and the hissing squall, and the night-voyage before them, and the fires of krakatoa which were now clearly visible on the horizon, nigel roy felt a more eerie sensation in his breast than he ever remembered to have experienced in all his previous life, but he scorned to admit the fact--even to himself, and said, mentally, that it was rather romantic than otherwise! just then there burst upon their ears the yell of a steam-whistle, and a few moments later a steamer bore straight down on them, astern. "steamer ahoy!" shouted van der kemp. "will ye throw us a rope?" "ay! ay!--ease 'er!--stop 'er! where are 'ee bound for?" demanded an unmistakably english voice. "krakatoa!" replied the hermit. "where are you?" "anjer, on the java coast. do 'ee want to be smothered, roasted, and blown up?" asked the captain, looking down on the canoe as it ranged alongside the dark hull. "no, we want to get home." "home! well, you're queer fellows in a queer eggshell for such waters. every man to his taste. look out for the rope!" "all right, cappen," cried moses as he caught the coil. next moment the steamer went ahead, and the canoe ploughed over the sunda straits at the rate of thirteen miles an hour, with her sharp prow high out of the water, and the stern correspondingly low. the voyage, which would have otherwise cost our three travellers a long laborious night and part of next day, was by this means so greatly shortened that when daybreak arrived they were not more than thirteen miles to the east of krakatoa. nearer than this the steamboat could not take them without going out of her course, but as van der kemp and nigel gratefully acknowledged, it was quite near enough. "well, i should just think it was rather too near!" said the captain with a grin. and, truly, he was justified in making the remark, for the explosions from the volcano had by that time become not only very frequent, but tremendously loud, while the dense cloud which hung above it and spread far and wide over the sky covered the sea with a kind of twilight that struggled successfully against the full advent of day. lightning too was playing among the rolling black masses of smoke, and the roaring explosions every now and then seemed to shake the very heavens. casting off the tow-rope, they turned the bow of their canoe to the island. as a stiffish breeze was blowing, they set the sails, close-reefed, and steered for the southern shore at that part which lay under the shadow of rakata. chapter twenty four. an awful night and terrible morning. it was a matter of some satisfaction to find on drawing near to the shore that the peak of rakata was still intact, and that, although most other parts of the island which could be seen were blighted by fire and covered deeply with pumice-dust, much of the forest in the immediate neighbourhood of the cave was still undestroyed though considerably damaged. "d'you think our old harbour will be available, moses?" asked van der kemp as they came close to the first headland. "pr'aps. bes' go an' see," was the negro's practical reply. "evidently rakata is not yet active," said nigel, looking up at the grey dust-covered crags as the canoe glided swiftly through the dark water. "that is more than can be said for the other craters," returned the hermit. "it seems to me that not only all the old ones are at work, but a number of new ones must have been opened." the constant roaring and explosions that filled their ears and the rain of fine ashes bore testimony to the truth of this, though the solid and towering mass of rakata rose between them and the part of krakatoa which was in eruption, preventing their seeing anything that was passing except the dense masses of smoke, steam, and dust which rose many miles into the heavens, obstructing the light of day, but forming cloud-masses from which the lurid flames of the volcano were reflected downward. on reaching the little bay or harbour it was found much as they had left it, save that the rocks and bushes around were thickly covered with dust, and their boat was gone. "strange! at such a time one would scarcely have expected thieves to come here," said the hermit, looking slowly round. "no t'ief bin here, massa," said moses, looking over the side of the canoe. "i see de boat!" he pointed downwards as he spoke, and on looking over the side they saw the wreck of the boat at the bottom, in about ten feet of water, and crushed beneath a ponderous mass of lava, which must have been ejected from the volcano and afterwards descended upon the boat. the destruction of the boat rendered it impossible to remove any of the property of the hermit, and nigel now saw, from his indifference, that this could not have been the cause of his friend's anxiety and determination to reach his island-home in spite of the danger that such a course entailed. that there was considerable danger soon became very obvious, for, having passed to some extent at this point beyond the shelter of the cliffs of rakata, and come partly into view of the other parts of the island, the real extent of the volcanic violence burst upon nigel and moses as a new revelation. the awful sublimity of the scene at first almost paralysed them, and they failed to note that not only did a constant rain of pumice-dust fall upon them, but that there was also a pretty regular dropping of small stones into the water around them. their attention was sharply aroused to this fact by the fall of a lump of semi-molten rock, about the size of a cannon-shot, a short distance off, which was immediately followed by not less than a cubic yard of lava which fell close to the canoe and deluged them with spray. "we must go," said the hermit quietly. "no need to expose ourselves here, though the watching of the tremendous forces that our creator has at command does possess a wonderful kind of fascination. it seems to me the more we see of his power as exerted on our little earth, the more do we realise the paltriness of our conception of the stupendous might that upholds the universe." while he was speaking, van der kemp guided the canoe into its little haven, and in a few minutes he and moses had carried it into the shelter of the cave out of which nigel had first seen it emerge. then the lading was carried up, after which they turned into the track which led to the hermit's home. the whole operation may be said to have been performed under fire, for small masses of rock kept pattering continually on the dust-covered ground around them, causing cloudlets, like smoke, to spring up wherever they struck. nigel and moses could not resist glancing upward now and then as they moved quickly to and fro, and they experienced a shrinking sensation when a stone fell very near them, but each scorned to exhibit the smallest trace of anxiety, or to suggest that the sooner they got from under fire the better! as for van der kemp, he moved about deliberately as if there was nothing unusual going on, and with an absent look on his grave face as though the outbursts of smoke, and fire, and lava, which turned the face of day into lurid night, and caused the cliffs to reverberate with unwonted thunders, had no effect whatever on his mind. a short walk, however, along the track, which was more than ankle-deep in dust, brought them under the sheltering sides of rakata, up which they soon scrambled to the mouth of their cave. here all was found as they had left it, save that the entrance was knee-deep in pumice-dust. and now a new and very strange sensation was felt by each of them, for the loud reports and crackling sounds which had assailed their ears outside were reduced by the thick walls of the cave to a continuous dull groan, as it were, like the soft but thunderous bass notes of a stupendous organ. to these sounds were added others which seemed to be peculiar to the cave itself. they appeared to rise from crevices in the floor, and were no doubt due to the action of those pent-up subterranean fires which were imprisoned directly, though it may be very far down, under their feet. every now and then there came a sudden increase of the united sounds as if the "swell" of the great organ had been opened, and such out-gushing was always accompanied with more or less of indescribable shocks followed by prolonged tremors of the entire mountain. if the three friends had been outside to observe what was taking place, they would have seen that these symptoms were simultaneous with occasional and extremely violent outbursts from the crater of perboewatan and his compeers. indeed they guessed as much, and two of them at least were not a little thankful that, awesome as their position was, they had the thick mountain between them and the fiery showers outside. of all this the hermit took no notice, but, hastening into the inner cavern, opened a small box, and took therefrom a bundle of papers and a little object which, at a first glance, nigel supposed to be a book, but which turned out to be a photograph case. these the hermit put carefully into the breast-pocket of his coat and then turned to his companions with a sigh as if of relief. "i think there is no danger of anything occurring at this part of the island," he remarked, looking round the cave, "for there is no sign of smoke and no sulphurous smell issuing from any of the crevices in walls or floor. this, i think, shows that there is no direct communication with rakata and the active volcano--at least not at present." "do you then think there is a possibility of an outbreak at some future period?" asked nigel. "who can tell? people here, who don't study the nature of volcanoes much, though surrounded by them, will expect things ere long to resume their normal condition. i can never forget the fact that the greater part of krakatoa stands, as you know, exactly above the spot where the two great lines of volcanic action cross, and right over the mouth of the immense crater to which perboewatan and all the other craters serve as mere chimneys or safety-valves. we cannot tell whether a great eruption similar to that of may not be in store for us. the only reason that i can see for the quiescence of this peak of rakata is, as i said to you once before, that it stands not so much above the old crater as above and on the safe side of its lip." "i t'ink, massa, if i may ventur' to speak," said moses, "dat de sooner we git off his lip de better lest we tumble into his mout'." "you may be right, moses, and i have no objection to quit," returned the hermit, "now that i have secured the photograph and papers. at the same time i fear the rain of stones and lava is growing worse. it might be safer to stay till there is a lull in the violence of the eruption, and then make a dash for it. what say you, nigel?" "i say that you know best, van der kemp. i'm ready to abide by your decision, whatever it be." "well, then, we will go out and have a look at the state of matters." the view from the entrance was not calculated to tempt them to forsake the shelter of the cave, however uncertain that might be. the latest explosions had enshrouded the island in such a cloud of smoke and dust, that nothing whatever was visible beyond a few yards in front, and even that space was only seen by the faint rays of the lamp issuing from the outer cave. this lamp-light was sufficient, however, to show that within the semi-circle of a few yards there was a continuous rain of grey ashes and dust mingled with occasional stones of various sizes-- some larger than a man's fist. "to go out in that would be simply to court death," said nigel, whose voice was almost drowned by the noise of the explosions and fall of material. as it was manifest that nothing could be done at the moment except to wait patiently, they returned to the cave, where they lighted the oil-stove, and moses--who had taken the precaution to carry up some provisions in a bag from the canoe--proceeded to prepare a meal. "stummicks must be attended to," he murmured to himself as he moved about the cave-kitchen and shook his head gravely. "collapses in dat region is wuss, a long way, dan 'splosion of the eart'!" meanwhile, nigel and the hermit went to examine the passage leading to the observatory. the eruption had evidently done nothing to it, for, having passed upwards without difficulty, they finally emerged upon the narrow ledge. the scene that burst upon their astonished gaze here was awful in the extreme. it will be remembered that while the hermit's cave was on the southern side of krakatoa, facing java, the stair and passage leading to the observatory completely penetrated the peak of rakata, so that when standing on the ledge they faced northward and were thus in full view of all the craters between them and perboewatan. these were in full blast at the time, and, being so near, the heat, as well as the dust, molten lava, and other missiles, instantly drove them back under the protection of the passage from which they had emerged. here they found a small aperture which appeared to have been recently formed--probably by a blow from a mass of falling rock--through which they were able to obtain a glimpse of the pandemonium that lay seething below them. they could not see much, however, owing to the smoke which filled the air. the noise of the almost continuous explosions was so loud, that it was impossible to converse save by placing the mouth to the ear and shouting. fortunately soon after their ascent the wind shifted and blew smoke, fire, and dust away to the northward, enabling them to get out on the ledge, where for a time they remained in comparative safety. "look! look at your mirrors!" exclaimed nigel suddenly, as his wandering gaze happened to turn to the hermit's sun-guides. and he might well exclaim, for not only was the glass of these ingenious machines shivered and melted, but their iron frameworks were twisted up into fantastic shapes. "lightning has been at work here," said van der kemp. it did not at the moment occur to either of them that the position on which they stood was peculiarly liable to attack by the subtle and dangerous fluid which was darting and zigzagging everywhere among the rolling clouds of smoke and steam. a louder report than usual here drew their attention again to the tremendous scene that was going on in front of them. the extreme summit of perboewatan had been blown into a thousand fragments, which were hurtling upwards and crackling loudly as the smaller masses were impelled against each other in their skyward progress. this crackling has been described by those who heard it from neighbouring shores as a "strange rustling sound." to our hermit and his friend, who were, so to speak, in the very midst of it, the sound rather resembled the continuous musketry of a battle-field, while the louder explosions might be compared to the booming of artillery, though they necessarily lose by the comparison, for no invention of man ever produced sounds equal to those which thundered at that time from the womb of krakatoa. immediately after this, a fountain of molten lava at white heat welled up in the great throat that had been so violently widened, and, overflowing the edges of the crater, rolled down its sides in fiery rivers. all the other craters in the island became active at the same moment and a number of new ones burst forth. indeed it seemed to those who watched them that if these had not opened up to give vent to the suppressed forces the whole island must have been blown away. as it was, the sudden generation of so much excessive heat set fire to what remained of trees and everything combustible, so that the island appeared to be one vast seething conflagration, and darkness was for a time banished by a red glare that seemed to nigel far more intense than that of noonday. it is indeed the partiality, (if we may say so), of conflagration-light which gives to it the character of impressive power with which we are all so familiar--the intense lights being here cut sharply off by equally intense shadows, and then grading into dull reds and duller greys. the sun, on the other hand, bathes everything in its genial glow so completely that all nature is permeated with it, and there are no intense contrasts, no absolutely black and striking shadows, except in caverns and holes, to form startling contrasts. "these safety-valves," said the hermit, referring to the new craters, "have, under god, been the means of saving us from destruction." "it would seem so," said nigel, who was too overwhelmed by the sight to say much. even as he spoke the scene changed as if by magic, for from the cone of perboewatan there issued a spout of liquid fire, followed by a roar so tremendous that the awe-struck men shrank within themselves, feeling as though that time had really come when the earth is to melt with fervent heat! the entire lake of glowing lava was shot into the air, and lost in the clouds above, while mingled smoke and steam went bellowing after it, and dust fell so thickly that it seemed as if sufficient to extinguish the raging fires. whether it did so or not is uncertain. it may have been that the new pall of black vapour only obscured them. at all events, after the outburst the darkness of night fell suddenly on all around. just then the wind again changed, and the whole mass of vapour, smoke, and ashes came sweeping like the very besom of destruction towards the giddy ledge on which the observers stood. nigel was so entranced that it is probable he might have been caught in the horrible tempest and lost, had not his cooler companion grasped his arm and dragged him violently into the passage--where they were safe, though half suffocated by the heat and sulphurous vapours that followed them. at the same time the thunderous roaring became so loud that conversation was impossible. van der kemp therefore took his friend's hand and led him down to the cave, where the sounds were so greatly subdued as to seem almost a calm by contrast. "we are no doubt in great danger," said the hermit, gravely, as he sat down in the outer cave, "but there is no possibility of taking action to-night. here we are, whether wisely or unwisely, and here we must remain--at least till there is a lull in the eruption. `god is our refuge.' he ought to be so at _all_ times, but there are occasions when this great, and, i would add, glorious fact is pressed upon our understandings with unusual power. such a time is this. come--we will see what his word says to us just now." to nigel's surprise, and, he afterwards confessed, to his comfort and satisfaction, the hermit called the negro from his work, and, taking down the large bible from its shelf, read part of the th psalm, "god is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea." he stopped reading at the verse where it is written, "be still, and know that i am god." then, going down on his knees,--without even the familiar formula, "let us pray"--he uttered a brief but earnest prayer for guidance and deliverance "in the name of jesus." rising, he quietly put the bible away, and, with the calmness of a thoroughly practical man, who looks upon religion and ordinary matters as parts of one grand whole, ordered moses to serve the supper. thus they spent part of that memorable night of th august in earnest social intercourse, conversing chiefly and naturally about the character, causes, and philosophy of volcanoes, while perboewatan and his brethren played a rumbling, illustrative accompaniment to their discourse. the situation was a peculiar one. even the negro was alive to that fact. "ain't it koorious," he remarked solemnly in a moment of confidence after swallowing the last bite of his supper. "ain't it koorious, massa nadgel, dat we're a sottin' here comf'rably enjoyin' our wittles ober de mout' ob a v'licano as is quite fit to blow us all to bits an' hois' us into de bery middle ob next week--if not farder?" "it is strange indeed, moses," said nigel, who however added no commentary, feeling indisposed to pursue the subject. seeing this, moses turned to his master. "massa," he said. "you don' want nuffin' more to-night, i s'pose?" "no, moses, nothing." "an' is you _quite_ easy in your mind?" "quite," replied the hermit with his peculiar little smile. "den it would be wuss dan stoopid for me to be oneasy, so i'll bid ye bof good-night, an' turn in." in this truly trustful as well as philosophical state of mind, the negro retired to his familiar couch in the inner cave, and went to sleep. nigel and the hermit sat up for some time longer. "van der kemp," said the former, after a pause, "i--i trust you won't think me actuated by impertinent curiosity if i venture to ask you about--the--photograph that i think you--" "my young friend!" interrupted the hermit, taking the case in question from his breast-pocket; "i should rather apologise to you for having appeared to make any mystery of it--and yet," he added, pausing as he was about to open the case, "i have not shown it to a living soul since the day that--well, well,--why should i hesitate? it is all i have left of my dead wife and child." he placed the case in the hands of nigel, who almost sprang from his seat with excitement as he beheld the countenance of a little child of apparently three or four years of age, who so exactly resembled kathy holbein--allowing of course for the difference of age--that he had now no doubt whatever as to her being the hermit's lost daughter. he was on the point of uttering her name, when uncertainty as to the effect the sudden disclosure might have upon the father checked him. "you seem surprised, my friend," said van der kemp gently. "most beautiful!" said nigel, gazing intently at the portrait. "that dear child's face seems so familiar to me that i could almost fancy i had seen it." he looked earnestly into his friend's face as he spoke, but the hermit was quite unmoved, and there was not a shadow of change in the sad low tone of his voice as he said-- "yes, she was indeed beautiful, like her mother. as to your fancy about having seen it--mankind is formed in groups and types. we see many faces that resemble others." the absent look that was so common to the solitary man here overspread his massive features, and nigel felt crushed, as it were, back into himself. thus, without having disclosed his belief, he retired to rest in a very anxious state of mind, while the hermit watched. "don't take off your clothes," he said. "if the sounds outside lead me to think things are quieting down, i will rouse you and we shall start at once." it was very early on the morning of the th when van der kemp roused our hero. "are things quieter?" asked nigel as he rose. "yes, a little, but not much--nevertheless we must venture to leave." "is it daylight yet?" "no. there will be no daylight to-day!" with which prophecy the hermit left him and went to rouse moses. "massa," said the faithful negro. "isn't you a-goin' to take nuffin' wid you? none ob de books or t'ings!" "no--nothing except the old bible. all the rest i leave behind. the canoe could not carry much. besides, we may have little time. get ready; quick! and follow me." moses required no spur. the three men left the cave together. it was so intensely dark that the road could not be distinguished, but the hermit and his man were so familiar with it that they could have followed it blindfold. on reaching the cave at the harbour, some light was obtained from the fitful outbursts of the volcano, which enabled them to launch the canoe and push off in safety. then, without saying a word to each other, they coasted along the shore of the island, and, finally, leaving its dangers behind them, made for the island of java--poor spinkie sitting in his accustomed place and looking uncommonly subdued! scarcely had they pushed off into sunda straits when the volcano burst out afresh. they had happily seized on the only quiet hour that the day offered, and had succeeded, by the aid of the sails, in getting several miles from the island without receiving serious injury, although showers of stones and masses of rock of all sizes were falling into the sea around them. van der kemp was so far right in his prophecy that there would be no daylight that day. by that time there should have been light, as it was nearly seven o'clock on the memorable morning of the th of august. but now, although the travellers were some miles distant from krakatoa, the gloom was so impervious that nigel, from his place in the centre of the canoe, could not see the form of poor spinkie--which sat clinging to the mast only two feet in front of him--save when a blaze from perboewatan or one of the other craters lighted up island and ocean with a vivid glare. at this time the sea began to run very high and the wind increased to a gale, so that the sails of the canoe, small though they were, had to be reduced. "lower the foresail, nigel," shouted the hermit. "i will close-reef it. do you the same to the mainsail." "ay, ay, sir," was the prompt reply. moses and nigel kept the little craft straight to the wind while the foresail was being reefed, van der kemp and the former performing the same duty while nigel reefed the mainsail. suddenly there came a brief but total cessation of the gale, though not of the tumultuous heaving of the waters. during that short interval there burst upon the world a crash and a roar so tremendous that for a few moments the voyagers were almost stunned! it is no figure of speech to say that the _world_ heard the crash. hundreds, ay, thousands of miles did the sound of that mighty upheaval pass over land and sea to startle, more or less, the nations of the earth. the effect of a stupendous shock on the nervous system is curiously various in different individuals. the three men who were so near to the volcano at that moment involuntarily looked round and saw by the lurid blaze that an enormous mass of krakatoa, rent from top to bottom, was falling headlong into the sea; while the entire heavens were alive with flame, lightning, steam, smoke, and the upward-shooting fragments of the hideous wreck! the hermit calmly rested his paddle on the deck and gazed around in silent wonder. nigel, not less smitten with awe, held his paddle with an iron grasp, every muscle quivering with tension in readiness for instant action when the need for action should appear. moses, on the other hand, turning round from the sight with glaring eyes, resumed paddling with unreasoning ferocity, and gave vent at once to his feelings and his opinion in the sharp exclamation--"blown to bits!" chapter twenty five. adventures of the "sunshine" and an unexpected reunion. we must request the reader to turn back now for a brief period to a very different scene. a considerable time before the tremendous catastrophe described in the last chapter--which we claim to have recorded without the slightest exaggeration, inasmuch as exaggeration were impossible--captain david roy, of the good brig _sunshine_, received the letter which his son wrote to him while in the jungles of sumatra. the captain was seated in the back office of a batavian merchant at the time, smoking a long clay pipe--on the principle, no doubt, that moderate poisoning is conducive to moderate health! as he perused the letter, the captain's eyes slowly opened; so did his mouth, and the clay pipe, falling to the floor, was reduced to little pieces. but the captain evidently cared nothing for that. he gave forth a prolonged whistle, got up, smote upon his thigh, and exclaimed with deep-toned emphasis-- "the rascal!" then he sat down again and re-perused the letter, with a variety of expression on his face that might have recalled the typical april day, minus the tears. "the rascal!" he repeated, as he finished the second reading of the letter and thrust it into his pocket. "i knew there was somethin' i' the wind wi' that little girl! the memory o' my own young days when i boarded and captured the poetess is strong upon me yet. i saw it in the rascal's eye the very first time they met--an' he thinks i'm as blind as a bat, i'll be bound, with his poetical reef-point-pattering sharpness. but it's a strange discovery he has made and must be looked into. the young dog! he gives me orders as if he were the owner." jumping up, captain roy hurried out into the street. in passing the outer office he left a message with one of the clerks for his friend the merchant. "tell him," he said, "that i'll attend to that little business about the bill when i come back. i'm going to sail for the keeling islands this afternoon." "the keeling islands?" exclaimed the clerk in surprise. "yes--i've got business to do there. i'll be back, all bein' well, in a week--more or less." the clerk's eyebrows remained in a raised position for a few moments, until he remembered that captain roy, being owner of his ship and cargo, was entitled to do what he pleased with his own and himself. then they descended, and he went on with his work, amusing himself with the thought that the most curious beings in the world were seafaring men. "mr moor," said the captain somewhat excitedly, as he reached the deck of his vessel, "are all the men aboard?" "all except jim sloper, sir." "then send and hunt up jim sloper at once, for we sail this afternoon for the keeling islands." "very well, sir." mr moor was a phlegmatic man; a self-contained and a reticent man. if captain roy had told him to get ready to sail to the moon that afternoon, he would probably have said "very well, sir," in the same tone and with the same expression. "may i ask, sir, what sort of cargo you expect there?" said mr moor; for to his practical mind some re-arrangement of the cargo already on board might be necessary for the reception of that to be picked up at keeling. "the cargo we'll take on board will be a girl," said the captain. "a what, sir?" "a girl." "very well, sir." this ended the business part of the conversation. thereafter they went into details so highly nautical that we shrink from recording them. an amateur detective, in the form of a shipmate, having captured jim sloper, the _sunshine_ finally cleared out of the port of batavia that evening, shortly before its namesake took his departure from that part of the southern hemisphere. favouring gales carried the brig swiftly through sunda straits and out into the indian ocean. two days and a half brought her to the desired haven. on the way, captain roy took note of the condition of krakatoa, which at that time was quietly working up its subterranean forces with a view to the final catastrophe; opening a safety-valve now and then to prevent, as it were, premature explosion. "my son's friend, the hermit of rakata," said the captain to his second mate, "will find his cave too hot to hold him, i think, when he returns." "looks like it, sir," said mr moor, glancing up at the vast clouds which were at that time spreading like a black pall over the re-awakened volcano. "do you expect 'em back soon, sir?" "yes--time's about up now. i shouldn't wonder if they reach batavia before us." arrived at the keeling islands, captain roy was received, as usual, with acclamations of joy, but he found that he was by no means as well fitted to act the part of a diplomatist as he was to sail a ship. it was, in truth, a somewhat delicate mission on which his son had sent him, for he could not assert definitely that the hermit actually was kathleen holbein's father, and her self-constituted parents did not relish the idea of letting slip, on a mere chance, one whom they loved as a daughter. "why not bring this man who claims to be her father _here_?" asked the perplexed holbein. "because--because, p'raps he won't come," answered the puzzled mariner, who did not like to say that he was simply and strictly obeying his son's orders. "besides," he continued, "the man does not claim to be anything at all. so far as i understand it, my boy has not spoken to him on the subject, for fear, i suppose, of raisin' hopes that ain't to be realised." "he is right in that," said mrs holbein, "and we must be just as careful not to raise false hopes in dear little kathy. as your son says, it may be a mistake after all. we must not open our lips to her about it." "right you are, madam," returned the captain. "mum's the word; and we've only got to say she's goin' to visit one of your old friends in anjer--which'll be quite true, you know, for the landlady o' the chief hotel there is a great friend o' yours, and we'll take kathy to her straight. besides, the trip will do her health a power o' good, though i'm free to confess it don't need no good to be done to it, bein' a at the present time. now, just you agree to give the girl a holiday, an' i'll pledge myself to bring her back safe and sound--with her father, if he's _him_; without him if he isn't." with such persuasive words captain roy at length overcame the holbein objections. with the girl herself he had less difficulty, his chief anxiety being, as he himself said, "to give her reasons for wishin' her to go without tellin' lies." "wouldn't you like a trip in my brig to anjer, my dear girl?" he had almost said daughter, but thought it best not to be too precipitate. "oh! i should like it _so_ much," said kathleen, clasping her little hands and raising her large eyes to the captain's face. "_dear_ child!" said the captain to himself. then aloud, "well, i'll take you." "but i--i fear that father and mother would not like me to go--perhaps." "no fear o' them, my girl," returned the captain, putting his huge rough hand on her pretty little head as if in an act of solemn appropriation, for, unlike too many fathers, this exemplary man considered only the sweetness, goodness, and personal worth of the girl, caring not a straw for other matters, and being strongly of opinion that a man should marry young if he possess the spirit of a man or the means to support a wife. as he was particularly fond of kathleen, and felt quite sure that his son had deeper reasons than he chose to express for his course of action, he entertained a strong hope, not to say conviction, that she would also become fond of nigel, and that all things would thus work together for a smooth course to this case of true love. it will be seen from all this that captain david roy was a sanguine man. whether his hopes were well grounded or not remains to be seen. meanwhile, having, as mr moor said, shipped the cargo, the _sunshine_ set sail once more for sunda straits in a measure of outward gloom that formed a powerful contrast to the sunny hopes within her commander's bosom, for krakatoa was at that time progressing rapidly towards the consummation of its designs, as partly described in the last chapter. short though that voyage was, it embraced a period of action so thrilling that ever afterwards it seemed a large slice of life's little day to those who went through it. we have said that the culminating incidents of the drama began on the night of the th. before that time, however, the cloud-pall was fast spreading over land and sea, and the rain of pumice and ashes had begun to descend. the wind being contrary, it was several days before the brig reached the immediate neighbourhood of krakatoa, and by that time the volcano had begun to enter upon the stage which is styled by vulcanologists "paroxysmal," the explosions being extremely violent as well as frequent. "it is very awful," said kathleen in a low voice, as she clasped the captain's arm and leaned her slight figure on it. "i have often heard the thunder of distant volcanoes, but never been so near as to hear such terrible sounds." "don't be frightened, my ducky," said the captain in a soothing tone, for he felt from the appearance of things that there was indeed some ground for alarm. "volcanoes always look worse when you're near them." "i not frightened," she replied. "only i got strange, solemn feelings. besides, no danger can come till god allows." "that's right, lass. mrs holbein has been a true mother if she taught you that." "no, she did not taught me that. my father taught me that." "what! old holbein?" "no--my father, who is dead," she said in a low voice. "oh! i see. my poor child, i should have understood you. forgive me." as the captain spoke, a tremendous outburst on krakatoa turned their minds to other subjects. they were by that time drawing near to the island, and the thunders of the eruption seemed to shake not only the heavens but even the great ocean itself. though the hour was not much past noon the darkness soon became so dense that it was difficult to perceive objects a few yards distant, and, as pieces of stone the size of walnuts, or even larger, began to fall on the deck, the captain sent kathleen below. "there's no saying where or when a big stone may fall, my girl," he said, "and it's not the habit of englishmen to let women come under fire, so you'll be safer below. besides, you'll be able to see something of what's goin' on out o' the cabin windows." with the obedience that was natural to her, kathleen went down at once, and the captain made everything as snug as possible, battening down the hatches and shortening sail so as to be ready for whatever might befall. "i don't like the look o' things, mr moor," said the captain when the second mate came on deck to take his watch. "no more do i, sir," answered mr moor calmly. the aspect of things was indeed very changeable. sometimes, as we have said, all nature seemed to be steeped in thick darkness, at other times the fires of the volcano blazed upward, spreading a red glare on the rolling clouds and over the heaving sea. lightning also played its part as well as thunder, but the latter was scarcely distinguishable from the volcano's roar. three days before sunday the th of august, captain roy--as well as the crews of several other vessels that were in sunda straits at the time--had observed a marked though gradual increase in the violence of the eruption. on that day, as we read in the _report of the krakatoa committee of the royal society_, about p.m. the detonations caused by the explosive action attained such violence as to be heard at batavia, about english miles away. at p.m. of the same day, captain thompson of the _medea_, when about miles east-north-east of the island, saw a black mass rising like clouds of smoke to a height which has been estimated at no less than miles! and the detonations were at that time taking place at intervals of ten minutes. but, terrible though these explosions must have been, they were but as the whisperings of the volcano. an hour later they had increased so much as to be heard at bandong and other places miles away, and at p.m. they had become so tremendous as to be heard over the whole island of java, the eastern portion of which is about miles from krakatoa. and the sounds thus heard were not merely like distant thunder. in batavia--although, as we have said, miles off--they were so violent during the whole of that terrible sunday night as to prevent the people from sleeping. they were compared to the "discharge of artillery close at hand," and caused a rattling of doors, windows, pictures, and chandeliers. captain watson of the _charles bal_, who chanced to be only miles south of the volcano, also compared the sounds to discharges of artillery, but this only shows the feebleness of ordinary language in attempting to describe such extraordinary sounds, for if they were comparable to close artillery at batavia, the same comparison is inappropriate at only ten miles' distance. he also mentions the crackling noise, probably due to the impact of fragments in the atmosphere, which were noticed by the hermit and nigel while standing stunned and almost stupefied on the giddy ledge of rakata that same sunday. about five in the evening of that day, the brig _sunshine_ drew still nearer to the island, but the commotion at the time became so intense, and the intermittent darkness so profound, that captain roy was afraid to continue the voyage and shortened sail. not only was there a heavy rolling sea, but the water was seething, as if about to boil. "heave the lead, mr moor," said the captain, who stood beside the wheel. "yes, sir," answered the imperturbable second mate, who thereupon gave the necessary order, and when the depth was ascertained, the report was "ten fathoms, sand, with a hot bottom." "a hot bottom! what do you mean?" "the lead's 'ot, sir," replied the sailor. this was true, as the captain found when he applied his hand to it. "i do believe the world's going on fire," he muttered; "but it's a comfort to know that it can't very well blaze up as long as the sea lasts!" just then a rain of pumice in large pieces, and quite warm, began to fall upon the deck. as most people know, pumice is extremely light, so that no absolute injury was done to any one, though such rain was excessively trying. soon, however, a change took place. the dense vapours and dust-clouds which had rendered it so excessively dark were entirely lighted up from time to time by fierce flashes of lightning which rent as well as painted them in all directions. at one time this great mass of clouds presented the appearance of an immense pine-tree with the stem and branches formed of volcanic lightning. captain roy, fearing that these tremendous sights and sounds would terrify the poor girl in the cabin, was about to look in and reassure her, when the words "oh! how splendid!" came through the slightly opened door. he peeped in and saw kathleen on her knees on the stern locker, with her hands clasped, gazing out of one of the stern windows. "hm! she's all right," he muttered, softly re-closing the door and returning on deck. "if she thinks it's splendid, she don't need no comfortin'! it's quite clear that she don't know what danger means--and why should she? humph! there go some more splendid sights for her," he added, as what appeared to be chains of fire ascended from the volcano to the sky. just then a soft rain began to fall. it was warm, and, on examination at the binnacle-lamp, turned out to be mud. slight at first, it soon poured down in such quantities that in ten minutes it lay six inches thick on the deck, and the crew had to set to work with shovels to heave it overboard. at this time there was seen a continual roll of balls of white fire down the sides of the peak of rakata, caused, doubtless, by the ejection of white-hot fragments of lava. then showers of masses like iron cinders fell on the brig, and from that time onward till four o'clock of the morning of the th, explosions of indescribable grandeur continually took place, as if the mountains were in a continuous roar of terrestrial agony--the sky being at one moment of inky blackness, the next in a blaze of light, while hot, choking, and sulphurous smells almost stifled the voyagers. at this point the captain again became anxious about kathleen and went below. he found her in the same place and attitude--still fascinated! "my child," he said, taking her hand, "you must lie down and rest." "oh! no. do let me stay up," she begged, entreatingly. "but you must be tired--sleepy." "sleepy! who could sleep with such wonders going on around? pray _don't_ tell me to go to bed!" it was evident that poor kathy had the duty of obedience to authority still strong upon her. perhaps the memory of the holbein nursery had not yet been wiped out. "well, well," said the captain with a pathetic smile, "you are as safe-- comfortable, i mean--here as in your berth or anywhere else." as there was a lull in the violence of the eruption just then, the captain left kathleen in the cabin and went on deck. it was not known at that time what caused this lull, but as it preceded the first of the four grand explosions which effectually eviscerated--emptied--the ancient crater of krakatoa, we will give, briefly, the explanation of it as conjectured by the men of science. lying as it did so close to the sea-level, the krakatoa volcano, having blown away all its cones, and vents, and safety-valves--from perboewatan southward, except the peak of rakata--let the sea rush in upon its infernal fires. this result, ordinary people think, produced a gush of steam which caused the grand terminal explosions. vulcanologists think otherwise, and with reason--which is more than can be said of ordinary people, who little know the power of the forces at work below the crust of our earth! the steam thus produced, although on so stupendous a scale, was free to expand and therefore went upwards, no doubt in a sufficiently effective gust and cloud. but nothing worthy of being named a blow-up was there. the effect of the in-rushing water was to cool the upper surface of the boiling lava and convert it into a thick hard solid crust at the mouth of the great vent. in this condition the volcano resembled a boiler with all points of egress closed and the safety-valve shut down! oceans of molten lava creating expansive gases below; no outlet possible underneath, and the neck of the bottle corked with tons of solid rock! one of two things must happen in such circumstances: the cork must go or the bottle must burst! both events happened on that terrible night. all night long the corks were going, and at last--krakatoa burst! in the hurly-burly of confusion, smoke, and noise, no eye could note the precise moment when the island was shattered, but there were on the morning of the th four supreme explosions, which rang loud and high above the horrible average din. these occurred--according to the careful investigations made, at the instance of the dutch indian government, by the eminent geologist, mr r.d.m. verbeek--at the hours of : , : , : , and : in the morning. of these the third, about , was by far the worst for violence and for the widespread devastation which it produced. at each of these explosions a tremendous sea-wave was created by the volcano, which swept like a watery ring from krakatoa as a centre to the surrounding shores. it was at the second of these explosions--that of : --that the fall of the mighty cliff took place which was seen by the hermit and his friends as they fled from the island, and, on the crest of the resulting wave, were carried along they scarce knew whither. as the previous wave--that of : --had given the brig a tremendous heave upwards, the captain, on hearing the second, ran down below for a moment to tell kathleen there would soon be another wave, but that she need fear no danger. "the brig is deep and has a good hold o' the water," he said, "so the wave is sure to slip under her without damage. i wish i could hope it would do as little damage when it reaches the shore." as he spoke a strange and violent crash was heard overhead, quite different from volcanic explosions, like the falling of some heavy body on the deck. "one o' the yards down!" muttered the captain as he ran to the cabin door. "hallo, what's that, mr moor?" "canoe just come aboard, sir." "a canoe?" "yes, sir. crew, three men and a monkey. all insensible--hallo!" the "hallo!" with which the second mate finished his remark was so unlike his wonted tone, and so full of genuine surprise, that the captain ran forward with unusual haste, and found a canoe smashed to pieces against the foremast, and the mate held a lantern close to the face of one of the men while the crew were examining the others. a single glance told the captain that the mud-bespattered figure that lay before him as if dead was none other than his own son! the great wave had caught the frail craft on its crest, and, sweeping it along with lightning speed for a short distance, had hurled it on the deck of the _sunshine_ with such violence as to completely stun the whole crew. even spinkie lay in a melancholy little heap in the lee scuppers. you think this a far-fetched coincidence, good reader! well, all we can say is that we could tell you of another--a double-coincidence, which was far more extraordinary than this one, but as it has nothing to do with our tale we refrain from inflicting it on you. chapter twenty six. a climax. three of those who had tumbled thus unceremoniously on the deck of the _sunshine_ were soon sufficiently recovered to sit up and look around in dazed astonishment--namely nigel, moses, and the monkey--but the hermit still lay prone where he had been cast, with a pretty severe wound on his head, from which blood was flowing freely. "nigel, my boy!" "father!" exclaimed the youth. "where am i? what has happened?" "don't excite yourself, lad," said the mariner, stooping and whispering into his son's ear. "we've got _her_ aboard!" no treatment could have been more effectual in bringing nigel to his senses than this whisper. "is--is--van der kemp safe?" he asked anxiously. "all right--only stunned, i think. that's him they're just goin' to carry below. put 'im in my bunk, mr moor." "ay ay, sir." nigel sprang up. "stay, father," he said in a low voice. "_she_ must not see him for the first time like this." "all right, boy. i understand. you leave that to me. my bunk has bin shifted for'id--more amidships--an' kathy's well aft. they shan't be let run foul of each other. you go an' rest on the main hatch till we get him down. why, here's a nigger! where did you pick him? oh! i remember. you're the man we met, i suppose, wi' the hermit on krakatoa that day o' the excursion from batavia." "yes, das me. but we'll meet on krakatoa no more, for dat place am blown to bits." "i'm pretty well convinced o' that by this time, my man. not hurt much, i hope?" "no, sar--not more 'n i can stan'. but i's 'fraid dat poor spinkie's a'most used up--hallo! what you gwine to do with massa?" demanded the negro, whose wandering faculties had only in part returned. "he's gone below. all right. now, you go and lie down beside my son on the hatch. i'll--see to van der kemp." but captain david roy's intentions, like those of many men of greater note, were frustrated by the hermit himself, who recovered consciousness just as the four men who carried him reached the foot of the companion-ladder close to the cabin door. owing to the deeper than midnight darkness that prevailed a lamp was burning in the cabin--dimly, as if, infected by the universal chaos, it were unwilling to enlighten the surrounding gloom. on recovering consciousness van der kemp was, not unnaturally, under the impression that he had fallen into the hands of foes. with one effectual convulsion of his powerful limbs he scattered his bearers right and left, and turning--like all honest men--to the light, he sprang into the cabin, wrenched a chair from its fastenings, and, facing round, stood at bay. kathleen, seeing this blood-stained giant in such violent action, naturally fled to her cabin and shut the door. as no worse enemy than captain roy presented himself at the cabin door, unarmed, and with an anxious look on his rugged face, the hermit set down the chair, and feeling giddy sank down on it with a groan. "i fear you are badly hurt, sir. let me tie a handkerchief round your wounded head," said the captain soothingly. "thanks, thanks. your voice is not unfamiliar to me," returned the hermit with a sigh, as he submitted to the operation. "i thought i had fallen somehow into the hands of pirates. surely an accident must have happened. how did i get here? where are my comrades--nigel and the negro?" "my son nigel is all right, sir, and so is your man moses. make your mind easy--an' pray don't speak while i'm working at you. i'll explain it all in good time. stay, i'll be with you in a moment." the captain--fearing that kathleen might come out from curiosity to see what was going on, and remembering his son's injunction--went to the girl's berth with the intention of ordering her to keep close until he should give her leave to come out. opening the door softly and looking in, he was startled, almost horrified, to see kathleen standing motionless like a statue, with both hands pressed tightly over her heart. the colour had fled from her beautiful face; her long hair was flung back; her large lustrous eyes were wide open and her lips slightly parted, as if her whole being had been concentrated in eager expectancy. "what's wrong, my girl?" asked the captain anxiously. "you've no cause for fear. i just looked in to--." "that voice!" exclaimed kathleen, with something of awe in her tones--"oh! i've heard it so often in my dreams." "hush! shush! my girl," said the captain in a low tone, looking anxiously round at the wounded man. but his precautions were unavailing,--van der kemp had also heard a voice which he thought had long been silent in death. the girl's expression was almost repeated in his face. before the well-meaning mariner could decide what to do, kathleen brushed lightly past him, and stood in the cabin gazing as if spell-bound at the hermit. "winnie!" he whispered, as if scarcely daring to utter the name. "father!" she extended both hands towards him as she spoke. then, with a piercing shriek, she staggered backward, and would have fallen had not the captain caught her and let her gently down. van der kemp vaulted the table, fell on his knees beside her, and, raising her light form, clasped her to his heart, just as nigel and moses, alarmed by the scream, sprang into the cabin. "come, come; away wi' you--you stoopid grampusses!" cried the captain, pushing the intruders out of the cabin, following them, and closing the door behind him. "this is no place for bunglers like you an' me. we might have known that natur' would have her way, an' didn't need no help from the like o' us. let's on deck. there's enough work there to look after that's better suited to us." truly there was enough--and more than enough--to claim the most anxious attention of all who were on board of the _sunshine_ that morning, for hot mud was still falling in showers on the deck, and the thunders of the great volcano were still shaking heaven, earth, and sea. to clear the decks and sails of mud occupied every one for some time so earnestly that they failed to notice at first that the hermit had come on deck, found a shovel, and was working away like the rest of them. the frequent and prolonged blazes of intense light that ever and anon banished the darkness showed that on his face there sat an expression of calm, settled, triumphant joy, which was strangely mingled with a look of quiet humility. "i thank god for this," said nigel, going forward when he observed him and grasping his hand. "you knew it?" exclaimed the hermit in surprise. "yes. i knew it--indeed, helped to bring you together, but did not dare to tell you till i was quite sure. i had hoped to have you meet in very different circumstances." "`it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps,'" returned the hermit reverently. "god bless you, nigel. if you have even aimed at bringing this about, i owe you _more_ than my life." "you must have lost a good deal of blood, van der kemp. are you much hurt?" asked nigel, as he observed the bandage round his friend's head. "somewhat. not much, i hope--but joy, as well as blood, gives strength, nigel." a report from a man who had just been ordered to take soundings induced the captain at this time to lay-to. "it seems to me," he said to nigel and the hermit who stood close beside him, "that we are getting too near shore. but in cases o' this kind the bottom o' the sea itself can't be depended on." "what part of the shore are we near, d'you think, father?" "stand by to let go the anchor!" roared the captain, instead of answering the question. "ay, ay, sir," replied the second mate, whose cool, sing-song, business-like tone at such a moment actually tended to inspire a measure of confidence in those around him. another moment, and the rattling chain caused a tremor through the vessel, which ceased when the anchor touched bottom, and they rode head to wind. coruscations of bluish light seemed to play about the masts, and balls of electric fire tipped the yards, throwing for a short time a ghastly sheen over the ship and crew, for the profound darkness had again settled down, owing, no doubt, to another choking of the krakatoa vent. before the light referred to went out, moses was struck violently on the chest by, something soft, which caused him to stagger. it was spinkie! in the midst of the unusual horrors that surrounded him, while clinging to the unfamiliar mizzen shrouds on which in desperation the poor monkey had found a temporary refuge, the electric fire showed him the dark figure of his old familiar friend standing not far off. with a shriek of not quite hopeless despair, and an inconceivable bound, spinkie launched himself into space. his early training in the forest stood him in good stead at that crisis! as already said he hit the mark fairly, and clung to moses with a tenacity that was born of mingled love and desperation. finding that nothing short of cruelty would unfix his little friend, moses stuffed him inside the breast of his cotton shirt. in this haven of rest the monkey heaved a sigh of profound contentment, folded his hands on his bosom, and meekly went to sleep. two of the excessively violent paroxysms of the volcano, above referred to, had by that time taken place, but the third, and worst--that which occurred about a.m.--was yet in store for them, though they knew it not, and a lull in the roar, accompanied by thicker darkness than ever, was its precursor. there was not, however, any lull in the violence of the wind. "i don't like these lulls," said captain roy to the hermit, as they stood close to the binnacle, in the feeble light of its lamp. "what is that striking against our sides, mr moor?" "looks like floating pumice, sir," answered the second mate, "and i think i see palm-trees amongst it." "ay, i thought so, we must be close to land," said the captain. "we can't be far from anjer, and i fear the big waves that have already passed us have done some damage. lower a lantern over the side,--no, fetch an empty tar-barrel and let's have a flare. that will enable us to see things better." while the barrel was being fastened to a spar so as to be thrust well out beyond the side of the brig, van der kemp descended the companion and opened the cabin door. "come up now, winnie, darling." "yes, father," was the reply, as the poor girl, who had been anxiously awaiting the summons, glided out and clasped her father's arm with both hands. "are things quieting down?" "they are, a little. it may be temporary, but--our father directs it all." "true, father. i'm _so_ glad of that!" "mind the step, we shall have more light on deck. there is a friend there who has just told me he met you on the cocos-keeling island, nigel roy;--you start, winnie?" "y-yes, father. i am _so_ surprised, for it is _his_ father who sails this ship! and i cannot imagine how he or you came on board." "well, i was going to say that i believe it is partly through nigel that you and i have been brought together, but there is mystery about it that i don't yet understand; much has to be explained, and this assuredly is not the time or place. here, nigel, is your old keeling friend." "ay--friend! humph!" said old roy softly to himself. "my dear--child!" said young roy, paternally, to the girl as he grasped her hand. "i cannot tell you how thankful i am that this has been brought about, and--and that _i_ have had some little hand in it." "there's more than pumice floating about in the sea, sir," said mr moor, coming aft at the moment and speaking to the captain in a low tone. "you'd better send the young lady below--or get some one to take up her attention just now." "here, nigel. sit down under the lee of the companion, an' tell kathy how this all came about," said the captain, promptly, as if issuing nautical orders. "i want you here, van der kemp." so saying, the captain, followed by the hermit, went with the second mate to the place where the flaming tar-barrel was casting a lurid glare upon the troubled sea. chapter twenty seven. "blown to bits." the sight that met their eyes was well calculated to shock and sadden men of much less tender feeling than van der kemp and captain roy. the water had assumed an appearance of inky blackness, and large masses of pumice were floating past, among which were numerous dead bodies of men, women, and children, intermingled with riven trees, fences, and other wreckage from the land, showing that the two great waves which had already passed under the vessel had caused terrible devastation on some parts of the shore. to add to the horror of the scene large sea-snakes were seen swimming wildly about, as if seeking to escape from the novel dangers that surrounded them. the sailors looked on in awe-stricken silence for some time. "p'raps some of 'em may be alive yet!" whispered one. "couldn't we lower a boat?" "impossible in such a sea," said the captain, who overheard the remark. "besides, no life could exist there." "captain roy," said van der kemp earnestly, "let me advise you to get your foresail ready to hoist at a moment's notice, and let them stand by to cut the cable." "why so? there seems no need at present for such strong measures." "you don't understand volcanoes as i do," returned the hermit. "this lull will only last until the imprisoned fires overcome the block in the crater, and the longer it lasts the worse will be the explosion. from my knowledge of the coast i feel sure that we are close to the town of anjer. if another wave like the last comes while we are here, it will not slip under your brig like the last one. it will tear her from her anchor and hurl us all to destruction. you have but one chance; that is, to cut the cable and run in on the top of it--a poor chance at the best, but if god wills, we shall escape." "if we are indeed as near shore as you think," said the captain, "i know what you say must be true, for in shoal water such a wave will surely carry all before it. but are you certain there will be another explosion?" "no man can be sure of that. if the last explosion emptied the crater there will be no more. if it did not, another explosion is certain. all i advise is that you should be ready for whatever is coming, and ready to take your only chance." "right you are, sir. send men to be ready to cut the cable, mr moor. and stand by the topsail halyards." "ay, ay, sir." during the anxious minutes that followed, the hermit rejoined winnie and nigel on the quarterdeck, and conversed with the latter in a low voice, while he drew the former to his side with his strong arm. captain roy himself grasped the wheel and the men stood at their various stations ready for action. "let no man act without orders, whatever happens," said the captain in a deep powerful voice which was heard over the whole ship, for the lull that we have mentioned extended in some degree to the gale as well as to the volcano. every one felt that some catastrophe was pending. "winnie, darling," said the hermit tenderly, as he bent down to see the sweet face that had been restored to him. "i greatly fear that there is soon to be another explosion, and it may be his will that we shall perish, but comfort yourself with the certainty that no hair of your dear head can fall without his permission--and in any event he will not fail us." "i know it, father. i have no fear--at least, only a little!" "nigel," said the hermit, "stick close to us if you can. it may be that, if anything should befall me, your strong arm may succour winnie; mine has lost somewhat of its vigour," he whispered. "trust me--nothing but death shall sunder us," said the anxious youth in a burst of enthusiasm. it seemed as if death were indeed to be the immediate portion of all on board the _sunshine_, for a few minutes later there came a crash, followed by a spout of smoke, fire, steam, and molten lava, compared to which all that had gone before seemed insignificant! the crash was indescribable! as we have said elsewhere, the sound of it was heard many hundreds of miles from the seat of the volcano, and its effects were seen and felt right round the world. the numerous vents which had previously been noticed on krakatoa must at that moment have been blown into one, and the original crater of the old volcano--said to have been about six miles in diameter--must have resumed its destructive work. all the eye-witnesses who were near the spot at the time, and sufficiently calm to take note of the terrific events of that morning, are agreed as to the splendour of the electrical phenomena displayed during this paroxysmal outburst. one who, at the time, was forty miles distant speaks of the great vapour-cloud looking "like an immense wall or blood-red curtain with edges of all shades of yellow, and bursts of forked lightning at times rushing like large serpents through the air." another says that "krakatoa appeared to be alight with flickering flames rising behind a dense black cloud." a third recorded that "the lightning struck the mainmast conductor five or six times," and that "the mud-rain which covered the decks was phosphorescent, while the rigging presented the appearance of saint elmo's fire." it may be remarked here, in passing, that giant steam-jets rushing through the orifices of the earth's crust constitute an enormous hydro-electric engine; and the friction of ejected materials striking against each other in ascending and descending also generates electricity, which accounts to some extent for the electrical condition of the atmosphere. in these final and stupendous outbursts the volcano was expending its remaining force in breaking up and ejecting the solid lava which constituted its framework, and not in merely vomiting forth the lava-froth, or pumice, which had characterised the earlier stages of the eruption. in point of fact--as was afterwards clearly ascertained by careful soundings and estimates, taking the average height of the missing portion at feet above water, and the depth at feet below it--two-thirds of the island were blown entirely off the face of the earth. the mass had covered an area of nearly six miles, and is estimated as being equal to one and one-eighth cubic miles of solid matter which, as moses expressed it, was blown to bits! if this had been all, it would have been enough to claim the attention and excite the wonder of the intelligent world--but this was not nearly all, as we shall see, for saddest of all the incidents connected with the eruption is the fact that upwards of thirty-six thousand human beings lost their lives. the manner in which that terrible loss occurred shall be shown by the future adventures of the _sunshine_. chapter twenty eight. the fate of the "sunshine." stunned at first, for a few minutes, by the extreme violence of the explosion, no one on board the _sunshine_ spoke, though each man stood at his post ready to act. "strange," said the captain at last. "there seems to be no big wave this time." "that only shows that we are not as near the island as we thought. but it won't be long of--see! there it comes," said the hermit. "now, winnie, cling to my arm and put your trust in god." nigel, who had secured a life-buoy, moved close to the girl's side, and looking anxiously out ahead saw a faint line of foam in the thick darkness which had succeeded the explosion. already the distant roar of the billow was heard, proving that it had begun to break. "the wind comes with it," said van der kemp. "stand by!" cried the captain, gazing intently over the side. next moment came the sharp order to hoist the foretopsail and jib, soon followed by "cut the cable!" there was breeze enough to swing the vessel quickly round. in a few seconds her stern was presented to the coming wave, and her bow cleft the water as she rushed upon what every one now knew was her doom. to escape the great wave was no part of the captain's plan. to have reached the shore before the wave would have been fatal to all. their only hope lay in the possibility of riding in on the top of it, and the great danger was that they should be unable to rise to it stern first when it came up, or that they should turn broadside on and be rolled over. they had not long to wait. the size of the wave, before it came near enough to be seen, was indicated by its solemn, deep-toned, ever-increasing roar. the captain stood at the wheel himself, guiding the brig and glancing back from time to time uneasily. suddenly the volcano gave vent to its fourth and final explosion. it was not so violent as its predecessors had been, though more so than any that had occurred on the day before, and the light of it showed them the full terrors of their situation, for it revealed the mountains of java-- apparently quite close in front, though in reality at a considerable distance--with a line of breakers beating white on the shore. but astern of them was the most appalling sight, for there, rushing on with awful speed and a sort of hissing roar, came the monstrous wave, emerging, as it were, out of thick darkness, like a mighty wall of water with a foaming white crest, not much less--according to an average of the most reliable estimates--than feet high. well might the seamen blanch, for never before in all their varied experience had they seen the like of that. on it came with the unwavering force of fate. to the eye of captain roy it appeared that up its huge towering side no vessel made by mortal man could climb. but the captain had too often stared death in the face to be unmanned by the prospect now. steadily he steered the vessel straight on, and in a quiet voice said-- "lay hold of something firm--every man!" the warning was well timed. in the amazement, if not fear, caused by the unwonted sight, some had neglected the needful precaution. as the billow came on, the bubbling, leaping, and seething of its crest was apparent both to eye and ear. then the roar became tremendous. "darling winnie," said nigel at that moment. "i will die for you or with you!" the poor girl heard, but no sign of appreciation moved her pale face as she gazed up at the approaching chaos of waters. next moment the brig seemed to stand on its bows. van der kemp had placed his daughter against the mast, and, throwing his long arms round both, held on. nigel, close to them, had grasped a handful of ropes, and every one else was holding on for life. another moment and the brig rose as if it were being tossed up to the heavens. immediately thereafter it resumed its natural position in a perfect wilderness of foam. they were on the summit of the great wave, which was so large that its crest seemed like a broad, rounded mass of tumbling snow with blackness before and behind, while the roar of the tumult was deafening. the brig rushed onward at a speed which she had never before equalled even in the fiercest gale--tossed hither and thither by the leaping foam, yet always kept going straight onward by the expert steering of her captain. "come aft--all of you!" he shouted, when it was evident that the vessel was being borne surely forward on the wave's crest. "the masts will go for certain when we strike." the danger of being entangled in the falling spars and cordage was so obvious that every one except the hermit and nigel obeyed. "here, nigel," gasped the former. "i--i've--lost blood--faint!--" our hero at once saw that van der kemp, fainting from previous loss of blood, coupled with exertion, was unable to do anything but hold on. indeed, he failed even in that, and would have fallen to the deck had nigel not caught him by the arm. "can you run aft, winnie?" said nigel anxiously. "yes!" said the girl, at once understanding the situation and darting to the wheel, of which and of captain roy she laid firm hold, while nigel lifted the hermit in his arms and staggered to the same spot. winnie knelt beside him immediately, and, forgetting for the moment all the horrors around her, busied herself in replacing the bandage which had been loosened from his head. "oh! mr roy, save him!--save him!" cried the poor child, appealing in an agony to nigel, for she felt instinctively that when the crash came her father would be utterly helpless even to save himself. nigel had barely time to answer when a wild shout from the crew caused him to start up and look round. a flare from the volcano had cast a red light over the bewildering scene, and revealed the fact that the brig was no longer above the ocean's bed, but was passing in its wild career right through, or rather _over_, the demolished town of anjer. a few of the houses that had been left standing by the previous waves were being swept--hurled--away by this one, but the mass of rolling, rushing, spouting water was so deep, that the vessel had as yet struck nothing save the tops of some palm-trees which bent their heads like straws before the flood. even in the midst of the amazement, alarm, and anxiety caused by the situation, nigel could not help wondering that in this final and complete destruction of the town no sign of struggling human beings should be visible. he forgot at the moment, what was terribly proved afterwards, that the first waves had swallowed up men, women, and children by hundreds, and that the few who survived had fled to the hills, leaving nothing for the larger wave to do but complete the work of devastation on inanimate objects. ere the situation had been well realised the volcanic fires went down again, and left the world, for over a hundred surrounding miles, in opaque darkness. only the humble flicker of the binnacle-light, like a trusty sentinel on duty, continued to shed its feeble rays on a few feet of the deck, and showed that the compass at least was still faithful to the pole! then another volcanic outburst revealed the fact that the wave which carried them was thundering on in the direction of a considerable cliff or precipice--not indeed quite straight towards it, but sufficiently so to render escape doubtful. at the same time a swarm of terror-stricken people were seen flying towards this cliff and clambering up its steep sides. they were probably some of the more courageous of the inhabitants who had summoned courage to return to their homes after the passage of the second wave. their shrieks and cries could be heard above even the roaring of the water and the detonations of the volcano. "god spare us!" exclaimed poor winnie, whose trembling form was now partially supported by nigel. as she spoke darkness again obscured everything, and they could do naught but listen to the terrible sounds--and pray. on--on went the _sunshine_, in the midst of wreck and ruin, on this strange voyage over land and water, until a check was felt. it was not a crash as had been anticipated, and as might have naturally been expected, neither was it an abrupt stoppage. there was first a hissing, scraping sound against the vessel's sides, then a steady checking--we might almost say a hindrance to progress--not violent, yet so very decided that the rigging could not bear the strain. one and another of the backstays parted, the foretopsail burst with a cannon-like report, after which a terrible rending sound, followed by an indescribable crash, told that both masts had gone by the board. then all was comparatively still--comparatively we say, for water still hissed and leaped beneath them like a rushing river, though it no longer roared, and the wind blew in unfamiliar strains and laden with unwonted odours. at that moment another outburst of krakatoa revealed the fact that the great wave had borne the brig inland for upwards of a mile, and left her imbedded in a thick grove of cocoa-nut palms! chapter twenty nine. tells chiefly of the wonderful effects of this eruption on the world at large. the great explosions of that morning had done more damage and had achieved results more astounding than lies in the power of language adequately to describe, or of history to parallel. let us take a glance at this subject in passing. an inhabitant of anjer--owner of a hotel, a ship-chandler's store, two houses, and a dozen boats--went down to the beach about six on the morning of that fateful th of august. he had naturally been impressed by the night of the th, though, accustomed as he was to volcanic eruptions, he felt no apprehensions as to the safety of the town. he went to look to the moorings of his boats, leaving his family of seven behind him. while engaged in this work he observed a wave of immense size approaching. he leaped into one of his boats, which was caught up by the wave and swept inland, carrying its owner there in safety. but this was the wave that sealed the doom of the town and most of its inhabitants, including the hotel-keeper's family and all that he possessed. this is one only out of thousands of cases of bereavement and destruction. a lighthouse-keeper was seated in his solitary watch-tower, speculating, doubtless, on the probable continuance of such a violent outbreak, while his family and mates--accustomed to sleep in the midst of elemental war--were resting peacefully in the rooms below, when one of the mighty waves suddenly appeared, thundered past, and swept the lighthouse with all its inhabitants away. this shows but one of the many disasters to lighthouses in sunda straits. a dutch man-of-war--the _berouw_--was lying at anchor in lampong bay, fifty miles from krakatoa. the great wave came, tore it from its anchorage, and carried it--like the vessel of our friend david roy-- nearly two miles inland! masses of coral of immense size and weight were carried four miles inland by the same wave. the river at anjer was choked up; the conduit which used to carry water into the place was destroyed, and the town itself was laid in ruins. but these are only a few of the incidents of the great catastrophe. who can conceive, much less tell of, those terrible details of sudden death and disaster to thousands of human beings, resulting from an eruption which destroyed towns like telok betong, anjer, tyringin, etcetera, besides numerous villages and hamlets on the shores of java and sumatra, and caused the destruction of more than , souls? but it is to results of a very different kind, and on a much more extended scale, that we must turn if we would properly estimate the magnitude, the wide-spreading and far-reaching influences, and the extraordinary character, of the krakatoa outburst of . in the first place, it is a fact, testified to by some of the best-known men of science, that the shock of the explosion extended _appreciably_ right round the world, and seventeen miles, (some say even higher!) up into the heavens. mr verbeek, in his treatise on this subject, estimates that a cubic mile of krakatoa was propelled in the form of the finest dust into the higher regions of the atmosphere--probably about thirty miles! the dust thus sent into the sky was of "ultra-microscopic fineness," and it travelled round and round the world in a westerly direction, producing those extraordinary sunsets and gorgeous effects and afterglows which became visible in the british isles in the month of november following the eruption; and the mighty waves which caused such destruction in the vicinity of sunda straits travelled--not once, but at least--six times round the globe, as was proved by trustworthy and independent observations of tide-gauges and barometers made and recorded at the same time in nearly all lands--including our own. other volcanoes, it is said by those who have a right to speak in regard to such matters, have ejected more "stuff," but not one has equalled krakatoa in the intensity of its explosions, the appalling results of the sea-waves, the wonderful effects in the sky, and the almost miraculous nature of the sounds. seated on a log under a palm-tree in batavia, on that momentous morning of the th, was a sailor who had been left behind sick by captain roy when he went on his rather quixotic trip to the keeling islands. he was a somewhat delicate son of the sea. want of self-restraint was his complaint--leading to a surfeit of fruit and other things, which terminated in a severe fit of indigestion and indisposition to life in general. he was smoking--that being a sovereign and infallible cure for indigestion and all other ills that flesh is heir to, as every one knows! "i say, old man," he inquired, with that cheerful tone and air which usually accompanies incapacity for food. "do it always rain ashes here?" the old man whom he addressed was a veteran malay seaman. "no," replied the malay, "sometimes it rain mud--hot mud." "do it? oh! well--anything for variety, i s'pose," returned the sailor, with a growl which had reference to internal disarrangements. "is it often as dark as this in the daytime, an' is the sun usually green?" he asked carelessly, more for the sake of distracting the mind from other matters than for the desire of knowledge. "sometime it's more darker," replied the old man. "i've seed it so dark that you couldn't see how awful dark it was." as he spoke, a sound that has been described by ear-witnesses as "deafening," smote upon their tympanums, the log on which they sat quivered, the earth seemed to tremble, and several dishes in a neighbouring hut were thrown down and broken. "i say, old man, suthin' busted there," remarked the sailor, taking the pipe from his mouth and quietly ramming its contents down with the end of his blunt forefinger. the malay looked grave. "the gasometer?" suggested the sailor. "no, that _never_ busts." "a noo mountain come into action, p'raps, an blow'd its top _off_?" "shouldn't wonder if that's it--close at hand too. we's used to that here. but them's bigger cracks than or'nar'." the old malay was right as to the cause, but wrong as to distance. instead of being a volcano "close at hand," it was krakatoa eviscerating itself a hundred miles off, and the sound of its last grand effort "extended over degrees, equal to about miles." on that day all the gas lights were extinguished in batavia, and the pictures rattled on the walls as though from the action of an earthquake. but there was no earthquake. it was the air-wave from krakatoa, and the noise produced by the air-waves that followed was described as "deafening." the effect of the sounds of the explosions on the straits settlements generally was not only striking but to some extent amusing. at carimon, in java-- miles distant from krakatoa--it was supposed that a vessel in distress was firing guns, and several native boats were sent off to render assistance, but no distressed vessel was to be found! at acheen, in sumatra-- miles distant--they supposed that a fort was being attacked and the troops were turned out under arms. at singapore-- miles off--they fancied that the detonations came from a vessel in distress and two steamers were despatched to search for it. and here the effect on the telephone, extending to ishore, was remarkable. on raising the tubes a perfect roar as of a waterfall was heard. by shouting at the top of his voice, the clerk at one end could make the clerk at the other end hear, but he could not render a word intelligible. at perak-- miles off--the sounds were thought to be distant salvos of artillery, and commander the honourable f vereker, r.n., of h.m.s. _magpie_, when miles distant, (in latitude degrees minutes north, longitude degrees minutes east), states that the detonations of krakatoa were distinctly heard by those on board his ship, and by the inhabitants of the coast as far as banguey island, on august th. he adds that they resembled distant heavy cannonading. in a letter from saint lucia bay-- miles distant--it was stated that the eruption was plainly heard all over borneo. a government steamer was sent out from the island of timor-- miles off--to ascertain the cause of the disturbance! in south australia also, at places miles away, explosions were heard on the th and th which "awakened" people, and were thought worthy of being recorded and reported. from tavoy, in burmah-- miles away--the report came--"all day on august th unusual sounds were heard, resembling the boom of guns. thinking there might be a wreck or a ship in distress, the tavoy superintendent sent out the police launch, but they `could see nothing.'" and so on, far and near, similar records were made, the most distant spot where the sounds were reported to have been heard being rodriguez, in the pacific, nearly miles distant! one peculiar feature of the records is that some ships in the immediate neighbourhood of krakatoa did not experience the shock in proportionate severity. probably this was owing to their being so near that a great part of the concussion and sound flew over them--somewhat in the same way that the pieces of a bomb-shell fly over men who, being too near to escape by running, escape by flinging themselves flat on the ground. each air-wave which conveyed these sounds, commencing at krakatoa as a centre, spread out in an ever-increasing circle till it reached a distance of degrees from its origin and encircled the earth at its widest part, after which it continued to advance in a contracting form until it reached the antipodes of the volcano; whence it was reflected or reproduced and travelled back again to krakatoa. here it was turned right-about-face and again despatched on its long journey. in this way it oscillated backward and forward not fewer than six times before traces of it were lost. we say "traces," because these remarkable facts were ascertained, tracked, and corroborated by independent barometric observation in all parts of the earth. for instance, the passage of the great air-wave from krakatoa to its antipodes, and from its antipodes back to krakatoa, was registered six times by the automatic barometer at greenwich. the instrument at kew observatory confirmed the records of greenwich, and so did the barometers of other places in the kingdom. everywhere in europe also this fact was corroborated, and in some places even a seventh oscillation was recorded. the greenwich record shows that the air-waves took about thirty-six hours to travel from pole to pole, thus proving that they travelled at about the rate of ordinary sound-waves, which, roughly speaking, travel at the rate of between six and seven hundred miles an hour. the height of the sea-waves that devastated the neighbouring shores, being variously estimated at from to feet, is sufficiently accounted for by the intervention of islands and headlands, etcetera, which, of course, tended to diminish the force, height, and volume of waves in varying degrees. these, like the air-waves, were also registered--by self-acting tide-gauges and by personal observation--all over the world, and the observations _coincided as to date with the great eruptions of the th and th of august_. the influence of the sea-waves was observed and noted in the java sea--which is shallow and where there are innumerable obstructions--as far as miles, but to the west they swept over the deep waters of the indian ocean on to cape horn, and even, it is said, to the english channel. the unusual disturbance of ocean in various places was sufficiently striking. at galle, in ceylon, where the usual rise and fall of the tide is feet, the master-attendant reports that on the afternoon of the th four remarkable waves were noticed in the port. the last of these was preceded by an unusual recession of the sea to such an extent that small boats at their anchorage were left aground--a thing that had never been seen before. the period of recession was only one-and-a-half minutes; then the water paused, as it were, for a brief space, and, beginning to rise, reached the level of the highest high-water mark in less than two minutes, thus marking a difference of feet inches instead of the ordinary feet. at one place there was an ebb and flood tide, of unusual extent, within half-an-hour. at another, a belt of land, including a burying-ground, was washed away, so that, according to the observer, "it appeared as if the dead had sought shelter with the living in a neighbouring cocoa-nut garden!" elsewhere the tides were seen to advance and recede ten or twelve times--in one case even twenty times--on the th. at trincomalee the sea receded three times and returned with singular force, at one period leaving part of the shore suddenly bare, with fish struggling in the mud. the utilitarian tendency of mankind was at once made manifest by some fishermen who, seizing the opportunity, dashed into the struggling mass and began to reap the accidental harvest, when--alas for the poor fishermen!--the sea rushed in again and drove them all away. in the mauritius, however, the fishers were more fortunate, for when their beach was exposed in a similar manner, they succeeded in capturing a good many fish before the water returned. even sharks were disturbed in their sinister and slimy habits of life by this outburst of krakatoa--and no wonder, when it is recorded that in some places "the sea looked like water boiling heavily in a pot," and that "the boats which were afloat were swinging in all directions." at one place several of these monsters were flung out of their native home into pools, where they were left struggling till their enemy man terminated their career. everywhere those great waves produced phenomena which were so striking as to attract the attention of all classes of people, to ensure record in most parts of the world, and to call for the earnest investigation of the scientific men of many lands--and the conclusion to which such men have almost universally come is, that the strange vagaries of the sea all over the earth, the mysterious sounds heard in so many widely distant places, and the wonderful effects in the skies of every quarter of the globe, were all due to the eruption of the krakatoa volcano in . with reference to these last--the sky-effects--a few words may not be out of place here. the superfine "ultra-microscopic" dust, which was blown by the volcano in quantities so enormous to such unusual heights, was, after dropping its heavier particles back to earth, caught by the breezes which always blow in the higher regions from east to west, and carried by them for many months round and round the world. the dust was thickly and not widely spread at first, but as time went on it gradually extended itself on either side, becoming visible to more and more of earth's inhabitants, and at the same time becoming necessarily less dense. through this medium the sun's rays had to penetrate. in so far as the dust-particles were opaque they would obscure these rays; where they were transparent or polished they would refract and reflect them. that the material of which those dust-particles was composed was very various has been ascertained, proved, and recorded by the krakatoa committee. the attempt to expound this matter would probably overtax the endurance of the average reader, yet it may interest all to know that this dust-cloud travelled westward within the tropics at the rate of about double the speed of an express train--say miles an hour; crossed the indian ocean and africa in three days, the atlantic in two, america in two, and, in short, put a girdle round the world in thirteen days. moreover, the cloud of dust was so big that it took two or three days to pass any given point. during its second circumnavigation it was considerably spread and thinned, and the third time still more so, having expanded enough to include europe and the greater part of north america. it had thinned away altogether and disappeared in the spring of . who has not seen--at least read or heard of--the gorgeous skies of the autumn of ? not only in britain, but in all parts of the world, these same skies were seen, admired, and commented on as marvellous. and so they were. one of the chief peculiarities about them, besides their splendour, was the fact that they consisted chiefly of "afterglows"--that is, an increase of light and splendour _after_ the setting of the sun, when, in an ordinary state of things, the grey shadows of evening would have descended on the world. greenish-blue suns; pink clouds; bright yellow, orange, and crimson afterglows; gorgeous, magnificent, blood-red skies--the commentators seemed unable to find language adequately to describe them. listen to a german observer's remarks on the subject:-- "the display of november th was the grandest and most manifold. i give a description as exactly as possible, for its overwhelming magnificence still presents itself to me as if it had been yesterday. when the sun had set about a quarter of an hour there was not much afterglow, but i had observed a remarkably yellow bow in the south, about degrees above the horizon. in about ten minutes more this arc rose pretty quickly, extended itself all over the east and up to and beyond the zenith. the sailors declared, `sir, that is the northern lights.' i thought i had never seen northern lights in greater splendour. after five minutes more the light had faded, though not vanished, in the east and south, and the finest purple-red rose up in the south-west; one could imagine one's-self in fairyland." all this, and a great deal more, was caused by the dust of krakatoa! "but how--how--why?" exclaims an impatient and puzzled reader. "ay--there's the rub." rubbing, by the way, may have had something to do with it. at all events we are safe to say that whatever there was of electricity in the matter resulted from friction. here is what the men of science say--as far as we can gather and condense. the fine dust blown out of krakatoa was found, under the microscope, to consist of excessively thin, transparent plates or irregular specks of pumice--which inconceivably minute fragments were caused by enormous steam pressure in the interior and the sudden expansion of the masses blown out into the atmosphere. of this glassy dust, that which was blown into the regions beyond the clouds must have been much finer even than that which was examined. these glass fragments were said by dr flugel to contain either innumerable air-bubbles or minute needle-like crystals, or both. small though these vesicles were when ejected from the volcano, they would become still smaller by bursting when they suddenly reached a much lower pressure of atmosphere at a great height. some of them, however, owing to tenacity of material and other causes, might have failed to burst and would remain floating in the upper air as perfect microscopic glass balloons. thus the dust was a mass of particles of every conceivable shape, and so fine that no watches, boxes, or instruments were tight enough to exclude from their interior even that portion of the dust which was heavy enough to remain on earth! now, to the unscientific reader it is useless to say more than that the innumerable and varied positions of these glassy particles, some transparent, others semi-transparent or opaque, reflecting the sun's rays in different directions, with a complex modification of colour and effect resulting from the blueness of the sky, the condition of the atmosphere, and many other causes--all combined to produce the remarkable appearances of light and colour which aroused the admiration and wonder of the world in . the more one thinks of these things, and the deeper one dives into the mysteries of nature, the more profoundly is one impressed at once with a humbling sense of the limited amount of one's knowledge, and an awe-inspiring appreciation of the illimitable fields suggested by that comprehensive expression: "the wonderful works of god." chapter thirty. coming events, etcetera--wonderful changes among the islands. some days after the wreck of the _sunshine_, as described in a previous chapter, captain roy and his son stood on the coast of java not far from the ruins of anjer. a vessel was anchored in the offing, and a little boat lay on the shore. all sign of elemental strife had passed, though a cloud of smoke hanging over the remains of krakatoa told that the terrible giant below was not dead but only sleeping--to awake, perchance, after a nap of another years. "well, father," said our hero with a modest look, "it may be, as you suggest, that winnie van der kemp does not care for me more than for a fathom of salt water--" "i did not say salt water, lad, i said bilge--a fathom o' _bilge_ water," interrupted the captain, who, although secretly rejoiced at the fact of his son having fallen over head and ears in love with the pretty little cocos-keeling islander, deemed it his duty, nevertheless, as a sternly upright parent, to make quite sure that the love was mutual as well as deep before giving his consent to anything like courtship. "it matters not; salt or bilge water makes little difference," returned the son with a smile. "but all i can say is that i care for winnie so much that her love is to me of as much importance as sunshine to the world--and we have had some experience lately of what the want of _that_ means." "nonsense, nigel," returned the captain severely. "you're workin' yourself into them up-in-the-clouds, reef-point-patterin' regions again--which, by the way, should be pretty well choked wi' krakatoa dust by this time. come down out o' that if ye want to hold or'nary intercourse wi' your old father. she's far too young yet, my boy. you must just do as many a young fellow has done before you, attend to your dooties and forget her." "forget her!" returned the youth, with that amused, quiet expression which wise men sometimes assume when listening to foolish suggestions. "i could almost as easily forget my mother!" "a very proper sentiment, nigel, very--especially the `almost' part of it." "besides," continued the son, "she is not so _very_ young--and that difficulty remedies itself every hour. moreover, i too am young. i can wait." "the selfishness of youth is only equalled by its presumption," said the captain. "how d'ee know _she_ will wait?" "i don't know, father, but i _hope_ she will--i--_think_ she will." "nigel," said the captain, in a tone and with a look that were meant to imply intense solemnity, "have you ever spoken to her about love?" "no, father." "has she ever spoken to _you_?" "no--at least--not with her lips." "come, boy, you're humbuggin' your old father. her tongue couldn't well do it without the lips lendin' a hand." "well then--with neither," returned the son. "she spoke with her eyes-- not intentionally, of course, for the eyes, unlike the lips, refuse to be under control." "hm! i see--reef-point-patterin' poetics again! an' what did she say with her eyes!" "really, father, you press me too hard; it is difficult to translate eye-language, but if you'll only let memory have free play and revert to that time, nigh quarter of a century ago, when you first met with a certain _real_ poetess, perhaps--" "ah! you dog! you have me there. but how dare you, sir, venture to think of marryin' on nothin'?" "i don't think of doing so. am i not a first mate with a handsome salary?" "no, lad, you're not. you're nothin' better than a seaman out o' work, with your late ship wrecked in a cocoa-nut grove!" "that's true," returned nigel with a laugh. "but is not the cargo of the said ship safe in batavia? has not its owner a good bank account in england? won't another ship be wanted, and another first mate, and would the owner dare to pass over his own son, who is such a competent seaman--according to your own showing? come, father, i turn the tables on you and ask you to aid rather than resist me in this matter." "well, i will, my boy, i will," said the captain heartily, as he laid his hand on his son's shoulder. "but, seriously, you must haul off this little craft and clap a stopper on your tongue--ay, and on your eyes too--till three points are considered an' made quite clear. first, you must find out whether the hermit would be agreeable. second, you must look the matter straight in the face and make quite sure that you mean it. for better or for worse. no undoin' _that_ knot, nigel, once it's fairly tied! and, third, you must make quite sure that winnie is sure of her own mind, an' that--that--" "we're all sure all round, father. quite right. i agree with you. `all fair an' aboveboard' should be the sailing orders of every man in such matters, especially of every seaman. but, will you explain how i am to make sure of winnie's state of mind without asking her about it?" "well, i don't exactly see my way," replied the captain slowly. "what d'ee say to my soundin' her on the subject?" "couldn't think of it! you may be first-rate at deep-sea soundings, father, but you couldn't sound the depths of a young girl's heart. i must reserve that for myself, however long it may be delayed." "so be it, lad. the only embargo that i lay upon you is--haul off, and mind you don't let your figurehead go by the board. meanwhile, here comes the boat. now, nigel, none o' your courtin' till everything is settled and the wind fair--dead aft my lad, and blowin' stiff. you and the hermit are goin' off to krakatoa to-day, i suppose?" "yes. i am just now waiting for him and moses," returned nigel. "is winnie going?" "don't know. i hope so." "humph! well, if we have a fair wind i shall soon be in batavia," said the captain, descending to business matters, "and i expect without trouble to dispose of the cargo that we landed there, as _well_ as that part o' the return cargo which i had bought before i left for keeling-- at a loss, no doubt, but that don't matter much. then i'll come back here by the first craft that offers--arter which. ay!--ay! shove her in here. plenty o' water." the last remark was made to the seaman who steered the boat sent from the vessel in the offing. a short time thereafter captain roy was sailing away for batavia, while his son, with van der kemp, moses, winnie, and spinkie, was making for krakatoa in a native boat. the hermit, in spite of his injuries, had recovered his wonted appearance, if not his wonted vigour. winnie seemed to have suddenly developed into a mature woman under her recent experiences, though she had lost none of her girlish grace and attractiveness. as for moses-- time and tide seemed to have no effect whatever on his ebony frame, and still less, if possible, on his indomitable spirit. "now you keep still," he said in solemn tones and with warning looks to spinkie. "if you keep fidgitin' about you'll capsize de boat. you hear?" spinkie veiled his real affection for the negro under a look of supreme indifference, while winnie went off into a sudden giggle at the idea of such a small creature capsizing the boat. mindful of his father's warning, nigel did his best to "haul off" and to prevent his "figurehead" from going "by the board." but he found it uncommonly hard work, for winnie looked so innocent, so pretty, so unconscious, so sympathetic with everybody and everything, so very young, yet so wondrously wise and womanly, that he felt an irresistible desire to prostrate himself at her feet in abject slavery. "dear little thing," said winnie, putting her hand on spinkie's little head and smoothing him down from eyes to tail. spinkie looked as if half inclined to withdraw his allegiance from moses and bestow it on winnie, but evidently changed his mind after a moment's reflection. "o that i were a monkey!" thought nigel, paraphrasing shakespeare, "that i might--" but it is not fair to our hero to reveal him in his weaker moments! there was something exasperating, too, in being obliged, owing to the size of the boat, to sit so close to winnie without having a right to touch her hand! who has not experienced this, and felt himself to be a very hero of self-denial in the circumstances? "mos' awrful hot!" remarked moses, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. "_you_ hot!" said nigel in surprise. "i thought nothing on earth could be too hot for you." "dat's your ignerance," returned moses calmly. "us niggers, you see, ought to suffer more fro' heat dan you whites." "how so?" "why, don't your flossiphers say dat black am better dan white for 'tractin' heat, an' ain't our skins black? i wish we'd bin' born white as chalk. i say, massa nadgel, seems to me dat dere's not much left ob krakatoa." they had approached near enough to the island by that time to perceive that wonderful changes had indeed taken place, and van der kemp, who had been for some time silently absorbed in contemplation, at last turned to his daughter and said-- "i had feared at first, winnie, that my old home had been blown entirely away, but i see now that the peak of rakata still stands, so perhaps i may yet show you the cave in which i have spent so many years." "but why did you go to live in such a strange place, dear father?" asked the girl, laying her hand lovingly on the hermit's arm. van der kemp did not reply at once. he gazed in his child's face with an increase of that absent air and far-away look which nigel, ever since he met him, had observed as one of his characteristics. at this time an anxious thought crossed him,--that perhaps the blows which his friend had received on his head when he was thrown on the deck of the _sunshine_ might have injured his brain. "it is not easy to answer your question, dear one," he said after a time, laying his strong hand on the girl's head, and smoothing her luxuriant hair which hung in the untrammelled freedom of nature over her shoulders. "i have felt sometimes, during the last few days, as if i were awaking out of a long long dream, or recovering from a severe illness in which delirium had played a prominent part. even now, though i see and touch you, i sometimes tremble lest i should really awake and find that it is all a dream. i have so often--so _very_ often--dreamed something like it in years gone by, but never so vividly as now! i cannot doubt--it is sin to doubt--that my prayers have been at last answered. god is good and wise. he knows what is best and does not fail in bringing the best to pass. yet i have doubted him--again and again." van der kemp paused here and drew his hand across his brow as if to clear away sad memories of the past, while winnie drew closer to him and looked up tenderly in his face. "when your mother died, dear one," he resumed, "it seemed to me as if the sun had left the heavens, and when _you_ were snatched from me, it was as though my soul had fled and nought but animal life remained. i lived as if in a terrible dream. i cannot recall exactly what i did or where i went for a long, long time. i know i wandered through the archipelago looking for you, because i did not believe at first that you were dead. it was at this time i took up my abode in the cave of rakata, and fell in with my good faithful friend moses." "your sarvint, massa," interrupted the negro humbly. "i's proud to be call your frind, but i's only your sarvint, massa." "truly you have been my faithful servant, moses," said van der kemp, "but not the less have you been my trusted friend. he nursed me through a long and severe illness, winnie. how long, i am not quite sure. after a time i nearly lost hope. then there came a very dark period, when i was forced to believe that you must be dead. yet, strange to say, even during this dark time i did not cease to pray and to wander about in search of you. i suppose it was the force of habit, for hope seemed to have died. then, at last, nigel found you. god used him as his instrument. and now, praise to his name, we are reunited--for ever!" "darling father!" were the only words that winnie could utter as she laid her head on the hermit's shoulder and wept for joy. two ideas, which had not occurred to him before, struck nigel with great force at that moment. the one was that whatever or wherever his future household should be established, if winnie was to be its chief ornament, her father must of necessity become a member of it. the other idea was that he was destined to possess a negro servant with a consequent and unavoidable monkey attendant! how strange the links of which the chain of human destiny is formed, and how wonderful the powers of thought by which that chain is occasionally forecast! how to convey all these possessions to england and get them comfortably settled there was a problem which he did not care to tackle just then. "see, winnie," said van der kemp, pointing with interest to a mark on the side of rakata, "yonder is the mouth of my cave. i never saw it so clearly before because of the trees and bushes, but everything seems now to have been burnt up." "das so, massa, an' what hasn't bin bu'nt up has bin blow'd up!" remarked the negro. "looks very like it, moses, unless that is a haze which enshrouds the rest of the island," rejoined the other, shading his eyes with his hands. it was no haze, however; for they found, on drawing nearer, that the greater part of krakatoa had, as we have already said, actually disappeared from the face of the earth. when the boat finally rounded the point which hid the northern part of the island from view, a sight was presented which it is not often given to human eyes to look upon. the whole mountain named the peak of rakata, ( feet high), had been split from top to bottom, and about one-half of it, with all that part of the island lying to the northward, had been blown away, leaving a wall or almost sheer precipice which presented a grand section of the volcano. pushing their boat into a creek at the base of this precipice, the party landed and tried to reach a position from which a commanding view might be obtained. this was not an easy matter, for there was not a spot for a foot to rest on which was not covered deeply with pumice-dust and ashes. by dint of perseverance, however, they gained a ledge whence the surrounding district could be observed, and then it was clearly seen how widespread and stupendous the effects of the explosion had been. where the greater part of the richly wooded island had formerly flourished, the ocean now rippled in the sunshine, and of the smaller islands around it _lang_ island had been considerably increased in bulk as well as in height. _verleden_ island had been enlarged to more than three times its former size and also much increased in height. the island named _polish hat_ had disappeared altogether, and two entirely new islets--afterwards named _steers_ and _calmeyer_ islands--had arisen to the northward. "now, friends," said van der kemp, after they had noted and commented on the vast and wonderful changes that had taken place, "we will pull round to our cave and see what has happened there." descending to the boat they rowed round the southern shores of rakata until they reached the little harbour where the boat and canoe had formerly been kept. chapter thirty one. ends with a struggle between inclination and duty. "cave's blowed away too!" was the first remark of moses as they rowed into the little port. a shock of disappointment was experienced by winnie, for she fancied that the negro had referred to her father's old home, but he only meant the lower cave in which the canoe had formerly been kept. she was soon relieved as to this point, however, but, when a landing was effected, difficulties that seemed to her almost insurmountable presented themselves, for the ground was covered knee-deep with pumice-dust, and the road to the upper cave was blocked by rugged masses of lava and ashes, all heaped up in indescribable confusion. on careful investigation, however, it was found that after passing a certain point the footpath was almost unencumbered by volcanic debris. this was owing to the protection afforded to it by the cone of rakata, and the almost overhanging nature of some of the cliffs on that side of the mountain; still the track was bad enough, and in places so rugged, that winnie, vigorous and agile though she was, found it both difficult and fatiguing to advance. seeing this, her father proposed to carry her, but she laughingly declined the proposal. whereupon nigel offered to lend her a hand over the rougher places, but this she also declined. then moses, stepping forward, asserted his rights. "it's _my_ business," he said, "to carry t'ings when dey's got to be carried. m'r'over, as i's bin obleeged to leabe spinkie in charge ob de boat, i feels okard widout somet'ing to carry, an' you ain't much heavier dan spinkie, miss winnie--so, come along." he stooped with the intention of grasping winnie as if she were a little child, but with a light laugh the girl sprang away and left moses behind. "'s'my opinion," said moses, looking after her with a grin, "dat if de purfesser was here he'd net her in mistook for a bufferfly. dar!--she's down!" he shouted, springing forward, but nigel was before him. winnie had tripped and fallen. "are you hurt, dear--child?" asked nigel, raising her gently. "oh no! only a little shaken," answered winnie, with a little laugh that was half hysterical. "i am strong enough to go on presently." "nay, my child, you _must_ suffer yourself to be carried at this part," said van der kemp. "take her up, nigel, you are stronger than i am _now_. i would not have asked you to do it before my accident!" our hero did not need a second bidding. grasping winnie in his strong arms he raised her as if she had been a feather, and strode away at a pace so rapid that he soon left van der kemp and moses far behind. "put me down, now," said winnie, after a little while, in a low voice. "i'm quite recovered now and can walk." "nay, winnie, you are mistaken. the path is very rough yet, and the dust gets deeper as we ascend. _do_ give me the pleasure of helping you a little longer." whatever winnie may have felt or thought she said nothing, and nigel, taking silence for consent, bore her swiftly onward and upward,--with an "excelsior" spirit that would have thrown the alpine youth with the banner and the strange device considerably into the shade,--until he placed her at the yawning black mouth of the hermit's cave. but what a change was there! the trees and flowering shrubs and ferns were all gone, lava, pumice, and ashes lay thick on everything around, and only a few blackened and twisted stumps of the larger trees remained to tell that an umbrageous forest had once flourished there. the whole scene might be fittingly described in the two words--grey desolation. "that is the entrance to your father's old home," said nigel, as he set his fair burden down and pointed to the entrance. "what a dreadful place!" said winnie, peering into the black depths of the cavern. "it was not dreadful when i first saw it, winnie, with rich verdure everywhere; and inside you will find it surprisingly comfortable. but we must not enter until your father arrives to do the honours of the place himself." they had not to wait long. first moses arrived, and, shrewdly suspecting from the appearance of the young couple that they were engaged in conversation that would not brook interruption, or, perhaps, judging from what might be his own wishes in similar circumstances, he turned his back suddenly on them, and, stooping down, addressed himself to an imaginary creature of the animal kingdom. "what a bootiful bufferfly you is, to be sure! up on sitch a place too, wid nuffin' to eat 'cept krakatoa dust. i wonder what your moder would say if she know'd you was here. you should be ashamed ob yourself!" "hallo! moses, what are you talking to over there?" "nuffin', massa nadgel. i was on'y habin' a brief conv'sation wid a member ob de insect wurld in commemoration ob de purfesser. leastwise, if it warn't a insect it must hab bin suffin' else. won't you go in, miss winnie?" "no, i'd rather wait for father," returned the girl, looking a little flushed, for some strange and totally unfamiliar ideas had recently floated into her brain and caused some incomprehensible flutterings of the heart to which hitherto she had been a stranger. mindful of his father's injunctions, however, nigel had been particularly careful to avoid increasing these flutterings. in a few minutes the hermit came up. "ah! winnie," he said, "there has been dire devastation here. perhaps inside things may look better. come, take my hand and don't be afraid. the floor is level and your eyes will soon get accustomed to the dim light." "i's afeared, massa," remarked moses, as they entered the cavern, "dat your sun-lights won't be wu'th much now." "you are right, lad. go on before us and light the lamps if they are not broken." it was found, as they had expected, that the only light which penetrated the cavern was that which entered by the cave's mouth, which of course was very feeble. presently, to winnie's surprise, moses was seen issuing from the kitchen with a petroleum lamp in one hand, the brilliant light of which not only glittered on his expressive black visage but sent a ruddy glare all over the cavern. van der kemp seemed to watch his daughter intently as she gazed in a bewildered way around. there was a puzzled look as well as mere surprise in her pretty face. "father," she said earnestly, "you have spoken more than once of living as if in a dream. perhaps you will wonder when i tell you that i experience something of that sort now. strange though this place seems, i have an unaccountable feeling that it is not absolutely new to me-- that i have seen it before." "i do not wonder, dear one," he replied, "for the drawings that surround this chamber were the handiwork of your dear mother, and they decorated the walls of your own nursery when you were a little child at your mother's knee. for over ten long years they have surrounded me and kept your faces fresh in my memory--though, truth to tell, it needed no such reminders to do that. come, let us examine them." it was pleasant to see the earnest face of winnie as she half-recognised and strove to recall the memories of early childhood in that singular cavern. it was also a sight worth seeing--the countenance of nigel, as well as that of the hermit, while they watched and admired her eager, puzzled play of feature, and it was the most amazing sight of all to see the all but superhuman joy of moses as he held the lamp and listened to facts regarding the past of his beloved master which were quite new to him--for the hermit spoke as openly about his past domestic affairs as if he and winnie had been quite alone. "he either forgets that we are present, or counts us as part of his family," thought nigel with a feeling of satisfaction. "what a dear comoonicative man!" thought moses, with unconcealed pleasure. "come now, let us ascend to the observatory," said the hermit, when all the things in the library had been examined. "there has been damage done there, i know; besides, there is a locket there which belonged to your mother. i left it by mistake one day when i went up to arrange the mirrors, and in the hurry of leaving forgot to return for it. indeed, one of my main objects in re-visiting my old home was to fetch that locket away. it contains a lock of hair and one of those miniatures which men used to paint before photography drove such work off the field." winnie was nothing loth to follow, for she had reached a romantic period of life, and it seemed to her that to be led through mysterious caves and dark galleries in the very heart of a still active volcano by her own father--the hermit of rakata--was the very embodiment of romance itself. but a disappointment awaited them, for they had not proceeded halfway through the dark passage when it was found that a large mass of rock had fallen from the roof and almost blocked it up. "there is a space big enough for us to creep through at the right-hand corner above, i think," said nigel, taking the lantern from moses and examining the spot. "jump up, moses, and try it," said the hermit. "if your bulky shoulders get through, we can all manage it." the negro was about to obey the order when nigel let the lantern fall and the shock extinguished it. "oh! massa nadgel; das a pritty business!" "never mind," said van der kemp. "i've got matches, i think, in my--no, i haven't. have you, moses?" "no, massa, i forgit to remember him." "no matter, run back--you know the road well enough to follow it in the dark. we will wait here till you return. be smart, now!" moses started off at once and for some moments the sound of clattering along the passage was heard. "i will try to clamber through in the dark. look after winnie, nigel-- and don't leave the spot where you stand, dear one, for there are cracks and holes about that might sprain your little ankles." "very well, father." "all right. i've got through, nigel; i'll feel my way on for a little bit. remain where you are." "winnie," said nigel when they were alone, "doesn't it feel awesome and strange to be standing here in such intense darkness?" "it does--i don't quite like it." "whereabouts are you?" said nigel. he carefully stretched out his hand to feel, as he spoke, and laid a finger on her brow. "oh! take care of my eyes!" exclaimed winnie with a little laugh. "i wish you would turn your eyes towards me for i'm convinced they would give some light--to _me_ at least. here, do let me hold your hand. it will make you feel more confident." to one who is at all familiar with the human frame, the way from the brow to the hand is comparatively simple. nigel soon possessed himself of the coveted article. like other things of great value the possession turned the poor youth's head! he forgot his father's warnings for the moment, forgot the hermit and moses and spinkie, and the thick darkness--forgot almost everything in the light of that touch! "winnie!" he exclaimed in a tone that quite alarmed her; "i--i--" he hesitated. the solemn embargo of his father recurred to him. "what is it! is there danger?" exclaimed the poor girl, clasping his hand tighter and drawing nearer to him. this was too much! nigel felt himself to be contemptible. he was taking unfair advantage of her. "winnie," he began again, in a voice of forced calmness, "there is no danger whatever. i'm an ass--a dolt--that's all! the fact is, i made my father a sort of half promise that i would not ask your opinion on a certain subject until--until i found out exactly what you thought about it. now the thing is ridiculous--impossible--for how can i know your opinion on any subject until i have asked you?" "quite true," returned winnie simply, "so you better ask me." "ha! _ha_!" laughed nigel, in a sort of desperate amusement, "i--i--yes, i _will_ ask you, winnie! but first i must explain--" "hallo! nigel!" came at that moment from the other side of the obstruction, "are you there--all right?" "yes, yes--i'm here--not all right exactly, but i'll be all right _some day_, you may depend upon that!" shouted the youth, in a tone of indignant exasperation. "what said you?" asked van der kemp, putting his head through the hole. "hi! i's a-comin', look out, dar!" hallooed moses in the opposite direction. "just so," said nigel, resuming his quiet tone and demeanour, "we'll be all right when the light comes. here, give us your hand, van der kemp." the hermit accepted the proffered aid and leaped down amongst his friends just as moses arrived with the lantern. "it's of no use going further," he said. "the passage is completely blocked up--so we must go round to where the mountain has been split off and try to clamber up. there will be daylight enough yet if we are quick. come." chapter thirty two. the last. descending to the boat they rowed round to the face of the great cliff which had been so suddenly laid bare when the peak of rakata was cleft from its summit to its foundations in the sea. it was a wonderful sight--a magnificent section, affording a marvellous view of the internal mechanism of a volcano. but there was no time to spend in contemplation of this extraordinary sight, for evening approached and the hermit's purpose had to be accomplished. high up near the top of the mighty cliff could be seen a small hole in the rock, which was all that remained of the observatory. "it will be impossible, i fear, to reach that spot," said nigel; "there does not appear to be foothold for a goat." "i will reach it," said the hermit in a low voice, as he scanned the precipice carefully. "so will i," said the negro. "no, moses, i go alone. you will remain in the boat and watch. if i fall, you can pick me up." "pick you up!" echoed moses. "if you tumbles a t'ousand feet into de water how much t'ink you will be lef' to pick up?" it was useless to attempt to dissuade van der kemp. being well aware of this, they all held their peace while he landed on a spur of the riven cliff. the first part of the ascent was easy enough, the ground having been irregularly broken, so that the climber disappeared behind masses of rock at times, while he kept as much as possible to the western edge of the mountain where the cleavage had occurred; but as he ascended he was forced to come out upon narrow ledges that had been left here and there on the face of the cliff, where he seemed, to those who were watching far below, like a mere black spot on the face of a gigantic wall. still upward he went, slowly but steadily, till he reached a spot nearly level with the observatory. here he had to go out on the sheer precipice, where his footholds were invisible from below. winnie sat in the boat with blanched face and tightly clasped hands, panting with anxiety as she gazed upwards. "it looks much more dangerous from here than it is in reality," said nigel to her in a reassuring tone. "das true, massa nadgel, das bery true," interposed moses, endeavouring to comfort himself as well as the others by the intense earnestness of his manner. "de only danger, miss winnie, lies in your fadder losin' his head at sitch a t'riffic height, an' dar's no fear at all ob dat, for massa neber loses his head--pooh! you might as well talk ob him losin' his heart. look! look! he git close to de hole now--he put his foot--yes--next step--dar! he've done it!" with the perspiration of anxiety streaming down his face the negro relieved his feelings by a wild prolonged cheer. nigel obtained the same relief by means of a deep long-drawn sigh, but winnie did not move; she seemed to realise her father's danger better than her companions, and remembered that the descent would be much more difficult than the ascent. they were not kept long in suspense. in a few minutes the hermit reappeared and began to retrace his steps--slowly but steadily-- and the watchers breathed more freely. moses was right; there was in reality little danger in the climb, for the ledges which appeared to them like mere threads, and the footholds that were almost invisible, were in reality from a foot to three feet wide. the only danger lay in the hermit's head being unable to stand the trial, but, as moses had remarked, there was no fear of that. the watchers were therefore beginning to feel somewhat relieved from the tension of their anxiety, when a huge mass of rock was seen to slip from the face of the cliff and descend with the thunderous roar of an avalanche. the incident gave those in the boat a shock, for the landslip occurred not far from the spot which van der kemp had reached, but as he still stood there in apparent safety there seemed no cause for alarm till it was observed that the climber remained quite still for a long time and seemed to have no intention of moving. "god help him!" cried nigel in sudden alarm, "the ledge has been carried away and he cannot advance! stay by the boat, moses, i will run to help him!" "no, massa nadgel," returned the negro, "i go to die wid 'im. boat kin look arter itself." he sprang on shore as he spoke, and dashed up the mountain-side like a hunted hare. our hero looked at winnie for an instant in hesitation. "go!" said the poor girl. "you know i can manage a boat--quick!" another moment and nigel was following in the track of the negro. they gained the broken ledge together, and then found that the space between the point which they had reached and the spot on which the hermit stood was a smooth face of perpendicular rock--an absolutely impassable gulf! van der kemp was standing with his back flat against the precipice and his feet resting on a little piece of projecting rock not more than three inches wide. this was all that lay between him and the hideous depth below, for nigel found on carefully drawing nearer that the avalanche had been more extensive than was apparent from below, and that the ledge beyond the hermit had been also carried away--thus cutting off his retreat as well as his advance. "i can make no effort to help myself," said van der kemp in a low but calm voice, when our hero's foot rested on the last projecting point that he could gain, and found that with the utmost reach of his arm he could not get within six inches of his friend's outstretched hand. besides, nigel himself stood on so narrow a ledge, and against so steep a cliff, that he could not have acted with his wonted power even if the hand could have been grasped. moses stood immediately behind nigel, where the ledge was broader and where a shallow recess in the rock enabled him to stand with comparative ease. the poor fellow seemed to realise the situation more fully than his companion, for despair was written on every feature of his expressive face. "what is to be done?" said nigel, looking back. "de boat-rope," suggested the negro. "useless," said van der kemp, in a voice as calm and steady as if he were in perfect safety, though the unusual pallor of his grave countenance showed that he was fully alive to the terrible situation. "i am resting on little more than my heels, and the strain is almost too much for me even now. i could not hold on till you went to the boat and returned. no, it seems to be god's will--and," added he humbly, "his will be done." "o god, send us help!" cried nigel in an agony of feeling that he could not master. "if i had better foothold i might spring towards you and catch hold of you," said the hermit, "but i cannot spring off my heels. besides, i doubt if you could bear my weight." "try, try!" cried nigel, eagerly extending his hand. "don't fear for my strength--i've got plenty of it, thank god! and see, i have my right arm wedged into a crevice so firmly that nothing could haul it out." but van der kemp shook his head. "i cannot even make the attempt," he said. "the slightest move would plunge me down. dear boy! i know that you and your father and moses will care for my winnie, and--" "massa!" gasped moses, who while the hermit was speaking had been working his body with mysterious and violent energy; "massa! couldn't you _fall_ dis way, an' nadgel could kitch your hand, an' i's got my leg shoved into a hole as nuffin' 'll haul it out ob. dere's a holler place here. if nadgel swings you into dat, an' i only once grab you by de hair--you're safe!" "it might be done--tried at least," said the hermit, looking anxiously at his young friend. "try it!" cried nigel, "i won't fail you." it is not possible for any except those who have gone through a somewhat similar ordeal to understand fully the test of cool courage which van der kemp had to undergo on that occasion. shutting his eyes for a moment in silent prayer, he deliberately worked with his shoulders upon the cliff against which he leaned until he felt himself to be on the point of falling towards his friend, and the two outstretched hands almost touched. "now, are you ready?" he asked. "ready," replied nigel, while moses wound both his powerful arms round his comrade's waist and held on. another moment and the hands clasped, nigel uttered an irrepressible shout as the hermit swung off, and, coming round with great violence to the spot where the negro had fixed himself, just succeeded in catching the edge of the cliff with his free hand. "let go, nigel," he shouted;--"safe!" the poor youth was only too glad to obey, for the tremendous pull had wrenched his arm out of the crevice in which he had fixed it, and for a moment he swayed helplessly over the awful abyss. "don't let me go, moses!" he yelled, as he made a frantic but futile effort to regain his hold,--for he felt that the negro had loosened one of his arms though the other was still round him like a hoop of iron. "no fear, nadgel," said moses, "i's got you tight--only don' wriggle. now, massa, up you come." moses had grasped his master's hair with a grip that well-nigh scalped him, and he held on until the hermit had got a secure hold of the ledge with both hands. then he let the hair go, for he knew that to an athlete like his master the raising himself by his arms on to the ledge would be the work of a few seconds. van der kemp was thus able to assist in rescuing nigel from his position of danger. but the expressions of heartfelt thankfulness for this deliverance which naturally broke from them were abruptly checked when it was found that moses could by no means extract his leg out of the hole into which he had thrust it, and that he was suffering great pain. after some time, and a good deal of violent wrenching, during which our sable hero mingled a few groans in strange fashion with his congratulations, he was got free, and then it was found that the strain had been too much for even his powerful bones and sinews, for the leg was broken. "my poor fellow!" murmured van der kemp, as he went down on his knees to examine the limb. "don' care a buttin for dat, massa. you're safe, an' nadgel's safe--an' it only cost a broken leg! pooh! das nuffin'!" said moses, unable to repress a few tears in the excess of his joy and pain! with considerable difficulty they carried the poor negro down to the boat, where they found winnie, as might be supposed, in a half-fainting condition from the strain of prolonged anxiety and terror to which she had been subjected; but the necessity of attending to the case of the injured moses was an antidote which speedily restored her. do you think, good reader, that nigel and winnie had much difficulty in coming to an understanding after that, or that the hermit was disposed to throw any obstacles in the way of true love? if you do, let us assure you that you are mistaken. surely this is information enough for any intelligent reader. still, it may be interesting to add, difficulties did not all at once disappear. the perplexities that had already assailed nigel more than once assailed him again--perplexities about a negro man-servant, and a household monkey, and a hermit father-in-law, and a small income--to say nothing of a disconsolate mother-poetess in england and a father roving on the high seas! how to overcome these difficulties gave him much thought and trouble; but they were overcome at last. that which seemed impossible to man proved to be child's-play in the hands of woman. winnie solved the difficulty by suggesting that they should all return to the cocos-keeling islands and dwell together there for evermore! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ let us drop in on them, good reader, at a later period, have a look at them, and bid them all good-bye. on a green knoll by the margin of the lagoon stands a beautiful cottage with a garden around it, and a pleasure-boat resting on the white coral sand in front. from the windows of that cottage there is a most magnificent view of the lagoon with its numerous islets and its picturesque palm-trees. within that cottage dwell nigel and winnie, and a brown-eyed, brown-haired, fair-skinned baby girl who is "the most extraordinary angel that ever was born." it has a nurse of its own, but is chiefly waited on and attended to by an antique poetess, who dwells in another cottage, a stone's-cast off, on the same green knoll. there she inspires an ancient mariner with poetical sentiments--not your up-in-the-clouds, reef-point-pattering nonsense, observe but the real genuine article, superior to "that other fellow's," you know--when not actively engaged with the baby. the first cottage is named rakata, in honour of our hermit, who is one of its inhabitants. the second is named krakatoa by its eccentric owner, captain roy. it must not be imagined, however, that our friends have settled down there to spend their lives in idleness. by no means. this probably would not be permitted by the "king of the cocos islands" even if they wished to do so. but they do not wish that. there is no such condition as idleness in the lives of good men and women. nigel has taken to general superintendence of the flourishing community in the midst of which he has cast his lot. he may be almost regarded as the prime minister of the islands, in addition to which he has started an extensive boat-building business and a considerable trade in cocoa-nuts, etcetera, with the numerous islands of the java sea; also a saw-mill, and a forge, and a sunday-school--in which last the pretty, humble-minded winnie lends most efficient aid. indeed it is said that she is the chief manager as well as the life and soul of that business, though nigel gets all the credit. captain roy sometimes sails his son's vessels, and sometimes looks after the secular education of the sunday-school children--the said education being conducted on the principle of unlimited story-telling with illimitable play of fancy. but his occupations are irregular-- undertaken by fits and starts, and never to be counted on. his evenings he usually devotes to poetry and pipes--for the captain is obstinate, and sticks--like most of us--to his failings as well as his fancies. there is a certain eccentric individual with an enthusiastic temperament and blue binoculars who pays frequent and prolonged visits to the keeling islands. it need scarcely be said that his name is verkimier. there is no accounting for the tastes of human beings. notwithstanding all his escapes and experiences, that indomitable man of science still ranges, like a mad philosopher, far and wide over the archipelago in pursuit of "bootterflies ant ozer specimens of zee insect vorld." it is observed, however, even by the most obtuse among his friends, that whereas in former times the professor's flights were centrifugal they have now become centripetal--the keeling islands being the great centre towards which he flies. verkimier is, and probably will always be, a subject of wonder and of profound speculation to the youthful inhabitants of the islands. they don't understand him and he does not understand them. if they were insects he would take deep and intelligent interest in them. as they are merely human beings, he regards them with that peculiar kind of interest with which men regard the unknown and unknowable. he is by no means indifferent to them. he is too kindly for that. he studies them deeply, though hopelessly, and when he enters the sunday-school with his binoculars--which he often does, to listen--a degree of awe settles down on the little ones which it is impossible to evoke by the most solemn appeals to their spiritual natures. nigel and winnie have a gardener, and that gardener is black--as black as the ace of spades or the king of ashantee. he dwells in a corner of the rakata cottage, but is addicted to spending much of his spare time in the krakatoa one. he is as strong and powerful as ever, but limps slightly on his right leg--his "game" leg, as he styles it. he is, of course, an _immense_ favourite with the young people--not less than with the old. he has been known to say, with a solemnity that might tickle the humorous and horrify the timid, that he wouldn't "hab dat game leg made straight agin! no, not for a hundred t'ousand pounds. 'cause why?--it was an eber-present visible reminder dat once upon a time he had de libes ob massa and nadgel in his arms a-hangin' on to his game leg, an' dat, t'rough gracious goodness, he sabe dem bof!" ha! you may smile at moses if you will, but he can return the smile with kindly interest, for he is actuated by that grand principle which will sooner or later transform even the scoffers of earth, and which is embodied in the words--"love is the fulfilling of the law." even the lower animals testify to this fact when the dog licks the hand that smites it and accords instant forgiveness on the slightest encouragement. does not spinkie prove it also, when, issuing at call, from its own pagoda in the sunniest corner of the rakata garden, it forsakes cocoa-nuts, sugar-cane, fruits, and other delights, to lay its little head in joyful consecration on the black bosom of its benignant friend? and what of moses' opinion of the new home? it may be shortly expressed in his own words-- "it's heaben upon eart', an' de most happiest time as eber occurred to me was dat time when sunda straits went into cumbusti'n an' krakatoa was blown to bits." the end. [illustration: blown to bits or the lonely man of rakata] [illustration: came unexpectedly on a cavern."--page .--(_frontispiece_.)] blown to bits or the lonely man of rakata. a tale of the malay archipelago. by r.m. ballantyne, author of "blue lights, or hot work in the soudan;" "the fugitives;" "red rooney;" "the rover of the andes;" "the wild man of the west;" "the red eric;" "freaks on the fells;" "the young trawler;" "dusty diamonds;" "the battery and the boiler;" "post haste;" "black ivory;" "the iron horse;" "fighting the flames;" "the lifeboat;" etc. etc. with illustrations by the author. _eighth thousand_. london: james nisbet & co., berners street. . [_all rights reserved_.] preface. the extremely violent nature of the volcanic eruption in krakatoa in , the peculiar beauty of those parts of the eastern seas where the event occurred, the wide-spread influences of the accompanying phenomena, and the tremendous devastation which resulted, have all inspired me with a desire to bring the matter, in the garb of a tale, before that portion of the juvenile world which accords me a hearing. for most of the facts connected with the eruption which have been imported into my story, i have to acknowledge myself indebted to the recently published important and exhaustive "report" of the krakatoa committee, appointed by the royal society to make a thorough investigation of the whole matter in all its phases. i have also to acknowledge having obtained much interesting and useful information from the following among other works:--_the malay archipelago_, by a.r. wallace; _a naturalist's wanderings in the eastern archipelago_, by h.o. forbes; and darwin's _journal of researches_ round the world in h.m.s. "beagle." r.m. ballantyne. harrow-on-the hill, . contents. page chap. i.--the play commences, ii.--the haven in the coral ring, iii.--interesting particulars of various kinds, iv.--nigel undergoes some quite new and interesting experiences, v.--captain roy surprises and gratifies his son, who surprises a negro, and suddenly forms an astonishing resolve, vi.--the hermit of rakata introduced, vii.--wonders of the hermit's cave and island, viii.--perboewatan becomes moderately violent, ix.--describes, among other things, a singular meeting under peculiar circumstances, x.--a curious sea-going craft--the unknown voyage begun, xi.--canoeing on the sea--a mysterious night-surprise and sudden flight, xii.--weathering a storm in the open sea, xiii.--friends are met with, also pirates, and a life-or-death paddle ensues, xiv.--a new friend found--new dangers encountered and new hopes delayed, xv.--hunting the great man-monkey, xvi.--begins with a terrible fight and ends with a hasty flight, xvii.--tells of the joys, etc., of the professor in the sumatran forests, also of a catastrophe averted, xviii.--a trying ordeal--danger threatens and flight again resolved on, xix.--a terrible murder and a strange revelation, xx.--nigel makes a confidant of moses--undertakes a lonely watch and sees something wonderful, xxi.--in which the professor distinguishes himself, xxii.--a python discovered and a geyser interviewed, xxiii.--tells of volcanic fires and a strange return "home," xxiv.--an awful night and terrible morning, xxv.--adventures of the "sunshine" and an unexpected reunion, xxvi.--a climax, xxvii.--"blown to bits," xxviii.--the fate of the "sunshine," xxix.--tells chiefly of the wonderful effects of this eruption on the world at large, xxx.--coming events, etc.--wonderful changes among the islands, xxxi.--ends with a struggle between inclination and duty, xxxii.--the last, list of illustrations. vignette title. "he came unexpectedly on a cavern."--page , _frontispiece_. art on the keeling islands, _facing page_ they discover a pirates' bivouac, "do you hear?" said verkimier, sternly, blown to bits blown to bits a tale of the malay archipelago. chapter i. the play commences. blown to bits; bits so inconceivably, so ineffably, so "microscopically" small that--but let us not anticipate. about the darkest hour of a very dark night, in the year , a large brig lay becalmed on the indian ocean, not far from that region of the eastern world which is associated in some minds with spices, volcanoes, coffee, and piratical junks, namely, the malay archipelago. two men slowly paced the brig's quarter-deck for some time in silence, as if the elemental quietude which prevailed above and below had infected them. both men were broad, and apparently strong. one of them was tall; the other short. more than this the feeble light of the binnacle-lamp failed to reveal. "father," said the tall man to the short one, "i do like to hear the gentle pattering of the reef points on the sails; it is so suggestive of peace and rest. doesn't it strike you so?" "can't say it does, lad," replied the short man, in a voice which, naturally mellow and hearty, had been rendered nautically harsh and gruff by years of persistent roaring in the teeth of wind and weather. "more suggestive to me of lost time and lee-way." the son laughed lightly, a pleasant, kindly, soft laugh, in keeping with the scene and hour. "why, father," he resumed after a brief pause, "you are so sternly practical that you drive all the sentiment out of a fellow. i had almost risen to the regions of poetry just now, under the pleasant influences of nature." "glad i got hold of 'ee, lad, before you rose," growled the captain of the brig--for such the short man was. "when a young fellow like you gets up into the clouds o' poetry, he's like a man in a balloon--scarce knows how he got there; doesn't know very well how he's to get down, an' has no more idea where he's goin' to, or what he's drivin' at, than the man in the moon. take my advice, lad, an' get out o' poetical regions as fast as ye can. it don't suit a young fellow who has got to do duty as first mate of his father's brig and push his way in the world as a seaman. when i sent you to school an' made you a far better scholar than myself, i had no notion they was goin' to teach you poetry." the captain delivered the last word with an emphasis which was meant to convey the idea of profound but not ill-natured scorn. "why, father," returned the young man, in a tone which plainly told of a gleeful laugh within him, which was as yet restrained, "it was not school that put poetry into me--if indeed there be any in me at all." "what was it, then?" "it was mother," returned the youth, promptly, "and surely you don't object to poetry in _her_." "object!" cried the captain, as though speaking in the teeth of a nor'wester. "of course not. but then, nigel, poetry in your mother _is_ poetry, an' she can _do_ it, lad--screeds of it--equal to anything that dibdin, or, or,--that other fellow, you know, i forget his name--ever put pen to--why, your mother is herself a poem! neatly made up, rounded off at the corners, french-polished and all shipshape. ha! you needn't go an' shelter yourself under _her_ wings, wi' your inflated, up in the clouds, reef-point-patterin', balloon-like nonsense." "well, well, father, don't get so hot about it; i won't offend again. besides, i'm quite content to take a very low place so long as you give mother her right position. we won't disagree about that, but i suspect that we differ considerably about the other matter you mentioned." "what other matter?" demanded the sire. "my doing duty as first mate," answered the son. "it must be quite evident to you by this time, i should think, that i am not cut out for a sailor. after all your trouble, and my own efforts during this long voyage round the cape, i'm no better than an amateur. i told you that a youth taken fresh from college, without any previous experience of the sea except in boats, could not be licked into shape in so short a time. it is absurd to call me first mate of the _sunshine_. that is in reality mr. moor's position--" "no, it isn't, nigel, my son," interrupted the captain, firmly. "mr. moor is _second_ mate. _i_ say so, an' if i, the skipper and owner o' this brig, don't know it, i'd like to know who does! now, look here, lad. you've always had a bad habit of underratin' yourself an' contradictin' your father. i'm an old salt, you know, an' i tell 'ee that for the time you've bin at sea, an' the opportunities you've had, you're a sort o' walkin' miracle. you're no more an ammytoor than i am, and another voyage or two will make you quite fit to work your way all over the ocean, an' finally to take command o' this here brig, an' let your old father stay at home wi'--wi'--" "with the poetess," suggested nigel. "just so--wi' the equal o' dibdin, not to mention the other fellow. now it seems to me--. how's 'er head?" the captain suddenly changed the subject here. nigel, who chanced to be standing next the binnacle, stooped to examine the compass, and the flood of light from its lamp revealed a smooth but manly and handsome face which seemed quite to harmonise with the cheery voice that belonged to it. "nor'-east-and-by-east," he said. "are 'ee sure, lad?" "your doubting me, father, does not correspond with your lately expressed opinion of my seamanship; does it?" "let me see," returned the captain, taking no notice of the remark, and stooping to look at the compass with a critical eye. the flood of light, in this case, revealed a visage in which good-nature had evidently struggled for years against the virulent opposition of wind and weather, and had come off victorious, though not without evidences of the conflict. at the same time it revealed features similar to those of the son, though somewhat rugged and red, besides being smothered in hair. "vulcan must be concoctin' a new brew," he muttered, as he gazed inquiringly over the bow, "or he's stirring up an old one." "what d' you mean, father?" "i mean that there's somethin' goin' on there-away--in the neighbourhood o' sunda straits," answered the captain, directing attention to that point of the compass towards which the ship's head was turned. "darkness like this don't happen without a cause. i've had some experience o' them seas before now, an' depend upon it that vulcan is stirring up some o' the fires that are always blazin' away, more or less, around the straits settlements." "by which you mean, i suppose, that one of the numerous volcanoes in the malay archipelago has become active," said nigel; "but are we not some five or six hundred miles to the sou'-west of sunda? surely the influence of volcanic action could scarcely reach so far." "so far!" repeated the captain, with a sort of humph which was meant to indicate mild contempt; "that shows how little you know, with all your book-learnin', about volcanoes." "i don't profess to know much, father," retorted nigel in a tone of cheery defiance. "why, boy," continued the other, resuming his perambulation of the deck, "explosions have sometimes been heard for hundreds, ay _hundreds_, of miles. i thought i heard one just now, but no doubt the unusual darkness works up my imagination and makes me suspicious, for it's wonderful what fools the imag--. hallo! d'ee feel _that_?" he went smartly towards the binnacle-light, as he spoke, and, holding an arm close to it, found that his sleeve was sprinkled with a thin coating of fine dust. "didn't i say so?" he exclaimed in some excitement, as he ran to the cabin skylight and glanced earnestly at the barometer. that glance caused him to shout a sudden order to take in all sail. at the same moment a sigh of wind swept over the sleeping sea as if the storm-fiend were expressing regret at having been so promptly discovered and met. seamen are well used to sudden danger--especially in equatorial seas--and to prompt, unquestioning action. not many minutes elapsed before the _sunshine_ was under the smallest amount of sail she could carry. even before this had been well accomplished a stiff breeze was tearing up the surface of the sea into wild foam, which a furious gale soon raised into raging billows. the storm came from the sunda straits about which the captain and his son had just been talking, and was so violent that they could do nothing but scud before it under almost bare poles. all that night it raged. towards morning it increased to such a pitch that one of the back-stays of the foremast gave way. the result was that the additional strain thus thrown on the other stays was too much for them. they also parted, and the fore-top-mast, snapping short off with a report like a cannon-shot, went over the side, carrying the main-topgallant-mast and all its gear along with it. chapter ii. the haven in the coral ring. it seemed as if the storm-fiend were satisfied with the mischief he had accomplished, for immediately after the disaster just described, the gale began to moderate, and when the sun rose it had been reduced to a stiff but steady breeze. from the moment of the accident onward, the whole crew had been exerting themselves to the utmost with axe and knife to cut and clear away the wreck of the masts and repair damages. not the least energetic among them was our amateur first mate, nigel roy. when all had been made comparatively snug, he went aft to where his father stood beside the steersman, with his legs nautically wide apart, his sou'-wester pulled well down over his frowning brows, and his hands in their native pockets. "this is a bad ending to a prosperous voyage," said the youth, sadly; "but you don't seem to take it much to heart, father!" "how much or little i take it to heart you know nothin' whatever about, my boy, seein' that i don't wear my heart on my coat-sleeve, nor yet on the point of my nose, for the inspection of all and sundry. besides, you can't tell whether it's a bad or a good endin', for it has not ended yet one way or another. moreover, what appears bad is often found to be good, an' what seems good is pretty often uncommon bad." "you are a walking dictionary of truisms, father! i suppose you mean to take a philosophical view of the misfortune and make the best of it," said nigel, with what we may style one of his twinkling smiles, for on nearly all occasions that young man's dark, brown eyes twinkled, in spite of him, as vigorously as any "little star" that was ever told in prose or song to do so--and much more expressively, too, because of the eyebrows of which little stars appear to be destitute. "no, lad," retorted the captain; "i take a common-sense view--not a philosophical one; an' when you've bin as long at sea as i have, you'll call nothin' a misfortune until it's proved to be such. the only misfortune i have at present is a son who cannot see things in the same light as his father sees 'em." "well, then, according to your own principle that is the reverse of a misfortune, for if i saw everything in the same light that you do, you'd have no pleasure in talking to me, you'd have no occasion to reason me out of error, or convince me of truth. take the subject of poetry, now--" "luff," said captain roy, sternly, to the man at the wheel. when the man at the wheel had gone through the nautical evolution involved in "luff," the captain turned to his son and said abruptly-- "we'll run for the cocos-keelin' islands, nigel, an' refit." "are the keeling islands far off?" "lift up your head and look straight along the bridge of your nose, lad, and you'll see them. they're an interesting group, are the keelin' islands. volcanic, they are, with a coral top-dressin', so to speak. sit down here an' i'll tell 'ee about 'em." nigel shut up the telescope through which he had been examining the thin, blue line on the horizon that indicated the islands in question, and sat down on the cabin skylight beside his father. "they've got a romantic history too, though a short one, an' are set like a gem on the bosom of the deep blue sea--" "come, father, you're drifting out of your true course--that's poetical!" "i know it, lad, but i'm only quotin' your mother. well, you must know that the keelin' islands--we call them keelin' for short--were uninhabited between fifty and sixty years ago, when a scotsman named ross, thinking them well situated as a port of call for the repair and provisioning of vessels on their way to australia and china, set his heart on them and quietly took possession in the name of england. then he went home to fetch his wife and family of six children, intendin' to settle on the islands for good. returning in with the family and fourteen adventurers, twelve of whom were english, one a portugee and one a javanee, he found to his disgust that an englishman named hare had stepped in before him and taken possession. this hare was a very bad fellow; a rich man who wanted to live like a rajah, with lots o' native wives and retainers, an' be a sort of independent prince. of course he was on bad terms at once with ross, who, finding that things were going badly, felt that it would be unfair to hold his people to the agreement which was made when he thought the whole group was his own, so he offered to release them. they all, except two men and one woman, accepted the release and went off in a gun-boat that chanced to touch there at the time. for a good while hare and his rival lived there--the one tryin' to get the dutch, the other to induce the english government to claim possession. neither dutch nor english would do so at first, but the english did it at long-last--in --and annexed the islands to the government of ceylon. "long before that date, however--before --hare left and went to singapore, where he died, leaving ross in possession--the 'king of the cocos islands' as he came to be called. in a few years--chiefly through the energy of ross's eldest son, to whom he soon gave up the management of affairs--the group became a prosperous settlement. its ships traded in cocoa-nuts (the chief produce of the islands) throughout all the straits settlements, and boat-buildin' became one of their most important industries. but there was one thing that prevented it from bein' a very happy though prosperous place, an' that was the coolies who had been hired in java, for the only men that could be got there at first were criminals who had served their time in the chain-gangs of batavia. as these men were fit for anything--from pitch-and-toss to murder--and soon outnumbered the colonists, the place was kept in constant alarm and watchfulness. for, as i dare say you know, the malays are sometimes liable to have the spirit of _amok_ on them, which leads them to care for and fear nothin', and to go in for a fight-to-death, from which we get our sayin'--_run amuck_. an' when a strong fellow is goin' about loose in this state o' mind, it's about as bad as havin' a tiger prowlin' in one's garden." "well, sometimes two or three o' these coolies would mutiny and hide in the woods o' one o' the smaller uninhabited islands. an' the colonists would have no rest till they hunted them down. so, to keep matters right, they had to be uncommon strict. it was made law that no one should spend the night on any but what was called the home island without permission. every man was bound to report himself at the guard-house at a fixed hour; every fire to be out at sunset, and every boat was numbered and had to be in its place before that time. so they went on till the year , when a disaster befell them that made a considerable change--at first for the worse, but for the better in the long-run. provin' the truth, my lad, of what i was--well, no--i was goin' to draw a moral here, but i won't! "it was a cyclone that did the business. cyclones have got a free-an'-easy way of makin' a clean sweep of the work of years in a few hours. this cyclone completely wrecked the homes of the keelin' islanders, and ross--that's the second ross, the son of the first one--sent home for _his_ son, who was then a student of engineering in glasgow, to come out and help him to put things to rights. ross the third obeyed the call, like a good son,--observe that, nigel." "all right, father, fire away!" "like a good son," repeated the captain, "an' he turned out to be a first-rate man, which was lucky, for his poor father died soon after, leavin' him to do the work alone. an' well able was the young engineer to do it. he got rid o' the chain-gang men altogether, and hired none but men o' the best character in their place. he cleared off the forests and planted the ground with cocoa-nut palms. got out steam mills, circular saws, lathes, etc., and established a system of general education with a younger brother as head-master--an' tail-master too, for i believe there was only one. he also taught the men to work in brass, iron, and wood, and his wife--a cocos girl that he married after comin' out--taught all the women and girls to sew, cook, and manage the house. in short, everything went on in full swing of prosperity, till the year , when the island-born inhabitants were about , as contented and happy as could be. "in january of that year another cyclone paid them a visit. the barometer gave them warning, and, remembering the visit of fourteen years before, they made ready to receive the new visitor. all the boats were hauled up to places of safety, and every other preparation was made. down it came, on the afternoon o' the th--worse than they had expected. many of the storehouses and mills had been lately renewed or built. they were all gutted and demolished. everything movable was swept away like bits of paper. lanes, hundreds of yards in length, were cleared among the palm trees by the whirling wind, which seemed to perform a demon-dance of revelry among them. in some cases it snapped trees off close to the ground. in others it seemed to swoop down from above, lick up a patch of trees bodily and carry them clean away, leaving the surrounding trees untouched. sometimes it would select a tree of thirty years growth, seize it, spin it round, and leave it a permanent spiral screw. i was in these regions about the time, and had the account from a native who had gone through it all and couldn't speak of it except with glaring eyeballs and gasping breath. "about midnight of the th the gale was at its worst. darkness that could be felt between the flashes of lightning. thunder that was nearly drowned by the roaring of the wind an' the crashing of everything all round. to save their lives the people had to fling themselves into ditches and hollows of the ground. mr. ross and some of his people were lying in the shelter of a wall near his house. there had been a schooner lying not far off. when mr. ross raised his head cautiously above the wall to have a look to wind'ard he saw the schooner comin' straight for him on the top of a big wave. 'hold on!' he shouted, fell flat down, and laid hold o' the nearest bush. next moment the wave burst right over the wall, roared on up to the garden, yards above highwater mark, and swept his house clean away! by good fortune the wall stood the shock, and the schooner stuck fast just before reachin' it, but so near that the end of the jib-boom passed right over the place where the household lay holdin' on for dear life and half drowned. it was a tremendous night," concluded the captain, "an' nearly everything on the islands was wrecked, but they've survived it, as you'll see. though it's seven years since that cyclone swep' over them, they're all right and goin' ahead again, full swing, as if nothin' had happened." "and is ross iii. still king?" asked nigel with much interest. "ay--at least he was king a few years ago when i passed this way and had occasion to land to replace a tops'l yard that had been carried away." "then you won't arrive as a stranger?" "i should think not," returned the captain, getting up and gazing steadily at the _atoll_ or group of islets enclosed within a coral ring which they were gradually approaching. night had descended, however, and the gale had decreased almost to a calm, ere they steered through the narrow channel--or what we may call a broken part of the ring--which led to the calm lagoon inside. nigel roy leaned over the bow, watching with profound attention the numerous phosphorescent fish and eel-like creatures which darted hither and thither like streaks of silver from beneath their advancing keel. he had enough of the naturalist in him to arouse in his mind keen interest in the habits and action of the animal life around him, and these denizens of the coral-groves were as new to him as their appearance was unexpected. "you'll find 'em very kind and hospitable, lad," said the captain to his son. "what, the fish?" "no, the inhabitants. port--port--steady!" "steady it is!" responded the man at the wheel. "let go!" shouted the captain. a heavy plunge, followed by the rattling of chains and swinging round of the brig, told that they had come to an anchor in the lagoon of the cocos-keeling islands. chapter iii. interesting particulars of various kinds. by the first blush of dawn nigel roy hastened on deck, eager to see the place in regard to which his father's narrative had awakened in him considerable interest. it not only surpassed but differed from all his preconceived ideas. the brig floated on the bosom of a perfectly calm lake of several miles in width, the bottom of which, with its bright sand and brilliant coral-beds, could be distinctly seen through the pellucid water. this lake was encompassed by a reef of coral which swelled here and there into tree-clad islets, and against which the breakers of the indian ocean were dashed into snowy foam in their vain but ceaseless efforts to invade the calm serenity of the lagoon. smaller islands, rich with vegetation, were scattered here and there within the charmed circle, through which several channels of various depths and sizes connected the lagoon with the ocean. "we shall soon have the king himself off to welcome us," said captain roy as he came on deck and gave a sailor-like glance all round the horizon and then up at the sky from the mere force of habit. "visitors are not numerous here. a few scientific men have landed now and again; darwin the great naturalist among others in , and forbes in . no doubt they'll be very glad to welcome nigel roy in this year of grace ." "but i'm not a naturalist, father, more's the pity." "no matter, lad; you're an ammytoor first mate, an' pr'aps a poet may count for somethin' here. they lead poetical lives and are fond o' poetry." "perhaps that accounts for the fondness you say they have for you, father." "just so, lad. see!--there's a boat puttin' off already: the king, no doubt." he was right. mr. ross, the appointed governor, and "king of the cocos islands," was soon on deck, heartily shaking hands with and welcoming captain roy as an old friend. he carried him and his son off at once to breakfast in his island-home; introduced nigel to his family, and then showed them round the settlement, assuring them at the same time that all its resources were at their disposal for the repair of the _sunshine_. "thank 'ee kindly," said the captain in reply, "but i'll only ask for a stick to rig up a foretop-mast to carry us to batavia, where we'll give the old craft a regular overhaul--for it's just possible she may have received some damage below the water-line, wi' bumpin' on the mast and yards." the house of the "king" was a commodious, comfortable building in the midst of a garden, in which there were roses in great profusion, as well as fruit-trees and flowering shrubs. each keeling family possessed a neat well-furnished plank cottage enclosed in a little garden, besides a boat-house at the water-edge on the inner or lagoon side of the reef, and numerous boats were lying about on the white sand. the islanders, being almost born sailors, were naturally very skilful in everything connected with the sea. there was about them a good deal of that kindly innocence which one somehow expects to find associated with a mild paternal government and a limited intercourse with the surrounding world, and nigel was powerfully attracted by them from the first. after an extensive ramble, during which mr. ross plied the captain with eager questions as to the latest news from the busy centres of civilisation--especially with reference to new inventions connected with engineering--the island king left them to their own resources till dinner-time, saying that he had duties to attend to connected with the kingdom! "now, boy," said the captain when their host had gone, "what'll 'ee do? take a boat and have a pull over the lagoon, or go with me to visit a family i'm particularly fond of, an' who are uncommon fond o' _me!"_ "visit the family, of course," said nigel. "i can have a pull any day." "come along then." he led the way to one of the neatest of the plank cottages, which stood on the highest ridge of the island, so that from the front windows it commanded a view of the great blue ocean with its breakers that fringed the reef as with a ring of snow, while, on the opposite side, lay the peaceful waters and islets of the lagoon. a shout of joyful surprise was uttered by several boys and girls at sight of the captain, for during his former visit he had won their hearts by telling them wild stories of the sea, one half of each story being founded on fact and personal experience, the other half on a vivid imagination! "we are rejoiced to see you," said the mother of the juveniles, a stout woman of mixed nationality--that of dutch apparently predominating. she spoke english, however, remarkably well, as did many of the cocos people, though malay is the language of most of them. the boys and girls soon hauled the captain down on a seat and began to urge him to tell them stories, using a style of english that was by no means equal to that of the mother. "stop, stop, let me see sister kathy first. i can't begin without her. where is she?" "somewhere, i s'pose," said the eldest boy. "no doubt of that. go--fetch her," returned the captain. at that moment a back-door opened, and a girl of about seventeen years of age entered. she was pleasant-looking rather than pretty--tall, graceful, and with magnificent black eyes. "here she comes," cried the captain, rising and kissing her. "why, kathy, how you've grown since i saw you last! quite a woman, i declare!" kathy was not too much of a woman, however, to join her brothers and sisters in forcing the captain into a seat and demanding a story on the spot. "stop, stop!" cried the captain, grasping round their waists a small boy and girl who had already clambered on his knees. "let me inquire about my old friends first--and let me introduce my son to you--you've taken no notice of _him_ yet! that's not hospitable." all eyes were turned at once on nigel, some boldly, others with a shy inquiring look, as though to say, can _you_ tell stories? "come, now," said nigel, advancing, "since you are all so fond of my father, i must shake hands with you all round." the hearty way in which this was done at once put the children at their ease. they admitted him, as it were, into their circle, and then turning again to the captain continued their clamour for a story. "no, no--about old friends first. how--how's old mother morris?" "quite well," they shouted. "fatterer than ever," added an urchin, who in england would have been styled cheeky. "yes," lisped a very little girl; "one of 'e doors in 'e house too small for she." "why, gerchin, you've learned to speak english like the rest," said the captain. "yes, father make every one learn." "well, now," continued the captain, "what about black sam?" "gone to batavia," chorused the children. "and--and--what's-'is-name?--the man wi' the nose--" a burst of laughter and, "we's _all_ got noses here!" was the reply. "yes, but you know who i mean--the short man wi' the--" "oh! with the turned _up_ nose. _i_ know," cried the cheeky boy; "you means johnson? he goed away nobody know whar'." "and little nelly drew, what of her?" a sudden silence fell on the group, and solemn eyes were turned on sister kathy, who was evidently expected to answer. "not dead?" said the captain earnestly. "no, but very _very_ ill," replied the girl. "dear nelly have never git over the loss of her brother, who--" at this point they were interrupted by another group of the captain's little admirers, who, having heard of his arrival, ran forward to give him a noisy welcome. before stories could be commenced, however, the visitors were summoned to mr. ross's house to dinner, and then the captain had got into such an eager talk with the king that evening was upon them before they knew where they were, as nigel expressed it, and the stories had to be postponed until the following day. of course beds were offered, and accepted by captain roy and nigel. just before retiring to them, father and son went out to have a stroll on the margin of the lagoon. "ain't it a nice place, nigel?" asked the former, whose kindly spirit had been stirred up to quite a jovial pitch by the gushing welcome he had received alike from old and young. "it's charming, father. quite different from what you had led me to expect." "my boy," returned the captain, with that solemn deliberation which he was wont to assume when about to deliver a palpable truism. "w'en you've come to live as long as me you'll find that everything turns out different from what people have bin led to expect. leastways that's _my_ experience." "well, in the meantime, till i have come to your time of life, i'll take your word for that, and i do hope you intend to stay a long time here." "no, my son, i don't. why do ye ask?" "because i like the place and the people so much that i would like to study it and them, and to sketch the scenery." "business before pleasure, my lad," said the captain with a grave shake of the head. "you know we've bin blown out of our course, and have no business here at all. i'll only wait till the carpenter completes his repairs, and then be off for batavia. duty first; everything else afterwards." "but you being owner as well as commander, there is no one to insist on duty being done," objected nigel. "pardon me," returned the captain, "there is a certain owner named captain david roy, a very stern disciplinarian, who insists on the commander o' this here brig performin' his duty to the letter. you may depend upon it that if a man ain't true to himself he's not likely to be true to any one else. but it's likely that we may be here for a couple of days, so i release _you_ from duty that you may make the most o' your time and enjoy yourself. by the way, it will save you wastin' time if you ask that little girl, kathy holbein, to show you the best places to sketch, for she's a born genius with her pencil and brush." "no, thank you, father," returned nigel. "i want no little girl to bother me while i'm sketching--even though she be a born genius--for i think i possess genius enough my self to select the best points for sketching, and to get along fairly well without help. at least i'll try what i can do." "please yourself, lad. nevertheless, i think you wouldn't find poor kathy a bother; she's too modest for that--moreover, she could manage a boat and pull a good oar when i was here last, and no doubt she has improved since." "nevertheless, i'd rather be alone," persisted nigel. "but why do you call her _poor_ kathy? she seems to be quite as strong and as jolly as the rest of her brothers and sisters." "ah, poor thing, these are not her brothers and sisters," returned the captain in a gentler tone. "kathy is only an adopted child, and an orphan. her name, kathleen, is not a dutch one. she came to these islands in a somewhat curious way. sit down here and i'll tell 'ee the little i know about her." father and son sat down on a mass of coral rock that had been washed up on the beach during some heavy gale, and for a few minutes gazed in silence on the beautiful lagoon, in which not only the islets, but the brilliant moon and even the starry hosts were mirrored faithfully. "about thirteen years ago," said the captain, "two pirate junks in the sunda straits attacked a british barque, and, after a fight, captured her. some o' the crew were killed in action, some were taken on board the junks to be held to ransom i s'pose, and some, jumping into the sea to escape if possible by swimming, were probably drowned, for they were a considerable distance from land. it was one o' these fellows, however, who took to the water that managed to land on the java shore, more dead than alive. he gave information about the affair, and was the cause of a gun-boat, that was in these waters at the time, bein' sent off in chase o' the pirate junks. "this man who swam ashore was a lascar. he said that the chief o' the pirates, who seemed to own both junks, was a big ferocious malay with only one eye--he might have added with no heart at all, if what he said o' the scoundrel was true, for he behaved with horrible cruelty to the crew o' the barque. after takin' all he wanted out of his prize he scuttled her, and then divided the people that were saved alive between the two junks. there were several passengers in the vessel; among them a young man--a widower--with a little daughter, four year old or so. he was bound for calcutta. being a very powerful man he fought like a lion to beat the pirates off, but he was surrounded and at last knocked down by a blow from behind. then his arms were made fast and he was sent wi' the rest into the biggest junk. "this poor fellow recovered his senses about the time the pirates were dividin' the prisoners among them. he seemed dazed at first, so said the lascar, but as he must have bin in a considerable funk himself i suspect his observations couldn't have bin very correct. anyhow, he said he was sittin' near the side o' the junk beside this poor man, whose name he never knew, but who seemed to be an englishman from his language, when a wild scream was heard in the other junk. it was the little girl who had caught sight of her father and began to understand that she was going to be separated from him. at the sound o' her voice he started up, and, looking round like a wild bull, caught sight o' the little one on the deck o' the other junk, just as they were hoistin' sail to take advantage of a breeze that had sprung up. "whether it was that they had bound the man with a piece o' bad rope, or that the strength o' samson had been given to him, the lascar could not tell, but he saw the englishman snap the rope as if it had bin a bit o' pack-thread, and jump overboard. he swam for the junk where his little girl was. if he had possessed the strength of a dozen samsons it would have availed him nothin', for the big sail had caught the breeze and got way on her. at the same time the other junk lay over to the same breeze and the two separated. at first the one-eyed pirate jumped up with an oath and fired a pistol shot at the englishman, but missed him. then he seemed to change his mind and shouted in bad english, with a diabolical laugh--'swim away; swim hard, p'raps you kitch 'im up!' of course the two junks were soon out of sight o' the poor swimmer--and that was the end of _him,_ for, of course, he must have been drowned." "but what of the poor little girl?" asked nigel, whose feelings were easily touched by the sorrows of children, and who began to have a suspicion of what was coming. "i'm just comin' to that. well, the gun-boat that went to look for the pirates sighted one o' the junks out in the indian ocean after a long search and captured her, but not a single one o' the barque's crew was to be found in her, and it was supposed they had been all murdered and thrown overboard wi' shots tied to their feet to sink them. enough o' the cargo o' the british barque was found, however, to convict her, and on a more careful search bein' made, the little girl was discovered, hid away in the hold. bein' only about four year old, the poor little thing was too frightened to understand the questions put to her. all she could say was that she wanted 'to go to father,' and that her name was kathy, probably short for kathleen, but she could not tell." "then that is the girl who is now here?" exclaimed nigel. "the same, lad. the gun-boat ran in here, like as we did, to have some slight repairs done, and kathy was landed. she seemed to take at once to motherly mrs. holbein, who offered to adopt her, and as the captain of the gun-boat had no more notion than the man-in-the-moon who the child belonged to, or what to do with her, he gladly handed her over, so here she has been livin' ever since. of course attempts have been made to discover her friends, but without success, and now all hope has been given up. the poor girl herself never speaks on the subject, but old holbein and his wife tell me she is sure that kathy has never forgotten her father. it may be so; anyhow, she has forgotten his name--if she ever knew it." next day nigel made no objections to being guided to the most picturesque spots among the coral isles by the interesting orphan girl. if she had been older he might even have fallen in love with her, an event which would have necessitated an awkward modification of the ground-work of our tale. as it was, he pitied the poor child sincerely, and not only--recognising her genius--asked her advice a good deal on the subject of art, but--recognising also her extreme youth and ignorance--volunteered a good deal of advice in exchange, quite in a paternal way! chapter iv. nigel undergoes some quite new and interesting experiences. the arrangements made on the following day turned out to be quite in accordance with the wishes and tastes of the various parties concerned. the ship's carpenter having been duly set to work on the repairs, and being inspected in that serious piece of prosaic business by the second mate, our captain was set free to charm the very souls of the juveniles by wandering for miles along the coral strand inventing, narrating, exaggerating to his heart's content. pausing now and then to ask questions irrelevant to the story in hand, like a wily actor, for the purpose of intensifying the desire for more, he would mount a block of coral, and thence, sometimes as from a throne, or platform, or pulpit, impress some profound piece of wisdom, or some thrilling point, or some exceedingly obvious moral on his followers open-mouthed and open-eyed. these were by no means idlers, steeped in the too common business of having nothing to do. no, they had regularly sought and obtained a holiday from work or school; for all the activities of social and civilised life were going on full swing--fuller, indeed, than the average swing--in that remote, scarcely known, and beautiful little gem of the indian ocean. meanwhile nigel and kathy, with sketch-books under their arms, went down to where the clear waters of the lagoon rippled on the white sand, and, launching a cockleshell of a boat, rowed out toward the islets. "now, kathy, you must let me pull," said nigel, pushing out the sculls, "for although the captain tells me you are very good at rowing, it would never do for a man, you know, to sit lazily down and let himself be rowed by a girl." "very well," said kathy, with a quiet and most contented smile, for she had not yet reached the self-conscious age--at least, as ages go in the cocos-keeling islands! besides, kathy was gifted with that charming disposition which never _objects_ to anything--anything, of course, that does not involve principle! but it was soon found that, as the cockleshell had no rudder, and the intricacies they had to wind among were numerous, frequent directions and corrections were called for from the girl. "d' you know," said nigel at last, "as i don't know where you want me to go to, it may be as well, after all, that you should row!" "very well," said kathy, with another of her innocent smiles. "i thinked it will be better so at first." nigel could not help laughing at the way she said this as he handed her the sculls. she soon proved herself to be a splendid boatwoman, and although her delicate and shapely arms were as mere pipe-stems to the great brawny limbs of her companion, yet she had a deft, mysterious way of handling the sculls that sent the cockleshell faster over the lagoon than before. "now, we go ashore here," said kathy, turning the boat,--with a prompt back-water of the left scull, and a vigorous pull of the right one,--into a little cove just big enough to hold it. the keel went with such a plump on the sand, that nigel, who sat on a forward thwart with his back landward, reversed the natural order of things by putting his back on the bottom of the boat and his heels in the air. to this day it is an unsettled question whether this was done on purpose by kathy. certain it is that _she_ did not tumble, but burst into a hearty fit of laughter, while her large lustrous eyes half shut themselves up and twinkled. "why, you don't even apologise, you dreadful creature!" exclaimed nigel, joining in the laugh, as he picked himself up. "why should i 'pologise?" asked the girl, in the somewhat broken english acquired from her adopted family. "why you not look out?" "right, kathy, right; i'll keep a sharp lookout next time. meanwhile i will return good for evil by offering my hand to help you a--hallo!" while he spoke the girl had sprung past him like a grasshopper, and alighted on the sand like a butterfly. a few minutes later and this little jesting fit had vanished, and they were both engaged with pencil and book, eagerly--for both were enthusiastic--sketching one of the most enchanting scenes that can well be imagined. we will not attempt the impossible. description could not convey it. we can only refer the reader's imagination to the one old, hackneyed but expressive, word--fairyland! one peculiarly interesting point in the scene was, that on the opposite side of the lagoon the captain could be seen holding forth to his juvenile audience. [illustration: art on the keeling islands.--page .] when a pretty long time had elapsed in absolute silence, each sketcher being totally oblivious of the other, nigel looked up with a long sigh, and said:-- "well, you _have_ chosen a most exquisite scene for me. the more i work at it, the more i find to admire. may i look now at what you have done?" "oh yes, but i have done not much. i am slow," said the girl, as nigel rose and looked over her shoulder. "why!--what--how beautiful!--but--but--what do you mean?" exclaimed the youth. "i don't understand you," said the girl, looking up in surprise. "why, kathy, i had supposed you were drawing that magnificent landscape all this time, and--and you've only been drawing a group of shells. splendidly done, i admit, but why----" he stopped at that moment, for her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "forgive me, dear child," said nigel, hurriedly; "i did not intend to hurt your feelings. i was only surprised at your preference." "you have not hurt me," returned kathy in a low voice, as she resumed her work, "but what you say calls back to me--my father was very fond of shells." she stopped, and nigel, blaming himself for having inadvertently touched some tender chord, hastened, somewhat clumsily, to change the subject. "you draw landscape also, i doubt not?" "oh yes--plenty. if you come home to me to-night, i will show you some." "i shall be only too happy," returned the youth, sitting down again to his sketch, "and perhaps i may be able to give you a hint or two--especially in reference to perspective--for i've had regular training, you know, kathy, and i dare say you have not had that here." "not what you will think much, perhaps, yet i have study a little in school, and _very_ much from nature." "well, you have been under the best of masters," returned nigel, "if you have studied much from nature. and who has been your other teacher?" "a brother of mr. ross. i think he must understand very much. he was an engineer, and has explained to me the rules of perspective, and many other things which were at first very hard to understand. but i do see them now." "perhaps then, kathleen," said nigel, in that drawling, absent tone in which artists are apt to indulge when busy at work--"perhaps you may be already too far advanced to require instruction from me." "perhaps--but i think no, for you seems to understand a great deal. but why you call me kathleen just now?" "because i suppose that is your real name--kathy being the short for it. is it not so?" "well, p'raps it is. i have hear mother holbein say so once. i like kathleen best." "then, may i call you kathleen?" "if you like." at this point both artists had become so engrossed in their occupation that they ceased to converse, and for a considerable time profound silence reigned--at least on their part, though not as regarded others, for every now and then the faint sound of laughter came floating over the tranquil lagoon from that part of the coral strand where captain roy was still tickling the fancies and expanding the imaginations and harrowing or soothing the feelings of the cocos-keeling juveniles. inferior animal life was also in ceaseless activity around the sketchers, filling the air with those indescribably quiet noises which are so suggestive of that general happiness which was originally in terrestial paradise and is ultimately to be the lot of redeemed creation. snipe and curlews were wading with jaunty step and absorbed inquiring gaze in the shallow pools. hermit crabs of several species and sizes were scuttling about searching for convenient shells in which to deposit their naturally homeless and tender tails. overhead there was a sort of sea-rookery, the trees being tenanted by numerous gannets, frigate birds, and terns--the first gazing with a stupid yet angry air; the last--one beautiful little snow-white species in particular--hovering only a few feet above the sketchers' heads, while their large black eyes scanned the drawings with the owlish look of wisdom peculiar to connoisseurs. noddies also were there, and, on the ground, lizards and spiders and innumerable ants engaged in all the varied activities connected with their several domestic arrangements. altogether it was a scene of bright peaceful felicity, which seemed to permeate nigel's frame right inward to the spinal marrow, and would have kept him entranced there at his work for several hours longer if the cravings of a healthy appetite had not warned him to desist. "now, kathleen," he said, rising and stretching himself as one is apt to do after sitting long in a constrained position, "it seems to me about time to--by the way, we've forgotten to bring something to eat!" his expression as he said this made his companion look up and laugh. "plenty cocoa-nuts," she said, pointing with her pencil to the overarching trees. "true, but i doubt my ability to climb these long straight stems; besides, i have got only a small clasp-knife, which would be but a poor weapon with which to attack the thick outer husk of the nuts." "but i have got a few without the husks in the boat," said the girl, rising and running to the place where the cockleshell had been left. she returned immediately with several nuts divested of their thick outer covering, and in the condition with which we are familiar in england. some of them were already broken, so that they had nothing to do but sit down to lunch. "here is one," said kathy, handing a nut to nigel, "that has got no meat yet in it--only milk. bore a hole in it and drink, but see you bore in the right hole." "the right hole?" echoed the youth, "are some of them wrong ones?" "oh yes, only one of the three will do. one of our crawbs knows that and has claws that can bore through the husk and shell. we calls him cocoa-nut crawb." "indeed! that is strange; i never heard before of a crab that fed on cocoa-nuts." "this one do. he is very big, and also climbs trees. it goes about most at night. perhaps you see one before you go away." the crab to which kathy referred is indeed a somewhat eccentric crustacean, besides being unusually large. it makes deep tunnels in the ground larger than rabbit burrows, which it lines with cocoa-nut fibre. one of its claws is developed into an organ of extraordinary power with which it can break a cocoa-nut shell, and even, it is said, a man's limb! it never takes all the husk off a cocoa-nut--that would be an unnecessary trouble, but only enough off the end where the three eyelets are, to enable it to get at the inside. having pierced the proper eye with one of its legs it rotates the nut round it until the hole is large enough to admit the point of its great claw, with which it continues the work. this remarkable creature also climbs the palm-trees, but not to gather nuts; that is certain, for its habits have been closely watched and it has been ascertained that it feeds only on fallen nuts. possibly it climbs for exercise, or to obtain a more extended view of its charming habitat, or simply "for fun." why not? all this and a great deal more was told to nigel by kathleen, who was a bit of a naturalist in her tendencies--as they sat there under the graceful fronds of the palm-trees admiring the exquisite view, eating and drinking cocoa-nuts. "i suppose you have plenty of other kinds of food besides this?" said nigel. "oh yes, plenty. most of the fish in our lagoon be good for eating, and so also the crawbs, and we have turtle too." "indeed! how _do_ you catch the turtle? another nut, please.--thank you." "the way we gets turtle is by the men diving for them and catching them in the water. we has pigs too--plenty, and the wild birds are some very nice."[ ] when the artists had finished they proceeded to the shore, and to their surprise and amusement found the cockleshell in possession of a piratical urchin of about four years of age in a charmingly light state of clothing. he was well known to kathleen, and it turned out that, having seen the cockle start at too great a distance to be hailed, and having set his heart on joining in the excursion, he had watched their movements, observed their landing on the islet--which was not far from the main circlet of land--and, running round till he came opposite to it, swam off and got into the boat. being somewhat tired he had lain down to rest and fallen sound asleep. on the way home this urchin's sole delight was to lean over the bow and watch the fish and coral groves over which they skimmed. in this he was imitated by nigel who, ungallantly permitting his companion to row, also leaned over the side and gazed down into the clear crystal depths with unwearying delight. for the wonderful colours displayed in those depths must be seen to be believed. not only is the eye pleased with the ever-varying formations of the coral bowers, but almost dazzled with the glittering fish--blue, emerald, green, scarlet, orange, banded, spotted, and striped--that dart hither and thither among the rich-toned sea-weed and the variegated anemones which spread their tentacles upwards as if inviting the gazer to come down! among these, crabs could be seen crawling with undecided motion, as if unable to make up their minds, while in out of the way crevices clams of a gigantic size were gaping in deadly quietude ready to close with a snap on any unfortunate creature that should give them the slightest touch. nigel was sharply awakened from his dream by a sudden splash. looking up he observed that the small boy was gone. with a bound he stood erect, one foot on the gunwale and hands clasped ready to dive, when a glance revealed the fact that kathy was smiling broadly! "don't jump!" she said. "he is only after a fish." even while she spoke nigel saw the brown little fellow shooting about like a galvanised tadpole, with a small harpoon in his hand! next moment he appeared on the surface shouting and spluttering, with a splendid fish on the end of his harpoon! both were hauled into the boat, and very soon after they drew near to land. in the shallow water nigel observed some remarkable creatures which resembled hedgehogs, having jaws armed with formidable teeth to enable them to feed, kathy said, on coral insects. file-fishes also drew his attention particularly. these were magnificently striped and coloured, and apparently very fearless. "what convenient tails they have to lay hold of," remarked our hero, as they slowly glided past one; "i believe i could catch it with my hand!" stooping swiftly as he spoke, he dipped his arm into the water, and actually did grasp the fish by its tail, but dropped it again instantly--to the shrieking delight of the urchin and kathy,--for the tail was armed with a series of sharp spines which ran into his hand like lancets. this was an appropriate conclusion to a day that would have been otherwise too enjoyable. poor nigel's felicity was further diluted when he met his father. "we'll have to sleep a-board to-night," said the captain, "for there's a fair breeze outside which seems likely to hold, and the mast has been temporarily rigged up, so we'll have to up anchor, and away by break of day to-morrow." nigel's heart sank. "to-morrow! father?" "ay, to-morrow. business first, pleasure afterwards." "well, i suppose you are right, but it seems almost a shame to leave such a heaven upon earth as this in such a hurry. besides, is it not unkind to such hospitable people to bolt off after you've got all that you want out of them?" "can't help that, lad-- "dooty first, an' fun to follow, that's what beats creation hollow." "come father, don't say that you quote _that_ from mother!" "no more i do, my boy. it's my own--homemade. i put it together last night when i couldn't sleep for your snorin'." "don't tell fibs, father. you know i never snore. but--really--are we to start at daylight?" "we are, if the wind holds. but you may stay as late as you choose on shore to-night." nigel availed himself of the opportunity to see as much of the place and people as was possible in the limited time. next morning the good though damaged brig was running in the direction of sunda straits before a stiff and steady breeze. footnotes: [footnote : we recommend those who desire more curious information on the fauna and flora of the keeling islands to apply to henry o. forbes' most interesting book, _a naturalist's wanderings in the eastern archipelago_.--(sampson low.)] chapter v. captain roy surprises and gratifies his son, who surprises a negro, and suddenly forms an astonishing resolve. arrived in batavia--the low-lying seaport and capital of the dutch island of java--captain roy had his brig examined, and found that the damage she had sustained was so serious that several months would probably elapse before she would be again ready for sea. "now, nigel, my lad," said the old gentleman, on the morning after the examination had been made, "come down below with me; i want to have a confabulation with 'ee." "why, father," said the youth, when seated at the small cabin table opposite his rugged parent, "you seem to be in an unusually solemn frame of mind this morning. has anything happened?" "nothin', boy--nothin'. leastwise nothin' in particular. you know all about the brig, an' what a deal o' repair she's got to undergo?" "of course i do. you know i was present when you talked the matter over with that fellow--what's-'is-name--that gave you his report." "just so. well now, nigel, you don't suppose, do you, that i'm goin' to keep you here for some months knockin' about with nothin' to do--eatin' your grub in idleness?" "certainly not," said the youth, regarding the stern countenance of his parent with an amused look. "i have no intention of acting such an ignoble part, and i'm surprised at you askin' the question, for you know i am not lazy--at least not more so than average active men--and there must be plenty of work for me to do in looking after the cargo, superintending repairs, taking care of the ship and men. i wonder at you, father. you must either have had a shock of dotage, or fallen into a poetical vein. what is a first mate fit for if--" "nigel," said captain roy, interrupting, "i'm the owner an' commander of the _sunshine_, besides bein' the paternal parent of an impertinent son, and i claim to have the right to do as i please--therefore, hold your tongue and listen to me." "all right, father," replied the young man, with a benignant grin; "proceed, but don't be hard upon me; spare my feelings." "well now, this is how the land lies," said the old seaman, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands before him. "as mr. moor and i, with the stooard and men, are quite sufficient to manage the affairs o' the brig, and as we shall certainly be here for a considerable time to come, i've made up my mind to give you a holiday. you're young, you see, an' foolish, and your mind needs improvin'. in short, you want a good deal o' the poetry knocked out o' you, for it's not like your mother's poetry by any means, so you needn't flatter yourself--not built on the same lines by a long way. well--where was i?" "only got the length of the holiday yet, father." "only, indeed. you ungrateful dog! it's a considerable length to get, that, isn't it? well, i also intend to give you some money, to enable you to move about in this curious archipelago--not much, but enough to keep you from starvation if used with economy, so i recommend you to go into the town, make general inquiries about everything and everywhere, an' settle in your mind what you'll do, for i give you a rovin' commission an' don't want to be bothered with you for some time to come." "are you in earnest, father?" asked nigel, who had become more interested while the captain unfolded his plan. "never more in earnest in my life--except, p'raps, when i inquired over twenty years ago whether you was a boy or a gurl." "well, now, that _is_ good of you, father. of course i need not say that i am charmed at the prospect you open up to me. and--and when may i start?" "at once. up anchor and away to-night if you choose." "but--where?" "anywhere--everywhere, java, sumatra, borneo--all malaysia before you where to choose. now be off, and think over it, for i've got too much to do to waste time on you at present," said the captain, rising, "and, stay--nigel." "well?" said the youth, looking back as he was about to leave the cabin. "whatever you do, don't grow poetical about it. you know it is said somewhere, that mischief is found for idle hands to do." "all right, father. i'll keep clear of poetry--leave all that sort o' nonsense to _you_. i'll-- "i'll flee temptation's siren voice, throw poesy to the crows, and let my soul's ethereal fire gush out in sober prose." it need scarcely be said that our hero was not slow to take advantage of the opportunity thus thrown in his way. he went off immediately through the town, armed with the introduction of his father's well-known name, and made inquiries of all sorts of people as to the nature, the conditions, the facilities, and the prospects of travel in the malay archipelago. in this quest he found himself sorely perplexed for the very good reason that "all sorts" of people, having all sorts of ideas and tastes, gave amazingly conflicting accounts of the region and its attractions. wearied at last with his researches, he sauntered towards afternoon in the direction of the port, and began in a listless sort of way to watch the movements of a man who was busily engaged with a boat, as if he were making preparations to put to sea. now, whatever philosophers may say to the contrary, we hold strongly to the opinion that likings and dislikings among men and women and children are the result of some profound occult cause which has nothing whatever to do with experience. no doubt experience may afterwards come in to modify or intensify the feelings, but it is not the originating cause. if you say it is, how are we to account for love at first sight? beauty has nothing necessarily to do with it, for men fall in love at first sight with what the world calls plain women--happily! character is not the cause, for love assails the human breast, ofttimes, before the loved object has uttered a word, or perpetrated a smile, or even fulminated a glance to indicate character. so, in like manner, affection may arise between man and man. it was so on this occasion with nigel roy. as he stood abstractedly gazing at the boatman he fell in love with him--at least he took a powerful fancy to him, and this was all the more surprising that the man was a negro,--a woolly-headed, flat-nosed, thick-lipped nigger! we would not for a moment have it supposed that it is unnatural to love such a man. quite the reverse. but when such a man is a perfect stranger, has never uttered a word in one's presence, or vouchsafed so much as a glance, and is gravely, stolidly engaged in the unsavoury work of greasing some of the tackling of a boat, it does seem unaccountable that he should be unwittingly capable of stirring up in another man's bosom feelings of ardent goodwill, to put it mildly. after watching him for some time, nigel under an almost involuntary impulse shouted "hullo!" "hullo!" replied the negro, looking up with a somewhat stern frown and a pout of his thick lips, as much as to say--"who are _you_?" nigel smiled, and made that suggestive motion with his forefinger which signifies "come here." the frown fled and the pout became a smile as the negro approached, wiping his hands on a piece of cotton-waste. "what you want wi' _me_, sar?" he asked. "well, upon my word," said nigel, somewhat perplexed, "i can't very well say. i suppose something must have been in my mind, but--anyhow, i felt a desire to have a talk with you; that is, if you can spare the time." the first part of this reply induced a slight recurrence of the frown and pout, but at its conclusion the black brow cleared and the mouth expanded to such a gum-and-teeth-exposing extent that nigel fairly burst into a laugh. "you's bery good, sar," said the man, "an' i's hab much pleasure to make your acquaintance.--der an't no grease on 'em now." the last remark had reference to the enormous black paw which he held out. nigel at once grasped it and shook it heartily. "i's bery fond ob a talk, sar," continued the negro, "so as you wants one, heabe ahead." thus encouraged, our hero began by remarking that he seemed to be preparing for a trip. "dat's zackly what i's a-doin', sar." "a long one?" "well, dat depends on what you call short. goin' to sunda straits, which p'raps you know, sar, is nigh a hundred miles fro' here." "and what may you be going to do there?" asked nigel. "goin' home to krakatoa." "why, i thought that was an uninhabited island. i passed close to it on my way here, and saw no sign of inhabitants." "da's cause i was absint fro' home. an' massa he keeps indoors a good deal." "and pray who is massa?" asked nigel. "sar," said the negro, drawing up his square sturdy frame with a look of dignity; "fair-play is eberyt'ing wid me. you've ax me a heap o' questions. now's my--turn. whar you comes fro'?" "from england," replied nigel. "an' whar you go to?" "well, you've posed me now, for i really don't know where i'm going to. in fact that is the very thing i have been trying to find out all day, so if you'll help me i'll be much obliged." here nigel explained his position and difficulties, and it was quite obvious, judging from the glittering eyes and mobile mouth, that he poured his tale into peculiarly sympathetic ears. when he had finished, the negro stood for a considerable time gazing in meditative silence at the sky. "yes," he said at last, as if communing with himself, "i t'ink--i ain't quite sure, but i t'ink--i may ventur'." "whatever it is you are thinking about," remarked nigel, "you may venture to say anything you like to _me_." the negro, who, although comparatively short of stature, was herculean in build, looked at the youth with an amused expression. "you're bery good, sar, but da's not what i's t'inkin' ob. i's t'inkin' whedder i dar' ventur' to introdoce you to my massa. he's not fond o' company, an' it might make 'im angry, but he came by a heaby loss lately an' p'raps he may cond'send to receibe you. anyhow you 'd be quite safe, for he's sure to be civil to any friend ob mine." "is he then so fierce?" asked nigel, becoming interested as well as amused. "fierce! no, he's gentle as a lamb, but he's awrful when he's roused--tigers, crokindiles, 'noceroses is nuffin' to him!" "indeed! what's his name, and what does he do? how does he live?" the negro shook his head. "da's more'n i dar tell till i ax his leave, sar. i kin only say de peepil around calls 'im the hermit ob rakata, 'cause he libs by his self (wid me, ob course, but _i_ counts for nuffin), close under de ole volcano ob krakatoa. dey tink--some ob de foolish peepil--dat he hab sold his-self to de dibil, but i knows better. he's a good man, and you'd hab great fun if you stop wid him. now, what i's a-gwine to advise you is, come wid me an' see de hermit. if he lets you stop, good. if not, i fetch you ober to de main land--whar you please--an' you kin come back here or go whar you choose. its wort' your while to take your chance, anyhow." the negro said this with such an earnest look that nigel made up his mind on the spot to accept this curious invitation. "i'll go!" he exclaimed with sudden energy. "when do you start?" "to-morrer at daybreak, sar." "well, i shall have to talk it over first with my father, but i'm sure he won't object, so you may look out for me here at daybreak. shall i have to fetch any provisions with me for the voyage?" "no, nuffin'. boat's crammed wi' grub. but you'd better bring a gun o' some sort an' a 'volver, an' a big knife, an' a mortal big appetite, for a man's no good widout dat." "i always carry that about with me," said the youth, "whatever else i may leave behind; and i'll see to the other things.--by the way, what's your name?" "moses." "is that all?" "isn't dat enuff?" returned the negro with a look of dignity. "quite; but i have the advantage of you there, moses, for i have two names--nigel roy." "well, i don't see much use ob two, but which does you like to be called by--nadgel or roy?" "whichever you please, moses; i'll answer to either. so now, good-bye for the present, and look out for me to-morrow at daylight." "good-bye, massa nadgel, till to-morrer." the negro waved his hand and, sauntering slowly back to his boat, remarked in an undertone, "i lub dat young feller!" saying which, he resumed his greasing operations. of course captain roy made no objection to his son's proposal, though he freely gave his opinion that it was a wild-goose chase. "however, lad, please yourself and you'll please me," he added; "and now, be particular to bear in mind that you've got to write to me every time you get within hail of a post-office or a passing ship or steamer that may chance to be comin' this way, and in each letter be sure to tell me where you're goin' to next, so as i may send a letter there to you in case i want you to return sudden or otherwise. we mustn't lose touch, you see. you needn't write long screeds. i only want to know your whereabouts from time to time. for the rest--you can spin it out in yarns when you come back." chapter vi. the hermit of rakata introduced. nothing worthy of particular note occurred during the boat-voyage along the northern shore of java to sunda straits. a fair, steady breeze wafted them westward, and, on the morning of the third day, they came in sight of the comparatively small uninhabited island of krakatoa. the boat in which they voyaged, although a little one, had a small portion of the bow decked over, so that our hero and his sable friend could find shelter from the night air when disposed to sleep and from the fierce rays of the sun at noon. by the advice of his father, nigel had changed his sailor costume for the "shore-goin' toggery" in which he had landed on the keeling islands, as being more suitable to his new character as a traveller, namely, a white cloth cap with a peak in front and a curtain behind to protect his neck, a light-grey tunic belted at the waist, and a pair of strong canvas trousers. he had also purchased an old-fashioned double-barrelled fowling-piece, muzzle-loading and with percussion locks. "for you see, nigel," the captain had said, "it's all very well to use breech-loaders when you've got towns and railways and suchlike to supply you wi' cartridges, but when you've got to cruise in out-o'-the-way waters, there's nothin' like the old style. it's not difficult to carry a few thousand percussion-caps an' a bullet-mould about wi' you wherever you go. as to powder, why, you'll come across that 'most everywhere, an' lead too; and, for the matter o' that, if your life depended on it you could shove a handful of gravel or a pen-knife or tooth-pick into your gun an' blaze away, but with a breech-loader, if you run out o' cartridges, where are you?" so, as nigel could not say where he was, the percussion-gun had been purchased. the peak of rakata--the highest in the island--a little over feet, came in sight first; gradually the rest of the island rose out of the horizon, and ere long the rich tropical verdure became distinguishable. krakatoa--destined so soon to play a thrilling part in the world's history; to change the aspect of the heavens everywhere; to attract the wondering gaze of nearly all nations, and to devastate its immediate neighbourhood--is of volcanic origin, and, at the time we write of ( ) was beginning to awaken from a long, deep slumber of two hundred years. its last explosion occurred in the year . since that date it had remained quiet. but now the tremendous subterranean forces which had originally called it into being were beginning to reassert their existence and their power. vulcan was rousing himself again and beginning once more to blow his bellows. so said some of the sailors who were constantly going close past the island and through sunda straits, which may be styled the narrows of the world's highway to the china seas. subterranean forces, however, are so constantly at work more or less violently in those regions that people took little notice of these indications in the comparatively small island of krakatoa, which was between five and six miles long by four broad. as we have said, it was uninhabited, and lying as it does between sumatra and java, about sixteen miles from the former and over twenty miles from the latter, it was occasionally visited by fishermen. the hermit whom nigel was about to visit might, in some sort, be counted an inhabitant, for he had dwelt there many years, but he lived in a cave which was difficult of access, and held communication with no one. how he spent his time was a mystery, for although his negro servant went to the neighbouring town of anjer in java for supplies, and sometimes to batavia, as we have seen, no piece of inanimate ebony from the forest could have been less communicative than he. indeed, our hero was the first to unlock the door of his lips, with that key of mysterious sympathy to which reference has already been made. some of the bolder of the young fishermen of the neighbouring coasts had several times made futile efforts to find out where and how the hermit lived, but the few who got a glimpse of him at a distance brought back such a report that a kind of superstitious fear of him was generated which kept them at a respectful distance. he was ten feet high, some romancers said, with shoulders four feet broad, a chest like a sugar-hogshead, and a countenance resembling a compound of orang-utan and tiger. of course our hero knew nothing of these rumours, and as moses declined to give any information regarding his master beyond that already given, he was left to the full play of his imagination. moses was quite candid about it. he made no pretence to shroud things in mystery. "you mus' know, massa nadgel," he said, as they slowly drew near to the island, "i's 'fraid ob 'im dough i lub 'im." "but why do you love him, moses?" "'cause he sabe my life an' set me free." "indeed? well, that is good reason. and why do you fear him?" "da's what i don' know, massa," replied the negro with a puzzled look. "is he harsh, then?" "no." "passionate?" "no. gentle as a lamb." "strong?" "yes--oh! mighty strong an' big." "surely you're not afraid of his giving you a licking, moses?" "oh no," returned the negro, with a smile of expansive benignity; "i's not 'fraid ob dat. i's bin a slabe once, got used to lickin's. don't care nuffin' at all for a lickin'!" "then it must be that you're afraid of hurting his feelings, moses, for i know of no other kind of fear." "pr'aps da's it!" said the negro with a bright look, "now i wouldn't wonder if you's right, massa nadgel. it neber come into my head in dat light before. i used to be t'ink, t'inkin' ob nights--when i's tired ob countin' my fingers an' toes--but i couldn't make nuffin' ob it. _now_ i knows! it's 'fraid i am ob hurtin' his feelin's." in the excess of his satisfaction at the solution of this long-standing puzzle, moses threw back his head, shut his eyes, opened his enormous mouth and chuckled. by the time he had reversed this process they were sufficiently near to krakatoa to distinguish all its features clearly, and the negro began to point out to nigel its various localities. there were three prominent peaks on it, he said, named respectively, perboewatan about feet high, at the northern end of the island; danan, near the centre, feet; and rakata, at the southern end, over feet. it was high up on the sides of the last cone that the residence of the hermit was situated. "and you won't tell me your master's name?" said nigel. moses shook his woolly head. "no, sar, no. i's 'fraid ob him--he! he! 'fraid ob hurtin' his feelin's!" "well, never mind; i'll find it out from himself soon. by the way, what were you telling me about explosions yesterday when that little white gull came to admire your pretty face, and took off our attention?" "well, i dun know. not got much to tell, only dar's bin rumblin' an' grumblin's an' heavin's lately in de mountains as didn't use to be, an' cracks like somet'in' bustin' down blow, an' massa he shook 'is head two or free times an' look solemn. he don't often do dat--shook 'is head, i mean--for he mostly always looks solemn." a few minutes later the boat, running through a narrow opening among the rocks into a small circular harbour not more than fifty yards in diameter, rested its keel gently on a little bed of pure yellow sand. the shore there was so densely covered with bushes that the harbour might easily have been passed without being observed. jumping ashore, moses made the painter fast to a tree. "what a quiet, cosy place!" said nigel, as he sprang on the beach and looked admiringly round. "yes, an' not easy to find if you don't knows 'im. we will leabe de boat here,--no danger ob bein' tooked away--an' den go up to de cave." "is it far?" asked nigel. "a good bit--near de top ob de mountain,"--answered the negro, who looked at his companion somewhat uneasily. "why, what's the matter, moses?" "nuffin'--oh! nuffin'--but--but when massa axes you who you is, an' what you bin up to, an' whar your a-gwine to, an' what wages you want, jist you answer 'im in a sorter permiscuous way, an' don't be too partikler." "wages! man, what d' ye mean?" "well, you'll 'scuse me, sar," returned the negro with an air of profound humility, "but my massa lost a old sarvint--a nigger like myself--only last munt', an' he wants to go on one ob his usual expeditions jus' now, so he sends me to batavia to git anoder man--'a good one, you know,' says massa,--an' as you, sar, was good 'nuff to ax me what you should do, an' you looked a pritty smart man, i----" "you scoundrel!" cried nigel, interrupting him, "do you really mean to tell me that you've brought me here as a hired servant?" "well, not zackly," returned moses, with solemn simplicity, "you needn't ax no wages unless you like." "but what if i don't want to take service?" demanded our hero, with a savage frown. "you kin go home agin," answered moses, humbly. nigel could contain himself no longer. as he observed the man's deprecatory air, and thought of his own position, he burst into a fit of hearty laughter, whereupon the negro recovered himself and smiled the smile of the guiltless. "come," said nigel at last. "lead on, you rascal! when i see your master i shall know what to say." "all right, massa nadgel, but mind what you say, else i won't answer for de consikences. foller me an' look arter your feet, for de road is roughish." the negro's last remark was unquestionably true, for the road--if a mere footpath merits the name--was rugged in the extreme--here winding round the base of steep cliffs, there traversing portions of luxuriant forest, elsewhere skirting the margin of the sea. moses walked at such a pace that nigel, young and active though he was, found it no easy matter to keep up with him. pride, however, forbade him to show the slightest sign of difficulty, and made him even converse now and then in tones of simulated placidity. at last the path turned abruptly towards the face of a precipice and seemed to terminate in a small shallow cave. any one following the path out of mere curiosity would have naturally imagined that the cave was the termination of it; and a very poor termination too, seeing that it was a rather uninteresting cave, the whole of the interior of which could be seen at a single glance from its mouth. but this cave served in reality as a blind. climbing by one or two projecting points, the negro, closely followed by nigel, reached a narrow ledge and walked along it a short distance. on coming to the end of the ledge he jumped down into a mass of undergrowth, where the track again became visible--winding among great masses of weatherworn lava. here the ascent became very steep, and moses put on what sporting men call a spurt, which took him far ahead of nigel, despite the best efforts of the latter to keep up. still our hero scorned to run or call out to his guide to wait, and thereby admit himself beaten. he pushed steadily on, and managed to keep the active moses in view. presently the negro stepped upon a platform of rock high up on the cliffs, where his form could be distinctly seen against the bright sky. there nigel observed that he was joined by a man whose tall commanding figure seemed in such a position to be of gigantic proportions. the two stood engaged in earnest conversation while watching nigel. the latter immediately slackened his pace, in order at once to recover breath and approach with a leisurely aspect. "the wild man of the island, i suppose," he thought as he drew near; but on coming still nearer he saw that he must be mistaken, for the stranger who advanced to meet him with gracious ease and self-possession was obviously a gentleman, and dressed, not unlike himself, in a sort of mixed travelling and shooting costume. "i must apologise, mr. roy, for the presumption of my man, in bringing you here under something like false pretences," said the stranger, holding out his hand, which nigel shook heartily. "moses, i find, has failed to execute my commission, and has partially deceived you; but as you are now here, the least i can do is to bid you welcome, and offer you the hospitality of my roof." there was something so courteous and kindly in the tone and manner of the stranger, and something so winning in his soft gentle tones, which contrasted strangely with his grand towering figure and massive bearded countenance, that nigel felt drawn to him instantly. indeed there was a peculiar and mysterious something about him which quite fascinated our hero as he looked up at him, for, bordering on six feet though nigel was, the stranger stood several inches above him. "you are very kind," said the visitor, "and i don't think that moses can fairly be charged with deceiving me, although he has been somewhat unwise in his way of going about this business, for i had told him i wanted to see something of these regions, and perhaps it may be to my advantage to travel in your service--that is, if i can be of any use to you; but the time at my disposal may be too limited." "how much time have you to spare?" asked the stranger. "well, say perhaps three months." "that will do," returned his questioner, looking thoughtfully at the ground. "we will talk of this hereafter." "but--excuse me," said nigel, "your man spoke of you as a hermit--a sort of--of--forgive me--a wild-man-of-the-island, if i may--" "no, i didn't, massa nadgel," said the negro, the edge of whose flat contradiction was taken off by the extreme humility of his look. "well," returned nigel, with a laugh; "you at least gave me to understand that other people said something of that sort." "da's right, massa nadgel--kite right. you're k'rect _now_." "people have indeed got some strange ideas about me, i believe," interposed the hermit, with a grave almost sad expression and tone. "but come, let me introduce you to my hermitage and you shall judge for yourself." so saying, this singular being turned and led the way further up the rugged side of the peak of rakata. after about five minutes' walk in silence, the trio reached a spot where there was a clear view over the tree-tops, revealing the blue waters of the strait, with the java shores and mountains in the distance. behind them there yawned, dark and mysterious, a mighty cavern, so black and high that it might well suggest a portal leading to the regions below, where vulcan is supposed to stir those tremendous fires which have moulded much of the configuration of the world, and which are ever seething--an awful inferno--under the thin crust of the globe on which we stand. curiously formed and large-leaved trees of the tropics, with their pendent parasites, as well as rank grasses, sprouting from below and hanging from above, partially concealed this cavern from nigel when he first turned towards it, but a few steps further on he could see it in all its rugged grandeur. "my home," said the hermit, with a very slight smile and the air of a prince, as he turned towards his visitor and waved his hand towards it. "a magnificent entrance at all events," said nigel, returning the smile with something of dubiety, for he was not quite sure that his host was in earnest. "follow me," said the hermit, leading the way down a narrow well-worn path which seemed to lose itself in profound darkness. after being a few minutes within the cavern, however, nigel's eyes became accustomed to the dim light, and he perceived that the roof rapidly lowered, while its walls narrowed until they reached a spot which was not much wider than an ordinary corridor. here, however, it was so dark that it was barely possible to see a small door in the right-hand wall before which they halted. lifting a latch the hermit threw the door wide open, and a glare of dazzling light almost blinded the visitor. passing through the entrance, nigel followed his guide, and the negro let the heavy door shut behind him with a clang that was depressingly suggestive of a prison. "again i bid you welcome to my home," said the hermit, turning round and extending his hand, which nigel mechanically took and pressed, but without very well knowing what he did, for he was almost dumfounded by what he saw, and for some minutes gazed in silence around him. and, truly, there was ground for surprise. the visitor found himself in a small but immensely high and brilliantly lighted cavern or natural chamber, the walls of which were adorned with drawings of scenery and trees and specimens of plants, while on various shelves stood innumerable stuffed birds, and shells, and other specimens of natural history. a table and two chairs stood at one end of the cave, and, strangest of all, a small but well-filled book-case ornamented the other end. "arabian nights!" thought nigel. "i _must_ be dreaming." his wandering eyes travelled slowly round the cavern until they rested at last on the door by which they had entered, beside which stood the negro with a broad grin on his sable visage. chapter vii. wonders of the hermit's cave and island. the thing that perhaps surprised nigel most in this strange cavern was the blaze of light with which it was filled, for it came down direct through a funnel-shaped hole in the high roof and bore a marvellous resemblance to natural sunshine. he was well aware that unless the sun were shining absolutely in the zenith, the laws of light forbade the entrance of a _direct_ ray into such a place, yet there were the positive rays, although the sun was not yet high in the heavens, blinding him while he looked at them, and casting the shadows of himself and his new friends on the floor. there was the faintest semblance of a smile on the hermit's face as he quietly observed his visitor, and waited till he should recover self-possession. as for moses--words are wanting to describe the fields of teeth and gum which he displayed, but no sound was suffered to escape his magnificent lips, which closed like the slide of a dark lantern when the temptation to give way to feeling became too strong. "my cave interests you," said the hermit at last. "it amazes me," returned our hero, recovering himself and looking earnestly at his host, "for you seem not only to have all the necessaries of life around you in your strange abode, but many of the luxuries; among them the cheering presence of sunshine--though how you manage to get it is beyond my powers of conception." "it is simple enough, as you shall see," returned the hermit. "you have heard of the saying, no doubt, that 'all things are possible to well-directed labour'?" "yes, and that 'nothing can be achieved without it.'" "well, i have proved that to some extent," continued the hermit. "you see, by the various and miscellaneous implements on my shelves, that i am given to dabbling a little in science, and thus have made my lonely home as pleasant as such a home can be--but let us not talk of these matters just now. you must be hungry. have you had breakfast?" "no, we have not--unless, at least, you count a sea biscuit dipped in salt water a breakfast. after all, that may well be the case, for hermits are noted for the frugality of their fare." "i am not a genuine hermit," remarked his host gravely. "men do indeed call me the hermit of rakata, because i dwell alone here under the shadow of this particular cone of krakatoa, but i do not ape the austere life of the conventional hermit, as you see, either in my domestic arrangements or food. come, your breakfast is ready. from my outlook i saw your boat approaching some hours ago, and knew that it was mine, so i made ready for your arrival, though i did not guess that moses was bringing me a guest instead of a servant!" so saying, he led the way through a short natural passage to an inner cave, the entrance to which, like the outer one, was boarded. on opening a small door, nigel was again greeted as before with brilliant rays of sunshine, and, in addition, with a gush of odours that were exceedingly grateful to a hungry man. a low "ho! ho!" behind him told that his black companion was equally gratified. the inner cave or mess-room, as the host styled it, combined dining-room and kitchen, for while in one corner stood a deal table with plates, cups, etc., but no tablecloth, in another stood a small stove, heated by an oil lamp, from which issued puffing and sputtering sounds, and the savoury odours above referred to. nigel now perceived that although his strange host necessarily spoke a good deal while welcoming him and offering him the hospitalities of his abode, he was by no means communicative. on the contrary, it was evident that he was naturally reserved and reticent, and that although polite and gentle in the extreme, there was a quiet grave dignity about him which discouraged familiarity. it must not be supposed, however, that he was in any degree morosely silent. he was simply quiet and undemonstrative, said little except when asked questions, and spoke, alike to nigel and moses, in the soft, low, kindly tones with which one might address very young people. going to the stove he took a coffee-pot therefrom and set it on the table. at the same time, moses, without requiring to be told, opened the oven and brought forth fried fish, meat of some kind, and cakes of he knew not what, but cared little, for their excellence was unquestionable. during the meal that followed, nigel ventured as far as politeness permitted--indeed a little further, if truth must be told--to inquire into the circumstances and motives of his entertainer in taking up his abode in such a strange place, but he soon found that his eccentric friend was not one who could be "pumped." without a touch of rudeness, and in the sweetest of voices, he simply assumed an absent manner and changed the subject of discourse, when he did not choose to reply, by drawing attention to some irrelevant matter, or by putting a counter question which led away from the subject. nigel also found that his host never laughed and rarely smiled, though, when he did so the smile was so slight as merely to indicate a general feeling of urbanity and goodwill, and it was followed instantly by a look of gravity, if not sadness. altogether the guest was much perplexed about the host at first, and somewhat constrained in consequence, but gradually he began to feel at ease. another discovery that he soon made was, that the hermit treated moses not as a servant, but as if he were in all respects an equal and a comrade. after eating for some time in silence, and having tried to draw out his host without success, nigel changed his tactics and said-- "you were so kind as to speak of me as your guest, mr.---- mr.---- i beg pardon, may i--" "my name is van der kemp," said the hermit quietly. "well, mr. van der kemp, i must tell you that i am quite willing to accept the position for which moses hired me--" "no, i didn't," contradicted the negro, flatly yet very gently, both in tone and manner, for long residence with the hermit had apparently imbued him with something of his spirit. "well, then," said nigel, "the position for which moses _should have_ hired some one else. ('k'rect _now_' whispered moses.) of course i do not intend to ask for or accept wages, and also, of course, i accept the position on the understanding that you think me fit for the service. may i ask what that service is to be, and where you think of going to?" "the service," returned the hermit slowly and with his eyes fixed on the floor as if pondering his reply, "is to accompany me as my attendant and companion, to take notes as occasion may serve, and to paddle a canoe." at this reply our hero almost laughed, but was prevented from doing so by his host asking abruptly if he understood canoeing. "well, yes. at least i can manage what in england is known as the rob roy canoe, having possessed one in my boyhood." "that will do," returned the hermit gravely. "can you write shorthand?" "i can. a friend of mine, a reporter on one of the london dailies, once gave me a few lessons, and, becoming fond of the subject, i followed it up." "that is well; you did well. it is of immense advantage to a man, whatever his position in life, that he should be able to write shorthand with facility. especially useful is it in commerce. i know that, having had some experience of commercial life." at this point in the conversation nigel was startled by what was to him an absolutely new sensation, namely a shaking or trembling of the whole cavern, accompanied by faint rumbling sounds as if in deeper caverns below him. he glanced quickly at his host and at the negro, but to his surprise these remarkable men seemed not to be aware of the shaking, although it was severe enough to cause some of the furniture to rattle. observing his look of surprise, moses remarked, with a benignant though capacious smile, "mountain's got de mulligrumps pritty bad jist now." "we are pretty well accustomed to that," said the host, observing that nigel turned to him for an explanation. "no doubt you are aware that this region is celebrated for earthquakes and volcanoes, so much so that the inhabitants pay little attention to them unless they become unusually violent. this island of krakatoa is itself the fragment of an extinct volcano; but the term 'extinct' is scarcely applicable to volcanoes, for it is well known that many which were for centuries supposed to be extinct have awakened to sudden and violent activity--'quiescent' might be a more appropriate term." "yes," said moses, ceasing to masticate for purposes of speech; "dem 'stinkt volcanoes hab got an okard habit ob unstinkin' dereselves hereabouts when you don' 'spect it of 'em. go on, massa. i ax yer pard'n for 'truptin'." the hermit's peculiar good-natured little smile played for a moment on his massive features, and then faded away as he continued-- "perhaps you may have heard that this is the very heart of the district that has long been recognised as the greatest focus of volcanic activity on the globe?" "i have heard something of the sort," answered nigel, "but i confess that my knowledge is limited and my mind hazy on the subject." "i doubt it not," returned his friend, "for geographical and scientific training in primary schools anywhere is not what it might be. the island of java, with an area about equal to that of england, contains no fewer than forty-nine great volcanic mountains, some of which rise to , feet above the sea-level. many of these mountains are at the present time active ('yes, much _too_ active,' muttered the negro), and more than half of them have been seen in eruption since java was occupied by europeans. hot springs, mud-volcanoes, and vapour-vents abound all over the island, whilst earthquakes are by no means uncommon. there is a distinct line in the chain of these mountains which seems to point to a great fissure in the earth's crust, caused by the subterranean fires. this tremendous crack or fissure crosses the straits of sunda, and in consequence we find a number of these vents--as volcanic mountains may be styled--in the island of sumatra, which you saw to the nor'ard as you came along. but there is supposed to be another great crack in the earth's crust--indicated by several volcanic mountains--which crosses the other fissure almost at right angles, and at the exact point where these two lines intersect _stands this island of krakatoa_! "i emphasise the fact," continued the hermit after a pause, "first, because, although this has been a quiescent volcano since the year , and people have come to regard it as extinct, there are indications now which lead me to believe that its energy is reviving; and, second, because this focus where fissures cross each other--this krakatoa island--is in reality part of the crater of an older and much larger volcanic mountain, which must have been literally blown away in prehistoric times, and of which krakatoa and the neighbouring islets of varlaten, polish hat, lang island, and the rest, are but the remnants of the great crater ring. if these rumblings and minor earthquakes, which i have noticed of late--and the latest of which you have just experienced--are the precursors of another explosion, my home here may be rendered untenable." "hi!" exclaimed moses, who had been listening with open mouth and eyes to this discourse, which was obviously news to him, "i hope, massa, he ain't a-gwine to 'splode to-day--anyhow, not till after breakfast!" "you must have studied the subject of volcanoes a good deal, i suppose, from what you say," observed nigel. "naturally; living as i do almost on the top of one. my library, which i will show you presently, contains many interesting works on the subject. but come, if you have finished we will ascend the peak of rakata and i will introduce you to my sunshine." he rose and led his guest back to the outer cavern, leaving moses still busy with knife and fork, apparently meditating on the pleasure of breakfasting with the prospect of a possible and immediate explosion. in passing through the first chamber, nigel observed, in a natural recess, the library just referred to. he also noted that, besides stuffed birds and other specimens and sea-shells, there were chisels, saws, hammers, and other tools, besides something like a forge and carpenter's bench in a side-chamber opening out of the large one, which he had not at first seen--from all which he concluded that the hermit was imbued with mechanical as well as scientific and literary tastes. at the further and darker end of the outer cave there was a staircase, partly natural, and partly improved by art, which led upward into profound darkness. "let me take your hand here," said the hermit, looking down upon his guest with his slight but winning smile; "it is a rough and dark staircase. you will be apt to stumble." nigel placed his hand in that of his host with perfect confidence, and with a curious feeling--aroused, probably, by the action--of having returned to the days of childhood. the stair was indeed rugged as well as winding, and so pitchy dark that the youth could not have advanced at all without stumbling, unless his host had held him all the way. at last a glimmer of light was seen in the distance. it seemed to increase suddenly, and in a few moments the two emerged from total darkness into dazzling sunshine. when nigel looked round him he saw that they had gained a plateau, high up on the very summit of the mountain, which appeared to be absolutely inaccessible by any means save that by which they had reached it. "this is what i call my observatory," said the hermit, turning to his guest. "we have passed right through the peak of rakata, and reached its northern side, which commands, as you see, a view of all the northern part of the island. i come here often in the night to study the face of the heavens, the moon, and stars, and meditate on their mysterious maker, whose ways are indeed wonderful and past finding out; but all which must, in the nature of things, be _right_." as this was the first mention that the hermit had made of the creator, and the reference was one requiring more thought than nigel had yet bestowed on it, he made no rejoinder. "have you studied astronomy, mr. roy?" "no--at least not more of it than was needful for navigation. but pray, sir, do not call me mr. roy," said the youth, with a somewhat embarrassed air. "if i am to be your assistant and familiar companion for two or three months, i hope that you will agree to call me nigel. your man has done so already without asking leave!" "i will, on one condition." "and that is--?" "that you also dispense with the 'mr.' and 'sir,' and call me van der kemp." "agreed," said nigel, "though it does not seem so appropriate in me as in you, considering the difference of our years." "look here," said the hermit, turning abruptly to a small wooden shed which had hitherto escaped the youth's observation, so covered was it with overhanging boughs and tropical creeping plants, "these are my astronomical instruments." he pointed to a table in the hut on which stood several telescopes--and microscopes as well--one of the former being a large instrument, certainly not less than six feet long, with a diameter of apparently six or eight inches. "here, you see, i have the means of investigating the wonders of nature in her grandest as well as her minutest scales. and there," he added, pointing to a couple of large reflecting mirrors in strong wooden frames, erected on joints in such a way that they could be turned in any direction,--"there you have the secret of my sunshine. one of these mirrors catches the sunshine direct and reflects it on the other, which, as you see, is so arranged that it transmits the rays down the natural funnel or chimney into the cave. by means of chains connected with the mechanism, and extending below, i can change the direction of the mirrors as the sun changes its place in the sky, without requiring to come up here." "very ingenious!" said nigel; "but how do you manage when the mountain comes between you and the sun, as i see it cannot fail to do during some part of the day?" "simply enough," returned the hermit, pointing to a distant projecting cliff or peak. "on yon summit i have fixed four mirrors similar to these. when the sun can no longer be reflected from this pair, the first of the distant mirrors takes it up and shoots a beam of light over here. when the sun passes from that, the second mirror is arranged to catch and transmit it, and so on to the fourth. after that i bid good-bye to the sun, and light my lamp!" nigel felt an almost irresistible tendency to smile at this, but the grave simplicity of the man forbade such familiarity. "look yonder," continued the hermit, sweeping one of his long arms towards sumatra, "in that direction runs the line of volcanic disturbance--the fissure of which i have already spoken. focus this telescope to suit your sight. now, do you see the little island away there to the nor'-west?" "yes." "well, that is _varlaten_. i mentioned it when at breakfast. sweep your glass round to the nor'ard, the little island there is _polish hat_, and you see _lang island_ in the nor'-east. these, with krakatoa, are merely the higher parts still remaining above water of the ring or lip of the ancient crater. this will give you some idea what an enormous mountain the original of this old volcano must have been. this island-mountain is estimated to have been twenty-five miles in circumference, and , to , feet high. it was blown into the air in , and this island, with the few islets i have pointed out, is all that remains of it! now, cast your eye down the centre of the island on which we stand; you see several cones of various sizes. these are ancient vents, supposed to be extinct--" "but one of them, the one furthest away," interrupted nigel, steadying his telescope on the branch of a tree, "seems to be anything but extinct, for i see a thin column of white smoke or steam rising from it." "that is just what i was going to point out. they call that perboewatan. it is the lowest peak on the island, about feet high, and stands, i should say, in the very centre of the ancient crater, where are the two fissures i have mentioned. for two hundred years perboewatan has not smoked like that, and, slight though it is at present, i cannot help thinking that it indicates an impending eruption, especially when i consider that earthquakes have become more numerous of late years, and there was one in which was so violent as to damage seriously the lighthouse on java's first point." "then you have resided here for some time?" said nigel. "yes, for many years," replied the hermit, in a low, sad tone. "but is it wise in you to stay if you think an explosion so likely? don't you needlessly run considerable risk?" "i do not fear to die." nigel looked at his new friend in surprise, but there was not a shadow of boastfulness or affectation either in his look or tone. "besides," he continued, "the explosion may be but slight, and perboewatan is, as you see, about four miles off. people in the neighbourhood of the straits and passing ships are so accustomed to volcanic explosions on a more or less grand scale that they will never notice this little cloud hanging over krakatoa. those who, like myself, know the ancient history of the island, regard it in a more serious light, but we may be wrong. come, now, we will descend again and have a ramble over part of the island. it will interest you. not many men have penetrated its luxuriant forests or know their secrets. i have wandered through them in all directions, and can guide you. indeed, moses could do that as well as i, for he has lived with me many years. come." returning to the cavern they found that the active negro had not only finished his breakfast, but had washed the dishes and cleared up the kitchen, so that he was quite ready to shoulder a wallet and a gun when his master bade him prepare for a day in the forest. it is not, however, our intention to follow the trio thither. matters of greater interest, if not importance, claim our attention at present. let it suffice to say, therefore, that after a most delightful day, spent in wandering amongst the luxuriant tropical vegetation with which the island was densely covered, visiting one of the extinct craters, bathing in one of the numerous hot springs, and collecting many objects of interest to the hermit, in the shape of botanical and geological specimens, they returned in the evening to their cavern-house not only ready but eager for sustenance and repose. chapter viii. perboewatan becomes moderately violent. the cave was enshrouded in almost total darkness when they entered it, but this was quickly dispelled, to nigel's no little surprise, by the rays of a magnificent oil lamp, which moses lighted and placed on the table in the larger cave. a smaller one of the same kind already illuminated the kitchen. not much conversation was indulged in during the progress of the supper that was soon spread upon the rude table. the three men, being uncommonly hungry and powerfully robust, found in food a sufficient occupation for their mouths for some time. after supper they became a little, but not much, more sociable, for, although nigel's active mind would gladly have found vent in conversation, he experienced some difficulty in making headway against the discouragement of van der kemp's very quiet disposition, and the cavernous yawns with which moses displayed at once his desire for slumber and his magnificent dental arrangements. "we always retire early to rest after a day of this sort," said the hermit at last, turning to his guest. "do you feel disposed for bed?" "indeed i do," said nigel, with a half-suppressed yawn, that was irresistibly dragged out of him by the sight of another earthquake on the negro's face. "come, then, i will show you your berth; we have no bedrooms here," said the hermit, with a sort of deprecatory smile, as he led the way to the darker end of the cavern, where he pointed to a little recess in which there was a pile of something that smelt fresh and looked like heather, spread on which there was a single blanket. "sailors are said to be indifferent to sheets. you won't miss them, i daresay?" "not in the least," returned nigel, with a laugh. "good-night," he added, shaking hands with his host and suppressing another yawn, for moses' face, even in the extreme distance, was irresistibly infectious! our hero was indifferent not only to sheets, but also, in certain circumstances, to the usual habiliments of night. indeed, while travelling in out-of-the-way regions he held it to be a duty to undress but partially before turning in, so that he might be ready for emergencies. on lying down he found his mattress, whatever it was, to be a springy, luxurious bed, and was about to resign himself to slumber when he observed that, from the position in which he lay, he could see the cavern in all its extent. opening his half-closed eyes, therefore, he watched the proceedings of his host, and in doing so, as well as in speculating on his strange character and surroundings, he became somewhat wakeful. he saw that van der kemp, returning to the other end of the cave, sat down beside the lamp, the blaze of which fell full on his fine calm countenance. a motion of his head brought moses to him, who sat down beside him and entered into earnest conversation, to judge from his gestures, for nothing could be heard where nigel lay save the monotonous murmur of their voices. the hermit did not move. except for an occasional inclination of the head he appeared to be a grand classic statue, but it was otherwise with the negro. his position in front of the lamp caused him to look if possible even blacker than ever, and the blackness was so uniform that his entire profile became strongly pronounced, thus rendering every motion distinct, and the varied pouting of his huge lips remarkably obvious. the extended left hand, too, with the frequent thrusting of the index finger of the other into the palm, was suggestive of argument, and of much reasoning effort--if not power. after about half-an-hour of conversation, moses arose, shook his master by the hand, appeared to say "good-night" very obviously, yawned, and retired to the kitchen, whence, in five minutes or so, there issued sounds which betokened felicitous repose. meanwhile his master sat motionless for some time, gazing at the floor as if in meditation. then he rose, went to his book-case and took down a large thick volume, which he proceeded to read. nigel had by that time dropped into a drowsy condition, yet his interest in the doings of his strange entertainer was so great that he struggled hard to keep awake, and partially succeeded. "i wonder," he muttered, in sleepy tones, "if that's a f--fam--'ly bible he's reading--or--or--a vol'm o' the en--encyclopida brit--" he dropped off at this point, but, feeling that he had given way to some sort of weakness, he struggled back again into wakefulness, and saw that the hermit was bending over the large book with his massive brow resting on the palms of both hands, and his fingers thrust into his iron-grey hair. it was evident, however, that he was not reading the book at that moment, for on its pages was lying what seemed to be a miniature or photograph case, at which he gazed intently. nigel roused himself to consider this, and in doing so again dropped off--not yet soundly, however, for curiosity induced one more violent struggle, and he became aware of the fact that the hermit was on his knees with his face buried in his hands. the youth's thoughts must have become inextricably confused at this point, yet their general drift was indicated by the muttered words: "i--i'm glad o' that--a good sign--an'--an' it's _not_ th' encyclop----." here morpheus finally conquered, and he sank into dreamless repose. how long this condition lasted he could not tell, but he was awakened violently by sensations and feelings of dread, which were entirely new to him. the bed on which he rested seemed to heave under him, and his ears were filled by sharp rattling sounds, something like--yet very different from--the continuous roll of musketry. starting up, he sprang into the large cavern where he found van der kemp quietly tightening his belt and moses hastily pulling on his boots. "sometin's bu'sted an' no mistake!" exclaimed the latter. "an eruption from one of the cones," said the hermit. "i have been for a long time expecting it. come with us." he went swiftly up the staircase and passages which led to the observatory as he spoke. the scene that met their eyes on reaching the ledge or plateau was sublime in the extreme, as well as terrific. "as i thought," said van der kemp, in a low tone. "it is perboewatan that has broken out." "the cone from which i observed smoke rising?" asked nigel. "the same. the one over the very centre of the old crater, showing that we were wrong in supposing it to be extinct: it was only slumbering. it is in what vulcanologists term moderate eruption now, and, perhaps, may prove a safety-valve which will prevent a more violent explosion." that the cone of perboewatan was indeed in a state of considerable activity, worthy of a stronger term than "moderate," was very obvious. although at a distance, as we have said, of four miles, the glare of its fires on the three figures perched near the top of rakata was very intense, while explosion after explosion sent molten lava and red-hot rocks, pumice, and dust, high into the thickening air--clouds of smoke and steam being vomited forth at the same time. the wind, of which there was very little, blew it all away from the position occupied by the three observers. "what if the wind were to change and blow it all this way?" asked nigel, with very pardonable feelings of discomfort. "we could return to the cavern," said the hermit. "but what if rakata itself should become active?" it was evident from the very solemn expression on the negro's face that he awaited the reply to nigel's question with some anxiety. "rakata," answered the hermit thoughtfully, "although the highest cone, is the one most distant from the great centre of activity. it is therefore not likely that the volcanic energy will seek a vent here while there are other cones between us and perboewatan. but we shall soon see whether the one vent is likely to suffice. there is undoubtedly no diminution in the explosions at present." there certainly was not, for the voice of the speaker was almost drowned by the horrible din caused, apparently, by the hurtling of innumerable fragments of rock and stones in the air, while a succession of fiery flashes, each followed by a loud explosion, lit up the dome-shaped mass of vapour that was mounting upwards and spreading over the sky. vivid flashes of lightning were also seen playing around the vapour-column. at the same time, there began a fall of fine white dust, resembling snow, which soon covered the foliage and the ground of all the lower part of the island. the sea around was also ere long covered with masses of pumice, which, being very light, floated away into the indian ocean, and these were afterwards encountered in large quantities by various vessels passing through sunda straits. the scientific committee, which ultimately wrote on the details of this eruption in krakatoa, mention this first outburst as being a phase of moderate activity, similar to that which is said to have been exhibited for some months during the years and , and they added that "the outburst was one of considerable violence, especially at its commencement," that falls of dust were noticed at the distance of three hundred miles, and that "the commander of the german war-vessel _elizabeth_ estimated the height of the dust-column issuing from the volcano at kilometres ( , feet or about miles)."[ ] to our hero, however, and to moses, the outburst seemed anything but "moderate," and that night as they two sat together in the cave after supper, listening with awe-struck faces to the cannonading and wild musketry going on as it seemed under their very feet, the negro solemnly imparted to nigel in a low whisper that he thought "de end ob de wurld hab come at last!" returning at that moment from his observatory, to which he had ascended for a few minutes to view the scene through one of his glasses, van der kemp relieved their anxieties somewhat by remarking, in his quiet manner, that there was a distinct diminution in the violence of the explosions, and that, from his knowledge and experience of other volcanoes in java, sumatra, and elsewhere, he thought it probable they had seen the worst of it at that time, and that none of the other cones would be likely to break out. "i'm glad to hear you say so," observed nigel, "for although the sight is extremely magnificent and very interesting, both from a scientific and artistic point of view, i cannot help thinking that we should be safer away from this island at present--at least while the volcano is active." the hermit smiled almost pitifully. "i do not apprehend danger," he said, "at least nothing unusual. but it happens that my business requires me to leave in the course of a few days at any rate, so, whether the eruption becomes fiercer or feebler, it will not matter to us. i have preparations to make, however, and i have no doubt you won't object to remain till all is ready for a start?" "oh, as to that," returned the youth, slightly hurt by the implied doubt as to his courage, "if _you_ are willing to risk going off the earth like a skyrocket, i am quite ready to take my chance of following you!" "an' moses am de man," said the negro, smiting his broad chest with his fist, "what's ready to serve as a rocket-stick to bof, an' go up along wid you!" the hermit made the nearest approach to a laugh which nigel had yet seen, as he left the cave to undertake some of the preparations above referred to. footnotes: [footnote : see _the eruption of krakatoa and subsequent phenomena_, p. . (trübner and co., london.)] chapter ix. describes, among other things, a singular meeting under peculiar circumstances. there is unquestionably a class of men--especially englishmen--who are deeply imbued with the idea that the universe in general, and our world in particular, has been created with a view to afford them what they call fun. "it would be great fun," said an english commercial man to a friend who sat beside him, "to go and have a look at this eruption. they say it is krakatoa which has broken out after a sleep of two centuries, and as it has been bursting away now for nearly a week, it is likely to hold on for some time longer. what would you say to charter a steamer and have a grand excursion to the volcano?" the friend said he thought it would indeed be "capital fun!" we have never been able to ascertain who these englishmen were, but they must have been men of influence, or able to move men of influence, for they at once set to work and organised an excursion. the place where this excursion was organised was batavia. although that city was situated in java, nearly a hundred miles distant from krakatoa, the inhabitants had not only heard distinctly the explosions of the volcano, but had felt some quakings of the earth and much rattling of doors and windows, besides a sprinkling of ashes, which indicated that the eruption, even in that eruptive region, was of unusual violence. they little imagined to what mighty throes the solid rocks of krakatoa were yet to be subjected before those volcanic fires could find a vent. meanwhile, as we have said, there was enough of the unusual in it to warrant our merchants in their anticipation of a considerable amount of fun. a steamer was got ready; a number of sightseeing enthusiasts were collected, and they set forth on the morning of the th of may. among these excursionists was our friend captain david roy--not that _he_ was addicted to running about in search of "fun," but, being unavoidably thrown idle at the time, and having a poetical turn of mind--derived from his wife--he thought he could not do better than take a run to the volcano and see how his son was getting along. the party reached the scene of the eruption on the morning of the th, having witnessed during the night several tolerably strong explosions, which were accompanied by earthquake shocks. it was found that krakatoa and all the adjoining islands were covered with a fine white dust, like snow, and that the trees on the northern part of the former island and varlaten had been to a great extent deprived of their leaves and branches by falling pumice, while those on lang island and polish hat, as well as those on the peak of rakata, had to a great extent escaped--no doubt owing to the prevailing direction of the wind. it was soon seen that perboewatan on krakatoa was the cone in active eruption, and the steamer made for its neighbourhood, landing her party within a short distance of its base. explosions were occurring at intervals of from five to ten minutes. each explosion being accompanied by an uncovering of the molten lava in the vent, the overhanging steam-cloud was lighted up with a grand glow for a few seconds. some of the party, who seemed to be authorities on such matters, estimated that the vapour-column rose to a height of nearly , feet, and that fragments of pumice were shot upwards to a height of feet. "that's a sign that the violence of the eruption is diminished," remarked the young merchant, who was in search of fun, as he prepared to wade ankle-deep in the loose pumice up the slopes of the cone. "diminished!" repeated our captain, who had fraternised much with this merchant during their short voyage. "if that's what you call diminishin', i shouldn't like to be here when it's increasin'." "pooh!" exclaimed the merchant, "that's nothing. i've seen, at other volcanoes, pieces of pumice blown up so high that they've been caught by the upper currents of the atmosphere and carried away in an opposite direction to the wind that was blowing below at the time. ay, i believe that dust is sometimes blown _miles_ up into the air." as captain roy thought that the merchant was drawing the long bow he made no reply, but changed the subject by asking what was the height of perboewatan. "three hundred feet or thereabouts," replied his friend. "i hope my son will have the sense to clear out of the island if things look like gittin' worse," muttered the captain, as an unusually violent explosion shook the whole side of the cone. "no fear of him," returned the merchant. "if he is visiting the hermit of rakata, as you tell me, he'll be safe enough. although something of a dare-devil, the hermit knows how to take care of himself. i'm afraid, however, that you'll not find it so easy to 'look up' your son as you seem to think. just glance round at these almost impenetrable forests. you don't know what part of the island he may be in just now; and you might as well look for a needle in a bundle of hay as look for him there. he is probably at the other end of krakatoa--four or five miles off--on the south side of rakata, where the hermit's cave is supposed to be, for no one seems to be quite sure as to its whereabouts. besides, you'll have to stick by the excursionists if you wish to return to batavia." captain roy paused for a moment to recover breath, and looking down upon the dense tropical forest that stretched between him and the peak of rakata, he shook his head, and admitted that the merchant was right. turning round he addressed himself once more to the ascent of the cone, on the sides of which the whole excursion party now straggled and struggled, remarking, as he panted along, that hill-climbing among ashes and cinders didn't "come easy to a sea-farin' man." now, nothing was more natural than that van der kemp and his guest should be smitten with the same sort of desire which had brought these excursionists from batavia. the only thing that we do not pretend to account for is the strange coincidence that they should have been so smitten, and had so arranged their plans, that they arrived at perboewatan almost at the same time with the excursionists--only about half an hour before them! their preliminary walk, however, through the tangled, almost impassable, forest had been very slow and toilsome, and having been involved in its shadow from daybreak, they were, of course, quite unaware of the approach of the steamer or the landing of the excursion party. "if the volcano seems quieting down," said nigel to his host, "shall you start to-morrow?" "yes; by daybreak. even if the eruption does _not_ quiet down i must set out, for my business presses." nigel felt much inclined to ask what his business was, but there was a quiet something in the air of the hermit, when he did not choose to be questioned, which effectually silenced curiosity. falling behind a little, till the negro came up with him, nigel tried to obtain information from him, for he felt that he had a sort of right to know at least something about the expedition in which he was about to act a part. "do you know, moses, what business your master is going about?" he asked, in a low voice. "no more nor de man ob de moon, massa nadgel," said moses, with an air at once so truthful and so solemn that the young man gave it up with a laugh of resignation. on arriving at perboewatan, and ascending its sides, they at last became aware of the approach of the excursion steamer. "strange," muttered the hermit, "vessels don't often touch here." "perhaps they have run short of water," suggested nigel. "even if they had it would not be worth their while to stop here for that," returned the hermit, resuming the ascent of the cone after an intervening clump of trees had shut out the steamer from view. it was with feelings of profound interest and considerable excitement that our hero stood for the first time on the top of a volcanic cone and gazed down into its glowing vent. the crater might be described as a huge basin of feet in diameter. from the rim of this basin on which the visitors stood the sides sloped so gradually inward that the flat floor at the bottom was not more than half that diameter. this floor--which was about feet below the upper edge--was covered with a black crust, and in the centre of it was the tremendous cavity--between one and two hundred feet in diameter--from which issued the great steam-cloud. the cloud was mixed with quantities of pumice and fragments of what appeared to be black glass. the roar of this huge vent was deafening and stupendous. if the reader will reflect on the wonderful hubbub that can be created even by a kitchen kettle when superheated, and on the exasperating shrieks of a steamboat's safety-valve in action, or the bellowing of a fog-horn, he may form some idea of the extent of his incapacity to conceive the thunderous roar of krakatoa when it began to boil over. when to this awful sound there were added the intermittent explosions, the horrid crackling of millions of rock-masses meeting in the air, and the bubbling up of molten lava--verily it did not require the imagination of a dante to see in all this the very vomiting of gehenna! so amazed and well-nigh stunned was nigel at the sights and sounds that he neither heard nor saw the arrival of the excursionists, until the equally awe-stricken moses touched him on the elbow and drew his attention to several men who suddenly appeared on the crater-brim not fifty yards off, but who, like themselves, were too much absorbed with the volcano itself to observe the other visitors. probably they took them for some of their own party who had reached the summit before them. nigel was yet looking at these visitors in some surprise, when an elderly nautical man suddenly stood not twenty yards off gazing in open-mouthed amazement, past our hero's very nose, at the volcanic fires. "hallo, father!" shouted the one. "zounds! nigel!" exclaimed the other. both men glared and were speechless for several seconds. then nigel rushed at the captain, and the captain met him half-way, and they shook hands with such hearty goodwill as to arrest in his operations for a few moments a photographer who was hastily setting up his camera! yes, science has done much to reveal the marvellous and arouse exalted thoughts in the human mind, but it has also done something to crush enthusiasts and shock the romantic. veracity constrains us to state that there he was, with his tripod, and his eager haste, and his hideous black cloth, preparing to "take" perboewatan on a "dry plate"! and he "took" it too! and you may see it, if you will, as a marvellous frontispiece to the volume by the "krakatoa committee"--a work which is apparently as exhaustive of the subject of krakatoa as was the great explosion itself of those internal fires which will probably keep that volcano quiet for the next two hundred years. but this was not the great eruption of krakatoa--only a rehearsal, as it were. "what brought you here, my son?" asked the captain, on recovering speech. "my legs, father." "don't be insolent, boy." "it's not insolence, father. it's only poetical licence, meant to assure you that i did not come by 'bus or rail though you did by steamer! but let me introduce you to my friend, mr.----" he stopped short on looking round, for van der kemp was not there. "he goed away wheneber he saw de peepil comin' up de hill," said moses, who had watched the meeting of father and son with huge delight. "but you kin interdooce _me_ instead," he added, with a crater-like smile. "true, true," exclaimed nigel, laughing. "this is moses, father, my host's servant, and my very good friend, and a remarkably free-and-easy friend, as you see. he will guide us back to the cave, since van der kemp seems to have left us." "who's van der kemp?" asked the captain. "the hermit of rakata, father--that's his name. his father was a dutchman and his mother an english or irish woman--i forget which. he's a splendid fellow; quite different from what one would expect; no more like a hermit than a hermit-crab, except that he lives in a cave under the peak of rakata, at the other end of the island. but you must come with us and pay him a visit. he will be delighted to see you." "what! steer through a green sea of leaves like that?" said the captain, stretching his arm towards the vast forest that lay stretched out below them, "and on my legs, too, that have been used all their lives to a ship's deck? no, my son. i will content myself with this lucky meetin'. but, i say, nigel, lad," continued the old man, somewhat more seriously, "what if the peak o' ra--ra, what's-'is-name, should take to spoutin' like this one, an' you, as you say, livin' under it?" "ha! das 'zackly what _i_ say," interposed moses. "das what i oftin says to massa, but he nebber answers. he only smile. massa's not always so purlite as he might be!" "there is no fear," said nigel, "not at present, anyhow, for van der kemp says that the force of this eruption is diminishing--" "it don't look much like it," muttered the captain, as the volcano at that moment gave vent to a burst which seemed like a sarcastic laugh at the hermit's opinion, and sent the more timid of the excursionists sprawling down the cinder-slope in great alarm. "there's reason in what you say, father," said nigel, when the diminution of noise rendered speech more easy; "and after all, as we start off on our travels to-morrow, your visit could not have been a long one." "where do you go first?" asked the captain. "not sure. do _you_ know, moses?" "no; no more 'n de man ob de moon. p'r'aps borneo. he go dar sometimes." at this point another roar from the volcano, and a shout from the leader of the excursionists to return on board, broke up the conference. "well, lad, i'm glad i've seen you. don't forget to write your whereabouts. they say there's a lot o' wild places as well as wild men and beasts among them islands, so keep your weather-eye open an' your powder dry. good-bye, nigel. take care of him, moses, and keep him out o' mischief if ye can--which is more than ever i could. good-bye, my boy." "good-bye, father." they shook hands vigorously. in another minute the old seaman was sailing down the cinder-cone at the rate of fourteen knots an hour, while his son, setting off under the guidance of moses towards a different point of the compass, was soon pushing his way through the tangled forest in the direction of the hermit's cave. chapter x. a curious sea-going craft--the unknown voyage begun. it was early next morning when van der kemp and his man left their couches and descended to the shore, leaving their visitor enjoying the benefit of that profound slumber which bids defiance to turmoil and noise, however stupendous, and which seems to be the peculiar privilege of healthy infants and youthful seamen. perboewatan had subsided considerably towards morning, and had taken to that internal rumbling, which in the feline species indicates mitigated indignation. the hermit had therefore come to the conclusion that the outburst was over, and went with moses to make arrangements for setting forth on his expedition after breakfast. they had scarcely left the cave when nigel awoke. feeling indisposed for further repose, he got up and went out in that vague state of mind which is usually defined as "having a look at the weather." whether or not he gathered much information from the look we cannot tell, but, taking up his short gun, which stood handy at the entrance of the cave, he sauntered down the path which his host had followed a short time before. arrived at the shore, he observed that a branch path diverged to the left, and appeared to run in the direction of a high precipice. he turned into it, and after proceeding through the bushes for a short way he came quite unexpectedly on a cavern, the mouth of which resembled, but was much higher and wider than that which led to the hermit's home. just as he approached it there issued from its gloomy depths a strange rumbling sound which induced him to stop and cock his gun. a curious feeling of serio-comic awe crept over him as the idea of a fiery dragon leaped into his mind! at the same time, the fancy that the immense abyss of darkness might be one of the volcanic vents diminished the comic and increased the serious feeling. ere long the sound assumed the definite tone of footsteps, and the dragon fancy seemed about to become a reality when he beheld a long narrow thing of uncertain form emerging from the darkness. "it must be coming out tail-foremost!" he muttered, with a short laugh at his semi-credulity. another instant and the hermit emerged into the blazing sunshine, and stood pictured against the intense darkness like a being of supernatural radiance, with the end of a long narrow canoe on his shoulder. as nigel passed round a bush to reach him he perceived the dark form of moses emerging from the depths and supporting the body of the canoe. "i see you are active and an early riser," said the hermit, with a nod of approval on seeing our hero. "i almost took you for a krakatoa monster!" said nigel, as they came out in front of the cavern and laid the canoe on the ground. "why, you've got here one of the craft which we in england call a rob roy canoe!" "it is fashioned on the same pattern," said the hermit, "but with one or two alterations of my own devising, and an improvement--as i think--founded on what i have myself seen, when travelling with the eskimos of greenland." van der kemp here pointed out that the canoe was not only somewhat broader than the kind used in england, but was considerably longer, and with three openings or manholes in the deck, so that it was capable of holding three persons. also, that there was a large rounded mass of wood fixed in front of the three manholes. "these saddles, as i call them," said the hermit, "have been suggested to me by the eskimos, who, instead of wearying their arms by supporting the double-bladed paddle continuously, rest it on the saddle and let it slide about thereon while being used. thus they are able to carry a much longer and heavier paddle than that used in the rob roy canoe, the weight of which, as it rests on the saddle, is not felt. moreover it does not require nearly so much dip to put it in the water. i have heard of a sort of upright with a universal joint being applied to the english canoe, but it seems to me a much more clumsy and much less effective, because rigid, contrivance than the eskimo saddle. inside, under the deck, as i will show you by and by, i have lighter and shorter paddles for use when in narrow rivers, but i prefer the long heavy paddle when traversing great stretches of ocean." "you don't mean to say you ever go to sea in an eggshell like that!" exclaimed nigel in surprise. "indeed we do," returned the hermit, "and we are fitted out for longish voyages and rough weather. besides, it is not so much of an eggshell as you suppose. i made it myself, and took care that it should be fit for the work required of it. the wood of which it is made, although light, is very tough, and it is lined with a skin of strong canvas which is fixed to the planks with tar. this makes the craft watertight as well as strong. the ribs also are very light and close together, and every sixth rib is larger and stronger than the others and made of tougher wood. all these ribs are bound together by longitudinal pieces, or laths, of very tough wood, yet so thin that the whole machine is elastic without being weak. besides this, there are two strong oiled-canvas partitions, which divide the canoe into three water-tight compartments, any two of which will float it if the third should get filled." "is this then the craft in which you intend to voyage?" asked nigel. "it is. we shall start in an hour or two. i keep it in this cave because it is near the landing-place. but come, you will understand things better when you see us making our arrangements. of course you understand how to manage sails of every kind?" "if i did not it would ill become me to call myself a sailor," returned our hero. "that is well, because you will sit in the middle, from which position the sail is partly managed. i usually sit in the bow to have free range for the use of my gun, if need be, and moses steers." van der kemp proceeded down the track as he said this, having, with the negro, again lifted the canoe on his shoulder. a few minutes' walk brought them to the beach at the spot where nigel had originally landed. here a quantity of cargo lay on the rocks ready to be placed in the canoe. there were several small bags of pemmican, which van der kemp had learned to make while travelling on the prairies of north america among the red indians,--for this singular being seemed to have visited most parts of the habitable globe during his not yet very long life. there were five small casks of fresh water, two or three canisters of gunpowder, a small box of tea and another of sugar, besides several bags of biscuits. there were also other bags and boxes which did not by their appearance reveal their contents, and all the articles were of a shape and size which seemed most suitable for passing through the manholes, and being conveniently distributed and stowed in the three compartments of the canoe. there was not very much of anything, however, so that when the canoe was laden and ready for its voyage, the hermit and his man were still able to raise and carry it on their shoulders without the assistance of nigel. there was one passenger whom we have not yet mentioned, namely, a small monkey which dwelt in the cave with the canoe, and which, although perfectly free to come and go when he pleased, seldom left the cave except for food, but seemed to have constituted himself the guardian of the little craft. spinkie, as moses had named him, was an intensely affectionate creature, with a countenance of pathetic melancholy which utterly belied his character, for mischief and fun were the dominating qualities of that monkey. he was seated on a water-cask when nigel first caught sight of him, holding the end of his long tail in one hand, and apparently wiping his nose with it. "is that what he is doing?" asked nigel of the negro. "oh no, massa nadgel," said moses. "spinkie nebber ketch cold an' hab no need ob a pocket-hangkitcher. he only tickles his nose wid 'is tail. but he's bery fond ob doin' dat." being extremely fond of monkeys, nigel went forward to fondle him, and spinkie being equally fond of fondling, resigned himself placidly--after one interrogative gaze of wide-eyed suspicion--into the stranger's hands. a lifelong friendship was cemented then and there. after stowing the cargo the party returned to the upper cavern, leaving the monkey to guard the canoe. "an' he's a good defender ob it," said moses, "for if man or beast happen to come near it when spinkie's in charge, dat monkey sets up a skriekin' fit to cause a 'splosion ob perboewatan!" breakfast over, the hermit put his cave in order for a pretty long absence, and they again descended to the shore, each man carrying his bed on his shoulder. each bed, however, was light and simple. it consisted merely of one blanket wrapped up in an oil-cloth sheet. besides, an old-fashioned powder-flask and shot belt. van der kemp and nigel had slung a bullet-pouch on their shoulders, and carried small hatchets and hunting-knives in their belts. moses was similarly armed, with this difference, that his _couteau de chasse_ bore stronger resemblance to an ancient roman sword than a knife, and his axe was of larger size than the hatchets of his companions. launching the canoe, the hermit and his man held it fast at either end while nigel was directed to take his place in the central of the three openings or manholes. he did so and found himself seated on a flat board on the bottom of the canoe, which was so shallow that the deck scarcely rose as high as his waist. round the manhole there was a ledge of thin wood, about three inches high, to which a circular apron of oiled canvas was attached. "yes, you'd better understand that thing before we start," said van der kemp, observing that nigel was examining the contrivance with some curiosity. "it's an apron to tie round you in bad weather to keep the water out. in fine weather it is rolled as you see it now round the ledge. undo the buckle before and behind and you will see how it is to be used." acting as directed, nigel unbuckled the roll and found that he was surrounded by a sort of petticoat of oil-skin which could be drawn up and buckled round his chest. in this position it could be kept by a loop attached to a button, or a wooden pin, thrust through the coat. "you see," explained the hermit, "the waves may wash all over our deck and round our bodies without being able to get into the canoe while we have these things on--there are similar protections round the other holes." "i understand," said nigel. "but how if water gets in through a leak below?" "do you see that brass thing in front of you?" returned the hermit. "that is a pump which is capable of keeping under a pretty extensive leak. the handle unships, so as to be out of the way when not wanted. i keep it here, under the deck in front of me, along with mast and sails and a good many other things." as he spoke he raised a plank of the deck in front of the foremost hole, and disclosed a sort of narrow box about six feet long by six inches broad. the plank was hinged at one end and fastened with a hook at the other so as to form a lid to the box. the hole thus disclosed was not an opening into the interior of the canoe, but was a veritable watertight box just under the deck, so that even if it were to get filled with water not a drop could enter the canoe itself. but the plank-lid was so beautifully fitted, besides shutting tightly down on indiarubber, that the chance of leakage through that source was very remote. although very narrow, this box was deep, and contained a variety of useful implements; among them a slender mast and tiny sail, which could be rendered still smaller by means of reef points. all these things were fitted into their respective places with so keen an eye to economy of space that the arrangement cannot be better described than by the familiar phrase--_multum, in parvo._ "we don't use the sails much; we depend chiefly on this," said the hermit, as he seated himself in the front hole and laid the long, heavy, double-bladed paddle on the saddle in front of him. moses uses a single blade, partly because it is handier for steering and partly because he has been accustomed to it in his own land. you are at liberty to use which you prefer." "thanks, i will follow the lead of moses, for i also have been accustomed to the single blade and prefer it--at least while i am one of three. if alone, i should prefer the double blade." "now, moses, are you ready?" asked the hermit. "all ready, massa." "get in then and shove off. come along, spinkie." the monkey, which all this time had been seated on a rock looking on with an expression of inconsolable sorrow, at once accepted the invitation, and with a lively bound alighted on the deck close to the little mast, which had been set up just in front of nigel, and to which it held on when the motions of the canoe became unsteady. "you need not give yourself any concern about spinkie," said the hermit, as they glided over the still water of the little cove in which the canoe and boat were harboured. "he is quite able to take care of himself." bounding the entrance to the cove and shooting out into the ocean under the influence of van der kemp's powerful strokes, they were soon clear of the land, and proceeded eastward at a rate which seemed unaccountable to our hero, for he had not sufficiently realised the fact that in addition to the unusual physical strength of van der kemp as well as that of moses, to say nothing of his own, the beautiful fish-like adaptation of the canoe to the water, the great length and leverage of the bow paddle, and the weight of themselves as well as the cargo, gave this canoe considerable advantage over other craft of the kind. about a quarter of an hour later the sun arose in cloudless splendour on a perfectly tranquil sea, lighted up the shores of java, glinted over the mountains of sumatra, and flooded, as with a golden haze, the forests of krakatoa--emulating the volcanic fires in gilding the volumes of smoke that could be seen rolling amid fitful mutterings from perboewatan, until the hermit's home sank from view in the western horizon. chapter xi. canoeing on the sea--a mysterious night-surprise and sudden flight. at first the voyagers paddled over the glassy sea in almost total silence. nigel was occupied with his own busy thoughts; speculating on the probable end and object of their voyage, and on the character, the mysterious life, and unknown history of the man who sat in front of him wielding so powerfully the great double-bladed paddle. van der kemp himself was, as we have said, naturally quiet and silent, save when roused by a subject that interested him. as for moses, although quite ready at any moment to indulge in friendly intercourse, he seldom initiated a conversation, and spinkie, grasping the mast and leaning against it with his head down, seemed to be either asleep or brooding over his sorrows. only a few words were uttered now and then when nigel asked the name of a point or peak which rose in the distance on either hand. it seemed as if the quiescence of sea and air had fallen like a soft mantle on the party and subdued them into an unusually sluggish frame of mind. they passed through the sunda straits between sumatra and java--not more at the narrowest part than about thirteen miles wide--and, in course of time, found themselves in the great island-studded archipelago beyond. about noon they all seemed to wake up from their lethargic state. van der kemp laid down his paddle, and, looking round, asked nigel if he felt tired. "not in the least," he replied, "but i feel uncommonly hungry, and i have just been wondering how you manage to feed when at sea in so small a craft." "ho! ho!" laughed moses, in guttural tones, "you soon see dat--i 'spose it time for me to get out de grub, massa?" "yes, moses--let's have it." the negro at once laid down his steering paddle and lifted a small square hatch or lid in the deck which was rendered watertight by the same means as the lid in front already described. from the depths thus revealed he extracted a bird of some sort that had been shot and baked the day before. tearing off a leg he retained it and handed the remainder to nigel. "help you'self, massa nadgel, an' pass 'im forid." without helping himself he passed it on to van der kemp, who drew his knife, sliced off a wing with a mass of breast, and returned the rest. "always help yourself _before_ passing the food in future," said the hermit; "we don't stand on ceremony here." nigel at once fell in with their custom, tore off the remaining drumstick and began. "biskit," said moses, with his mouth full, "an' look out for spinkie." he handed forward a deep tray of the sailor's familiar food, but nigel was too slow to profit by the warning given, for spinkie darted both hands into the tray and had stuffed his mouth and cheeks full almost before a man could wink! the negro would have laughed aloud, but the danger of choking was too great; he therefore laughed internally--an operation which could not be fully understood unless seen. "'splosions of perboewatan," may suggest the thing. sorrow, grief--whatever it was that habitually afflicted that monkey--disappeared for the time being, while it devoted itself heart and soul to dinner. feelings of a somewhat similar kind animated nigel as he sat leaning back with his mouth full, a biscuit in one hand, and a drumstick in the other, and his eyes resting dreamily on the horizon of the still tranquil sea, while the bright sun blazed upon his already bronzed face. to many men the fierce glare of the equatorial sun might have proved trying, but nigel belonged to the salamander type of humanity and enjoyed the great heat. van der kemp seemed to be similarly moulded, and as for moses, he was in his native element--so was spinkie. strange as it may seem, sea-birds appeared to divine what was going on, for several specimens came circling round the canoe with great outstretched and all but motionless wings, and with solemn sidelong glances of hope which van der kemp evidently could not resist, for he flung them scraps of his allowance from time to time. "if you have plenty of provisions on board, i should like to do that too," said nigel. "do it," returned the hermit. "we have plenty of food for some days, and our guns can at any time replenish the store. i like to feed these creatures," he added, "they give themselves over so thoroughly to the enjoyment of the moment, and _seem_ to be grateful. whether they are so or not, of course, is matter of dispute. cynics will tell us that they only come to us and fawn upon us because of the memory of past favours and the hope of more to come. i don't agree with them." "neither do i," said nigel, warmly. "any man who has ever had to do with dogs knows full well that gratitude is a strong element of their nature. and it seems to me that the speaking eyes of spinkie, to whom i have just given a bit of biscuit, tell of a similar spirit." as he spoke, nigel was conveying another piece of biscuit to his own mouth, when a small brown hand flashed before him, and the morsel, in the twinkling of an eye, was transferred to the monkey's already swollen cheek--whereat moses again became suddenly "'splosive" and red, as well as black in the face, for his capacious mouth was inordinately full as usual. clear water, from one of the casks, and poured into a tin mug, washed down their cold collation, and then, refreshed and reinvigorated, the trio resumed their paddles, which were not again laid down till the sun was descending towards the western horizon. by that time they were not far from a small wooded islet near the coast of java, on which van der kemp resolved to spend the night. during the day they had passed at some distance many boats and _praus_ and other native vessels, the crews of which ceased to row for a few moments, and gazed with curiosity at the strange craft which glided along so swiftly, and seemed to them little more than a long plank on the water, but these took no further notice of our voyagers. they also passed several ships--part of that constant stream of vessels which pass westward through those straits laden with the valuable teas and rich silks of china and japan. in some cases a cheer of recognition, as being an exceptional style of craft, was accorded them, to which the hermit replied with a wave of the hand--moses and nigel with an answering cheer. there is something very pleasant in the rest which follows a day of hard and healthful toil. our maker has so ordained it as well as stated it, for is it not written, "the sleep of the labouring man is sweet"? and our travellers experienced the truth of the statement that night in very romantic circumstances. the small rocky islet, not more than a few hundred yards in diameter, which they now approached had several sheltered sandy bays on its shore, which were convenient for landing. the centre was clothed with palm-trees and underwood, so that fuel could be procured, and cocoa-nuts. "sometimes," said the hermit, while he stooped to arrange the fire, after the canoe and cargo had been carried to their camping-place at the edge of the bushes,--"sometimes it is necessary to keep concealed while travelling in these regions, and i carry a little spirit-lamp which enables me to heat a cup of tea or coffee without making a dangerous blaze; but here there is little risk in kindling a fire." "i should not have thought there was any risk at all in these peaceful times," said nigel, as he unstrapped his blanket and spread it on the ground under an overhanging bush. "there are no peaceful times among pirates," returned the hermit; "and some of the traders in this archipelago are little better than pirates." "where i puts your bed, massa?" asked moses, turning his huge eyes on his master. "there--under the bush, beside nigel." "an' where would _you_ like to sleep, massa spinkie?" added the negro, with a low obeisance to the monkey, which sat on the top of what seemed to be its favourite seat--a watercask. spinkie treated the question with calm contempt, turned his head languidly to one side, and scratched himself. "unpurliteness is your k'racter from skin to marrow, you son of a insolent mother!" said moses, shaking his fist, whereat spinkie, promptly making an o of his mouth, looked fierce. the sagacious creature remained where he was till after supper, which consisted of another roast fowl--hot this time--and ship's-biscuit washed down with coffee. of course spinkie's portion consisted only of the biscuit with a few scraps of cocoa-nut. having received it he quietly retired to his native wilds, with the intention of sleeping there, according to custom, till morning; but his repose was destined to be broken, as we shall see. after supper, the hermit, stretching himself on his blanket, filled an enormous meerschaum, and began to smoke. the negro, rolling up a little tobacco in tissue paper, sat down, tailor-wise, and followed his master's example, while our hero--who did not smoke--lay between them, and gazed contemplatively over the fire at the calm dark sea beyond, enjoying the aroma of his coffee. "from what you have told me of your former trading expeditions," said nigel, looking at his friend, "you must have seen a good deal of this archipelago before you took--excuse me--to the hermit life." "ay--a good deal." "have you ever travelled in the interior of the larger islands?" asked nigel, in the hope of drawing from him some account of his experiences with wild beasts or wild men--he did not care which, so long as they were wild! "yes, in all of them," returned the hermit, curtly, for he was not fond of talking about himself. "i suppose the larger islands are densely wooded?" continued nigel interrogatively. "they are, very." "but the wood is not of much value, i fancy, in the way of trade," pursued our hero, adopting another line of attack which proved successful, for van der kemp turned his eyes on him with a look of surprise that almost forced him to laugh. "not of much value in the way of trade!" he repeated--"forgive me, if i express surprise that you seem to know so little about us--but, after all, the world is large, and one cannot become deeply versed in everything." having uttered this truism, the hermit resumed his meerschaum and continued to gaze thoughtfully at the embers of the fire. he remained so long silent that nigel began to despair, but thought he would try him once again on the same lines. "i suppose," he said in a careless way, "that none of the islands are big enough to contain many of the larger wild animals." "my friend," returned van der kemp, with a smile of urbanity, as he refilled his pipe, "it is evident that you do not know much about our archipelago. borneo, to the woods and wild animals of which i hope ere long to introduce you, is so large that if you were to put your british islands, including ireland, down on it they would be engulphed and surrounded by a sea of forests. new guinea is, perhaps, larger than borneo. sumatra is only a little smaller. france is not so large as some of our islands. java, luzon, and celebes are each about equal in size to ireland. eighteen more islands are, on the average, as large as jamaica, more than a hundred are as large as the isle of wight, and the smaller isles and islets are innumerable. in short, our archipelago is comparable with any of the primary divisions of the globe, being full miles in length from east to west and about , in breadth from north to south, and would in extent more than cover the whole of europe." it was evident to nigel that he had at length succeeded in opening the floodgates. the hermit paused for a few moments and puffed at the meerschaum, while moses glared at his master with absorbed interest, and pulled at the cigarette with such oblivious vigour that he drew it into his mouth at last, spat it out, and prepared another. nigel sat quite silent and waited for more. "as to trade," continued van der kemp, resuming his discourse in a lower tone, "why, of gold--the great representative of wealth--we export from sumatra alone over , ounces annually, and among other gold regions we have a mount ophir in the malay peninsula from which there is a considerable annual export." continuing his discourse, van der kemp told a great deal more about the products of these prolific islands with considerable enthusiasm--as one who somewhat resented the underrating of his native land. "were you born in this region, van der kemp?" asked nigel, during a brief pause. "i was--in java. my father, as my name tells, was of dutch descent. my mother was irish. both are dead." he stopped. the fire that had been aroused seemed to die down, and he continued to smoke with the sad absent look which was peculiar to him. "and what about large game?" asked nigel, anxious to stir up his friend's enthusiasm again, but the hermit had sunk back into his usual condition of gentle dreaminess, and made no answer till the question had been repeated. "pardon me," he said, "i was dreaming of the days that are gone. ah! nigel; you are yet too young to understand the feelings of the old--the sad memories of happy years that can never return: of voices that are hushed for ever. no one can _know_ till he has _felt_!" "but you are not old," said nigel, wishing to turn the hermit's mind from a subject on which it seemed to dwell too constantly. "not in years," he returned; "but old, _very_ old in experience, and--stay, what was it that you were asking about? ah, the big game. well, we have plenty of that in some of the larger of the islands; we have the elephant, the rhinoceros, the tiger, the puma, that great man-monkey the orang-utan, or, as it is called here, the mias, besides wild pigs, deer, and innumerable smaller animals and birds--" the hermit stopped abruptly and sat motionless, with his head bent on one side, like one who listens intently. such an action is always infectious. nigel and the negro also listened, but heard nothing. by that time the fire had died down, and, not being required for warmth, had not been replenished. the faint light of the coming moon, which, however, was not yet above the horizon, only seemed to render darkness visible, so that the figure of moses was quite lost in the shadow of the bush behind him, though the whites of his solemn eyes appeared like two glow-worms. "do you hear anything?" asked nigel in a low tone. "oars," answered the hermit. "i hear 'im, massa," whispered the negro, "but das not su'prisin'--plenty boats about." "this boat approaches the island, and i can tell by the sound that it is a large _prau_. if it touches here it will be for the purpose of spending the night, and malay boatmen are not always agreeable neighbours. however, it is not likely they will ramble far from where they land, so we may escape observation if we keep quiet." as he spoke he emptied the remains of the coffee on the dying fire and effectually put it out. meanwhile the sound of oars had become quite distinct, and, as had been anticipated, the crew ran their boat into one of the sandy bays and leaped ashore with a good deal of shouting and noise. fortunately they had landed on the opposite side of the islet, and as the bush on it was very dense there was not much probability of any one crossing over. our voyagers therefore lay close, resolving to be off in the morning before the unwelcome visitors were stirring. as the three lay there wrapped in their blankets and gazing contemplatively at the now risen moon, voices were heard as if of men approaching. it was soon found that two of the strangers had sauntered round by the beach and were slowly drawing near the encampment. nigel observed that the hermit had raised himself on one elbow and seemed to be again listening intently. the two men halted on reaching the top of the ridges of rock which formed one side of the little bay, and their voices became audible though too far distant to admit of words being distinguishable. at the same time their forms were clearly defined against the sky. nigel glanced at van der kemp and was startled by the change that had come over him. the moonbeams, which had by that time risen above some intervening shrubs, shone full on him and showed that his usually quiet gentle countenance was deadly pale and transformed by a frown of almost tiger-like ferocity. so strange and unaccountable did this seem to our hero that he lay quite still, as if spell-bound. nor did his companions move until the strangers, having finished their talk, turned to retrace their steps and finally disappeared. then van der kemp rose with a sigh of relief. the negro and nigel also sprang up. "what's wrong, massa?" asked moses, in much anxiety. "nothing, nothing," said the hermit hurriedly. "i must cross over to see these fellows." "all right, massa. i go wid you." "no, i go alone." "not widout arms?" exclaimed the negro, laying his hand on his master's shoulder. "yes, without arms!" as he spoke he drew the long knife that usually hung at his girdle and flung it down. "now attend, both of you," he added, with sudden and almost threatening earnestness. "do not on any account follow me. i am quite able to take care of myself." next moment he glided into the bushes and was gone. "can you guess what is the matter with him?" asked nigel, turning to his companion with a perplexed look. "not more nor de man ob de moon. i nebber saw'd 'im like dat before. i t'ink he's go mad! i tell you what--i'll foller him wid a rifle an' knife and two revolvers." "you'll do nothing of the sort," said nigel, laying hold of the negro's wrist with a grip of iron; "when a man like van der kemp gives an order it's the duty of inferior men like you and me strictly to obey." "well--p'raps you're right, nadgel," returned moses calmly. "if you wasn't, i'd knock you into de middle ob nixt week for takin' a grip o' me like dat." "you'll wish yourself into the middle of next fortnight if you disobey orders," returned our hero, tightening the grip. moses threw back his head, opened his cavern, and laughed silently; at the same time he twisted his arm free with a sudden wrench. "you's awrful strong, nadgel, but you don't quite come up to niggers! howse'ber, you's right. i'll obey orders; neberdeless i'll get ready for action." so saying, the negro extracted from the canoe several revolvers, two of which he handed to nigel, two he thrust into his own belt, and two he laid handy for "massa" when he should return. "now, if you're smart at arit'metic, you'll see dat six time six am t'irty-six, and two double guns das forty--forty dead men's more 'n enuff--besides de knives." moses had barely finished these deadly preparations when van der kemp returned as quietly as he had gone. his face was still fierce and haggard, and his manner hurried though quite decided. "i have seen him," he said, in a low voice. "seen who?" asked nigel. "him whom i had hoped and prayed never more to see. my enemy! come, quick, we must leave at once, and without attracting their notice." he gave his comrades no time to put further questions, but laid hold of one end of the canoe; moses took the other end and it was launched in a few seconds, while nigel carried down such part of the lading as had been taken out. five minutes sufficed to put all on board, and that space of time was also sufficient to enable spinkie to observe from his retreat in the bushes that a departure was about to take place; he therefore made for the shore with all speed and bounded to his accustomed place beside the mast. taking their places they pushed off so softly that they might well have been taken for phantoms. a cloud conveniently hid the moon at the time. each man plied his paddle with noiseless but powerful stroke, and long before the cloud uncovered the face of the queen of night they were shooting far away over the tranquil sea. chapter xii. weathering a storm in the open sea. in profound silence they continued to paddle until there was no chance of their being seen by the party on the islet. then van der kemp rested his paddle in front of him and looked slowly round the horizon and up at the sky as if studying the weather. nigel longed to ask him more about the men they had seen, and of this "enemy" whom he had mentioned, but there was that in the hermit's grave look which forbade questioning, and indeed nigel now knew from experience that it would be useless to press him to speak on any subject in regard to which he chose to be reticent. "i don't like the look of the sky," he said at last. "we are going to have a squall, i fear." "had we not better run for the nearest land?" said nigel, who, although not yet experienced in the signs of the weather in those equatorial regions, had quite enough of knowledge to perceive that bad weather of some sort was probably approaching. "the nearest island is a good way off," returned the hermit, "and we might miss it in the dark, for daylight won't help us yet awhile. no, we will continue our course and accept what god sends." this remark seemed to our hero to savour of unreasoning contempt of danger, for the facing of a tropical squall in such an eggshell appeared to him the height of folly. he ventured to reply, therefore, in a tone of remonstrance-- "god sends us the capacity to appreciate danger, van der kemp, and the power to take precautions." "he does, nigel--therefore i intend to use both the capacity and the power." there was a tone of finality in this speech which effectually sealed nigel's lips, and, in truth, his ever-increasing trust in the wisdom, power, and resource of his friend indisposed him to further remark. the night had by this time become intensely dark, for a bank of black cloud had crept slowly over the sky and blotted out the moon. this cloud extended itself slowly, obliterating, ere long, most of the stars also, so that it was scarcely possible to distinguish any object more than a yard or two in advance of them. the dead calm, however, continued unbroken, and the few of heaven's lights which still glimmered through the obscurity above were clearly reflected in the great black mirror below. only the faint gleam of krakatoa's threatening fires was visible on the horizon, while the occasional boom of its artillery sounded in their ears. it was impossible for any inexperienced man, however courageous, to avoid feelings of awe, almost amounting to dread, in the circumstances, and nigel--as he tried to penetrate the darkness around him and glanced at the narrow craft in which he sat and over the sides of which he could dip both hands at once into the sea--might be excused for wishing, with all his heart, that he were safely on shore, or on the deck of his father's brig. his feelings were by no means relieved when van der kemp said, in a low soliloquising tone-- "the steamers will constitute our chief danger to-night. they come on with such a rush that it is not easy to make out how they are steering, so as to get out of their way in time." "but should we not hear them coming a long way off?" asked nigel. "ay. it is not during a calm like this that we run risk, but when the gale begins to blow we cannot hear, and shall not, perhaps, see very well." as he spoke the hermit lifted the covering of the forehatch and took out a small sail which he asked nigel to pass aft to the negro. "close-reef it, moses; we shall make use of the wind as long as possible. after that we will lay-to." "all right, massa," said the negro, in the same cheerful free-and-easy tone in which he was wont to express his willingness to obey orders whether trifling or important. "don' forgit spinkie, massa." "you may be sure i won't do that," replied the hermit. "come along, monkey!" evidently van der kemp had trained his dumb companion as thoroughly to prompt obedience as his black follower, for the little creature instantly bounded from its place by the mast on to the shoulder of its master, who bade it go into the place from which he had just extracted the sail. nigel could not see this--not only because of the darkness, but because of the intervention of the hermit's bulky person, but he understood what had taken place by the remark--"that's a good little fellow. keep your head down, now, while i shut you in!" from the same place van der kemp had drawn a small triangular foresail, which he proceeded to attach to the bow of the canoe--running its point out by means of tackle laid along the deck--while moses was busy reefing the mainsail. from the same repository were extracted three waterproof coats, which, when put on by the canoe-men, the tails thrust below-deck, and the aprons drawn over them and belted round their waists, protected their persons almost completely from water. "now, nigel," said the hermit, "unship the mast, reeve the halyard of this foresail through the top and then re-ship it. moses will give you the mainsail when ready, and you can hook the halyards on to it. the thing is too simple to require explanation to a sailor. i attend to the foresail and moses manages the mainsheet, but you have to mind the halyards of both, which, as you would see if it were light enough, run down alongside the mast. all i ask you to remember is to be smart in obeying orders, for squalls are sometimes very sudden here--but i doubt not that such a caution is needless." "i'll do my best," said nigel. by this time a slight puff of air had ruffled the sea, thereby intensifying, if possible, the blackness which already prevailed. the tiny sails caught the puff, causing the canoe to lean slightly over, and glide with a rippling sound through the water, while moses steered by means of his paddle. "you have put spinkie down below, i think," said nigel, who had been struck more than once with the hermit's extreme tenderness and care of the little creature. "yes, to prevent it from being washed overboard. i nearly lost the poor little thing once or twice, and now when we are likely to be caught in bad weather i put him below." "is he not apt to be suffocated?" asked nigel. "with everything made so tight to prevent water getting into the canoe, you necessarily prevent air entering also." "i see you have a mechanical turn of mind," returned the hermit. "you are right. yet in so large a canoe the air would last a considerable time to satisfy a monkey. nevertheless, i have made provision for that. there is a short tube alongside the mast, and fixed to it, which runs a little below the deck and rises a foot above it so as to be well above the wash of most waves, and in the deck near the stern there is a small hole with a cap fitted so as to turn the water but admit the air. thus free circulation of air is established below deck." suddenly a hissing sound was heard to windward. "look out, moses," said van der kemp. "there it comes. let go the sheet. keep good hold of your paddle, nigel." the warning was by no means unnecessary, for as the canoe's head was turned to meet the blast, a hissing sheet of white water swept right over the tiny craft, completely submerging it, insomuch that the three men appeared to be sitting more than waist-deep in the water. "lower the mainsail!" shouted the hermit, for the noise of wind and sea had become deafening. nigel obeyed and held on to the flapping sheet. the hermit had at the same moment let go the foresail, the flapping of which he controlled by a rope-tackle arranged for the purpose. he then grasped his single-blade paddle and aided moses in keeping her head to wind and sea. for a few minutes this was all that could be done. then the first violence of the squall passed off, allowing the deck of the little craft to appear above the tormented water. soon the waves began to rise. the mere keeping of the canoe's head to wind required all the attention of both master and man, while nigel sat waiting for orders and looking on with mingled feelings of surprise and curiosity. of course they were all three wet to the skin, for the water had got up their sleeves and down their necks; but, being warm, that mattered little, and the oiled aprons before mentioned, being securely fastened round their waists, effectually prevented any of it from getting below save the little that passed through the thickness of their own garments. no word was spoken for at least a quarter of an hour, during which time, although they rose buoyantly on the water, the waves washed continually over the low-lying deck. as this deck was flush with the gunwale, or rather, had no gunwale at all, the water ran off it as it does off a whale's back. then there came a momentary lull. "now, moses--'bout ship!" shouted van der kemp. "stand by, nigel!" "ay, ay, sir." although the canoe was long--and therefore unfitted to turn quickly--the powerful strokes of the two paddles in what may be called counteracting-harmony brought the little craft right round with her stern to the waves. "hoist away, nigel! we must run right before it now." up went the mainsail, the tiny foresail bulged out at the same moment, and away they went like the driving foam, appearing almost to leap from wave to wave. all sense of danger was now overwhelmed in nigel's mind by that feeling of excitement and wild delight which accompanies some kinds of rapid motion. this was, if possible, intensified by the crashing thunder which now burst forth and the vivid lightning which began to play, revealing from time to time the tumultuous turmoil as if in clearest moonlight, only to plunge it again in still blacker night. by degrees the gale increased in fury, and it soon became evident that neither sails nor cordage could long withstand the strain to which they were subjected. "a'most too much, massa," said the negro in a suggestive shout. "right, moses," returned his master. "i was just thinking we must risk it." "risk what? i wonder," thought nigel. he had not long to wait for an answer to his thought. "down wi' the mainsail," was quickly followed by the lowering of the foresail until not more than a mere corner was shown, merely to keep the canoe end-on to the seas. soon even this was lowered, and van der kemp used his double-blade paddle to keep them in position, at the same time telling nigel to unship the mast. "and plug the hole with that," he added, handing him a bit of wood which exactly fitted the hole in the deck. watching for another lull in the blast, the hermit at last gave the order, and round they came as before, head to wind, but not quite so easily, and nigel felt that they had narrowly escaped overturning in the operation. "keep her so, moses. you can help with your paddle, nigel, while i get ready our anchor." "anchor!" exclaimed our hero in amazement--obeying orders, however, at the same moment. the hermit either did not hear the exclamation or did not care to notice it. he quickly collected the mast and sails, with a couple of boat-hooks and all the paddles excepting two single ones. these he bound together by means of the sheets and halyards, attached the whole to a hawser,--one end of which passed through an iron ring at the bow--and tossed it into the sea--paying out the hawser rapidly at the same time so as to put a few yards between them and their floating anchor--if it may be so called--in the lee of which they prepared to ride out the gale. it was well that they had taken the precaution to put on their waterproofs before the gale began, because, while turned head to wind every breaking wave swept right over their heads, and even now while under the lee of the floating anchor they were for some time almost continually overwhelmed by thick spray. being, however, set free from the necessity of keeping their tiny craft in position, they all bowed their heads on the deck, sheltered their faces in their hands and awaited the end! whilst in this attitude--so like to that of prayer--nigel almost naturally thought of him who holds the water in the hollow of his hand, and lifted his soul to god; for, amid the roaring of the gale, the flashes of lightning, the appalling thunder, the feeling that he was in reality all but under the waves and the knowledge that the proverbial plank between him and death was of the very thinnest description, a sensation of helplessness and of dependence on the almighty, such as he had never before experienced, crept over him. what the thoughts of the hermit were he could not tell, for that strange man seldom spoke about himself; but moses was not so reticent, for he afterwards remarked that he had often been caught by gales while in the canoe, and had been attached for hours to their floating anchor, but that "dat was out ob sight de wust bust ob wedder dey'd had since dey come to lib at krakatoa, an' he had bery nigh giben up in despair!" the use of the floating breakwater was to meet the full force of the seas and break them just before they reached the canoe. in spite of this some of them were so tremendous that, broken though they were, the swirling foam completely buried the craft for a second or two, but the sharp bow cut its way through, and the water poured off the deck and off the stooping figures like rain from a duck's back. of course a good deal got in at their necks, sleeves, and other small openings, and wet them considerably, but that, as moses remarked, "was not'ing to speak ob." thus they lay tossing in the midst of the raging foam for several hours. now and then each would raise his head a little to see that the rope held fast, but was glad to lower it again. they hardly knew when day broke. it was so slow in coming, and so gloomy and dark when it did come, that the glare of the lightning-flash seemed more cheerful. it may be easily believed that there was no conversation during those hours of elemental strife, though the thoughts of each were busy enough. at last the thunder ceased, or, rather, retired as if in growling defiance of the world which it had failed to destroy. then the sky began to lighten a little, and although the wind did not materially abate in force it became more steady and equal. before noon, however, it had subsided so much that moses suggested the propriety of continuing the voyage. to this van der kemp agreed, and the floating anchor was hauled in; the large paddle was resumed by the hermit, and the dangerous process of turning the canoe was successfully accomplished. when the mast was again set up and the close-reefed main and foresails were hoisted, the light craft bounded away once more before the wind like a fleck of foam. then a gleam of sunshine forced its way through the driving clouds, and painted a spot of emerald green on the heaving sea. soon after that van der kemp opened the lid, or hatch, of the forehold, and spinkie, jumping out with alacrity, took possession of his usual seat beside the mast, to which he clung with affectionate tenacity. gradually the wind went down. reef after reef of the two sails was shaken out, and for several hours thereafter our travellers sped merrily on, plunging into the troughs and cutting through the crests of the stormy sea. chapter xiii. friends are met with, also pirates, and a life-or-death paddle ensues. in physics, as in morals, a storm is frequently the precursor of a dead calm. much to the monkey's joy, to say nothing of the men, the sun erelong asserted its equatorial power, and, clearing away the clouds, allowed the celestial blue to smile on the turmoil below. the first result of that smile was that the wind retired to its secret chambers, leaving the ships of men to flap their idle sails. then the ocean ceased to fume, though its agitated bosom still continued for some time to heave. gradually the swell went down and soon the unruffled surface reflected a dimpling smile to the sky. when this happy stage had been reached our voyagers lowered and stowed the canoe-sails, and continued to advance under paddles. "we get along wonderfully fast, van der kemp," said nigel, while resting after a pretty long spell; "but it seems to me, nevertheless, that we shall take a considerable time to reach borneo at this rate, seeing that it must be over two hundred miles away, and if we have much bad weather or contrary wind, we shan't be able to reach it for weeks--if at all." "i have been thrown somewhat out of my reckoning," returned the hermit, "by having to fly from the party on the islet, where i meant to remain till a steamer, owned by a friend of mine, should pass and pick us up, canoe and all. the steamer is a short-voyage craft, and usually so punctual that i can count on it to a day. but it may have passed us in the gale. if so, i shall take advantage of the first vessel that will agree to lend us a hand." "how!--do you get them to tow you?" "nay, that were impossible. a jerk from the tow-rope of a steamer at full speed would tear us asunder. have you observed these two strong ropes running all round our gunwale, and the bridles across with ring-bolts in them?" "i have, and did not ask their use, as i thought they were merely meant to strengthen the canoe." "so they are," continued the hermit, "but they have other uses besides--" "massa," cried moses, at this point. "you'll 'scuse me for 'truptin' you, but it's my opinion dat spinkie's sufferin' jus' now from a empty stummik!" the hermit smiled and nigel laughed. laying down his paddle the former said-- "i understand, moses. that speech means that you are suffering from the same complaint. well--get out the biscuit." "jus' de way oh de wurld," muttered the negro with a bland smile. "if a poor man obsarves an' feels for de sorrows ob anoder, he allers gits credit for t'inkin' ob hisself. neber mind, i's used to it!" evidently the unjust insinuation did not weigh heavily on the negro's spirit, for he soon began to eat with the appetite of a healthy alligator. while he was thus engaged, he chanced to raise his eyes towards the south-western horizon, and there saw something which caused him to splutter, for his mouth was too full to speak, but his speaking eyes and pointing finger caused his companions to turn their faces quickly to the quarter indicated. "a steamer!" exclaimed the hermit and nigel in the same breath. the vessel in question was coming straight towards them, and a very short time enabled van der kemp to recognise with satisfaction the steamer owned by his friend. "look here, run that to the mast-head," said van der kemp, handing a red flag to nigel. "we lie so low in the water that they might pass quite close without observing us if we showed no signal." an immediate though slight change in the course of the steamer showed that the signal had been seen. hereupon the hermit and moses performed an operation on the canoe which still further aroused nigel's surprise and curiosity. he resolved to ask no questions, however, but to await the issue of events. from the marvellous hold of the canoe, which seemed to be a magazine for the supply of every human need, moses drew a short but strong rope or cable, with a ring in the middle of it, and a hook at each end. he passed one end along to his master who hooked it to the bridle-rope at the bow before referred to. the other end was hooked to the bridle in the stern, so that the ring in the centre came close to nigel's elbow. this arrangement had barely been completed when the steamer was within hail, but no hail was given, for the captain knew what was expected of him. he reduced speed as the vessel approached the canoe, and finally came almost to a stop as he ranged alongside. "what cheer, van der kemp? d'ye want a lift to-day?" shouted the skipper, looking over the side. a nod and a wave of the hand was the hermit's reply. "heave a rope, boys--bow and stern--and lower away the tackle," was the skipper's order. a coil was flung to van der kemp, who deftly caught it and held on tight. another was flung to moses, who also caught it and held on--slack. at the same moment, nigel saw a large block with a hook attached descending towards his head. "catch it, nigel, and hook it to the ring at your elbow," said the hermit. our hero obeyed, still in surprise, though a glimmer of what was to follow began to dawn. "haul away!" shouted the skipper, and next moment the canoe was swinging in the air, kept in position by the lines in the hands of van der kemp and moses. at the same time another order was given, and the steamer went ahead full speed. it was all so suddenly done, and seemed such a reckless proceeding, that nigel found himself on the steamer's deck, with the canoe reposing beside him, before he had recovered from his surprise sufficiently to acknowledge in suitable terms the welcome greeting of the hospitable skipper. "you see, nigel," said van der kemp that night, as the two friends paced the deck together after supper, "i have other means, besides paddles and sails, of getting quickly about in the java seas. many of the traders and skippers here know me, and give me a lift in this way when i require it." "very kind of them, and very convenient," returned nigel. he felt inclined to add: "but why all this moving about?" for it was quite evident that trade was not the hermit's object, but the question, as usual, died on his lips, and he somewhat suddenly changed the subject. "d'ye know, van der kemp, that i feel as if i must have seen you somewhere or other before now, for your features seem strangely familiar to me. have you ever been in england?" "never. as i have told you, i was born in java, and was educated in hongkong at an english school. but a fancy of this sort is not very uncommon. i myself once met a perfect stranger who bore so strong a resemblance to an old friend, that i spoke to him as such, and only found out from his voice that i was mistaken." the captain of the steamer came on deck at that moment and cut short the conversation. "are you engaged, van der kemp?" he asked. "no--i am at your service." "come below then, i want to have a talk with you." thus left alone, and overhearing a loud burst of laughter at the fore part of the steamer, nigel went forward to see what was going on. he found a group of sailors round his comrade moses, apparently engaged in good-natured "chaff." "come, now, blackey," said one; "be a good fellow for once in your life an' tell us what makes your master live on a desert island like robinson crusoe, an' go about the ocean in a canoe." "look 'ere now, whitey," returned moses, "what you take me for?" "a nigger, of course." "ob course, an' you're right for once, which is sitch an unusual t'ing dat i 'dvise you go an' ax de cappen to make a note ob it in de log. i's a nigger, an' a nigger's so much more 'cute dan a white man dat you shouldn't ought to expect him to blab his massa's secrets." "right you are, moses. come, then, if you won't reweal secrets, give us a song." "couldn't t'ink ob such a t'ing," said the negro, with a solemn, remonstrant shake of the head. "why not?" "'cause i neber sing a song widout a moral, an' i don't like to hurt your feelin's by singin' a moral dat would be sure to waken up _some_ o' your consciences." "never mind that, darkey. our consciences are pretty tough. heave ahead." "but dere's a chorus," said moses, looking round doubtfully. "what o' that? we'll do our best with it--if it ain't too difficult." "oh, it's not diffikilt, but if de lazy fellers among you sings de chorus dey'll be singin' lies, an' i don't 'zackly like to help men to tell lies. howseber, here goes. it begins wid de chorus so's you may know it afore you has to sing it." so saying, moses struck two fingers on the capstan after the manner of a tuning-fork, and, holding them gravely to his ear as if to get the right pitch, began in a really fine manly voice to chant the following ditty:-- "go to work." oh when de sun am shinin' bright, and eberyt'ing am fair, clap on de steam an' go to work, an' take your proper share. de wurld hab got to go ahead, an' dem what's young and strong mus' do deir best, wid all de rest, to roll de wurld along. de lazy man does all he can to stop its whirlin' round. if he was king he'd loaf an' sing--and guzzle, i'll be bound, he always shirk de hardest work, an' t'ink he's awful clebbar, but boder his head to earn his bread, oh! no, he'll nebber, nebber. _chorus_--oh when de sun, etc. de selfish man would rader dan put out his hand to work, let women toil, an' sweat and moil--as wicked as de turk. de cream ob eberyt'ing he wants, let oders hab de skim; in fact de wurld and all it holds was only made for him. _chorus_--oh when de sun, etc. so keep de ball a-rollin', boys, an' each one do his best to make de wurld a happy one--for dat's how man is blest. do unto oders all around de t'ing what's good and true, an' oders, 'turning tit for tat, will do de same to you. _chorus_--oh when de sun, etc. the sailors, who were evidently much pleased, took up the chorus moderately at the second verse, came out strong at the third, and sang with such genuine fervour at the last that it was quite evident, as moses remarked, there was not a lazy man amongst them--at least, if they all sang conscientiously! the weather improved every hour, and after a fine run of about twenty-four hours over that part of the malay sea, our three voyagers were lowered over the steamer's side in their canoe when within sight of the great island of borneo. "i'm sorry," said the captain at parting, "that our courses diverge here, for i would gladly have had your company a little longer. good-bye. i hope we'll come across you some other time when i'm in these parts." "thanks--thanks, my friend,'" replied van der kemp, with a warm grip of the hand, and a touch of pathos in his tones. "i trust that we shall meet again. you have done me good service by shortening my voyage considerably.--farewell." "i say, moses," shouted one of the seamen, as he looked down on the tiny canoe while they were pushing off. "hallo?" "keep your heart up, for--we'll try to 'do to oders all around de t'ing what's good an' true!'" "das de way, boy--'an' oders, 'turning tit for tat, will do de same to you!'" he yelled rather than sang this at the top of his tuneful voice, and waved his hand as the sharp craft shot away over the sea. fortunately the sea was calm, for it was growing dark when they reached the shores of borneo and entered the mouth of a small stream, up which they proceeded to paddle. the banks of the stream were clothed with mangrove trees. we have said the banks, but in truth the mouth of that river had no distinguishable banks at all, for it is the nature of the mangrove to grow in the water--using its roots as legs with which, as it were, to wade away from shore. when darkness fell suddenly on the landscape, as it is prone to do in tropical regions, the gnarled roots of those mangroves assumed the appearance of twining snakes in nigel's eyes. possessing a strongly imaginative mind he could with difficulty resist the belief that he saw them moving slimily about in the black water, and, in the dim mysterious light, tree stems and other objects assumed the appearance of hideous living forms, so that he was enabled to indulge the uncomfortable fancy that they were traversing some terrestrial styx into one of dante's regions of horror. in some respects this was not altogether a fancy, for they were unwittingly drawing near to a band of human beings whose purposes, if fully carried out, would render the earth little better than a hell to many of their countrymen. it is pretty well known that there is a class of men in borneo called head hunters. these men hold the extraordinary and gruesome opinion that a youth has not attained to respectable manhood until he has taken the life of some human being. there are two distinct classes of dyaks--those who inhabit the hills and those who dwell on the sea-coast. it is the latter who recruit the ranks of the pirates of those eastern seas, and it was to the camp of a band of such villains that our adventurers were, as already said, unwittingly drawing near. they came upon them at a bend of the dark river beyond which point the mangroves gave place to other trees--but what sort of trees they were it was scarcely light enough to make out very distinctly, except in the case of the particular tree in front of which the dyaks were encamped, the roots of which were strongly illuminated by their camp fire. we say _roots_ advisedly, for this singular and gigantic tree started its branches from a complexity of aërial roots which themselves formed a pyramid some sixty feet high, before the branches proper of the tree began. if our voyagers had used oars the sharp ears of the pirates would have instantly detected them. as it was, the softly moving paddles and the sharp cutwater of the canoe made no noise whatever. the instant that van der kemp, from his position in the bow, observed the camp, he dipped his paddle deep, and noiselessly backed water. there was no need to give any signal to his servant. such a thorough understanding existed between them that the mere action of the hermit was sufficient to induce the negro to support him by a similar movement on the opposite side, and the canoe glided as quickly backward as it had previously advanced. when under the deep shadow of the bank moses thrust the canoe close in, and his master, laying hold of the bushes, held fast and made a sign to him to land and reconnoitre. creeping forward to an opening in the bushes close at hand, moses peeped through. then he turned and made facial signals of a kind so complicated that he could not be understood, as nothing was visible save the flashing of his teeth and eyes. van der kemp therefore recalled him by a sign, and, stepping ashore, whispered nigel to land. [illustration: discover a pirates' bivouac.--page .] another minute and the three travellers stood on the bank with their heads close together. "wait here for me," said the hermit, in the lowest possible whisper. "i will go and see who they are." "strange," said nigel, when he was gone; "strange that in so short a time your master should twice have to stalk strangers in this way. history repeats itself, they say. it appears to do so rather fast in these regions! does he not run a very great risk of being discovered?" "not de smallest," replied the negro, with as much emphasis as was possible in a whisper. "massa hab ride wid de vaquieros ob ameriky an' hunt wid de injuns on de rockies. no more fear ob deir ketchin' him dan ob ketchin' a streak o' lightnin'. he come back bery soon wid all de news." moses was a true prophet. within half-an-hour van der kemp returned as noiselessly as he had gone. he did not keep them long in uncertainty. "i have heard enough," he whispered, "to assure me that a plot, of which i had already heard a rumour, has nearly been laid. we fell in with the chief plotters on the islet the other night; the band here is in connection with them and awaits their arrival before carrying out their dark designs. there is nothing very mysterious about it. one tribe plotting to attack another--that is all; but as a friend of mine dwells just now with the tribe to be secretly attacked, it behoves me to do what i can to save him. i am perplexed, however. it would seem sometimes as if we were left in perplexity for wise purposes which are beyond our knowledge." "perhaps to test our willingness to _do right_," suggested nigel. "i know not," returned the hermit, as if musing, but never raising his voice above the softest whisper. "my difficulty lies here; i _must_ go forward to save the life of my friend. i must _not_ leave you at the mouth of a mangrove river to die or be captured by pirates, and yet i have no right to ask you to risk your life on my account!" "you may dismiss your perplexities then," said nigel, promptly, "for i decline to be left to die here or to be caught by pirates, and i am particularly anxious to assist you in rescuing your friend. besides, am i not your hired servant?" "the risk we run is only at the beginning," said van der kemp. "if we succeed in passing the dyaks unseen all will be well. if they see us, they will give chase, and our lives, under god, will depend on the strength of our arms, for i am known to them and have thwarted their plans before now. if they catch us, death will be our certain doom. are you prepared?" "ready!" whispered nigel. without another word the hermit took his place in the bow of the canoe. moses stepped into the stern, and our hero sat down in the middle. before pushing off, the hermit drew a revolver and a cutlass from his store-room in the bow and handed them to nigel, who thrust the first into his belt and fastened the other to the deck by means of a strap fixed there on purpose to prevent its being rolled or swept off. this contrivance, as well as all the other appliances in the canoe, had previously been pointed out and explained to him. the hermit and negro having armed themselves in similar way, let go the bushes which held them close to the bank and floated out into the stream. they let the canoe drift down a short way so as to be well concealed by the bend in the river and a mass of bushes. then they slowly paddled over to the opposite side and commenced to creep up as close to the bank as possible, under the deep shadow of overhanging trees, and so noiselessly that they appeared in the darkness like a passing phantom. but the sharp eyes of the pirates were too much accustomed to phantoms of every kind to be easily deceived. just as the canoe was about to pass beyond the line of their vision a stir was heard in their camp. then a stern challenge rolled across the river and awoke the slumbering echoes of the forest--perchance to the surprise and scaring away of some prowling beast of prey. "no need for concealment now," said van der kemp, quietly; "we must paddle for life. if you have occasion to use your weapons, nigel, take no life needlessly. moses knows my mind on this point and needs no warning. any fool can take away life. only god can give it." "i will be careful," replied nigel, as he dipped his paddle with all the muscular power at his command. his comrades did the same, and the canoe shot up the river like an arrow. a yell from the dyaks, and the noise of jumping into and pushing off their boats told that there was no time to lose. "they are strong men, and plenty of them to relieve each other," said the hermit, who now spoke in his ordinary tones, "so they have some chance of overhauling us in the smooth water; but a few miles further up there is a rapid which will stop them and will only check us. if we can reach it we shall be safe." while he was speaking every muscle in his broad back and arms was strained to the uttermost; so also were the muscles of his companions, and the canoe seemed to advance by a series of rapid leaps and bounds. yet the sound of the pursuers' oars seemed to increase, and soon the proverb "it is the pace that kills" received illustration, for the speed of the canoe began to decrease a little--very little at first--while the pursuers, with fresh hands at the oars, gradually overhauled the fugitives. "put on a spurt!" said the hermit, setting the example. the pirates heard the words and understood either them or the action that followed, for they also "put on a spurt," and encouraged each other with a cheer. moses heard the cheer, and at the same time heard the sound of the rapid to which they were by that time drawing near. he glanced over his shoulder and could make out the dim form of the leading boat, with a tall figure standing up in the bow, not thirty yards behind. "shall we manage it, moses?" asked van der kemp, in that calm steady voice which seemed to be unchangeable either by anxiety or peril. "no, massa. unpossable--widout _dis_!" the negro drew the revolver from his belt, slewed round, took rapid aim and fired. the tall figure in the bow of the boat fell back with a crash and a hideous yell. great shouting and confusion followed, and the boat dropped behind. a few minutes later and the canoe was leaping over the surges of a shallow rapid. they dashed from eddy to eddy, taking advantage of every stone that formed a tail of backwater below it, and gradually worked the light craft upward in a way that the hermit and his man had learned in the nor'-western rivers of america. "we are not safe yet," said the former, resting and wiping his brow as they floated for a few seconds in a calm basin at the head of the rapid. "surely they cannot take a boat up such a place as that!" "nay, but they can follow up the banks on foot. however, we will soon baffle them, for the river winds like a serpent just above this, and by carrying our canoe across one, two, or three spits of land we will gain a distance in an hour or so that would cost them nearly a day to ascend in boats. they know that, and will certainly give up the chase. i think they have given it up already, but it is well to make sure." "i wonder why they did not fire at us," remarked nigel. "probably because they felt sure of catching us," returned the hermit, "and when they recovered from the confusion that moses threw them into we were lost to them in darkness, besides being pretty well beyond range. i hope, moses, that you aimed low." "yes, massa--but it's sca'cely fair when life an' def am in de balance to expect me to hit 'im on de legs on a dark night. legs is a bad targit. bullet's apt to pass between 'em. howseber, dat feller won't hop much for some time to come!" a couple of hours later, having carried the canoe and baggage across the spits of land above referred to, and thus put at least half-a-day's journey between themselves and their foes, they came to a halt for the night. "it won't be easy to find a suitable place to camp on," remarked nigel, glancing at the bank, where the bushes grew so thick that they overhung the water, brushing the faces of our travellers and rendering the darkness so intense that they had literally to feel their way as they glided along. "we will encamp where we are," returned the hermit. "i'll make fast to a bush and you may get out the victuals, moses." "das de bery best word you've said dis day, massa," remarked the negro with a profound sigh. "i's pritty well tired now, an' de bery t'ought ob grub comforts me!" "do you mean that we shall sleep in the canoe?" asked nigel. "ay, why not?" returned the hermit, who could be heard, though not seen, busying himself with the contents of the fore locker. "you'll find the canoe a pretty fair bed. you have only to slip down and pull your head and shoulders through the manhole and go to sleep. you won't want blankets in this weather, and, see--there is a pillow for you and another for moses." "i cannot _see_, but i can feel," said nigel, with a soft laugh, as he passed the pillow aft. "t'ank ee, nadgel," said moses; "here--feel behind you an' you'll find grub for yourself an' some to pass forid to massa. mind when you slip down for go to sleep dat you don't dig your heels into massa's skull. dere's no bulkhead to purtect it." "i'll be careful," said nigel, beginning his invisible supper with keen appetite. "but how about _my_ skull, moses? is there a bulkhead between it and _your_ heels?" "no, but you don't need to mind, for i allers sleeps doubled up, wid my knees agin my chin. it makes de arms an' legs feel more sociable like." with this remark moses ceased to encourage conversation--his mouth being otherwise engaged. thereafter they slipped down into their respective places, laid their heads on their pillows and fell instantly into sound repose, while the dark waters flowed sluggishly past, and the only sound that disturbed the universal stillness was the occasional cry of some creature of the night or the flap of an alligator's tail. chapter xiv. a new friend found--new dangers encountered and hew hopes delayed. when grey dawn began to dispel the gloom of night, nigel roy awoke with an uncomfortable sensation of having been buried alive. stretching himself as was his wont he inadvertently touched the head of van der kemp, an exclamation from whom aroused moses, who, uncoiling himself, awoke spinkie. it was usually the privilege of that affectionate creature to nestle in the negro's bosom. with the alacrity peculiar to his race, spinkie sprang through the manhole and sat down in his particular place to superintend, perhaps to admire, the work of his human friends, whose dishevelled heads emerged simultaneously from their respective burrows. dawn is a period of the day when the spirit of man is calmly reflective. speech seemed distasteful that morning, and as each knew what had to be done, it was needless. the silently conducted operations of the men appeared to arouse fellow-feeling in the monkey, for its careworn countenance became more and more expressive as it gazed earnestly and alternately into the faces of its comrades. to all appearance it seemed about to speak--but it didn't. pushing out from the shore they paddled swiftly up stream, and soon put such a distance between them and their late pursuers that all risk of being overtaken was at an end. all day they advanced inland without rest, save at the breakfast hour, and again at mid-day to dine. towards evening they observed that the country through which they were passing had changed much in character and aspect. the low and swampy region had given place to hillocks and undulating ground, all covered with the beautiful virgin forest with its palms and creepers and noble fruit-trees and rich vegetation, conspicuous among which magnificent ferns of many kinds covered the steep banks of the stream. on rounding a point of the river the travellers came suddenly upon an interesting group, in the midst of a most beautiful woodland scene. under the trees on a flat spot by the river-bank were seated round a fire a man and a boy and a monkey. the monkey was a tame orang-utan, youthful but large. the boy was a dyak in light cotton drawers, with the upper part of his body naked, brass rings on his arms, heavy ornaments in his ears, and a bright kerchief worn as a turban on his head. the man was a sort of nondescript in a semi-european shooting garb, with a wide-brimmed sombrero on his head, black hair, a deeply tanned face, a snub nose, huge beard and moustache, and immense blue spectacles. something not unlike a cheer burst from the usually undemonstrative van der kemp on coming in sight of the party, and he waved his hand as if in recognition. the nondescript replied by starting to his feet, throwing up both arms and giving vent to an absolute roar of joy. "he seems to know you," remarked nigel, as they made for a landing-place. "yes. he is the friend i have come to rescue," replied the hermit in a tone of quiet satisfaction. "he is a naturalist and lives with the rajah against whom the pirates are plotting." "he don't look z'if he needs much rescuin'," remarked moses with a chuckle, as they drew to land. the man looked in truth as if he were well able to take care of himself in most circumstances, being of colossal bulk although somewhat short of limb. "ah! mein frond! mine brodder!" he exclaimed, in fairly idiomatic english, but with a broken pronunciation that was a mixture of dutch, american, and malay. his language therefore, like himself, was nondescript. in fact he was an american-born dutchman, who had been transported early in life to the straits settlements, had received most of his education in hongkong, was an old school-fellow of van der kemp, became an enthusiastic naturalist, and, being possessed of independent means, spent most of his time in wandering about the various islands of the archipelago, making extensive collections of animal and vegetable specimens, which he distributed with liberal hand to whatever museums at home or abroad seemed most to need or desire them. owing to his tastes and habits he had been dubbed professor by his friends. "ach! van der kemp," he exclaimed, while his coal-black eyes glittered as they shook hands, "_vat_ a booterfly i saw to-day! it beat all creation! the vay it flew--oh! but, excuse me--v'ere did you come from, and vy do you come? an' who is your frond?" he turned to nigel as he spoke, and doffed his sombrero with a gracious bow. "an englishman--nigel roy--who has joined me for a few months," said the hermit. "let me introduce you, nigel, to my good friend, professor verkimier." nigel held out his hand and gave the naturalist's a shake so hearty, that a true friendship was begun on the spot--a friendship which was rapidly strengthened when the professor discovered that the english youth had a strong leaning towards his own favourite studies. "ve vill hont an' shot togezzer, mine frond," he said, on making this discovery, "ant i vill show you v'ere de best booterflies are to be fount--oh! sooch a von as i saw to---- but, excuse me, van der kemp. vy you come here joost now?" "to save _you_" said the hermit, with a scintillation of his half-pitiful smile. "to safe _me_!" exclaimed verkimier, with a look of surprise which was greatly intensified by the rotundity of the blue spectacles. "vell, i don't feel to vant safing joost at present." "it is not that danger threatens _you_ so much as your friend the rajah," returned the hermit. "but if he falls, all under his protection fall along with him. i happen to have heard of a conspiracy against him, on so large a scale that certain destruction would follow if he were taken by surprise, so i have come on in advance of the conspirators to warn him in time. you know i have received much kindness from the rajah, so i could do no less than warn him of impending danger, and then the fact that you were with him made me doubly anxious to reach you in time." while the hermit was saying this, the naturalist removed his blue glasses, and slowly wiped them with a corner of his coat-tails. replacing them, he gazed intently into the grave countenance of his friend till he had finished speaking. "are zee raskils near?" he asked, sternly. "no. we have come on many days ahead of them. but we found a party at the river's mouth awaiting their arrival." "ant zey cannot arrife, you say, for several veeks?" "probably not--even though they had fair and steady winds." a sigh of satisfaction broke through the naturalist's moustache on hearing this. "zen i vill--_ve_ vill, you and i, mister roy,--go after ze booterflies to-morrow!" "but we must push on," remonstrated van der kemp, "for preparations to resist an attack cannot be commenced too soon." "_you_ may push on, mine frond; go ahead if you vill, but i vill not leave zee booterflies. you know veil zat i vill die--if need be--for zee rajah. ve must all die vonce, at least, and i should like to die--if i must die--in a goot cause. what cause better zan frondship? but you say joost now zere is no dancher. vell, i vill go ant see zee booterflies to-morrow. after zat, i will go ant die--if it must be--vith zee rajah." "i heartily applaud your sentiment," said nigel, with a laugh, as he helped himself to some of the food which the dyak youth and moses had prepared, "and if van der kemp will give me leave of absence i will gladly keep you company." "zank you. pass round zee victuals. my appetite is strong. it alvays vas more or less strong. vat say you, van der kemp?" "i have no objection. moses and i can easily take the canoe up the river. there are no rapids, and it is not far to the rajah's village; so you are welcome to go, nigel." "das de most 'straord'nary craze i eber know'd men inflicted wid!" said moses that night, as he sat smoking his pipe beside the dyak boy. "it passes my compr'ension what fun dey find runnin' like child'n arter butterflies, an' beetles, an' sitch like varmint. my massa am de wisest man on eart', yet _he_ go a little wild dat way too--sometimes!" moses looked at the dyak boy with a puzzled expression, but as the dyak boy did not understand english, he looked intently at the fire, and said nothing. next morning nigel entered the forest under the guidance of verkimier and the dyak youth, and the orang-utan, which followed like a dog, and sometimes even took hold of its master's arm and walked with him as if it had been a very small human being. it was a new experience to nigel to walk in the sombre shade beneath the tangled arches of the wilderness. in some respects it differed entirely from his expectations, and in others it surpassed them. the gloom was deeper than he had pictured it, but the shade was not displeasing in a land so close to the equator. then the trees were much taller than he had been led to suppose, and the creeping plants more numerous, while, to his surprise, the wild-flowers were comparatively few and small. but the scarcity of these was somewhat compensated by the rich and brilliant colouring of the foliage. the abundance and variety of the ferns also struck the youth particularly. "ah! zey are magnificent!" exclaimed verkimier with enthusiasm. "look at zat tree-fern. you have not'ing like zat in england--eh! i have found nearly von hoondred specimens of ferns. zen, look at zee fruit-trees. ve have here, you see, zee lansat, mangosteen, rambutan, jack, jambon, blimbing ant many ozers--but zee queen of fruits is zee durian. have you tasted zee durian?" "no, not yet." "ha! a new sensation is before you! stay, you vill eat von by ant by. look, zat is a durian tree before you." he pointed as he spoke to a large and lofty tree, which mr. a.r. wallace, the celebrated naturalist and traveller, describes as resembling an elm in general character but with a more smooth and scaly bark. the fruit is round, or slightly oval, about the size of a man's head, of a green colour, and covered all over with short spines which are very strong and so sharp that it is difficult to lift the fruit from the ground. only the experienced and expert can cut the tough outer rind. there are five faint lines extending from the base to the apex of the fruit, through which it may be divided with a heavy knife and a strong hand, so as to get to the delicious creamy pulp inside. there is something paradoxical in the descriptions of this fruit by various writers, but all agree that it is inexpressibly good! says one--writing of the sixteenth century--"it is of such an excellent taste that it surpasses in flavour all the other fruits of the world." another writes: "this fruit is of a hot and humid nature. to those not used to it, it seems at first to smell like rotten onions! but immediately they have tasted it they prefer it to all other food." wallace himself says of it: "when brought into the house, the smell is so offensive that some persons can never bear to taste it. this was my own case in malacca, but in borneo i found a ripe fruit on the ground, and, eating it out of doors, i at once became a confirmed durian-eater!" this was exactly the experience of nigel roy that day, and the way in which the fruit came to him was also an experience, but of a very different sort. it happened just as they were looking about for a suitable spot on which to rest and eat their mid-day meal. verkimier was in front with the orang-utan reaching up to his arm and hobbling affectionately by his side--for there was a strong mutual affection between them. the dyak youth brought up the rear, with a sort of game-bag on his shoulders. suddenly nigel felt something graze his arm, and heard a heavy thud at his side. it was a ripe durian which had fallen from an immense height and missed him by a hairbreadth. "zank got, you have escaped!" exclaimed the professor, looking back with a solemn countenance. "i have indeed escaped what might have been a severe blow," said nigel, stooping to examine the fruit, apparently forgetful that more might follow. "come--come avay. my boy vill bring it. men are sometimes killed by zis fruit. here now ve vill dine." they sat down on a bank which was canopied by ferns. while the boy was arranging their meal, verkimier drew a heavy hunting-knife from his belt and applying it with an unusually strong hand to the durian laid it open. nigel did not at all relish the smell, but he was not fastidious or apt to be prejudiced. he tasted--and, like mr. wallace, "became a confirmed durian eater" from that day. "ve draw near to zee region vere ve shall find zee booterflies," said the naturalist, during a pause in their luncheon. "i hope we shall be successful," said nigel, helping himself to some more of what may be styled durian cream. "to judge from the weight and hardness of this fruit, i should think a blow on one's head from it would be fatal." "sometimes, not alvays. i suppose zat dyak skulls are strong. but zee wound is terrible, for zee spikes tear zee flesh dreadfully. zee dyak chief, rajah, vith whom i dwell joost now, was floored once by one, and he expected to die--but he did not. he is alife ant vell, as you shall see." as he spoke a large butterfly fluttered across the scene of their festivities. with all the energy of his enthusiastic spirit and strong muscular frame the naturalist leaped up, overturned his dinner, rushed after the coveted _specimen_, tripped over a root, and measured his length on the ground. "zat comes of too much horry!" he remarked, as he picked up his glasses, and returned, humbly, to continue his dinner. "mine frond, learn a lesson from a foolish man!" "i shall learn two lessons," said nigel, laughing--"first, to avoid your too eager haste, and, second, to copy if i can your admirable enthusiasm." "you are very goot. some more cheekin' if you please. zanks. ve most make haste viz our meal ant go to vork." the grandeur and novelty of the scenery through which they passed when they did go to work was a source of constant delight and surprise to our hero, whose inherent tendency to take note of and admire the wonderful works of god was increased by the unflagging enthusiasm and interesting running commentary of his companion, whose flow of language and eager sympathy formed a striking contrast to the profound silence and gravity of the dyak youth, as well as to the pathetic and affectionate selfishness of the man-monkey. it must not, however, be supposed that the young orang-utan was unworthy of his victuals, for, besides being an amusing and harmless companion, he had been trained to use his natural capacity for climbing trees in the service of his master. thus he ascended the tall durian trees, when ordered, and sent down some of the fruit in a few minutes--an operation which his human companions could not have accomplished without tedious delay and the construction of an ingenious ladder having slender bamboos for one of its sides, and the tree to be ascended for its other side, with splinters of bamboo driven into it by way of rounds. "zat is zee pitcher-plant," said verkimier, as nigel stopped suddenly before a plant which he had often read of but never seen. he was told by his friend that pitcher-plants were very numerous in that region; that every mountain-top abounded with them; that they would be found trailing along the ground and climbing over shrubs and stunted trees, with their elegant pitchers hanging in every direction. some of these, he said, were long and slender, others broad and short. the plant at which they were looking was a broad green one, variously tinted and mottled with red, and was large enough to hold two quarts of water. resuming the march nigel observed that the group of orchids was abundant, but a large proportion of the species had small inconspicuous flowers. some, however, had large clusters of yellow flowers which had a very ornamental effect on the sombre forest. but, although the exceptions were striking, he found that in borneo, as elsewhere, flowers were scarcer than he had expected in an equatorial forest. there were, however, more than enough of striking and surprising things to engage the attention of our hero, and arouse his interest. one tree they came to which rendered him for some moments absolutely speechless! to the intense delight of the professor, who marched his new-found sympathiser from one object of interest to another with the secret intention of surprising him, and when he had got him to the point of open-mouthed amazement he was wont to turn his spectacles full on his face, like the mouths of a blue binocular, in order to witness and enjoy his emotions! nigel found this out at last and was rather embarrassed in consequence. "zat," exclaimed the naturalist, after gazing at his friend for some time in silence, "zat is a tree vitch planted itself in mid-air and zen sent its roots down to zee ground and its branches up to zee sky!" "it looks as if it had," returned nigel; "i have seen a tree of the same kind near the coast. how came it to grow in this way?" "i know not. it is zought zat zey spring from a seed dropped by a bird into zee fork of anozer tree. zee seed grows, sends his roots down ant his branches up. ven his roots reach zee ground he lays hold, ant, ven strong enough, kills his support--zus returning efil for good, like a zankless dependent. ah! zere is much resemblance between plants and animals! com', ve must feed here," said the professor, resting his gun against one of the roots, "i had expected to find zee booterflies sooner. it cannot be helped. let us make zis our banqueting-hall. ve vill have a durian to refresh us, ant here is a bandy tree which seems to have ripe vones on it.--go," he added, turning to the orang-utan, "and send down von or two." the creature looked helplessly incapable, pitifully unwilling, scratching its side the while. evidently it was a lazy monkey. "do you hear?" said verkimier, sternly. the orang moved uneasily, but still declined to go. turning sharply on it, the professor bent down, placed a hand on each of his knees and stared through the blue goggles into the animal's face. this was more than it could stand. with a very bad grace it hobbled off to the durian tree, ascended it with a sort of lazy, lumbering facility, and hurled down some of the fruit without warning those below to look out. "my little frond is obstinate sometimes," remarked the naturalist, picking up the fruit, "but ven i bring my glasses to bear on him he alvays gives in. i never found zem fail. come now; eat, an' ve vill go to vork again. ve must certainly find zee booterflies somevere before night." [illustration: "do you hear?" said verkimier, sternly.--page .] but verkimier was wrong. it was his destiny not to find the butterflies that night, or in that region at all, for he and his companion had not quite finished their meal when a dyak youth came running up to them saying that he had been sent by the rajah to order their immediate return to the village. "alas! ve most go. it is dancherous to disobey zee rajah--ant i am sorry--very sorry--zat i cannot show you zee booterflies to-day. no matter.--go" (to the dyak youth), "tell your chief ve vill come. better lock zee next time!" chapter xv. hunting the great man-monkey. although professor verkimier had promised to return at once, he was compelled to encamp in the forest, being overtaken by night before he could reach the river and procure a boat. next morning they started at daybreak. the country over which they passed had again changed its character and become more hilly. on the summits of many of the hills dyak villages could be seen, and rice fields were met with as they went along. several gullies and rivulets were crossed by means of native bamboo bridges, and the professor explained as he went along the immense value of the bamboo to the natives. with it they make their suspension bridges, build their houses, and procure narrow planking for their floors. if they want broader planks they split a large bamboo on one side and flatten it out to a plank of about eighteen inches wide. portions of hollow bamboo serve as receptacles for milk or water. if a precipice stops a path, the dyaks will not hesitate to construct a bamboo path along the face of it, using branches of trees wherever convenient from which to hang the path, and every crevice or notch in the rocks to receive the ends of the bamboos by which it is supported. honey-bees in borneo hang their combs, to be out of danger no doubt, under the branches of the tappan, which towers above all the other trees of the forest. but the dyaks love honey and value wax as an article of trade; they therefore erect their ingenious bamboo ladder--which can be prolonged to any height on the smooth branchless stem of the tappan--and storm the stronghold of the bees with much profit to themselves, for bees'-wax will purchase from the traders the brass wire, rings, gold-edged kerchiefs and various ornaments with which they decorate themselves. when travelling, the dyaks use bamboos as cooking vessels in which to boil rice and other vegetables; as jars in which to preserve honey, sugar, etc., or salted fish and fruit. split bamboos form aqueducts by which water is conveyed to the houses. a small neatly carved piece of bamboo serves as a case in which are carried the materials used in the disgusting practice of betel-nut chewing--which seems to be equivalent to the western tobacco-chewing. if a pipe is wanted the dyak will in a wonderfully short space of time make a huge hubble-bubble out of bamboos of different sizes, and if his long-bladed knife requires a sheath the same gigantic grass supplies one almost ready-made. but the uses to which this reed may be applied are almost endless, and the great outstanding advantage of it is that it needs no other tools than an axe and a knife to work it. at about mid-day the river was reached, and they found a native boat, or prau, which had been sent down to convey them to the rajah's village. here nigel was received with the hospitality due to a friend of van der kemp, who, somehow--probably by unselfish readiness, as well as ability, to oblige--had contrived to make devoted friends in whatever part of the malay archipelago he travelled. afterwards, in a conversation with nigel, the professor, referring to those qualities of the hermit which endeared him to men everywhere, said, with a burst of enthusiasm, which almost outdid himself-- "you cannot oonderstant van der kemp. no man can oonderstant him. he is goot, right down to zee marrow--kind, amiable, oonselfish, obliging, nevair seems to zink of himself at all, ant, abof all zings, is capable. vat he vill do, he can do--vat he can do he vill do. but he is sad--very sad." "i have observed that, of course," said nigel. "do you know what makes him so sad?" the professor shook his head. "no, i do not know. nobody knows. i have tried to find out, but he vill not speak." the orang-kaya, or rich man, as this hill chief was styled, had provided lodgings for his visitors in the "head-house." this was a large circular building erected on poles. there is such a house in nearly all dyak villages. it serves as a trading-place, a strangers' room, a sleeping-room for unmarried youths, and a general council-chamber. here nigel found the hermit and moses enjoying a good meal when he arrived, to which he and the professor sat down after paying their respects to the chief. "the orang-kaya hopes that we will stay with him some time and help to defend the village," said van der kemp, when they were all seated. "of course you have agreed?" said nigel. "yes; i came for that purpose." "we's allers ready to fight in a good cause," remarked moses, just before filling his mouth with rice. "or to die in it!" added verkimier, engulfing the breast of a chicken at a bite. "but as zee pirates are not expected for some days, ve may as veil go after zee mias--zat is what zee natifs call zee orang-utan. it is a better word, being short." moses glanced at the professor out of the corners of his black eyes and seemed greatly tickled by his enthusiastic devotion to business. "i am also," continued the professor, "extremely anxious to go at zee booterflies before--" "you die," suggested nigel, venturing on a pleasantry, whereat moses opened his mouth in a soundless laugh, but, observing the professor's goggles levelled at him, he transformed the laugh into an astounding sneeze, and immediately gazed with pouting innocence and interest at his plate. "do you alvays sneeze like zat?" asked verkimier. "not allers," answered the negro simply, "sometimes i gibs way a good deal wuss. depends on de inside ob my nose an' de state ob de wedder." what the professor would have replied we cannot say, for just then a dyak youth rushed in to say that an unusually large and gorgeous butterfly had been seen just outside the village! no application of fire to gunpowder could have produced a more immediate effect. the professor's rice was scattered on the floor, and himself was outside the head-house before his comrades knew exactly what was the matter. "he's always like that," said the hermit, with a slight twinkle in his eyes. "nothing discourages--nothing subdues him. twice i pulled him out of deadly danger into which he had run in his eager pursuit of specimens. and he has returned the favour to me, for he rescued me once when a mias had got me down and would certainly have killed me, for my gun was empty at the moment, and i had dropped my knife." "is, then, the orang-utan so powerful and savage?" "truly, yes, when wounded and driven to bay," returned the hermit. "you must not judge of the creature by the baby that verkimier has tamed. a full-grown male is quite as large as a man, though very small in the legs in proportion, so that it does not stand high. it is also very much stronger than the most powerful man. you would be quite helpless in its grip, i assure you." "i hope, with the professor," returned nigel, "that we may have a hunt after them, either before or after the arrival of the pirates. i know he is very anxious to secure a good specimen for some museum in which he is interested--i forget which." as he spoke, the youth who had brought information about the butterfly returned and said a few words to moses in his native tongue. "what does he say?" asked nigel. "dat massa verkimier is in full chase, an' it's my opinion dat when he comes back he'll be wet all ober, and hab his shins and elbows barked." "why d'you think so?" "'cause dat's de way he goed on when we was huntin' wid him last year. he nebber larns fro' 'sperience." "that's a very fine-looking young fellow," remarked nigel, referring to the dyak youth who had just returned, and who, with a number of other natives, was watching the visitors with profound interest while they ate. as the young man referred to was a good sample of the youth of his tribe, we shall describe him. though not tall, he was well and strongly proportioned, and his skin was of a reddish-brown colour. like all his comrades, he wore little clothing. a gay handkerchief with a gold lace border encircled his head, from beneath which flowed a heavy mass of straight, jet-black hair. large crescent-shaped ornaments hung from his ears. his face was handsome and the expression pleasing, though the mouth was large and the lips rather thick. numerous brass rings encircled his arms above and below the elbows. his only other piece of costume was a waist-cloth of blue cotton, which hung down before and behind. it ended in three bands of red, blue, and white. there were also rows of brass rings on his legs, and armlets of white shells. at his side he wore a long slender knife and a little pouch containing the materials for betel-chewing. "yes, and he is as good as he looks," said the hermit. "his name is gurulam, and all the people of his tribe have benefited by the presence in borneo of that celebrated englishman sir james brooke,--rajah brooke as he was called,--who did so much to civilise the dyaks of borneo and to ameliorate their condition." the prophecy of moses about the professor was fulfilled. just as it was growing dark that genial scientist returned, drenched to the skin and covered with mud, having tumbled into a ditch. his knuckles also were skinned, his knees and shins damaged, and his face scratched, but he was perfectly happy in consequence of having secured a really splendid specimen of a "bootterfly" as big as his hand; the scientific name of which, for very sufficient reasons, we will not attempt to inflict on our readers, and the description of which may be shortly stated by the single word--gorgeous! being fond of verkimier, and knowing his desire to obtain a full-grown orang-utan, gurulam went off early next morning to search for one. half-a-dozen of his comrades accompanied him armed only with native spears, for their object was not to hunt the animal, but to discover one if possible, and let the professor know so that he might go after it with his rifle, for they knew that he was a keen sportsman as well as a man of science. they did not, indeed, find what they sought for, but they were told by natives with whom they fell in that a number of the animals had been seen among the tree-tops not more than a day's march into the forest. they hurried home therefore with this information, and that day--accompanied by the dyak youths, nigel, the hermit, and moses--verkimier started off in search of the mias; intending to camp out or to take advantage of a native hut if they should chance to be near one when night overtook them. descending the hill region, they soon came to more level ground, where there was a good deal of swamp, through which they passed on dyak roads. these roads consisted simply of tree-trunks laid end to end, along which the natives, being barefooted, walk with ease and certainty, but our booted hunters were obliged to proceed along them with extreme caution. the only one who came to misfortune was, as usual, the professor; and in the usual way! it occurred at the second of these tree-roads. "look, look at that remarkable insect!" exclaimed nigel, eagerly, in the innocence of his heart. the professor was in front of him; he obediently looked, saw the insect, made an eager step towards it, and next moment was flat on the swamp, while the woods rang with his companions' laughter. the remarkable insect, whatever it was, vanished from the scene, and the professor was dragged, smiling though confused, out of the bog. these things affected him little. his soul was large and rose superior to such trifles. the virgin forest into which they penetrated was of vast extent; spreading over plain, mountain, and morass in every direction for hundreds of miles, for we must remind the reader that the island of borneo is considerably larger than all the british islands put together, while its inhabitants are comparatively few. verkimier had been absolutely revelling in this forest for several months--ranging its glades, penetrating its thickets, bathing (inadvertently) in its quagmires, and maiming himself generally, with unwearied energy and unextinguishable enthusiasm; shooting, skinning, stuffing, preserving, and boiling the bones of all its inhabitants--except the human--to the great advantage of science and the immense interest and astonishment of the natives. yet with all his energy and perseverance the professor had failed, up to that time, to obtain a large specimen of a male orang-utan, though he had succeeded in shooting several small specimens and females, besides catching the young one which he had tamed. it was therefore with much excitement that he learned from a party of bees'-wax hunters, on the second morning of their expedition, that a large male mias had been seen that very day. towards the afternoon they found the spot that had been described to them, and a careful examination began. "you see," said verkimier, in a low voice, to nigel, as he went a step in advance peering up into the trees, with rifle at the "ready" and bending a little as if by that means he better avoided the chance of being seen. "you see, i came to borneo for zee express purpose of obtaining zee great man-monkey and vatching his habits.--hush! do i not hear somet'ing?" "nothing but your own voice, i think," said nigel, with a twinkle in his eye. "vell--hush! keep kviet, all of you." as the whole party marched in single file after the professor, and were at the moment absolutely silent, this order induced the display of a good many teeth. just then the man of science was seen to put his rifle quickly to the shoulder; the arches of the forest rang with a loud report; various horrified creatures were seen and heard to scamper away, and next moment a middle-sized orang-utan came crashing through the branches of a tall tree and fell dead with a heavy thud on the ground. the professor's rifle was a breechloader. he therefore lost no time in re-charging, and hurried forward as if he saw other game, while the rest of the party--except van der kemp, nigel, and gurulam--fell behind to look at and pick up the fallen animal. "look out!" whispered nigel, pointing to a bit of brown hair that he saw among the leaves high overhead. "vere? i cannot see him," whispered the naturalist, whose eyes blazed enough almost to melt his blue glasses. "do _you_ fire, mr. roy?" "my gun is charged only with small-shot, for birds. it is useless for such game," said nigel. "ach! i see!" up went the rifle and again the echoes were startled and the animal kingdom astounded, especially that portion at which the professor had fired, for there was immediately a tremendous commotion among the leaves overhead, and another orang of the largest size was seen to cross an open space and disappear among the thick foliage. evidently the creature had been hit, but not severely, for it travelled among the tree-tops at the rate of full five miles an hour, obliging the hunters to run at a rapid pace over the rough ground in order to keep up with it. in its passage from tree to tree the animal showed caution and foresight, selecting only those branches that interlaced with other boughs, so that it made uninterrupted progress, and also had a knack of always keeping masses of thick foliage underneath it so that for some time no opportunity was found of firing another shot. at last, however, it came to one of those dyak roads of which we have made mention, so that it could not easily swing from one tree to another, and the stoppage of rustling among the leaves told that the creature had halted. for some time they gazed up among the branches without seeing anything, but at last, in a place where the leaves seemed to have been thrust aside near the top of one of the highest trees, a great red hairy body was seen, and a huge black face gazed fiercely down at the hunters. verkimier fired instantly, the branches closed, and the monster moved off in another direction. in desperate anxiety nigel fired both barrels of his shot-gun. he might as well have fired at the moon. gurulam was armed only with a spear, and van der kemp, who was not much of a sportsman, carried a similar weapon. the rest of the party were still out of sight in rear looking after the dead mias. it was astonishing how little noise was made by so large an animal as it moved along. more than once the hunters had to halt and listen intently for the rustling of the leaves before they could make sure of being on the right track. at last they caught sight of him again on the top of a very high tree, and the professor got two more shots, but without bringing him down. then he was seen, quite exposed for a moment, walking in a stooping posture along the large limb of a tree, but the hunter was loading at the time and lost the chance. finally he got on to a tree whose top was covered with a dense mass of creepers which completely hid him from view. then he halted and the sound of snapping branches was heard. "you've not much chance of him now," remarked the hermit, as they all stood in a group gazing up into the tree-top. "i have often seen the mias act thus when severely wounded. he is making a nest to lie down and die in." "zen ve must shoot again," said the professor, moving round the tree and looking out for a sign of the animal. at last he seemed to have found what he wanted, for raising his rifle he took a steady aim and fired. a considerable commotion of leaves and fall of broken branches followed. then the huge red body of the mias appeared falling through, but it was not dead, for it caught hold of branches as it fell and hung on as long as it could; then it came crashing down, and alighted on its face with an awful thud. after firing the last shot verkimier had not reloaded, being too intent on watching the dying struggles of the creature, and when it fell with such violence he concluded that it was dead. for the same reason nigel had neglected to reload after firing. thus it happened that when the enormous brute suddenly rose and made for a tree with the evident intention of climbing it, no one was prepared to stop it except the dyak youth gurulam. he chanced to be standing between the mias and the tree. boldly he levelled his spear and made a thrust that would probably have killed the beast, if it had not caught the point of the spear and turned it aside. then with its left paw it caught the youth by the neck, seized his thigh with one of its hind paws, and fixed its teeth in his right shoulder. never was man rendered more suddenly and completely helpless, and death would have been his sure portion before the hunters had reloaded if van der kemp had not leaped forward, and, thrusting his spear completely through the animal's body, killed it on the spot. chapter xvi. begins with a terrible fight and ends with a hasty flight. the hunt, we need scarcely say, was abruptly terminated, and immediate preparations were made for conveying the wounded man and the two orangs to the dyak village. this was quickly arranged, for the convenient bamboo afforded ready-made poles wherewith to form a litter on which to carry them. the huge creature which had given them so much trouble, and so nearly cost them one human life, was found to be indeed of the largest size. it was not tall but very broad and large. the exact measurements, taken by the professor, who never travelled without his tape measure, were as follows:-- height from heel to top of head, feet inches. outstretched arms across chest, " " width of face, foot " girth of arm, " " girth of wrist, " the muscular power of such a creature is of course immense, as nigel and the professor had a rare chance of seeing that very evening--of which, more presently. on careful examination by nigel, who possessed some knowledge of surgery, it was found that none of gurulam's bones had been broken, and that although severely lacerated about the shoulders and right thigh, no very serious injury had been done--thanks to the promptitude and vigour of the hermit's spear-thrust. the poor youth, however, was utterly helpless for the time being, and had to be carried home. that afternoon the party reached a village in a remote part of the forest where they resolved to halt for the night, as no other resting-place could be reached before dark. while a supper of rice and fowl was being cooked by moses, van der kemp attended to the wounded man, and nigel accompanied the professor along the banks of the stream on which the village stood. having merely gone out for a stroll they carried no weapons except walking-sticks, intending to go only a short distance. interesting talk, however, on the character and habits of various animals, made them forget time until the diminution of daylight warned them to turn. they were about to do so when they observed, seated in an open place near the stream, the largest orang they had yet seen. it was feeding on succulent shoots by the water-side: a fact which surprised the professor, for his inquiries and experience had hitherto taught him that orangs never eat such food except when starving. the fat and vigorous condition in which this animal was forbade the idea of starvation. besides, it had brought a durian fruit to the banks of the stream and thrown it down, so that either taste or eccentricity must have induced it to prefer the shoots. perhaps its digestion was out of order and it required a tonic. anyhow, it continued to devour a good many young shoots while our travellers were peeping at it in mute surprise through the bushes. that they had approached so near without being observed was due to the fact that a brawling rapid flowed just there, and the mias was on the other side of the stream. by mutual consent the men crouched to watch its proceedings. they were not a little concerned, however, when the brute seized an overhanging bough, and, with what we may style sluggish agility, swung itself clumsily but lightly to their side of the stream. it picked up the durian which lay there and began to devour it. biting off some of the strong spikes with which that charming fruit is covered, it made a small hole in it, and then with its powerful fingers tore off the thick rind and began to enjoy a feast. now, with monkeys, no less than with men, there is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip, for the mias had just begun its meal, or, rather, its dessert, when a crocodile, which the professor had not observed and nigel had mistaken for a log, suddenly opened its jaws and seized the big monkey's leg. the scene that ensued baffles description! grasping the crocodile with its other three hands by nose, throat, and eyes, the mias almost performed the american operation of gouging--digging its powerful thumbs and fingers into every crevice and tearing open its assailant's jaws. the crocodile, taken apparently by surprise, went into dire convulsions, and making for deep water, plunged his foe therein over head and ears. nothing daunted, the mias regained his footing, hauled his victim on to a mudbank, and, jumping on his back began to tear and pommel him. there was nothing of the prize-fighter in the mias. he never clenched his fist--never hit straight from the shoulder, but the buffeting and slapping which he gave resounded all over the place. at last he caught hold of a fold of his opponent's throat, which he began to tear open with fingers and teeth. wrenching himself free with a supreme effort the crocodile shot into the stream and disappeared with a sounding splash of its tail, while the mias waded lamely to the shore with an expression of sulky indignation on its great black face. slowly the creature betook itself to the shelter of the forest, and we need scarcely add that the excited observers of the combat made no attempt to hinder its retreat. it is said that the python is the only other creature that dares to attack the orang-utan, and that when it does so victory usually declares for the man-monkey, which bites and tears it to death. the people of the village in which the hunters rested that night were evidently not accustomed to white men--perhaps had never seen them before--for they crowded round them while at supper and gazed in silent wonder as if they were watching a group of white-faced baboons feeding! they were, however, very hospitable, and placed before their visitors abundance of their best food without expecting anything in return. brass rings were the great ornament in this village--as they are, indeed, among the dyaks generally. many of the women had their arms completely covered with them, as well as their legs from the ankle to the knee. their petticoats were fastened to a coil of rattan, stained red, round their bodies. they also wore coils of brass wire, girdles of small silver coins, and sometimes broad belts of brass ring-armour. it was break of dawn next morning when our hunters started, bearing their wounded comrade and the dead orangs with them. arrived at the village they found the people in great excitement preparing for defence, as news had been brought to the effect that the pirates had landed at the mouth of the river, joined the disaffected band which awaited them, and that an attack might be expected without delay, for they were under command of the celebrated malay pirate baderoon. nigel observed that the countenance of his friend van der kemp underwent a peculiar change on hearing this man's name mentioned. there was a combination of anxiety, which was unnatural to him, and of resolution, which was one of his chief characteristics. "is baderoon the enemy whom you saw on the islet on our first night out?" asked nigel, during a ramble with the hermit that evening. "yes, and i fear to meet him," replied his friend in a low voice. nigel was surprised. the impression made on his mind since their intercourse was that van der kemp was incapable of the sensation of fear. "is he so very bitter against you?" asked nigel. "very," was the curt reply. "have you reason to think he would take your life if he could?" "i am sure he would. as i told you before, i have thwarted his plans more than once. when he hears that it is i who have warned the orang-kaya against him he will pursue me to the death--and--and i _must not_ meet him." "indeed!" exclaimed nigel, with renewed surprise. but the hermit took no note of the exclamation. anxiety had given place to a frown, and his eyes were fixed on the ground. it seemed to nigel so evident that he did not wish to pursue the subject, that he slightly changed it. "i suppose," he said, "that there is no fear of the dyaks of the village being unable to beat off the pirates now that they have been warned?" "none whatever. indeed, this is so well known to baderoon that i think he will abandon the attempt. but he will not abandon his designs on me. however, we must wait and see how god will order events." next morning spies returned to the village with the information that the pirates had taken their departure from the mouth of the river. "do you think this is an attempt to deceive us?" asked the chief, turning to van der kemp, when he heard the news. "i think not. and even should it be so, and they should return, you are ready and well able to meet them." "yes, ready--and _well_ able to meet them," replied the orang-kaya, drawing himself up proudly. "did they _all_ go in one direction?" asked van der kemp of the youths who had brought the news. "yes, all went in a body to the north--except one boat which rowed southward." "hm! i thought so. my friends, listen to me. this is no pretence. they do not mean to attack you now you are on your guard; but that boat which went south contains baderoon, and i feel certain that he means to hang about here till he gets the chance of killing me." "that is well," returned the chief, calmly. "my young men will hunt till they find where he is. then they will bring us the information and van der kemp will go out with a band and slay his enemy." "no, my friend," said the hermit, firmly; "that shall not be. i must get out of his way, and in order to do so will leave you at once, for there will be no further need for my services here." the chief looked at his friend in surprise. "well," he said, "you have a good judgment, and understand your own affairs. but you have already rendered me good service, and i will help you to fly--though such is not the habit of the dyaks! there is a trader's vessel to start for sumatra by the first light of day. will my friend go by that?" "i am grateful," answered the hermit, "but i need no help--save some provisions, for i have my little canoe, which will suffice." as this colloquy was conducted in the native tongue it was unintelligible to nigel, but after the interview with the chief the hermit explained matters to him, and bade moses get ready for a start several hours before dawn. "you see we must do the first part of our trip in the dark, for baderoon has a keen eye and ear. then we will land and sleep all day where the sharpest eye will fail to find us--and, luckily, pirates have been denied the power of scenting out their foes. when night comes we will start again and get out of sight of land before the next dawn." "mine frond," said the professor, turning his moon-like goggles full on the hermit. "i vill go viz you." "i should be only too happy to have your company," returned the hermit, "but my canoe cannot by any contrivance be made to hold more than three." "zat is no matter to me," rejoined verkimier; "you forget zee trader's boat. i vill go in zat to sumatra. ve vill find out zee port he is going to, ant you vill meet me zere. vait for me if i have not arrived--or i vill vait for you. i have longed to visit sumatra, ant vat better fronds could i go viz zan yourselfs?" "but, my good friend," returned the hermit, "my movements may not exactly suit yours. here they are,--you can judge for yourself. first i will, god permitting, cross over to sumatra in my canoe." "but it is t'ree hoondert miles across, if not more!" "no matter--there are plenty of islands on the way. besides, some passing vessel will give me a lift, no doubt. then i will coast along to one of the eastern ports, where i know there is a steamboat loading up about this time. the captain is an old friend of mine. he brought me and my companions the greater part of the way here. if i find him i will ask him to carry my canoe on his return voyage through sunda straits, and leave it with another friend of mine at telok betong on the south coast of sumatra--not far, as you know, from my home in krakatoa. then i will proceed overland to the same place, so that my friend nigel roy may see a little of the country." "ant vat if you do _not_ find your frond zee captain of zee steamer?" "why, then i shall have to adopt some other plan. it is the uncertainty of my movements that makes me think you should not depend on them." "zat is not'ing to me, van der kemp; you joost go as you say. i vill follow ant take my chance. i am use' to ooncertainties ant difficoolties. zey can not influence me." after a good deal of consideration this plan was agreed to. the professor spent part of the night in giving directions about the preserving of his specimens, which he meant to leave at the village in charge of a man whom he had trained to assist him, while van der kemp with his companions lay down to snatch a little sleep before setting out on their voyage, or, as the dyak chief persisted in calling it, their flight! when nigel had slept about five minutes--as he thought--he was awakened by moses. "don't make a noise, massa nadgel! dere may be spies in de camp for all we knows, so we mus' git off like mice. canoe's ready an' massa waitin'; we gib you to de last momint." in a few minutes our hero was sleepily following the negro through the woods to the spot where the canoe was in waiting. the night was very dark. this was in their favour,--at least as regarded discovery. "but how shall we ever see to make our way down stream?" asked nigel of the hermit in a whisper on reaching the place of embarkation. "the current will guide us. besides, i have studied the river with a view to this flight. be careful in getting in. now, moses, are you ready?" "all right, massa." "shove off, then." there was something so eerie in the subdued tones, and stealthy motions, and profound darkness, that nigel could not help feeling as if they were proceeding to commit some black and criminal deed! floating with the current, with as little noise as possible, and having many a narrow escape of running against points of land and sandbanks, they flew swiftly towards the sea, so that dawn found them among the mud flats and the mangrove swamps. here they found a spot where mangrove roots and bushes formed an impenetrable screen, behind which they spent the day, chiefly in sleep, and in absolute security. when darkness set in they again put forth, and cautiously clearing the river's mouth, were soon far out on the open sea, which was fortunately calm at the time, the slight air that blew being in their favour. "we are safe from pursuit now," said van der kemp in a tone of satisfaction, as they paused for a breathing spell. "o massa!" exclaimed moses at that moment, in a voice of consternation; "we's forgotten spinkie!" "so we have!" returned the hermit in a voice of regret so profound that nigel could scarce restrain a laugh in spite of his sympathy. but spinkie had not forgotten himself. observing probably, that these night expeditions were a change in his master's habits, he had kept an unusually watchful eye on the canoe, so that when it was put in the water, he had jumped on board unseen in the darkness, and had retired to the place where he usually slept under hatches when the canoe travelled at night. awakened from refreshing sleep at the sound of his name, spinkie emerged suddenly from the stern-manhole, right under the negro's nose, and with a sleepy "oo, oo!" gazed up into his face. "ho! dare you is, you mis'rible hyperkrite!" exclaimed moses, kissing the animal in the depth of his satisfaction. "he's here, massa, all right. now, you go to bed agin, you small bundle ob hair." the creature retired obediently to its place, and laying its little cheek on one of its small hands, committed itself to repose. van der kemp was wrong when he said they were safe. a pirate scout had seen the canoe depart. being alone and distant from the rendezvous of his commander, some time elapsed before the news could be conveyed to him. when baderoon was at length informed and had sailed out to sea in pursuit, returning daylight showed him that his intended victim had escaped. chapter xvii. tells of the joys, etc., of the professor in the sumatran forests, also of a catastrophe averted. fortunately the weather continued fine at first, and the light wind fair, so that the canoe skimmed swiftly over the wide sea that separates borneo from sumatra. sometimes our travellers proceeded at night when the distance between islets compelled them to do so. at other times they landed on one of these isles when opportunity offered to rest and replenish the water-casks. we will not follow them step by step in this voyage, which occupied more than a week, and during which they encountered without damage several squalls in which a small open boat could not have lived. beaching at last the great island of sumatra--which, like its neighbour borneo, is larger in extent than the british islands--they coasted along southwards, without further delay than was absolutely necessary for rest and refreshment, until they reached a port where they found the steamer of which they were in search just about to start on its return voyage. van der kemp committed his little craft to the care of the captain, who, after vainly advising his friend to take a free passage with him to the straits of sunda, promised to leave the canoe in passing at telok betong. we may add that spinkie was most unwillingly obliged to accompany the canoe. "now, we must remain here till our friend verkimier arrives," said the hermit, turning to nigel after they had watched the steamer out of sight. "i suppose we must," said nigel, who did not at all relish the delay--"of course we must," he added with decision. "i sees no 'ob course' about it, massa nadgel," observed moses, who never refrained from offering his opinion from motives of humility, or of respect for his employer. "my 'dvice is to go on an' let de purfesser foller." "but i promised to wait for him," said the hermit, with one of his kindly, half-humorous glances, "and you know i _never_ break my promises." "das true, massa, but you di'n't promise to wait for him for eber an' eber!" "not quite; but of course i meant that i would wait a reasonable time." the negro appeared to meditate for some moments on the extent of a "reasonable" time, for his huge eyes became huger as he gazed frowningly at the ground. then he spoke. "a 'reasonable' time, massa, is such an oncertain time--wariable, so to speak, accordin' to the mind that t'inks upon it! hows'eber, if you's _promised,_ ob coorse dat's an end ob it; for w'en a man promises, he's bound to stick to it." such devotion to principle was appropriately rewarded the very next day by the arrival of the trading prau in which the professor had embarked. "we did not expect you nearly so soon," said nigel, as they heartily shook hands. "it vas because zee vind freshen soon after ve set sail--ant, zen, ve made a straight line for zis port, w'ereas you possibly crossed over, ant zen push down zee coast." "exactly so, and that accounts for your overtaking us," said the hermit. "is that the lad baso i see down there with the crew of the prau?" "it is. you must have some strainch power of attracting frondship, van der kemp, for zee poor yout' is so fond of you zat he beg ant entreat me to take him, ant he says he vill go on vit zee traders if you refuse to let him follow you." "well, he may come. indeed, we shall be the better for his services, for i had intended to hire a man here to help to carry our things. much of our journeying, you see, must be done on foot." baso, to his great joy, thus became one of the party. we pass over the next few days, which were spent in arranging and packing their provisions, etc., in such a way that each member of the party should carry on his shoulders a load proportioned to his strength. in this arrangement the professor, much against his will, was compelled to accept the lightest load in consideration of his liability to dart off in pursuit of creeping things and "bootterflies" at a moment's notice. the least damageable articles were also assigned to him in consideration of his tendency at all times to tumble into bogs and stumble over fallen trees, and lose himself, and otherwise get into difficulties. we also pass over part of the journey from the coast, and plunge with our travellers at once into the interior of sumatra. one evening towards sunset they reached the brow of an eminence which, being rocky, was free from much wood, and permitted of a wide view of the surrounding country. it was covered densely with virgin forest, and they ascended the eminence in order that the hermit, who had been there before, might discover a forest road which led to a village some miles off, where they intended to put up for the night. having ascertained his exact position, van der kemp led his followers down to this footpath, which led through the dense forest. the trees by which they were surrounded were varied and magnificent--some of them rising clear up seventy and eighty feet without a branch, many of them had superb leafy crowns, under any one of which hundreds of men might have found shelter. others had trunks and limbs warped and intertwined with a wild entanglement of huge creepers, which hung in festoons and loops as if doing their best to strangle their supports, themselves being also encumbered, or adorned, with ferns and orchids, and delicate twining epiphytes. a forest of smaller trees grew beneath this shade, and still lower down were thorny shrubs, rattan-palms, broad-leaved bushes, and a mass of tropical herbage which would have been absolutely impenetrable but for the native road or footpath along which they travelled. "a most suitable abode for tigers, i should think," remarked nigel to the hermit, who walked in front of him--for they marched in single file. "are there any in these parts?" "ay, plenty. indeed, it is because i don't like sleeping in their company that i am so anxious to reach a village." "are zey dangerows?" asked the professor, who followed close on nigel. "well, they are not safe!" replied the hermit. "i had an adventure with one on this very road only two years ago." "indeed! vat vas it?" asked the professor, whose appetite for anecdote was insatiable. "do tell us about it." "with pleasure. it was on a pitch-dark night that it occurred. i had occasion to go to a neighbouring village at a considerable distance, and borrowed a horse from a friend----" "anozer frond!" exclaimed the professor; "vy, van der kemp, zee country seems to be svarming vid your fronds." "i have travelled much in it and made many friends," returned the hermit. "the horse that i borrowed turned out to be a very poor one, and went lame soon after i set out. business kept me longer than i expected, and it was getting dark before i started to return. erelong the darkness became so intense that i could scarcely see beyond the horse's head, and could not distinguish the path. i therefore let the animal find his own way--knowing that he would be sure to do so, for he was going home. as we jogged along, i felt the horse tremble. then he snorted and came to a dead stop, with his feet planted firmly on the ground. i was quite unarmed, but arms would have been useless in the circumstances. suddenly, and fortunately, the horse reared, and next moment a huge dark object shot close past my face--so close that its fur brushed my cheek--as it went with a heavy thud into the jungle on the other side. i knew that it was a tiger and felt that my life, humanly speaking, was due to the rearing of the poor horse." "are ve near to zee spote?" asked the professor, glancing from side to side in some anxiety. "not far from it!" replied the hermit, "but there is not much fear of such an attack in broad daylight and with so large a party." "ve are not a very large party," returned the professor. "i do not zink i would fear much to face a tiger vid my goot rifle, but i do not relish his choomping on me unavares. push on, please." they pushed on and reached the village a little before nightfall. hospitality is a characteristic of the natives of sumatra. the travellers were received with open arms, so to speak, and escorted to the public building which corresponds in some measure to our western town-halls. it was a huge building composed largely of bamboo wooden-planks and wicker-work, with a high thatched roof, and it stood, like all the other houses, on posts formed of great tree-stems which rose eight or ten feet from the ground. "you have frunds here too, i zink," said verkimier to the hermit, as they ascended the ladder leading to the door of the hall. "well, yes--i believe i have two or three." there could be no doubt upon that point, unless the natives were consummate hypocrites, for they welcomed van der kemp and his party with effusive voice, look and gesture, and immediately spread before them part of a splendid supper which had just been prepared; for they had chanced to arrive on a festive occasion. "i do believe," said nigel in some surprise, "that they are lighting up the place with petroleum lamps!" "ay, and you will observe that they are lighting the lamps with congreve matches--at least with matches of the same sort, supplied by the dutch and chinese. many of their old customs have passed away (among others that of procuring fire by friction), and now we have the appliances of western civilisation to replace them." "no doubt steam is zee cause of zee change," remarked the professor. "that," said nigel, "has a good deal to do with most things--from the singing of a tea-kettle to the explosion of a volcano; though, doubtless, the commercial spirit which is now so strong among men is the proximate cause." "surely dese people mus' be reech," said the professor, looking round him with interest. "they are rich enough--and well off in every respect, save that they don't know very well how to make use of their riches. as you see, much of their wealth is lavished on their women in the shape of ornaments, most of which are of solid gold and silver." there could be little doubt about that, for, besides the ornaments proper, such as the bracelets and rings with which the arms of the young women were covered, and earrings, etc.,--all of solid gold and native-made--there were necklaces and collars composed of spanish and american dollars and british half-crowns and other coins. in short, these sumatran young girls carried much of the wealth of their parents on their persons, and were entitled to wear it until they should be relegated to the ranks of the married--the supposed-to-be unfrivolous, and the evidently unadorned! as this was a region full of birds, beasts, and insects of many kinds, it was resolved, for the professor's benefit, that a few days should be spent in it. accordingly, the village chief set apart a newly-built house for the visitors' accommodation, and a youth named grogo was appointed to wait on them and act as guide when they wished to traverse any part of the surrounding forest. the house was on the outskirts of the village, a matter of satisfaction to the professor, as it enabled him at once to plunge into his beloved work unobserved by the youngsters. it also afforded him a better opportunity of collecting moths, etc., by the simple method of opening his window at night. a mat or wicker-work screen divided the hut into two apartments, one of which was entirely given over to the naturalist and his _matériel_. "i vil begin at vonce," said the eager man, on taking possession. and he kept his word by placing his lamp on a table in a conspicuous position, so that it could be well seen from the outside. then he threw his window wide open, as a general invitation to the insect world to enter! moths, flying beetles, and other creatures were not slow to accept the invitation. they entered by twos, fours, sixes--at last by scores, insomuch that the room became uninhabitable except by the man himself, and his comrades soon retired to their own compartment, leaving him to carry on his work alone. "you enjoy this sort of thing?" said nigel, as he was about to retire. "enchoy it? yes--it is 'paradise regained'!" he pinned a giant moth at the moment and gazed triumphant through his blue glasses. "'paradise lost' to the moth, anyhow," said nigel with a nod, as he bade him good-night, and carefully closed the wicker door to check the incursions of uncaptured specimens. being rather tired with the day's journey, he lay down on a mat beside the hermit, who was already sound asleep. but our hero found that sleep was not easily attainable so close to an inexhaustible enthusiast, whose every step produced a rattling of the bamboo floor, and whose unwearied energy enabled him to hunt during the greater part of the night. at length slumber descended on nigel's spirit, and he lay for some time in peaceful oblivion, when a rattling crash awoke him. sitting up he listened, and came to the conclusion that the professor had upset some piece of furniture, for he could hear him distinctly moving about in a stealthy manner, as if on tip-toe, giving vent to a grumble of dissatisfaction every now and then. "what _can_ he be up to now, i wonder?" murmured the disturbed youth, sleepily. the hermit, who slept through all noises with infantine simplicity, made no answer, but a peculiar snort from the negro, who lay not far off on his other side, told that he was struggling with a laugh. "hallo, moses! are you awake?" asked nigel, in a low voice. "ho yes, massa nadgel. i's bin wakin' a good while, larfin fit to bu'st my sides. de purfesser's been agoin' on like a mad renoceros for more 'n an hour. he's arter suthin, which he can't ketch. listen! you hear 'im goin' round an' round on his tip-toes. dere goes anoder chair. i only hope he won't smash de lamp an' set de house a-fire." "veil, veil; i've missed him zee tence time. nevair mind. have at you vonce more, you aggravating leetle zing!" thus the unsuccessful man relieved his feelings, in a growling tone, as he continued to move about on tip-toe, rattling the bamboo flooring in spite of his careful efforts to move quietly. "why, verkimier, what are you after?" cried nigel at last, loud enough to be heard through the partition. "ah! i am sorry to vake you," he replied, without, however, suspending his hunt. "i have tried my best to make no noice, but zee bamboo floor is--hah! i have 'im at last!" "what is it?" asked nigel, becoming interested. "von leetle bat. he come in vis a moss----" "a what?" "a moss--a big, beautiful moss." "oh! a moth--well?" "vell, i shut zee window, capture zee moss, ant zen i hunt zee bat vith my bootterfly-net for an hour, but have only captured him zis moment. ant he is--sooch a--sooch a splendid specimen of a _very_ rar' species, zee _coelops frizii_--gootness! zere goes zee lamp!" the crash that followed told too eloquently of the catastrophe, and broke the slumbers even of the hermit. the whole party sprang up, and entered the naturalist's room with a light, for the danger from fire was great. fortunately the lamp had been extinguished in its fall, so that, beyond an overpowering smell of petroleum and the destruction of a good many specimens, no serious results ensued. after securing the _coelops frithii_, removing the shattered glass, wiping up the oil, and putting chairs and tables on their legs, the professor was urged to go to bed,--advice which, in his excitement, he refused to take until it was suggested that, if he did not, he would be totally unfit for exploring the forest next day. "vy, it is next day already!" he exclaimed, consulting his watch. "just so. now _do_ turn in." "i vill." and he did. chapter xviii. a trying ordeal--danger threatens and flight again resolved on. when the early birds are singing, and the early mists are scattering, and the early sun is rising to gladden, as with the smile of god, all things with life in earth and sea and sky--then it is that early-rising man goes forth to reap the blessings which his lazy fellow-man fails to appreciate or enjoy. among the early risers that morning was our friend moses. gifted with an inquiring mind, the negro had proceeded to gratify his propensities by making inquiries of a general nature, and thus had acquired, among other things, the particular information that the river on the banks of which the village stood was full of fish. now, moses was an ardent angler. "i lub fishing," he said one day to nigel when in a confidential mood; "i can't tell you how much i lub it. seems to me dat der's nuffin' like it for proggin' a man!" when nigel demanded an explanation of what proggin' meant, moses said he wasn't quite sure. he could "understand t'ings easy enough though he couldn't allers 'splain 'em." on the whole he thought that prog had a compound meaning--it was a combination of poke and pull "wid a flavour ob ticklin' about it," and was rather pleasant. "you see," he continued, "when a leetle fish plays wid your hook, it progs your intellec' an' tickles up your fancy a leetle. when he grabs you, dat progs your hopes a good deal. when a big fish do de same, dat progs you deeper. an' when a real walloper almost pulls you into de ribber, dat progs your heart up into your t'roat, where it stick till you land him." with surroundings and capacities such as we have attempted to describe, it is no wonder that moses sat down on the river-bank and enjoyed himself, in company with a little malay boy, who lent him his bamboo rod and volunteered to show him the pools. but there were no particular pools in that river it was a succession of pools, and fish swarmed in all of them. there were at least fifteen different species which nothing short of an ichthyologist could enumerate correctly. the line used by moses was a single fibre of bark almost as strong as gut; the hook was a white tinned weapon like a small anchor, supplied by traders, and meant originally for service in the deep sea. the bait was nothing in particular, but as the fish were not particular that was of no consequence. the reader will not be surprised, then, when we state that in an hour or so moses had had his heart progged considerably and had filled a large bag with superb fish, with which he returned, perspiring, beaming, and triumphant to breakfast. after breakfast the whole party went forth for what verkimier styled "zee business of zee day," armed with guns, spears, botanical boxes, bags, wallets, and butterfly nets. in the immediate neighbourhood of the village large clearings in the forest were planted as coffee gardens, each separated from the other for the purpose of isolation, for it seems that coffee, like the potato, is subject to disease. being covered with scarlet flowers these gardens had a fine effect on the landscape when seen from the heights behind the village. passing through the coffee grounds the party was soon in the tangled thickets of underwood through which many narrow paths had been cut. we do not intend to drag our readers through bog and brake during the whole of this day's expedition; suffice it to say that the collection of specimens made, of all kinds, far surpassed the professor's most sanguine expectations, and, as for the others, those who could more or less intelligently sympathise did so, while those who could not were content with the reflected joy of the man of science. at luncheon--which they partook of on the river-bank, under a magnificently umbrageous tree--plans for the afternoon were fixed. "we have kept together long enough, i think," said van der kemp. "those of us who have guns must shoot something to contribute to the national feast on our return." "vell, let us divide," assented the amiable naturalist. indeed he was so happy that he would have assented to anything--except giving up the hunt. "von party can go von vay, anoder can go anoder vay. i vill continue mine business. zee place is more of a paradise zan zee last. ve must remain two or tree veeks." the hermit glanced at nigel. "i fear it is impossible for me to do so," said the latter. "i am pledged to return to batavia within a specified time, and from the nature of the country i perceive it will take all the time at my disposal to reach that place so as to redeem my pledge." "ha! zat is a peety. vell, nevair mind. let us enchoy to-day. com', ve must not vaste more of it in zee mere gratification of our animal natures." acting on this broad hint they all rose and scattered in different groups--the professor going off ahead of his party in his eager haste, armed only with a butterfly net. now, as the party of natives,--including baso, who carried the professor's biggest box, and grogo, who bore his gun,--did not overtake their leader, they concluded that he must have joined one of the other parties, and, as it was impossible to ascertain which of them, they calmly went hunting on their own account! thus it came to pass that the man of science was soon lost in the depths of that primeval forest! but little cared the enthusiast for that--or, rather, little did he realise it. with perspiration streaming from every pore--except where the pores were stopped by mud--he dashed after "bootterflies" with the wisdom of solomon and the eagerness of a school-boy, and not until the shades of evening began to descend did his true position flash upon him. then, with all the vigour of a powerful intellect and an enlightened mind, he took it in at a glance--and came to a sudden halt. "vat _shall_ i do?" he asked. not even an echo answered, and the animal kingdom was indifferent. "lat me see. i have been vandering avay all dis time. now, i have not'ing to do but right-about-face and vander back." could reasoning be clearer or more conclusive? he acted on it at once, but, after wandering back a long time, he did not arrive at any place or object that he had recognised on the outward journey. meanwhile, as had been appointed, the rest of the party met a short time before dark at the rendezvous where they had lunched. "where is the professor, baso?" asked van der kemp as he came up. baso did not know, and looked at grogo, who also professed ignorance, but both said they thought the professor had gone with nigel. "i thought he was with _you_," said the latter, looking anxiously at the hermit. "he's goed an' lost hisself!" cried moses with a look of concern. van der kemp was a man of action. "not a moment to lose," he said, and organised the band into several smaller parties, each led by a native familiar with the jungle. "let this be our meeting-place," he said, as they were on the point of starting off together; "and let those of us who have fire-arms discharge them occasionally." meanwhile, the professor was walking at full speed in what he supposed to be--and in truth was--"back." he was not alone, however. in the jungle close beside him a tiger prowled along with the stealthy, lithe, sneaking activity of a cat. by that time it was not absolutely dark, but the forest had assumed a very sombre appearance. suddenly the tiger made a tremendous bound on to the track right in front of the man. whether it had miscalculated the position of its intended victim or not we cannot say, but it crouched for another spring. the professor, almost instinctively, crouched also, and, being a brave man, stared the animal straight in the face without winking! and so the two crouched there, absolutely motionless and with a fixed glare, such as we have often seen in a couple of tom-cats who were mutually afraid to attack each other. what the tiger thought at that critical and crucial moment we cannot tell, but the professor's thoughts were swift, varied, tremendous--almost sublime, and once or twice even ridiculous! "vat shall i do? deaf stares me in zee face! no veapons! only a net, ant he is _not_ a bootterfly! science, adieu! home of my chilthood, farevell! my moder--hah! zee fusees!" such were a few of the thoughts that burned but found no utterance. the last thought however led to action. verkimier, foolish man! was a smoker. he carried fusees. slowly, with no more apparent motion than the hour-hand on the face of a watch, he let his hand glide into his coat-pocket and took out the box of fusees. the tiger seemed uneasy, but the bold man never for one instant ceased to glare, and no disturbed expression or hasty movement gave the tiger the slightest excuse for a spring. bringing the box up by painfully slow degrees in front of his nose the man opened it, took out a fusee, struck it, and revealed the blue binoculars! the effect on the tiger was instantaneous and astounding. with a demi-volt or backward somersault it hurled itself into the jungle whence it had come with a terrific roar of alarm, and its tail--undoubtedly though not evidently--between its legs! heaving a deep, long-drawn sigh, the professor stood up and wiped his forehead. then he listened intently. "a shote, if mine ears deceive me not!" he said, and listened again. he was right. another shot, much nearer, was heard, and he replied with a shout to which joy as much as strength of lung gave fervour. hurrying along the track--not without occasional side-glances at the jungle--the hero was soon again in the midst of his friends; and it was not until his eyes refused to remain open any longer that he ceased to entertain an admiring circle that night with the details of his face-to-face meeting with a tiger. but verkimier's anticipations in regard to that paradise were not to be realised. the evil passions of a wicked man, with whom he had personally nothing whatever to do, interfered with his plans. in the middle of the night a native malay youth named babu arrived at the village and demanded an interview with the chief. that worthy, after the interview, conducted the youth to the hut where his visitors lived, and, rousing van der kemp without disturbing the others, bade him listen to what the young man had to say. an expression of great anxiety overspread the hermit's usually placid countenance while babu was speaking. "it is fate!" he murmured, as if communing with himself--then, after a pause--"no, there is no such thing as fate. it is, it must be, the will of god. go, young man, mention this to no one. i thank you for the kindness which made you take so long a journey for my sake." "it is not kindness, it is love that makes me serve you," returned the lad earnestly. "every one loves you, van der kemp, because that curse of mankind, _revenge_, has no place in your breast." "strange! how little man does know or guess the secret thoughts of his fellow!" said the hermit with one of his pitiful smiles. "_revenge_ no place in me!--but i thank you, boy, for the kind thought as well as the effort to save me. my life is not worth much to any one. it will not matter, i think, if my enemy should succeed. go now, babu, and god be with you!" "he will surely succeed if you do not leave this place at once," rejoined the youth, in a tone of decision. "baderoon is furious at all times. he is worse than ever just now, because you have thwarted his plans--so it is said--very often. if he knew that _i_ am now thwarting them also, he would hunt me to death. i will not leave you till you are safe beyond his reach." the hermit looked at the lad with kindly surprise. "how comes it," he said, "that you are so much interested in me? i remember seeing you two years ago, but have no recollection of having done you any service." "do you not remember that my mother was ill when you spent a night in our hut, and my little sister was dying? you nursed her, and tried your best to save her, and when you could not save her, and she died, you wept as if the child had been your own. i do not forget that, van der kemp. sympathy is of more value than service." "strangely mistaken again!" murmured the hermit. "who can know the workings of the human mind! self was mixed with my feelings--profoundly--yet my sympathy with you and your mother was sincere." "we never doubted that," returned babu with a touch of surprise in his tone. "well now, what do you propose to do, as you refuse to leave me?" asked the hermit with some curiosity. "i will go on with you to the next village. it is a large one. the chief man there is my uncle, who will aid me, i know, in any way i wish. i will tell him what i know and have heard of the pirate's intention, of which i have proof. he will order baderoon to be arrested on suspicion when he arrives. then we will detain him till you are beyond his reach. that is not unjust." "true--and i am glad to know by your last words that you are sensitive about the justice of what you propose to do. indifference to pure and simple justice is the great curse of mankind. it is not indeed the root, but it is the fruit of our sins. the suspicion that detains baderoon is more than justified, for i could bring many witnesses to prove that he has vowed to take my life, and i _know_ him to be a murderer." at breakfast-time van der kemp announced to his friends his intention of quitting the village at once, and gave an account of his interview with the malay lad during the night. this, of course, reconciled them to immediate departure,--though, in truth, the professor was the only one who required to be reconciled. "it is _very_ misfortunate," he remarked with a sigh, which had difficulty in escaping through a huge mass of fish and rice. "you see zee vonderful variety of ornizological specimens i could find here, ant zee herbareum, not to mention zee magnificent _amblypodia eumolpus_ ant ozer bootterflies--ach!-a leetle mor' feesh if you please. zanks. my frond, it is a great sacrifice, but i vill go avay viz you, for i could not joostify myself if i forzook you, ant i cannot ask you to remain vile your life is in dancher." "i appreciate your sentiments and sacrifice thoroughly," said the hermit. "so does i," said moses, helping himself to coffee; "but ob course if i didn't it would be all de same. pass de venison, massa nadgel, an' don't look as if you was goin' to gib in a'ready. it spoils my appetite." "you will have opportunities," continued van der kemp, addressing the professor, "to gather a good many specimens as we go along. besides, if you will consent to honour my cave in krakatoa with a visit, i promise you a hearty welcome and an interesting field of research. you have no idea what a variety of species in all the branches of natural history my little island contains." hereupon the hermit proceeded to enter into details of the flora, fauna, and geology of his island-home, and to expatiate in such glowing language on its arboreal and herbal wealth and beauty, that the professor became quite reconciled to immediate departure. "but how," he asked, "am i to get zere ven ve reach zee sea-coast? for your canoe holds only t'ree, as you have told me." "there are plenty of boats to be had. besides, i can send over my own boat for you to the mainland. the distance is not great." "goot. zat vill do. i am happay now." "so," remarked nigel as he went off with moses to pack up, "his 'paradise regained' is rather speedily to be changed into paradise forsaken! 'off wi' the old love and on wi' the new.' 'the expulsive power of a new affection!'" "das true, massa nadgel," observed moses, who entertained profound admiration for anything that sounded like proverbial philosophy. "de purfesser am an affectionit creeter. 'pears to me dat he lubs de whole creation. he kills an' tenderly stuffs 'most eberyt'ing he kin lay hands on. if he could only lay hold ob baderoon an' stuff an' stick him in a moozeum, he'd do good service to my massa an' also to de whole ob mankind." chapter xix. a terrible murder and a strange revelation. after letting the chief of the village know that the news just received rendered it necessary that they should proceed at once to the next town--but carefully refraining from going into particulars lest baderoon should by any means be led to suspect their intentions--the party started off about daybreak under the guidance of the malay youth babu. anxious as he was that no evil should befall his friend, nigel could not help wondering that a man of such a calm spirit, and such unquestionable courage, should be so anxious to escape from this pirate. "i can't understand it at all," he said to moses, as they walked through the forest together a little in rear of the party. "no more kin i, massa nadgel," answered the negro, with one of those shakes of the head and glares of solemn perplexity with which he was wont to regard matters that were too deep for him. "surely van der kemp is well able to take care of himself against any single foe." "das true, massa nadgel,--'gainst any half-dozen foes as well." "fear, therefore, cannot be the cause." the negro received this with a quiet chuckle. "no," said he. "massa nebber knowed fear, but ob dis you may be bery sure, massa's _allers_ got good reasons for what he does. one t'ing's sartin, i neber saw him do nuffin for fear, nor revenge, nor anger, no, nor yet for fun; allers for lub--and," added moses, after a moment's thought, "sometimes for money, when we goes on a tradin' 'spidition--but he don't make much account ob dat." "well, perhaps the mystery may be cleared up in time," said nigel, as they closed up with the rest of the party, who had halted for a short rest and some refreshment. this last consisted largely of fruit, which was abundant everywhere, and a little rice with water from sparkling springs to wash it down. in the afternoon they reached the town--a large one, with a sort of market-place in the centre, which at the time of their arrival was crowded with people. strangers, especially europeans, were not often seen in that region, so that van der kemp and his friends at once attracted a considerable number of followers. among these was one man who followed them about very unobtrusively, usually hanging well in rear of the knot of followers whose curiosity was stronger than their sense of propriety. this man wore a broad sun-hat and had a bandage round his head pulled well over one eye, as if he had recently met with an accident or been wounded. he was unarmed, with the exception of the kriss, or long knife, which every man in that region carries. this was no other than baderoon himself, who had outwitted his enemies, had somehow discovered at least part of their plans, and had hurried on in advance of them to the town, where, disguising himself as described, he awaited their arrival. babu conducted his friends to the presence of his kinsman the chief man of the town, and, having told his story, received a promise that the pirate should be taken up when he arrived and put in prison. meanwhile he appointed to the party a house in which to spend the night. baderoon boldly accompanied the crowd that followed them, saw the house, glanced between the heads of curious natives who watched the travellers while eating their supper, and noted the exact spot on the floor of the building where van der kemp threw down his mat and blanket, thus taking possession of his intended couch! he did not, however, see that the hermit afterwards shifted his position a little, and that babu, desiring to be near his friend, lay down on the vacated spot. in the darkest hour of the night, when even the owls and bats had sought repose, the pirate captain stole out of the brake in which he had concealed himself, and, kriss in hand, glided under the house in which his enemy lay. native houses, as we have elsewhere explained, are usually built on posts, so that there is an open space under the floors, which is available as a store or lumber-room. it is also unfortunately available for evil purposes. the bamboo flooring is not laid so closely but that sounds inside may be heard distinctly by any one listening below. voices were heard by the pirate as he approached, which arrested his steps. they were those of van der kemp and nigel engaged in conversation. baderoon knew that as long as his enemy was awake and conversing he might probably be sitting up and not in a position suitable to his fell purpose. he crouched therefore among some lumber like a tiger abiding its time. "why are you so anxious not to meet this man?" asked nigel, who was resolved, if possible without giving offence, to be at the bottom of the mystery. for some moments the hermit was silent, then in a constrained voice he said slowly-- "because revenge burns fiercely in my breast. i have striven to crush it, but cannot. i fear to meet him lest i kill him." "has he, then, done you such foul wrong?" "ay, he has cruelly--fiendishly--done the worst he could. he robbed me of my only child--but i may not talk of it. the unholy desire for vengeance burns more fiercely when i talk. 'vengeance is mine, saith the lord.' my constant prayer is that i may not meet him. good-night." as the hermit thus put an abrupt end to the conversation he lay down and drew his blanket over him. nigel followed his example, wondering at what he had heard, and in a few minutes their steady regular breathing told that they were both asleep. then baderoon advanced and counted the bamboo planks from the side towards the centre of the house. when looking between the heads of the people he had counted the same planks above. standing under one he looked up, listened intently for a few seconds, and drew his kriss. the place was almost pitch dark, yet the blade caught a faint gleam from without, which it reflected on the pirate's face as he thrust the long keen weapon swiftly, yet deliberately, between the bamboos. a shriek, that filled those who heard it with a thrill of horror, rang out on the silent night. at the same moment a gush of warm blood poured over the murderer's face before he could leap aside. instant uproar and confusion burst out in the neighbourhood, and spread like wildfire until the whole town was aroused. when a light was procured and the people crowded into the hut where the strangers lay, van der kemp was found on his knees holding the hand of poor babu, who was at his last gasp. a faint smile, that yet seemed to have something of gladness in it, flitted across his pale face as he raised himself, grasped the hermit's hand and pressed it to his lips. then the fearful drain of blood took effect and he fell back--dead. one great convulsive sob burst from the hermit as he leaped up, drew his knife, and, with a fierce glare in his blue eyes, rushed out of the room. vengeance would indeed have been wreaked on baderoon at that moment if the hermit had caught him, but, as might have been expected, the murderer was nowhere to be found. he was hid in the impenetrable jungle, which it was useless to enter in the darkness of night. when daybreak enabled the townspeople to undertake an organised search, no trace of him could be discovered. flight, personal safety, formed no part of the pirate's plan. the guilty man had reached that state of depravity which, especially among the natives of that region, borders close on insanity. while the inhabitants of the village were hunting far a-field for him, baderoon lay concealed among some lumber in rear of a hut awaiting his opportunity. it was not very long of coming. towards afternoon the various searching parties began to return, and all assembled in the market-place, where the chief man, with the hermit and his party, were assembled discussing the situation. "i will not now proceed until we have buried poor babu," said van der kemp. "besides, baderoon will be sure to return. i will meet him now." "i do not agree viz you, mine frond," said the professor. "zee man is not a fool zough he is a villain. he knows vat avaits him if he comes." "he will not come openly," returned the hermit, "but he will not now rest till he has killed me." even as he spoke a loud shouting, mingled with shrieks and yells, was heard at the other end of the main street. the sounds of uproar appeared to approach, and soon a crowd of people was seen rushing towards the market-place, uttering cries of fear in which the word "a-mok" was heard. at the sound of that word numbers of people--specially women and children--turned and fled from the scene, but many of the men stood their ground, and all of them drew their krisses. among the latter of course were the white men and their native companions. we have already referred to that strange madness, to which the malays seem to be peculiarly liable, during the paroxysms of which those affected by it rush in blind fury among their fellows, slaying right and left. from the terrified appearance of some of the approaching crowd and the maniac shouts in rear, it was evident that a man thus possessed of the spirit of amok was venting his fury on them. another minute and he drew near, brandishing a kriss that dripped with the gore of those whom he had already stabbed. catching sight of the white men he made straight for them. he was possessed of only one eye, but that one seemed to concentrate and flash forth the fire of a dozen eyes, while his dishevelled hair and blood-stained face and person gave him an appalling aspect. "it is baderoon!" said van der kemp in a subdued but stern tone. nigel, who stood next to him, glanced at the hermit. his face was deadly pale; his eyes gleamed with a strange, almost unearthly light, and his lips were firmly compressed. with a sudden nervous motion, unlike his usually calm demeanour, he drew his long knife, and to nigel's surprise cast it away from him. at that moment a woman who came in the madman's way was stabbed by him to the heart and rent the air with her dying shriek as she fell. no one could have saved her, the act was so quickly done. van der kemp would have leaped to her rescue, but it was too late; besides, there was no need to do so now, for the maniac, recognising his enemy, rushed at him with a shout that sounded like a triumphant yell. seeing this, and that his friend stood unarmed, as well as unmoved, regarding baderoon with a fixed gaze, nigel stepped a pace in advance to protect him, but van der kemp seized his arm and thrust him violently aside. next moment the pirate was upon him with uplifted knife, but the hermit caught his wrist, and with a heave worthy of samson hurled him to the ground, where he lay for a moment quite stunned. before he could recover, the natives, who had up to this moment held back, sprang upon the fallen man with revengeful yells, and a dozen knives were about to be buried in his breast when the hermit sprang forward to protect his enemy from their fury. but the man whose wife had been the last victim came up at the moment, and led an irresistible rush which bore back the hermit as well as his comrades, who had crowded round him, and in another minute the maniac was almost hacked to pieces. "i did not kill him--thank god!" muttered van der kemp as he left the market-place, where the relatives of those who had been murdered were wailing over their dead. after this event even the professor was anxious to leave the place, so that early next morning the party resumed their journey, intending to make a short stay at the next village. failing to reach it that night, however, they were compelled to encamp in the woods. fortunately they came upon a hill which, although not very high, was sufficiently so, with the aid of watch-fires, to protect them from tigers. from the summit, which rose just above the tree-tops, they had a magnificent view of the forest. many of the trees were crowned with flowers among which the setting sun shone for a brief space with glorious effulgence. van der kemp and nigel stood together apart from the others, contemplating the wonderful scene. "what must be the dwelling-place of the creator himself when his footstool is so grand?" said the hermit in a low voice. "that is beyond mortal ken," said nigel. "true--true. eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor mind conceived it. yet, methinks, the glory of the terrestrial was meant to raise our souls to the contemplation of the celestial." "and yet how signally it has failed in the case of baderoon," returned nigel, with a furtive glance at the hermit, whose countenance had quite recovered its look of quiet simple dignity. "would it be presumptuous if i were to ask why it is that this pirate had such bitter enmity against you?" "it is no secret," answered the hermit, in a sad tone. "the truth is, i had discovered some of his nefarious plans, and more than once have been the means of preventing his intended deeds of violence--as in the case of the dyaks whom we have so lately visited. besides, the man had done me irreparable injury, and it is one of the curious facts of human experience that sometimes those who injure us hate us because they have done so." "may i venture to ask for a fuller account of the injury he did you?" said nigel with some hesitancy. for some moments the hermit did not answer. he was evidently struggling with some suppressed feeling. turning a look full upon his young friend, he at length spoke in a low sad voice-- "i have never mentioned my grief to mortal man since that day when it pleased god to draw a cloud of thickest darkness over my life. but, nigel, there is that in you which encourages confidence. i confess that more than once i have been tempted to tell you of my grief--for human hearts crave intelligent sympathy. my faithful servant and friend moses is, no doubt, intensely sympathetic, but--but--well, i cannot understand, still less can i explain, why i shrink from making a confidant of him. certainly it is not because of his colour, for i hold that the _souls_ of men are colourless! "i need not trouble you with the story of my early life," continued the hermit. "i lost my dear wife a year after our marriage, and was left with a little girl whose lovely face became more and more like that of her mother every day she lived. my soul was wrapped up in the child. after three years i went with her as a passenger to batavia. on the way we were attacked by a couple of pirate junks. baderoon was the pirate captain. he killed many of our men, took some of us prisoners, sank the vessel, seized my child, and was about to separate us, putting my child into one junk while i was retained, bound, in the other." he paused, and gazed over the glowing tree-tops into the golden horizon, with a longing, wistful look. at the same time something like an electric shock passed through nigel's frame, for was not this narrative strangely similar in its main features to that which his own father had told him on the keeling islands about beautiful little kathleen holbein and her father? he was on the point of seizing the hermit by the hand and telling him what he knew, when the thought occurred that attacks by pirates were common enough in those seas, that other fathers might have lost daughters in this way, and that, perhaps, his suspicion might be wrong. it would be a terrible thing, he thought, to raise hope in his poor friend's breast unless he were pretty sure of the hope being well founded. he would wait and hear more. he had just come to this conclusion, and managed to subdue the feelings which had been aroused, when van der kemp turned to him again, and continued his narrative-- "i know not how it was, unless the lord gave me strength for a purpose as he gave it to samson of old, but when i recovered from the stinging blow i had received, and saw the junk hoist her sails and heard my child scream, i felt the strength of a lion come over me; i burst the bonds that held me and leaped into the sea, intending to swim to her. but it was otherwise ordained. a breeze which had sprung up freshened, and the junk soon left me far behind. as for the other junk, i never saw it again, for i never looked back or thought of it--only, as i left it, i heard a mocking laugh from the one-eyed villain, who, i afterwards found out, owned and commanded both junks." nigel had no doubt now, but the agitation of his feelings still kept him silent. "need i say," continued the hermit, "that revenge burned fiercely in my breast from that day forward? if i had met the man soon after that, i should certainly have slain him. but god mercifully forbade it. since then he has opened my eyes to see the crucified one who prayed for his enemies. and up till now i have prayed most earnestly that baderoon and i might _not_ meet. my prayer has not been answered in the way i wished, but a _better_ answer has been granted, for the sin of revenge was overcome within me before we met." van der kemp paused again. "go on," said nigel, eagerly. "how did you escape?" "escape! where was i--oh! i remember," said the hermit, awaking as if out of a dream "well, i swam after the junk until it was out of sight, and then i swam on in silent despair until so completely exhausted that i felt consciousness leaving me. then i knew that the end must be near and i felt almost glad; but when i began to sink, the natural desire to prolong life revived, and i struggled on. just as my strength began a second time to fail, i struck against something. it was a dead cocoa-nut tree. i laid hold of it and clung to it all that night. next morning i was picked up by some fishermen who were going to telok betong by the outer passage round sebesi island, and were willing to land me there. but as my business connections had been chiefly with the town of anjer, i begged of them to land me on the island of krakatoa. this they did, and it has been my home ever since. i have been there many years." "have you never seen or heard of your daughter since?" asked nigel eagerly, and with deep sympathy. "never--i have travelled far and near, all over the archipelago; into the interior of the islands, great and small, but have failed to find her. i have long since felt that she must be dead--for--for she could not live with the monsters who stole her away." a certain contraction of the mouth, as he said this, and a gleam of the eyes, suggested to nigel that revenge was not yet dead within the hermit's breast, although it had been overcome. "what was her name?" asked nigel, willing to gain time to think how he ought to act, and being afraid of the effect that the sudden communication of the news might have on his friend. "winnie--darling winnie--after her mother," said the hermit with deep pathos in his tone. a feeling of disappointment came over our hero. winnie bore not the most distant resemblance to kathleen! "did you ever, during your search," asked nigel slowly, "visit the cocos-keeling islands?" "never. they are too far from where the attack on us was made." "and you never heard of a gun-boat having captured a pirate junk and----" "why do you ask, and why pause?" said the hermit, looking at his friend in some surprise. nigel felt that he had almost gone too far. "well, you know--" he replied in some confusion, "you--you are right when you expect me to sympathise with your great sorrow, which i do most profoundly, and--and--in short, i would give anything to be able to suggest hope to you, my friend. men should _never_ give way to despair." "thank you. it is kindly meant," returned the hermit, looking at the youth with his sad smile. "but it is vain. hope is dead now." they were interrupted at this point by the announcement that supper was ready. at the same time the sun sank, like the hermit's hope, and disappeared beyond the dark forest. chapter xx. nigel makes a confidant of moses--undertakes a lonely watch and sees something wonderful. it was not much supper that nigel roy ate that night. the excitement resulting from his supposed discovery reduced his appetite seriously, and the intense desire to open a safety-valve in the way of confidential talk with some one induced a nervously absent disposition which at last attracted attention. "you vant a goot dose of kvinine," remarked verkimier, when, having satiated himself, he found time to think of others--not that the professor was selfish by any means, only he was addicted to concentration of mind on all work in hand, inclusive of feeding. the hermit paid no attention to anything that was said. his recent conversation had given vent to a flood of memories and feelings that had been pent up for many years. after supper nigel resolved to make a confidant of moses. the negro's fidelity to and love for his master would ensure his sympathy at least, if not wise counsel. "moses," he said, when the professor had raised himself to the seventh heaven by means of tobacco fumes, "come with me. i want to have a talk." "das what i's allers wantin', massa nadgel; talkin's my strong point if i hab a strong point at all." they went together to the edge of a cliff on the hill-top, whence they could see an almost illimitable stretch of tropical wilderness bathed in a glorious flood of moonlight, and sat down. on a neighbouring cliff, which was crowned with a mass of grasses and shrubs, a small monkey also sat down, on a fallen branch, and watched them with pathetic interest, tempered, it would seem, by cutaneous irritation. "moses, i am sorely in need of advice," said nigel, turning suddenly to his companion with ill-suppressed excitement. "well, massa nadgel, you _does_ look like it, but i'm sorry i ain't a doctor. pra'ps de purfesser would help you better nor me." "you misunderstand me. can you keep a secret, moses?" "i kin try--if--if he's not too diffikilt to keep." "well, then; listen." the negro opened his eyes and his mouth as if these were the chief orifices for the entrance of sound, and advanced an ear. the distant monkey, observing, apparently, that some unusual communication was about to be made, also stretched out its little head, cocked an ear, and suspended its other operations. then, in low earnest tones, nigel told moses of his belief that van der kemp's daughter might yet be alive and well, and detailed the recent conversation he had had with his master. "now, moses; what d' ye think of all that?" profundity unfathomable sat on the negro's sable brow as he replied, "massa nadgel, i don't bery well know _what_ to t'ink." "but remember, moses, before we go further, that i tell you all this in strict confidence; not a word of it must pass your lips." the awful solemnity with which nigel sought to impress this on his companion was absolutely trifling compared with the expression of that companion's countenance, as, with a long-drawn argumentative and remonstrative _oh!_ he replied:--"massa--nadgel. does you really t'ink i would say or do any mortal t'ing w'atsumiver as would injure _my_ massa?" "i'm _sure_, you would not," returned nigel, quickly. "forgive me, moses, i merely meant that you would have to be very cautious--very careful--that you do not let a word slip--by accident, you know. i believe you'd sooner die than do an intentional injury to van der kemp. if i thought you capable of _that_, i think i would relieve my feelings by giving you a good thrashing." the listening monkey cocked its ear a little higher at this, and moses, who had at first raised his flat nose indignantly in the air, gradually lowered it, while a benignant smile supplanted indignation. "you're right dere, massa nadgel. i'd die a t'ousand times sooner dan injure massa. as to your last obserwation, it rouses two idees in my mind. first, i wonder how you'd manidge to gib me a t'rashin', an' second, i wonder if your own moder would rikognise you arter you'd tried it." at this the monkey turned its other ear as if to make quite sure that it heard aright. nigel laughed shortly. "but seriously, moses," he continued; "what do you think i should do? should i reveal my suspicions to van der kemp?" "cer'nly not!" answered the negro with prompt decision. "what! wake up all his old hopes to hab 'em all dashed to bits p'raps when you find dat you's wrong!" "but i feel absolutely certain that i'm _not_ wrong!" returned nigel, excitedly. "consider--there is, first, the one-eyed pirate; second, there is--" "'scuse me, massa nadgel, dere's no occasion to go all ober it again. i'll tell you what you do." "well?" exclaimed nigel, anxiously, while his companion frowned savagely under the force of the thoughts that surged through his brain. "here's what you'll do," said moses. "well?" (impatiently, as the negro paused.) "we're on our way home to krakatoa." "yes--well?" "one ob our men leabes us to-morrer--goes to 'is home on de coast. kitch one ob de steamers dat's allers due about dis time." "well, what of that?" "what ob dat! why, you'll write a letter to your fadder. it'll go by de steamer to batavia. he gits it long before we gits home, so dere's plenty time for 'im to take haction." "but what good will writing to my father do?" asked nigel in a somewhat disappointed tone. "_he_ can't help us." "ho yes, he can," said moses with a self-satisfied nod. "see here, i'll tell you what to write. you begin, 'dear fadder--or dearest fadder--i's not quite sure ob de strengt' ob your affection. p'raps de safest way--." "oh! get on, moses. never mind that." "ho! it's all bery well for you to say dat, but de ole gen'leman'll mind it. hows'ever, put it as you t'ink best--'dear fadder, victual your ship; up anchor; hois' de sails, an' steer for de cocos-keelin' islands. go ashore; git hold ob de young 'ooman called kat'leen hobbleben--'" "holbein, moses." "what! is she moses too?" "no, no! get on, man." "well, 'dearest fadder, git a hold ob her, whateber her name is, an' carry her off body and soul, an' whateber else b'longs to her. take her to de town ob anjer an' wait dere for furder orders.' ob course for de windin' up o' de letter you must appeal agin to de state ob your affections, for, as--" "not a bad idea," exclaimed nigel. "why, moses, you're a genius! of course i'll have to explain a little more fully." "'splain what you please," said moses. "my business is to gib you de bones ob de letter; yours--bein' a scholar--is to clove it wid flesh." "i'll do it, moses, at once." "i should like," rejoined moses, with a tooth-and-gum-disclosing smile, "to see your fadder when he gits dat letter!" the picture conjured up by his vivid imagination caused the negro to give way to an explosive laugh that sent the eavesdropping monkey like a brown thunderbolt into the recesses of its native jungle, while nigel went off to write and despatch the important letter. next day the party arrived at another village, where, the report of their approach having preceded them, they were received with much ceremony--all the more that the professor's power with the rifle had been made known, and that the neighbourhood was infested by tigers. there can be little doubt that at this part of the journey the travellers must have been dogged all the way by tigers, and it was matter for surprise that so small a party should not have been molested. possibly the reason was that these huge members of the feline race were afraid of white faces, being unaccustomed to them, or, perchance, the appearance and vigorous stride of even a few stalwart and fearless men had intimidated them. whatever the cause, the party reached the village without seeing a single tiger, though their footprints were observed in many places. the wild scenery became more and more beautiful as this village was neared. although flowers as a rule were small and inconspicuous in many parts of the great forest through which they passed, the rich pink and scarlet of many of the opening leaves, and the autumn-tinted foliage which lasts through all seasons of the year, fully made up for the want of them--at least as regards colour, while the whole vegetation was intermingled in a rich confusion that defies description. the professor went into perplexed raptures, his mind being distracted by the exuberant wealth of subjects which were presented to it all at the same time. "look zere!" he cried, at one turning in the path which opened up a new vista of exquisite beauty--"look at zat!" "ay, it is a siamang ape--next in size to the orang-utan," said van der kemp, who stood at his friend's elbow. the animal in question was a fine full-grown specimen, with long jet-black glancing hair. its height might probably have been a few inches over three feet, and the stretch of its arms over rather than under five feet, but at the great height at which it was seen--not less than eighty feet--it looked much like an ordinary monkey. it was hanging in the most easy nonchalant way by one hand from the branch of a tree, utterly indifferent to the fact that to drop was to die! the instant the siamang observed the travellers it set up a loud barking howl which made the woods resound, but it did not alter its position or seem to be alarmed in any degree. "vat a 'straordinary noise!" remarked the professor. "it is indeed," returned the hermit, "and it has an extraordinary appliance for producing it. there is a large bag under its throat extending to its lips and cheeks which it can fill with air by means of a valve in the windpipe. by expelling this air in sudden bursts it makes the varied sounds you hear." "mos' vonderful! a sort of natural air-gun! i vill shoot it," said the professor, raising his deadly rifle, and there is no doubt that the poor siamang would have dropped in another moment if van der kemp had not quietly and gravely touched his friend's elbow just as the explosion took place. "hah! you tooched me!" exclaimed the disappointed naturalist, looking fiercely round, while the amazed ape sent forth a bursting crack of its air-gun as it swung itself into the tree-top and made off. "yes, i touched you, and if you _will_ shoot when i am so close to you, you cannot wonder at it--especially when you intend to take life uselessly. the time now at the disposal of my friend nigel roy will not permit of our delaying long enough to kill and preserve large specimens. to say truth, my friend, we must press on now, as fast as we can, for we have a very long way to go." verkimier was not quite pleased with this explanation, but there was a sort of indescribable power about the hermit, when he was resolved to have his way, that those whom he led found it impossible to resist. on arriving at the village they were agreeably surprised to find a grand banquet, consisting chiefly of fruit, with fowl, rice, and indian corn, spread out for them in the balai or public hall, where also their sleeping quarters were appointed. an event had recently occurred, however, which somewhat damped the pleasure of their reception. a young man had been killed by a tiger. the brute had leaped upon him while he and a party of lads were traversing a narrow path through the jungle, and had killed him with one blow of its paw. the other youths courageously rushed at the beast with their spears and axes, and, driving it off, carried the body of their comrade away. "we have just buried the young man," said the chief of the village, "and have set a trap for the tiger, for he will be sure to visit the grave." "my friends would like to see this trap," said the hermit, who, of course, acted the part of interpreter wherever they went, being well acquainted with most of the languages and dialects of the archipelago. "there will yet be daylight after you have finished eating," said the chief. although anxious to go at once to see this trap, they felt the propriety of doing justice to what had been provided for them, and sat down to their meal, for which, to say truth, they were quite ready. then they went with a large band of armed natives to see this curious tiger-trap, the bait of which was the grave of a human being! the grave was close to the outskirts of the village, and, on one side, the jungle came up to within a few yards of it. the spot was surrounded by a strong and high bamboo fence, except at one point where a narrow but very conspicuous opening had been left. here a sharp spear was so arranged beside the opening that it could be shot across it at a point corresponding with the height of a tiger's heart from the ground--as well, at least, as that point could be estimated by men who were pretty familiar with tigers. the motive power to propel this spear was derived from a green bamboo, so strong that it required several powerful men to bend it in the form of a bow. a species of trigger was arranged to let the bent bow fly, and a piece of fine cord passed from this across the opening about breast-high for a tiger. the intention was that the animal, in entering the enclosure, should become its own executioner--should commit unintentional suicide, if we may so put it. "i have an ambition to shoot a tiger," said nigel to van der kemp that evening. "do you think the people would object to my getting up into a tree with my rifle and watching beside the grave part of the night?" "i am sure that they would not. but your watch will probably be in vain, for tigers are uncommonly sagacious creatures and seem to me to have exceptional powers for scenting danger." "no matter, i will try." accordingly, a little before dark that evening our hero borrowed the professor's double-barrelled rifle, being more suitable for large game than his own gun, and sauntered with moses down to the grave where he ensconced himself in the branches of a large tree about thirty feet from the ground. the form of the tree was such, that among its forks nigel could form a sort of nest in which he could sit, in full view of the poor youth's grave, without the risk of falling to the ground even if he should chance to drop asleep. "good-night, massa nadgel," said moses as he turned to leave his companion to his solitary vigil. "see you not go to sleep." "no fear of _that_!" said nigel. "an' whateber you do, don't miss." "i'll do my best--good-night." while there was yet a little daylight, our hunter looked well about him; took note of the exact position of the fence, the entrance to the enclosure, and the grave; judged the various distances of objects, and arranged the sights of the rifle, which was already loaded with a brace of hardened balls. then he looked up through the tree-tops and wished for darkness. it came sooner than he expected. night always descends more suddenly in tropical than in temperate regions. the sun had barely dipped below the horizon when night seemed to descend like a pall over the jungle, and an indescribable sensation of eerieness crept over nigel's spirit. objects became very indistinct, and he fancied that he saw something moving on the newly-made grave. with a startled feeling he grasped his weapon, supposing that the tiger must have entered the enclosure with cat-like stealth. on second thoughts, however, he discarded the idea, for the entrance was between him and the grave, and still seemed quite visible. do what he would, however, the thought of ghosts insisted on intruding upon him! he did not believe in ghosts--oh no!--had always scouted the idea of their existence. why, therefore, did he feel uncomfortable? he could not tell. it must simply be the excitement natural to such a very new and peculiar situation. he would think of something else. he would devote his mind to the contemplation of tigers! in a short time the moon would rise, he knew--then he would be able to see better. while he was in this very uncomfortable state of mind, with the jungle wrapped in profound silence as well as gloom, there broke on the night air a wail so indescribable that the very marrow in nigel's bones seemed to shrivel up. it ceased, but again broke forth louder than before, increasing in length and strength, until his ears seemed to tingle with the sound, and then it died away to a sigh of unutterable woe. "i have always," muttered nigel, "believed myself to be a man of ordinary courage, but _now_--i shall write myself a coward, if not an ass!" he attempted to laugh at this pleasantry, but the laugh was hollow and seemed to freeze in his gullet as the wail broke forth again, ten times more hideous than at first. after a time the wail became more continuous, and the watcher began to get used to it. then a happy thought flashed into his mind--this was, perhaps, some sort of mourning for the dead! he was right. the duty of the father of the poor youth who had been killed was, for several days after the funeral, to sit alone in his house and chant from sunset till daybreak a death-dirge, or, as it is called, the _tjerita bari_. it was not till next day that this was told to him, but meanwhile the surmise afforded him instantaneous relief. as if nature sympathised with his feelings, the moon arose at the same time and dispelled the thick darkness, though it was not till much later that, sailing across a clear sky, she poured her bright beams through the tree-tops and finally rested on the dead man's grave. by that time nigel had quite recovered his equanimity, and mentally blotted out the writing of "coward" and "ass" which he had written against himself. but another trouble now assailed him. he became sleepy! half-a-dozen times at least within half-an-hour he started wide awake under the impression that he was falling off the tree. "this will never do," he exclaimed, rising to his feet, resting his rifle in a position of safety, and then stretching himself to his utmost extent so that he became thoroughly awake. after this "rouser," as he called it, he sat down again, and almost immediately fell fast asleep. how long he sat in this condition it is impossible to say, but he opened his eyes at length with an indescribable sensation that _something_ required attention, and the first thing they rested on (for daylight was dawning) was an enormous tiger not forty yards away from him, gliding like a shadow and with cat-like stealth towards the opening of the enclosure. the sight was so sudden and so unexpected that, for the moment, he was paralysed. perhaps he thought it was a dream. before he could recover presence of mind to seize his rifle, the breast of the animal had touched the fatal line; the trigger was drawn; the stout bamboo straightened with a booming sound, and the spear--or, rather, the giant arrow--was shot straight through the tiger's side! then occurred a scene which might well have induced nigel to imagine that he dreamt, for the transfixed creature bounded into the enclosure with a terrific roar that rang fearfully through the arches of the hitherto silent forest. rushing across the grave, it sprang with one tremendous bound right over the high fence, carrying the spear along with it into the jungle beyond. by that time nigel was himself again, with rifle in hand, but too late to fire. the moment he heard the thud of the tiger's descent, he slid down the tree, and, forgetful or regardless of danger, went crashing into the jungle, while the yells and shouts of hundreds of aroused natives suggested the peopling of the region with an army of fiends. but our hero had not to go far. in his haste he almost tumbled over the tiger. it was lying stone dead on the spot where it had fallen! a few minutes more and the natives came pouring round him, wild with excitement and joy. soon he was joined by his own comrades. "well, you've managed to shoot him, i see," said van der kemp as he joined the group. "alas! no. i have not fired a shot," said nigel, with a half disappointed look. "you's got de better ob him anyhow," remarked moses as he pushed to the front. "the spear got the better of him, moses." "veil now, zat is a splendid animal. lat me see," said the professor, pulling out his tape-measure. it was with difficulty that the man of science made and noted his measurements, for the people were pressing eagerly round the carcase to gratify their revenge by running their spears into the still warm body. they dipped the points in the blood and passed their krisses broadside over the creature that they might absorb the courage and boldness which were supposed to emanate from it! then they skinned it, and pieces of the heart and brain were eaten raw by some of those whose relatives had been killed by tigers. finally the skull was hacked to pieces for the purpose of distributing the teeth, which are used by the natives as charms. chapter xxi. in which the professor distinguishes himself. leaving this village immediately after the slaying of the tiger, the party continued to journey almost by forced marches, for not only was nigel roy very anxious to keep tryst with his father, and to settle the question of kathleen's identity by bringing father and daughter together, but van der kemp himself, strange to say, was filled with intense and unaccountable anxiety to get back to his island home. "i don't know how it is," he said to nigel as they walked side by side through the forest, followed by moses and the professor, who had become very friendly on the strength of a certain amount of vacant curiosity displayed by the former in regard to scientific matters--"i don't know how it is, but i feel an unusually strong desire to get back to my cave. i have often been absent from home for long periods at a time, but have never before experienced these strange longings. i say strange, because there is no such thing as an effect without a cause." "may not the cause be presentiment?" suggested nigel, who, knowing what a tremendous possibility for the hermit lay in the future, felt a little inclined to be superstitious. it did not occur to him just then that an equally, if not more, tremendous possibility lay in the future for himself--touching his recent discovery or suspicion! "i do not believe in presentiments," returned the hermit. "they are probably the result of indigestion or a disordered intellect, from neither of which complaints do i suffer--at least not consciously!" "but you have never before left home in such peculiar circumstances," said nigel. "have you not told me that this is the first time for about two hundred years that krakatoa has broken out in active eruption?" "true, but that cannot be to me the cause of longings or anxieties, for i have seen many a long-dormant crater become active without any important result either to me or to any one else." "stop, stop!" cried professor verkimier in a hoarse whisper at that moment; "look! look at zee monkeys!" monkeys are very abundant in sumatra, but the nest of them which the travellers discovered at that time, and which had called forth the professor's admiration, was enough--as moses said--to make a "renocerus laugh." the trees around absolutely swarmed with monkeys; those of a slender form and with very long tails being most numerous. they were engaged in some sort of game, swinging by arms, legs, and tails from branches, holding on to or chasing each other, and taking the most astonishing leaps in circumstances where a slip would have no doubt resulted in broken limbs or in death. "stand still! oh! _do_ stand still--like you vas petrivied," said the professor in a low voice of entreaty. being quite willing to humour him, the whole party stood immovable, like statues, and thus avoided attracting the attention of the monkeys, who continued their game. it seemed to be a sort of "follow my leader," for one big strong fellow led off with a bound from one branch to another which evidently tried the nerves of his more timid and less agile companions. they all succeeded, however, from the largest even to the smallest--which last was a very tiny creature with a pink face, a sad expression, and a corkscrew tail. for a time they bounded actively among the branches, now high now low, till suddenly the big leader took a tremendous leap, as if for the express purpose of baffling or testing his companions. it was immensely amusing to see the degrees of trepidation with which the others followed. the last two seemed quite unable to make up their minds to the leap, until the others seemed about to disappear, when one of them took heart and bounded wildly across. thus little pink-face with the corkscrew tail was left alone! twice did that little monkey make a desperate resolution to jump, and twice did its little heart fail as it measured the distance between the branches and glanced at the abyss below. its companions seemed to entertain a feeling of pity for it. numbers of them came back, as if to watch the jump and encourage the little one. a third time it made an abortive effort to spring, and looked round pitifully, whereupon moses gave vent to an uncontrollable snort of suppressed laughter. "vat you mean by zat?" growled the professor angrily. the growl and snort together revealed the intruders, and all the monkeys, except pink-face, crowding the trees above the spot where they stood, gazed down upon them with expressions in which unparalleled indignation and inconceivable surprise struggled for the mastery. then, with a wild shriek, the whole troop fled into the forest. this was too much for poor, half-petrified pink-face with the twisted tail. seeing that its comrades were gone in earnest, it became desperate, flung itself frantically into the air with an agonising squeak, missed its mark, went crashing through the slender branches and fell to the ground. fortunately these branches broke its fall so that it arose unhurt, bounded into a bush, still squeaking with alarm, and made after its friends. "why did you not shoot it, professor?" asked nigel, laughing as much at verkimier's grave expression as at the little monkey's behaviour. "vy did i not shot it?" echoed the professor. "i vould as soon shot a baby. zee pluck of zat leetle creature is admirable. it vould be a horrible shame to take his life. no! i do love to see ploock vezer in man or beast! he could not shoomp zat. he _knew_ he could not shoomp it, but he _tried_ to shoomp it. he vould not be beat, an' i vould not kill him--zough i vant 'im very mooch for a specimen." it seemed as if the professor was to be specially rewarded for his generous self-denial on this occasion, for while he was yet speaking, a soft "hush!" from van der kemp caused the whole party to halt in dead silence and look at the hermit inquiringly. "you are in luck, professor," he murmured, in a soft, low voice--very different from that hissing whisper which so many people seem to imagine is an inaudible utterance. "i see a splendid argus pheasant over there making himself agreeable to his wife!" "vare? oh! vare?" exclaimed the enthusiast with blazing eyes, for although he had already seen and procured specimens of this most beautiful creature, he had not yet seen it engage in the strange love-dance--if we may so call it--which is peculiar to the bird. "you'll never get near enough to see it if you hiss like a serpent," said the hermit. "get out your binoculars, follow me, and hold your tongue, all of you--that will be the safest plan. tread lightly." it was a sight to behold the professor crouching almost double in order to render himself less conspicuous, with his hat pushed back, and the blue glasses giving him the appearance of a great-eyed seal. he carried his butterfly-net in one hand, and the unfailing rifle in the other. fortunately the hermit's sharp and practised eye had enabled him to distinguish the birds in the distance before their advance had alarmed them, so that they were able to reach a mound topped with low bushes over which they could easily watch the birds. "zat is very koorious an' most interesting," murmured the professor after a short silence. he was right. there were two argus pheasants, a male and female--the male alone being decorated superbly. the argus belongs to the same family as the peacock, but is not so gaudy in colouring, and therefore, perhaps, somewhat more pleasing. its tail is formed chiefly by an enormous elongation of the two tail quills, and of the secondary wing feathers, no two of which are exactly the same, and the closer they are examined the greater is seen to be the extreme beauty of their markings, and the rich varied harmony of their colouring. when a male argus wishes to show off his magnificence to his spouse--or when she asks him to show it off, we know not which--he makes a circle in the forest some ten or twelve feet in diameter, which he clears of every leaf, twig, and branch. on the margin of this circus there is invariably a projecting branch, or overarching root a few feet above the ground, on which the female takes her place to watch the exhibition. this consists of the male strutting about, pluming his feathers, and generally displaying his gorgeous beauty. "vat ineffable vanity!" exclaimed the professor, after gazing for some time in silence. his own folly in thus speaking was instantly proved by the two birds bringing the exhibition to an abrupt close and hastily taking wing. not long after seeing this they came to a small but deep and rapid river, which for a time checked their progress, for there was no ford, and the porters who carried verkimier's packages seemed to know nothing about a bridge, either natural or artificial. after wandering for an hour or so along its banks, however, they found a giant tree which had fallen across the stream and formed a natural bridge. on the other side of the stream the ground was more rugged and the forest so dense that they had to walk in a sort of twilight--only a glimpse of blue sky being visible here and there through the tree-tops. in some places, however, there occurred bright little openings which swarmed with species of metallic tiger-beetles and sand-bees, and where sulphur, swallow-tailed, and other butterflies sported their brief life away over the damp ground by the water's edge. the native forest path which they followed was little better than a tunnel cut through a grove of low rattan-palms, the delicate but exceedingly tough tendrils of which hung down in all directions. these were fringed with sharp hooks which caught their clothing and tore it, or held on unrelentingly, so that the only way of escape was to step quietly back and unhook themselves. this of itself would have rendered their progress slow as well as painful, but other things tended to increase the delay. at one place they came to a tree about seven feet in diameter which lay across the path and had to be scrambled over, and this was done with great difficulty. at another, a gigantic mud-bath--the wallowing hole of a herd of elephants--obstructed the way, and a yell from one of the porters told that in attempting to cross it he had fallen in up to the waist. a comrade in trying to pull him out also fell in and sank up to the armpits. but they got over it--as resolute men always do--somehow! "zis is horrible!" exclaimed the professor, panting from his exertions, and making a wild plunge with his insect-net at some living creature. "hah! zee brute! i have 'im." the man of science was flat on his stomach as he spoke, with arm outstretched and the net pressed close to the ground, while a smile of triumph beamed through the mud and scratches on his face. "what have you got?" asked nigel, doing his best to restrain a laugh. "a splendid _ornit'optera_ a day-flying moss'," said verkimier as he cautiously rose, "vich mimics zee _trepsichrois mulciber_. ant zis very morning i caught von _leptocircus virescens_, vich derives protection from mimicking zee habits ant appearance of a dragon-fly." "what rubbish dat purfesser do talk!" remarked moses in an undertone to the hermit as they moved on again. "not such rubbish as it sounds to you, moses. these are the scientific names of the creatures, and you know as well as he does that many creatures think they find it advantageous to pretend to be what they are not. man himself is not quite free from this characteristic. indeed, you have a little of it yourself," said the hermit with one of his twinkling glances. "when you are almost terrified of your wits don't you pretend that there's nothing the matter with you?" "nebber, massa, nebber!" answered the negro with remonstrative gravity. "when i's nigh out ob my wits, so's my innards feels like nuffin' but warmish water, i gits whitey-grey in de chops, so i's told, an' blue in de lips, an' i _pretends_ nuffin'--i don't care _who_ sees it!" the track for some distance beyond this point became worse and worse. then the nature of the ground changed somewhat--became more hilly, and the path, if such it could be styled, more rugged in some places, more swampy in others, while, to add to their discomfort, rain began to fall, and night set in dark and dismal without any sign of the village of which they were in search. by that time the porters who carried verkimier's boxes seemed so tired that the hermit thought it advisable to encamp, but the ground was so wet and the leeches were so numerous that they begged him to go on, assuring him that the village could not be far distant. in another half-hour the darkness became intense, so that a man could scarcely see his fellow even when within two paces of him. ominous mutterings and rumblings like distant thunder also were heard, which appeared to indicate an approaching storm. in these circumstances encamping became unavoidable, and the order was given to make a huge fire to scare away the tigers, which were known to be numerous, and the elephants whose fresh tracks had been crossed and followed during the greater part of the day. the track of a rhinoceros and a tapir had also been seen, but no danger was to be anticipated from those creatures. "shall we have a stormy night, think you?" asked nigel, as he assisted in striking a light. "it may be so," replied the hermit, flinging down one after another of his wet matches, which failed to kindle. "what we hear may be distant thunder, but i doubt it. the sounds seem to me more like the mutterings of a volcano. some new crater may have burst forth in the sumatran ranges. this thick darkness inclines me to think so--especially after the new activity of volcanic action we have seen so recently at krakatoa. let me try your matches, nigel, perhaps they have escaped--mine are useless." but nigel's matches were as wet as those of the hermit. so were those of the professor. luckily moses carried the old-fashioned flint and steel, with which, and a small piece of tinder, a spark was at last kindled, but as they were about to apply it to a handful of dry bamboo scrapings, an extra spirt of rain extinguished it. for an hour and more they made ineffectual attempts to strike a light. even the cessation of the rain was of no avail. "vat must ve do _now_?" asked the professor in tones that suggested a wo-begone countenance, though there was no light by which to distinguish it. "grin and bear it," said nigel, in a voice suggestive of a slight expansion of the mouth--though no one could see it. "dere's nuffin' else left to do," said moses, in a tone which betrayed such a very wide expansion that nigel laughed outright. "hah! you may laugh, my yoong frond, hot if zee tigers find us out or zee elephants trample on us, your laughter vill be turned to veeping. vat is zat? is not zat vonderful?" the question and exclamation were prompted by the sudden appearance of faint mysterious lights among the bushes. that the professor viewed them as unfriendly lights was clear from the click of his rifle-locks which followed. "it is only phosphoric light," explained van der kemp. "i have often seen it thus in electric states of the atmosphere. it will probably increase--meanwhile we must seat ourselves on our boxes and do the best we can till daylight. are you there, boys?" this question, addressed to the bearers in their native tongue, was not answered, and it was found, on a _feeling_ examination, that, in spite of leeches, tigers, elephants, and the whole animal creation, the exhausted porters had flung themselves on the wet ground and gone to sleep while their leaders were discussing the situation. dismal though the condition of the party was, the appearances in the forest soon changed the professor's woe into eager delight, for the phosphorescence became more and more pronounced, until every tree-stem blinked with a palish green light, and it trickled like moonlight over the ground, bringing out thick dumpy mushrooms like domes of light. glowing caterpillars and centipedes crawled about, leaving a trail of light behind them, and fireflies darting to and fro peopled the air and gave additional animation to the scene. in the midst of the darkness, thus made singularly visible, the white travellers sat dozing and nodding on their luggage, while the cries of metallic-toned horned frogs and other nocturnal sounds peculiar to that weird forest formed their appropriate lullaby. but moses neither dozed nor nodded. with a pertinacity peculiarly his own he continued to play a running accompaniment to the lullaby with his flint and steel, until his perseverance was rewarded with a spark which caught on a dry portion of the tinder and continued to burn. by that time the phosphoric lights had faded, and his spark was the only one which gleamed through intense darkness. how he cherished that spark! he wrapped it in swaddling clothes of dry bamboo scrapings with as much care as if it had been the essence of his life. he blew upon it tenderly as though to fan its delicate brow with the soft zephyrs of a father's affection. again he blew more vigorously, and his enormous pouting lips came dimly into view. another blow and his flat nose and fat cheeks emerged from darkness. still another--with growing confidence--and his huge eyes were revealed glowing with hope. at last the handful of combustible burst into a flame, and was thrust into a prepared nest of twigs. this, communicating with a heap of logs, kindled a sudden blaze which scattered darkness out of being, and converted thirty yards of the primeval forest into a chamber of glorious light, round which the human beings crowded with joy enhanced by the unexpectedness of the event, and before which the wild things of the wilderness fled away. when daylight came at last, they found that the village for which they had been searching was only two miles beyond the spot where they had encamped. here, being thoroughly exhausted, it was resolved that they should spend that day and night, and, we need scarcely add, they spent a considerable portion of both in sleep--at least such parts of both as were not devoted to food. and here the professor distinguished himself in a way that raised him greatly in the estimation of his companions and caused the natives of the place to regard him as something of a demi-god. of course we do not vouch for the truth of the details of the incident, for no one save himself was there to see, and although we entertained the utmost regard for himself, we were not sufficiently acquainted with his moral character to answer for his strict truthfulness. as to the main event, there was no denying that. the thing happened thus:-- towards the afternoon of that same day the travellers began to wake up, stretch themselves, and think about supper. in the course of conversation it transpired that a tiger had been prowling about the village for some days, and had hitherto successfully eluded all attempts to trap or spear it. they had tethered a goat several times near a small pond and watched the spot from safe positions among the trees, with spears, bows and arrows, and blow-pipes ready, but when they watched, the tiger did not come, and when they failed to watch, the tiger did come and carried off the goat. thus they had been baffled. "mine frond," said the professor to the hermit on hearing this. "i vill shot zat tiger! i am resolved. vill you ask zee chief to show me zee place ant zen tell his people, on pain of def, not to go near it all night, for if zey do i vill certainly shot zem--by accident of course!" the hermit did as he was bid, but advised his sanguine friend against exposing himself recklessly. the chief willingly fell in with his wishes. "won't you tell us what you intend to do, professor?" asked nigel, "and let us help you." "no, i vill do it all by mineself--or die! i vill vant a shofel or a spade of some sort." the chief provided the required implement, conducted his visitor a little before sunset to the spot, just outside the village, and left him there armed with his rifle, a revolver, and a long knife or kriss, besides the spade. when alone, the bold man put off his glasses, made a careful inspection of the ground, came to a conclusion--founded on scientific data no doubt--as to the probable spot whence the tiger would issue from the jungle when about to seize the goat, and, just opposite that spot, on the face of a slope about ten yards from the goat, he dug a hole deep enough to contain his own person. the soil was sandy easy to dig, and quite dry. it was growing dusk when the professor crept into this rifle-pit, drew his weapons and the spade in after him, and closed the mouth of the pit with moist earth, leaving only a very small eye-hole through which he could see the goat standing innocently by the brink of the pool. "now," said he, as he lay resting on his elbows with the rifle laid ready to hand and the revolver beside it; "now, i know not vezer you can smell or not, but i have buried mineself in eart', vich is a non-conductor of smell. ve shall see!" it soon became very dark, for there was no moon, yet not so dark but that the form of the goat could be seen distinctly reflected in the pond. naturally the professor's mind reverted to the occasion when nigel had watched in the branches of a tree for another tiger. the conditions were different, and so, he thought, was the man! "mine yoong frond," he said mentally, "is brav', oondoubtedly, but his nerves have not been braced by experience like mine. it is vell, for zere is more dancher here zan in a tree. it matters not. i am resolf to shot zat tigre--or die!" in this resolute and heroic frame of mind he commenced his vigil. it is curious to note how frequently the calculations of men fail them--even those of scientific men! the tiger came indeed to the spot, but he came in precisely the opposite direction from that which the watcher expected, so that while verkimier was staring over the goat's head at an opening in the jungle beyond the pond, the tiger was advancing stealthily and slowly through the bushes exactly behind the hole in which he lay. suddenly the professor became aware of _something_! he saw nothing consciously, he heard nothing, but there stole over him, somehow, the feeling of a dread presence! was he asleep? was it nightmare? no, it was night-tiger! he knew it, somehow; he _felt_ it--but he could not see it. to face death is easy enough--according to some people--but to face nothing at all is at all times trying. verkimier felt it to be so at that moment. but he was a true hero and conquered himself. "come now," he said mentally, "don't be an ass! don't lose your shance by voomanly fears. keep kviet." another moment and there was a very slight sound right over his head. he glanced upwards--as far as the little hole would permit--and there, not a foot from him, was a tawny yellow throat! with a tremendous paw moving slowly forward--so slowly that it might have suggested the imperceptible movement of the hour-hand of a watch, or of a glacier. there was indeed motion, but it was not perceptible. the professor's perceptions were quick. he did not require to think. he knew that to use the rifle at such close quarters was absolutely impossible. he knew that the slightest motion would betray him. he could see that as yet he was undiscovered, for the animal's nose was straight for the goat, and he concluded that either his having buried himself was a safeguard against being smelt, or that the tiger had a cold in its head. he thought for one moment of bursting up with a yell that would scare the monster out of his seven senses--if he had seven--but dismissed the thought as cowardly, for it would be sacrificing success to safety. he knew not what to do, and the cold perspiration consequent upon indecision at a supreme moment broke out all over him. suddenly he thought of the revolver! like lightning he seized it, pointed it straight up and fired. the bullet--a large army revolver one--entered the throat of the animal, pierced the root of the tongue, crashed through the palate obliquely, and entered the brain. the tiger threw one indescribable somersault and fell--fell so promptly that it blocked the mouth of the pit, all the covering earth of which had been blown away by the shot, and verkimier could feel the hairy side of the creature, and hear the beating of its heart as it gasped its life away. but in his cramped position he could not push it aside. well aware of the tenacity of life in tigers, he thought that if the creature revived it would certainly grasp him even in its dying agonies, for the weight of its body and its struggles were already crushing in the upper part of the hole. to put an end to its sufferings and his own danger, he pointed the revolver at its side and again fired. the crash in the confined hole was tremendous--so awful that the professor thought the weapon must have burst. the struggles of the, tiger became more violent than ever, and its weight more oppressive as the earth crumbled away. again the cold perspiration broke out all over the man, and he became unconscious. it must not be supposed that the professor's friends were unwatchful. although they had promised not to disturb him in his operations, they had held themselves in readiness with rifle, revolver, and spear, and the instant the first shot was heard, they ran down to the scene of action. before reaching it the second shot quickened their pace as they ran down to the pond--a number of natives yelling and waving torches at their heels. "here he is," cried moses, who was first on the scene, "dead as mutton!" "what! the professor?" cried nigel in alarm. "no; de tiger." "where's verkimier?" asked the hermit as he came up. "i dun know, massa," said moses, looking round him vacantly. "search well, men, and be quick, he may have been injured," cried van der kemp, seizing a torch and setting the example. "let me out!" came at that moment from what appeared to be the bowels of the earth, causing every one to stand aghast gazing in wonder around and on each other. "zounds! vy don't you let me _out_?" shouted the voice again. there was an indication of a tendency to flight on the part of the natives, but nigel's asking "where _are_ you?" had the effect of inducing them to delay for the answer. "here--oonder zee tigre! kveek, i am suffocat!" instantly van der kemp seized the animal by the 'tail, and, avith a force worthy of hercules, heaved it aside as if it had been a dead cat, revealing the man of science underneath--alive and well, but dishevelled, scratched, and soiled--also, as deaf as a door-post! chapter xxii. a python discovered and a geyser interviewed. "it never rains but it pours" is a well-known proverb which finds, frequent illustration in the experience of almost every one. at all events verkimier had reason to believe in the truth of it at that time, for adventures came down on him, as it were, in a sort of deluge, more or less astounding, insomuch that his enthusiastic spirit, bathing, if we may say so, in an ocean of scientific delight, pronounced sumatra to be the very paradise of the student of nature. we have not room in this volume to follow him in the details of his wonderful experiences, but we must mention one adventure which he had on the very day after the tiger-incident, because it very nearly had the effect of separating him from his travelling companions. being deaf, as we have said--owing to the explosion of his revolver in the hole--but not necessarily dumb, the professor, after one or two futile attempts to hear and converse, deemed it wise to go to bed and spend the few conscious minutes that might precede sleep in watching van der kemp, who kindly undertook to skin his tiger for him. soon the self-satisfied man fell into a sweet infantine slumber, and dreamed of tigers, in which state he gave vent to sundry grunts, gasps, and half-suppressed cries, to the immense delight of moses, who sat watching him, indulging in a running commentary suggestive of the recent event, and giving utterance now and then to a few imitative growls by way of enhancing the effect of the dreams! "look! look! massa nadgel, he's twitchin' all ober. de tiger's comin' to him now." "looks like it, moses." "yes--an', see, he grip de 'volver--no, too soon, or de tiger's goed away, for he's stopped twichin'--dare; de tiger comes agin!" a gasp and clenching of the right hand seemed to warrant this assumption. then a yell rang through the hut; moses displayed all, and more than all his teeth, and the professor, springing up on one elbow, glared fearfully. "i'n't it awrful?" inquired moses in a low tone. the professor awoke mentally, recognised the situation, smiled an imbecile smile, and sank back again on his pillow with a sigh of relief. after that, when the skinning of the tiger was completed, the dreams appeared to leave him, and all his comrades joined him in the land of nod. he was first to awake when daylight entered their hut the following morning, and, feeling in a fresh, quiescent state of mind after the excitement of the preceding night, he lay on his back, his eyes fixed contentedly on the grand tiger-skin which hung on the opposite wall. by degrees his eyes grew wearied of that object, and he allowed them to travel languidly upwards and along the roof until they rested on the spot directly over his head, where they became fixed, and, at the same time, opened out to a glare, compared to which all his previous glaring was as nothing--for there, in the thatch, looking down upon him, was the angular head of a huge python. the snake was rolled up in a tight coil, and had evidently spent the night within a yard of the professor's head! being unable to make out what sort of snake it was, and fearing that it might be a poisonous one, he crept quietly from his couch, keeping his eyes fixed on the reptile as he did so. one result of this mode of action was that he did not see where he was going, and inadvertently thrust one finger into moses' right eye, and another into his open mouth. the negro naturally shut his mouth with a snap, while the professor opened his with a roar, and in another moment every man was on his feet blinking inquiringly. "look! zee snake!" cried the professor, when moses released him. "we must get him out of that," remarked van der kemp, as he quietly made a noose with a piece of rattan, and fastened it to the end of a long pole. with the latter he poked the creature up, and, when it had uncoiled sufficiently, he slipped the noose deftly over its head. "clear out, friends," he said, looking round. all obeyed with uncommon promptitude except the professor, who valiantly stood his ground. van der kemp pulled the python violently down to the floor, where it commenced a tremendous scuffle among the chairs and posts. the hermit kept its head off with the pole, and sought to catch its tail, but failed twice. seeing this the professor caught the tail as it whipped against his legs, and springing down the steps so violently that he snapped the cord by which the hermit held it, and drew the creature straight out--a thick monster full twelve feet long, and capable of swallowing a dog or a child. "out of zee way!" shouted the professor, making a wild effort to swing the python against a tree, but the tail slipped from his grasp, the professor fell, and the snake went crashing against a log, under which it took refuge. nigel, who was nearest to it, sprang forward, fortunately caught its tail, and, swinging it and himself round with such force that it could not coil up at all, dashed it against a tree. before it could recover from the shock, moses had caught up a hatchet and cut its head off with one blow. the tail wriggled for a few seconds, and the head gaped once or twice, as if in mild surprise at so sudden a finale. "zat is strainch--very strainch," slowly remarked the professor, as, still seated on the ground, he solemnly noted these facts. "not so _very_ strange, after all," said van der kemp; "i've seen the head of many a bigger snake cut off at one blow." "mine frond, you mistake me. it is zee vorking of physical law in zee spiritual vorld zat perplexes me. moses has cut zee brute in two--physical fact, substance can be divided. zee two parts are still alife, zerfore, zee life--zee spirit--has also been divided!" "it is indeed very strange," said nigel, with a laugh. "stranger still that you may cut a worm into several parts, and the life remains in each, but, strangest of all, that you should sit on the ground, professor, instead of rising up, while you philosophise. you are not hurt, i hope--are you?" "i razer zink i am," returned the philosopher with a faint smile; "mine onkle, i zink, is spraint." this was indeed true, and it seemed as if the poor man's wanderings were to be, for a time at least, brought to an abrupt close. fortunately it was found that a pony could be procured at that village, and, as they had entered the borders of the mountainous regions, and the roads were more open and passable than heretofore, it was resolved that the professor should ride until his ankle recovered. we must now pass over a considerable portion of time and space, and convey the reader, by a forced march, to the crater of an active volcano. by that time verkimier's ankle had recovered and the pony had been dismissed. the heavy luggage, with the porters, had been left in the low grounds, for the mountain they had scaled was over , feet above the sea-level. only one native from the plain below accompanied them as guide, and three of their porters whose inquiring minds tempted them to make the ascent. at about , feet the party reached what the natives called the dempo or edge of the volcano, whence they looked down into the sawah or ancient crater, which was a level space composed of brown soil surrounded by cliffs, and lying like the bottom of a cup feet below them. it had a sulphurous odour, and was dotted here and there with clumps of heath and rhododendrons. in the centre of this was a cone which formed the true--or modern--crater. on scrambling up to the lip of the cone and looking down some feet of precipitous rock they beheld what seemed to be a pure white lake set in a central basin of feet in diameter. the surface of this lakelet smoked, and although it reflected every passing cloud as if it were a mirror, it was in reality a basin of hot mud, the surface of which was about thirty feet below its rim. "you will soon see a change come over it," said the hermit, as the party gazed in silent admiration at the weird scene. he had scarcely spoken, when the middle of the lake became intensely black and scored with dark streaks. this, though not quite obvious at first from the point where they stood, was caused by the slow formation of a great chasm in the centre of the seething lake of mud. the lake was sinking into its own throat. the blackness increased. then a dull sullen roar was heard, and next moment the entire lake upheaved, not violently, but in a slow, majestic manner some hundreds of feet into the air, whence it fell back into its basin with an awful roar which reverberated and echoed from the rocky walls of the caldron like the singing of an angry sea. an immense volume of steam--the motive power which had blown up the lake--was at the same time liberated and dissipated in the air. the wave-circles died away on the margin of the lake, and the placid, cloud-reflecting surface was restored until the geyser had gathered fresh force for another upheaval. "amazing!" exclaimed nigel, who had gazed with feelings of awe at this curious exhibition of the tremendous internal forces with which the creator has endowed the earth. "vonderful!" exclaimed the professor, whose astonishment was such, that his eyebrows rose high above the rim of his huge blue binoculars. moses, to whom such an exhibition of the powers of nature was familiar, was, we are sorry to say, not much impressed, if impressed at all! indeed he scarcely noticed it, but watched, with intense teeth-and-gum disclosing satisfaction, the faces of two of the native porters who had never seen anything of the kind before, and whose terrified expressions suggested the probability of a precipitate flight when their trembling limbs became fit to resume duty. "will it come again soon?" asked nigel, turning to van der kemp. "every fifteen or twenty minutes it goes through that process all day and every day," replied the hermit. "but, if i may joodge from zee stones ant scoriae around," said the professor, "zee volcano is not alvays so peaceful as it is joost now." "you are right. about once in every three years, and sometimes oftener, the crops of coffee, bananas, rice, etc., in this region are quite destroyed by sulphur-rain, which covers everything for miles around the crater." "hah! it vould be too hote a place zis for us, if zat vas to happin joost now," remarked verkimier with a smile. "it cannot be far off the time now, i should think," said yan der kemp. all this talk moses translated, and embellished, to the native porters with the solemn sincerity of a true and thorough-paced hypocrite. he had scarcely finished, and was watching with immense delight the changeful aspect of their whitey-green faces, when another volcanic fit came on, and the deep-toned roar of the coming explosion was heard. it was so awesome that the countenance even of van der kemp became graver than usual. as for the two native porters, they gazed and trembled. nigel and the professor also gazed with lively expectation. moses--we grieve to record it--hugged himself internally, and gloated over the two porters. another moment and there came a mighty roar. up went the mud-lake hundreds of feet into the air; out came the steam with the sound of a thousand trombones, and away went the two porters, head ever heels, down the outer slope of the cone and across the sawah as if the spirit of evil were after them. there was no cause, however, for alarm. the mud-lake, falling back into its native cup, resumed its placid aspect and awaited its next upheaval with as much tranquillity as if it had never known disturbance in the past, and were indifferent about the future. that evening our travellers encamped in close proximity to the crater, supped on fowls roasted in an open crevice whence issued steam and sulphurous smells, and slept with the geyser's intermittent roar sounding in their ears and re-echoing in their dreams. chapter xxiii. tells of volcanic fires and a strange return "home." this tremendous introduction to volcanic fires was but the prelude to a period of eruptive action which has not been paralleled in the world's history. for a short time after this, indeed, the genial nature of the weather tended to banish from the minds of our travellers all thoughts of violence either in terrestrial or human affairs, and as the professor devoted himself chiefly to the comparatively mild occupation of catching and transfixing butterflies and beetles during the march southward, there seemed to be nothing in the wide universe above or below save peace and tranquillity--except, perhaps, in the minds of beetles and butterflies! throughout all this period, nevertheless, there were ominous growlings, grumblings, and tremors--faint but frequent--which indicated a condition of mother earth that could not have been called easy. "some of the volcanoes of java must be at work, i think," said nigel one night, as the party sat in a small isolated wood-cutter's hut discussing a supper of rice and fowls with his friends, which they were washing down with home-grown coffee. "it may be so," said van der kemp in a dubious tone; "but the sounds, though faint, seem to me a good deal nearer. i can't help thinking that the craters which have so recently opened up in krakatoa are still active, and that it may be necessary for me to shift my quarters, for my cave is little more, i suspect, than the throat of an ancient volcano." "hah! say you so, mine frond? zen i vould advise you to make no delay," said the professor, critically examining a well-picked drumstick. "you see, it is not pleasant to be blown up eizer by the terrestrial eruptions of zee vorld or zee celestial explosions of your vife.--a leetle more rice, moses if you please. zanks." "now, mine fronds," he continued, after having disposed of a supper which it might have taxed a volcano's throat to swallow, "it is viz great sorrow zat i must part from you here." "part! why?" asked the hermit in surprise. "vy, because i find zis contrie is heaven upon eart'. zat is, of course, only in a scientific point of view. zee voods are svarming, zee air is teeming, ant zee vaters are vallo'ing vit life. i cannot tear myself avay. but ve shall meet again--at telok betong, or krakatoa, or anjer, or batavia." it was found that the man of science was also a man of decision. nothing would persuade him to go a step further. the wood-cutter's hut suited him, so did the wood-cutter himself, and so, as he said, did the region around him. with much regret, therefore, and an earnest invitation from the hermit to visit his cave, and range the almost unexplored woods of his island, the travellers parted from him; and our three adventurers, dismissing all attendants and hiring three ponies, continued their journey to the southern shores of sumatra. as they advanced it soon became evident that the scene of volcanic activity was not so far distant as the island of java, for the air was frequently darkened by the falling of volcanic dust which covered the land with a greyish powder. as, however, at least sixteen volcanoes have been registered in the island of sumatra, and there are probably many others, it was impossible to decide where the scene of eruption was that caused those signs. one afternoon the travellers witnessed a catastrophe which induced them to forego all idea of spending more time in examining the country. they had arrived at a village where they found a traveller who appeared to be going about without any special object in view. he spoke english, but with a foreign accent. nigel naturally felt a desire to become sociable with him, but he was very taciturn and evidently wished to avoid intercourse with chance acquaintances. hearing that there were curious hot-water and mud springs not far off, the stranger expressed a desire to visit them. nigel also felt anxious to see them, and as one guide was sufficient for the party the stranger joined the party and they went together. the spot they were led to was evidently a mere crust of earth covering fierce subterranean fires. in the centre of it a small pond of mud was boiling and bubbling furiously, and round this, on the indurated clay, were smaller wells and craters full of boiling mud. the ground near them was obviously unsafe, for it bent under pressure like thin ice, and at some of the cracks and fissures the sulphurous vapour was so hot that the hand could not be held to it without being scalded. nigel and the stranger walked close behind the native guide, both, apparently, being anxious to get as near as possible to the central pond. but the guide stopped suddenly, and, looking back, said to van der kemp that it was not safe to approach nearer. nigel at once stopped, and, looking at the stranger, was struck by the wild, incomprehensible expression of his face as he continued to advance. "stop! stop, sir!" cried the hermit on observing this, but the man paid no attention to the warning. another instant and the crust on which he stood gave way and he sank into a horrible gulf from which issued a gust of sulphurous vapour and steam. the horror which almost overwhelmed nigel did not prevent him bounding forward to the rescue. well was it for him at that time that a cooler head than his own was near. the strong hand of the hermit seized his collar on the instant, and he was dragged backward out of danger, while an appalling shriek from the stranger as he disappeared told that the attempt to succour him would have been too late. a terrible event of this kind has usually the effect of totally changing, at least for a time, the feelings of those who witness it, so as to almost incapacitate them from appreciating ordinary events or things. for some days after witnessing the sudden and awful fate of this unknown man, nigel travelled as if in a dream, taking little notice of, or interest in, anything, and replying to questions in mere monosyllables. his companions seemed to be similarly affected, for they spoke very little. even the volatile spirit of moses appeared to be subdued, and it was not till they had reached nearly the end of their journey that their usual flow of spirits returned. arriving one night at a village not very far from the southern shores of sumatra they learned that the hermit's presentiments were justified, and that the volcano which was causing so much disturbance in the islands of the archipelago was, indeed, the long extinct one of krakatoa. "i've heard a good deal about it from one of the chief men here," said the hermit as he returned to his friends that night about supper-time. "he tells me that it has been more or less in moderate eruption ever since we left the island, but adds that nobody takes much notice of it, as they don't expect it to increase much in violence. i don't agree with them in that," he added gravely. "why not?" asked nigel. "partly because of the length of time that has elapsed since its last eruption in ; partly from the fact that that eruption--judging from appearances--must have been a very tremendous one, and partly because my knowledge of volcanic action leads me to expect it; but i could not easily explain the reason for my conclusions on the latter point. i have just been to the brow of a ridge not far off whence i have seen the glow in the sky of the krakatoa fires. they do not, however, appear to be very fierce at the present moment." as he spoke there was felt by the travellers a blow, as if of an explosion under the house in which they sat. it was a strong vertical bump which nearly tossed them all off their chairs. van der kemp and his man, after an exclamation or two, continued supper like men who were used to such interruptions, merely remarking that it was an earthquake. but nigel, to whom it was not quite so familiar, stood up for a few seconds with a look of anxious uncertainty, as if undecided as to the path of duty and prudence in the circumstances. moses relieved him. "sot down, massa nadgel," said that sable worthy, as he stuffed his mouth full of rice; "it's easier to sot dan to stand w'en its eart'quakin'." nigel sat down with a tendency to laugh, for at that moment he chanced to glance at the rafters above, where he saw a small anxious-faced monkey gazing down at him. he was commenting on this creature when another prolonged shock of earthquake came. it was not a bump like the previous one, but a severe vibration which only served to shake the men in their chairs, but it shook the small monkey off the rafter, and the miserable little thing fell with a shriek and a flop into the rice-dish! "git out o' dat--you scoundril!" exclaimed moses, but the order was needless, for the monkey bounced out of it like indiarubber and sought to hide its confusion in the thatch, while moses helped himself to some more of the rice, which, he said; was none the worse for being monkeyfied! at last our travellers found themselves in the town of telok betong, where, being within forty-five miles of krakatoa, the hermit could both see and hear that his island-home was in violent agitation; tremendous explosions occurring frequently, while dense masses of smoke were ascending from its craters. "i'm happy to find," said the hermit, soon after their arrival in the town, "that the peak of rakata, on the southern part of the island where my cave lies, is still quiet and has shown no sign of breaking out. and now i shall go and see after my canoe." "do you think it safe to venture to visit your cave?" asked nigel. "well, not absolutely safe," returned the hermit with a peculiar smile, "but, of course, if you think it unwise to run the risk of--" "i asked a simple question, van der kemp, without any thought of myself," interrupted the youth, as he flushed deeply. "forgive me, nigel," returned the hermit quickly and gravely, "it is but my duty to point out that we cannot go there without running _some_ risk." "and it is _my_ duty to point out," retorted his hurt friend, "that when any man, worthy of the name, agrees to follow another, he agrees to accept all risks." to this the hermit vouchsafed no further reply than a slight smile and nod of intelligence. thereafter he went off alone to inquire about his canoe, which, it will be remembered, his friend, the captain of the steamer, had promised to leave for him at this place. telok betong, which was one of the severest sufferers by the eruption of , is a small town at the head of lampong bay, opposite to the island of krakatoa, from which it is between forty and fifty miles distant. it is built on a narrow strip of land at the base of a steep mountain, but little above the sea, and is the chief town of the lampong residency, which forms the most southerly province of sumatra. at the time we write of, the only european residents of the place were connected with government. the rest of the population was composed of a heterogeneous mass of natives mingled with a number of chinese, a few arabs, and a large fluctuating population of traders from borneo, celebes, new guinea, siam, and the other innumerable isles of the archipelago. these were more or less connected with praus laden with the rich and varied merchandise of the eastern seas. as each man in the town had been permitted to build his house according to his own fancy, picturesque irregularity was the agreeable result. it may be added that, as each man spoke his own language in his own tones, babel and noise were the consequence. in a small hut by the waterside the hermit found the friend--a malay--to whom his canoe had been consigned, and, in a long low shed close by, he found the canoe itself with the faithful spinkie in charge. "don't go near the canoe till you've made friends with the monkey," said the malay in his own tongue, as he was about to put the key in the door. "why not?" asked the hermit. "because it is the savagest brute i ever came across," said the man. "it won't let a soul come near the canoe. i would have killed it long ago if the captain of the steamer had not told me you wished it to be taken great care of. there, look out! the vixen is not tied up." he flung open the shed-door and revealed spinkie seated in his old place, much deteriorated in appearance and scowling malevolently. the instant the poor creature heard its master's voice and saw his form--for his features must have been invisible against the strong light--the scowl vanished from its little visage. with a shriek of joy it sprang like an acrobat from a spring-board and plunged into the hermit's bosom--to the alarm of the malay, who thought this was a furious attack. we need not say that van der kemp received his faithful little servant kindly, and it was quite touching to observe the monkey's intense affection for him. it could not indeed wag its tail like a dog, but it put its arms round its master's neck with a wondrously human air, and rubbed its little head in his beard and whiskers, drawing itself back now and then, putting its black paws on his cheeks, turning his face round to the light and opening its round eyes wide--as well as its round little mouth--as if to make sure of his identity--then plunging into the whiskers again, and sometimes, when unable to contain its joy, finding a safety-valve in a little shriek. when the meeting and greeting were over, van der kemp explained that he would require his canoe by daybreak the following morning, ordered a few provisions to be got ready, and turned to leave. "you must get down, spinkie, and watch the canoe for one night more," said the hermit, quietly. but spinkie did not seem to perceive the necessity, for he clung closer to his master with a remonstrative croak. "get down, spinkie," said the hermit firmly, "and watch the canoe." the poor beast had apparently learned that medo-persic law was not more unchangeable than van der kemp's commands! at all events it crept down his arm and leg, waddled slowly over the floor of the shed with bent back and wrinkled brow, like a man of ninety, and took up its old position on the deck, the very personification of superannuated woe. the hermit patted its head gently, however, thus relieving its feelings, and probably introducing hope into its little heart before leaving. then he returned to his friends and bade them prepare for immediate departure. it was the night of the th of august, and as the eruptions of the volcano appeared to be getting more and more violent, van der kemp's anxiety to reach his cave became visibly greater. "i have been told," said the hermit to nigel, as they went down with moses to the place where the canoe had been left, "the history of krakatoa since we left. a friend informs me that a short time after our departure the eruptions subsided a little, and the people here had ceased to pay much attention to them, but about the middle of june the volcanic activity became more violent, and on the th, in particular, it was observed that the vapour column and the force of the explosions were decidedly on the increase." "at katimbang, from which place the island can be seen, it was noticed that a second column of vapour was ascending from the centre of the island, and that the appearance of perboewatan had entirely changed, its conspicuous summit having apparently been blown away. in july there were some explosions of exceptional violence, and i have now no doubt that it was these we heard in the interior of this island when we were travelling hither, quite lately. on the th of this month, i believe, the island was visited in a boat by a government officer, but he did not land, owing to the heavy masses of vapour and dust driven about by the wind, which also prevented him from making a careful examination, but he could see that the forests of nearly the whole island have been destroyed--only a few trunks of blighted trees being left standing above the thick covering of pumice and dust. he reported that the dust near the shore was found to be twenty inches thick." "if so," said nigel, "i fear that the island will be no longer fit to inhabit." "i know not," returned the hermit sadly, in a musing tone. "the officer reported that there is no sign of eruption at rakata, so that my house is yet safe, for no showers of pumice, however deep, can injure the cave." nigel was on the point of asking his friend why he was so anxious to revisit the island at such a time, but, recollecting his recent tiff on that subject, refrained. afterwards, however, when van der kemp was settling accounts with the malay, he put the question to moses. "i can't help wondering," he said, "that van der kemp should be so anxious to get back to his cave just now. if he were going in a big boat to save some of his goods and chattels i could understand it, but the canoe, you know, could carry little more than her ordinary lading." "well, massa nadgel," said moses, "it's my opinion dat he wants to go back 'cause he's got an uncommon affekshnit heart." "how? surely you don't mean that his love of the mere place is so strong that--" "no, no, massa nadgel--'s not dat. but he was awrful fond ob his wife an' darter, an' i know he's got a photogruff ob 'em bof togidder, an' i t'ink he'd sooner lose his head dan lose dat, for i've seed him look at 'em for hours, an' kiss 'em sometimes w'en he t'ought i was asleep." the return of the hermit here abruptly stopped the conversation. the canoe was carried down and put into the water, watched with profound interest by hundreds of natives and traders, who were all more or less acquainted with the hermit of rakata. it was still daylight when they paddled out into lampong bay, but the volumes of dust which rose from krakatoa--although nearly fifty miles off--did much to produce an unusually early twilight. "goin' to be bery dark, massa," remarked moses as they glided past the shipping. "shall i light de lamp?" "do, moses, but we shan't need it, for as we get nearer home the volcanic fires will light us on our way." "de volcanic dust is a-goin' to powder us on our way too, massa. keep your hands out o' the way, spinkie," said the negro as he fixed a small oil-lamp to the mast, and resumed his paddle. "after we get out a bit the wind will help us," said the hermit. "yes, massa, if he don't blow too strong," returned moses, as a squall came rushing down the mountains and swept over the bay, ruffling its now dark waters into foaming wavelets. altogether, what with the increasing darkness and the hissing squall, and the night-voyage before them, and the fires of krakatoa which were now clearly visible on the horizon, nigel boy felt a more eerie sensation in his breast than he ever remembered to have experienced in all his previous life, but he scorned to admit the fact--even to himself, and said, mentally, that it was rather romantic than otherwise! just then there burst upon their ears the yell of a steam-whistle, and a few moments later a steamer bore straight down on them, astern. "steamer ahoy!" shouted van der kemp. "will ye throw us a rope?" "ay! ay!--ease 'er!--stop 'er! where are 'ee bound for?" demanded an unmistakably english voice. "krakatoa!" replied the hermit. "where are you?" "anjer, on the java coast. do 'ee want to be smothered, roasted, and blown up?" asked the captain, looking down on the canoe as it ranged alongside the dark hull. "no, we want to get home." "home! well, you're queer fellows in a queer eggshell for such waters. every man to his taste. look out for the rope!" "all right, cappen," cried moses as he caught the coil. next moment the steamer went ahead, and the canoe ploughed over the sunda straits at the rate of thirteen miles an hour, with her sharp prow high out of the water, and the stern correspondingly low. the voyage, which would have otherwise cost our three travellers a long laborious night and part of next day, was by this means so greatly shortened that when daybreak arrived they were not more than thirteen miles to the east of krakatoa. nearer than this the steamboat could not take them without going out of her course, but as van der kemp and nigel gratefully acknowledged, it was quite near enough. "well, i should just think it was rather too near!" said the captain with a grin. and, truly, he was justified in making the remark, for the explosions from the volcano had by that time become not only very frequent, but tremendously loud, while the dense cloud which hung above it and spread far and wide over the sky covered the sea with a kind of twilight that struggled successfully against the full advent of day. lightning too was playing among the rolling black masses of smoke, and the roaring explosions every now and then seemed to shake the very heavens. casting off the tow-rope, they turned the bow of their canoe to the island. as a stiffish breeze was blowing, they set the sails, close-reefed, and steered for the southern shore at that part which lay under the shadow of rakata. chapter xxiv. an awful night and terrible morning. it was a matter of some satisfaction to find on drawing near to the shore that the peak of rakata was still intact, and that, although most other parts of the island which could be seen were blighted by fire and covered deeply with pumice dust, much of the forest in the immediate neighbourhood of the cave was still undestroyed though considerably damaged. "d'you think our old harbour will be available, moses?" asked van der kemp as they came close to the first headland. "pr'aps. bes' go an' see," was the negro's practical reply. "evidently rakata is not yet active," said nigel, looking up at the grey dust-covered crags as the canoe glided swiftly through the dark water. "that is more than can be said for the other craters," returned the hermit. "it seems to me that not only all the old ones are at work, but a number of new ones must have been opened." the constant roaring and explosions that filled their ears and the rain of fine ashes bore testimony to the truth of this, though the solid and towering mass of rakata rose between them and the part of krakatoa which was in eruption, preventing their seeing anything that was passing except the dense masses of smoke, steam, and dust which rose many miles into the heavens, obstructing the light of day, but forming cloud-masses from which the lurid flames of the volcano were reflected downward. on reaching the little bay or harbour it was found much as they had left it, save that the rocks and bushes around were thickly covered with dust, and their boat was gone. "strange! at such a time one would scarcely have expected thieves to come here," said the hermit, looking slowly round. "no t'ief bin here, massa," said moses, looking over the side of the canoe. "i see de boat!" he pointed downwards as he spoke, and on looking over the side they saw the wreck of the boat at the bottom, in about ten feet of water, and crushed beneath a ponderous mass of lava, which must have been ejected from the volcano and afterwards descended upon the boat. the destruction of the boat rendered it impossible to remove any of the property of the hermit, and nigel now saw, from his indifference, that this could not have been the cause of his friend's anxiety and determination to reach his island home in spite of the danger that such a course entailed. that there was considerable danger soon became very obvious, for, having passed to some extent at this point beyond the shelter of the cliffs of rakata, and come partly into view of the other parts of the island, the real extent of the volcanic violence burst upon nigel and moses as a new revelation. the awful sublimity of the scene at first almost paralysed them, and they failed to note that not only did a constant rain of pumice dust fall upon them, but that there was also a pretty regular dropping of small stones into the water around them. their attention was sharply aroused to this fact by the fall of a lump of semi-molten rock, about the size of a cannon shot, a short distance off, which was immediately followed by not less than a cubic yard of lava which fell close to the canoe and deluged them with spray. "we must go," said the hermit quietly. "no need to expose ourselves here, though the watching of the tremendous forces that our creator has at command does possess a wonderful kind of fascination. it seems to me the more we see of his power as exerted on our little earth, the more do we realise the paltriness of our conception of the stupendous might that upholds the universe." while he was speaking, van der kemp guided the canoe into its little haven, and in a few minutes he and moses had carried it into the shelter of the cave out of which nigel had first seen it emerge. then the lading was carried up, after which they turned into the track which led to the hermit's home. the whole operation may be said to have been performed under fire, for small masses of rock kept pattering continually on the dust-covered ground around them, causing cloudlets, like smoke, to spring up wherever they struck. nigel and moses could not resist glancing upward now and then as they moved quickly to and fro, and they experienced a shrinking sensation when a stone fell very near them, but each scorned to exhibit the smallest trace of anxiety, or to suggest that the sooner they got from under fire the better! as for van der kemp, he moved about deliberately as if there was nothing unusual going on, and with an absent look on his grave face as though the outbursts of smoke, and fire, and lava, which turned the face of day into lurid night, and caused the cliffs to reverberate with unwonted thunders, had no effect whatever on his mind. a short walk, however, along the track, which was more than ankle-deep in dust, brought them under the sheltering sides of rakata, up which they soon scrambled to the mouth of their cave. here all was found as they had left it, save that the entrance was knee-deep in pumice dust. and now a new and very strange sensation was felt by each of them, for the loud reports and crackling sounds which had assailed their ears outside were reduced by the thick walls of the cave to a continuous dull groan, as it were, like the soft but thunderous bass notes of a stupendous organ. to these sounds were added others which seemed to be peculiar to the cave itself. they appeared to rise from crevices in the floor, and were no doubt due to the action of those pent-up subterranean fires which were imprisoned directly, though it may be very far down, under their feet. every now and then there came a sudden increase of the united sounds as if the "swell" of the great organ had been opened, and such out-gushing was always accompanied with more or less of indescribable shocks followed by prolonged tremors of the entire mountain. if the three friends had been outside to observe what was taking place, they would have seen that these symptoms were simultaneous with occasional and extremely violent outbursts from the crater of perboewatan and his compeers. indeed they guessed as much, and two of them at least were not a little thankful that, awesome as their position was, they had the thick mountain between them and the fiery showers outside. of all this the hermit took no notice, but, hastening into the inner cavern, opened a small box, and took therefrom a bundle of papers and a little object which, at a first glance, nigel supposed to be a book, but which turned out to be a photograph case. these the hermit put carefully into the breastpocket of his coat and then turned to his companions with a sigh as if of relief. "i think there is no danger of anything occurring at this part of the island," he remarked, looking round the cave, "for there is no sign of smoke and no sulphurous smell issuing from any of the crevices in walls or floor. this, i think, shows that there is no direct communication with rakata and the active volcano--at least not at present." "do you then think there is a possibility of an outbreak at some future period?" asked nigel. "who can tell? people here, who don't study the nature of volcanoes much, though surrounded by them, will expect things ere long to resume their normal condition. i can never forget the fact that the greater part of krakatoa stands, as you know, exactly above the spot where the two great lines of volcanic action cross, and right over the mouth of the immense crater to which perboewatan and all the other craters serve as mere chimneys or safety-valves. we cannot tell whether a great eruption similar to that of may not be in store for us. the only reason that i can see for the quiescence of this peak of rakata is, as i said to you once before, that it stands not so much above the old crater as above and on the safe side of its lip." "i t'ink, massa, if i may ventur' to speak," said moses, "dat de sooner we git off his lip de better lest we tumble into his mout'." "you may be right, moses, and i have no objection to quit," returned the hermit, "now that i have secured the photograph and papers. at the same time i fear the rain of stones and lava is growing worse. it might be safer to stay till there is a lull in the violence of the eruption, and then make a dash for it. what say you, nigel?" "i say that you know best, van der kemp. i'm ready to abide by your decision, whatever it be." "well, then, we will go out and have a look at the state of matters." the view from the entrance was not calculated to tempt them to forsake the shelter of the cave, however uncertain that might be. the latest explosions had enshrouded the island in such a cloud of smoke and dust, that nothing whatever was visible beyond a few yards in front, and even that space was only seen by the faint rays of the lamp issuing from the outer cave. this lamp-light was sufficient, however, to show that within the semicircle of a few yards there was a continuous rain of grey ashes and dust mingled with occasional stones of various sizes--some larger than a man's fist. "to go out in that would be simply to court death," said nigel, whose voice was almost drowned by the noise of the explosions and fall of material. as it was manifest that nothing could be done at the moment except to wait patiently, they returned to the cave, where they lighted the oil-stove, and moses--who had taken the precaution to carry up some provisions in a bag from the canoe--proceeded to prepare a meal. "stummicks must be attended to," he murmured to himself as he moved about the cave-kitchen and shook his head gravely. "collapses in dat region is wuss, a long way, dan 'splosion of the eart'!" meanwhile, nigel and the hermit went to examine the passage leading to the observatory. the eruption had evidently done nothing to it, for, having passed upwards without difficulty, they finally emerged upon the narrow ledge. the scene that burst upon their astonished gaze here was awful in the extreme. it will be remembered that while the hermit's cave was on the southern side of krakatoa, facing java, the stair and passage leading to the observatory completely penetrated the peak of rakata, so that when standing on the ledge they faced northward and were thus in full view of all the craters between them and perboewatan. these were in full blast at the time, and, being so near, the heat, as well as the dust, molten lava, and other missiles, instantly drove them back under the protection of the passage from which they had emerged. here they found a small aperture which appeared to have been recently formed--probably by a blow from a mass of falling rock--through which they were able to obtain a glimpse of the pandemonium that lay seething below them. they could not see much, however, owing to the smoke which filled the air. the noise of the almost continuous explosions was so loud, that it was impossible to converse save by placing the mouth to the ear and shouting. fortunately soon after their ascent the wind shifted and blew smoke, fire, and dust away to the northward, enabling them to get out on the ledge, where for a time they remained in comparative safety. "look! look at your mirrors!" exclaimed nigel suddenly, as his wandering gaze happened to turn to the hermit's sun-guides. and he might well exclaim, for not only was the glass of these ingenious machines shivered and melted, but their iron frameworks were twisted up into fantastic shapes. "lightning has been at work here," said van der kemp. it did not at the moment occur to either of them that the position on which they stood was peculiarly liable to attack by the subtle and dangerous fluid which was darting and zig-zagging everywhere among the rolling clouds of smoke and steam. a louder report than usual here drew their attention again to the tremendous scene that was going on in front of them. the extreme summit of perboewatan had been blown into a thousand fragments, which were hurtling upwards and crackling loudly as the smaller masses were impelled against each other in their skyward progress. this crackling has been described by those who heard it from neighbouring shores as a "strange rustling sound." to our hermit and his friend, who were, so to speak, in the very midst of it, the sound rather resembled the continuous musketry of a battle-field, while the louder explosions might be compared to the booming of artillery, though they necessarily lose by the comparison, for no invention of man ever produced sounds equal to those which thundered at that time from the womb of krakatoa. immediately after this, a fountain of molten lava at white heat welled up in the great throat that had been so violently widened, and, overflowing the edges of the crater, rolled down its sides in fiery rivers. all the other craters in the island became active at the same moment and a number of new ones burst forth. indeed it seemed to those who watched them that if these had not opened up to give vent to the suppressed forces the whole island must have been blown away. as it was, the sudden generation of so much excessive heat set fire to what remained of trees and everything combustible, so that the island appeared to be one vast seething conflagration, and darkness was for a time banished by a red glare that seemed to nigel far more intense than that of noonday. it is indeed the partiality (if we may say so) of conflagration-light which gives to it the character of impressive power with which we are all so familiar--the intense lights being here cut sharply off by equally intense shadows, and then grading into dull reds and duller greys. the sun, on the other hand, bathes everything in its genial glow so completely that all nature is permeated with it, and there are no intense contrasts, no absolutely black and striking shadows, except in caverns and holes, to form startling contrasts. "these safety-valves," said the hermit, referring to the new craters, "have, under god, been the means of saving us from destruction." "it would seem so," said nigel, who was too overwhelmed by the sight to say much. even as he spoke the scene changed as if by magic, for from the cone of perboewatan there issued a spout of liquid fire, followed by a roar so tremendous that the awe-struck men shrank within themselves, feeling as though that time had really come when the earth is to melt with fervent heat! the entire lake of glowing lava was shot into the air, and lost in the clouds above, while mingled smoke and steam went bellowing after it, and dust fell so thickly that it seemed as if sufficient to extinguish the raging fires. whether it did so or not is uncertain. it may have been that the new pall of black vapour only obscured them. at all events, after the outburst the darkness of night fell suddenly on all around. just then the wind again changed, and the whole mass of vapour, smoke, and ashes came sweeping like the very besom of destruction towards the giddy ledge on which the observers stood. nigel was so entranced that it is probable he might have been caught in the horrible tempest and lost had not his cooler companion grasped his arm and dragged him violently into the passage--where they were safe, though half suffocated by the heat and sulphurous vapours that followed them. at the same time the thunderous roaring became so loud that conversation was impossible. van der kemp therefore took his friend's hand and led him down to the cave, where the sounds were so greatly subdued as to seem almost a calm by contrast. "we are no doubt in great danger," said the hermit, gravely, as he sat down in the outer cave, "but there is no possibility of taking action to-night. here we are, whether wisely or unwisely, and here we must remain--at least till there is a lull in the eruption. 'god is our refuge.' he ought to be so at _all_ times, but there are occasions when this great, and, i would add, glorious fact is pressed upon our understandings with unusual power. such a time is this. come--we will see what his word says to us just now." to nigel's surprise, and, he afterwards confessed, to his comfort and satisfaction, the hermit called the negro from his work, and, taking down the large bible from its shelf, read part of the th psalm, "god is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea." he stopped reading at the verse where it is written, "be still, and know that i am god." then, going down on his knees,--without even the familiar formula, "let us pray"--he uttered a brief but earnest prayer for guidance and deliverance "in the name of jesus." rising, he quietly put the bible away, and, with the calmness of a thoroughly practical man, who looks upon religion and ordinary matters as parts of one grand whole, ordered moses to serve the supper. thus they spent part of that memorable night of th august in earnest social intercourse, conversing chiefly and naturally about the character, causes, and philosophy of volcanoes, while perboewatan and his brethren played a rumbling, illustrative accompaniment to their discourse. the situation was a peculiar one. even the negro was alive to that fact. "ain't it koorious," he remarked solemnly in a moment of confidence after swallowing the last bite of his supper. "ain't it koorious, massa nadgel, dat we're a sottin' here comf'rably enjoyin' our wittles ober de mout' ob a v'licano as is quite fit to blow us all to bits an' hois' us into de bery middle ob next week--if not farder?" "it is strange indeed, moses," said nigel, who however added no commentary, feeling indisposed to pursue the subject. seeing this, moses turned to his master. "massa," he said. "you don' want nuffin' more to-night, i s'pose?" "no, moses, nothing." "an' is you _quite_ easy in your mind?" "quite," replied the hermit with his peculiar little smile. "den it would be wuss dan stoopid for me to be _on_easy, so i'll bid ye bof good-night, an' turn in." in this truly trustful as well as philosophical state of mind, the negro retired to his familiar couch in the inner cave, and went to sleep. nigel and the hermit sat up for some time longer. "van der kemp," said the former, after a pause, "i--i trust you won't think me actuated by impertinent curiosity if i venture to ask you about --the--photograph that i think you----" "my young friend!" interrupted the hermit, taking the case in question from his breast pocket; "i should rather apologise to you for having appeared to make any mystery of it--and yet," he added, pausing as he was about to open the case, "i have not shown it to a living soul since the day that--well, well,--why should i hesitate? it is all i have left of my dead wife and child." he placed the case in the hands of nigel, who almost sprang from his seat with excitement as he beheld the countenance of a little child of apparently three or four years of age, who so exactly resembled kathy holbein--allowing of course for the difference of age--that he had now no doubt whatever as to her being the hermit's lost daughter. he was on the point of uttering her name, when uncertainty as to the effect the sudden disclosure might have upon the father checked him. "you seem surprised, my friend," said van der kemp gently. "most beautiful!" said nigel, gazing intently at the portrait. "that dear child's face seems so familiar to me that i could almost fancy i had seen it." he looked earnestly into his friend's face as he spoke, but the hermit was quite unmoved, and there was not a shadow of change in the sad low tone of his voice as he said-- "yes, she was indeed beautiful, like her mother. as to your fancy about having seen it--mankind is formed in groups and types. we see many faces that resemble others." the absent look that was so common to the solitary man here overspread his massive features, and nigel felt crushed, as it were, back into himself. thus, without having disclosed his belief, he retired to rest in a very anxious state of mind, while the hermit watched. "don't take off your clothes," he said. "if the sounds outside lead me to think things are quieting down, i will rouse you and we shall start at once." it was very early on the morning of the th when van der kemp roused our hero. "are things quieter?" asked nigel as he rose. "yes, a little, but not much--nevertheless we must venture to leave." "is it daylight yet?" "no. there will be no daylight to-day!" with which prophecy the hermit left him and went to rouse moses. "massa," said the faithful negro. "isn't you a goin' to take nuffin' wid you? none ob de books or t'ings?" "no--nothing except the old bible. all the rest i leave behind. the canoe could not carry much. besides, we may have little time. get ready; quick! and follow me." moses required no spur. the three men left the cave together. it was so intensely dark that the road could not be distinguished, but the hermit and his man were so familiar with it that they could have followed it blindfold. on reaching the cave at the harbour, some light was obtained from the fitful outbursts of the volcano, which enabled them to launch the canoe and push off in safety. then, without saying a word to each other, they coasted along the shore of the island, and, finally, leaving its dangers behind, them, made for the island of java--poor spinkie sitting in his accustomed place and looking uncommonly subdued! scarcely had they pushed off into sunda straits when the volcano burst out afresh. they had happily seized on the only quiet hour that the day offered, and had succeeded, by the aid of the sails, in getting several miles from the island without receiving serious injury, although showers of stones and masses of rock of all sizes were falling into the sea around them. van der kemp was so far right in his prophecy that there would be no daylight that day. by that time there should have been light, as it was nearly seven o'clock on the memorable morning of the th of august. but now, although the travellers were some miles distant from krakatoa, the gloom was so impervious that nigel, from his place in the centre of the canoe, could not see the form of poor spinkie--which sat clinging to the mast only two feet in front of him--save when a blaze from perboewatan or one of the other craters lighted up island and ocean with a vivid glare. at this time the sea began to run very high and the wind increased to a gale, so that the sails of the canoe, small though they were, had to be reduced. "lower the foresail, nigel," shouted the hermit. "i will close-reef it. do you the same to the mainsail." "ay, ay, sir," was the prompt reply. moses and nigel kept the little craft straight to the wind while the foresail was being reefed, van der kemp and the former performing the same duty while nigel reefed the mainsail. suddenly there came a brief but total cessation of the gale, though not of the tumultuous heaving of the waters. during that short interval there burst upon the world a crash and a roar so tremendous that for a few moments the voyagers were almost stunned! it is no figure of speech to say that the _world_ heard the crash. hundreds, ay, thousands of miles did the sound of that mighty upheaval pass over land and sea to startle, more or less, the nations of the earth. the effect of a stupendous shock on the nervous system is curiously various in different individuals. the three men who were so near to the volcano at that moment involuntarily looked round and saw by the lurid blaze that an enormous mass of krakatoa, rent from top to bottom, was falling headlong into the sea; while the entire heavens were alive with flame, lightning, steam, smoke, and the upward-shooting fragments of the hideous wreck! the hermit calmly rested his paddle on the deck and gazed around in silent wonder. nigel, not less smitten with awe, held his paddle with an iron grasp, every muscle quivering with tension in readiness for instant action when the need for action should appear. moses, on the other hand, turning round from the sight with glaring eyes, resumed paddling with unreasoning ferocity, and gave vent at once to his feelings and his opinion in the sharp exclamation--"blown to bits!" [illustration: blown to bits--page .] chapter xxv. adventures of the "sunshine" and an unexpected reunion. we must request the reader to turn back now for a brief period to a very different scene. a considerable time before the tremendous catastrophe described in the last chapter--which we claim to have recorded without the slightest exaggeration, inasmuch as exaggeration were impossible--captain david roy, of the good brig _sunshine_, received the letter which his son wrote to him while in the jungles of sumatra. the captain was seated in the back office of a batavian merchant at the time, smoking a long clay pipe--on the principle, no doubt, that moderate poisoning is conducive to moderate health! as he perused the letter, the captain's eyes slowly opened; so did his mouth, and the clay pipe, falling to the floor, was reduced to little pieces. but the captain evidently cared nothing for that. he gave forth a prolonged whistle, got up, smote upon his thigh, and exclaimed with deep-toned emphasis-- "the _rascal_!" then he sat down again and re-perused the letter, with a variety of expression on his face that might have recalled the typical april day, minus the tears. "the rascal!" he repeated, as he finished the second reading of the letter and thrust it into his pocket. "i knew there was somethin' i' the wind wi' that little girl! the memory o' my own young days when i boarded and captured the poetess is strong upon me yet. i saw it in the rascal's eye the very first time they met--an' he thinks i'm as blind as a bat, i'll be bound, with his poetical reef-point-pattering sharpness. but it's a strange discovery he has made and must be looked into. the young dog! he gives me orders as if he were the owner." jumping up, captain roy hurried out into the street. in passing the outer office he left a message with one of the clerks for his friend the merchant. "tell him," he said, "that i'll attend to that little business about the bill when i come back. i'm going to sail for the keeling islands this afternoon." "the keeling islands?" exclaimed the clerk in surprise. "yes--i've got business to do there. i'll be back, all bein' well, in a week--more or less." the clerk's eyebrows remained in a raised position for a few moments, until he remembered that captain roy, being owner of his ship and cargo, was entitled to do what he pleased with his own and himself. then they descended, and he went on with his work, amusing himself with the thought that the most curious beings in the world were seafaring men. "mr. moor," said the captain somewhat excitedly, as he reached the deck of his vessel, "are all the men aboard?" "all except jim sloper, sir." "then send and hunt up jim sloper at once, for we sail this afternoon for the keeling islands." "very well, sir." mr. moor was a phlegmatic man; a self-contained and a reticent man. if captain roy had told him to get ready to sail to the moon that afternoon, he would probably have said "very well, sir," in the same tone and with the same expression. "may i ask, sir, what sort of cargo you expect there?" said mr. moor; for to his practical mind some re-arrangement of the cargo already on board might be necessary for the reception of that to be picked up at keeling. "the cargo we'll take on board will be a girl," said the captain. "a what, sir?". "a girl." "very well, sir." this ended the business part of the conversation. thereafter they went into details so highly nautical that we shrink from recording them. an amateur detective, in the form of a shipmate, having captured jim sloper, the _sunshine_ finally cleared out of the port of batavia that evening, shortly before its namesake took his departure from that part of the southern hemisphere. favouring gales carried the brig swiftly through sunda straits and out into the indian ocean. two days and a half brought her to the desired haven. on the way, captain roy took note of the condition of krakatoa, which at that time was quietly working up its subterranean forces with a view to the final catastrophe; opening a safety-valve now and then to prevent, as it were, premature explosion. "my son's friend, the hermit of rakata," said the captain to his second mate, "will find his cave too hot to hold him, i think, when he returns." "looks like it, sir," said mr. moor, glancing up at the vast clouds which were at that time spreading like a black pall over the re-awakened volcano. "do you expect 'em back soon, sir?" "yes--time's about up now. i shouldn't wonder if they reach batavia before us." arrived at the keeling islands, captain roy was received, as usual, with acclamations of joy, but he found that he was by no means as well fitted to act the part of a diplomatist as he was to sail a ship. it was, in truth, a somewhat delicate mission on which his son had sent him, for he could not assert definitely that the hermit actually was kathleen holbein's father, and her self-constituted parents did not relish the idea of letting slip, on a mere chance, one whom they loved as a daughter. "why not bring this man who claims to be her father _here_?" asked the perplexed holbein. "because--because, p'raps he won't come," answered the puzzled mariner, who did not like to say that he was simply and strictly obeying his son's orders. "besides," he continued, "the man does not claim to be anything at all. so far as i understand it, my boy has not spoken to him on the subject, for fear, i suppose, of raisin' hopes that ain't to be realised." "he is right in that," said mrs. holbein, "and we must be just as careful not to raise false hopes in dear little kathy. as your son says, it may be a mistake after all. we must not open our lips to her about it." "right you are, madam," returned the captain. "mum's the word; and we've only got to say she's goin' to visit one of your old friends in anjer--which'll be quite true, you know, for the landlady o' the chief hotel there is a great friend o' yours, and we'll take kathy to her straight. besides, the trip will do her health a power o' good, though i'm free to confess it don't need no good to be done to it, bein' a. at the present time. now, just you agree to give the girl a holiday, an' i'll pledge myself to bring her back safe and sound--with her father, if he's _him_; without him if he isn't." with such persuasive words captain roy at length overcame the holbein objections. with the girl herself he had less difficulty, his chief anxiety being, as he himself said, "to give her reasons for wishin' her to go without tellin' lies." "wouldn't you like a trip in my brig to anjer, my dear girl?" he had almost said daughter, but thought it best not to be too precipitate. "oh! i should like it _so_ much," said kathleen, clasping her little hands and raising her large eyes to the captain's face. "_dear_ child!" said the captain to himself. then aloud, "well, i'll take you." "but i--i fear that father and mother would not like me to go--perhaps." "no fear o' them, my girl," returned the captain, putting his huge rough hand on her pretty little head as if in an act of solemn appropriation, for, unlike too many fathers, this exemplary man considered only the sweetness, goodness, and personal worth of the girl, caring not a straw for other matters, and being strongly of opinion that a man should marry young if he possess the spirit of a man or the means to support a wife. as he was particularly fond of kathleen, and felt quite sure that his son had deeper reasons than he chose to express for his course of action, he entertained a strong hope, not to say conviction, that she would also become fond of nigel, and that all things would thus work together for a smooth course to this case of true love. it will be seen from all this that captain david roy was a sanguine man. whether his hopes were well grounded or not remains to be seen. meanwhile, having, as mr. moor said, shipped the cargo, the _sunshine_ set sail once more for sunda straits in a measure of outward gloom that formed a powerful contrast to the sunny hopes within her commander's bosom, for krakatoa was at that time progressing rapidly towards the consummation of its designs, as partly described in the last chapter. short though that voyage was, it embraced a period of action so thrilling that ever afterwards it seemed a large slice of life's little day to those who went through it. we have said that the culminating incidents of the drama began on the night of the th. before that time, however, the cloud-pall was fast spreading over land and sea, and the rain of pumice and ashes had begun to descend. the wind being contrary, it was several days before the brig reached the immediate neighbourhood of krakatoa, and by that time the volcano had begun to enter upon the stage which is styled by vulcanologists "paroxysmal," the explosions being extremely violent as well as frequent. "it is very awful," said kathleen in a low voice, as she clasped the captain's arm and leaned her slight figure on it. "i have often heard the thunder of distant volcanoes, but never been so near as to hear such terrible sounds." "don't be frightened, my ducky," said the captain in a soothing tone, for he felt from the appearance of things that there was indeed some ground for alarm. "volcanoes always look worse when you're near them." "i not frightened," she replied. "only i got strange, solemn feelings. besides, no danger can come till god allows." "that's right, lass. mrs. holbein has been a true mother if she taught you that." "no, she did not taught me that. my father taught me that." "what! old holbein?" "no--my father, who is dead," she said in a low voice. "oh! i see. my poor child, i should have understood you. forgive me." as the captain spoke, a tremendous outburst on krakatoa turned their minds to other subjects. they were by that time drawing near to the island, and the thunders of the eruption seemed to shake not only the heavens but even the great ocean itself. though the hour was not much past noon the darkness soon became so dense that it was difficult to perceive objects a few yards distant, and, as pieces of stone the size of walnuts, or even larger, began to fall on the deck, the captain sent kathleen below. "there's no saying where or when a big stone may fall, my girl," he said, "and it's not the habit of englishmen to let women come under fire, so you'll be safer below. besides, you'll be able to see something of what's goin' on out o' the cabin windows." with the obedience that was natural to her, kathleen went down at once, and the captain made everything as snug as possible, battening down the hatches and shortening sail so as to be ready for whatever might befall. "i don't like the look o' things, mr. moor," said the captain when the second mate came on deck to take his watch. "no more do i, sir," answered mr. moor calmly. the aspect of things was indeed very changeable. sometimes, as we have said, all nature seemed to be steeped in thick darkness, at other times the fires of the volcano blazed upward, spreading a red glare on the rolling clouds and over the heaving sea. lightning also played its part as well as thunder, but the latter was scarcely distinguishable from the volcano's roar. three days before sunday the th of august, captain roy--as well as the crews of several other vessels that were in sunda straits at the time--had observed a marked though gradual increase in the violence of the eruption. on that day, as we read in the _report of the krakatoa committee of the royal society_, about p.m. the detonations caused by the explosive action attained such violence as to be heard at batavia, about english miles away. at p.m. of the same day, captain thompson of the _medea_, when about miles e.n.e. of the island, saw a black mass rising like clouds of smoke to a height which has been estimated at no less than miles! and the detonations were at that time taking place at intervals of ten minutes. but, terrible though these explosions must have been, they were but as the whisperings of the volcano. an hour later they had increased so much as to be heard at bandong and other places miles away, and at p.m. they had become so tremendous as to be heard over the whole island of java, the eastern portion of which is about miles from krakatoa. and the sounds thus heard were not merely like distant thunder. in batavia--although, as we have said, miles off--they were so violent during the whole of that terrible sunday night as to prevent the people from sleeping. they were compared to the "discharge of artillery close at hand," and caused a rattling of doors, windows, pictures, and chandeliers. captain watson of the _charles bal_, who chanced to be only miles south of the volcano, also compared the sounds to discharges of artillery, but this only shows the feebleness of ordinary language in attempting to describe such extraordinary sounds, for if they were comparable to close artillery at batavia, the same comparison is inappropriate at only ten miles' distance. he also mentions the crackling noise, probably due to the impact of fragments in the atmosphere, which were noticed by the hermit and nigel while standing stunned and almost stupefied on the giddy ledge of rakata that same sunday. about five in the evening of that day, the brig _sunshine_ drew still nearer to the island, but the commotion at the time became so intense, and the intermittent darkness so profound, that captain roy was afraid to continue the voyage and shortened sail. not only was there a heavy rolling sea, but the water was seething, as if about to boil. "heave the lead, mr. moor," said the captain, who stood beside the wheel. "yes, sir," answered the imperturbable second mate, who thereupon gave the necessary order, and when the depth was ascertained, the report was "ten fathoms, sand, with a 'ot bottom." "a hot bottom! what do you mean?" "the lead's 'ot, sir," replied the sailor. this was true, as the captain found when he applied his hand to it. "i do believe the world's going on fire," he muttered; "but it's a comfort to know that it can't very well blaze up as long as the sea lasts!" just then a rain of pumice in large pieces, and quite warm, began to fall upon the deck. as most people know, pumice is extremely light, so that no absolute injury was done to any one, though such rain was excessively trying. soon, however, a change took place. the dense vapours and dust-clouds which had rendered it so excessively dark were entirely lighted up from time to time by fierce flashes of lightning which rent as well as painted them in all directions. at one time this great mass of clouds presented the appearance of an immense pine-tree with the stem and branches formed of volcanic lightning. captain roy, fearing that these tremendous sights and sounds would terrify the poor girl in the cabin, was about to look in and reassure her, when the words "oh! how splendid!" came through the slightly opened door. he peeped in and saw kathleen on her knees on the stern locker, with her hands clasped, gazing out of one of the stern windows. "hm! she's all right," he muttered, softly reclosing the door and returning on deck. "if she thinks it's splendid, she don't need no comfortin'! it's quite clear that she don't know what danger means--and why should she? humph! there go some more splendid sights for her," he added, as what appeared to be chains of fire ascended from the volcano to the sky. just then a soft rain began to fall. it was warm, and, on examination at the binnacle lamp, turned out to be mud. slight at first, it soon poured down in such quantities that in ten minutes it lay six inches thick on the deck, and the crew had to set to work with shovels to heave it overboard. at this time there was seen a continual roll of balls of white fire down the sides of the peak of rakata, caused, doubtless, by the ejection of white-hot fragments of lava. then showers of masses like iron cinders fell on the brig, and from that time onward till four o'clock of the morning of the th, explosions of indescribable grandeur continually took place, as if the mountains were in a continuous roar of terrestrial agony--the sky being at one moment of inky blackness, the next in a blaze of light, while hot, choking, and sulphurous smells almost stifled the voyagers. at this point the captain again became anxious about kathleen and went below. he found her in the same place and attitude--still fascinated! "my child," he said, taking her hand, "you must lie down and rest." "oh! no. do let me stay up," she begged, entreatingly. "but you must be tired--sleepy." "sleepy! who could sleep with such wonders going on around? pray _don't_ tell me to go to bed!" it was evident that poor kathy had the duty of obedience to authority still strong upon her. perhaps the memory of the holbein nursery had not yet been wiped out. "well, well," said the captain with a pathetic smile, "you are as safe--comfortable, i mean--here as in your berth or anywhere else." as there was a lull in the violence of the eruption just then, the captain left kathleen in the cabin and went on deck. it was not known at that time what caused this lull, but as it preceded the first of the four grand explosions which effectually eviscerated--emptied--the ancient crater of krakatoa, we will give, briefly, the explanation of it as conjectured by the men of science. lying as it did so close to the sea-level, the krakatoa volcano, having blown away all its cones, and vents, and safety-valves--from perboewatan southward, except the peak of rakata--let the sea rush in upon its infernal fires. this result, ordinary people think, produced a gush of steam which caused the grand terminal explosions. vulcanologists think otherwise, and with reason--which is more than can be said of ordinary people, who little know the power of the forces at work below the crust of our earth! the steam thus produced, although on so stupendous a scale, was free to expand and therefore went upwards, no doubt in a sufficiently effective gust and cloud. but nothing worthy of being named a blow-up was there. the effect of the in-rushing water was to cool the upper surface of the boiling lava and convert it into a thick hard solid crust at the mouth of the great vent. in this condition the volcano resembled a boiler with all points of egress closed and the safety-valve shut down! oceans of molten lava creating expansive gases below; no outlet possible underneath, and the neck of the bottle corked with tons of solid rock! one of two things must happen in such circumstances: the cork must go or the bottle must burst! both events happened on that terrible night. all night long the corks were going, and at last--krakatoa burst! in the hurly-burly of confusion, smoke, and noise, no eye could note the precise moment when the island was shattered, but there were on the morning of the th four supreme explosions, which rang loud and high above the horrible average din. these occurred--according to the careful investigations made, at the instance of the dutch indian government, by the eminent geologist, mr. r.d.m. verbeek--at the hours of . , . , . , and . in the morning. of these the third, about , was by far the worst for violence and for the wide-spread devastation which it produced. at each of these explosions a tremendous sea-wave was created by the volcano, which swept like a watery ring from krakatoa as a centre to the surrounding shores. it was at the second of these explosions--that of . --that the fall of the mighty cliff took place which was seen by the hermit and his friends as they fled from the island, and, on the crest of the resulting wave, were carried along they scarce knew whither. as the previous wave--that of . --had given the brig a tremendous heave upwards, the captain, on hearing the second, ran down below for a moment to tell kathleen there would soon be another wave, but that she need fear no danger. "the brig is deep and has a good hold o' the water," he said, "so the wave is sure to slip under her without damage. i wish i could hope it would do as little damage when it reaches the shore." as he spoke a strange and violent crash was heard overhead, quite different from volcanic explosions, like the falling of some heavy body on the deck. "one o' the yards down!" muttered the captain as he ran to the cabin door. "hallo, what's that, mr. moor?" "canoe just come aboard, sir." "a canoe?" "yes, sir. crew, three men and a monkey. all insensible--hallo!" the "hallo!" with which the second mate finished his remark was so unlike his wonted tone, and so full of genuine surprise, that the captain ran forward with unusual haste, and found a canoe smashed to pieces against the foremast, and the mate held a lantern close to the face of one of the men while the crew were examining the others. a single glance told the captain that the mud-bespattered figure that lay before him as if dead was none other than his own son! the great wave had caught the frail craft on its crest, and, sweeping it along with lightning speed for a short distance, had hurled it on the deck of the _sunshine_ with such violence as to completely stun the whole crew. even spinkie lay in a melancholy little heap in the lee scuppers. you think this a far-fetched coincidence, good reader! well, all we can say is that we could tell you of another--a double--coincidence, which was far more extraordinary than this one, but as it has nothing to do with our tale we refrain from inflicting it on you. chapter xxvi. a climax. three of those who had tumbled thus unceremoniously on the deck of the _sunshine_ were soon sufficiently recovered to sit up and look around in dazed astonishment--namely nigel, moses, and the monkey--but the hermit still lay prone where he had been cast, with a pretty severe wound on his head, from which blood was flowing freely. "nigel, my boy!" "father!" exclaimed the youth. "where am i? what has happened?" "don't excite yourself, lad," said the mariner, stooping and whispering into his son's ear. "we've got _her_ aboard!" no treatment could have been more effectual in bringing nigel to his senses than this whisper. "is--is--van der kemp safe?" he asked anxiously. "all right--only stunned, i think. that's him they're just goin' to carry below. put 'im in my bunk, mr. moor." "ay ay, sir." nigel sprang up. "stay, father," he said in a low voice. "_she_ must not see him for the first time like this." "all right, boy. i understand. you leave that to me. my bunk has bin shifted for'id--more amidships--an' kathy's well aft. they shan't be let run foul of each other. you go an' rest on the main hatch till we get him down. why, here's a nigger! where did you pick him--oh! i remember. you're the man we met, i suppose, wi' the hermit on krakatoa that day o' the excursion from batavia." "yes, das me. but we'll meet on krakatoa no more, for dat place am blown to bits." "i'm pretty well convinced o' that by this time, my man. not hurt much, i hope?" "no, sar--not more 'n i can stan'. but i's 'fraid dat poor spinkie's a'most used up--hallo! what you gwine to do with massa?" demanded the negro, whose wandering faculties had only in part returned. "he's gone below. all right. now, you go and lie down beside my son on the hatch. i'll see to van der kemp." but captain david roy's intentions, like those of many men of greater note, were frustrated by the hermit himself, who recovered consciousness just as the four men who carried him reached the foot of the companion-ladder close to the cabin door. owing to the deeper than midnight darkness that prevailed a lamp was burning in the cabin--dimly, as if, infected by the universal chaos, it were unwilling to enlighten the surrounding gloom. on recovering consciousness van der kemp was, not unnaturally, under the impression that he had fallen into the hands of foes. with one effectual convulsion of his powerful limbs he scattered his bearers right and left, and turning--like all honest men--to the light, he sprang into the cabin, wrenched a chair from its fastenings, and, facing round, stood at bay. kathleen, seeing this blood-stained giant in such violent action, naturally fled to her cabin and shut the door. as no worse enemy than captain roy presented himself at the cabin door, unarmed, and with an anxious look on his rugged face, the hermit set down the chair, and feeling giddy sank down on it with a groan. "i fear you are badly hurt, sir. let me tie a handkerchief round your wounded head," said the captain soothingly. "thanks, thanks. your voice is not unfamiliar to me," returned the hermit with a sigh, as he submitted to the operation. "i thought i had fallen somehow into the hands of pirates. surely an accident must have happened. how did i get here? where are my comrades--nigel and the negro?" "my son nigel is all right, sir, and so is your man moses. make your mind easy--an' pray don't speak while i'm working at you. i'll explain it all in good time. stay, i'll be with you in a moment." the captain--fearing that kathleen might come out from curiosity to see what was going on, and remembering his son's injunction--went to the girl's berth with the intention of ordering her to keep close until he should give her leave to come out. opening the door softly and looking in, he was startled, almost horrified, to see kathleen standing motionless like a statue, with both hands pressed tightly over her heart. the colour had fled from her beautiful face; her long hair was flung back; her large lustrous eyes were wide open and her lips slightly parted, as if her whole being had been concentrated in eager expectancy. "what's wrong, my girl?" asked the captain anxiously. "you've no cause for fear. i just looked in to--." "that voice!" exclaimed kathleen, with something of awe in her tones--"oh! i've heard it _so_ often in my dreams." "hush! sh! my girl," said the captain in a low tone, looking anxiously round at the wounded man. but his precautions were unavailing,--van der kemp had also heard a voice which he thought had long been silent in death. the girl's expression was almost repeated in his face. before the well-meaning mariner could decide what to do, kathleen brushed lightly past him, and stood in the cabin gazing as if spell-bound at the hermit. "winnie!" he whispered, as if scarcely daring to utter the name. "father!" she extended both hands towards him as she spoke. then, with a piercing shriek, she staggered backward, and would have fallen had not the captain caught her and let her gently down. van der kemp vaulted the table, fell on his knees beside her, and, raising her light form, clasped her to his heart, just as nigel and moses, alarmed by the scream, sprang into the cabin. "come, come; away wi' you--you stoopid grampusses!" cried the captain, pushing the intruders out of the cabin, following them, and closing the door behind him. "this is no place for bunglers like you an' me. we might have known that natur' would have her way, an' didn't need no help from the like o' us. let's on deck. there's enough work there to look after that's better suited to us." truly there was enough--and more than enough--to claim the most anxious attention of all who were on board of the _sunshine_ that morning, for hot mud was still falling in showers on the deck, and the thunders of the great volcano were still shaking heaven, earth, and sea. to clear the decks and sails of mud occupied every one for some time so earnestly that they failed to notice at first that the hermit had come on deck, found a shovel, and was working away like the rest of them. the frequent and prolonged blazes of intense light that ever and anon banished the darkness showed that on his face there sat an expression of calm, settled, triumphant joy, which was strangely mingled with a look of quiet humility. "i thank god for this," said nigel, going forward when he observed him and grasping his hand. "you knew it?" exclaimed the hermit in surprise. "yes. i knew it--indeed, helped to bring you together, but did not dare to tell you till i was quite sure. i had hoped to have you meet in very different circumstances." "'it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps,'" returned the hermit reverently. "god bless you, nigel. if you have even aimed at bringing this about, i owe you _more_ than my life." "you must have lost a good deal of blood, van der kemp. are you much hurt?" asked nigel, as he observed the bandage round his friend's head. "somewhat. not much, i hope--but joy, as well as blood, gives strength, nigel." a report from a man who had just been ordered to take soundings induced the captain at this time to lay-to. "it seems to me," he said to nigel and the hermit who stood close beside him, "that we are getting too near shore. but in cases o' this kind the bottom o' the sea itself can't be depended on." "what part of the shore are we near, d' you think, father?" "stand by to let go the anchor!" roared the captain, instead of answering the question. "ay, ay, sir," replied the second mate, whose cool, sing-song, business-like tone at such a moment actually tended to inspire a measure of confidence in those around him. another moment, and the rattling chain caused a tremor through the vessel, which ceased when the anchor touched bottom, and they rode head to wind. coruscations of bluish light seemed to play about the masts, and balls of electric fire tipped the yards, throwing for a short time a ghastly sheen over the ship and crew, for the profound darkness had again settled down, owing, no doubt, to another choking of the krakatoa vent. before the light referred to went out, moses was struck violently on the chest by something soft, which caused him to stagger. it was spinkie! in the midst of the unusual horrors that surrounded him, while clinging to the unfamiliar mizzen shrouds on which in desperation the poor monkey had found a temporary refuge, the electric fire showed him the dark figure of his old familiar friend standing not far off. with a shriek of not quite hopeless despair, and an inconceivable bound, spinkie launched himself into space. his early training in the forest stood him in good stead at that crisis! as already said he hit the mark fairly, and clung to moses with a tenacity that was born of mingled love and desperation. finding that nothing short of cruelty would unfix his little friend, moses stuffed him inside the breast of his cotton shirt. in this haven of rest the monkey heaved a sigh of profound contentment, folded his hands on his bosom, and meekly went to sleep. two of the excessively violent paroxysms of the volcano, above referred to, had by that time taken place, but the third, and worst--that which occurred about a.m.--was yet in store for them, though they knew it not, and a lull in the roar, accompanied by thicker darkness than ever, was its precursor. there was not, however, any lull in the violence of the wind. "i don't like these lulls," said captain roy to the hermit, as they stood close to the binnacle, in the feeble light of its lamp. "what is that striking against our sides, mr. moor?" "looks like floating pumice, sir," answered the second mate, "and i think i see palm-trees amongst it." "ay, i thought so, we must be close to land," said the captain. "we can't be far from anjer, and i fear the big waves that have already passed us have done some damage. lower a lantern over the side,--no, fetch an empty tar-barrel and let's have a flare. that will enable us to see things better." while the barrel was being fastened to a spar so as to be thrust well out beyond the side of the brig, van der kemp descended the companion and opened the cabin door. "come up now, winnie, darling." "yes, father," was the reply, as the poor girl, who had been anxiously awaiting the summons, glided out and clasped her father's arm with both hands. "are things quieting down?" "they are, a little. it may be temporary, but--our father directs it all." "true, father. i'm _so_ glad of that!" "mind the step, we shall have more light on deck. there is a friend there who has just told me he met you on the cocos-keeling island, nigel roy;--you start, winnie?" "y--yes, father. i am _so_ surprised, for it is _his_ father who sails this ship! and i cannot imagine how he or you came on board." "well, i was going to say that i believe it is partly through nigel that you and i have been brought together, but there is mystery about it that i don't yet understand; much has to be explained, and this assuredly is not the time or place. here, nigel, is your old keeling friend." "ay--friend! humph!" said old roy softly to himself. "my _dear_--child!" said young roy, paternally, to the girl as he grasped her hand. "i cannot tell you how thankful i am that this has been brought about, and--and that _i_ have had some little hand in it." "there's more than pumice floating about in the sea, sir," said mr. moor, coming aft at the moment and speaking to the captain in a low tone. "you'd better send the young lady below--or get some one to take up her attention just now." "here, nigel. sit down under the lee of the companion, an' tell kathy how this all came about," said the captain, promptly, as if issuing nautical orders. "i want you here, van der kemp." so saying, the captain, followed by the hermit, went with the second mate to the place where the flaming tar-barrel was casting a lurid glare upon the troubled sea. chapter xxvii. "blown to bits." the sight that met their eyes was well calculated to shock and sadden men of much less tender feeling than van der kemp and captain roy. the water had assumed an appearance of inky blackness, and large masses of pumice were floating past, among which were numerous dead bodies of men, women, and children, intermingled with riven trees, fences, and other wreckage from the land, showing that the two great waves which had already passed under the vessel had caused terrible devastation on some parts of the shore. to add to the horror of the scene large sea-snakes were seen swimming wildly about, as if seeking to escape from the novel dangers that surrounded them. the sailors looked on in awe-stricken silence for some time. "p'raps some of 'em may be alive yet!" whispered one. "couldn't we lower a boat?" "impossible in such a sea," said the captain, who overheard the remark. "besides, no life could exist there." "captain roy," said van der kemp earnestly, "let me advise you to get your foresail ready to hoist at a moment's notice, and let them stand by to cut the cable." "why so? there seems no need at present for such strong measures." "you don't understand volcanoes as i do," returned the hermit. "this lull will only last until the imprisoned fires overcome the block in the crater, and the longer it lasts the worse will be the explosion. from my knowledge of the coast i feel sure that we are close to the town of anjer. if another wave like the last comes while we are here, it will not slip under your brig like the last one. it will tear her from her anchor and hurl us all to destruction. you have but one chance; that is, to cut the cable and run in on the top of it--a poor chance at the best, but if god wills, we shall escape." "if we are indeed as near shore as you think," said the captain, "i know what you say must be true, for in shoal water such a wave will surely carry all before it. but are you certain there will be another explosion?" "no man can be sure of that. if the last explosion emptied the crater there will be no more. if it did not, another explosion is certain. all i advise is that you should be ready for whatever is coming, and ready to take your only chance." "right you are, sir. send men to be ready to cut the cable, mr. moor. and stand by the topsail halyards." "ay, ay, sir." during the anxious minutes that followed, the hermit rejoined winnie and nigel on the quarter-deck, and conversed with the latter in a low voice, while he drew the former to his side with his strong arm. captain roy himself grasped the wheel and the men stood at their various stations ready for action. "let no man act without orders, whatever happens," said the captain in a deep powerful voice which was heard over the whole ship, for the lull that we have mentioned extended in some degree to the gale as well as to the volcano. every one felt that some catastrophe was pending. "winnie, darling," said the hermit tenderly, as he bent down to see the sweet face that had been restored to him. "i greatly fear that there is sure to be another explosion, and it may be his will that we shall perish, but comfort yourself with the certainty that no hair of your dear head can fall without his permission--and in any event he will not fail us." "i know it, father. i have no fear--at least, only a little!" "nigel," said the hermit, "stick close to us if you can. it may be that, if anything should befall me, your strong arm may succour winnie; mine has lost somewhat of its vigour," he whispered. "trust me--nothing but death shall sunder us," said the anxious youth in a burst of enthusiasm. it seemed as if death were indeed to be the immediate portion of all on board the _sunshine_, for a few minutes later there came a crash, followed by a spout of smoke, fire, steam, and molten lava, compared to which all that had gone before seemed insignificant! the crash was indescribable! as we have said elsewhere, the sound of it was heard many hundreds of miles from the seat of the volcano, and its effects were seen and felt right round the world. the numerous vents which had previously been noticed on krakatoa must at that moment have been blown into one, and the original crater of the old volcano--said to have been about six miles in diameter--must have resumed its destructive work. all the eye-witnesses who were near the spot at the time, and sufficiently calm to take note of the terrific events of that morning, are agreed as to the splendour of the electrical phenomena displayed during this paroxysmal outburst. one who, at the time, was forty miles distant speaks of the great vapour-cloud looking "like an immense wall or blood-red curtain with edges of all shades of yellow, and bursts of forked lightning at times rushing like large serpents through the air." another says that "krakatoa appeared to be alight with flickering flames rising behind a dense black cloud." a third recorded that "the lightning struck the mainmast conductor five or six times," and that "the mud-rain which covered the decks was phosphorescent, while the rigging presented the appearance of st. elmo's fire." it may be remarked here, in passing, that giant steam-jets rushing through the orifices of the earth's crust constitute an enormous hydro-electric engine; and the friction of ejected materials striking against each other in ascending and descending also generates electricity, which accounts to some extent for the electrical condition of the atmosphere. in these final and stupendous outbursts the volcano was expending its remaining force in breaking up and ejecting the solid lava which constituted its framework, and not in merely vomiting forth the lava-froth, or pumice, which had characterised the earlier stages of the eruption. in point of fact--as was afterwards clearly ascertained by careful soundings and estimates, taking the average height of the missing portion at feet above water, and the depth at feet below it--two-thirds of the island were blown entirely off the face of the earth. the mass had covered an area of nearly six miles, and is estimated as being equal to - / cubic miles of solid matter which, as moses expressed it, was blown to bits! if this had been all, it would have been enough to claim the attention and excite the wonder of the intelligent world--but this was not nearly all, as we shall see, for saddest of all the incidents connected with the eruption is the fact that upwards of thirty-six thousand human beings lost their lives. the manner in which that terrible loss occurred shall be shown by the future adventures of the _sunshine_. chapter xxviii. the fate of the "sunshine." stunned at first, for a few minutes, by the extreme violence of the explosion, no one on board the _sunshine_ spoke, though each man stood at his post ready to act. "strange," said the captain at last. "there seems to be no big wave this time." "that only shows that we are not as near the island as we thought. but it won't be long of----see! there it comes," said the hermit. "now, winnie, cling to my arm and put your trust in god." nigel, who had secured a life-buoy, moved close to the girl's side, and looking anxiously out ahead saw a faint line of foam in the thick darkness which had succeeded the explosion. already the distant roar of the billow was heard, proving that it had begun to break. "the wind comes with it," said van der kemp. "stand by!" cried the captain, gazing intently over the side. next moment came the sharp order to hoist the foretopsail and jib, soon followed by "cut the cable!" there was breeze enough to swing the vessel quickly round. in a few seconds her stern was presented to the coming wave, and her bow cleft the water as she rushed upon what every one now knew was her doom. to escape the great wave was no part of the captain's plan. to have reached the shore before the wave would have been fatal to all. their only hope lay in the possibility of riding in on the top of it, and the great danger was that they should be unable to rise to it stern first when it came up, or that they should turn broadside on and be rolled over. they had not long to wait. the size of the wave, before it came near enough to be seen, was indicated by its solemn, deep-toned, ever-increasing roar. the captain stood at the wheel himself, guiding the brig and glancing back from time to time uneasily. suddenly the volcano gave vent to its fourth and final explosion. it was not so violent as its predecessors had been, though more so than any that had occurred on the day before, and the light of it showed them the full terrors of their situation, for it revealed the mountains of java--apparently quite close in front, though in reality at a considerable distance--with a line of breakers beating white on the shore. but astern of them was the most appalling sight, for there, rushing on with awful speed and a sort of hissing roar, came the monstrous wave, emerging, as it were, out of thick darkness, like a mighty wall of water with a foaming white crest, not much less--according to an average of the most reliable estimates--than feet high. well might the seamen blanch, for never before in all their varied experience had they seen the like of that. on it came with the unwavering force of fate. to the eye of captain roy it appeared that up its huge towering side no vessel made by mortal man could climb. but the captain had too often stared death in the face to be unmanned by the prospect now. steadily he steered the vessel straight on, and in a quiet voice said-- "lay hold of something firm--every man!" the warning was well timed. in the amazement, if not fear, caused by the unwonted sight, some had neglected the needful precaution. as the billow came on, the bubbling, leaping, and seething of its crest was apparent both to eye and ear. then the roar became tremendous. "darling winnie," said nigel at that moment. "i will die for you or with you!" the poor girl heard, but no sign of appreciation moved her pale face as she gazed up at the approaching chaos of waters. next moment the brig seemed to stand on its bows. van der kemp had placed his daughter against the mast, and, throwing his long arms round both, held on. nigel, close to them, had grasped a handful of ropes, and every one else was holding on for life. another moment and the brig rose as if it were being tossed up to the heavens. immediately thereafter it resumed its natural position in a perfect wilderness of foam. they were on the summit of the great wave, which was so large that its crest seemed like a broad, rounded mass of tumbling snow with blackness before and behind, while the roar of the tumult was deafening. the brig rushed onward at a speed which she had never before equalled even in the fiercest gale--tossed hither and thither by the leaping foam, yet always kept going straight onward by the expert steering of her captain. "come aft--all of you!" he shouted, when it was evident that the vessel was being borne surely forward on the wave's crest. "the masts will go for certain when we strike." the danger of being entangled in the falling spars and cordage was so obvious that every one except the hermit and nigel obeyed. "here, nigel," gasped the former. "i--i've--lost blood--faint!----" our hero at once saw that van der kemp, fainting from previous loss of blood, coupled with exertion, was unable to do anything but hold on. indeed, he failed even in that, and would have fallen to the deck had nigel not caught him by the arm. "can you run aft, winnie?" said nigel anxiously. "yes!" said the girl, at once understanding the situation and darting to the wheel, of which and of captain roy she laid firm hold, while nigel lifted the hermit in his arms and staggered to the same spot. winnie knelt beside him immediately, and, forgetting for the moment all the horrors around her, busied herself in replacing the bandage which had been loosened from his head. "oh! mr. roy, save him!--save him!" cried the poor child, appealing in an agony to nigel, for she felt instinctively that when the crash came her father would be utterly helpless even to save himself. nigel had barely time to answer when a wild shout from the crew caused him to start up and look round. a flare from the volcano had cast a red light over the bewildering scene, and revealed the fact that the brig was no longer above the ocean's bed, but was passing in its wild career right through, or rather _over_, the demolished town of anjer. a few of the houses that had been left standing by the previous waves were being swept--hurled--away by this one, but the mass of rolling, rushing, spouting water was so deep, that the vessel had as yet struck nothing save the tops of some palm-trees which bent their heads like straws before the flood. even in the midst of the amazement, alarm, and anxiety caused by the situation, nigel could not help wondering that in this final and complete destruction of the town no sign of struggling human beings should be visible. he forgot at the moment, what was terribly proved afterwards, that the first waves had swallowed up men, women, and children by hundreds, and that the few who survived had fled to the hills, leaving nothing for the larger wave to do but complete the work of devastation on inanimate objects. ere the situation had been well realised the volcanic fires went down again, and left the world, for over a hundred surrounding miles, in opaque darkness. only the humble flicker of the binnacle light, like a trusty sentinel on duty, continued to shed its feeble rays on a few feet of the deck, and showed that the compass at least was still faithful to the pole! then another volcanic outburst revealed the fact that the wave which carried them was thundering on in the direction of a considerable cliff or precipice--not indeed quite straight towards it, but sufficiently so to render escape doubtful. at the same time a swarm of terror-stricken people were seen flying towards this cliff and clambering up its steep sides. they were probably some of the more courageous of the inhabitants who had summoned courage to return to their homes after the passage of the second wave. their shrieks and cries could be heard above even the roaring of the water and the detonations of the volcano. "god spare us!" exclaimed poor winnie, whose trembling form was now partially supported by nigel. as she spoke darkness again obscured everything, and they could do naught but listen to the terrible sounds--and pray. on--on went the _sunshine_, in the midst of wreck and ruin, on this strange voyage over land and water, until a check was felt. it was not a crash as had been anticipated, and as might have naturally been expected, neither was it an abrupt stoppage. there was first a hissing, scraping sound against the vessel's sides, then a steady checking--we might almost say a hindrance to progress--not violent, yet so very decided that the rigging could not bear the strain. one and another of the back-stays parted, the foretopsail burst with a cannon-like report, after which a terrible rending sound, followed by an indescribable crash, told that both masts had gone by the board. then all was comparatively still--comparatively we say, for water still hissed and leaped beneath them like a rushing river, though it no longer roared, and the wind blew in unfamiliar strains and laden with unwonted odours. at that moment another outburst of krakatoa revealed the fact that the great wave had borne the brig inland for upwards of a mile, and left her imbedded in a thick grove of cocoa-nut palms! chapter xxix. tells chiefly of the wonderful effects of this eruption on the would at large. the great explosions of that morning had done more damage and had achieved results more astounding than lies in the power of language adequately to describe, or of history to parallel. let us take a glance at this subject in passing. an inhabitant of anjer--owner of a hotel, a ship-chandler's store, two houses, and a dozen boats--went down to the beach about six on the morning of that fateful th of august. he had naturally been impressed by the night of the th, though, accustomed as he was to volcanic eruptions, he felt no apprehensions as to the safety of the town. he went to look to the moorings of his boats, leaving his family of seven behind him. while engaged in this work he observed a wave of immense size approaching. he leaped into one of his boats, which was caught up by the wave and swept inland, carrying its owner there in safety. but this was the wave that sealed the doom of the town and most of its inhabitants, including the hotel-keeper's family and all that he possessed. this is one only out of thousands of cases of bereavement and destruction. a lighthouse-keeper was seated in his solitary watch-tower, speculating, doubtless, on the probable continuance of such a violent outbreak, while his family and mates--accustomed to sleep in the midst of elemental war--were resting peacefully in the rooms below, when one of the mighty waves suddenly appeared, thundered past, and swept the lighthouse with all its inhabitants away. this shows but one of the many disasters to lighthouses in sunda straits. a dutch man-of-war--the _berouw_--was lying at anchor in lampong bay, fifty miles from krakatoa. the great wave came, tore it from its anchorage, and carried it--like the vessel of our friend david roy--nearly two miles inland! masses of coral of immense size and weight were carried four miles inland by the same wave. the river at anjer was choked up; the conduit which used to carry water into the place was destroyed, and the town itself was laid in ruins. but these are only a few of the incidents of the great catastrophe. who can conceive, much less tell of, those terrible details of sudden death and disaster to thousands of human beings, resulting from an eruption which destroyed towns like telok betong, anjer, tyringin, etc., besides numerous villages and hamlets on the shores of java and sumatra, and caused the destruction of more than , souls? but it is to results of a very different kind, and on a much more extended scale, that we must turn if we would properly estimate the magnitude, the wide-spreading and far-reaching influences, and the extraordinary character, of the krakatoa outburst of . in the first place, it is a fact, testified to by some of the best-known men of science, that the shock of the explosion extended _appreciably_ right round the world, and seventeen miles (some say even higher!) up into the heavens. mr. verbeek, in his treatise on this subject, estimates that a cubic mile of krakatoa was propelled in the form of the finest dust into the higher regions of the atmosphere--probably about thirty miles! the dust thus sent into the sky was of "ultra-microscopic fineness," and it travelled round and round the world in a westerly direction, producing those extraordinary sunsets and gorgeous effects and afterglows which became visible in the british isles in the month of november following the eruption; and the mighty waves which caused such destruction in the vicinity of sunda straits travelled--not once, but at least--six times round the globe, as was proved by trustworthy and independent observations of tide-gauges and barometers made and recorded at the same time in nearly all lands--including our own. other volcanoes, it is said by those who have a right to speak in regard to such matters, have ejected more "stuff," but not one has equalled krakatoa in the intensity of its explosions, the appalling results of the sea-waves, the wonderful effects in the sky, and the almost miraculous nature of the sounds. seated on a log under a palm-tree in batavia, on that momentous morning of the th, was a sailor who had been left behind sick by captain roy when he went on his rather quixotic trip to the keeling islands. he was a somewhat delicate son of the sea. want of self-restraint was his complaint--leading to a surfeit of fruit and other things, which terminated in a severe fit of indigestion and indisposition to life in general. he was smoking--that being a sovereign and infallible cure for indigestion and all other ills that flesh is heir to, as every one knows! "i say, old man," he inquired, with that cheerful tone and air which usually accompanies incapacity for food. "do it always rain ashes here?" the old man whom he addressed was a veteran malay seaman. "no," replied the malay, "sometimes it rain mud--hot mud." "do it? oh! well--anything for variety, i s'pose," returned the sailor, with a growl which had reference to internal disarrangements. "is it often as dark as this in the daytime, an' is the sun usually green?" he asked carelessly, more for the sake of distracting the mind from other matters than for the desire of knowledge. "sometime it's more darker," replied the old man. "i've seed it so dark that you couldn't see how awful dark it was." as he spoke, a sound that has been described by ear-witnesses as "deafening" smote upon their tympanums, the log on which they sat quivered, the earth seemed to tremble, and several dishes in a neighbouring hut were thrown down and broken. "i say, old man, suthin' busted there," remarked the sailor, taking the pipe from his mouth and quietly ramming its contents down with the end of his blunt forefinger. the malay looked grave. "the gasometer?" suggested the sailor. "no, that _never_ busts." "a noo mountain come into action, p'raps, an' blow'd its top off?" "shouldn't wonder if that's it--close at hand too. we's used to that here. but them's bigger cracks than or'nar'." the old malay was right as to the cause, but wrong as to distance. instead of being a volcano "close at hand," it was krakatoa eviscerating itself a hundred miles off, and the sound of its last grand effort "extended over degrees = about miles." on that day all the gas lights were extinguished in batavia, and the pictures rattled on the walls as though from the action of an earthquake. but there was no earthquake. it was the air-wave from krakatoa, and the noise produced by the air-waves that followed was described as "deafening." the effect of the sounds of the explosions on the straits settlements generally was not only striking, but to some extent amusing. at carimon, in java-- miles distant from krakatoa--it was supposed that a vessel in distress was firing guns, and several native boats were sent off to render assistance, but no distressed vessel was to be found! at acheen, in sumatra-- miles distant--they supposed that a fort was being attacked and the troops were turned out under arms. at singapore-- miles off--they fancied that the detonations came from a vessel in distress and two steamers were despatched to search for it. and here the effect on the telephone, extending to ishore, was remarkable. on raising the tubes a perfect roar as of a waterfall was heard. by shouting at the top of his voice, the clerk at one end could make the clerk at the other end hear, but he could not render a word intelligible. at perak-- miles off--the sounds were thought to be distant salvos of artillery, and commander hon. f. vereker, r.n., of h.m.s. _magpie_, when miles distant (in lat. ° ' n. long. ° ' e.), states that the detonations of krakatoa were distinctly heard by those on board his ship, and by the inhabitants of the coast as far as banguey island, on august th. he adds that they resembled distant heavy cannonading. in a letter from st. lucia bay-- miles distant--it was stated that the eruption was plainly heard all over borneo. a government steamer was sent out from the island of timor-- miles off--to ascertain the cause of the disturbance! in south australia also, at places miles away, explosions were heard on the th and th which "awakened" people, and were thought worthy of being recorded and reported. from tavoy, in burmah-- miles away--the report came--"all day on august th unusual sounds were heard, resembling the boom of guns. thinking there might be a wreck or a ship in distress, the tavoy superintendent sent out the police launch, but they 'could see nothing.'" and so on, far and near, similar records were made, the most distant spot where the sounds were reported to have been heard being rodriguez, in the pacific, nearly miles distant! one peculiar feature of the records is that some ships in the immediate neighbourhood of krakatoa did not experience the shock in proportionate severity. probably this was owing to their being so near that a great part of the concussion and sound flew over them--somewhat in the same way that the pieces of a bomb-shell fly over men who, being too near to escape by running, escape by flinging themselves flat on the ground. each air-wave which conveyed these sounds, commencing at krakatoa as a centre, spread out in an ever-increasing circle till it reached a distance of ° from its origin and encircled the earth at its widest part, after which it continued to advance in a contracting form until it reached the antipodes of the volcano; whence it was reflected or reproduced and travelled back again to krakatoa. here it was turned right-about-face and again despatched on its long journey. in this way it oscillated backward and forward not fewer than six times before traces of it were lost. we say "traces," because these remarkable facts were ascertained, tracked, and corroborated by independent barometric observation in all parts of the earth. for instance, the passage of the great air-wave from krakatoa to its antipodes, and from its antipodes back to krakatoa, was registered six times by the automatic barometer at greenwich. the instrument at kew observatory confirmed the records of greenwich, and so did the barometers of other places in the kingdom. everywhere in europe also this fact was corroborated, and in some places even a seventh oscillation was recorded. the greenwich record shows that the air-waves took about thirty-six hours to travel from pole to pole, thus proving that they travelled at about the rate of ordinary sound-waves, which, roughly speaking, travel at the rate of between six and seven hundred miles an hour. the height of the sea-waves that devastated the neighbouring shores, being variously estimated at from to feet, is sufficiently accounted for by the intervention of islands and headlands, etc., which, of course, tended to diminish the force, height, and volume of waves in varying degrees. these, like the air-waves, were also registered--by self-acting tide-gauges and by personal observation--all over the world, and the observations _coincided as to date with the great eruptions of the th and th of august_. the influence of the sea-waves was observed and noted in the java sea--which is shallow and where there are innumerable obstructions--as far as miles, but to the west they swept over the deep waters of the indian ocean on to cape horn, and even, it is said, to the english channel. the unusual disturbance of ocean in various places was sufficiently striking. at galle, in ceylon, where the usual rise and fall of the tide is feet, the master-attendant reports that on the afternoon of the th four remarkable waves were noticed in the port. the last of these was preceded by an unusual recession of the sea to such an extent that small boats at their anchorage were left aground--a thing that had never been seen before. the period of recession was only one-and-a-half minutes; then the water paused, as it were, for a brief space, and, beginning to rise, reached the level of the highest high-water mark in less than two minutes, thus marking a difference of feet inches instead of the ordinary feet. at one place there was an ebb and flood tide, of unusual extent, within half-an-hour. at another, a belt of land, including a burying-ground, was washed away, so that according to the observer "it appeared as if the dead had sought shelter with the living in a neighbouring cocoa-nut garden!" elsewhere the tides were seen to advance and recede ten or twelve times--in one case even twenty times--on the th. at trincomalee the sea receded three times and returned with singular force, at one period leaving part of the shore suddenly bare, with fish struggling in the mud. the utilitarian tendency of mankind was at once made manifest by some fishermen who, seizing the opportunity, dashed into the struggling mass and began to reap the accidental harvest, when--alas for the poor fishermen!--the sea rushed in again and drove them all away. in the mauritius, however, the fishers were more fortunate, for when their beach was exposed in a similar manner, they succeeded in capturing a good many fish before the water returned. even sharks were disturbed in their sinister and slimy habits of life by this outburst of krakatoa--and no wonder, when it is recorded that in some places "the sea looked like water boiling heavily in a pot," and that "the boats which were afloat were swinging in all directions." at one place several of these monsters were flung out of their native home into pools, where they were left struggling till their enemy man terminated their career. everywhere those great waves produced phenomena which were so striking as to attract the attention of all classes of people, to ensure record in most parts of the world, and to call for the earnest investigation of the scientific men of many lands--and the conclusion to which such men have almost universally come is, that the strange vagaries of the sea all over the earth, the mysterious sounds heard in so many widely distant places, and the wonderful effects in the skies of every quarter of the globe, were all due to the eruption of the krakatoa volcano in . with reference to these last--the sky-effects-a few words may not be out of place here. the superfine "ultra-microscopic" dust, which was blown by the volcano in quantities so enormous to such unusual heights, was, after dropping its heavier particles back to earth, caught by the breezes which always blow in the higher regions from east to west, and carried by them for many months round and round the world. the dust was thickly and not widely spread at first, but as time went on it gradually extended itself on either side, becoming visible to more and more of earth's inhabitants, and at the same time becoming necessarily less dense. through this medium the sun's rays had to penetrate. in so far as the dust-particles were opaque they would obscure these rays; where they were transparent or polished they would refract and reflect them. that the material of which those dust-particles was composed was very various has been ascertained, proved, and recorded by the krakatoa committee. the attempt to expound this matter would probably overtax the endurance of the average reader, yet it may interest all to know that this dust-cloud travelled westward within the tropics at the rate of about double the speed of an express train--say miles an hour; crossed the indian ocean and africa in three days, the atlantic in two, america in two, and, in short, put a girdle round the world in thirteen days. moreover, the cloud of dust was so big that it took two or three days to pass any given point. during its second circumnavigation it was considerably spread and thinned, and the third time still more so, having expanded enough to include europe and the greater part of north america. it had thinned away altogether and disappeared in the spring of . who has not seen--at least read or heard of--the gorgeous skies of the autumn of ? not only in britain, but in all parts of the world, these same skies were seen, admired, and commented on as marvellous. and so they were. one of the chief peculiarities about them, besides their splendour, was the fact that they consisted chiefly of "afterglows"--that is, an increase of light and splendour _after_ the setting of the sun, when, in an ordinary state of things, the grey shadows of evening would have descended on the world. greenish-blue suns; pink clouds; bright yellow, orange, and crimson afterglows; gorgeous, magnificent, blood-red skies--the commentators seemed unable to find language adequately to describe them. listen to a german observer's remarks on the subject:-- "the display of november th was the grandest and most manifold. i give a description as exactly; as possible, for its overwhelming magnificence still presents itself to me as if it had been yesterday. when the sun had set about a quarter of an hour, there was not much afterglow, but i had observed a remarkably yellow bow in the south, about ° above the horizon. in about ten minutes more this arc rose pretty quickly, extended itself all over the east and up to and beyond the zenith. the sailors declared, 'sir, that is the northern lights.' i thought i had never seen northern lights in greater splendour. after five minutes more the-light had faded, though not vanished, in the east and south, and the finest purple-red rose up in the south-west; one could imagine one's-self in fairyland." all this, and a great deal more, was caused by the dust of krakatoa! "but how--how--why?" exclaims an impatient and puzzled reader. "ay--there's the rub." rubbing, by the way, may have had something to do with it. at all events we are safe to say that whatever there was of electricity in the matter resulted from friction. here is what the men of science say--as far as we can gather and condense. the fine dust blown out of krakatoa was found, under the microscope, to consist of excessively thin, transparent plates or irregular specks of pumice--which inconceivably minute fragments were caused by enormous steam pressure in the interior and the sudden expansion of the masses blown out into the atmosphere. of this glassy dust, that which was blown into the regions beyond the clouds must have been much finer even than that which was examined. these glass fragments were said by dr. flügel to contain either innumerable air-bubbles or minute needle-like crystals, or both. small though these vesicles were when ejected from the volcano, they would become still smaller by bursting when they suddenly reached a much lower pressure of atmosphere at a great height. some of them, however, owing to tenacity of material and other causes, might have failed to burst and would remain floating in the upper air as perfect microscopic glass balloons. thus the dust was a mass of particles of every conceivable shape, and so fine that no watches, boxes, or instruments were tight enough to exclude from their interior even that portion of the dust which was heavy enough to remain on earth! now, to the unscientific reader it is useless to say more than that the innumerable and varied positions of these glassy particles, some transparent, others semi-transparent or opaque, reflecting the sun's rays in different directions, with a complex modification of colour and effect resulting from the blueness of the sky, the condition of the atmosphere, and many other causes--all combined to produce the remarkable appearances of light and colour which aroused the admiration and wonder of the world in . the more one thinks of these things, and the deeper one dives into the mysteries of nature, the more profoundly is one impressed at once with a humbling sense of the limited amount of one's knowledge, and an awe-inspiring appreciation of the illimitable fields suggested by that comprehensive expression: "the wonderful works of god." chapter xxx. coming events, etc.--wonderful changes among the islands. some days after the wreck of the _sunshine_, as described in a previous chapter, captain roy and his son stood on the coast of java not far from the ruins of anjer. a vessel was anchored in the offing, and a little boat lay on the shore. all sign of elemental strife had passed, though a cloud of smoke hanging over the remains of krakatoa told that the terrible giant below was not dead but only sleeping--to awake, perchance, after a nap of another years. "well, father," said our hero with a modest look, "it may be, as you suggest, that winnie van der kemp does not care for me more than for a fathom of salt water----" "i did not say salt water, lad, i said bilge--a fathom o' _bilge_ water," interrupted the captain, who, although secretly rejoiced at the fact of his son having fallen over head and ears in love with the pretty little cocos-keeling islander, deemed it his duty, nevertheless, as a sternly upright parent, to, make quite sure that the love was mutual as well as deep before giving his consent to anything like courtship. "it matters not; salt or bilge water makes little difference," returned the son with a smile. "but all i can say is that i care for winnie so much that her love is to me of as much importance as sunshine to the world--and we have had some experience lately of what the want of _that_ means." "nonsense, nigel," returned the captain severely. "you're workin' yourself into them up-in-the-clouds, reef-point-patterin' regions again--which, by the way, should be pretty well choked wi' krakatoa dust by this time. come down out o' that if ye want to hold or'nary intercourse wi' your old father. she's far too young yet, my boy. you must just do as many a young fellow has done before you, attend to your dooties and forget her." "forget her!" returned the youth, with that amused, quiet expression which wise men sometimes assume when listening to foolish suggestions. "i could almost as easily forget my mother!" "a very proper sentiment, nigel, very--especially the 'almost' part of it." "besides," continued the son, "she is not so _very_ young--and that difficulty remedies itself every hour. moreover, i too am young. i can wait." "the selfishness of youth is only equalled by its presumption," said the captain. "how d'ee know _she_ will wait?" "i don't know, father, but i hope she will--i--i--_think_ she will." "nigel," said the captain, in a tone and with a look that were meant to imply intense solemnity, "have you ever spoken to her about love?" "no, father." "has she ever spoken to _you_?" "no--at least--not with her lips." "come, boy, you're humbuggin' your old father. her tongue couldn't well do it without the lips lendin' a hand." "well then--with neither," returned the son. "she spoke with her eyes--not intentionally, of course, for the eyes, unlike the lips, refuse to be under control." "hm! i see--reef-point-patterin' poetics again! an' what did she say with her eyes?" "really, father, you press me too hard; it is difficult to translate eye-language, but if you'll only let memory have free play and revert to that time, nigh quarter of a century ago, when you first met with a certain _real_ poetess, perhaps--" "ah! you dog! you have me there. but how dare you, sir, venture to think of marryin' on nothin'?" "i don't think of doing so. am i not a first mate with a handsome salary?" "no, lad, you're not. you're nothin' better than a seaman out o' work, with your late ship wrecked in a cocoa-nut grove!" "that's true," returned nigel with a laugh. "but is not the cargo of the said ship safe in batavia? has not its owner a good bank account in england? won't another ship be wanted, and another first mate, and would the owner dare to pass over his own son, who is such a competent seaman--according to your own showing? come, father, i turn the tables on you and ask you to aid rather than resist me in this matter." "well, i will, my boy, i will," said the captain heartily, as he laid his hand on his son's shoulder. "but, seriously, you must haul off this little craft and clap a stopper on your tongue--ay, and on your eyes too--till three points are considered an' made quite clear. first, you must find out whether the hermit would be agreeable. second, you must look the matter straight in the face and make quite sure that you mean it. for better or for worse. no undoin' _that_ knot, nigel, once it's fairly tied! and, third, you must make quite sure that winnie is sure of her own mind, an' that--that--" "we're all sure all round, father. quite right. i agree with you. 'all fair an' aboveboard' should be the sailing orders of every man in such matters, especially of every seaman. but, will you explain how i am to make sure of winnie's state of mind without asking her about it?" "well, i don't exactly see my way," replied the captain slowly. "what d'ee say to my soundin' her on the subject?" "couldn't think of it! you may be first-rate at deep-sea soundings, father, but you couldn't sound the depths of a young girl's heart. i must reserve that for myself, however long it may be delayed." "so be it, lad. the only embargo that i lay upon you is--haul off, and mind you don't let your figurehead go by the board. meanwhile, here comes the boat. now, nigel, none o' your courtin' till everything is settled and the wind fair--dead aft my lad, and blowin' stiff. you and the hermit are goin' off to krakatoa to-day, i suppose?" "yes. i am just now waiting for him and moses," returned nigel. "is winnie going?" "don't know. i hope so." "humph! well, if we have a fair wind i shall soon be in batavia," said the captain, descending to business matters, "and i expect without trouble to dispose of the cargo that we landed there, as well as that part o' the return cargo which i had bought before i left for keeling--at a loss, no doubt, but that don't matter much. then i'll come back here by the first craft that offers--arter which----. ay!--ay! shove her in here. plenty o' water." the last remark was made to the seaman who steered the boat sent from the vessel in the offing. a short time thereafter captain roy was sailing away for batavia, while his son, with van der kemp, moses, winnie, and spinkie, was making for krakatoa in a native boat. the hermit, in spite of his injuries, had recovered his wonted appearance, if not his wonted vigour. winnie seemed to have suddenly developed into a mature woman under her recent experiences, though she had lost none of her girlish grace and attractiveness. as for moses--time and tide seemed to have no effect whatever on his ebony frame, and still less, if possible, on his indomitable spirit. "now you keep still," he said in solemn tones and with warning looks to spinkie. "if you keep fidgitin' about you'll capsize de boat. you hear?" spinkie veiled his real affection for the negro under a look of supreme indifference, while winnie went off into a sudden giggle at the idea of such a small creature capsizing the boat. mindful of his father's warning, nigel did his best to "haul off" and to prevent his "figurehead" from going "by the board." but he found it uncommonly hard work, for winnie looked so innocent, so pretty, so unconscious, so sympathetic with everybody and everything, so very young, yet so wondrously wise and womanly, that he felt an irresistible desire to prostrate himself at her feet in abject slavery. "dear little thing," said winnie, putting her hand on spinkie's little head and smoothing him down from eyes to tail. spinkie looked as if half inclined to withdraw his allegiance from moses and bestow it on winnie, but evidently changed his mind after a moment's reflection. "o that i were a monkey!" thought nigel, paraphrasing shakespeare, "that i might----" but it is not fair to our hero to reveal him in his weaker moments! there was something exasperating, too, in being obliged, owing to the size of the boat, to sit so close to winnie without having a right to touch her hand! who has not experienced this, and felt himself to be a very hero of self-denial in the circumstances? "mos' awrful hot!" remarked moses, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. "_you_ hot!" said nigel in surprise. "i thought nothing on earth could be too hot for you." "dat's your ignerance," returned moses calmly. "us niggers, you see, ought to suffer more fro' heat dan you whites." "how so?" "why, don't your flossiphers say dat black am better dan white for 'tractin' heat, an' ain't our skins black? i wish we'd bin' born white as chalk. i say, massa nadgel, seems to me dat dere's not much left ob krakatoa." they had approached near enough to the island by that time to perceive that wonderful changes had indeed taken place, and van der kemp, who had been for some time silently absorbed in contemplation, at last turned to his daughter and said-- "i had feared at first, winnie, that my old home had been blown entirely away, but i see now that the peak of rakata still stands, so perhaps i may yet show you the cave in which i have spent so many years." "but why did you go to live in such a strange place, dear father?" asked the girl, laying her hand lovingly on the hermit's arm. van der kemp did not reply at once. he gazed in his child's face with an increase of that absent air and far-away look which nigel, ever since he met him, had observed as one of his characteristics. at this time an anxious thought crossed him,--that perhaps the blows which his friend had received on his head when he was thrown on the deck of the _sunshine_ might have injured his brain. "it is not easy to answer your question, dear one," he said after a time, laying his strong hand on the girl's head, and smoothing her luxuriant hair which hung in the untrammelled freedom of nature over her shoulders. "i have felt sometimes, during the last few days, as if i were awaking out of a long long dream, or recovering from a severe illness in which delirium had played a prominent part. even now, though i see and touch you, i sometimes tremble lest i should really awake and find that it is all a dream. i have so often--so _very_ often--dreamed something like it in years gone by, but never so vividly as now! i cannot doubt--it is sin to doubt--that my prayers have been at last answered. god is good and wise. he knows what is best and does not fail in bringing the best to pass. yet i have doubted him--again and again." van der kemp paused here and drew his hand across his brow as if to clear away sad memories of the past, while winnie drew closer to him and looked up tenderly in his face. "when your mother died, dear one," he resumed, "it seemed to me as if the sun had left the heavens, and when _you_ were snatched from me, it was as though my soul had fled and nought but animal life remained. i lived as if in a terrible dream. i cannot recall exactly what i did or where i went for a long long time. i know i wandered through the archipelago looking for you, because i did not believe at first that you were dead. it was at this time i took up my abode in the cave of rakata, and fell in with my good faithful friend moses--" "your sarvint, massa," interrupted the negro humbly. "i's proud to be call your frind, but i's only your sarvint, massa." "truly you have been my faithful servant, moses," said van der kemp, "but not the less have you been my trusted friend. he nursed me through a long and severe illness, winnie. how long, i am not quite sure. after a time i nearly lost hope. then there came a very dark period, when i was forced to believe that you must be dead. yet, strange to say, even during this dark time i did not cease to pray and to wander about in search of you. i suppose it was the force of habit, for hope seemed to have died. then, at last, nigel found you. god used him as his instrument. and now, praise to his name, we are reunited--for ever!" "darling father!" were the only words that winnie could utter as she laid her head on the hermit's shoulder and wept for joy. two ideas, which had not occurred to him before, struck nigel with great force at that moment. the one was that whatever or wherever his future household should be established, if winnie was to be its chief ornament, her father must of necessity become a member of it. the other idea was that he was destined to possess a negro servant with a consequent and unavoidable monkey attendant! how strange the links of which the chain of human destiny is formed, and how wonderful the powers of thought by which that chain is occasionally forecast! how to convey all these possessions to england and get them comfortably settled there was a problem which he did not care to tackle just then. "see, winnie," said van der kemp, pointing with interest to a mark on the side of rakata, "yonder is the mouth of my cave. i never saw it so clearly before because of the trees and bushes, but everything seems now to have been burnt up." "das so, massa, an' what hasn't bin bu'nt up has bin blow'd up!" remarked the negro. "looks very like it, moses, unless that is a haze which enshrouds the rest of the island," rejoined the other, shading his eyes with his hands. it was no haze, however; for they found, on drawing nearer, that the greater part of krakatoa had, as we have already said, actually disappeared from the face of the earth. when the boat finally rounded the point which hid the northern part of the island from view, a sight was presented which it is not often given to human eyes to look upon. the whole mountain named the peak of rakata ( feet high) had been split from top to bottom, and about one-half of it, with all that part of the island lying to the northward, had been blown away, leaving a wall or almost sheer precipice which presented a grand section of the volcano. pushing their boat into a creek at the base of this precipice, the party landed and tried to reach a position from which a commanding view might be obtained. this was not an easy matter, for there was not a spot for a foot to rest on which was not covered deeply with pumice-dust and ashes. by dint of perseverance, however, they gained a ledge whence the surrounding district could be observed, and then it was clearly seen how wide-spread and stupendous the effects of the explosion had been. where the greater part of the richly wooded island had formerly flourished, the ocean now rippled in the sunshine, and of the smaller islands around it _lang_ island had been considerably increased in bulk as well as in height. _verlaten_ island had been enlarged to more than three times its former size and also much increased in height. the island named _polish hat_ had disappeared altogether, and two entirely new islets--afterwards named _steers_ and _calmeyer_ islands--had arisen to the northward. "now, friends," said van der kemp, after they had noted and commented on the vast and wonderful changes that had taken place, "we will pull round to our cave and see what has happened there." descending to the boat they rowed round the southern shores of rakata until they reached the little harbour where the boat and canoe had formerly been kept. chapter xxxi. ends with a struggle between inclination and duty. "de cave's blowed away too!" was the first remark of moses as they rowed into the little port. a shock of disappointment was experienced by winnie, for she fancied that the negro had referred to her father's old home, but he only meant the lower cave in which the canoe had formerly been kept. she was soon relieved as to this point, however, but, when a landing was effected, difficulties that seemed to her almost insurmountable presented themselves, for the ground was covered knee-deep with pumice-dust, and the road to the upper cave was blocked by rugged masses of lava and ashes, all heaped up in indescribable confusion. on careful investigation, however, it was found that after passing a certain point the footpath was almost unencumbered by volcanic débris. this was owing to the protection afforded to it by the cone of rakata, and the almost overhanging nature of some of the cliffs on that side of the mountain; still the track was bad enough, and in places so rugged, that winnie, vigorous and agile though she was, found it both difficult and fatiguing to advance. seeing this, her father proposed to carry her, but she laughingly declined the proposal. whereupon nigel offered to lend her a hand over the rougher places, but this she also declined. then moses, stepping forward, asserted his rights. "it's _my_ business," he said, "to carry t'ings w'en dey's got to be carried. m'r'over, as i's bin obleeged to leabe spinkie in charge ob de boat, i feels okard widout somet'ing to carry, an' you ain't much heavier dan spinkie, miss winnie--so, come along." he stooped with the intention of grasping winnie as if she were a little child, but with a light laugh the girl sprang away and left moses behind. "'s'my opinion," said moses, looking after her with a grin, "dat if de purfesser was here he 'd net her in mistook for a bufferfly. dar!--she's down!" he shouted, springing forward, but nigel was before him. winnie had tripped and fallen. "are you hurt, dear--child?" asked nigel, raising her gently. "oh no! only a little shaken," answered winnie, with a little laugh that was half hysterical. "i am strong enough to go on presently." "nay, my child, you _must_ suffer yourself to be carried at this part," said van der kemp. "take her up, nigel, you are stronger than i am _now_. i would not have asked you to do it before my accident!" our hero did not need a second bidding. grasping winnie in his strong arms he raised her as if she had been a feather, and strode away at a pace so rapid that he soon left van der kemp and moses far behind. "put me down, now," said winnie, after a little while, in a low voice. "i'm quite recovered now and can walk." "nay, winnie, you are mistaken. the path is very rough yet, and the dust gets deeper as we ascend. _do_ give me the pleasure of helping you a little longer." whatever winnie may have felt or thought she said nothing, and nigel, taking silence for consent, bore her swiftly onward and upward,--with an "excelsior" spirit that would have thrown the alpine youth with the banner and the strange device considerably into the shade,--until he placed her at the yawning black mouth of the hermit's cave. but what a change was there! the trees and flowering shrubs and ferns were all gone, lava, pumice, and ashes lay thick on everything around, and only a few blackened and twisted stumps of the larger trees remained to tell that an umbrageous forest had once flourished there. the whole scene might be fittingly described in the two words--grey desolation. "that is the entrance to your father's old home," said nigel, as he set his fair burden down and pointed to the entrance. "what a dreadful place!" said winnie, peering into the black depths of the cavern. "it was not dreadful when i first saw it, winnie, with rich verdure everywhere; and inside you will find it surprisingly comfortable. but we must not enter until your father arrives to do the honours of the place himself." they had not to wait long. first moses arrived, and, shrewdly suspecting from the appearance of the young couple that they were engaged in conversation that would not brook interruption, or, perhaps, judging from what might be his own wishes in similar circumstances, he turned his back suddenly on them, and, stooping down, addressed himself to an imaginary creature of the animal kingdom. "what a bootiful bufferfly you is, to be sure! up on sitch a place too, wid nuffin' to eat 'cept krakatoa dust. i wonder what your moder would say if she know'd you was here. you should be ashamed ob yourself!" "hallo! moses, what are you talking to over there?" "nuffin', massa nadgel. i was on'y habin' a brief conv'sation wid a member ob de insect wurld in commemoration ob de purfesser. leastwise, if it warn't a insect it must hab bin suffm' else. won't you go in, miss winnie?" "no, i'd rather wait for father," returned the girl, looking a little flushed, for some strange and totally unfamiliar ideas had recently floated into her brain and caused some incomprehensible flutterings of the heart to which hitherto she had been a stranger. mindful of his father's injunctions, however, nigel had been particularly careful to avoid increasing these flutterings. in a few minutes the hermit came up. "ah! winnie," he said, "there has been dire devastation here. perhaps inside things may look better. come, take my hand and don't be afraid. the floor is level and your eyes will soon get accustomed to the dim light." "i's afeared, massa," remarked moses, as they entered the cavern, "dat your sun-lights won't be wu'th much now." "you are right, lad. go on before us and light the lamps if they are not broken." it was found, as they had expected, that, the only light which penetrated the cavern was that which entered by the cave's mouth, which of course was very feeble. presently, to winnie's surprise, moses was seen issuing from the kitchen with a petroleum lamp in one hand, the brilliant light of which not only glittered on his expressive black visage but sent a ruddy glare all over the cavern. van der kemp seemed to watch his daughter intently as she gazed in a bewildered way around. there was a puzzled look as well as mere surprise in her pretty face. "father," she said earnestly, "you have spoken more than once of living as if in a dream. perhaps you will wonder when i tell you that i experience something of that sort now. strange though this place seems, i have an unaccountable feeling that it is not absolutely new to me--that i have seen it before." "i do not wonder, dear one," he replied, "for the drawings that surround this chamber were the handiwork of your dear mother, and they decorated the walls of your own nursery when you were a little child at your mother's knee. for over ten long years they have surrounded me and kept your faces fresh in my memory--though, truth to tell, it needed no such reminders to do that. come, let us examine them." it was pleasant to see the earnest face of winnie as she half-recognised and strove to recall the memories of early childhood in that singular cavern. it was also a sight worth seeing--the countenance of nigel, as well as that of the hermit, while they watched and admired her eager, puzzled play of feature, and it was the most amazing sight of all to see the all but superhuman joy of moses as he held the lamp and listened to facts regarding the past of his beloved master which were quite new to him--for the hermit spoke as openly about his past domestic affairs as if he and winnie had been quite alone. "he either forgets that we are present, or counts us as part of his family," thought nigel with a feeling of satisfaction. "what a dear comoonicative man!" thought moses, with unconcealed pleasure. "come now, let us ascend to the observatory," said the hermit, when all the things in the library had been examined. "there has been damage done there, i know; besides, there is a locket there which belonged to your mother. i left it by mistake one day when i went up to arrange the mirrors, and in the hurry of leaving forgot to return for it. indeed, one of my main objects in re-visiting my old home was to fetch that locket away. it contains a lock of hair and one of those miniatures which men used to paint before photography drove such work off the field." winnie was nothing loth to follow, for she had reached a romantic period of life, and it seemed to her that to be led through mysterious caves and dark galleries in the very heart of a still active volcano by her own father--the hermit of rakata--was the very embodiment of romance itself. but a disappointment awaited them, for they had not proceeded halfway through the dark passage when it was found that a large mass of rock had fallen from the roof and almost blocked it up. "there is a space big enough for us to creep through at the right-hand corner above, i think," said nigel, taking the lantern from moses and examining the spot. "jump up, moses, and try it," said the hermit. "if your bulky shoulders get through, we can all manage it." the negro was about to obey the order when nigel let the lantern fall and the shock extinguished it. "oh! massa nadgel; das a pritty business!" "never mind," said van der kemp. "i've got matches, i think, in my--no, i haven't. have you, moses?" "no, massa, i forgit to remember him." "no matter, run back--you know the road well enough to follow it in the dark. we will wait here till you return. be smart, now!" moses started off at once and for some moments the sound of clattering along the passage was heard. "i will try to clamber through in the dark. look after winnie, nigel--and don't leave the spot where you stand, dear one, for there are cracks and holes about that might sprain your little ankles." "very well, father." "all right. i've got through, nigel; i'll feel my way on for a little bit. remain where you are." "winnie," said nigel when they were alone, "doesn't it feel awesome and strange to be standing here in such intense darkness?" "it does--i don't quite like it." "whereabouts are you?" said nigel. he carefully stretched out his hand to feel, as he spoke, and laid a finger on her brow. "oh! take care of my eyes!" exclaimed winnie with a little laugh. "_i_ wish you would turn your eyes towards me for i'm convinced they would give some light--? to _me_ at least. here, do let me hold your hand it will make you feel more confident." to one who is at all familiar with the human frame, the way from the brow to the hand is comparatively simple. nigel soon possessed himself of the coveted article. like other things of great value the possession turned the poor youth's head! he forgot his father's warnings for the moment, forgot the hermit and moses and spinkie, and the thick darkness--forgot almost everything in the light of that touch! "winnie!" he exclaimed in a tone that quite alarmed her; "i--i--" he hesitated. the solemn embargo of his father recurred to him. "what is it! is there danger?" exclaimed the poor girl, clasping his hand tighter and drawing nearer to him. this was too much! nigel felt himself to be contemptible. he was taking unfair advantage of her. "winnie," he began again, in a voice of forced calmness, "there is no danger whatever. i'm an ass--a dolt--that's all! the fact is, i made my father a sort of half promise that i would not ask your opinion on a certain subject until--until i found out exactly what you thought about it. now the thing is ridiculous--impossible--for how can i know your opinion on any subject until i have asked you?" "quite true," returned winnie simply, "so you better ask me." "ha! _ha_!" laughed nigel, in a sort of desperate amusement, "i--i--yes, i _will_ ask you, winnie! but first i must explain----" "hallo! nigel!" came at that moment from the other side of the obstruction, "are you there--all right?" "yes, yes--i'm here--_not_ all right exactly, but i'll be all right _some day_, you may depend upon that!" shouted the youth, in a tone of indignant exasperation. "what said you?" asked van der kemp, putting his head through the hole. "hi! i's a-comin', look out, dar!" hallooed moses in the opposite direction. "just so," said nigel, resuming his quiet tone and demeanour, "we'll be all right when the light comes. here, give us your hand, van der kemp." the hermit accepted the proffered aid and leaped down amongst his friends just as moses arrived with the lantern. "it's of no use going further," he said. "the passage is completely blocked up--so we must go round to where the mountain has been split off and try to clamber up. there will be daylight enough yet if we are quick. come." chapter xxxii. the last. descending to the boat they rowed round to the face of the great cliff which had been so suddenly laid bare when the peak of rakata was cleft from its summit to its foundations in the sea. it was a wonderful sight--a magnificent section, affording a marvellous view of the internal mechanism of a volcano. but there was no time to spend in contemplation of this extraordinary sight, for evening approached and the hermit's purpose had to be accomplished. high up near the top of the mighty cliff could be seen a small hole in the rock, which was all that remained of the observatory. "it will be impossible, i fear, to reach that spot," said nigel; "there does not appear to be foothold for a goat." "i will reach it," said the hermit in a low voice, as he scanned the precipice carefully. "so will i," said the negro. "no, moses, i go alone. you will remain in the boat and watch. if i fall, you can pick me up." "pick you up!" echoed moses. "if you tumbles a t'ousand feet into de water how much t'ink you will be lef to pick up?" it was useless to attempt to dissuade van der kemp. being well aware of this, they all held their peace while he landed on a spur of the riven cliff. the first part of the ascent was easy enough, the ground having been irregularly broken, so that the climber disappeared behind masses of rock at times, while he kept as much as possible to the western edge of the mountain where the cleavage had occurred; but as he ascended he was forced to come out upon narrow ledges that had been left here and there on the face of the cliff, where he seemed, to those who were watching far below, like a mere black spot on the face of a gigantic wall. still upward he went, slowly but steadily, till he reached a spot nearly level with the observatory. here he had to go out on the sheer precipice, where his footholds were invisible from below. winnie sat in the boat with blanched face and tightly clasped hands, panting with anxiety as she gazed upwards. "it looks much more dangerous from here than it is in reality," said nigel to her in a reassuring tone. "das true, massa nadgel, das bery true," interposed moses, endeavouring to comfort himself as well as the others by the intense earnestness of his manner. "de only danger, miss winnie, lies in your fadder losin' his head at sitch a t'riffic height, an' dar's no fear at all ob dat, for massa neber loses his head--pooh! you might as well talk ob him losin' his heart. look! look! he git close to de hole now--he put his foot--yes--next step--dar! he've done it!" with the perspiration of anxiety streaming down his face the negro relieved his feelings by a wild prolonged cheer. nigel obtained the same relief by means of a deep long-drawn sigh, but winnie did not move; she seemed to realise her father's danger better than her companions, and remembered that the descent would be much more difficult than the ascent. they were not kept long in suspense. in a few minutes the hermit reappeared and began to retrace his steps--slowly but steadily--and the watchers breathed more freely. moses was right; there was in reality little danger in the climb, for the ledges which appeared to them like mere threads, and the footholds that were almost invisible, were in reality from a foot to three feet wide. the only danger lay in the hermit's head being unable to stand the trial, but, as moses had remarked, there was no fear of that. the watchers were therefore beginning to feel somewhat relieved from the tension of their anxiety, when a huge mass of rock was seen to slip from the face of the cliff and descend with the thunderous roar of an avalanche. the incident gave those in the boat a shock, for the landslip occurred not far from the spot which van der kemp had reached, but as he still stood there in apparent safety there seemed no cause for alarm till it was observed that the climber remained quite still for a long time and, seemed to have no intention of moving. "god help him!" cried nigel in sudden alarm, "the ledge has been carried away and he cannot advance! stay by the boat, moses, i will run to help him!" "no, massa nadgel," returned the negro, "i go to die wid 'im. boat kin look arter itself." he sprang on shore as he spoke, and dashed up the mountain-side like a hunted hare. our hero looked at winnie for an instant in hesitation. "go!" said the poor girl. "you know i can manage a boat--quick!" another moment and nigel was following in the track of the negro. they gained the broken ledge together, and then found that the space between the point which they had reached and the spot on which the hermit stood was a smooth face of perpendicular rock--an absolutely impassable gulf! van der kemp was standing with his back flat against the precipice and his feet resting on a little piece of projecting rock not more than three inches wide. this was all that lay between him and the hideous depth below, for nigel found on carefully drawing nearer that the avalanche had been more extensive than was apparent from below, and that the ledge beyond the hermit had been also carried away--thus cutting off his retreat as well as his advance. "i can make no effort to help myself," said van der kemp in a low but calm voice, when our hero's foot rested on the last projecting point that he could gain, and found that with the utmost reach of his arm he could not get within six inches of his friend's outstretched hand. besides, nigel himself stood on so narrow a ledge, and against so steep a cliff, that he could not have acted with his wonted power even if the hand could have been grasped. moses stood immediately behind nigel, where the ledge was broader and where a shallow recess in the rock enabled him to stand with comparative ease. the poor fellow seemed to realise the situation more fully than his companion, for despair was written on every feature of his expressive face. "what is to be done?" said nigel, looking back. "de boat-rope," suggested the negro. "useless," said van der kemp, in a voice as calm and steady as if he were in perfect safety, though the unusual pallor of his grave countenance showed that he was fully alive to the terrible situation. "i am resting on little more than my heels, and the strain is almost too much for me even now. i could not hold on till you went to the boat and returned. no, it seems to be god's will--and," added he humbly, "his will be done." "o god, send us help!" cried nigel in an agony of feeling that he could not master. "if i had better foothold i might spring towards you and catch hold of you," said the hermit, "but i cannot spring off my heels. besides, i doubt if you could bear my weight." "try, try!" cried nigel, eagerly extending his hand. "don't fear for my strength--i've got plenty of it, thank god! and see, i have my right arm wedged into a crevice so firmly that nothing could haul it out." but van der kemp shook his head. "i cannot even make the attempt," he said. "the slightest move would plunge me down. dear boy! i know that you and your father and moses will care for my winnie, and--" "massa!" gasped moses, who while the hermit was speaking had been working his body with mysterious and violent energy; "massa! couldn't you _fall_ dis way, an' nadgel could kitch your hand, an' i's got my leg shoved into a hole as nuffin' 'll haul it out ob. dere's a holler place here. if nadgel swings you into dat, an' i only once grab you by de hair--you're safe!" "it might be done--tried at least," said the hermit, looking anxiously at his young friend. "try it!" cried nigel, "i won't fail you." it is not possible for any except those who have gone through a somewhat similar ordeal to understand fully the test of cool courage which van der kemp had to undergo on that occasion. shutting his eyes for a moment in silent prayer, he deliberately worked with his shoulders upon the cliff against which he leaned until he felt himself to be on the point of falling towards his friend, and the two outstretched hands almost touched. "now, are you ready?" he asked. "ready," replied nigel, while moses wound both his powerful arms round his comrade's waist and held on. another moment and the hands clasped, nigel uttered an irrepressible shout as the hermit swung off, and, coming round with great violence to the spot where the negro had fixed himself, just succeeded in catching the edge of the cliff with his free hand. "let go, nigel," he shouted;--"safe!" the poor youth was only too glad to obey, for the tremendous pull had wrenched his arm out of the crevice in which he had fixed it, and for a moment he swayed helplessly over the awful abyss. "don't let me go, moses!" he yelled, as he made a frantic but futile effort to regain his hold,--for he felt that the negro had loosened one of his arms though the other was still round him like a hoop of iron. "no fear, nadgel," said moses, "i's got you tight--only don' wriggle. now, massa, up you come." moses had grasped his master's hair with a grip: that well-nigh scalped him, and he held on until the hermit had got a secure hold of the ledge with both hands. then he let the hair go, for he knew that to an athlete like his master the raising himself by his arms on to the ledge would be the work of a few seconds. van der kemp was thus able to assist in rescuing nigel from his position of danger. but the expressions of heartfelt thankfulness for this deliverance which naturally broke from them were abruptly checked when it was found that moses could by no means extract his leg out of the hole into which he had thrust it, and that he was suffering great pain. after some time, and a good deal of violent wrenching, during which our sable hero mingled a few groans in strange fashion with his congratulations, he was got free, and then it was found that the strain had been too much for even his powerful bones and sinews, for the leg was broken. "my poor fellow!" murmured van der kemp, as he went down on his knees to examine the limb. "don' care a buttin for dat, massa. you're safe, an' nadgel's safe--an' it only cost a broken leg! pooh! das nuffin'!" said moses, unable to repress a few tears in the excess of his joy and pain! with considerable difficulty they carried the poor negro down to the boat, where they found winnie, as might be supposed, in a half-fainting condition from the strain of prolonged anxiety and terror to which she had been subjected; but the necessity of attending to the case of the injured moses was an antidote which speedily restored her. do you think, good reader, that nigel and winnie had much difficulty in coming to an understanding after that, or that the hermit was disposed to throw any obstacles in the way of true love? if you do, let us assure you that you are mistaken. surely this is information enough for any intelligent reader. still, it may be interesting to add, difficulties did not all at once disappear. the perplexities that had already assailed nigel more than once assailed him again--perplexities about a negro man-servant, and a household monkey, and a hermit father-in-law, and a small income--to say nothing of a disconsolate mother-poetess in england and a father roving on the high seas! how to overcome these difficulties gave him much thought and trouble; but they were overcome at last. that which seemed impossible to man proved to be child's-play in the hands of woman. winnie solved the difficulty by suggesting that they should all return to the cocos-keeling islands and dwell together there for evermore! * * * * * let us drop in on them, good reader, at a later period, have a look at them, and bid them all good-bye. on a green knoll by the margin of the lagoon stands a beautiful cottage with a garden around it, and a pleasure-boat resting on the white coral sand in front. from the windows of that cottage there is a most magnificent view of the lagoon with its numerous islets and its picturesque palm-trees. within that cottage dwell nigel and winnie, and a brown-eyed, brown-haired, fair-skinned baby girl who is "the most extraordinary angel that ever was born." it has a nurse of its own, but is chiefly waited on and attended to by an antique poetess, who dwells in another cottage, a stone's-cast off, on the same green knoll. there she inspires an ancient mariner with poetical sentiments--not your up-in-the-clouds, reef-point-pattering nonsense, observe; but the real genuine article, superior to "that other fellow's," you know--when not actively engaged with _the_ baby. the first cottage is named rakata, in honour of our hermit, who is one of its inhabitants. the second is named krakatoa by its eccentric owner, captain roy. it must not be imagined, however, that our friends have settled down there to spend their lives in idleness. by no means. this probably would not be permitted by the "king of the cocos islands" even if they wished to do so. but they do not wish that. there is no such condition as idleness in the lives of good men and women. nigel has taken to general superintendence of the flourishing community in the midst of which he has cast his lot. he may be almost regarded as the prime minister of the islands, in addition to which he has started an extensive boat-building business and a considerable trade in cocoa-nuts, etc., with the numerous islands of the java sea; also a saw-mill, and a forge, and a sunday-school--in which last the pretty, humble-minded winnie lends most efficient aid. indeed it is said that she is the chief manager as well as the life and soul of that business, though nigel gets all the credit. captain roy sometimes sails his son's vessels, and sometimes looks after the secular education of the sunday-school children--the said education being conducted on the principle of unlimited story-telling with illimitable play of fancy. but his occupations are irregular--undertaken by fits and starts, and never to be counted on. his evenings he usually devotes to poetry and pipes--for the captain is obstinate, and sticks--like most of us--to his failings as well as his fancies. there is a certain eccentric individual with an enthusiastic temperament and blue binoculars who pays frequent and prolonged visits to the keeling islands. it need scarcely be said that his name is verkimier. there is no accounting for the tastes of human beings. notwithstanding all his escapes and experiences, that indomitable man of science still ranges, like a mad philosopher, far and wide over the archipelago in pursuit of "booterflies ant ozer specimens of zee insect vorld." it is observed, however, even by the most obtuse among his friends, that whereas in former times the professor's nights were centrifugal they have now become centripetal--the keeling islands being the great centre towards which he flies. verkimier is, and probably will always be, a subject of wonder and of profound speculation to the youthful inhabitants of the islands. they don't understand him and he does not understand them. if they were insects he would take deep and intelligent interest in them. as they are merely human beings, he regards them with that peculiar kind of interest with which men regard the unknown and unknowable. he is by no means indifferent to them. he is too kindly for that. he studies them deeply, though hopelessly, and when he enters the sunday-school with his binoculars--which he often does, to listen--a degree of awe settles down on the little ones which it is impossible to evoke by the most solemn appeals to their spiritual natures. nigel and winnie have a gardener, and that gardener is black--as black as the ace of spades or the king of ashantee. he dwells in a corner of the rakata cottage, but is addicted to spending much of his spare time in the krakatoa one. he is as strong and powerful as ever, but limps slightly on his right leg--his "game" leg, as he styles it. he is, of course, an _immense_ favourite with the young people--not less than with the old. he has been known to say, with a solemnity that might tickle the humorous and horrify the timid, that he wouldn't "hab dat game leg made straight agin! no, not for a hundred t'ousand pounds. 'cause why? --it was an eber-present visible reminder dat once upon a time he had de libes ob massa and nadgel in his arms ahangin' on to his game leg, an' dat, t'rough gracious goodness, he sabe dem bof!" ha! you may smile at moses if you will, but he can return the smile with kindly interest, for he is actuated by that grand principle which will sooner or later transform even the scoffers of earth, and which is embodied in the words--"love is the fulfilling of the law." even the lower animals testify to this fact when the dog licks the hand that smites it and accords instant forgiveness on the slightest encouragement. does not spinkie prove it also, when, issuing at call, from its own pagoda in the sunniest corner of the rakata garden, it forsakes cocoa-nuts, sugar-cane, fruits, and other delights, to lay its little head in joyful consecration on the black bosom of its benignant friend? and what of moses' opinion of the new home? it may be shortly expressed in his own words-"it's heaben upon eart', an' de most happiest time as eber occurred to me was dat time when sunda straits went into cumbusti'n an' krakatoa was blown to bits." the end printed by t. and a. constable, printers to her majesty, _at the edinburgh university press_. * * * * * +advertisements+ by mr. r.m. ballantyne. with illustrations. crown vo, s. d. each. * * * * * 'the fathers, mothers, guardians, uncles, and aunts who wish to find an acceptable birthday present for a healthy-minded boy of normal tastes, cannot possibly go wrong if they buy a book with mr. ballantyne's name on the title-page.'--_academy_. * * * * * +the hot swamp+: a romance of old albion. +the buffalo runners+: a tale of the red river plains. +charlie to the rescue+: a tale of the sea and the rockies. +blown to bits+; or, the lonely man of rakata: a tale of the malay archipelago. +blue lights+; or, hot work in the soudan. a tale of soldier life. +the fugitives+; or, the tyrant queen of madagascar. +red rooney+; or, the last of the crew. +the rover of the andes+: a tale of adventure in south america. +the young trawler+: a story of life, death, and rescue in the north sea. +dusty diamonds, cut and polished+: a tale of city arab life. +the battery and the boiler+; or, adventures of a telegraph-cable layer. +the giant of the north+; or, pokings round the pole. +the lonely island+; or, the refuge of the mutineers. +post haste+: a tale of her majesty's mails. +in the track of the troops+: a tale of modern war. +the settler and the savage+: a tale of peace and war in south africa. +under the waves+; or, diving in deep waters. +the lifeboat+: a tale of our coast heroes. +the golden dream+: a tale of the diggings. +the red eric+; or, the whaler's last cruise. +freaks on the fells+, and +why i+ did not become a sailor. +the wild man of the west+. +gascoyne, the sandalwood+ trader: a tale of the pacific. +rivers of ice+: a tale illustrative of alpine adventure and glacier action. +the pirate city+: an algerine tale. +black ivory+: a tale of adventure among the slavers of east africa. +the norsemen in the west+; or, america before columbus. +the iron horse+; or, life on the line. a railway tale. +erling the bold+: a tale of the norse sea kings. +fighting the flames+: a tale of the london fire brigade. +deep down+: a tale of the cornish mines. +the floating light of the goodwin sands+. +shifting winds+: a tough yarn. +the lighthouse+: being the story of a great fight between man and the sea. +the big otter+: a tale of the far nor'west. extra crown vo, s. +the walrus hunters+: a romance of the realms of ice. by mr. r.m. ballantyne. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. each. hunted and harried. a coxswain's bride; or, the rising tide. and other tales. the garret and the garden; or, low life high up. and jeff benson; or, the young coastguardsman. the crew of the water-wagtail. a story of newfoundland. the middy and the moors: an algerine tale. the prairie chief. life in the red brigade: a fiery tale. and fort desolation; or, solitude in the wilderness. the island queen; or, dethroned by fire and water. a tale of the southern hemisphere. twice bought: a tale of the oregon gold-fields. the madman and the pirate. my doggie and i. philosopher jack: a tale of the southern seas. the red man's revenge. six months at the cape. letters to periwinkle from south africa. a record of personal experience and adventure. battles with the sea; or, heroes of the lifeboat and the rocket. price s. d. each. tales of adventure by flood, field, and mountain. tales of adventure; or, wild work in strange places. tales of adventure on the coast. with numerous illustrations. crown vo. s. the kitten pilgrims; or, great battles and grand victories. london: james nisbet & co., berners street. james nisbet & co.'s select list of books suitable for presents and prizes, by well-known and popular writers. profusely illustrated and handsomely bound in cloth. _a complete list will be forwarded post free on application to the publishers_. works by mrs. marshall. "readers who value culture and refinement, but, above all, seek for truth and unction, will recommend her tales, especially for young ladies."-_churchman_. with numerous illustrations. +price five shillings each. extra crown vo.+ the close of st. christopher's. new relations. a story for girls. those three; or, little wings. eastward ho! a story for girls. laurel crowns; or, griselda's aim. houses on wheels. a story for children. +price three shillings and sixpence each. crown vo.+ in the purple. daphne's decision; or, which shall it be? the roses of ringwood. a story for children. cassandra's casket. silver chimes; or, olive. stories of the cathedral cities of england. poppies and pansies. rex and regina; or, the song of the river. dewdrops and diamonds. heather and harebell. mistress matchett's mistake. a very old story. sir valentine's victory, and other stories. our own picture book. illustrations. small to. +price two shillings and sixpence each.+ dulcibel's day-dreams; or, the grand, sweet song. with illustrations. crown vo. pictures illustrative of the lord's prayer. with appropriate stories for children. medium to. the life of our lord jesus christ for very young children. illustrations. medium to. mrs. marshall's works--continued. +price two shillings each.+ with illustrations. crown vo. oliver's old pictures; or, the magic circle. ruby and pearl; or, the children at castle aylmer. a story for little girls. +price one shilling and sixpence each.+ with illustrations. small crown vo. nature's gentleman. the bride's home. my lady bountiful. stellafont abbey; or, nothing new. golden silence. when i was young. matthew frost, carrier; or, little snowdrop's mission. michael's treasures; or, choice silver. my grandmother's pictures. marjory; or, the gift of peace. grace buxton; or, the light of home. three little brothers. three little sisters. the birth of a century; or, eighty years ago. the story of john marbeck: a windsor organist of years ago. his work and his reward. +price one shilling each.+ heathercliffe; or, it's no concern of mine. daisy bright. the little peat-cutters; or, the song of love. primrose; or, the bells of old effingham. to-day and yesterday: a story of summer and winter holidays. between the cliffs; or, hal forester's anchor. a violet in the shade. light on the lily; or, a flower's message. a rose without a thorn. a chip of the old block. +by r.m. ballantyne. with illustrations. extra crown vo. s.+ "the fathers, mothers, guardians, uncles, and aunts who wish to find an acceptable present for a healthy-minded boy cannot possibly go wrong if they buy a book with mr. ballantyne's name on the title-page."--_academy_. the walrus hunters: a tale of esquimaux land. +crown vo. with illustrations. s. d. each.+ the hot swamp: a romance of old albion. the buffalo runners: a tale of the red river plains. charlie to the rescue! a tale of the sea and the rockies. blown to bits; or, the lonely man of rakata. a tale of the malay archipelago. blue lights; or, hot work in the soudan. the fugitives; or, the tyrant queen of madagascar. red rooney; or, the last of the crew. the rover of the andes: a tale of adventure in south america. the young trawler: a story of life and death and rescue in the north sea. dusty diamonds, cut and polished: a tale of arab city life. the battery and the boiler; or, adventures in the laying of submarine electric cables. the giant of the north; or, pokings round the pole. the lonely island; or, the refuge of the mutineers. post haste: a tale of her majesty's mails. in the track of the troops: a tale of modern war. the settler and the savage: a tale of peace and war in south africa. under the waves; or, diving in deep waters. rivers of ice: a tale illustrative of alpine adventure and glacier action. the pirate city: an algerine tale. black ivory: a tale of adventure among the slavers of east africa. the norsemen in the west; or, america before columbus. the iron horse; or, life on the line. the floating light of the goodwin sands. erling the bold: a tale of the norse sea-kings. mr. r.m. ballantyne's books--continued. the golden dream: a tale of the diggings. deep down: a tale of the cornish mines. fighting the flames: a tale of the london fire-brigade. shifting winds: a tough yarn. the lighthouse; or, the story of a great fight between man and the sea. the lifeboat: a tale of our coast heroes. gascoyne, the sandalwood trader. the wild man of the west: a tale of the rocky mountains. the red eric; or, the whaler's last cruise. freaks on the fells: and why i did not become a sailor? * * * * * +with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. each.+ hunted and harried. a coxswain's bride; or, the rising tide. and other tales. the garret and the garden; or, low life high up: and jeff benson; or, the young coastguardsman. the crew of the water-wagtail. the middy and the moors. life in the red brigade. a fiery tale. the prairie chief. a tale. the island queen; or, dethroned by fire and water. the madman and the pirate. twice bought: a tale of the oregon gold fields. my doggie and i. the red man's revenge. philosopher jack: a tale of the southern seas. six months at the cape. battles with the sea; or, heroes of the lifeboat and the rocket. crown vo. s. d. the kitten pilgrims; or, great battles and grand victories. crown vo. s. +price s. d. each.+ tales of adventure by flood, field, and mountain. tales of adventure; or, wild work in strange places. tales of adventure on the coast. +mr. r.m. ballantyne's miscellany of entertaining and instructive tales+. +with illustrations. s. each+. _also in a handsome cloth case, price s_. the "athenæum" says:--"there is no more practical way of communicating elementary information than that which has been adopted in this series. when we see contained in small pages (as in _fast in the ice_) such information as a man of fair education should possess about icebergs, northern lights, esquimaux, musk-oxen, bears, walruses, &c., together with all the ordinary incidents of an arctic voyage woven into a clear connected narrative, we must admit that a good work has been done, and that the author deserves the gratitude of those for whom the books are especially designed, and also of young people of all classes." i. fighting the whales; or, doings and dangers on a fishing cruise. ii. away in the wilderness; or, life among the red indians and fur traders of north america. iii. fast in the ice; or, adventures in the polar regions. iv. chasing the sun; or, rambles in norway. v. sunk at sea; or, the adventures of wandering will in the pacific. vi. lost in the forest; or, wandering will's adventures in south america. mr. r.m. ballantyne's miscellany--continued. vii. over the rocky mountains; or, wandering will in the land of the red skin. viii. saved by the lifeboat; or, a tale of wreck and rescue on the coast. ix. the cannibal islands; or, captain cook's adventures in the south seas. x. hunting the lions; or, the land of the negro. xi. digging for gold; or, adventures in california. xii. up in the clouds; or, balloon voyages. xiii. the battle and the breeze; or, the fights and fancies of a british tar. xiv. the pioneers: a tale of the western wilderness. xv. the story of the rock. xvi. wrecked, but not ruined. xvii. the thorogood family. xviii. the lively poll: a tale of the north sea. +by agnes giberne+. "tales that bear miss giberne's name are 'the best of the best.' no writer excels her in this department of literature."--_fireside news_. "that the story is miss giberne's guarantees refinement and christian principle."--_churchman_. * * * * * the andersons. illustrated. extra crown vo. s. d. the dalrymples. with illustrations. third edition. crown vo. s. d. with illustrations. crown vo. "least said, soonest mended." s. d. "a simple tale, well told."--_guardian_. "to say that it is by miss giberne is at once to recommend the story highly to girls."--_quiver_. "a well written and most interesting tale."--_glasgow herald_. "a well written story. the moral is conveyed in a most interesting way, and as a mere tale it will well repay perusal."--_church review_. number three winifred place. s. d. "a delightful story, and, we need hardly add--being miss giberne's--is full of the highest and most profitable religious teaching."--_record_. "a well constructed, thoroughly healthy tale."--_aberdeen free press_. "miss giberne's book is for gentler readers. it appeals very delicately to their softer sympathies, and introduces them to one young girl at least who may serve as a model or ideal to them. it is written in a pleasing sympathetic style."--_scotsman_. "the plot of the story is as ingenious as the treatment is effective, and it is told with great skill."--_yorkshire post_. ready, aye ready! s. d. "a thoroughly good and deeply interesting story."--_newcastle chronicle_. "a charming story, which displays all this well-known writer's knowledge of girls and their habits of mind."--_scotsman_. miss con; or, all those girls. s. "constance conway is a charming heroine. her diary is an admirable collection of character sketches."_--athenæum_. agnes giberne's works--continued enid's silver bond. s. "enid's nature is essentially heroic.... the other characters are cleverly sketched."--_times_. five thousand pounds. s. "youthful readers have reason to thank miss giberne for having written this capital story."--_john bull_. st. austin's lodge; or, mr. berkeley and his nieces. s. "a very good example of the author's well-known style. it is carefully written, and is in all respects a conscientious performance."--_academy_. beryl and pearl. s. "characterised by unflagging vivacity and great dramatic power."-_christian leader_. "one of miss giberne's most delightful tales."--_record_. decima's promise. s. d. "one of the best and soundest books we have seen."--_public opinion_. "the result of a disaster, decima's distress, and the behaviour of the parents, are touchingly told, and the whole case of conscience is admirably, managed."--_guardian_. daisy of old meadow. s. "there are few boys or girls to whom this story will not prove interesting reading."--_court circular_. kathleen. s. "worthy of high praise, thoroughly good and very interesting."--_church bells_. "a fascinating tale."--_record_. old umbrellas; or, clarrie and her mother. s. "the book is bright and lively, and will be read with pleasure and profit."--_christian_. miles murchison. illustrated. small crown vo. s. d. by dr. macaulay. strange yet true. with many illustrations. extra crown vo. s. * * * * * by s.m.s. clarke (mrs. pereira). baron and squire. a story of the thirty years' war. from the german of n. noeldechen. with sixteen illustrations. extra crown vo. s. the duke's page; or, "in the days of luther." a story for boys. from the german. sixteen illustrations. extra crown vo. s. "a spirited and attractive narrative."--_literary churchman_. "a capital story for boys."--_guardian_. "this is one of the most fascinating historical tales we have ever read."--_british weekly_. "throughout incident succeeds incident, and the interest never flags until the end is reached."--_public opinion_. "a very good story.... of sterling value."--_spectator_. the trivial round; or, chapters of village life. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "a book that will interest and refresh dwellers in cities with this glimpse of a life in many respects different from their own."--_academy_. "these scenes from village life will be a source of pleasure to very many readers. the story is ably worked out and pleasantly told."--_john bull_. * * * * * by rev. j. reid howatt. the children's pew. extra crown vo. s. the children's pulpit. a year's sermons and parables for the young. extra crown vo. s. "the subjects are well selected; the style is always simple and forcible; and the lessons which the preacher desires to impress upon the mind are such as every youthful reader may appreciate. the sermons have another merit--that of brevity."--_scotsman_. "simple, suggestive, and singularly happy in illustration and treatment."--_word and work_. ^ the children's angel. a volume of sermons to children. crown vo. s. d. "fifty-three brief addresses to children. direct, as such things should be; clear, as they must always be; and interesting, as, if any good is to be done, they are bound to be--they contain a collection of truths which children ought to be taught, and the teacher is always bright and clear, which is saying a great deal."--_church bells_. "these sermonettes are eminently practical, while their homely style and freedom from cant are delightful."--_christian commonwealth_. by lady kennett-barrington. bible history for children. with a short history of christianity after the days of the apostles. with illustrations. small crown vo. s. d. "this book is eminently adapted for children's capabilities, and has the great advantage of keeping as nearly as possible to bible language. it is an excellent little book."--_christian commonwealth_. "a little work that will commend itself to all who have to do with the religious training of the young."--_church bells_. "the work is well and carefully done, the main current of the bible story being rendered with point and brevity in the very spirit of the scriptures."--_school board chronicle_. by william charles metcalfe. steady your helm; or, stowed away. with six illustrations. extra crown vo. s. aboveboard. a tale of adventure on the sea. with six illustrations. extra crown vo. s. "this is a delightfully exciting tale of the adventures of two sailor lads, with icebergs, pirates, and similar horrors of the sea. its chief defect is that it leaves off too soon, even at the end of more than pages."--_pall mall gazette._ "this story of a cruise is about as full of adventures as it can well be. there is plenty of 'go' in the narrative, and the incidents succeed each other with a very plausible probability."--_spectator_. "it is a long time since we have read anything racier, breezier, more healthful and invigorating than mr. metcalfe's fine sea story."--_methodist recorder._ frank weatherall; or, life in the merchant marine. a sea story for youth. illustrated. small crown vo. s. by mrs. saxby. tom and his crows. illustrated. crown vo. s. d. viking boys. with four illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "wholesome and manly in tone, the book is thoroughly fresh and natural." --_morning post_. "we prophesy that the tale of the viking boys and their wild deeds will become as popular as 'the lads of lunda,' and all the other stories with which mrs. saxby has delighted us."--_athenæum_. the lads of lunda. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "a perfect book for boys--generous, wholesome, manly in tone, and withal thoroughly young, fresh, and natural. we recommend the book heartily, not only to all boys, but to everybody who knows and likes brave boys."-_guardian_. "a capital book. the tales are full of fun and pathos."--_athenæum_. the yarl's yacht. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "'the yarl's yacht' is even superior in interest to its predecessor."-_standard_. "mrs. saxby knows young people as few know them, and they will in return thoroughly appreciate her. as long as she writes such genuine, refreshing, happy family stories for them, they certainly will be most fortunate."--_spectator_. "'the yarl's yacht' is a delightful sequel to the 'lads of lunda.'"--_times_. the home of a naturalist. by jessie m.e. saxby and the rev. biot edmonston. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "we would fain linger long over the scenes which this excellent volume brings up before us. the authors have put together a very refreshing set of memories."--_saturday review_. * * * * * by eva travers evered poole. lotta's life mistake. with illustrations. crown vo. s. golden links in a life chain. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "good-night" thoughts about god; or, evening readings for the young. small crown vo. s. d. * * * * * by barley dale. a tale of oughts and crosses; or, mr. holland's conquest. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. spoilt guy. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "a pretty tale, and contains excellent religious teaching."--_church, sunday-school magazine._ cissy's troubles. with illustrations. small crown vo. s. d. "a very charming story."--_yorkshire post_. "the book will be a favourite with young people, especially with our girls."--_family churchman_. little bricks. with illustrations. small crown vo. s. d. "the story is fascinating from the interest which is excited and maintained it is written with power and insight."--_courant_. by ellen l. davis. high and lowly: a story of hearts and homes. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. yoked together: a tale of three sisters. with illustrations. crown vo. s. "a quiet domestic story of deep interest-, with several striking situations, described with considerable power."--_leeds mercury_. a boy's will. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "the book is full of life and character, and would be a fitting gift alike to the sunday-school teacher and the scholar."--_british messenger_. by the rev. george everard, m.a. your sundays: fifty-two short readings. especially intended for schoolboys. crown vo. s. d. "your innings:" a book for schoolboys. sixth thousand. crown vo. s. d. edie's letter; or, talks with the little folks. to. s. d. by miss havergal. streamlets of song for the young. crown vo. s. d. morning bells. being waking thoughts for the little ones. royal mo, d.; paper cover, d. little pillows. being good night thoughts for the little ones. mo, d.; paper cover, d. morning stars; or, names of christ for his little ones. mo. d. the four happy days. mo. s. ben brightboots, and other true stories. crown vo. s. bruey. a little worker for christ. crown vo. s. d.; paper cover, s. memorials of little nony. a biography of nony heywood, who was the first collector for the bruey branch of the irish society. by her mother. with preface by miss havergal, and a portrait. crown vo. s. d. by the rev. j.b. macduff, d.d. parables of the lake; or, the seven stories of jesus by the lake of galilee. a sunday book for young readers. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. the story of a shell. a romance of the sea: with some sea teachings. a book for boys and girls. with coloured frontispiece and other illustrations. small to. s. cheaper edition, paper cover, s.; limp cloth, s. the story of bethlehem. a book for children. with illustrations by thomas. crown vo. s. d. hosannas of the children. with illustrations. crown vo. s. the woodcutter of lebanon. a story illustrative of a jewish institution. mo. s. tales of the warrior judges. fcap. vo. s. d. the cities of refuge; or, the name of jesus. a sunday book for the young. mo. s. d. fergus morton. a tale of a scottish boy. mo. d. the exiles of lucerna; or, the sufferings of the waldenses during the persecution of . crown vo. s. d. the footsteps of st. paul. being a life of the apostle designed for youth. with illustrations. crown vo. s. brighter than the sun; or, christ the light of the world. a life of our lord for the young. with illustrations by a. rowan. post to. s. d.; in paper cover, s.; limp cloth, s. willows by the watercourses; or, god's promises to the young. mo. d.; paper cover, d. by rev. j. jackson wray. old crusty's niece. crown vo. s. d. will it lift? a story of a london fog. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. jack horner the second. with illustrations. cr. vo. s; simon holmes, the carpenter if aspendale. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. the secret of the mere; or, under the surface. crown vo. s. d. garton rowley; or, leaves from the log of a master mariner. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. honest john stallibrass. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. the chronicles of capstan cabin. crown vo. s. d. matthew mellowdew. with frontispiece. crown vo. s. d. nestleton magna. crown vo. s. d. peter pengelly. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. paul meggitt's delusion. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. a man every inch of him. crown vo. s. d. _the "knapsack" series_. with frontispiece. small crown vo. s. each. . the man with the knapsack; or, the miller o burnham lee. . widow winpenny's watchword. . primrose garth. . "a song o' sixpence" for the bairns. . geoffrey hallam; or, the clerk of the parish. by mrs. barbour. the way home, and how the children reached it by a railway accident. with illustrations. eighteenth thousand. mo. s. d. limp; s. d. boards. the irish orphan in a scottish home. a sequel to "the way home." mo. s. limp; s. d. boards. the child of the kingdom. twenty-second thousand. with illustrations. mo. s. limp; s. d. boards. the soul-gatherer. seventeenth thousand. mo. s. limp; cloth gilt, s. d. * * * * * by mrs. haycraft. sunwood glory; or, through the refiner's fire. with four illustrations. crown vo. s. d. * * * * * by esm� stuart. a brave fight, and other stokies. with four illustrations. crown vo. s. d. * * * * * by edith ralph. step by step through the bible. part i. a scripture history for little children. with a preface by cunningham geikie, d.d., ll.d., and twelve illustrations. crown vo. s. d. part ii. from death of joshua to end of the old testament. a scripture history for little children. revised and recommended by cunningham geikie, d.d., ll.d. twelve illustrations. crown vo. s. d. mrs. lester's girls and their service. by the author of "miss marston's girls and their confirmation." with frontispiece. crown vo. s. d. "a good book for young servants, or for reading at a sewing-class attended by young women. its tone and teaching are all we could wish."--_record_.. "its evident truthfulness and fidelity to nature make us think that it is founded upon much experience of young girls in the working class. to such it would, no doubt, be exceedingly interesting."--_literary churchman_. miss marston's girls and their confirmation. with frontispiece. crown vo. s. * * * * * by the rev. david macewan, d.d. this year. anniversary addresses for the young. second edition. square mo. s. by the rev. james wells, m.a. bible object-lessons. addresses to children. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. bible echoes: addresses to the young. crown vo. s. d. the parables of jesus. with illustrations. crown vo. s. bible children. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. bible images. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "mr. wells has in these volumes been content to restrict himself to an endeavour to win and instruct the young. he has done this with admirable skill, with great transparency of meaning, vividness of treatment and nicety of discrimination, combined with a befitting freedom and an impressive earnestness."--_literary world_. "mr. wells contrives by a studied plainness of diction, by the simplicity and directness of his style, by his evident earnestness and kindliness, and a wealth of illustrative anecdotes, to minimise the difficulties which children have to encounter in grasping new and especially abstract ideas."--_scotsman_. by lady dunboyne. breaking of the clouds. crown vo. illustrated. s. charity. a tale. with illustrations. crown vo. s. her life's work. a tale. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "the story, which is pleasantly and touchingly told, is thoroughly suitable for a gift-book for girls of the upper classes."--_guardian_. * * * * * by the rev. j.h. wilson. the king's message. a book for the young. with illustrations. small crown vo. s. d. "the union of solid teaching and fervent appeal with a cheerful outlook on life we have seldom, if ever, seen more happily exemplified. dr. wilson's book is as winsome as it is wise, thoroughly human in its spirit and robust in its tone and teaching."--_christian leader_. "no better book than this very thoughtful, clearly and beautifully written and tastefully illustrated volume, could be put into the hands of the young."--_aberdeen free press_. the gospel and its fruits. a book for the young. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "exceedingly plain, practical, and pointed, full of striking and ingenious illustrations."--_aberdeen journal_. our father in heaven: the lord's prayer familiarly explained and illustrated for the young. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "dr. wilson graduated long since as a prophet of god who has a voice for the young. his explanation of the lord's prayer has made him a dear friend to many a parent as well as child."--_presbyterian churchman_. "dr. wilson's addresses are admirable specimens of what productions of the kind should be, pithy, pointed, and practical, and abounding in anecdotes and illustrations."--_congregational review_. by l.t. meade. a london baby: the story of king roy. with illustrations. crown vo. s. "very touching and sad, though the end is happy."--_athenæum_. the children's pilgrimage. with illustrations. small crown vo, s.; gilt edges, s. d. "displays vivid conception of character, and clear, graphic description. the story is full of incident and adventure."--_literary churchman_. * * * * * by mrs. winscom. dear old england. a description of our fatherland. dedicated to all english children. crown vo. s. d. "english children will find much that is well worth knowing, and well told, in this copiously illustrated volume."--_christian world_. * * * * * by the rev. w.w. tulloch, b.d. the story of the life of the emperor william. told for boys and girls all over the world. with frontispiece. crown vo, s. d.; with gilt edges, s. d. revised by the queen. the story of the life of the prince consort. told for boys and girls. crown vo, s. d.; with gilt edges, s. d. the story of the life of queen victoria. told for boys and girls all over the world. with two portraits. crown vo, s. d.; with gilt edges, s. d. the "chimes" series. _crown vo. numerous illustrations. s. d. each._ by mrs. marshall. . silver chimes; or, olive. . daphne's decision; or, which shall it be. . cassandra's casket. . poppies and pansies. . rex and regina; or, the song of the river. . stories of the cathedral cities of england. . dewdrops and diamonds. . heather and harebell. . the roses of ringwood. a story for children. . in the purple. the "laurel" series. _crown vo. numerous illustrations. s. d. each_. . tom and his crows. by mrs. saxby, author of "viking boys," &c. . watch and watch. by w.c. metcalfe, author of "frank weatherall." . winning his laurels; or, the boys of st. raglan's. by f.m. holmes. . that aggravating schoolgirl. by grace stebbing. . what a man soweth. by grace stebbing. . dulcibel's day dreams; or, the grand, sweet song. by mrs. marshall. . the lads of lunda. by jessie m.e. saxby. . the yarl's yacht. by jessie m.e. saxby. . a new exodus; or, the exiles of the zillerthal. a story of the protestants of the tyrol. by catherine ray. . grace murray. a story. by ella stone. . mr. orde's grandchildren. by cecilia selby lowndes. . where the dew falls in london. by sarah doudney. the "sunshine" series. _crown vo. numerous illustrations. s. each_. . the breaking of the clouds. by lady dunboyne, author of "charity," &c. &c. . through shadow to sunshine. by mrs. hornibrook. . a summer in the life of two little children. by mrs. howard. . oliver's old pictures; or, the magic circle. by mrs. marshall. . ruby and pearl; or, the children at castle aylmer. by mrs. marshall. . lady temple's grandchildren. by miss everett green. . a london baby: the story of king roy. by l.t. meade. . hidden homes; or, the children's discoveries. by m.a. paull ripley. . an unwilling witness. by miss lyster. . our neighbour, widow yates. by grace stebbing. . bible plants and animals. containing illustrations of over passages of scripture from the works of travellers and other sources. by alfred e. knight. * * * * * the "marbeck" series. _crown vo. numerous illustrations. s. d. each_ . the story of john marbeck: a windsor organist of years ago. by mrs. marshall. . my grandmother's pictures. by mrs. marshall. . the old violin; or, charity hope's own story. by edith c. kenyon. . a boy's will. by ellen l. davis. . spoilt guy. by darley dale. . high and lowly: a tale of hearts and homes. by ellen l. davis. . peter pengelly. by rev. jackson wray. . nellie graham; or, the story of a commonplace woman. by ella stone. the "sweetbriar" series. _a new series of volumes. with illustrations. extra crown vo. s. d. each._ work, wait, win. by ruth lamb. the andersons. by miss giberne, author of "the dalrymples," &c. sweetbriar; or, doings in priorsthorpe magna. by agnes giberne. coulying castle; or, a knight of the olden days. by agnes giberne. aim�e: a tale of the days of james the second. by agnes giberne. lilla thorne's voyage; or, "that far remembrancer." by grace stebbing. * * * * * the "roundabout" series. _extra crown vo. s. d. each._ the right road. a manual for parents and teachers. by j. kramer. through bible lands. notes of travel in egypt, the desert, and palestine. profusely illustrated. by philip schaff, d.d., and an essay on egyptology and the bible, by edouard naville. * * * * * bible history for the young. +"the word" series.+ by susan and anna warner, authors of "the wide, wide world," "queechy," &c. _with illustrations, plain and coloured. crown vo. s. d. each_. the aim of this series of volumes is so to set forth the bible incidents and course of history, with its train of actors, as to see them in the circumstances and colouring, the light and shade, of their actual existence. the volumes embody, as far as possible, all the known facts, natural, social, and historical, which are required for the illustration and elucidation of the bible narrative. . walks from eden: the scripture story from the creation to the death of abraham. . the house of israel: the scripture story from the birth of isaac to the death of jacob. . the kingdom of judah: the scripture story from the death of solomon to the captivity. . the broken walls of jerusalem and the rebuilding of them. in continuation of "the house of israel" and "the kingdom of judah," and completing the work. . the star out of jacob: the scripture story illustrating the earlier portion of the gospel narrative. "these five books form a most comprehensive and attractive commentary on the scriptures suited to the requirements of the young. more real knowledge in true child language, and within the understanding of children, it has never been our privilege to meet with before. we are disposed to envy those young friends who are fortunate enough to number them among their literary possessions, for although pre-eminently children's books, they are yet well able to impart instruction to children of a larger growth."--_rock_. "there is a pleasant freshness and reality conveyed to the old, well-worn stories, which will make children understand the details of eastern life and the manners and customs of the old pastoral times. 'the word' series will be a charming gift to young people."--_athenæum_. "we doubt whether any one has ever told 'the old, old story' more attractively, for children at least, than the author of 'the wide, wide world.' whatever fame she may have won by her works of fiction will be greatly increased by her success in writing these marvellous stories."--_christian world_. the golden ladder series. _with illustrations. handsomely bound in cloth, gilt edges. crown vo. s. d. each_. "children welcome with glee the volumes comprised in nisbet's 'golden ladder series,' for they are full of interest, even though they are stories with a moral, which is always a high-toned one."--_liverpool courier_. "'the golden ladder series' of story-books, so much appreciated for their excellence. they can be all safely recommended to the notice of teachers as being especially suitable as rewards, while no school library can be said to be complete without a selection from them."--_schoolmaster_. . the golden ladder: stories illustrative of the beatitudes. by susan and anna b. warner. . the wide, wide world. by susan warner. . queechy. by susan warner. . melbourne house. by susan warner. . daisy. by susan warner. . daisy in the field. by susan warner. . the old helmet. by susan warner. . nettie's mission: stories illustrative of the lord's prayer. by julia mathews. . glen luna; or, dollars and cents. by anna b. warner. . drayton hall. stories illustrative of the beatitudes. by julia mathews. . within and without: a new england story. . vinegar hill stories: illustrative of the parable of the sower. by anna b. warner. . little sunbeams. by joanna mathews. . what she could and opportunities. by susan warner. . trading and the house in town. . dare to do right. by julia mathews. the golden ladder series-continued. . holden with the cords. by the author of "within and without." . giving honour: containing "the little camp on eagle hill" and "willow brook." by susan warner. . giving service: containing "sceptres and crowns" and "the flag of truce." by susan warner. . giving trust: containing "bread and oranges" and "the rapids of niagara." by susan warner. *** _the tales in the last three volumes are illustrative of the_ lord's prayer. . wych hazel. a tale. by susan and anna warner. . the gold of chickaree. a sequel to "wych hazel." by susan and anna b. warner. . diana. by susan warner. . my desire. by susan warner. . the end of a coil. by susan warner. . the letter of credit. by susan warner. . nobody. by susan warner. . stephen, m.d. by susan warner. . a red wallflower. by susan warner. . daisy plains. by susan warner. . cross corners. by anna b. warner. . mistress matchett's mistake. by emma marshall. . yours and mine. by anna b. warner. . one little vein of dross. by mrs. ruth lamb. . oak bend; or, patience and her schooling. by anna b. warner. . a candle in the sea; or, winter at seal's head. a book about lighthouses. by rev. e.a. rand. the "golden silence" series of tales. _with illustrations. small crown vo. attractively bound in cloth. s. d. each_. golden silence; or, annals of the birkett family of crawford-under-wold. by mrs. marshall. the story of our english bible and what it cost. by mrs. bayly. stepping heavenward. by mrs. prentiss. what katy did. by susan coolidge. morag: a tale of highland life. by mrs. milne rae, author of "rinaultrie," "geordy's tryst," &c. aunt jane's hero; or, sorrow and sunshine. by mrs. prentiss. maggie and bessie, and their way to do good. by joanna h. mathews. bessie at school. by joanna h. mathews. bessie and her friends. by joanna h. mathews. bessie in the mountains. by joanna h. mathews. bessie at the seaside. by joanna h. mathews. bessie on her travels. by joanna h. mathews. the three little spades. by anna b. warner. when i was young. by mrs. marshall. the home at greylock. by mrs. prentiss. michael's treasures; or, choice silver. by mrs. marshall. cissy's troubles. by darley dale. little bricks. by darley dale. effie's friends; or, chronicles of the woods and shore. matthew frost, carrier; or, little snowdrop's mission. by mrs. marshall. my lady bountiful. by mrs. marshall. a tale of two old songs. by lady dunboyne. esther's journal. a tale of swiss pension life. by a resident. three paths in life. a tale for girls. stellafont abbey; or, "nothing new." by emma marshall. a sunbeam's influence; or, eight years after. by lady dunboyne. susy's sacrifice. kenneth forbes. the children of blackberry hollow. the safe compass, and how it points. by rev. r. newton, d.d. me. rutherford's children. theresa's journal. gran. by e.a.b.d. pat's inheritance. by mrs. marshall. in the mist. a tale. by ross porter. the other house. a tale. by mary r. higham. nature's gentleman. by mrs. marshall. the bride's home. by mrs. marshall. miles murchison. by miss giberne. house in town. by the author of "the wide, wide world." trading. by the author of "the wide, wide world." sequel to above. * * * * * _bound in paper covers. s._ aunt jane's hero. by mrs. prentiss. stepping heavenward. by mrs. prentiss. what katie did. by susan coolidge. morag. a tale of highland life. by mrs. milne rab. "dolly's charge" series. _with illustrations. small crown vo. s. each._. . dolly's charge. by miss marshall. . the little peat-cutters; or, the song of love. by mrs. marshall. . primrose; or, the bells of old effingham. by mrs. marshall. . the boy guardian. by c.e. bowen. . gentleman jim. by mrs. prentiss. . our laddie. by miss l.j. tomlinson. . violet in the shade. by mrs. marshall. . light on the lily. by mrs. marshall. . a rose without a thorn. by mrs. marshall. . alice's pupil. by miss m'clintock. . heathercliffe; or, it's no concern of mine. by mrs. marshall. . adventures of johnny pascoe. by g. norway. . miss brown's basket. by mrs. henry charles. . lotta's life mistake. by mrs. evered poole. . the princesses of penruth. by mary h. debenham. . see for yourself. by grace stebbing. . sunday occupations for children. by mrs. barclay. . parson's green. by g. norway. . helen; or, temper and its consequences. . the captain's story; or, the disobedient son. . china and its people. by a missionary's wife. . frank gordon, by f.r. goulding; and little jack, by anna warner. . to-day and yesterday. a story of summer and winter holidays. by mrs. marshall. . both sides. by jessie w. smith. . stephen gilmore's dream; or, coals of fire. by jessie w. smith. . judith the stranger. by the hon. gertrude boscawen. . the gate in park lane. by the hon. gertrude boscawen. . simple lessons from nature. by the hon. m.c. leigh. . the spoilt twins. by emily dibdin. . ben brightboots, and other true stories. havergal. . sam's mission. by beatrice marshall, author of "dolly's charge," &c. . katie: a daughter of the king. nisbet's juvenile library. _with illustrations. mo. s. d. each_. "capital books, well printed, tastefully bound, and containing a good deal of letterpress. we do not know a cheaper series at the price."--_sunday school chronicle_. lilies of the valley. herbert percy. passing clouds. warfare and work. evelyn grey. the christmas stocking. sowing in tears and reaping in joy. silver sands. the knots tom gillies tied and untied. * * * * * the select series of books suitable for presents and prizes. _with illustrations. small crown vo. s. d. each_. the mountains of the bible: their scenes and their lessons. by the rev. john macfarlane, ll.d. life: a series of illustrations of the divine wisdom in the forms, structures, and instincts of animals. by p.h. gosse, f.r.s. land and sea. by p.h. gosse, f.r.s. the romance of natural history. by p.h. gosse, f.r.s. two vols. tales from alsace; or, scenes and portraits from life in the days of the reformation. byeways in palestine. by james finn, m.r.a.s. the "pilgrim" series. popular editions of standard books. _small crown vo, numerous illustrations, s. each; with gilt edges, s. d. each_. * * * * * . bunyan's pilgrim's progress. . bunyan's holy war. . foxe's book of martyrs. . the throne of david: from the consecration of the shepherd of bethlehem to the rebellion of prince absalom. by the rev. j.h. ingraham, ll.d. . the prince of the house of david; or, three years in the holy city. by the rev. j.h. ingraham, ll.d. . the pillar of fire; or, israel in bondage. by the rev. j.h. ingraham, ll.d. . ben-hur; or, the days of the messiah. by lew wallace. . the lamplighter. by m. cumins. . uncle tom's cabin. by mrs. h. stowe. . robinson crusoe. . my desire. by susan warner. . nobody. by susan warner. . the fairchild family. by mrs. sherwood. . the swiss family robinson. . derry. a tale of the revolution. by charlotte elizabeth. . romance of natural history. by p.h. gosse. . great men: a series of lectures. by the late rev. frederic myers, m.a. . too late for the tide-mill. by rev. e.a. rand. . little women. by l.m. alcott. . drayton hall. by julia mathews. the "pilgrim" series-continued. . the end of a coil. by susan warner. . glen luna. by anna warner. . diana. by susan warner. . stephen, m.d. by susan warner. . melbourne house. by susan warner. . bible warnings. by rev. dr. newton. . the physician's daughter. . the wide, wide world. by susan warner. . daisy. by susan warner. . daisy in the field. by susan warner. . nor'ard of the dogger. by e.j. mather. . a dream of the north sea. by j. runciman. . scripture animals. by rev. dr. newton. . queechy. by susan warner. . dare to do right. by julia mathews. . nettie's mission. by julia mathews. . wandering homes and their influences. . frank weatherall. by w.c. metcalfe, author of "above board," &c. . short lives of men with a mission: charles kingsley, lord lawrence, henry m. stanley. with portraits. . expelled. by the author of "dorrincourt." . yoked together. by ellen davis. . bessie harrington's venture. by julia mathews. . opening of a chestnut burr. by e.p. roe. . st. elmo. by a.j.e. wilson. . the children's pilgrimage. by l.t. mead. . romance of natural history. second series. by p.h. gosse. london: james nisbet & co., berners street, w. select list of books devotional and practical published by james nisbet & co. * * * * * +the christian under review+. a series of works on practical christian life small crown vo. the christian's influence. by the ven. william macdonald sinclair, d.d., archdeacon of london. s. the christian's start. by the very rev. the dean of norwich. s. the moral culture of the christian. by the rev. james mccann, d.d. s. the pathway of victory. by the rev. robert b. girdlestone, m.a., hon. canon of christ church, and late principal of wycliffe hall, oxford. s. the christian's recreations. by the rev. henry sutton, m.a., vicar of holy trinity, bordesley. s. the christian's progress. by the ven. g.r. wynne, d.d., archdeacon of aghadoe. s. the christian's duties and responsibilities. by the very rev. the dean of norwich. s. the christian's aims. by the rev. alfred pearson, m.a., incumbent of st. margaret's church, brighton. s. the intellectual culture of the christian. by the rev. james mccann, d.d. s. the christian's privileges. by the rev. w.j. deane, m.a. s. the christian's inheritance. by the rev. c.a. goodhart, m.a., incumbent of st. barnabas', highfield, sheffield. s. "simple and forcible as these books are in their teaching, and brief in extent, they deserve the attention of those who direct the religious teaching of the young."--_scotsman_. "we dipped into these pages alike with pleasure and profit. the writers, each on his own theme, seem steadfastly to keep in view scriptural teaching, sound doctrine, and the trials and temptations which beset the daily life and walk of the believer."--_word and work_. "how completely they cover the field of christian needs is sufficiently indicated by their titles. they are well fitted to stimulate the piety and clear the views of those holding the doctrines of the church of england."-_liverpool mercury._ by h. bonar, d.d. god's way of peace. a book for the anxious. mo, s. d. cheap edition, paper cover, d.; cloth, d. large type edition, crown vo, s. god's way of holiness. mo, s. d. cheap edition, paper cover, d.; cloth, d. large type edition, crown vo, s. by matthew henry. exposition of the old and new testaments; with practical remarks and observations--in nine volumes. imp. vo, £ , s. _net._ in six volumes. medium vo, £ , s. d. _net_. by lady catharine long. heavenly thoughts for morning and evening hours. selections in prose and verse, with passages from scripture. with a short introduction, mo., cloth, s. d.; silk, s. d, each. by harriet e. colvile. the way she trod. a study. just published. small crown vo, s. d. "'the way she trod' is a study of the development of religious sentiment and belief in a girl's character."--_scotsman._ "she is triplice, which, being interpreted, means threefold.... her life-history, under these various phases, is ingeniously set forth."--_glasgow herald._ "an admirably written book for young women, who will be attracted by the interesting story, telling how triplice was led by a way she knew not' until she finds rest and joy in god."--_the christian_. "a good book for distribution among girls of the upper classes."--_record_. flower voices. with illustrations. demy mo, s. "a dainty little booklet, giving many sweet and useful lessons from the flowers."--_the news_. "a choice little book, in which flowers are made to typify men and women, and to whisper important lessons regarding life and duty."-_christian_. "short stories, which will both please and profit. there is life and point about them, and their association with flowers is by no means strained. we place this little book in the first class as to the quality of the writing."-_sword and trowel_. wafted seeds. with illustrations. demy mo, s. by miss marsh. the rift in the clouds. small crown vo, s. crossing the river. small crown vo, s. shining light. small crown vo, s. what might have been. a true story. crown vo, s. by rev. j. reid howatt. the children's pew. sermons to children. after hours; or, the religion of our leisure time. with appendix on how to form a library for twenty shillings. small crown vo, s. the children's pulpit. a year's sermons and parables for the young. second edition. extra crown vo, s. "it will be heartily welcomed. the subjects are well selected; the style is always simple and forcible, and the lessons which the preacher desires to impress upon the mind are such as every youthful reader may appreciate. the sermons have another merit--that of brevity. a child may read them with a good deal of pleasure, and, it need hardly be said, with much profit."--_scotsman_. "the sermonettes are simple, suggestive, and singularly happy in illustration and treatment."--_word and work_. "all these fifty-three sermons and parables are worth reading, and would seem admirable either as models for addresses to children, or for reading in the home circle."--_church bells_. "full of nature and of life, and flashing with happy illustrations. "_--christian world._ the children's angel. being a volume of sermons to children. crown vo, s. d. "brief, fresh, and often original in thought. a preacher to children will find many suggestions and ideas in these discourses."--_literary churchman_. "fifty-three brief addresses to children. direct, as such things should be; clear, as they must always be; and interesting, as, if any good is to be done, they are bound to be--they contain a collection of truths which children ought to be taught, and the teacher is always bright and clear, which is saying a great deal."--_church bells_. "one of the most beautiful and helpful books we know of for ministers and others who are called upon to address the young."--_methodist new connexion magazine._ by miss nugent. the prince in the midst. jesus our centre. mo, s. by samuel gillespie prout. never say die: a talk with old friends. mo. d.; paper cover, d. by the rev. james wells, m.a. bible object lessons. addresses to children. with illustrations. crown vo, s. d. bible echoes. addresses to the young. small crown. vo, s. d. the parables of jesus. with illustrations. small crown vo, s. bible children. studies for the young. with illustrations. small crown vo, s. d. bible images. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. by the rev. j.h. wilson, d.d. the king's message. a book for the young. with illustrations. small crown vo, s. d. the gospel and its fruits. a book for the young with illustrations. crown vo, s. d. our father in heaven: the lord's prayer familiarly explained and illustrated for the young. with illustrations. crown vo, s. d. by edith ralph. step by step through the bible. part i from the creation to the death of joshua. a scripture history for little children. with a preface by cunningham geikie, d.d., ll.d., and twelve illustrations. crown. vo, s. d. from the preface. "miss edith ralph, in this little book, shows herself exceptionally skilful in her delicate task.... the tone and spirit of her pages seem to me admirably suited to her subject--simple, tender, gentle, wise, and full of sweet christian love, they point the little ones invitingly to heaven, and lead the way.... nor is the careful and well-informed intelligence wanting which is needed to make the first steps in bible knowledge a preparation for safe and healthy progress in it hereafter." part ii. from death of joshua to end of the old testament. a scripture history for little children. revised and recommended by cunningham geikie, d.d., ll.d. twelve illustrations. crown vo, s. d. "no sweeter, wiser, or more christian story of the scriptures could be given to a little child or read to it."--_christian commonwealth._ "just the thing for sunday afternoon,"--_word and work_. by frederick a. atkins, editor of "the young man," and hon. sec. of the national anti-gambling league. moral muscle: and how to use it. a brotherly chat with young men. with an introduction by rev. thain davidson, d.d. now ready. small crown vo, s. dr. clifford writes:--"it is full of life, throbs with energy, is rich in stimulus, and bright with hope." _the methodist times_ says:--"an excellent book for young men--manly, honest, straightforward, and full of christian earnestness." first battles, and how to fight them. just published. small crown vo, s. "an excellent book for young men. the addresses are vigorous and to the point. the work would certainly help to develop in a thoughtful reader a truer manliness than generally prevails among our young men."--_irish ecclesiastical gazette_. "another of mr. atkins' capital little books for young men."--_british weekly._ how to study the bible. by dr. clifford, m.a.; professor elmslie, d.d.; r.f. horton, m.a.; rev. f.b. meyee, b.a.; rev. c.h. waller, m.a.; rev. h.c.g. moule, m.a.; rev. c.a. berry; rev. w.j. dawson. third edition. small crown vo, s. "in this little book we have the choicest counsels of men who are themselves successful students of the word. we very earnestly commend this volume. all those who desire to know how to study the scriptures with the utmost profit should secure it at once."--_christian advocate_. "young bible students will find some very valuable hints in this little volume."--_nonconformist_. "the whole of these essays are well worthy of perusal, and are as instructive as they are interesting-."--_manchester courier_. "in this small book are comprised eight practical and, we may say, delightful essays from well-known divines and authors,"--_schoolmaster_. the question of questions: "what think ye of christ?" by samuel wainwright, d.d., incumbent of st. stephen's, clapham park. crown vo, cloth, s. d. by rev. theodore cuyler, d.d. stirring the eagle's nest, and other practical discourses. just published. extra crown vo, s. "a volume of earnest and able sermons, full of life and vigour."--_literary churchman._ "in this volume dr. cuyler is at his best.... his sermons are full of practical teaching, and cannot fail to profit the reader."--_rock_. "dr. cuyler has given us here some of his best work."--_church bells_. "this is a volume of short practical sermons, characterised by the simplicity and directness which we expect from dr. cuyler."--_christian leader_. "the discourses are vigorous expositions of simple texts."--_scotsman_ how to be a pastor. recently published. crown vo, s. "it is full of strong, cheery, sensible, hard-working christianity. it ought to have a very large circulation."--_british weekly_. "twelve chapters well worthy of the study of pastors, and calculated to stimulate all who have at heart the cause of christ."--_christian_. "in this handy little volume dr. cuyler gives wise guidance, couched in graphic and telling style."--_methodist recorder_. "we lay down this book, brimful of wholesome advice, with the earnest wish that some of our wealthy laymen would place a copy of it in the hands of each of our ministers."--_christian advocate_. by the rev. alfred pearson, m.a., incumbent of st. margaret's church, brighton. christus magister: some teachings from the sermon on the mount. just published. crown vo, s. _the bishop of bedford_ says:--"old truths are felicitously expressed and beautifully illustrated. there is much that is original and suggestive in exposition." _the dean of winchester_ says:--"a delightful volume: the chapter on 'non-resistance' pleases me especially." the christian's aims. small crown vo, s. "under mr. pearson's guidance the aims of life are considered with reference to god, to ourselves, and to our fellows. self-denial, as required of every christian, is sensibly considered in the chapter on cross-bearing. "--_guardian_. "many christians would derive benefit from reading the chapters 'on glorifying god,' 'on self-mastery,' 'on self-fulfilment,' 'on cross-bearing' and 'on tone.'"--_english churchman_. by the rev. andrew murray. small crown vo, s. d. each. the new life. words of god for disciples of christ. "this book stands out among many of its kind as distinguished by a new impulse and freshness of thought."--_scotsman_. abide in christ. thoughts on the blessed life of fellowship with the son of god. sixty-third thousand. "the varied aspects of this practical truth are treated with much freshness, power, and unction. it cannot fail to stimulate, to cheer, and to qualify for higher service."--mr. spurgeon in _the sword and trowel_. like christ. thoughts on the blessed life of conformity to the son of god. a sequel to "abide in christ." twenty-eighth thousand. "the author has written with such loving unction and spiritual insight that his pages may be read with comfort and edification by all."--_literary churchman_. with christ in the school of prayer. twenty-fifth thousand. "a volume of rare excellence, and one which is much needed."--_christian news._ holy in christ. thoughts on the calling of god's children to be holy as he is holy. tenth thousand. "this is one of the best books we have seen upon a subject which is happily attracting much attention nowadays. there is so much spurious sentimentalism abroad that we are glad to meet with a book in which this sacred theme--holiness--is dealt with so robustly and scripturally."--_methodist n.c. magazine._ the spirit of christ. thoughts on the indwelling of the holy spirit in the believer and the church. eighth thousand. "mr. murray's new work, like his former ones, will serve for the edification of those who are able to appreciate spirituality of thought, and inclined to give the attention needful to digest and profit by meditations presented in a manner more solid than lively."--_record_. small crown vo, s. d. the children for christ. thoughts for christian parents on the consecration of the home life. tenth thousand. "there is a tone of fervour and devotion pervading the book that contrasts pleasantly with the trivially inane tone some writers think fit to adopt in writing for and about children. all sunday-school teachers and parents would do well to lay its lessons to heart."--_methodist recorder_. by the rev. j. hamilton, d.d. the mount of olives, and other lectures on prayer. mo, s. a morning beside the lake of galilee, mo, s. the pearl of parables. notes on the parable of the prodigal son. mo, s. the light to the path; or, what the bible has been to others, and what it can do for ourselves. mo, s. emblems from eden. mo, s. the happy home. mo. with illustrations. s. the blessed life: how to find and live it. by n.j. hofmeyr, senior professor of the theological college of the dutch reformed church, stellenbosch, cape colony. small crown vo, s. d. "the teaching is sound throughout, and expressed in vigorous language."--_christian_. "we have seldom read a book which gives such a grasp of redemption in its purpose, as in its enjoyment by the individual, in so brief and compact a manner as the one before us. the treatment is suited only to an intelligent, if not educated, christian. to such it is calculated to give an intellectual, as well as spiritual, perception of the things which accompany salvation."--_rock_. by the rev. george matheson, d.d. moments on the mount. a series of devotional meditations. second edition. crown vo, s. d. "this little volume is not one to be read through at a sitting, and then laid aside. rather each meditation is to be pondered over, and enjoyed singly and separately, and to be dwelt upon until it becomes a permanent possession. their suggestions can hardly fail to stimulate to biblical and theological research."--_scotsman_. voices of the spirit. small crown vo, s. d. "a choice little volume of devotional meditations. it is not only devout in spirit and tender in tone, but marked by freshness of thought, which volumes of this kind too often lack."--_methodist recorder_. wisdom's house and "her seven pillars." by lady beaujolois dent. small crown vo, s. d. "an excellent little work, sound in doctrine, and thoroughly practical in its application to the reader's conscience."_--record._ +by mrs. a. russell simpson.+ friends and friendship. with illustrations. demy mo, s. "twelve beautifully written chapters on friendship. very suitable to give to young people on life's threshold. fresh and charming as a sprig of heather or a morsel of thyme."--_christian treasury_. "mrs. simpson quotes many of the finest things that have ever been said or written on her subject; and some of her own remarks are quite as good, not less full of insight, expressed with equal felicity, and having in addition a searching spiritual power."--_christian leader_. building foe god; or, houses not made with hands. with illustrations. mo, s. "a beautiful little book, rich in anecdote, allusion, and illustration."-_pall mall gazette_. "mrs. simpson's prettily got-up books of devotional reading are always deservedly popular.... as usual, the writer has shown much ingenuity in the arrangement and choice of illustrations, and much fervent devotion in her meditations and comments thereon."--_record_. steps through the stream.. morning readings for a month. square mo, s. "a very sweet, quickening, stimulating volume. we trust that the work may secure an extended sale, and be of much spiritual blessing to god's believing people."--mr. spurgeon in _the sword and trowel_. beautiful upon the mountains. evening readings for a month. square mo, s. "a series of brief readings, thoroughly devotional, earnest and simple, full of true thought, and exceedingly interesting."--_guardian_. gates and doors. square mo, s. "full of anecdote and illustration. mrs. simpson's pleasant pages are well calculated to fulfil their author's design."--_churchman_. "original and stimulating in a high degree."--_liverpool post_. wells of water. a series of chapters descriptive and practical on the wells mentioned in scripture. square mo, s. "a series of short studies, meditations, and expositions on some among the many passages of scripture which refer to wells and springs. as in the preceding volumes of a similar kind from the same pen, there is here much earnest, unquestioning piety, and a felicity in illustration that many a minister may envy."--_scotsman_. +by frances ridley havergal.+ royal grace and loyal gifts. being the following seven volumes in neat cloth case, price s. my king; or, daily thoughts for the king's children. royal commandments; or, morning thoughts for the king's servants. royal bounty; or, evening thoughts for the king's guests. the royal invitation: daily thoughts on coming to christ. loyal responses; or, daily melodies for the king's minstrels. kept for the master's use. starlight through the shadows. _the volumes may be had separately, in limp cloth, s. each_. morning bells; or, waking thoughts for the little ones. mo, d.; paper cover, d. little pillows. being good night thoughts for the little ones. mo, d.; paper cover, d. treasure trove. a selection from some of miss havergal's unpublished writings. with coloured borders. mo, d. morning stars; or, names of christ for his little ones. mo, d. +by frances bevan,+ author of "three friends of god." the river of god. crown vo, s. d. +by mrs. pearsall smith,+ author of "christian's secret of a happy life." every day religion. crown vo. the christian's secret of a happy life. by h.w.s. revised edition. small crown vo, paper cover, s. d.; cloth, s.; cloth, gilt edges, s. "full of bright and cheering thoughts."--_church bells._ "a book that is capable of doing untold good in the way of promoting a more entire surrender of the soul and consecration to the will of god."-_rock_. the threefold cords of the holy scriptures. an arrangement of upwards of twelve hundred precepts, prayers, and promises, as four hundred sacred triads. by the rev. william lee, formerly minister of holy trinity church, kennington, &c. small crown vo, s. the precious promises; or, light from beyond. by the rev. cunningham geikie, d.d. crown vo, s. d. lectures on ecclesiastical history delivered in norwich cathedral. _the following have already appeared_:-- st. ignatius and st. polycarp. by f.w. farrar, d.d., f.r.s., archdeacon of westminster, chaplain to the queen and to the house of commons. the apology of aristides. by the rev. j. armitage robinson, b.d., fellow and assistant tutor of christ's college, cambridge. the life and times of justin martyr. by the rev. frederick meyrick, m.a., rector of blickling, norfolk; non-residentiary canon of lincoln. the life and times of iren�us. by the rev. prebendary stanley leathes, d.d. other lectures will be delivered by the following:--the right rev. the lord bishop of ripon, and the rev. g.a. schneider, m.a., vice-principal of ridley hall, cambridge. by the rev. g.s. bowes, b.a. conversation: why don't we do more good by it? crown vo, s. d. scripture itself the illustrator. a manual of illustrations gathered from scriptural figures, phrases, types, derivations, chronology, texts, &c. crown vo, s, d. information and illustrations for preachers and teachers. helps gathered from facts, figures, anecdotes, and books, for sermons, lectures, and addresses. crown vo, s. illustrative gatherings for preachers and teachers. a manual of anecdotes, facts, figures, proverbs, quotations, &c. vols. crown vo, s. d. each. in prospect of sunday. a collection of analyses, arguments, applications, counsels, cautions, &c. crown vo, s. nearer heaven: a help to the deepening of the spiritual life. by the rev. john baird. crown vo, s. d. +by the rev. george everard, m.a.+ in secret. a manual of private prayer. mo, s. all through the day. a precept and meditation for every day in the month. mo, s. "in the morning." a scripture prayer and a meditation for each morning in the mouth. mo, s. "in the evening." thirty-one scripture promises, with a meditation for every evening in the month. mo, s. the shield, the sword, and the battle. crown mo, s. five stones from the brook. counsel and comfort for the people of god. small crown vo, s. links of loving kindness. words of hope and consolation for the flock of christ. small crown vo, s. d. your sundays. fifty-two short readings, especially intended for schoolboys. crown vo, s. d. the bells of st. peter's, and other papers on gospel truth. mo, s. your innings. a book for schoolboys. crown vo, s. d. his steps as traced in the great biography. crown vo, s. d. the river of life; or, salvation full and free. mo, s. strong and free. a book for young men. mo, s. bright and fair. a book for young ladies. mo, s. follow the leader. counsels on the christian life. mo, s. d. day by day; or, counsels to christians on the details of every-day life. cheap edition. mo, s. d. not your own, counsels to young christians. mo, s. little foxes: and how to catch them. mo, s. my spectacles: and what i saw with them. mo, s. beneath the cross. counsels, meditations, and prayers for communicants. mo, s. safe and happy. words of help and encouragement to young women. with prayers for daily use. mo, s. by the rev. canon bell, d.d., rector of cheltenham. the saintly calling. crown vo, s. d. living truths for head and heart. crown vo, s. d. by the rev. ernest boys, m.a. the sure foundation; or, thoughts on the believer's safety. mo, s. rest unto your souls; or, the enjoyment of peace. mo, s. filled with the spirit; or, scriptural studies about the holy ghost. mo, s. the consecrated life; or, thoughts on practical religion. mo, s. consecrated recreation; or, the christian's leisure time. mo, s. my lord's money; or, the consecration of talents. mo, s. by anna warner. the melody of the twenty-third psalm. mo, d. shoes of peace. mo, s. tired christians. mo, s. the other shore. mo, s. the fourth watch. mo, d. the light of the morning. mo, d. wayfaring hymns. original and translated. mo, d. up and down the house. royal mo, s. d. nisbet's miniature christian classics. red line editions. crown mo. uniformly bound in cloth, s. each; with gilt edges, s. d.; half bound, gilt top, s. d.; paste grain, s. d. each. . bogatzky's golden treasury. . keble's christian year. . the imitation of christ (thomas a kempis). . the poems of george herbert. . bunyan's pilgrim's progress. +by the rev. j.r. macduff, d.d.+ in christo; or, the monogram of st. paul. crown vo, s. clefts of the rock; or, the believer's grounds of confidence in christ. crown vo, s. palms of elim; or, rest and refreshment in the valley. crown vo, s. noontide at sychar; or, the story of jacob's well. with frontispiece and vignette. crown vo, s. d. eventide at bethel; or, the night dream of the desert. crown vo, s. d. the grapes of eshcol; or, gleanings from the land of promise. crown vo, s. d. sunsets on the hebrew mountains. with frontispiece. post vo, s. d. the shepherd and his flock; or, the keeper of israel and the sheep of his pasture. crown vo, s. d. memories of bethany. with frontispiece. crown vo, s. d. memories of gennesaret. with frontispiece. extra crown vo, s. memories of olivet. with frontispiece. crown vo, s. d. memories of patmos; or, some of the great words and visions of the apocalypse, with frontispiece. crown vo, s. d. cast thy burden on the lord. a scripture text-book. mo, s.; paper cover, d. strength for the day. a daily book in the words of scripture for morning and evening. with an introduction. mo, s. d. voices of the good shepherd and shadows of the great rock. square mo, s. d. the gates of prayer. a book of private devotion for morning and evening. mo, s. d. the morning and night watches and faithful promiser. in one vol. mo, s. footsteps of st. paul. being a life of the apostle designed for youth. with illustrations, crown vo, s. +by the rev. prof. lewis f. stearns+, author of "evidence of christian experience." present day theology. extra crown vo, s. d. +by the rev. henry wage, d.d.+, principal of king's college, london. the authority of holy scripture, and other sermons. extra crown vo, s. d. +by the late rev. aubrey l. moore, m.a.+ a volume of sermons. * * * * * autobiography of the late rev. donald fraser, d.d., and a selection from his sermons. with a preface by j. oswald dykes, d.d. crown vo, s. d. sunrise gleams. a series of daily readings for a month. by lady hope. mo, s. sunset rays. a companion volume to "sunrise gleams." by lady hope. mo, s. daily evening rest; or, thoughts of peace about the master. by agnes giberne. mo, s. d. the voice of jesus day by day. with original hymns. by f.m. macrae. and an introduction by hugh macmillan, d.d. small crown vo, s. abba, father. helps to prayer and meditation. by the rev. c.g. baskerville, m.a. crown vo, s. d. list of books of family prayers. by the right rev. the lord bishop of ripon. churchman's book of family prayers. printed in red and black. cloth plain, pott to, s. d. cloth gilt, burnished red edges, s. by the rev. gordon calthrop, m.a. family prayers for four weeks. imperial mo, s. d. by the rev. j. oswald dykes, d.d. daily prayers for the household for a month. crown vo, s. d. by the rev. george everard, m.a., vicar of christ church, dover. before his footstool. family prayers for one month. with prayers for special occasions, and introduction. ninth thousand. crown vo, s. by the rev. c.e. kennaway, m.a. family prayers for the mornings and evenings for a fortnight; to which are added, prayers on special occasions. mo, s. d. by the rev. j.r. macduff, d.d. morning family prayers. a volume of family worship for each morning of the year. founded on selected passages of scripture from the old and new testaments. small to. s. d. *** this volume is on a plan and arrangement of its own, in order to secure, as much as may be, variety and comprehension. family prayers. small crown vo, s. d. by m.l.m. dawson. family prayers for a month. demy vo, s. d. daily prayers for busy homes. mo, d. london: james nisbet & co., berners street, w. +works by r.m. ballantyne+. * * * * * "in his tales of the sea, of the forest and the flames, and in all that he writes, there is a fidelity to nature and a knowledge of many paths of life which are not surpassed by any author in his special field of literature."--_morning post_. _with illustrations. crown vo. s. each_. new volume. +the buffalo runners+. a tale of the red river plains. +charlie to the rescue+. a tale or the sea and the rockies. "in 'charlie to the rescue' mr. ballantyne supplies his constituency --which is now a large and well-satisfied one--with a sufficiency of battles, sieges, and escapes; the troubles of ranchmen, whose lives are threatened both by white and by black scoundrels, are admirably reproduced. it is a capital story."--_spectator_. +blown to bits+; or, the lonely man of rakata. a tale of the malay archipelago. "a capital story, written in the author's old style, and full of life and action from beginning to end."--_standard_. "the book abounds in matter of exceptional interest, and should find its way into the hands of all young people who would properly estimate the wide-spreading and far-reaching influences and the extraordinary character of the krakatoa outburst."--_manchester courier_. +blue lights+; or, hot work in the soudan. a tale of soldier life in several of its phases. "an exciting story, full of excellent moral lessons."--_school board chronicle_. "we heartily recommend 'blue lights'."--_guardian_. "the soldier's career is graphically depicted, and the story is every way a good one."--_literary churchman_. _works by r.m. ballantyne-continued. with illustrations. crown vo. s. each_. the fugitives; or, the tyrant queen of madagascar. "there is plenty of adventure in the shape of imprisonment and combats with men and animals, and a negro and a sailor between them supply a comic element of the best quality. everything considered, this is one of the best stories even mr. ballantyne has published."--_academy_. red rooney; or, the last of the crew. the rover of the andes. a tale of adventure in south america. "we commend it to boys fond of adventure and of natural phenomena; a very fascinating book."--_british quarterly review._ "an admirable boy's story."--_scotsman_. the young trawler. a story of life and death and rescue in the north sea. "few men have laboured so steadfastly in their generation to provide sound wholesome fare for 'our boys' as mr. ballantyne, and the 'young trawler' is worthy of his reputation. it is not a whit less spirited than his former tales, and conveys a large amount of useful information on a highly important subject."--_academy_. dusty diamonds, cut and polished. a tale of city-arab life. _with illustrations, crown vo. s. each_. +the battery and the boiler+; or, the electrical adventures of a telegraph cable-layer. "there is not a dull page in it."--_scotsman_. "the interest never flags."--_academy_. +the giant of the north+; or, pokings round the pole. "of variety of perilous adventures and peril, ingeniously surmounted, there is no lack."--_daily news_. +the lonely island+; or, the refuge of the mutineers. "mr. ballantyne weaves the romantic episode of the mutiny of the 'bounty' into a most effective narrative."--_graphic_. +post haste+. a tale of her majesty's mails. "the book should find a place in every boy's library; it is full of interest."--_leeds mercury_. +in the track of the troops+. a tale of modern war. "mr. ballantyne has blended with the incidents of war on the danube a story of personal adventure spiritedly told."--_daily news_. +the settler and the savage+. a tale of peace and war in south africa. "a capital story of south african life. mr. ballantyne, through the medium of a thoroughly manly and healthy tale of sport and war, frolic and danger, full of stirring yet not exaggerated scenes, presents a sketch of a very important period of the early history of our colony at the cape of good hope."--_times_. _with illustrations. crown vo. s. each_. +under the waves+; or, diving in deep waters. "mr. ballantyne enlarges the already gigantic debt due to him by the young, by his 'under the waves,' a story meant to illustrate the practice and peril of diving in deep water, which it does in not only an interesting, but often in amusing manner."--_times_. +rivers of ice+. a tale illustrative of alpine adventure and glacier action. "a tale brimful of interest and stirring adventure."--_glasgow herald_. +the pirate city+. an algerine tale. "the story is told with mr. ballantyne's usual felicity, and, as it is plentifully sprinkled with horrors, no doubt it will be greatly enjoyed by some boys."--_athenæum_. +black ivory+. a tale of adventure among the slavers of east africa. "a captivating story. we heartily recommend it."--_record_. "boys will find the book about as delightful a story of adventure as any of them could possibly desire."--_scotsman_. +the norsemen in the west+; or, america before columbus. "this thoroughly delightful book is an adaptation of the saga of iceland, and also of mr. laing's 'heimskingla; or chronicles of the kings of norway,' supplemented by mr. ballantyne's own experience and adventures in the wilderness of america. these ingredients are put together with the skill and spirit of an accomplished story-teller; and the result is a book that cannot possibly be laid down till the very last word of the last line has been read."--_athenæum_. +the iron horse+; or, life on the line. a railway tale. "a captivating book for boys."--_guardian_. +erling the bold+. a tale of the norse sea kings. "a capital tale of the norse sea kings."--_times_. "the story is interesting and full of moving incidents by flood and field, and it will therefore scarcely fail to be popular among lads."--_scotsman_. "the story is clearly designed, and abounds with elements of romantic interest; and the author's illustrations are scarcely less vigorous than his text."--_athenæum_. +fighting the flames+. a tale of the london fire brigade. "many a schoolboy will find keen enjoyment in the perusal of 'fighting the flames,' and assure his little sisters with suitable emphasis that mr. ballantyne is 'a stunning good story-teller.'"--_athenæum_. +deep down+. a tale of the cornish mines. "mr. ballantyne's book will not fail to delight boys, for it is full of deeds of daring and of 'hairbreadth escapes.'"--_scotsman_. "by reading mr. ballantyne's admirable story a very large amount of knowledge concerning cornish mines may be acquired; whilst from the fact of the information being given in the form of a connected narrative, it is not likely very soon to be forgotten.... a book well worthy of being extensively read."--_mining journal._ +the floating light of the goodwin sands+. "the tale will be especially interesting to adventure-loving boys."--_record_. +shifting winds+. a tough yarn. "a hearty, vigorous, bracing story, fresh with the pure breezes, and sparkling with the bright waters of the everlasting seas.'"--_athenæum_. +the lighthouse+. being the story of a great fight between man and the sea. _extract letter from the secretary of northern lighthouses_. " ... they (the commissioners of northern lighthouses) have been so much pleased with the way in which you have combined the fiction of a tale with the popular but correct account of the building of the bell rock lighthouse, that they think it would be an interesting work to transmit to their lightkeepers, and i have therefore to request that you will direct your publishers to transmit me--copies. (signed) alexr. cunningham." "thoroughly at home in subjects of adventure, the author has made this, like all his stories for boys, smart in style, thrilling in interest, and abounding in incidents of every kind."--_quiver_. +the lifeboat+. a tale of our coast heroes. "royal national lifeboat institution. "dear sir,--i am directed by the committee to request your acceptance of the accompanying photograph of a lifeboat proceeding off to a wreck, as a small permanent acknowledgment of the important service you have rendered to the lifeboat cause by your very interesting work entitled 'the lifeboat: a tale of our coast heroes." i remain, yours faithfully, (signed) "richard lewis, _secretary_." +the golden dream+. a tale of the diggings. +the red eric+; or, the whaler's last cruise. +gascoyne, the sandalwood trader+. a tale of the pacific. "full of cleverly and impressively drawn pictures of life and character in the pacific."--_caledonian mercury_. +freaks on the fells,+ and +why i did not become a sailor.+ * * * * * +the wild man of the west.+ _with illustrations. crown vo. s. d._ +battles with the sea;+ or, heroes of the lifeboat and the rocket. _with illustrations. crown vo. s._ +the kitten pilgrims;+ or, great battles and grand victories. "we have copied the title-page of this amusing and instructive quarto for little folks. nothing further is necessary. mr. ballantyne stands at the head of all our children's story-tellers _facile princeps_."--_churchman_. _with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. each_. new volume. +a coxswain's bride+; or, the rising tide: and other tales. +the garret and the garden+; or, low life high up: and +jeff benson+; or, the young coastguardsman. +the crew of the water-wagtail+. a story of newfoundland. +the middy and the moors+. an algerine tale. +the prairie chief+. +life in the red brigade+. a fiery tale. and fort desolation; or, solitude in the wilderness. +the island queen+; or, dethroned by fire and water. a tale of the southern hemisphere. +twice bought+. a tale of the oregon gold fields. +the madman and the pirate+. +philosopher jack+. a tale of the southern seas. +the red man's revenge+. +my doggie and i+. +six months at the cape+. letters to periwinkle from south africa. a record of personal experience and adventure. * * * * * _crown vo. price s. d. each_. +tales of adventure by flood, field, and mountain+. +tales of adventure+; or, wild work in strange places. +tales of adventure on the coast+. * * * * * london: james nisbet & co., berners street, w. by the internet archive (http://www.archive.org) robert coverdale's struggle by horatio alger, jr. author of "tom temple's career," "tom thatcher's fortune," "tom turner's legacy," "the train boy," etc. a. l. burt company, publishers new york robert coverdale's struggle chapter i a fisherman's cabin "robert, have you seen anything of your uncle?" "no, aunt." "i suppose he's over at the tavern as usual," said the woman despondently. "he drinks up about all he earns, and there's little enough left for us. i hope you won't follow in his steps, robert." "you may be sure i won't, aunt jane," said the boy, nodding emphatically. "i wouldn't drink a glass of rum for a hundred dollars." "god keep you in that resolution, my dear boy! i don't want my sister's son to go to destruction as my husband is doing." my story opens in a small fishing village on the coast of one of the new england states. robert coverdale, whom i have briefly introduced, is the young hero whose fortunes i propose to record. he is a strong, well-made boy, with a frank, honest face, embrowned by exposure to the sun and wind, with bright and fearless eyes and a manly look. i am afraid his dress would not qualify him to appear to advantage in a drawing-room. he wore a calico shirt and well-patched trousers of great antiquity and stockings and cowhide shoes sadly in need of repairs. some of my well-dressed boy readers, living in cities and large towns, may be disposed to turn up their noses at this ragged boy and wonder at my taste in choosing such a hero. but robert had manly traits, and, in spite of his poor clothes, possessed energy, talent, honesty and a resolute will, and a boy so endowed cannot be considered poor, though he does not own a dollar, which was precisely robert's case. indeed, i may go further and say that never in the course of his life of fifteen years had he been able to boast the ownership of a hundred cents. john trafton, his uncle, was a fisherman. his small house, or cabin, was picturesquely situated on the summit of a cliff, at the foot of which rolled the ocean waves, and commanded a fine sea view. that was perhaps its only recommendation, for it was not only small, but furnished in the plainest and scantiest style. the entire furniture of the house would not have brought twenty-five dollars at auction, yet for twenty-five years it had been the home of john and jane trafton and for twelve years of their nephew, robert. my readers will naturally ask if the fisherman had no children of his own. there was a son who, if living, would be twenty-three years old, but years before he had left home, and whether ben trafton was living or dead, who could tell? nothing had been heard of him for five years. mrs. trafton's affections had only robert for their object, and to her sister's son she was warmly attached--nearly as much so as if he had been her own son. her husband's love of drink had gradually alienated her from him, and she leaned upon robert, who was always ready to serve her with boyish devotion and to protect her, if need be, from the threats of her husband, made surly by drink. many days she would have gone to bed supperless but for robert. he would push out to sea in his uncle's boat, catch a supply of fish, selling a part if he could or trade a portion for groceries. indeed he did more for the support of the family than john trafton did himself. "it's about time for supper, robert," said his aunt; "but i've only got a little boiled fish to offer you." "fish is good for the brains. aunt jane," said robert, smiling. "well, i suppose it's no use waiting for your uncle. if he's at the tavern, he will stay there until he is full of liquor and then he will reel home. come in and sit down to the table." robert entered the cabin and sat down at a side table. his aunt brought him a plate of boiled fish and a potato. "i found just one potato in the cupboard, robert," she said. "then eat it yourself, aunt. don't give it to me." "no, robert; i've got a little toast for myself. there was a slice of bread too dry to eat as it was, so i toasted it and soaked it in hot water. that suits me better than the potato." "haven't you any tea, aunt--for yourself, i mean?" robert added quickly. "i don't care for it, but i know you do." "i wish i had some. tea always goes to the right spot," said mrs. trafton; "but i couldn't find a single leaf." "what a pity!" said robert regretfully. "yes," sighed mrs. trafton; "we have to do without almost everything. it might be so different if mr. trafton wouldn't drink." "did he always drink?" "he's drank, more or less, for ten years, but the habit seems to have grown upon him. till five years ago two-thirds of his earnings came to me to spend for the house, but now i don't average a dollar a week." "it's too bad, aunt jane!" said robert energetically. "so it is, but it does no good to say so. it won't mend matters." "i wish i was a man." "i am glad you are not, robert." "why are you glad that i am a boy?" asked robert in surprise. "because when you are a man you won't stay here. you will go out into the world to better yourself, and i shan't blame you. then i shall be left alone with your uncle, and heaven only knows how i shall get along. i shall starve very likely." robert pushed back his chair from the table and looked straight at his aunt. "do you think. aunt jane," he demanded indignantly, "that i will desert you and leave you to shift for yourself?" "i said, robert, that i shouldn't blame you if you did. there isn't much to stay here for." "i am sorry you have such a poor opinion of me, aunt jane," said the boy gravely. "i am not quite so selfish as all that. i certainly should like to go out into the world, but i won't go unless i can leave you comfortable." "i should miss you, robert, i can't tell how much, but i don't want to tie you down here when you can do better. there isn't much for me to live for--i'm an old woman already--but better times may be in store for you." "you are not an old woman, aunt jane. you are not more than fifty." "i am just fifty, robert, but i feel sometimes as if i were seventy." "do you know, aunt jane, i sometimes think that brighter days are coming to both of us? sometimes, when i sit out there on the cliff and look out to sea, i almost fancy i can see a ship coming in laden with good things for us." mrs. trafton smiled faintly. "i have waited a long time for my ship to come in, robert," she said. "i've waited year after year, but it hasn't come yet." "it may come for all that." "you are young and hopeful. yours may come in some day, but i don't think mine ever will." "have you anything for me to do, aunt?" "not at present, robert." "then i'll study a little." there was an unpainted wooden shelf which robert had made himself and on it were half a dozen books--his sole library. from this shelf he took down a tattered arithmetic and a slate and pencil, and, going out of doors, flung himself down on the cliff and opened the arithmetic well toward the end. "i'll try this sum in cube root," he said to himself. "i got it wrong the last time i tried." he worked for fifteen minutes and a smile of triumph lit up his face. "it comes right," he said. "i think i understand cube root pretty well now. it was a good idea working by myself. when i left school i had only got through fractions. that's seventy-five pages back and i understand all that i have tried since. i won't be satisfied till i have gone to the end of the very last page." here his aunt came to the door of the cabin and called "robert." "all right, aunt; i'm coming." the boy rose to his feet and answered the summons. chapter ii robert and mrs. jones "are you willing to go to the village for me, robert?" asked his aunt. "to be sure i am, aunt," answered the boy promptly. "i hope you don't doubt it?" "i thought you might be tired, as you were out all the forenoon in the boat." "that's sport, aunt jane. that doesn't tire me." "it would if you were not very strong for a boy." "yes, i am pretty strong," said robert complacently, extending his muscular arms. "i can row the boat when the tide is very strong. what errand have you got for me to the village, aunt?" "i have been doing a little sewing for mrs. jones." "you mean the landlord's wife?" questioned robert. "yes; i don't feel very friendly toward her husband, for it's he that sells strong drink to my husband and keeps his earnings from me, but i couldn't refuse work from her when she offered it to me." mrs. trafton spoke half apologetically, for it had cost her a pang to work for her enemy's family, but robert took a practical view of the matter. "her money is as good as anybody's," he said. "i don't see why you shouldn't take it. she has enough of our money." "that's true, robert," said his aunt, her doubts removed by her young nephew's logic. "is the bundle ready. aunt jane?" "here it is, robert," and the fisherman's wife handed him a small parcel, wrapped in a fragment of newspaper. "how much is she to pay for the work?" "i hardly know what to ask. i guess twenty-five cents will be about right." "very well, aunt jane. any other errands?" "if you get the money, robert, you may stop at the store and buy a quarter of a pound of their cheapest tea. i am afraid it's extravagant in me to buy tea when there's so little coming in, but it cheers me up when i get low-spirited and helps me to bear what i have to bear." "of course you must have some tea, aunt jane," said robert quickly. "nobody can charge you with extravagance. anything more?" "you may stop at the baker's and buy a loaf of bread. then to-morrow--please god--we'll have a good breakfast." "all right, aunt!" and robert began to walk rapidly toward the village, about a mile inland. poor woman! her idea of a good breakfast was a cup of tea, without milk or sugar, and bread, without butter. it had not always been so, but her husband's intemperance had changed her ideas and made her accept thankfully what once she would have disdained. it must be said of robert that, though he had the hearty appetite of a growing boy, he never increased his aunt's sorrow by complaining of their meager fare, but always preserved a cheerful demeanor in the midst of their privations. i have said that the settlement, which was known as cook's harbor, was a fishing village, but this is not wholly correct. a mile inland was a village of fair size, which included the houses of several summer residents from the city, and these were more or less pretentious. several comfortable houses belonged to sea captains who had retired from active duties and anchored in the village where they first saw the light. the cabins of the fishermen were nearer the sea, and of these there were some twenty, but they were not grouped together. i have said that the main village was a mile away. here was the tavern, the grocery store and the shops of the tailor and shoemaker. here was centered the social life of cook's harbor. here, unfortunately, the steps of john trafton too often tended, for he always brought up at the tavern and seldom came home with a cent in his pocket. robert was no laggard, and it did not take him long to reach the village. just in the center stood the tavern, a rambling building of two stories, with an l, which had been added within a few years. during the summer there were generally boarders from the city, who considered that the invigorating sea air, with its healthful influences, counterbalanced the rather primitive accommodations and homely fare with which they must perforce be content. by hook or crook nahum jones--or nick jones as he was called--had managed to accumulate a snug competence, but much of it was gained by his profit on liquor. he was a thrifty man, whose thrift extended to meanness, and his wife was thoroughly selfish. they had but one child--a daughter--who bade fair to be an old maid. though robert had made no objection to carry the work to the tavern, he didn't enjoy his visit in anticipation. he disliked both mr. and mrs. jones, but felt that this must not interfere with his aunt's business. he went round to a side door and knocked. the door was opened by the daughter--selina jones. "well, robert," she said abruptly, "what's wanted?" "is your mother at home?" "i suppose she is." "can i see her?" "i don't know--i guess she's busy. won't i do as well?" "i would rather see your mother." upon this selina summoned her mother, not thinking it necessary to invite our hero into the house. "oh, i see!" said mrs. jones as she glanced at the bundle in robert's hand. "you've brought back the work i gave your aunt." "yes, ma'am." "let me look at it." she took the bundle, opened it and ran her eye rapidly over it. "it'll do," she said. "might have been better done, but it'll answer." she was about to close the door, as if her business with robert was at an end, but this did not suit our hero. "it will be twenty-five cents," he said in a business-like tone. "were you afraid i would forget to pay you?" asked mrs. jones rather sourly. "no, ma'am, but i supposed you would like to know how much it would be." "very well; now i know." if robert had been easily abashed he would have dropped the matter there and suffered her to take her time about paying, but he knew that his aunt's intended purchasing must be made with ready money and he persisted. "i would like the money now," he said, "for i am going to the store to buy something." "it seems to me you are in a great hurry," said mrs. jones unpleasantly. "so would you be, mrs. jones," said robert bluntly, "if you were as poor as my aunt." "folks needn't be poor if they are smart," said the landlord's wife. "i suppose you know where my uncle's money goes?" said robert pointedly. mrs. jones did know, and, though she had not much of a conscience, she felt the thrust and it made her uncomfortable and therefore angry. but it also gave her an idea. "wait a minute," she said and left robert standing in the doorway. when she returned, which was in a short time, her thin lips were wreathed with satisfaction. "you can tell your aunt there won't be any money coming to her," she said. "why not?" demanded robert in great surprise. "mr. jones tells me that your uncle is indebted to him, and he will credit him with twenty-five cents on account." "what does my uncle owe him for?" demanded the boy with flashing eyes. "for drink, i suppose," said mrs. jones rather reluctantly. "for drink!" repeated our hero. "are you not satisfied with taking all my uncle's earnings, but you must get my aunt to work her fingers to the bone and then keep back her money in payment for your rum?" "upon my word, robert coverdale," said mrs. jones sharply, "you are very impudent! how dare you speak to me in that way?" "how dare you treat my aunt so meanly?" retorted robert with righteous indignation. "i won't stand your impudence--so there! your aunt needn't expect any more sewing to do," said the angry landlady. "she wouldn't take any more of your work if that is the way you mean to pay her." "i won't stand here talking with you. i'll get mr. jones to give you a horsewhipping--see if i don't!" "he'd better not try it," said robert with flashing eyes. the door was slammed in his face, and, angry and disappointed, he walked slowly out of the tavern yard. chapter iii the wind brought good luck john trafton was sitting out on the porch of the tavern when his nephew came out of the side gate. "there's your nephew, trafton," said old ben brandon, who, like john trafton, frequented the barroom too much for his good. "hasn't come here for his dram, has he?" added the old man, chuckling. john trafton's curiosity was excited, for he had no idea of any errand that could bring robert to the tavern. a suspicion crossed his mind, the very thought of which kindled his indignation. his wife might have sent to request mr. jones not to sell him any more liquor. he did not think she would dare to do it, but she might. at any rate he determined to find out. he hastily left the porch and followed robert. presently the boy heard his uncle call him and he turned round. "what's wanted, uncle?" he inquired. "where have you been, robert?" "i called to see mrs. jones." "what did you want of mrs. jones?" "it was an errand for aunt jane." "will you answer my question?" said trafton angrily. "what business has your aunt got with mrs. jones?" he still thought that his wife had sent a message to mr. jones through the wife of the latter. "she had been doing a little sewing for mrs. jones and asked me to carry the work back." "oh, that's it, is it?" said john trafton, relieved. "and how much did the work come to?" "twenty-five cents." "you may give me the money, robert," said the fisherman. "you might lose it, you know." could robert be blamed for regarding his uncle with contempt? his intention evidently was to appropriate his wife's scanty earnings to his own use, spending them, of course, for drink. certainly a man must be debased who will stoop to anything so mean, and robert felt deeply ashamed of the man he was forced to call uncle. "i can't give you the money, uncle," said robert coldly. "can't, hey? what do you mean by that, i want to know?" demanded the fisherman suspiciously. "my aunt wanted me to buy a little tea and a loaf of bread with the money." "what if she did? can't i buy them just as well as you? hand over that money, robert coverdale, or it will be the worse for you." "i have no money to hand you." "why haven't you? you haven't had a chance to spend it yet. you needn't lie about it or i will give you a flogging!" "i never lie," said robert proudly. "i told you i haven't got the money and i haven't." "then what have you done with it--lost it, eh?" "i have done nothing with it. mrs. jones wouldn't pay me." "and why wouldn't she pay you?" "because she said that you were owing her husband money for drink and she would credit it on your account." as robert said this he looked his uncle full in the eye and his uncle flushed a little with transient shame. "so aunt must go without her tea and bread," continued robert. john trafton had the grace to be ashamed and said: "i'll fix this with jones. you can go to the store and get the tea and tell sands to charge it to me." "he won't do it," said robert. "he's refused more than once." "if he won't that isn't my fault. i've done all i could." trafton turned back and resumed his seat on the porch, where he remained till about ten o'clock. it was his usual evening resort, for he did not think it necessary to go home until it was time to go to bed. though robert had no money to spend, he kept on his way slowly toward the village store. he felt mortified and angry. "poor aunt jane!" he said to himself. "it's a shame that she should have to go without her tea. she hasn't much to cheer her up. mrs. jones is about the meanest woman i ever saw, and i hope aunt jane won't do any more work for her." it occurred to robert to follow his uncle's direction and ask for credit at the store. but he knew very well that there would be little prospect of paying the debt, and, though a boy, he had strict notions on the subject of debt and could not bring his mind, even for his aunt's sake, to buy what he could not pay for. when we are sad and discouraged relief often comes in some unexpected form and from an unexpected quarter. so it happened now to our young hero. walking before him was an elderly gentleman who had on his head a panama straw hat with a broad brim. he was a boston merchant who was spending a part of the season at cook's harbor. as his custom was, he was indulging in an evening walk after supper. there was a brisk east wind blowing, which suddenly increased in force, and, being no respecter of persons, whisked off mr. lawrence tudor's expensive panama and whirled it away. mr. tudor looked after his hat in dismay. he was an elderly gentleman, of ample proportions, who was accustomed to walk at a slow, dignified pace and who would have found it physically uncomfortable to run, even if he could be brought to think it comported with his personal dignity. "bless my soul, how annoying!" exclaimed the merchant. he looked about him helplessly, as if to consider what course it would be best to pursue under the circumstances, and as he looked he was relieved to see a boy in energetic pursuit of the lost hat. this boy was robert, who grasped the situation at once, and, being fleet of foot, thought it very good fun to have a race with the wind. he had a good chase, for the wind in this case proved to be no mean competitor, but at last he succeeded and put his hand on the hat, which he carried in triumph to its owner. "really, my boy, i am exceedingly indebted to you," said mr. tudor, made happy by the recovery of his hat. "you are quite welcome, sir," said robert politely. "you had a good run after it," said mr. tudor. "yes, sir; the wind is very strong." "i don't know what i should have done without you. i am afraid i couldn't have overtaken it myself." "i am afraid not," said robert, smiling at the thought of a man of the merchant's figure engaging in a race for a hat. "i could run when i was a boy like you," said mr. tudor pleasantly, "but there's rather too much of me now. do you live in the village?" "out on the cliff, sir. my uncle is a fisherman." "and do you ever fish?" "sometimes--a little, sir." "but you don't expect to be a fisherman when you grow up?" "not if i can find anything better." "a bright-looking lad like you ought to find something better. please accept this." he drew from his vest pocket a two-dollar bill, which he placed in robert's hand. "what!" exclaimed our young hero in astonishment. "all this for saving your hat? it is quite too much, sir." mr. tudor smiled. "you will no doubt be surprised," he said, "when i tell you that my hat cost me fifty dollars. it is a very fine panama." "fifty dollars!" ejaculated robert. he had not supposed it worth two. "so you see it is worth something to save it, and i should undoubtedly have lost it but for you." "i am very much obliged to you, sir," said robert. "i wouldn't accept the money if it were for myself, but it will be very acceptable to my aunt." "i suppose your uncle does not find fishing very remunerative?" "it isn't that, sir; but he spends nearly all of his money at the tavern, and----" "i understand, my boy. it is a very great pity. i, too, had an uncle who was intemperate, and i can understand your position. what is your name?" "robert coverdale." "there is my business card. if you ever come to boston, come and see me." robert took the card, from which he learned that his new acquaintance was lawrence tudor. chapter iv robert's purchases when robert parted from mr. tudor he felt as if he had unexpectedly fallen heir to a fortune. two dollars is not a very large sum, but to robert, nurtured amid privation, it assumed large proportions. he began at once to consider what he could do with it, and it is to his credit that he thought rather of his aunt than himself. he would buy a whole pound of tea, he decided, and a pound of sugar to make it more palatable. this would last a considerable time and take less than half his money. as to the disposal of the remainder, he would consider how to expend that. in a long, low building, with brooms, brushes and a variety of nondescript articles displayed in the windows and outside, abner sands kept the village store. it was a dark, gloomy place, crowded with articles for family use. the proprietor enjoyed a monopoly of the village trade, and, in spite of occasional bad debts, did a snug business and was able every year to make an addition to his store of savings in the county savings bank. he was a cautious man, and, by being well acquainted with the circumstances and habits of every man in the village, knew whom to trust and to whom to refuse credit. john trafton belonged to the latter class. mr. sands knew, as everybody else knew, that all his money was invested in liquor and that the chance of paying a bill for articles needful for the household was very small indeed. when, therefore, robert entered the store he took it for granted that he meant to ask credit, and he was all ready for a refusal. "what do you charge for your tea, mr. sands?" the boy asked. "different prices, according to quality," answered the storekeeper, not thinking it necessary to go into details. "how much is the cheapest?" "fifty cents a pound." "do you call it a pretty good article?" continued our hero. "very fair; i use it in my own family," answered abner, looking over his spectacles at his young customer. "i guess i'll take a pound," said robert with the air of one who had plenty of money. "a pound?" ejaculated abner sands in surprise. "yes, sir." a pound of tea for one in john trafton's circumstances seemed to mr. sands an extraordinary order. considering that it was probably to be charged, it seemed to the cautious trader an impudent attempt to impose upon him, and he looked sternly at our young hero. "we don't trust," he said coldly. "i haven't asked you to trust me, mr. sands," said robert independently. "you don't mean to say you're ready to pay for it cash down, do you?" asked abner, his countenance expressing amazement. "yes, i do." "show me the money." "i'll show you the money when i get my tea," said robert, provoked at mr. sands' resolute incredulity. "i've told you i will pay you before i leave the store. if you don't want to sell your goods, say so!" "come, come! there ain't no use in gettin' angry," said the trader in a conciliatory tone. "your trade's as good as anybody's if you've got money to pay for the goods." "i've already told you i have, mr. sands." "all right, robert. you shall have the tea." he weighed out the tea and then asked: "is there anything more?" "yes, sir. how do you sell your sugar?" "brown sugar--eight cents." "i guess that will do. i will take a pound of brown sugar." "your folks don't generally buy sugar. i didn't know you used it." "we are going to use a pound," said robert, who did not fancy the trader's interference. "well, i'd jest as soon sell you a pound as anybody as long as you've got the money to pay for it." robert said nothing, although this remark was made in an interrogative tone, as if mr. sands still doubted whether our hero would be able to pay for his purchases. there was nothing to do, therefore, but to weigh out the sugar. the two bundles lay on the counter, but mr. sands watched them as a cat watches a mouse, with a vague apprehension that our hero might seize them and carry them off without payment. but robert was better prepared than he supposed. from his vest pocket he drew the two-dollar bill, and, passing it across the counter, he said: "you may take your pay out of this." abner sands took the bill and stared at it as if some mystery attached to it. he scrutinized it carefully through his spectacles, as if there was a possibility that it might be bad, but it had an unmistakably genuine look. "it seems to be good," he remarked cautiously. "of course it's good!" said robert. "you don't take me for a counterfeiter, do you, mr. sands?" "it's a good deal of money for you to have, robert. where did you get it?" "why do you ask that question?" asked our hero, provoked. "i was a leetle surprised at your having so much money--that's all. did your uncle give it to you?" "i don't see what that is to you, mr. sands. if you don't want to sell your tea and sugar, you can keep them." if there had been another grocery store in the village robert would have gone thither, but it has already been said that abner sands had the monopoly of the village trade. "you're kind of touchy this evenin', robert," said abner placidly, for he was so given to interesting himself in the affairs of his neighbors that he did not realize that his curiosity was displayed in an impertinent manner. "of course i want to sell all i can. you've got considerable money comin' back to you. don't you want to buy something else?" "i guess not to-night." "as long as you've got the cash to pay, i'm perfectly ready to sell you goods. lemme see. fifty-eight from two dollars leaves a dollar'n thirty-two cents." "forty-two," corrected robert. "i declare, so it does! you are a good hand at subtraction." robert felt that he could not truthfully return the compliment and prudently remained silent. "there is your money," continued the trader, putting in robert's hand a dollar bill and forty-two cents in change. "your uncle must have been quite lucky." he looked questioningly at our hero, but robert did not choose to gratify his curiosity. "is it so very lucky to make two dollars?" he asked, and with these words he left the store. "that's a cur'us boy!" soliloquized mr. sands, looking after him. "i can't get nothin' out of him. looks as if john trafton must have turned over a new leaf to give him so much money to buy groceries. i hope he has. it's better that i should get his money than the tavern keeper." mr. sands did not have to wait long before his curiosity was partially gratified, for the very man of whom he was thinking just then entered the store. "has my nephew been here?" he inquired. "just went out." "i thought you might be willing to let him have what little he wanted on credit. i'll see that it's paid for." "why, he paid for the goods himself--fifty-eight cents." _"what!"_ exclaimed the fisherman, astonished. "he bought a pound of tea, at fifty cents, and a pound of sugar, at eight cents, and paid for 'em." "where'd he get the money?" asked trafton. "i am sure i don't know. i supposed you gave it to him. he's got more left. he paid for the articles with a two-dollar bill and he's got a dollar and forty-two cents left!" "the young hypocrite!" ejaculated john trafton indignantly. "all the while he had this money he was worryin' me for a quarter to buy some tea and a loaf of bread." "looks rather mysterious--doesn't it?" said the grocer. "mr. sands," said the fisherman, "i've took care of that boy ever since he was three year old, and that's the way he treats me. he's a young viper!" "jes so!" said mr. sands, who was a politic man and seldom contradicted his neighbors. "the rest of that money belongs to me by rights," continued the fisherman, "and he's got to give it to me. how much did you say it was?" "a dollar and forty-two cents, john; but, seems to me, you'd better let him keep it to buy groceries with." "i must have the money!" muttered trafton, not heeding this advice, which was good, though selfish. "i guess i'll go home and make the boy give it to me!" and he staggered out of the store, and, as well as he could, steered for home. chapter v "give me that money" from the village store robert went to the baker's and bought a loaf of bread for six cents, making his entire expenditures sixty-four cents. he was now ready to go home. he walked rapidly and soon reached the humble cabin, where he found his aunt waiting for him. she looked with surprise at the three bundles he brought in and asked: "what have you got there, robert?" "first of all, here is a pound of tea," said the boy, laying it down on the kitchen table. "here is a pound of sugar and here is a loaf of bread." "but i didn't order all those, robert," said his aunt. "i know you didn't," answered her nephew, "but i thought you'd be able to make use of them." "no doubt i shall, but surely you did not buy them all for twenty-five cents?" "i should say not. why, the tea alone cost fifty cents! then the sugar came to eight cents and the loaf cost six cents." "mrs. jones didn't pay you enough to buy all those, did she?" "mrs. jones is about as mean a woman as you can find anywhere," robert said warmly. "she didn't pay me a cent." "why? didn't she like the work?" "she said uncle owed her husband money for drink and the work would part pay up the debt." but for the presence of the groceries, this would have had a discouraging effect upon mrs. trafton, but her mind was diverted by her curiosity, and she said apprehensively: "i hope you didn't buy on credit, robert? i never can pay so much money!" "mr. sands isn't the man to sell on credit. aunt jane. no, i paid cash. and the best of it is," continued our hero, "i have some money left." here he produced and spread on the table before his aunt's astonished eyes the balance of the money. mrs. trafton was startled. the possession of so much money seemed to her incomprehensible. "i hope you came by the money honestly, robert?" "what have i ever done, aunt jane, that you should think me a thief?" asked robert, half amused, half annoyed. "nothing, my dear boy; but i can't understand how you came to have so much money." "i see i must explain, aunt. a strong wind blew it to me." "then somebody must have lost it. you shouldn't have spent it till you had tried to find the owner." "i'll explain to you." and he told her the story of the lost hat and the liberal reward he obtained for chasing and recovering it. "think of a straw hat costing fifty dollars, aunt!" he said wonderingly. "it does seem strange, but i am glad it was worth so much or you wouldn't have been so well paid." "this mr. tudor is a gentleman, aunt. why, plenty of people would have given me only ten cents. i would have thought myself well paid if he had even given me that, but i couldn't have brought you home so much tea. aunt jane, do me a favor." "what is it, robert?" "make yourself a good strong cup of tea tonight. you'll feel ever so much better, and there's plenty of it. a pound will last a long time, won't it?" "oh, yes, a good while. i shall get a good deal of comfort out of that tea. but i don't know about making any to-night. if you would like some----" "if you'll make some, i'll drink a little, aunt jane." robert said this because he feared otherwise his aunt would not make any till the next morning. "very well, robert." "don't let uncle know i've brought so much money home," said robert with a sudden thought. "why not?" "because i don't want him to know i have any money. if he knew, he would want me to give it to him." "i don't think he would claim it. it was given to you." "i'll tell you why i am sure he would." and robert told how his uncle demanded the scanty pittance which he supposed mrs. jones had paid for the sewing. mrs. trafton blushed with shame for her husband's meanness. "drink changes a man's nature completely," she said. "the time was when john would have scorned such a thing." "that time has gone by, aunt. for fear he will find out that i have the money, i believe i will go and hide it somewhere." "shall i take care of it for you, robert?" asked mrs. trafton. "no, aunt jane; he would find it out, and i don't want to get you into any trouble. i know of a good place to put it--a place where he will never find it. i will put it there till we need to use it." "you must buy something for yourself with it. the money is yours." robert shook his head decidedly. "i don't need anything--that is, i don't need anything but what i can do without. we will keep it to buy bread and tea and anything else that we need. now, aunt, while you are steeping the tea, i will go out and dispose of the money." here it is necessary to explain that though john trafton started for home when he heard from mr. sands about robert's unexpected wealth, he changed his mind as he passed the tavern. he thought he must have one more drink. he entered and preferred his request. "trafton," said the landlord, "don't you think you've had enough?" "not quite. i want one more glass and then i'll go home." "but you are owing me several dollars. clear off that score and then you may have as much as you will." "i'll pay you a dollar on account to-morrow." "do you mean it?" "yes. bob's got some money of mine--over a dollar. i'll get it to-night and bring it round tomorrow." "of course, trafton, if you'll keep your credit good, i won't mind trusting you. well, what shall it be?" john trafton gave his order and sat down again in the barroom. he felt so comfortable that he easily persuaded himself that there was no hurry about collecting the money in his nephew's hands. robert was at home by this time and would have no way of spending the balance of his cash. "it's all right," said the fisherman; "i'll wait till ten o'clock and then i'll go home." meanwhile robert went out on the cliff and looked about him. he looked down upon the waves as they rolled in on the beach and he enjoyed the sight, familiar as it was, for he had a love of the grand and beautiful in nature. "i think if i were a rich man," thought the poor fisherman's boy, "i would like to build a fine house on the cliff, with an observatory right here, where i could always see the ocean. it's something to live here, if i do have to live in a poor cabin. but i must consider where i will hide my money." at his feet was a small tin box, which had been thrown away by somebody, and it struck robert that this would make a good depository for his money. fortunately the cover of the box was attached to it. he took the money from his vest pocket and dropped it into the box. then he covered it, and, finding a good place, he scooped out the dirt and carefully deposited the box in the hole. he carefully covered it up, replacing the dirt, and took particular notice of the spot, so that there would be no difficulty in finding it again whenever he had occasion. having attended to this duty, he retraced his steps to the cabin and found that the tea had been steeped and the table was covered with a neat cloth and two cups and saucers were set upon it. "tea's all ready, robert," said his aunt cheerfully. "the smell of it does me good. it's better than all the liquor in the world!" robert did not like tea as well as his aunt, but still he relished the warm drink, for the night was cool, and more than ever he rejoiced to see how much his aunt enjoyed what had latterly been rather a rare luxury. about nine o'clock robert went to bed and very soon fell asleep. he had not been asleep long before he was conscious of being rudely shaken. opening his eyes, he saw his uncle with inflamed face and thickened utterance. "what's wanted, uncle?" he asked. "where's that money, you young rascal? give me the dollar and forty-two cents you're hiding from me!" chapter vi man against boy as robert, scarcely awake, looked into the threatening face of his uncle he felt that the crisis had come and that all his firmness and manliness were demanded. our hero was not disposed to rebel against just authority. he recognized that his uncle, poor as his guardianship was, had some claim to his obedience. in any ordinary matter he would have unhesitatingly obeyed him. but, in the present instance, he felt that his aunt's comfort depended, in a measure, upon his retention of the small amount of money which he was fortunate enough to possess. of course he had thought of all this before he went to sleep, and he had decided, in case his uncle heard of his good luck, to keep the money at all hazards. for a minute he remained silent, meeting calmly the angry and impatient glance of his uncle. "give me that money, i tell you!" demanded the fisherman with thickened utterance. "i haven't got any money of yours, uncle john," said robert, now forced to say something. "you lie, boy! you've got a dollar and forty-two cents." "i haven't got as much as that, but i have nearly as much." "have you been spending any more money?" "i bought a loaf of bread for six cents." "then you've got a dollar and thirty-six cents left." "yes, i have." "give it to me!" "you want to spend it for rum, i suppose, uncle." "curse your impudence! what difference does it make to you what i do with it?" robert rose to a sitting posture, and, carried away by just indignation, he said: "i mean to keep that money and spend it for my aunt. there ought to be no need of it. you ought to support her yourself and supply her with all she needs; but, instead of that, you selfishly spend all your money on drink and leave her to get along the best way she can!" "you young rascal!" exclaimed his uncle, half ashamed and wholly angry. "is that the way you repay me for keeping you out of the poorhouse?" "i can support myself, uncle john, and for the last two years i've done it and helped aunt jane besides. there isn't any danger of my going to the poorhouse. i would leave cook's harbor tomorrow if i thought aunt jane were sure of a comfortable support, but i am afraid you would let her starve." robert had never spoken so plainly before and his uncle was almost struck dumb by the boy's bold words. he knew they were deserved, but he was angry nevertheless and he was as firm as ever in his determination to have the money. "boy," he said, "you are too young to lecture a grown man like me. i know what's best to do. where did you get the money?" he demanded with sudden curiosity. "did you find it in any of my pockets?" "there wouldn't be much use in searching your pockets for money. you never leave any behind." "where did you get it then?" "mr. tudor, who boards at the hotel, gave it to me." "that's a likely story." "he gave it to me because i ran after his hat, which was blown off by the wind, and brought it back to him. it was a very expensive hat, so he said." "i know; it is a panama hat." "that's what he called it." "did you have that money when i saw you coming out of the tavern yard?" "no." "when you got it, why didn't you come and bring it to me?" "because it was my own money. you had no right to claim it," said robert firmly. "he is right, john," said mrs. trafton, who had listened uneasily to the conversation, but had not yet seen an opportunity to put in a word in robert's favor. "shut up, old woman!" said the fisherman roughly. "well," said he, turning to robert, "i've heard what you've got to say and it don't make a bit of difference. i must have the money." "i refuse to give it to you," robert said, pale but firm. "then," said john trafton with a curse, "i'll take it." he snatched robert's pants from the chair on which they were lying and thrust his hand into one pocket after the other, but he found nothing. he next searched the vest in the same manner, but the search was equally unavailing. "you needn't search, for i haven't got the money," said robert. "then where is it?" "it is safe." "did he give it to you, jane?" demanded the fisherman, turning to his wife. "no." "do you know where it is?" "no." "boy, where is that money?" demanded trafton, his face flushed. "go and get it directly!" "i can't. it isn't in the house." "where is it then?" "i hid it." "where did you hide it?" "i dug a hole and put it in." "what made you do that?" "because i was afraid you would get hold of it." "you were right enough there," said john trafton grimly, "for i will get hold of it. get right up and find it and bring it to me." here mrs. trafton again interposed. "how can you ask such a thing, john?" she said. "the night is as dark as a pocket. how do you expect robert is going to find the money in the dark?" though john trafton was a good deal under the influence of liquor, he was not wholly deaf to reason and he saw the force of his wife's remark. in fact, he had himself found sorry trouble in getting home from the tavern, familiar as the path was to him, on account of the intense darkness. "well, i guess it'll do to-morrow morning," he said. "i must have it then, for i've promised to pay jones a dollar on account. i said i would, and i've got to keep my promise. do you hear that, you young rascal?" "yes, i hear it." "then mind you don't forget it. that's all i've got to say." and the fisherman staggered into the adjoining room, and, without taking the trouble of removing his garments, threw himself on the bed and in five minutes was breathing loud in a drunken stupor. mrs. trafton did not immediately go to bed. she was troubled in mind, for she foresaw that there was only a truce and not a cessation of hostilities. in the morning her husband would renew his demand upon robert, and, should the latter continue to refuse to comply, she was afraid there would be violence. when her husband's heavy breathing showed that he was insensible to anything that was said, she began. "i don't know but you'd better give up that money to your uncle," she said. "how can you advise me to do that, aunt?" asked robert in surprise. "because i'm afraid you'll make him angry if you refuse." "i can't help it if he is angry," answered robert. "he has no right to be. don't you know what he said--that he wanted to pay a dollar to the tavern keeper?" "yes." "mr. jones shall never get a cent of that money," said robert firmly. "but, robert," said his aunt nervously, "your uncle may beat you." "then i'll keep my distance from him." "i would rather he would have the money than that you should get hurt, robert." "aunt jane, i am going to take the risk of that. though he is my uncle and your husband, there's one thing i can't help saying: it is a contemptibly mean thing not only to use all his own earnings for drink, but to try to get hold of what little i get for the same purpose." "i don't deny it, robert. i don't pretend to defend my husband. once he was different, but drink has changed his whole nature. i never had any reason to complain before he took to drink." "no doubt of it, aunt, but that don't alter present circumstances. i have no respect for my uncle when he acts as he has to-night. come what may, there's one thing i am determined upon--he shan't have the money." "you'll be prudent, robert, for my sake?" entreated mrs. trafton. "yes, i'll be prudent. to-morrow morning i will get up early and be out of the way till after uncle is gone. there is no chance of his getting up early and going a-fishing." the deep and noisy breathing made it probable that the fisherman would awaken at a late hour, as both robert and his aunt knew. she was reassured by his promise and prepared to go to bed. soon all three inmates of the little cabin were sleeping soundly. chapter vii the next morning robert rose at six the next morning and half an hour later took his breakfast. it consisted of fish, bread and a cup of tea, and though most of my young readers might not be satisfied with it--especially as there was no butter--robert thought himself lucky to be so well provided for. when his breakfast was finished he rose from the table. "now i'm off, aunt jane," he said. "where are you going, robert?" "i'll earn some money if i can. we've got a little, but it won't last long." "it won't be very easy to find work, i am afraid." "i shall be ready for anything that turns up, aunt. something turned up yesterday when i didn't expect it." "that's true." just then the fisherman was heard to stir in the adjoining room, and robert, not wishing to be near when he awakened, hastily left the cabin to avoid a repetition of the scene of the previous night. mrs. trafton breathed a sigh of relief when her nephew was fairly out of the way. about an hour later her husband rose and without needing to dress--for he had thrown himself on the bed in his ordinary clothes--walked into the room where his wife was at work. "where's robert?" he asked. "he had his breakfast and went out." "how long ago?" "about an hour ago." john trafton scowled with disappointment. "is he round about home?" "i don't think he is." "did he say where he was going?" "he said he would try to find a job." "why didn't you keep him? didn't you know i wanted to see him?" "you didn't ask me to keep him," said mrs. trafton nervously. "i see how it is," said the fisherman; "you're in league with him." "what do you mean by that, john?" "you know well enough what i mean. you don't want him to give me that money." mrs. trafton plucked up courage enough to say: "you ought not to ask for it, john." "why shouldn't i ask for it?" he demanded, pounding forcibly on the table. "because he means to spend it for things we need and you want it to spend at the tavern." "there you are again--always twitting me because, after exposing myself to storm and the dangers of the sea, i take a little something to warm me up and make me comfortable." to hear john trafton's tone one might think him a grievously injured man. "for two years, john trafton, you have spent three-fourths of your earnings at the tavern," said his wife quietly. "you have left me to suffer want and privation that you might indulge your appetite for drink." "you seem to be alive still," he said with an ugly sneer. "you don't seem to have starved." "i might have done so but for robert. he has brought me fish and bought groceries with what little money he could earn in various ways." "oh, it's robert always!" sneered trafton. "he is an angel, is he? he's only done his duty. haven't i given him the shelter of my roof?" "you haven't given him much else," retorted his wife. "i've heard enough of that; now shut up," said the fisherman roughly. "what have you got for breakfast?" mrs. trafton pointed to the table, on which, while her husband had been speaking, she had placed his breakfast. "humph!" said he discontentedly, "that's a pretty poor breakfast!" "it is the best i can give you," said his wife coldly. "i don't care for tea. i'd as soon drink slops." "what do you prefer?" "i prefer coffee." "i have none in the house. if you will bring me home some from the store, i will make you a cup every morning, but i don't think you would like it without milk." "do you think i am made of money? how do you expect me to buy coffee?" "with the money you would otherwise spend for drink." "stop that, will you?" said trafton angrily. "i'm tired of it." a moment later he said in a milder tone: "when i get that money of robert's i will buy a pound of coffee." mrs. trafton said nothing. "do you know where he has hidden it?" asked her husband after drinking a cup of the tea which he had so decried. "no." "didn't he tell you where he was going to put it?" "no." "you are sure he didn't give it to you to keep?" "i am very glad he didn't." "why are you glad?" "because you would have teased me till you got it." "and i'll have it yet, mrs. trafton--do you hear that?" said the fisherman fiercely. "yes, i hear you." "you may as well make up your mind that i am in earnest. what! am i to be defied by a weak woman and a half-grown boy? you don't know me, mrs. t." "i do know you only too well, mr. trafton. it was an unlucky day when i married you." "humph! there may be two sides to that story. well, i'm going." "where are you going? shall you go out in the boat this morning?" "oh, you expect me to spend all my time working for my support, do you? no, i am not going out in the boat. i am going to the village." "to the tavern, i suppose?" "and suppose i am going to the tavern," repeated the fisherman in a defiant tone, "have you got anything to say against it?" "i have a great deal to say, but it won't do any good." "that's where you are right." john trafton left the cabin, but he did not immediately take the road to the village. first of all he thought he would look round a little and see if he could not discover the hiding place of the little sum which his nephew had concealed. he walked about the cabin in various directions, examining carefully to see if anywhere the ground had been disturbed. in one or two places he thought he detected signs of disturbance, and, bending over, scooped up the loose dirt, but, fortunately for our hero, he was on a false scent and discovered nothing. he was not a very patient man, and the fresh disappointment--for his hopes had been raised in each case--made him still more angry. "the young rascal!" he muttered. "he deserves to be flogged for giving me so much trouble." from the window of the cabin mrs. trafton saw what her husband was about and she was very much afraid he would succeed. she could not help--painful as it was--regarding with contempt a man who would stoop to such pitiful means to obtain money to gratify his diseased appetite. "if i thought my wife knew where this money is i'd have it out of her," muttered the fisherman with a dark look at the cabin, "but likely the boy didn't tell her. i'll have to have some dealings with him shortly. he shall learn that he cannot defy me." john trafton, giving up the search, took his way to the village, and, as a matter of course, started directly for the tavern. he entered the barroom and called for a drink. mr. jones did not show his usual alacrity in waiting upon him. "trafton," said he, "where is that dollar you promised to pay me this morning?" "haven't got it," answered the fisherman, rather embarrassed. "i'll bring it to-morrow morning." "then to-morrow morning you may call for a drink." "you ain't going back on me, mr. jones?" asked john trafton in alarm. "you are going back on me, as i look at it. you promised to bring me a dollar and you haven't done it." "i'll tell you how it is, mr. jones. my nephew, robert, has the money, but he was gone when i woke up this morning. i shall see him to-night and give you the money." "you needn't wait till then. i saw robert pass here only half an hour ago. he's somewhere in the village. find him and get the money and then i'll talk with you." there was no appeal from this decision and trafton, angry and sullen, left the tavern to look for robert. chapter viii robert becomes a prisoner one of the most tasteful houses in cook's harbor was occupied in summer by the family of theodore irving, a boston lawyer, who liked to have his wife and children in the country, though his business required him to spend a part of the hot season in the city. the oldest son, herbert, was about a year younger than robert, a lively boy, fond of manly sports and thoroughly democratic in his tastes. he had scraped acquaintance with our hero, making the first advances, for robert was not disposed to intrude his company where he was not sure it would be acceptable. when robert came to the village to avoid meeting his uncle. in passing by the house of mr. irving he attracted the attention of herbert, who was sitting on the edge of the piazza. with him was another boy of about his own age, a cousin named george randolph. he had come to cook's harbor to spend a fortnight with his cousin, but the latter soon found that george was very hard to entertain. he was seldom willing to engage in any amusement selected by his cousin, but always had some plan of his own to propose. moreover, he was proud of his social position and always looked down upon boys whose dress indicated a humbler rank than his own. the two cousins were sitting on the piazza doing nothing. herbert had proposed croquet, but george pronounced it too warm. he also declined ball for a similar reason. "it seems to me you are very much afraid of the sun," said herbert. "i don't care to get tanned up. it looks vulgar," said george. "i like to have a good time, even if i do get browned up," said his cousin. "then i don't agree with you," said george in a superior tone. just then robert was seen approaching. "there's a boy that will play with me," said herbert, brightening up. "what boy?" "there--the one that is just coming along." "that boy? why, he isn't dressed as well as our coachman's son!" "i can't help that; he's a nice fellow. bob, come here; i want you." "you surely are not going to invite that common boy into the yard?" protested george hastily. "why not? he has been here more than once." by this time robert had reached the gate. herbert jumped up and ran to open it. "i am glad to see you, robert," said herbert cordially. "are you in a hurry?" "no, herbert." "then come in and have a game of croquet." "all right, but you'll easily beat me." "never mind; you'll learn fast. bob, this is my cousin, george randolph. george, this is my friend, robert coverdale." george made the slightest possible inclination of the head and did not stir from where he was sitting. "he doesn't look very social," thought robert, greeting his friend's visitor politely. "here, bob, select a mallet and ball. shall i start first?" "if you please. won't your cousin play?" "i'm very much obliged, i'm sure, for the invitation," said george, "but i'd rather not." "george is afraid of being tanned by exposure to the sun," explained herbert. "i hope you are not." "i don't think the sun will make me any browner than i am already," said robert, laughing. "i agree with you," said george in a sneering tone. robert looked at him quickly, struck by his tone, and decided that he had no particular desire to become any better acquainted. the game of croquet proceeded and herbert was an easy victor. "i told you i should be beaten, herbert," said robert. "of course; i am much more used to the game than you. i will give you odds of half the game. you shall start from the other stake on the return course and i will try to overtake you." he came near succeeding, but robert beat him by two wickets. after three games herbert proposed ball, and robert, who felt more at home in this game, agreed to it. "you'd better join us, george," said his cousin. "no, i thank you. i have no inclination, i assure you." "i don't see what fun there can be in sitting on the piazza." "you forget that i have an opportunity of witnessing your friend's superior playing." his tone made it clear to robert that this was a sneer, but he had too much self-respect and too much regard for herbert to take offense at it. "you mean my awkwardness," he said. "you are quite welcome to the amusement it must afford you." george arched his brows in surprise. "really this ragged boy is talking to me as if he considered me his equal," he thought. "it is herbert's fault. he should not treat him so familiarly. i really don't care to be in such company." "you must excuse me, herbert," said george, rising with suitable dignity. "as you are provided with company, you can spare me. i will go into the house and read for a while." "very well, george." "i hope i haven't driven your cousin away, herbert," said robert. "i don't care whether you have or not, bob," said herbert, "i'm awfully disappointed in him. papa invited him to visit us, thinking he would be company for me, but, instead of that, he objects to everything i propose. i find it very hard to entertain him." "he doesn't appear to fancy me," said robert. "don't mind him, bob. he's a mean, stuck-up fellow, if he is my cousin." "perhaps he is not to blame. i am only a poor boy, belonging to a fisherman's family. i am afraid i am not a suitable associate for you or him," said robert with proud humility. "no more of that talk, bob," said herbert. "you're suitable for me, anyhow, and i like you twice as much as my cousin. i don't care how you are dressed, as long as you are a good fellow." "at any rate, you are a good fellow, herbert," said robert warmly. "i liked you the very first day i saw you." "and i can say the same for you. bob. well, never mind about george. leave him to his book. we'll amuse ourselves better." as robert was playing he caught sight of his uncle on his way to the tavern. he knew, therefore, that he could return home without danger of annoyance, and he excused himself to herbert. as it was doubtful whether he could get anything to do in the village and as the boat would not be in use, he concluded to go out and see if he could not catch a few fish for his aunt's dinner. "well, come and play with me again very soon, bob," said his friend. "i will, herbert. thank you for inviting me." "oh, i do that on my own account! i like your company." "thank you!" robert went home and spent a short time with his aunt before setting out on his fishing trip. he only meant to go out a short distance and there was plenty of time before noon. he was just getting out the boat when, to his dismay, he heard a familiar but unwelcome voice hailing him. "where are you going?" "i am going a-fishing. i thought you were not going to use the boat." "well, i am," said the fisherman shortly. "are you ready to give me that money?" "no, uncle," said robert firmly. "i have a right to it." "you don't need it and aunt does," answered our hero. "well, never mind about that now. you can go out with me." considerably surprised at getting off so easily, robert jumped into the boat with his uncle and they pushed off. "pull for egg island," said john trafton. egg island, so called from its oval shape, was situated about three miles from the cliff on which the fisherman's cabin stood and probably did not comprise more than an acre of surface. it was rocky, partly covered with bushes and quite unoccupied. robert was puzzled, but did not venture to ask his uncle why they were going to this island. in due time they reached the rocky isle and the boat was rounded to shore. "you may jump out and get me a good-sized stick," said the fisherman. robert obeyed, though he feared the stick was to be used on his back. he had scarcely scrambled up the bank than he heard the sound of oars, and, looking back hastily, he saw his uncle pushing off from the island. "i'm going to leave you here, you young rascal, till you agree to give me that money," said john trafton triumphantly. "i'll let you know that i won't be defied by a boy." already the boat was several rods distant. robert sat down on a rocky ledge and tried to realize his position. he was a prisoner on egg island and there he must stay till his uncle chose to release him. chapter ix alone on an island of course our hero's position was not to be compared with that of one left on a lonely island in the pacific, but it was not agreeable. he was only three miles from the mainland, but there was no chance to cross this brief distance. he had no boat, and though he could swim a little, he would inevitably have been drowned had he undertaken to swim to shore. robert had read "robinson crusoe," and he naturally thought of that famous mariner on finding himself in a similar position. he had never been on egg island before and he knew it only as he had seen it from the mainland or from a boat. "that's a mean trick of uncle john," said robert to himself. "if i had suspected what he was after i wouldn't have got out of the boat." just then he saw the boat turn, the fisherman pulling for the island. robert felt relieved. he was not to be left on the island after all. he sat still and waited for the boat to approach. "well, how do you like it?" asked trafton when he was within a few rods. "not very well," answered our hero. "you wouldn't care to stay here, i suppose?" "no." "i will take you back into the boat if you will promise to give me that money." it was a tempting proposal, and robert was half inclined to yield. but, he reflected, his uncle had no claim to the money, and, if he secured it, would spend it for drink, while his aunt would lose the benefit of it. he summoned all his courage and answered: "you have no right to the money, uncle. i can't give it to you." "if you don't, i will row away and leave you." "then you will be doing a very mean thing," said robert with spirit. "that's my lookout. just understand that i am in earnest. now, what do you say?" "i say no," answered our hero firmly. "then you may take the consequences," said his uncle, with a muttered curse, as he turned the head of the boat and rowed rapidly away. robert watched the receding boat, and for an instant he regretted his determination. but it was only for an instant. "i have done what i thought to be right," he said, "and i don't believe i shall have cause to repent it. i must see what is best to be done." he got up and set about exploring his small island kingdom. it was very rocky, the only vegetation being some scant grass and some whortleberry bushes. luckily it was the height of the berry season and there was a good supply on the bushes. "i shan't starve just yet," he said cheerfully. "these berries will keep me alive for a day or two, if i am compelled to remain as long." there was this advantage about the berries, that, in a measure, they satisfied his thirst as well as his hunger. robert did not immediately begin to gather berries, for it was yet early, and too short a time had elapsed since breakfast for him to have gained an appetite. he wandered at random over his small kingdom and from the highest portion looked out to sea. far away he saw several sails, but there was little chance of being rescued by any. if he were seen, it would not be supposed that he was confined a prisoner on an island so near the mainland. still robert did not feel that he was likely to be a prisoner for a long time. there were other fishermen, besides his uncle, at cook's harbor, and by next morning, at the farthest, he would be able to attract the attention of some one of them as he cruised near the island. but it would not be very pleasant to pass a night alone in such an exposed spot. not long before a sloop had been wrecked upon the southwest corner of the island, and though no lives were lost, the vessel itself had been so injured that there had been no attempt to repair or remove it. in coasting near the island robert had often thought he would like to examine the wreck, but he never had done so. it struck him now that he had a capital opportunity to view it at his leisure. of leisure, unfortunately, he had too much on his hands. there was a patch of sand at the corner where the sloop had run ashore and the frame of the vessel had imbedded in it. a portion had been swept away, but a considerable part still remained. robert clambered down and began to make an examination of the stranded vessel. "i suppose it belongs to me if i choose to claim it," he said to himself. "at any rate, no one else is likely to dispute my claim. wouldn't it be jolly if i could find a keg of gold pieces hidden somewhere about the old wreck? that would keep aunt and me for years and we wouldn't feel any anxiety about support." this was very pleasant to think about certainly, but kegs of gold pieces are not often carried on sloops nowadays, as robert very well knew. the chief use the old wreck was likely to be to him was in affording materials for a raft by which he might find his way to the mainland. our hero made a critical survey of the wreck and tried to pull it apart. this was not easy, but finally he was enabled to detach a few planks. "if i only had a saw, a hammer and some nails," he thought, "i could build a raft without much difficulty. but i don't see how i am going to get along without these." for the hammer he soon found a substitute in a hard rock of moderate size. there were nails, but they were not easy to extricate from the planks. as to a saw, there was no hope of getting one or anything that would answer the purpose of one. robert worked hard for a couple of hours and in that time he had accomplished something. he had extricated half a dozen planks of unequal length, secured a supply of nails, more or less rusty, and thus had already provided the materials of a raft. the grand difficulty remained--to fashion them into a raft which would convey him in safety to the shore of the mainland. i have said that he had no saw. he had a jackknife, however, and this was of some use to him, particularly in extricating the nails. it was slow work, but he had all day before him. when the two hours were over he began to feel hungry. it was not far from the time when he was accustomed to take dinner, and he set about satisfying his hunger. he went from bush to bush, plucking the ripe berries and eating them. they were very good, but not quite so hearty as a plate of meat and potatoes. however, he would have had no meat if he had been able to sit down at home. after dinner--if his repast of berries can be dignified by such a name--robert sat down to rest a while before resuming his labors on the raft. he finally lay down with his head in the shadow of an unusually large bush, and, before he was fully aware of the danger, he had fallen asleep. when he awoke he saw by the position of the sun that it must be about the middle of the afternoon. he jumped up hastily, and, first of all, took a hasty glance around to see if he could anywhere descry a boat. but none was to be seen. "i must set about making my raft," he decided. "it is getting late and i don't know how long it may take me." it proved to be slow and rather difficult work. robert was pounding away with his stone hammer when, to his great joy, he descried a boat rounding the corner of the island. it was rowed by a single boy. when he came near robert recognized him as george randolph--the cousin of his friend herbert. it happened that george was very fond of rowing and had a boat of his own, which he rowed a good deal in boston harbor. he had long had an ambition to row to egg island and had selected this day for the trip. he had not asked herbert to accompany him, being desirous of saying that he had accomplished the entire trip alone. though george had not seemed very friendly, robert did not for a moment doubt that he would be willing to help him in his strait, and he was almost as delighted to see him as he would have been to see herbert himself. there would be no need now of the raft, and he gladly suspended work upon it. rising to his feet, he called out: "hello, there!" george paused in his rowing and asked--for he had not yet caught sight of robert: "who calls?" "i--robert coverdale!" then george, turning his glance in the right direction, caught sight of the boy he had tried to snub in the morning. chapter x robert completes the raft "what do you want of me?" asked george superciliously. "will you come to shore and take me into your boat?" asked robert eagerly. "why should i? you have no claims on me," said george. "indeed, i don't know you." "i was at mr. irving's this morning, playing croquet with herbert." "i am aware of that, but that is no reason why i should take you into my boat. i prefer to be alone." if robert had not been in such a strait he would not have pressed the request, but he was not sure when there would be another chance to leave the island, and he persisted. "you don't understand how i am situated," he said. "i wouldn't ask such a favor if i were not obliged to, but i have no other way of getting back. if you don't take me in, i shall probably be obliged to stay here all night." "how did you come here?" asked george, his curiosity aroused. "i came in a boat with my uncle." "then you can go back with him." "he has gone back already. he is offended with me because i won't do something which he has no right to ask, and he has left me here purposely." "isn't your uncle a fisherman?" "yes." "i don't care to associate with a fisherman's boy," said george. robert had never before met a boy so disagreeable as george, and his face flushed with anger and mortified pride. "i don't think you are any better than herbert," he said, "and he is willing to associate with me, though i am a fisherman's boy." "i don't think much of his taste, and so i told him," said george. "my father is richer than mr. irving," he added proudly. "do you refuse to take me in your boat then?" asked robert. "i certainly do." "although i may be compelled to stay here all night?" "that's nothing to me." robert was silent a moment. he didn't like to have any quarrel with herbert's cousin, but he was a boy of spirit, and he could not let george leave without giving vent to his feeling. "george randolph," he broke out, "i don't care whether your father is worth a million; it doesn't make you a gentleman. you are a mean, contemptible fellow!" "how dare you talk to me in that way, you young fisherman?" gasped george in astonishment and wrath. "because i think it will do you good to hear the truth," said robert hotly. "you are the meanest fellow i ever met, and if i were herbert irving i'd pack you back to the city by the first train." "you impudent rascal!" exclaimed george. "i've a good mind to come on shore and give you a flogging!" "i wish you'd try it," said robert significantly. "you might find yourself no match for a fisherman's boy." "i suppose you'd like to get me on shore so that you might run off with my boat?" sneered george. "i wouldn't leave you on the island, at any rate, if i did secure the boat," said robert. "well, i won't gratify you," returned george, "i don't care to have my boat soiled by such a passenger." "you'll get paid for your meanness some time, george randolph." "i've taken too much notice of you already, you low fisherman," said george. "i hope you'll have a good time staying here all night." he began to row away, and as his boat receded robert saw departing with it the best chance he had yet had of escape from his irksome captivity. "i didn't suppose any boy could be so contemptibly mean," he reflected as his glance followed the boat, which gradually grew smaller and smaller as it drew near the mainland. "i don't think i'm fond of quarreling, but i wish i could get hold of that boy for five minutes." robert's indignation was natural, but it was ineffective. he might breathe out threats, but while he was a prisoner his aristocratic foe was riding quickly over the waves. "he rows well," thought our hero, willing to do george justice in that respect. "i didn't think a city boy could row so well. i don't believe i could row any better myself, though i've been used to a boat ever since i was six years old." but it would not do to spend all the afternoon in watching george and his boat or he would lose all chance of getting away himself before nightfall. with a sigh he resumed work on the raft which he had hoped he could afford to dispense with and finally got it so far completed that he thought he might trust himself on it. robert was a little solicitous about the strength of his raft. it must be admitted that, though he had done the best he could, it was rather a rickety concern. if the nails had been all whole and new and he had had a good hammer and strong boards he could easily have made a satisfactory raft. but the materials at his command were by no means of the best. the nails were nearly all rusty, some were snapped off in the middle and his stone did not work with the precision of a regular hammer. "if it will only hold together till i can get to shore," he thought, "i won't care if it goes to pieces the next minute. it seems a little shaky, though. i must try to find a few more nails. it may increase the strength of it." there was an end of a beam projecting from the sand, just at his feet. robert expected that probably he might by unearthing it find somewhere about it a few nails, and he accordingly commenced operations. if he had had a shovel or a spade, he could have worked to better advantage, but as it was he was forced to content himself with a large shell which he picked up near the shore. soon he had excavated a considerable amount of sand and brought to the surface a considerable part of the buried beam. it was at this point that he felt the shell strike something hard. "i suppose it is a stone," thought robert. and he continued his work with the object of getting it out of the way. it was not long before the object was exposed to view. what was robert's surprise and excitement to find it an ivory portemonnaie, very much soiled and discolored by sea water! now, i suppose no one can find a purse or pocketbook without feeling his pulse a little quickened, especially where, as in robert's case, money is so much needed. he immediately opened the portemonnaie, and to his great delight found that it contained several gold pieces. as my readers will feel curious to know the extent of his good luck, i will state definitely the amount of his discovery. there were two gold ten-dollar pieces, two of five, one two-dollar-and-a-half piece and fifty cents in silver. in all there were thirty-three dollars in gold and silver. robert's delight may be imagined. if he had felt in luck the day before, when he had been paid two dollars, how much more was he elated by a sum which to him seemed almost a fortune! "i am glad george didn't take me on board his boat," he reflected. "if he had, i should never have found this money. now, i don't care if i do stay here all night. uncle had little idea what service he was doing me when he left me alone on egg island." though robert expressed his willingness to spend the night on egg island, he soon became eager to get home so that he could exhibit to his aunt the evidence of his extraordinary luck. he anticipated the joy of the poor woman as she saw assured to her for weeks to come a degree of comfort to which for a long time she had been unaccustomed. robert examined his raft once more and resolved to proceed to make it ready for service. it took longer than he anticipated, and it was nearly two hours later before he ventured to launch it. he used a board for a paddle, and on his frail craft he embarked, with a bold heart, for the mainland. chapter xi a friend goes to the rescue leaving robert for a time, we will accompany george randolph on his homeward trip. george did not at all enjoy the plain speaking he had heard from robert. the more he thought of it the more his pride was outraged and the more deeply he was incensed. "the low-lived fellow!" he exclaimed as he was rowing home. "i never heard of such impudence before. he actually seemed to think that i would take as a passenger a common fisherman's boy. i haven't sunk as low as that." george was brought up to have a high opinion of himself and his position. he really thought that he was made of a different sort of clay than the poor boys with whom he was brought in contact, and his foolish parents encouraged him in this foolish belief. probably he would have been very much shocked if it had become known that his own grandfather was an honest mechanic, who was compelled to live in a very humble way. george chose to forget this or to keep it out of sight, as it might have embarrassed him when he was making his high social pretensions. falsely trained as he had been, and with a strong tendency to selfishness, george had no difficulty in persuading himself that he had done exactly right in rebuking the forwardness of his humble acquaintance. "he isn't fit to associate with a gentleman," he said to himself. "what business is it of mine that he has to stay on the island all night? if his uncle left him there, i dare say he deserved it." george did not immediately land when he reached the beach, but floated here and there at will, enjoying the delightful sea breeze which set in from seaward. at length, however, he became tired and landed. the boat did not belong to him, but was hired of a fisherman living near by, who had an extra boat. the owner of the boat was on hand when george landed. he was, though a fisherman, a man of good, sound common sense, who read a good deal in his leisure moments and was therefore well informed. like many other new england men of low position, he was superior to his humble station and was capable of acquitting himself creditably in a much higher sphere. it is from persons of his class that our prominent men are often recruited. it may be mentioned here that, though george's father, as he liked to boast, was a rich man, the boy himself was very mean in money matters and seldom willing to pay a fair price for anything. he was not above driving a close bargain, and to save five cents would dispute for half an hour. "so you've got back young man?" said ben bence, the fisherman. "did you have a pleasant trip?" "quite fair," answered george in a patronizing tone. "i rowed over to egg island and back." "that's doing very well for a city boy," said the fisherman. "i should think it was good for any boy or man either," said george, annoyed at this depreciation of his great achievement. bence laughed. "why," said he, "i'm out for four or five hours sometimes. i don't think anything of rowing from fifteen to twenty miles, while you have rowed only six." "i don't expect to row as far as a man," said george, rather taken down. "the best rower round here among the boys is bob coverdaie," said the fisherman. "what can he do?" asked george with a sneer. "he can row ten miles without feeling it," said bence. "does he say so?" asked george in a meaning tone. "no, but i have seen him do it. he's been out with me more than once. he's a muscular boy, bob is. do you know him?" "i have seen him," answered george distantly. "he's a great chum of your cousin, herbert irving," said bence, "and so i thought you might have met him." this subject was not to george's taste, and he proceeded to change it. "well, my good man," he said patronizingly, "how much do i owe you?" "so i am your good man?" repeated ben bence with an amused smile. "i am much obliged to you, i am sure. well, you were gone about two hours, i reckon." "i don't think it was quite as much as that," said george. "i guess twenty-five cents will about pay me." "twenty-five cents!" repeated george, all his meanness asserting itself. "i think that is a very high price!" "did you expect to get the boat for nothing?" asked the fisherman, surprised. "of course not. i wouldn't be beholden to a fisherman," george said haughtily. "indeed! how much did you calculate to pay?" "i think twenty cents is enough." "then the only difference between us is five cents?" "yes." "then you can pay me twenty cents. i can live without the extra five cents." george, pleased at gaining his point, put two ten-cent pieces in the hands of the owner of the boat, saying: "i don't care about the five cents, of course, but i don't like to pay too much." "i understand, master randolph," said the fisherman with a quizzical smile. "in your position, of course, you need to be economical." "what do you mean?" asked george with a flushed face. "oh, nothing!" answered ben bence, smiling. the smile made george uncomfortable. was it possible that this common fisherman was laughing at him? but, of course, that did not matter, and he had saved his five cents. george got home in time for supper, but it was not till after supper that he mentioned to herbert: "i saw that young fisherman this afternoon." "what young fisherman?" "the one you played croquet with this morning." "oh, bob coverdale! where did you see him?" asked herbert with interest. "on egg island." "how came he there?" inquired herbert, rather surprised. "he went there in a boat with his uncle. i expect he's there now." "why should he stay over there so long?" "it's a rich joke," said george, laughing. "it seems his uncle was mad with him and landed him there as a punishment. he's got to stay there all night." "i don't see anything so very amusing in that," said herbert, who was now thoroughly interested. "he wanted me to take him off," proceeded george. "he was trying to build a raft. i told him he'd better keep at it." if george had watched the countenance of his cousin he would have seen that herbert was very angry, but he was so amused by the thought of robert's perplexity that he did not notice. "do you mean to say that you refused to take him off?" demanded herbert in a quick, stern tone that arrested george's attention. "of course i did! what claim had he on me?" "and you deliberately left him there, when it would have been no trouble to give him a passage back?" "really, herbert, i don't like your way of speaking. it was my boat--or, at least, i was paying for the use of it--and i didn't choose to take him as a passenger." "george randolph, do you want to know my opinion of you?" asked herbert hotly. "what do you mean?" stammered george. "i mean this, that i am ashamed of you. you are the most contemptibly mean fellow i ever met, and i am heartily sorry there is any relationship between us." "i consider that an insult!" exclaimed george, pale with anger. "i am glad you do. i mean it as such. just tell my mother i won't be back till late in the evening." "where are you going?" "i am going to get a boat and row to egg island for bob coverdale," and herbert dashed up the street in the direction of the beach. "he must be crazy!" muttered george, looking after his cousin. herbert irving reached the beach and sought out ben bence. "mr. bence," he said, "i want to go to egg island. if you can spare the time, come with me and i'll pay you for your time." "what are you going for, master herbert?" upon this herbert explained the object of his trip. "now, will you go?" he asked. "yes," answered the fisherman heartily, "i'll go and won't charge you a cent for the boat or my time. bob coverdale's a favorite of mine, and i'm sorry his uncle treats him so badly." strong, sturdy strokes soon brought them to the island. "bob! where are you. bob?" called herbert. there was no answer. the island was so small that he would have been seen if he had been there. "he must have got off," said herbert. "george said he was building a raft." "then i mistrust something's happened to the poor boy," said bence gravely. "he couldn't build a raft here that would hold together till he reached the mainland." herbert turned pale. "i hope it isn't so bad as that," he said. "let us row back as quick as we can!" chapter xii a mysterious disappearance as they were rowing back they scanned the sea in every direction, but nowhere did they discover any signs of robert or his raft. "perhaps," suggested herbert, breaking a long silence, "bob is already at home." he looked inquiringly in the face of his companion to see what he thought of the chances. "mayhap he is," said ben bence slowly, "but i mistrust he found it too rough for the raft." "in that case----" said herbert anxiously and stopped without answering the question. "in that case the poor boy's at the bottom of the sea, it's likely." "he could swim, mr. bence." "yes, but the tide would be too strong for him. just about now there's a fearful undertow. i couldn't swim against it myself, let alone a boy." "if anything has happened to him it's his uncle's fault," said herbert. "john trafton will have to answer for it," said the fisherman sternly. "there ain't one of us that don't love bob. he's a downright good boy, bob coverdale is, and a smart boy, too." "if he's lost i will never have anything more to do with george randolph. i will ask mother to pack him back to boston to-morrow." "george ain't a mite like you," said ben bence. "i hope not," returned herbert hastily. "he's one of the meanest boys i ever met. he might just as well have taken poor bob off the island this afternoon, if he hadn't been so spiteful and ugly." "it would serve him right to leave him there a while himself," suggested bence. "i agree with you." there was another pause. each was troubled by anxious thoughts about the missing boy. when they reached the shore herbert said: "i'm going to mr. trafton's to see if bob has got home." "i'll go with you," said the fisherman briefly. they reached the humble cabin of the traftons and knocked at the door. mrs. trafton opened it. "good evening, mr. bence," she said. "i believe this young gentleman is master herbert irving? i have often heard robert speak of him." "is robert at home?" asked herbert eagerly. "no, he has been away all day," answered his aunt. "do you know where he is?" inquired ben bence soberly. "mr. trafton wouldn't tell me. he said he had sent him away on some errand, but i don't see where he could have gone, to stay so long." it was clear mrs. trafton knew nothing of the trick which had been played upon her nephew. "tell her, mr. bence," said herbert, turning to his companion. "has anything happened to robert?" asked mrs. trafton, turning pale. they told her how her husband had conveyed robert to egg island and then treacherously left him there, to get off as he might. "was there any difficulty between bob and his uncle?" asked ben bence. "yes; the boy had a little money which had been given him and my husband ordered him to give it up to him. he'd have done it, if he hadn't wanted to spend it for me. he was always a considerate boy, and i don't know what i should have done without him. mr. bence, i know it's a good deal to ask, but i can't bear to think of robert staying on the island all night. would you mind rowing over and bringing him back?" as yet mrs. trafton did not understand that any greater peril menaced her nephew. "mrs. trafton, we have just been over to egg island," said the fisherman. "and didn't you find him?" "no; he was not there." "but how could he get off?" "he was seen this afternoon making a raft from the old timbers he found in the wreck. he must have put to sea on it." "then why is he not here?" "the sea was rough, and----" mrs. trafton, who had been standing, sank into a chair with a startled look. "you don't think my boy is lost?" "i hate to think so, mrs. trafton, but it may be." from grief there was a quick transition to righteous indignation. "if the poor boy is drowned, i charge john trafton with his death!" said the grief-stricken woman with an energy startling for one of her usually calm temperament. "what's this about john trafton?" demanded a rough voice. it was john trafton himself, who, unobserved, had reached the door of the cabin. ben bence and herbert shrank from him with natural aversion. "so you're talking against me behind my back, are you?" asked trafton, looking from one to the other with a scowl. his wife rose to her feet and turned upon him a glance such as he had never met before. "what have you done with robert, john trafton?" she demanded sternly. "oh! that's it, is it?" he said, laughing shortly. "i've served him as he deserved." "what have you done with him?" she continued in a slow, measured voice. "you needn't come any tragedy over me, old woman!" he answered with annoyance. "i left him on egg island to punish him for disobeying me!" "i charge you with his murder!" she continued, confronting him with a courage quite new to her. "murder!" he repeated, starting. "come, now, that's a little too strong! leaving him on egg island isn't murdering him. you talk like a fool!" "trafton," said ben bence gravely, "there is reason to think that your nephew put off from the island on a raft, which he made himself, and that the raft went to pieces." for the first time john trafton's brown face lost its color. "you don't mean to say bob's drowned?" he ejaculated. "there is reason to fear that he may be." "i'll bet he's on the island now." "we have just been there and he is not there." at length trafton began to see that the situation was a grave one, and he began to exculpate himself. "if he was such a fool as to put to sea on a crazy raft it ain't my fault," he said. "i couldn't help it, could i?" "if you hadn't left him there he would still be alive and well." john trafton pulled out his red cotton handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe his forehead, on which the beads of perspiration were gathering. "of course i wouldn't have left him there if i'd known what he would do," he muttered. "did you mean to leave him there all night?" asked bence. "yes, i meant it as a lesson to him," said the fisherman. "a lesson to him? you are a fine man to give a lesson to him! you, who spend all your earnings for drink and leave me to starve! john trafton, i charge you with the death of poor robert!" exclaimed mrs. trafton with startling emphasis. perhaps nothing more contributed to overwhelm john trafton than the wonderful change which had taken place in his usually gentle and submissive wife. he returned her accusing glance with a look of deprecation. "come now, jane, be a little reasonable," he said. "you're very much mistaken. it was only in fun i left him. i thought it would be a good joke to leave him on the island all night. say something for me, ben--there's a good fellow." but ben bence was not disposed to waste any sympathy on john trafton. he was glad to see trafton brought to judgment and felt like deepening his sense of guilt rather than lightening it. "your wife is right," he said gravely. "if poor bob is dead, you are guilty of his death in the sight of god." "but he isn't dead! it's all a false alarm. i'll get my boat and row over to the island myself. very likely he had gone to sleep among the bushes and that prevented your seeing him." there was a bare possibility of this, but ben bence had little faith in it. "go, if you like," he said. "if you find him, it will lift a great weight from your conscience." john trafton dashed to the shore, flung himself into his boat, and, with feverish haste, began to row toward the island. he bitterly repented now the act which had involved him in such grave responsibility. he was perfectly sober, for his credit at the tavern was temporarily exhausted. of course those who remained behind in the cabin had no hope of robert being found. they were forced to believe that the raft had gone to pieces and the poor boy, in his efforts to reach the shore, had been swept back into the ocean by the treacherous undertow and was now lying stiff and stark at the bottom of the sea. "what shall i ever do without robert?" said mrs. trafton, her defiant mood changing, at her husband's departure, to an outburst of grief. "he was all i had to live for." "you have your husband," suggested ben bence doubtfully. "my husband!" she repeated drearily. "you know how little company he is for me and how little he does to make me comfortable and happy. i will never forgive him for this day's work." ben bence, who was a just man, ventured to represent that trafton did not foresee the result of his action; but, in the sharpness of her bereavement, mrs. trafton would find no excuse for him. herbert, too, looked pale and distressed. he had a genuine attachment for robert, whose good qualities he was able to recognize and appreciate, even if he was a fisherman's nephew. he, too, thought sorrowfully of his poor friend, snatched from life and swept by the cruel and remorseless sea to an ocean grave. he, too, had his object of resentment. but for george randolph, he reflected, robert would now be alive and well, and he resolved to visit george with his severest reproaches. while all were plunged in a similar grief a strange thing happened. the door of the cabin was closed by john trafton as he went out. suddenly there was heard a scratching at the door, and a sound was heard as of a dog trying to excite attention. "it must be my dog dash," said herbert. "i wonder how he found me out?" he advanced to the door and opened it. before him stood a dog, but it was not dash. it was a large black dog, with an expression of intelligence almost human. he had in his mouth what appeared to be a scrap of writing paper. this he dropped on the ground when he saw that he had attracted herbert's attention. "what does this mean?" thought herbert in great surprise, "and where does this dog come from?" he stooped and picked up the paper, greatly to the dog's apparent satisfaction. it was folded in the middle and contained, written in pencil, the following message, which, not being directed to any one in particular, herbert felt at liberty to read: "feel no anxiety about robert coverdale. he is safe!" herbert read the message, the dog uttered a quick bark of satisfaction, and, turning, ran down the cliff to the beach. herbert was so excited and delighted at the news of his friend's safety that he gave no further attention to the strange messenger, but hurried into the cabin. "mrs. trafton--mr. bence!" he exclaimed, "bob is safe!" "what do you mean? what have you heard?" they asked quickly. "read this!" answered herbert, giving mrs. trafton the scrap of paper. "who brought it?" she asked, bewildered. "a dog." ben bence quickly asked: "what do you mean?" "i know nothing more than that a large black dog came to the door with this in his mouth, which he dropped at my feet." "that is very strange," said bence. he opened the door and looked out, but no dog was to be seen. "do you believe this? can it be true?" asked mrs. trafton. "i believe it is true, though i can't explain it," answered ben. "some dogs are wonderfully trained. i don't know whom this dog belongs to, but whoever it is he doubtless has robert under his care. let us be thankful that he has been saved." "but why don't he come home?" asked mrs. trafton. "where can he be?" "he was probably rescued in an exhausted condition. cheer up, mrs. trafton. you will no doubt see your boy to-morrow." "i feel like giving three cheers, mr. bence," said herbert. "then give 'em, boy, and i'll help you!" said old ben. the three cheers were given with a will, and herbert went home, his heart much lighter than it had been ten minutes before. chapter xiii the cruise of the raft it is time we carried the reader back to the time when robert, after launching his rude raft, set out from the island of his captivity. notwithstanding his rather critical situation, he was in excellent spirits. the treasure which he had unearthed from the wreck very much elated him. it meant comfort and independence for a time at least, and in his new joy he was even ready to forgive his uncle for leaving him on the island and randolph for not taking him off. "i've heard of things turning out for the best," was the thought that passed through his mind, "but i never understood it so well before." robert possessed a large measure of courage and he had been used to the sea from the age of six, or as far back as he could remember, but when he had rounded the island and paddled a few rods out to sea he began to feel serious. there was a strong wind blowing, and this had roughened the sea and made it difficult for him to guide his extemporized raft in the direction he desired. had it been his uncle's fishing boat and had he but possessed a good pair of stout oars, he would have experienced no particular difficulty. he would perhaps have found it rather hard pulling, but he was unusually strong for his age, and, in the end, he would have reached the shore. but with a frail raft, loosely put together, and only a board to row or paddle with, his progress was very slow. he did make a little progress, however, but it was so little that, at the end of fifteen minutes, he seemed as far off from the little cabin on the cliff as ever. "it's hard work," said robert to himself. "i wish i had a boat. if it were smooth water, i could get along with a raft, but now----" he stopped short, as the raft was lifted on the crest of a wave, and he nearly slid off into the water. he looked back to the island and began to consider whether it would not be best, after all, to paddle back and trust to being taken off the next morning by some fisherman's boat. no doubt that would have been the most sensible thing to do, but robert was very reluctant to relinquish his project. had he not devoted several hours to constructing the raft he was trying to navigate and should he allow this time to be thrown away? again, the prospect of passing a night upon egg island was not very inviting. there was nothing to fear, of course, for the island was too small to be infested by wild animals or even snakes. he could no doubt sleep some, even if his bed were not very comfortable. robert looked back. by this time he was half a mile, at a rough guess, from egg island, and between his raft and the mainland there intervened probably two miles and a half of rough sea. "if i can get within half a mile of shore," thought our young hero, "i won't care for the raft any longer. i will plunge into the waves and swim to the shore." he looked toward the shore. there, in plain view, was the humble cabin which he called home. inside doubtless was his aunt, worrying perhaps about his absence. "how delighted she will be when i tell her of the money i have found!" thought robert joyfully. "come, bob, brace up now and push out boldly for home." with his eyes fixed on the cabin, our young hero used his paddle with such energy that, in the course of half an hour or thereabouts, he was about a mile farther on his way. he had gone half way, and though he was somewhat fatigued, he was strong and muscular, and the chances were that he would be able to hold out till he reached the boat landing. but now a new danger threatened itself. the assaults of the sea had strained heavily the raft, which he had not been able, for want of nails, to make strong and secure. robert's heart beat with quiet alarm as he realized that there was small chance of his frail craft holding together till he reached shore. the danger was hardly realized before it came. a strong wave wrenched apart the timbers, and robert coverdale found himself, without warning, spilled into the sea, a mile and a half from land. instinctively he struck out and began to swim, but the distance was great and he was impeded by his clothes. looking neither to the right nor to the left, but only straight ahead, he swam with all the strength there was left to him, but he found himself weakening after a while and gave himself up for lost. chapter xiv the hermit of the cliff the last thing that robert could remember was the singing of the waters in his ears and a weight as of lead that bore him downward with a force which he felt unable to resist. but at the critical moment, when the doors of death seemed to be swinging open to admit him, he was firmly seized by a slender, muscular arm, extended from a boat shaped somewhat like an indian canoe and rowed by a tall, thin man with white hair and a long white beard. in the dusk our hero had not seen the boat nor known that help was so near at hand. but the occupant of the boat had, from a distance, seen the going to pieces of the raft, and appreciated the peril of the brave swimmer, and paddled his boat energetically toward him just in time to rescue him when already insensible. pale and with closed eyes lay robert in the bottom of the boat. the old man--for so he appeared--rather anxiously opened the boy's shirt and placed his hand over his heart. an expression of relief appeared on his face. "he will do," he said sententiously and turned his attention to the boat. half a mile from the cliff on which stood the fisherman's cabin was another, rising to a greater height. to this the stranger directed his boat. he fastened it and then, raising our hero in his arms, walked toward the cliff. there was a cavity as wide as a door, but less in height, through which he passed, lowering his head as he entered. inside the opening steadily widened and became higher. this cavity was about ten feet above the sandy beach and was reached by a ladder. on he passed, guided amid the darkness by a light from a lantern hanging from the roof. the front portion of the cavern seemed like a hall, through which a narrow doorway led into a larger room, which was furnished like the interior of a house. upon a walnut table stood a lamp, which the stranger lighted. he took the boy, already beginning to breathe more freely, and laid him on a lounge, covered with a buffalo skin, at the opposite side of the apartment. from a shelf he took a bottle and administered a cordial to robert, who, though not yet sensible, mechanically swallowed it. the effect was almost instantaneous. the boy opened his eyes and looked about him in bewilderment. "where am i?" he inquired. "what can you remember?" asked the old man. robert shuddered. "i was struggling in the water," he answered. "i thought i was drowning." then, gazing at the strange apartment and the majestic face of the venerable stranger, he said hesitatingly: "am i still living or was i drowned?" he was not certain whether he had made the mysterious passage from this world to the next, so strange and unfamiliar seemed everything about him. "you are still in life," answered the stranger, smiling gravely. "god has spared you, and a long life is yet before you if he wills." "and you saved me?" "yes." "how can i thank you? i owe you my life," said robert gratefully. "i am indebted to you for the opportunity once more to be of use to one of my race." "i don't understand how you could have saved me. when i went down i could see no one near." "on account of the dusk. i was not far away in my boat. i saw your peril and hastened to your assistance. fortunately i was not too late. do you know who it is that has saved you?" "yes," answered robert. "you have seen me before?" "yes, but not often." "how do people call me?" "they call you 'the hermit of the cliff.'" "as well that as anything else," said the old man. "what more do they say of me?" robert seemed reluctant to tell, but there was something imperative in the old man's tone. "some say you are crazy," he answered. "i am not surprised to hear it. the world is apt to say that of one who behaves differently from his fellows. but i must not talk too much of myself. how do you feel?" "i feel weak," answered robert. "doubtless. swimming against such a current was a severe strain upon your strength. let me feel your pulse." he pressed his finger upon robert's pulse and reported that the action was slow. "it means exhaustion," he said. "you must sleep well, and to-morrow morning you will feel as well as usual." "but i ought to go home," said robert, trying to rise. "my aunt will feel anxious about me." "who is your aunt?" "i am the nephew of john trafton, who has a small house on the cliff." "i know. he is a fisherman." "yes, sir." "don't disturb yourself. word shall be sent to your aunt that you are safe. i will give you a sleeping draught, and tomorrow morning we will speak further." somehow robert did not dream of resisting the will of his host. the old man had an air of command to which it seemed natural to submit. moreover, he knew that to this mysterious stranger--the hermit of the cliff, as the fishermen called him--he was indebted for his life, and such a man must necessarily be his friend. robert was, besides, in that condition of physical languor when, if he had felt disposed, he would have found it very difficult to make resistance to the will of another. "first of all," said the old man, "you must take off your wet clothes. i will place them where they can dry, so that you may put them on in the morning." with assistance robert divested himself of his wet garments. as we know, he had little to take off. the stranger brought out a nightgown and then placed our hero in his own bed, wrapping him up in blankets. "now for the sleeping draught," he said. from a bottle he poured out a few drops, which robert swallowed. in less than three minutes he had closed his eyes and was in a profound slumber. the old man regarded him with satisfaction as he lay breathing tranquilly upon the bed. "he is young and strong. nature has been kind to him and given him an excellent constitution. sleep will repair the ill effects of exposure. i must remember my promise to the boy," he said. turning to the table, he drew from a drawer writing materials and wrote the brief message which, as we have already seen, was duly delivered, and then walked to the entrance of the cavern. he placed a whistle to his lips, and in response to his summons a black dog came bounding to him from the recesses of the grotto and fawned upon him. "come with me, carlo; i have work for you," he said. the dog, as if he understood, followed his master out upon the beach. they walked far enough to bring into clear distinctness the cabin on the cliff. "do you see that house. carlo?" asked his master, directing the dog's attention with his outstretched finger. carlo answered by a short, quick bark, which apparently meant "yes." "carry this note there. do you understand?" the dog opened his mouth to receive the missive and trotted contentedly away. the hermit turned and retraced his steps to the cavern. he stood beside the bed and saw, to his satisfaction, that robert was still sleeping peacefully. "it is strange," said he musingly, "that i should feel such an interest in this boy. i had forsworn all intercourse with my kind, save to provide myself with the necessaries of life. for two years i have lived here alone with my dog and i fancied that i felt no further interest in the affairs of my fellow men. yet here is a poor boy thrown on my hands, and i feel positive pleasure in having him with me. yet he is nothing to me. he belongs to a poor fisherman's family, and probably he is uneducated, and has no tastes in common with me. yet he is an attractive boy. he has a well-shaped head and a bright eye. there must be a capacity for something better and higher. i will speak with him in the morning." he opened a volume from his bookcase, to which reference has not as yet been made, and for two hours he seemed to be absorbed by it. closing it at length, he threw himself upon the couch on which robert had at first been placed and finally fell asleep. chapter xv the home of the hermit when robert awoke the next morning he found himself alone. his strange host was absent, on some errand perhaps. after a brief glance of bewilderment, robert remembered where he was, and with the recovery of his strength, which had been repaired by sleep, he felt a natural curiosity about his host and his strange home. so far as he knew, he was the first inhabitant of the village who had been admitted to a sight of its mystery. for two years the hermit of the cliff had made his home there, but he had shunned all intercourse with his neighbors and had coldly repelled all advances and checked all curiosity by his persistent taciturnity. from time to time he went to the village for supplies, and when they were too bulky to admit of his carrying them, he had had them delivered on the beach in front of the entrance to his cave dwelling and at his leisure carried them in himself. he always attracted attention, as with his tall, slender, majestic figure he moved through the village, or paced the beach, or impelled his frail boat. but speculation as to who he was or what had induced him to become a recluse had about ceased from the despair of obtaining any light upon these points. no wonder then that robert, admitted by chance to his dwelling, looked about him in curious wonder. cavern as it was, the room was fitted up with due regard to comfort and even luxury. the bed on which our hero reposed was soft and inviting. the rough stone floor was not carpeted, but was spread with turkish rugs. there was a bookcase, containing perhaps two hundred books; there was a table and writing desk, an easy-chair and a rocking-chair, and the necessarily dark interior was lighted by an astral lamp, diffusing a soft and pleasant light. on a shelf ticked a french clock and underneath it was a bureau provided with toilet necessaries. no one in the village knew how these articles had been spirited into the cavern. no one of the villagers had assisted. indeed, no one, except robert, knew that the hermit was so well provided with comforts. our hero found his clothes on a chair at his bedside. they were drier and suitable for wearing. "i may as well dress," thought robert. "i won't go away till i've seen the hermit. i want to thank him again for taking such good care of me." he did not have to wait long, however. he had scarcely completed his toilet when the hermit appeared. "so, my young friend, you arc quite recovered from your bath?" "yes, sir." "that is well." "i think, sir, i had better go home now, for my aunt will be anxious about me." "i sent a message to your aunt last evening. she knew before she went to bed that you were safe." "thank you, sir!" "i am not apt to be curious, but i wish, before you leave me, to ask you a few questions. sit down, if you please." robert seated himself. he felt that the hermit had a right to ask some questions of one whom he had saved. "how came you so far out at sea on a frail raft? if you had been shipwrecked, that would explain it, but as you have not been to sea, i cannot understand it." "i found myself on egg island, without any means of getting off. so i made a raft from the timbers of the wreck and launched it. i thought it would last long enough for me to reach land." "it was a hazardous enterprise. but how came you on the island? surely you did not swim there?" "no, sir. my uncle carried me there in his boat. he refused to take me off unless i would give up some money which i wanted to spend for my aunt." "was the money yours?" "yes, sir. it was given me by a gentleman living at the hotel." "your uncle--john trafton--is not a temperate man?" "no, sir. he spends all the money he earns on drink, and my aunt and i have to live as we can." "what a fool is man!" said the hermit musingly. "he alone of created beings allows himself to be controlled by his appetites, while professing to stand at the head of the universe!" robert felt that he was not expected to answer this speech and remained respectfully silent till his host resumed his questioning. "and you," said the old man abruptly, "what do you do?" "sometimes i go out with my uncle's boat and catch fish for use at home. sometimes i find jobs to do in the village which bring in a little money. i am always glad of that, for we can't buy groceries without money, and my uncle never gives us any. my aunt is very fond of tea, but once for three weeks she had to do without it." "that was a pity. there are some who find great comfort in tea." "it is so with aunt jane. she says it puts new life in her." "have you any money now?" "oh, i forgot to tell you of my good luck!" said robert eagerly. "just before i left the wreck i dug up this," and he displayed the purse with the gold pieces in it. "it would have been a pity if i had been drowned with all this in my pocket." "my poor boy, your young life would have outweighed a thousandfold the value of these paltry coins. still i do not depreciate them, for they may be exchanged for comforts. but will not your uncle seek to take them from you?" "he will not know that i have this money. i shall not tell him." "it will be better." for a brief time the hermit gazed at robert in thoughtful silence and then said: "how old are you?" "fifteen, sir." "have you ever thought of life and its uses--i mean of the uses of your own life? have you ever formed plans for the future?" "no, sir. it did not seem of much use. i have had to consider how to get enough for my aunt and myself to live upon." "so your uncle's burdens have been laid on your young shoulders? have you no aspirations? are you willing to follow in his steps and grow up a fisherman, like your neighbors?" "no, sir. i should be very sorry if i thought i must always live here at cook's harbor and go out fishing. i should like to see something of the world, as i suppose you have." "yes, i have seen much of the world--too much for my happiness--or i would not have come to this quiet spot to end my days. but for a young and guileless boy, whose life is but beginning, the world has its charms. do you care for books?" "i have never looked into many, sir, but that is not my fault. i have half a dozen tattered books at home and i study in some of them every day. i have been nearly through the arithmetic and i know something of geography. sometimes i get hold of a paper, but not often, for my uncle takes none and does not care for reading." "look among my books. see if there is any one you would like to read." robert had already cast wistful glances at the rows of books in the handsome bookcase. he had never before seen so many books together, for cook's harbor was not noted for its literary men and book lovers. he gladly accepted the hermit's invitation. his attention was quickly drawn to a set of the waverley novels. he had often heard of them, and an extract which he had seen in his school reader from "rob roy" had given him a strong desire to read the story from which it was taken. "i should like to borrow 'rob roy,'" he said. "you may take it. when you have read it, you may, upon returning it, have another." "then i may call to see you, sir?" "i shall be glad to have you do so. it is an invitation i never expected to give, but you have interested me, and i may be able to serve you at some time." "thank you, sir. if you should ever want any one to run errands for you, i hope you will call upon me. i should like to make some return for your great kindness." "that is well thought of. you may come to me every tuesday and friday mornings, at nine o'clock, and carry my orders to the village. i do not care to go there, but have had no messenger i could trust. for this service i will pay you two dollars a week." robert was astonished at the mention of such liberal payment. "but, sir, that is rather too much," he began. "let it be so," said the hermit. "i have money in plenty and it does not bring me happiness. in your hands it may do good." "it will be a great help to me, sir." "it is understood then. i will not detain you longer. go home and gladden the heart of your aunt." robert left the cavern, more than ever puzzled by his brief acquaintance with the mysterious recluse. chapter xvi the fisherman's temptation it is needless to say that robert received a joyful welcome from his aunt. her joy was increased when her nephew showed her the gold which he had found upon the island. "you see, aunt," he said, "it wasn't such bad luck, after all, to be left on the island." "god has so shaped events as to bring good out of evil," answered mrs. trafton, who was a religious woman and went regularly to church, though her husband never accompanied her. "but i am afraid your uncle will try to get the money away from you." "i don't want him to know it, aunt." "i shall not tell him, robert, but he may find out." "that is not all. i have got regular work to do which will bring me in two dollars a week." then robert told his surprised aunt the story of his engagement by the hermit, who for two years had been the mystery of the village. "it never rains but it pours, you see, aunt," he said cheerfully. he wondered how his uncle would receive him and whether he would make a fresh demand for the small sum of money which had been the cause of the original trouble. but john trafton had been thoroughly alarmed by the consequences of his former act and he had, besides, such experience of robert's firmness that he concluded it would not be worth while to carry the matter any further. he greeted robert sullenly. "so you are back?" he said gruffly. "yes," answered the boy. "who took you off?" "i put off on a raft and should have been drowned but for the hermit. he saved me." "you deserved to be drowned for putting off on a raft." "did you think i was going to stay on the island?" asked robert with spirit. "if i had been drowned it would have been your fault." "none of your impudence, boy!" said john trafton. and then he dropped the subject without referring to the money. during the day robert called on herbert irving to thank him for his interest in his behalf. george was in the yard, but his valise was in his hand and he seemed on the point of departure. he scowled at robert, but didn't speak. "i'm glad to see you back, bob," said herbert warmly. "what an old rascal your uncle is! now tell me all about how you escaped." while robert was telling the story the stage drove up and george got on board. "good-by, george!" said herbert. george did not deign a reply and rode sullenly away. "he doesn't find that the climate of cook's harbor suits him," said herbert significantly. "he doesn't seem very happy about going," said robert. "i didn't expect he would notice me, but he did not bid you good-by." "the fact is george and i have had a flare-up," said herbert. "i was disgusted with his heartlessness in refusing to take you from egg island, and i told him so pretty plainly. he accused me of insulting him and threatened to lay a complaint before my mother. i requested him to do so. considerably to his surprise, she took my part and reproved him for his selfish and disagreeable pride. this was too much for the young gentleman, and he gave notice that he should return to the city. no one attempted to keep him, and he has felt compelled to carry out his threat, a good deal to his disappointment." "i am sorry you are losing your visitor on my account, herbert." "you needn't. though he is my cousin, i am glad to have him go." "but you will feel lonely." "not if you come to see me every day, bob." "if we didn't live in a poor cabin, i would ask you to visit me." "never mind about how you live; i will come. it isn't the house i shall come to see, but you. some time when you are going out fishing i wish you would take me along." "with all my heart, if you will come." to herbert alone robert confided his discovery of the purse of gold. it was about a week before robert had occasion to use any of his gold. by that time he had spent the balance of the money given him by mr. lawrence tudor and was forced to fall back upon his gold, having as yet received nothing from the hermit, who knew that he was not in immediate want of money. abner sands was standing behind the counter in his grocery when robert entered. "what can i do for ye, robert?" asked the trader. "you may give me two pounds of tea and six pounds of flour." "i s'pose ye've got the money," said sands cautiously. "of course i have." "you're doin' well now, robert, i take it?" said the trader. "better than i used to," answered robert. he did not choose to make a confidant of mr. sands, who was a man of great curiosity and an inveterate gossip. when the goods were done up in separate parcels robert took out the two-dollar-and-a-half gold piece and passed it to the grocer. "why, i declare, it's gold!" exclaimed mr. sands wonderingly. "yes, it is gold." "of all things, i didn't expect to get gold from you, robert coverdale. i reckon you've found a gold mine!" "perhaps i have," said robert, smiling. as he put his hand in his pocket another gold piece dropped to the floor and he picked it up hastily, provoked at his carelessness, not, however, before the astonished trader had seen it. he was sorely puzzled to know how a poor boy like robert could have so much money in his possession and put one or two questions, which our hero evaded. "the tea and flour came to a dollar and a quarter," said the shrewd trader, "and that leaves a dollar and a quarter to come to you." he tendered robert a one-dollar bill and twenty-five cents. after robert went home mr. sands searched his brain in trying to guess where he could have obtained his gold, but the more he thought the darker and more mysterious it seemed. while in this state of perplexity john trafton entered the store. he had seen robert going out with two large parcels, and he came in to learn what he could about them. "how d'ye do, sands?" he said. "has bob been in here?" "yes." "did he buy anything?" "two pounds of tea and half a dozen pounds of flour. seems to have considerable money." "does he?" inquired trafton eagerly. "i thought you knew. why, he paid me in gold!" "in gold?" ejaculated trafton. "to be sure! he give me a two-and-a-half gold piece, and that wasn't all. he dropped a ten-dollar gold piece by accident, but picked it right up." "you don't mean it?" said the fisherman, astounded. "yes, i do. but i s'posed you knew all about it." "i only know what you've told me. the fact is that boy hasn't a spark of gratitude. it seems he's rolling in wealth and leaves me to get along as i can." "nephews ain't generally expected to provide for their uncles," said abner sands dryly. but john trafton did not hear him. as he left the store an idea entered his mind. he knew that robert had found a friend in the hermit, and he decided that the gold came from him. if that was the case, the hermit must be rich. who knows but he might have thousands of dollars in the cave? the fisherman's eyes sparkled with greed and he was assailed by a powerful temptation. his credit at the tavern was about exhausted. what a pity he could not get some of the gold, which appeared to do its possessor so little good! chapter xvii john trafton's new plan with the new but unlawful purpose which he had begun to entertain john trafton resolved to find out all he could about the hermit, and he rightly judged that robert could give him more information than anybody else. he decided to go home early and question his nephew cautiously. if he could find out something about the hermit's habits and peculiarities it would help him in his plan, for there was no beating about the bush now. he acknowledged to himself that he meant to enter the cave, and if he could only find the gold, which he was persuaded the occupant owned in large quantities, to enrich himself at his expense. his imagination was dazzled at the prospect. all his life he had been working for a bare living. probably, in his most prosperous year, not over three hundred dollars in money had come into his hands as the recompense of his toil. probably there are few people who do not, at some time, indulge in dreams of sudden wealth. this time had come to john trafton, and, unfortunately, the temptation which came with it was so powerful as to confuse his notions of right and wrong and almost to persuade him that there was nothing very much out of the way in robbing the recluse of his hoards. "it don't do him any good," argued the fisherman, "while it would make me comfortable for life. if i had ten thousand dollars, or even five, i'd go away from here and live like a gentleman. my wife should be rigged out from top to toe, and we'd jest settle down and take things easy." john trafton was not very strict in his principles, and his conscience did not trouble him much. even if it had, the dazzling picture which his fancy painted of an easy and luxurious future would probably have carried the day. it was only eight o'clock in the evening when the fisherman lifted the latch of the outer door and entered the cabin. his wife and robert looked up in surprise, for it was about two hours earlier than he generally made his appearance. another surprise--his gait and general appearance showed that he was quite sober. this was gratifying, even if it was the result of his credit being exhausted. during the preceding week it may be mentioned that he had worked more steadily than usual, having made several trips in his boat, and had thus been enabled to pay something on his score at the tavern. john trafton sat down before the fire. his wife was mending stockings by the light of a candle which burned on the table at her side and robert was absorbed by the fascinating pages of scott's "rob roy." a side glance showed the fisherman how his nephew was employed, and, rightly judging where the book came from, he seized upon it as likely to lead to the questions he wanted to ask. "what book have you got there, bob?" he inquired. "it is a story by sir walter scott, uncle." "never heard of him. does he live in boston?" asked trafton. "no, he was a scotchman." "some scotchmen are pretty smart, i've heard tell." "scott was a wonderful genius," said robert, glowing with enthusiasm. "i dare say he was," said the fisherman placidly. "where did you get the book?" "i borrowed it of the hermit." this was the name which robert used, for even now he had no knowledge of his mysterious friend's name. "has he got many books?" "a whole bookcase full." "he must be a rich man," suggested john trafton with apparent carelessness. "i think he is," said robert, wondering a little at his uncle's newborn interest in his new acquaintance, but suspecting nothing of his design in asking the question. "it stands to reason he must be," continued the fisherman. "he doesn't do anything for a living." "no." "then, of course, he's got enough to live on." "besides, all his furniture is very nice," cried robert, falling into the trap. "he seems not to mind money and talks as if he was always used to it." "i s'pose he pays you for running of errands for him," said trafton. "yes," answered robert reluctantly, for he feared that his uncle would ask to have the money transferred to him. but the next words of trafton reassured him. "that's all right," he said. "you can spend the money as you please. i don't ask you for any of it." "thank you, uncle," said robert warmly. mrs. trafton regarded her husband in surprise. he was appearing in a character new to her. what could his sudden unselfishness mean? "i only asked because i didn't want you to work for nothing, bob," said his uncle, not wishing it to appear that he had any other motive, as his plan must, of course, be kept secret from all. "i wouldn't mind working for nothing, uncle. it would be small pay for his saving my life," robert said with perfect sincerity. "he wouldn't want you to do it--a rich man like him," returned the fisherman complacently. "it's the only money he has to spend, except what he pays for victuals. i'm glad you've fallen in with him. you might as well get the benefit of his money as anybody." "uncle seems to think i only think of money," robert said to himself with some annoyance. "i begin to like the hermit. he is very kind to me." he did not give utterance to this thought, rightly deeming that it would not be expedient, but suffered his uncle to think as he might. "does the hermit always stay at home in the evening?" asked the fisherman after a pause. "sometimes he goes out in his boat late at night and rows about half the night. i suppose he gets tired of being alone or else can't sleep." john trafton nodded with an expression of satisfaction. this would suit his plans exactly. if he could only enter the cave in one of these absences, he would find everything easy and might accomplish his purpose without running any risk. it was clear to him now that the gold of which the trader spoke was given to his nephew by the hermit. he was justified in thinking so, as there was no other conceivable way in which robert could have obtained it. he coveted the ten-dollar gold piece, but he was playing for a higher stake and could afford to let that go for the present at least. the fisherman lit his pipe and smoked thoughtfully. his wife was not partial to the odor of strong tobacco, but tobacco, she reflected, was much to be preferred to drink, and if her husband could be beguiled from the use of the latter by his pipe then she would gladly endure it. john trafton smoked about ten minutes in silence and then rose from his chair. "i guess i'll go out on the beach and have my smoke there," he said as he took his hat from the peg on which he had hung it on entering the cabin. "you're not going back to the tavern, john?" said his wife in alarm. "no, i've quit the tavern for to-night. i'll just go out on the beach and have my smoke there. i won't be gone very long." when trafton had descended from the cliff to the beach he took the direction of the hermit's cave. of course he had been in that direction a good many times, but then there was nothing on his mind and he had not taken particular notice of the entrance or its surroundings. it was a calm, pleasant moonlight night and objects were visible for a considerable distance. trafton walked on till he stood at the foot of the cliff containing the cave. there was the rude ladder leading to the entrance. it was short. it could be scaled in a few seconds, and the box or chest of gold, in whose existence trafton had a thorough belief, could be found. but caution must be used. possibly the hermit might be at home, and if he were, he would, of course, be awake at that hour. besides, the cave was dark and he had no light. "when i come i will bring matches and a candle," thought the fisherman. "i can't find the gold unless i can see my way. what a fool this hermit must be to stay in such a place when with his money he could live handsomely in the city! but i don't find fault with him for that. it's so much the better for me." he turned his eyes toward the sea, and by the light of the moon he saw the hermit's slender skiff approaching. the old man was plainly visible, with his long gray hair floating over his shoulders as he bent to the oars. "he mustn't see me," muttered the fisherman. "i had better go home." chapter xviii a desperate conflict about eight o'clock the next evening john trafton sat in the barroom at the tavern enjoying himself in the manner characteristic of the place. all day long his mind had been dwelling upon the plan which he had so recently formed, and he felt a feverish desire to carry it out. "one bold stroke," he said to himself, "and i am a made man. no more hard work for me. i will live like a gentleman." it was rather a strange idea the fisherman had--that he could live like a gentleman on the proceeds of a burglary--but there are many who, like him, consider that nothing is needed but money to make a gentleman. that very night john trafton decided to make the attempt, if circumstances seemed favorable. he shrank from it as the time approached and felt that he needed some artificial courage. for this reason he visited the tavern and patronized the bar more liberally than usual. trafton had prudently resolved to keep his design entirely secret and not to drop even a hint calculated to throw suspicion upon him after the event. but there is an old proverb that when the wine is in the wit is out, and, though the fisherman indulged in whisky rather than wine, the saying will apply just as well to the one as to the other. among the company present in the barroom was one man who had been in the village a day or two, but was a stranger to all present. he was a short, powerfully made man, roughly dressed, with a low brow and quick, furtive eyes that had a look of suspicion in them. he had naturally found his way to the tavern bar and proved himself a liberal patron of the establishment. therefore the landlord--though he did not fancy the looks of his new guest--treated him with politeness. somehow the conversation on that particular evening drifted to the probable wealth of city people who made their homes at cook's harbor during the summer. it was afterward remembered that the roughly dressed stranger had introduced the subject in a casual way. "it's my opinion," said ben barton, "that mr. irving is our richest man." "what makes you think so, ben?" asked the landlord. "the way he lives partly. he's got everything that money can buy. besides, i heard his boy say that his father's watch cost him five hundred dollars. now, it stands to reason that a man don't wear a watch like that unless he's got the money to back it." "there's something in that," the landlord admitted. the stranger seemed interested. "does this irving stay down here himself?" he asked. "no, he only comes down saturday to stay over sunday." "does he have much silver in the house?" "i don't know. why?" inquired ben barton, turning a surprised look upon the stranger. "because a real, tiptop rich man generally has plenty of plate," answered the man after a pause. "i guess he doesn't keep it down here," said barton. "it's likely he's got plenty in the city." the stranger shrugged his shoulders. "does his wife wear diamonds?" he asked. "not down here. there wouldn't be any occasion." "does he get his groceries here or in the city?" "he sends them down here by express." the stranger seemed to lose all interest in the irving family. two or three summer residents were mentioned who were supposed to be rich, but it did not appear that any of them kept valuables at their summer homes. john trafton had not taken any part in the conversation hitherto, and if he had been prudent he would have continued to remain silent, but a man excited by drink is not likely to be discreet. he broke silence when there came a lull in the discussion. "there's one man you haven't mentioned," he said, "who keeps more money on hand than mr. irving or any one else you have spoken of." "a man in the village here?" asked the landlord. "he means you, mr. jones," said ben barton jocosely. "ain't we all of us bringing you money every day? you ought to have a pile by this time." "so i might if all that were owing me would pay up," retorted the landlord. as ben was one of his debtors, this was felt to be a fair hit, and there was a laugh at his expense. "p'r'aps trafton means himself," suggested ben by way of diversion. "i wish i did," said the fisherman. "well, i may be rich some time; stranger things have happened." "i can't think of any stranger thing than that," said ben. and the laugh now was at trafton's expense, but he didn't seem to mind it. by this time the general curiosity was aroused. "who is this rich man you're talkin' about, trafton?" asked sam cummings. "the hermit of the cliff," answered the fisherman. there was a general rustle of surprise. "what reason have you for saying that?" asked mr. jones, the landlord. by this time, however, john trafton began to suspects that he had been imprudent and he answered with a mysterious shake of the head: "i've no call to tell you that, but i've got my reasons." "can't you tell us, john?" asked ben barton. "i might, but i won't; but i stand by what i've said." "doesn't your boy do errands for the hermit?" asked the landlord. "suppose he does?" "and he goes into the hermit's cave?" "perhaps he does and perhaps he doesn't." "i know he does, for i was on the beach a day or two ago and i see him a-climbin' the ladder and goin' in," said ben barton. "you'll have to ask him about that," said the fisherman. "whereabouts is his cave?" asked the stranger, who had listened intently to what had been said. one of the party described its location fully. "then i've seen it," said the other. "i was walking on the beach this morning and i wondered what the ladder was for." he asked various questions about the hermit and his mode of life, which excited no wonder, as the curiosity about the hermit was shared by all. john trafton allowed himself to say one thing more that increased this feeling. "i won't tell all i know," he said, "but i can tell you this hermit lives like a prince. he's got handsomer furniture than there is in any house in cook's harbor." no one had told the fisherman this, but he knew the statement would make a sensation and chose to embellish what he had heard from robert. "that's a strange idea to furnish a cave that way," said the stranger. "it may be strange, but it's true." "do you think he keeps a good deal of money by him?" asked the stranger with evident interest. john trafton nodded significantly. the conversation now drifted into other channels. the stranger ordered another glass of whisky and went out. "where is that man staying?" asked cummings. "not here," answered the landlord. "i don't like his looks and don't care where he stays as long as he don't ask for a room here." "you don't mind selling him drink, landlord?" "not as long as he's got money to pay. that's a different matter." a few minutes later john trafton left the tavern. he had drunk considerable, but not enough to make him incapable of action. the drink excited him and nerved him for the task he had in view, for upon this very evening he had decided to force an entrance into the hermit's mysterious residence, and he hoped to be well paid for his visit. he had to pass his own cabin on the way. he glanced toward it and saw a light shining through the window, but he took care to keep far enough away so that he might not be seen. half a mile farther and he stood opposite the cavern. there was the ladder making access to the cave easy. he looked for the hermit's boat, which was usually kept fastened near the entrance to the cave, and to his joy he saw that it was missing. "the old man must be out in his boat," he said to himself. "all the better for me! if i am quick, i may get through before he gets back." with a confident step he ascended the ladder and entered what might be called the vestibule of the cave. he halted there to light the candle he had brought with him. he was bending over, striking the match against his foot, when he was attacked from behind and almost stunned by a very heavy blow. he recovered himself sufficiently to grasp his assailant, and in an instant the two were grappling in fierce conflict. "i never thought the old man was so strong," passed through the fisherman's mind as he found himself compelled to use his utmost strength against his opponent. chapter xix a tragedy on the beach it is hardly necessary to say that the man with whom the fisherman was engaged in deadly conflict was not the hermit. it was the stranger who, in the tavern, had manifested so much curiosity on the subject of the rich residents of cook's harbor. he was a desperado from new york, who, being too well known to the police of that city, had found it expedient to seek a new field, where he would not excite suspicion. he had arrived at the cave only a few minutes before the fisherman and had already explored the inner room in search of the large sum of money which trafton had given him to understand the hermit kept on hand. he had no candle, but he found a lamp and lighted it. he was in the midst of his search when he heard the entrance of the fisherman. he concluded, very naturally, that it was the hermit, and he prepared himself for an attack. he instantly extinguished the lamp and stole out into the vestibule. it was his first thought to glide by the supposed hermit and escape, but this would cut him off from securing the booty of which he was in quest. he resolved upon a bolder course. he grappled with the newcomer, confident of easily overcoming a feeble old man, but, to his disagreeable surprise, he encountered a vigorous resistance far beyond what he anticipated. neither of the two uttered a word, but silently the fierce conflict continued. "i must be weak if i cannot handle an old man," thought the professional burglar, and he increased his efforts. "if he masters me and finds out who i am, i am lost!" thought john trafton; and he, too, put forth his utmost strength. the fisherman had the disadvantage in one respect. he was wholly unarmed and his opponent had a knife. when he found that trafton--who was of muscular build--was likely to gain the advantage, with a muttered oath he drew his knife and plunged it into his opponent's breast. they were struggling just on the verge of the precipice, and trafton, when he felt the blow, tottered and fell, his antagonist with him. "the old fool's dead, and i must fly," thought the burglar. with hasty step he fled along the sands till he came to a point where he could easily scale the cliff. reaching the top, he walked quickly away from cook's harbor. half an hour later the hermit beached his boat, fastened it and proceeded to his quarters. he was plunged in thought and observed nothing till he stumbled against the fisherman's body. "some drunken fellow probably," he said to himself. he lit a match, and, bending over, was horror-stricken to see the fixed features and the blood upon the garments of the unfortunate fisherman. "there has been murder here! who can it be?" he exclaimed. he lit another match and took a closer look. "as i live, it is trafton, robert's uncle!" he cried. "what mystery is here? how did the unhappy man come to his death?" he was not long left to wonder alone, for robert, as was not unusual with him, had been taking an evening stroll on the beach, and, seeing his employer, came up to speak to him. "good evening, sir," he said, as yet innocent of the sad knowledge which was soon to be his. "is anything the matter?" "robert," said the hermit solemnly, "prepare yourself for a terrible surprise. a man has been killed and that man is----" "my uncle!" exclaimed our hero in dismay. "yes, it is he!" "how did it happen, sir?" asked robert, a frightful suspicion entering his mind. "i know no better than you, my boy. i have just arrived from an evening trip on the water. i was about to enter my quarters when i stumbled over your uncle's body." "what could have brought him here?" "i cannot tell, nor can i conjecture who killed him." "it can't be he," thought robert, dismissing his fleeting suspicion. "what shall i do, sir?" he asked, unprepared, with his boyish inexperience, to decide what to do under such terrible circumstances. "go and summon some of your neighbors to carry the poor man to his home. meanwhile break the news to your aunt as you best can," said the hermit in a tone of quiet decision. "but should i not call the doctor?" "it will be of no avail. your uncle is past the help of any physician. go, and i will stay here till you return." the startling news which robert brought to the fishermen served to bring men, women and children to the spot where john trafton lay, ghastly with blood. well known as he was, the sight startled and agitated them, and, in their ignorance of the real murderer, suspicion fastened upon the hermit, who, tall and dignified, with his white hair falling upon his shoulders, stood among them like a being from another world. trafton's habits were well known, but the manner of his death enlisted public sympathy. "poor john!" said tom scott. "i've known him, man and boy, for a'most fifty years, and i never thought to see him lying like this." "and what will you do with his murderer?" asked his wife in a shrill voice. mrs. scott was somewhat of a virago, but she voiced the popular thought, and all looked to scott for an expression of feeling. "he ought to be strung up when he's found," said scott. "you won't have to look far for him, i'm thinkin'," said mrs. scott. "what do you mean, wife?" asked scott, who was not of a suspicious turn. "there he stands!" said the virago, pointing with her extended finger to the hermit. as this was a thought which had come to others, hostile eyes looked upon the hermit, and two or three moved forward as if to seize him. the old man regarded the fishermen with surprise and said with dignity: "my friends, what manner of man do you think i am that you suspect me of such a deed?" "there's no one could have done it but you," said a young man doggedly. "here lies trafton at the foot of your ladder, with no one near him but you. you was found with him. it's a clear case." "to be sure!" exclaimed two or three of the women. "didn't robert find you here, standin' by the dead body of his uncle?" the hermit turned to our hero, who stood a little in the background, and said quietly: "robert, do you think i killed your uncle?" "i am sure you didn't," said robert, manfully meeting the angry glances which were now cast upon him. "i am glad to have one friend here," said the hermit--"one who judges me better than the rest of my neighbors." "he doesn't know anything about you and he's only a boy!" said mrs. scott, thrusting herself forward with arms akimbo. "i allus said there was something wrong about you or you wouldn't hide yourself away from the sight of men in a cave. like as not you've committed murder before!" "my good woman," said the hermit with a sad smile, "i am sorry you have so poor an opinion of me." "don't you call me good woman!" said mrs. scott, provoked. "i'm no more a good woman than yourself! i tell you, friends and neighbors, you'll do wrong if you let this man go. we may all be murdered in our beds!" she was interrupted by the arrival of mrs. trafton, who had not been apprised of the tragedy from considerations for her feelings, but hearing the stir and excitement, had followed her neighbors to the spot and just ascertain what had happened. "where is my husband?" she cried. all made way for her, feeling that hers was the foremost place, and she stood with startled gaze before her dead husband. ill as he had provided for her and unworthy of her affections as he had proved, at that moment she forgot all but that the husband of her youth lay before her, bereft of life, and she kneeled, sobbing, at his side. the hermit took off his hat and stood reverently by her side. "oh, john!" she sobbed, "i never thought it would come to this! who could have had the heart to kill you?" "that's the man! he murdered him!" said mrs. scott harshly, pointing to the hermit. the widow lifted her eyes to the man of whom she had heard so much from robert with a glance of incredulity. he was too proud to defend himself from the coarse accusation and returned her look with a glance of sympathy and compassion. "i never can believe that!" said the widow in utter incredulity. "he has been kind to my boy. he never would lift his hand against my husband!" the hermit looked deeply gratified. "mrs. trafton," he said, "you are right. i had no cause to harm your husband, nor would i have killed him for robert's sake, whatever wrong he might have done me. but, in truth, i know of no reason why i should seek to injure him." "if you are an innocent man," persisted mrs. scott, "tell us who you are and what brought you here." "yes, tell us who you are!" echoed two others who had always felt curious about the hermit. "i do not choose to declare myself now," said the hermit gravely. "the time may come when i shall do so, but not now." "that's because you're a thief or murderer!" exclaimed mrs. scott, exasperated. "wife, you're goin' too far!" said her husband. "mind your own business, tom scott!" retorted his wife in a tone with which he was only too familiar. "you ought to be ashamed of yourself tryin' to screen the murderer of your next-door neighbor." "i am doing nothing of the kind. there's no proof that the hermit of the cliff murdered john trafton." "you must be a fool if you can't see it," said mrs. scott. robert coverdale was shocked to hear his friend so abused and he said boldly: "mrs. scott, i don't know who murdered my poor uncle, but i know the hermit did not. he has been a good friend to me, and he is no murderer." "go home and go to bed, boy!" said mrs. scott violently. "you take that man's part against your poor uncle." robert was provoked and answered with energy: "i would sooner suspect you than him. i never heard the hermit say a word against my uncle, while only yesterday you called him a drunken vagabond." this so turned the tables on mrs. scott that she was unable to return to the attack. "well, if i ever!" she ejaculated. "tom scott, are you goin' to see your wife sassed by a boy?" "it seems to me, wife, that the boy is in the right in this instance," answered tom, who had a sense of justice. "so you turn against your lawful wife, do you?" exclaimed mrs. scott violently. "i'll come up with you yet. see if i don't." tom scott shrugged his shoulders with resignation. "i've no doubt you will," he answered with a half smile. "my friends," said the hermit with calm dignity, "as it appears that some of you suspect me of this dastardly deed, i am quite willing to submit to any restraint you may desire till the groundlessness of the charge appears. you may leave a guard here in the cave or i will accompany you to any of your own houses. i certainly have no desire to escape while such suspicions are entertained." robert indignantly protested against such a step, but the hermit stayed his words. "robert," he said, "it is better. it will do me no harm, and, under the circumstances, while the matter is involved in mystery, i admit that it is perfectly justifiable and proper. my friends, i am in your hands. what will you do with me?" mrs. scott expressed her opinion that he should be strung up immediately, but no one seconded her. it was decided that two of the fishermen should remain at the cave that night to prevent any attempt at escape on the part of the hermit. the body of the murdered fisherman was carried to his own cabin and properly cared for till the coroner, who must be brought from a neighboring town, should make his appearance. chapter xx mr. jones makes a call when morning dawned a new face was put upon the matter. steps were discovered leading from the scene of the murder along the beach and up the cliff. there were also discovered signs of a struggle in the cave, and it became clear that there had been a conflict and that one of the two concerned had escaped. of course it could not have been the hermit, for he was now in custody. moreover, a fisherman who had been out in his boat in the evening remembered meeting the hermit rowing at about the time the murder must have been committed. these discoveries cleared the hermit, but the question arose: "who was this other man?" there was no difficulty in solving this question. there were plenty who remembered the stranger who had spent a part of the previous evening in the barroom of the tavern, and his evident curiosity as to the wealth of the hermit was also remembered. the real state of the case was now pretty well understood. this stranger had suddenly resolved to rob the hermit and had secretly found his way to the cavern. but how did he happen to find the fisherman there and what was the object of the latter? then it was remembered that trafton also had seemed much interested in the supposed hoards of the hermit, and, when his own want of money was considered, it was suspected that he, too, went on an errand similar to the burglar. but he was dead, and his neighbors, who knew that he must have yielded to the force of a sudden and new temptation, did not care to speculate upon his object. they were disposed to spare their old neighbor and charitably drop a veil over his attempted crime, which had brought upon him such fearful retribution. of course the hermit was released from custody, and there was not a person in the village who did not acquit him of all wrong except mrs. scott, who could not forgive him for proving her suspicions groundless. "you may say what you will," she said perversely, "i know the man's a burglar, or a murderer, or something else bad." "he couldn't have murdered john trafton, for we traced the murderer's steps on the beach. there is no doubt it was that stranger we saw in the barroom." so said her husband. "i don't care whether he murdered john trafton or not," said mrs. scott. "i'm sure he's murdered somebody, and i'm ready to take my bible oath of it." "what makes you so prejudiced against the poor man? he hasn't done you any harm, mrs. scott." "i don't like the airs he puts on. he looks at you jest as if you were dust beneath his feet. what right has he to look down upon honest people, i want to know?" but mrs. scott did not succeed in creating a prejudice against the hermit, whose courageous and dignified bearing had impressed all who observed his manner in this trying crisis. when the funeral was over the hermit called in the evening upon the widow of john trafton. it was the first he had ever made upon any of his neighbors and it excited surprise. robert brought forward the rocking-chair and invited the visitor cordially to sit down. "mrs. trafton," said the hermit, "i want to thank you and robert for the confidence you showed in me at a time when all others suspected me of a terrible deed. you were the ones most affected, yet you acquitted me in your hearts." "just for a moment i suspected you when i saw you standing by the dead body of my uncle," said robert, "but it was only for a moment." "i respect you for your fearless candor, my boy. you were justified in your momentary suspicion." "i am ashamed of it. you had been such a kind friend." "it was only natural. and now, my friends, what are your plans? how will you be able to maintain yourselves?" "i don't think it will make much difference," began robert hesitatingly. "my husband did very little for our support," said mrs. trafton. "not more, certainly, than his own food amounted to. you know, sir, i think robert must have told you the unfortunate habits of my poor husband. he was enslaved by drink, and he spent nearly all he earned in the barroom." "yes, i knew what your husband's habits were," said the hermit gently. "it is a great pity he could not have lived to change them." "i am afraid he never would," said the widow. "they had grown upon him from year to year, and he seemed to get weaker and weaker in purpose." "i had a brother who was equally unfortunate," said the hermit. "there are few families who are wholly free from the evils of intemperance. but have you formed any plans?" "i suppose we can get along as we have," answered mrs. trafton. "with what you kindly pay robert, and what he can pick up elsewhere, and the sewing i do, i think we can get along." "do you own this cottage?" inquired the hermit. "yes, sir." "then you will have no rent to pay." "no, i don't know how we could do that." the hermit looked thoughtful. "i will see you again," he said as he rose to go. on the whole, mrs. trafton and robert were likely to get along as well as before john trafton's death. robert could use his uncle's boat for fishing, selling what they did not require, while regularly every week two dollars came in from the hermit. it was a great source of relief that no rent must be paid. the fisherman's cabin and lot originally cost about five hundred dollars and the household furniture was of little value. the taxes were small and could easily be met. so there seemed nothing to prevent their living on in the same way as before. some time robert hoped and expected to leave cook's harbor. he was a smart, enterprising, ambitious boy, and he felt that he would like a more stirring life in a larger place. he was not ashamed of the fisherman's business, but he felt qualified for something better. it did not escape his notice that most of his neighbors were illiterate men, who had scarcely a thought beyond the success of their fishing trips, and he had already entered so far into the domain of study and books as to feel the charm of another world--the great world of knowledge--which lay spread out before him and beckoned him onward. but he was not impatient. "my duty at present," he reflected, "is to stay in cook's harbor and take care of my aunt. i am young and strong, and i don't mean that she shall want for any comforts which i can get for her." he soon learned, however, that there was one great mistake in his calculations. robert was sitting by the door reading, after his return from a fishing trip, about a week after his uncle's funeral, when he heard the steps of some one approaching. looking up, he saw advancing toward their humble residence the stout, ponderous figure of nahum jones, the landlord of the village inn. it was not often that mr. jones found his way to the beach. usually he kept close to the tavern, unless he rode to some neighboring town. therefore robert was surprised to see him. nahum jones nodded slightly, and, taking off his straw hat, wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "here, you, bob," he said, "is your aunt at home?" "yes, sir!" answered robert, but not cordially, for he felt that mr. jones had been no friend of his uncle. "well, tell her i've come to have a talk with her, do you hear?" "yes, i hear," answered the boy coolly. he rose from his chair and entered the house. "aunt jane," he said, "here is mr. jones come to see you." "what? the tavern keeper?" asked his aunt in great surprise. "yes, aunt." "what can that man want of me?" the question was answered, not by robert but by nahum jones himself. "i want to have a little talk with you, ma'am," said the burly landlord, entering without an invitation and seating himself unceremoniously. "i will listen to what you have to say, mr. jones," said the widow, "but i will not pretend that i am glad to see you. you were an enemy to my poor husband." "i don't know what you mean, mrs. trafton. did he ever tell you that i was his enemy?" "no, but it was you who sold him liquor and took the money which he should have spent on his own family." "all nonsense, ma'am. you women are the most unreasonable creatures. i didn't ask him to drink." "you tempted him to do it." "i deny it!" said the landlord warmly. "i couldn't refuse to sell him what he asked for, could i? you must be a fool to talk so!" said the landlord roughly. "i'll trouble you to speak respectfully to my aunt, mr. jones," said robert with flashing eyes. "mind your own business, you young rascal!" said nahum jones, whose temper was not of the best. "i mean to," retorted robert. "my business is to protect my aunt from being insulted." "wait till you're a little bigger, boy," said jones with a sneer. robert involuntarily doubled up his fist and answered: "i mean to protect her now." "mrs. trafton," said nahum jones, highly irritated, "you'd better silence that young cub or i may kick him out of doors!" "you appear to forget that you are not in your own house, nahum jones," said the widow with dignity. "my nephew has acted perfectly right and only spoke as he should." "so you sustain him in his impudence, do you?" snarled jones, showing his teeth. "if that is all you have come to say to me, mr. jones, you may as well go." "by george, ma'am, you are mighty independent!" "i am not dependent on the man who ruined my poor husband." "no, but you're dependent on me!" exclaimed the landlord, pounding the floor forcibly with his cane. "will you explain yourself, sir?" "i will," said mr. jones emphatically. "you talk about my not being in my own house, but it's just possible you are mistaken." "what do you mean?" asked mrs. trafton, startled. "i mean this, that i hold a mortgage on this house for two hundred dollars, and that's as much as it will fetch at auction. what do you say to that?" robert looked and felt as much troubled as his aunt. on his young shoulders fell this new burden, and he was at an utter loss what could be done. "i thought i'd shut you up, you young cub!" said the landlord, glancing maliciously at robert. "you haven't shut me up!" retorted robert with spirit. "what have you got to say, hey?" "that you ought to be ashamed to take all my uncle's earnings and then steal his home. that's what i've got to say!" "i've a great mind to give you a caning," said mr. jones in a rage. "you'd better not!" said robert. he was as tall as the landlord, and though not as strong, considerably more active, and he did not feel in the least frightened. nahum jones was of a choleric disposition, and his face was purple with rage, but he hadn't yet said all he intended. "i give you warning, mrs. trafton," he said, shaking his cane at our hero, "that i'm going to foreclose this mortgage and turn you into the street. you've got yourself to thank, you and this young rascal. i came here thinking i'd be easy with you, but i don't mean to stand your insulting talk. i'll give you four weeks to raise the money, and if you don't do it, out you go, bag and baggage. perhaps when you're in the poorhouse you may be sorry you didn't treat me better." "oh, robert, what shall we do?" asked the poor woman, her courage failing as she reflected on the possibility that the landlord's prediction might be fulfilled. "don't be alarmed, aunt jane; i'll take care of you," said robert more cheerfully than he felt. "oh, you will, will you?" sneered mr. jones. "anybody'd think to hear you that you were worth a pile of money. if your aunt depends on you to keep her out of the poorhouse, i would not give much for her chance." "you won't have the satisfaction of seeing either of us there," said robert defiantly. "you needn't expect my wife to give you any more sewing," said mr. jones, scowling at the widow. "i don't think my aunt wants any, considering she hasn't been paid for the last work she did," said robert. "what do you mean by that? i credited your uncle with twenty-five cents on his score." "without my aunt's consent." mr. jones was so incensed at the defiant mien of the boy that he rocked violently to and fro--so violently that the chair, whose rockers were short, tipped over backward and the wrathful landlord rolled ignominiously on the floor. "here's you hat, mr. jones," said robert, smiling in spite of himself as he picked it up and restored it to the mortified visitor. "you'll hear from me!" roared the landlord furiously, aiming a blow at robert and leaving the room precipitately. "you'll repent this day, see if you don't!" after he had left the room robert and his aunt looked at each other gravely. they had made an enemy out of a man who could turn them out of doors. the future looked far from bright. chapter xxi the hermit's secret mr. jones, in his anger at robert, regretted that he must wait four weeks before he could turn him and his aunt out of the house. it would be a great satisfaction to him to see the boy without a roof to shelter him, reduced to becoming a tramp or to take refuge in the poorhouse. "by george, i'll humble the young beggar's pride!" exclaimed mr. jones as he hastened homeward from his unsatisfactory interview. it must be admitted that robert had not been exactly respectful, but, on the other hand, it is quite certain that the landlord had been rude and rough in manner and speech. why, then, did not mr. jones foreclose the mortgage instantly and gratify his resentment? because in the instrument there was a proviso requiring a notice of four weeks. however, he felt that it would make little difference. "they can't raise the money in four weeks," he reflected. "there's nobody round here who will lend them the money, and they don't know anybody anywhere else." so, on the whole, he was satisfied. four weeks would soon pass, and then his thirst for revenge would be sated. "what makes you so sober, my boy?" asked the hermit when robert made his regular call upon him the next day. "i feel anxious," answered the boy. "but why need you? you told me your uncle did very little for the family. i think you will be able to take care of your aunt. if not, i will help you more." "thank you, sir; you are very kind. but we thought when you called the other day that we owned the house and would have no rent to pay." "were you mistaken about this?" asked the hermit quickly. "it seems so. mr. jones, the tavern keeper, has a mortgage on the property and threatens to foreclose in four weeks unless the money is paid. of course, we can't pay him, and i suppose we shall be turned out." "how large is this mortgage?" "two hundred dollars." "that is not a very great sum." "it is very large to us. you know how poor we are." "but have you no friend who will lend you the money?" "no, sir." "are you sure of that?" asked the hermit with a peculiar smile, which inspired new hope in robert. then, without waiting for a reply, the man continued: "if you are willing, i will pay this mortgage when the time comes, and i will be your creditor instead of mr. jones." "how can i thank you?" exclaimed robert joyfully. "my aunt will be delighted." "tell her then, but no one else. it will give mr. jones a surprise." "it won't be a pleasant one. he was very rude and impolite and said he hoped to see us in the poorhouse." "i don't believe you will ever go there, robert," said the hermit, looking earnestly at the strong, energetic face of the boy before him. "no, sir, i don't believe we will. but you are doing a great deal for us, sir. how can i ever repay you? if there was anything i could do for you i should be glad." "perhaps you can," said the hermit in a musing tone. "let me know what it is, sir, and i'll be glad to do it." "have you ever wondered," asked the hermit abruptly, "why i have left the haunts of men and retired to this out-of-the-way spot?" "yes, sir. i have thought of that often." "your curiosity is natural. i am not a poor man--in fact i should be called rich. poverty and pecuniary troubles, therefore, have nothing to do with my strange act--as the world considers it. in my life there have been two tragedies. i was married, at the age of thirty, to a very beautiful young lady, whom i tenderly loved. i made my home in a city of considerable size and lived as my means warranted. one evening, as my wife stood before the open grate, dressed for a party, her dress caught fire, and before help could arrive she was fatally injured. of course the blow was a terrible one. but i had a child--a boy of five--on whom my affections centered. a year later he mysteriously disappeared, and from that day i have never heard a word of him. when search proved unavailing, i became moody and a settled melancholy took possession of me. i could not endure the sight of other parents happy in the possession of children, and i doomed myself to a solitary life, wandering here and there till, two years since, i chanced to find this cave and made my home here." "how old would your son be now?" asked robert with interest. "about your own age--perhaps a little older. it was this and a fancied resemblance which attracted me toward you." "had you any suspicion that your son was stolen?" asked robert. "yes. in particular i suspected a cousin who would be my probable heir in case my boy died. but i could never prove anything, and the man expressed so much sympathy that i was ashamed to avow any suspicions. but charles waldo was a covetous man, insatiable in his greed of money and absolutely cold and unsympathetic, though his manner was plausible. he hoped that this second blow would kill me, but he has been disappointed." "if the boy is living, perhaps he knows where he is," said robert. "if he abducted him--yes. he would not kill him, for he is too cautious a man and has too great fear of the law." "where is mr. waldo now living?" "in ohio. he has a large farm and a moderate amount of money invested--some twenty thousand dollars perhaps--so that he is able to live at ease. he was disappointed because i would not give him the charge of my property, but with the lingering suspicion in my mind i could not make up my mind to do it. he also sought a loan of ten thousand dollars, which i refused." "how then does he expect to be your heir?" asked robert. "two-thirds of my property is entailed and must be left to him if my boy is dead." "if he really stole your son, he must be a wicked man," said robert with boyish indignation at the thought. "yes, for he has wrecked two lives--mine and my boy's." "have you no hope of ever again seeing your son?" "only a slight one. i have thought of a plan in which i need your help." "if i can help you, sir," said robert heartily, "i will do so gladly." "i do not doubt it, robert," said the hermit kindly. "i will explain my meaning. if charles waldo knows anything of my lost boy, he must, from time to time, hold communication with him, and if he is watched he may some day reveal his hiding place." "why do you not go out to where he lives and watch him?" "it would do no good. it would only put him on his guard. i intend this office for you." "for me?" exclaimed robert in amazement. "yes, you are young, but you have natural ability, and shrewdness. at any rate, you are the only one i have to send. it is a desperate chance, but i shall feel better satisfied when i have tried it." "i will follow your instructions whenever you wish," said robert, his heart beating at the prospect of seeing something of that world of which he had seen so little and heard so much. "my instructions will be few. i must trust much to your shrewdness. you will need to visit the town where my cousin lives to observe his habits and any unusual visitors he may have--in fact, try to arrive at the knowledge of the secret, if there is one, connected with my boy's disappearance." "what was your son's name?" "julian huet. my own name is gilbert huet, but this information is for your ear alone." "i will not mention it, sir." "you need not feel anxious about leaving your aunt. i will see that her wants are provided for during your absence." "thank you, sir." "and the mortgage shall be paid when it comes due." "i wish i could be here to see mr. jones disappointed." "you can hardly be back so soon. it may take you six months. the task is one that will require time. by the way, i do not wish you to mention to your aunt the nature of your errand. merely tell her that you are traveling on business for me." "very well, sir. how soon do you wish me to start?" "at the beginning of next week." "i am afraid, sir, i have no clothes that are fit to wear," said robert with hesitation. "you will provide yourself in boston with a suitable outfit. you will be supplied with an ample sum of money, and i will instruct my bankers to honor any drafts you may make." "you will be spending a great deal of money for me, mr. huet." "i am rich, and living as i have each year this made me richer. i will not grudge ten, twenty, fifty thousand dollars if you find my boy or bring me a clew which will lead to his discovery." robert was dazzled. it was evident that the hermit must be very rich. he walked home in high spirits. he was on the eve of an exciting journey and he enjoyed the prospect. chapter xxii two persons are surprised "aunt," said robert, his face aglow with excitement, "i am going to make a journey. i hope you won't feel lonely while i am away." "a journey!" exclaimed mrs. trafton in astonishment. "yes, i am going away on business for the hermit." "where are you going?" "to boston first." "to boston? land's sake! how can a boy like you find your way round in such a great city as boston?" "a boy of my age ought to be able to take care of himself." "why, child, you'll lose your way! there's ever so many streets and roads. i went to boston once, and i got so puzzled i didn't know whether i stood on my head or my heels. if there was some older person going with you, now----" "aunt, don't make a baby of me. i guess i can get along as well as anybody." "well, you can try it. when will you be back?" "when i get my business done." "you won't be gone over two days, i calculate." "i may be gone two months or more." "well, i never!" exclaimed the astonished woman, staring at robert as if she thought his mind was wandering. "what sort of business is it that's going to take so long?" "the hermit wants it kept secret, aunt jane." "but how am i going to get along without you?" asked his aunt in dismay. "i can't go out fishing, and the money i earn by sewing is almost nothing." robert smiled, for he knew he could allay his aunt's fears. "the hermit will pay you five dollars a week while i am gone, and here is the first week's pay," he said, drawing from his pocket a bill. "well, i must say your friend the hermit is a gentleman. five dollars a week is more than i can spend." "then save a part of it if you like, aunt." "but what shall i do, robert, if mr. jones comes upon me to pay the mortgage when you arc gone?" said his aunt, with new alarm. "the hermit has agreed to pay off the mortgage and take one himself for the same amount." "he is very kind, robert. don't you think that i ought to call and thank him?" "what! call at the cave?" "yes!" "no, aunt," said robert hastily. "he would not like to have you. you can wait till you see him. but mind you don't tell anybody--least of all, mr. jones--that you will be able to pay the mortgage. as he is so mean, we want to give him a surprise." "just as you say, robert. i am glad we'll be able to disappoint him, for he is certainly a very mean man. now, when do you want to start for boston?" "to-morrow." "but how am i going to get ready your shirts and socks so soon?" "i shall not take any of them." "robert coverdale, you must be crazy. you can't wear one shirt for two months if you're going so long." "i don't expect to, aunt," said the boy, smiling. "i am going to buy a whole outfit of new things when i get to boston. the hermit wants me to." "he must be awful rich!" said the good woman, whose ideas on the subject of wealth were limited. "all the better for us, aunt jane, as he is willing to spend some of his money for us." mrs. trafton was considerably excited by the prospect of robert's journey, and, notwithstanding what he had said, occupied herself in washing his clothes and making a small bundle for him to carry, but robert declined taking them, with a smile. "you see, aunt, my clothes wouldn't be good enough to wear in boston," he said. "just keep them till i get back. perhaps i may need them then." "i'll lay 'em away carefully, robert. when you get a little larger i guess you'll be able to wear some of your uncle's clothes. his best suit might be made over for you. he hadn't had it but six years, and there's a good deal of wear in it yet. i might cut it over myself when you're gone." "better wait till i come back, aunt," said robert hastily. he knew the suit very well. it was snuff-colored and by no means a good fit, even for his uncle, while under his aunt's unpracticed hands it would probably look considerably worse when made over for him. it must be confessed that robert's ideas were expanding and he was rapidly growing more fastidious. he instinctively felt that he was about to turn a new leaf in his book of life and to enter on new scenes, in which he was to play a less obscure part than had been his hitherto in the little village of cook's harbor. but no such change had come to his aunt. she still regarded robert as the same boy that he always had been--born to the humble career of a fisherman--and she examined her husband's best suit with much complacency, mentally resolving that, in spite of robert's objection, she would devote her leisure time to making it over for him. "he can wear it for best for a year or two," she thought, "and then put it on every day. i am sure it will look well on him." in the evening robert went to the cave to have a farewell interview with the hermit--or gilbert huet, to give him the name which was properly his. "you may write to me about once a week if you have anything to say, robert," said the hermit. "how shall i direct you, sir? shall i use your name?" "how am i known in the village?" "they call you 'the hermit of the cliff.'" "then direct your letters to 'the hermit of the cliff.' they are not likely to go astray." mr. huet gave robert his instructions and finally produced a roll of banknotes. "you will find two hundred dollars in this roll, robert," he said. "you can buy a wallet to keep it in when you reach boston." "two hundred dollars!" exclaimed the boy in amazement. "you won't find it so large a sum as you suppose when you are required to pay traveling expenses. you need not try to be over-economical. i prefer that you should stop at good hotels and put on a good appearance. but i warn you to keep your mouth shut and tell your business to no one. i depend upon your discretion not to fall into the hands of knaves or adventurers. i know that i am putting unusual confidence in a boy of your limited experience, but i have no one else to trust, and i feel that you may be relied upon." "i hope i shall not disappoint you, mr. huet." "well, robert, i will bid you good night and god bless you! we don't know what lies before us, but if you succeed, i will take care that your career shall be a fortunate one." robert walked slowly back to his humble home, almost wishing that the night were over and his journey actually begun. there was but one way out of cook's harbor--that is, by land. a stage left the village every morning for kaneville, six miles distant, a small station on a road which terminated many miles away in boston. the stage started at seven o'clock, so robert was forced to get up betimes, take an early breakfast and walk up to the tavern. mr. jones, the landlord, was standing on the piazza when robert made his appearance. he had no proprietary right in the stage line, but the driver generally stopped overnight at the tavern and the horses were kept in his stable, so that he had come to assume a certain air of proprietorship. as robert was climbing up to take a seat by the driver mr. jones, with a frown, called out: "look here, you young rascal, come right down!" "why am i to come down, mr. jones?" said robert independently. "because i tell you to. we can't have any boys stealing rides." "is this stage yours?" asked robert, surveying the landlord with provoking coolness. "no matter whether it is or not," retorted jones, red in the face. "i tell you to come down. do you hear?" "yes, i hear." "then you'd better come down double quick or i'll give you a taste of a horsewhip." "i advise you to mind your own business, mr. jones," said robert hotly, "and not interfere with the passengers by this stage." "you're not a passenger, you young beggar!" "i am a passenger--and now you'd better stop talking." "have you got money to pay your fare?" asked the landlord, beginning to suspect he had made a fool of himself. "when the driver calls for the fare it will be time enough to tell." "luke," said mr. jones to the driver, "you'd better take that boy's fare now. he wants to swindle you out of a ride." "you may take it out of this," said robert, tendering a five-dollar bill. "i guess we'll let it stand till we get to kaneville," said luke, gathering up the reins. robert darted a glance of triumph at the discomfited and bewildered landlord, and his journey was begun. the latter, on luke's return, learned to his further surprise that robert had gone to boston. on reflection, he concluded that mrs. trafton must have some relatives in the city from whom they hoped to borrow enough money to raise the mortgage. "but he won't succeed, and in four weeks i shall turn him and his aunt out of doors," mr. jones complacently reflected. chapter xxiii an unpleasant surprise when robert arrived in boston he was at first bewildered by the noise and bustle to which, in the quiet fishing village, he was quite unaccustomed. all that he knew about the city was the names of the principal streets. it was not necessary, however, that he should go in any particular direction. he decided, therefore, to walk along, keeping a good lookout, and, when he saw a clothing store, to go in and provide a new outfit. he was sensible that he was by no means dressed in city style. his clothes were coarse, and being cut and made by his aunt--who, though an excellent woman, was by no means an excellent tailor--looked countrified and outlandish. the first hint robert had of this was when two well-dressed boys, meeting him, simultaneously burst out laughing. robert was sensitive, but he was by no means bashful or timid. accordingly he stepped up to the boys and demanded with kindling eyes: "are you laughing at me?" "oh, no, of course not," answered one of the boys, rolling his tongue in his cheek. "certainly not, my dear fellow," said the other, winking. "i think you were," said robert firmly. "do you see anything to laugh at in me?" "well, to tell the truth," said the first boy, "we were wondering whether you import your clothes from paris or london." "oh, that's it," said robert good-humoredly, for he was aware that his clothes were of strange cut. "my clothes were made in the country and i don't think much of them myself. if you'd tell me where i can get some better ones i will buy a suit." the boys were not bad-hearted and were won over by robert's good humor. "you're a good fellow," said the first speaker, "and i am sorry i was rude enough to laugh at you. there is a store where i think you can find what you want." he pointed to a clothing store. in front of which was a good display of ready-made clothing. "thank you," said robert. he entered and the boys walked on. if robert had been better dressed he would have received immediate attention. as it was, he looked like a poor boy in want of work and not at all like a customer. so, at all events, decided a dapper-looking clerk whose attention was drawn to the new arrival. "well, boy, what do you want?" he demanded roughly, approaching robert. "civil treatment to begin with," answered robert with spirit. "if you've come for a place, we don't want any scarecrows here." it appears that the firm had advertised for an errand boy that very morning, and it was naturally supposed that robert was an applicant. "are you the owner of this shop?" asked robert coolly. "no," answered the clerk, lowering his tone a little. "i thought so. i'll tell my business to somebody else." "you'd better not put on airs!" said the clerk angrily. "you are the one who is putting on airs," retorted robert. "what's the matter here?" asked a portly gentleman, walking up to the scene of the altercation. "i was telling this boy that he would not do for the place," answered the clerk. "i believe, mr. turner, that you are not commissioned to make a selection," said the gentleman. and turner retired, discomfited. "so you want a place?" he said inquiringly to robert. "no, sir, i don't." "mr. turner said you did." "i never told him so." "here, turner," said the gentleman. "why did you tell me this boy wanted a place?" "i supposed he did. he looked like it, sir." "i don't want a place. i want to buy a suit of clothes," said robert. "if that young man hadn't treated me so rudely, i should have asked him to show me some." "look here, mr. turner," said the gentleman sternly, "if you have no more sense than to insult our customers, we can dispense with your services. mr. conway, will you wait on this young man?" turner was mortified and slunk away, beginning to understand that it is not always safe to judge a man or boy by the clothes he wears. mr. conway was more of a gentleman and civilly asked robert to follow him. "what kind of a suit would you like?" he added. "a pretty good one," answered robert. he was shown several suits and finally selected one of gray mixed cloth of excellent quality. "that is one of our most expensive suits," said conway doubtfully. "will it wear well?" "it will wear like iron." "then i will take it. how much will it cost?" conway named the price. robert would have hesitated about paying so much, but that he was acting under instructions from the hermit. "shall we send it to you anywhere?" asked mr. conway, a little surprised at robert's readiness to pay so high a price. "no, i should like to put it on here." "you can do so--that is, after paying for it." robert drew out a wallet and from his roll of bills took out sufficient to pay for the new suit. mr. conway went to the cashier's desk. the two had a conversation together. then the stout gentleman was called to the desk. robert saw them open a copy of a morning paper and read a paragraph, looking at him after reading it. he wondered what it all meant. presently conway came back and asked him to walk up to the desk. robert did so, wonderingly. "you seem to have a good deal of money with you," commenced the stout gentleman. "yes, sir," answered robert composedly. "a great deal of money for a boy dressed as you are," continued the speaker pointedly. robert began to understand now, and he replied proudly: "do you generally ask your customers how much money they have?" "no, but yours is a peculiar case." "the money is mine--that is, i have a right to spend it. i am acting under orders from the gentleman who employs me." "who is that?" "no one that you would know. he lives at cook's harbor. but i didn't come in here to answer questions. if you don't want to sell me a suit of clothes, i will go somewhere else." "to be plain with you, my boy," said the stout gentleman, not unkindly, "we are afraid that you have no right to this money. the _herald_ of this morning gives an account of a boy who has run away from a town in new hampshire with three hundred dollars belonging to a farmer. you appear to be the age mentioned." "i never stole a dollar in my life," said robert indignantly. "it may be so, but i feel it a duty to put you in charge of the police, who will investigate the matter. james, call an officer." robert realized that he was in an unpleasant situation. it would be hard to prove that the money in his hands was really at his disposal. help came from an unexpected quarter. a young man, fashionably dressed, had listened to the conversation of which robert was the subject. he came forward promptly, saying: "there is no occasion to suspect this boy. he is all right." "do you know him?" asked the proprietor politely. "yes, i know him well. he is in the employ of a gentleman at cook's harbor, as he says. you can safely sell him the clothes." the young man spoke so positively that all suspicion was removed. "i am glad to learn that it is all right," said the clothing merchant. "my young friend, i am sorry to have suspected you. we shall be glad to sell you the suit, and to recompense you for the brief inconvenience we will take off two dollars from the price." "thank you, sir." "it would not do for us to receive stolen money, hence our caution." robert did not bear malice, and he accepted the apology and dressed himself in the suit referred to, which very much changed his appearance for the better. in fact, but for his hat and shoes, he looked like a city boy of a well-to-do family. he felt fortunate in getting off so well, but he was puzzled to understand where he could have met the young man who professed to know him so well. he left the store, but almost immediately was tapped on the shoulder by the young man in question. "i got you off well, didn't i?" said the young man with a wink. "i am much obliged to you, sir," said robert. "you don't seem to remember me," continued the young man, winking again. "no, sir." "good reason why. i never saw you in my life before nor you me." "but i thought you said you had met me at cook's harbor?" said robert in surprise. the young man laughed. "only way to get you off. you'd have been marched off by a policeman if i hadn't." this seemed rather irregular to our hero. still he knew that he was innocent of any wrongdoing, and as the young man appeared to have acted from friendly motives he thanked him again. "that's all very well," said the young man, "but, considering the scrape i've saved you from, i think you ought to give me at least twenty-five dollars." "but the money isn't mine," said robert, opening his eyes, for he could hardly have expected an application for money from a young man so fashionably dressed. "of course it isn't," said the young man, winking again. "it belongs to the man you took it from. i'm fairly entitled to a part. so just give me twenty-five and we'll call it square." "if you mean that i stole the money, you're quite mistaken," said robert indignantly. "it belongs to my employer." "just what i thought," said the other. "but i have a right to spend it. i am doing just as he told me to do." "come, young fellow, that won't go down! it's too thin!" said the young man, his countenance changing. "you don't take me in so easily. just hand over twenty-five dollars or i'll hand you over to the police! there's one coming!" robert certainly did not care to have the threat executed, but he did not choose to yield. "if you do," he said, "i'll tell him that you did it because i would not give you twenty-five dollars." this did not strike his new acquaintance as desirable, since it would be, in effect, charging him with blackmail. moreover, he could bring nothing tangible against our young hero. he changed his tone therefore. "i don't want to harm you," he said, "but i deserve something for getting you out of a scrape. you might spare me five dollars." "i got my suit two dollars cheaper through what you said," said robert. "i'll give you that sum." "well, that will do," said the other, finding the country boy more unmanageable than he expected. "i ought to have more, but i will call it square on that." robert drew a two-dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to the stranger. "that i can give," he said, "because it was part of the price of my suit." "all right. good morning!" said the young man, and, thrusting the bill into his vest pocket, he walked carelessly away. robert looked after him with a puzzled glance. "i shouldn't think a young man dressed like that could be in want of money," he reflected. "i am afraid he told a lie on my account, but i thought at the time he had really seen me, even if i couldn't remember him." soon robert came to a hat store, where he exchanged his battered old hat for one of fashionable shape, and a little later his cowhide shoes for a pair of neat calfskin. he surveyed himself now with natural satisfaction, for he was as well dressed as his friend herbert irving. he had by this time reached washington street and had just passed milk street when he met george randolph, who looked as consequential and conceited as ever. "good morning, george," said robert. george looked at him doubtfully. how could he suppose that the boy before him, dressed as well as himself, was the poor fisher boy of cook's harbor? "i don't seem to remember you," said george civilly. robert smiled. "you met me at cook's harbor," he explained. "i am robert coverdale." "what! not the young fisherman?" ejaculated george incredulously. "the same." "you haven't come into a fortune, have you? what brings you here?" demanded the city boy in great amazement. "i am in the city on business. no, i haven't come into a fortune, but i am better off than i was. can you recommend me a good hotel?" "i don't know about the cheap hotels." "i don't care for a cheap hotel. i want a good one." more and more surprised, george said: "you might go to young's." "i will go there. thank you for telling me." "i don't understand how a boy like you can afford to go to such a hotel as that," said george, looking very much puzzled. "no, i suppose not," returned robert, smiling. "if you don't mind telling me----" "i am sorry i can't, but my errand is a secret one. "did my uncle send you?" "no, neither he nor herbert knows of my coming. i didn't have time to see herbert before i came away." "are you going to stay long in boston?" "no, i think not. i am going to new york or albany." "it seems queer to me." "very likely. good-by! thank you for directing me." george had been remarkably civil, but in a boy like him that is easily explained. he was civil, not to robert, but to his new suit and his new prosperity. "it's the strangest thing i ever heard of," he muttered as he walked away. "why, the young fisherman is dressed as well as i am!" chapter xxiv on long island sound had he possessed plenty of leisure, robert would have been glad to remain in boston long enough to see the principal objects of interest in the city and its vicinity, but he never for a moment forgot that his time was not his own. he had entered the service of the hermit, and every day's delay was so much additional expense to his employer. true, gilbert huet was a rich man, as he had himself acknowledged, but robert was conscientious, and felt that this would not justify him in gratifying himself at the expense of the man who had so trusted him. robert felt proud of this trust--this very unusual proof of confidence in a boy so young and inexperienced as he was--and he was ambitious to justify it. i am sure, therefore, that he would have had little satisfaction in postponing it out of regard to his own pleasure. there were two ways of going to the west, which, it will be remembered, was his destination--by the way of albany or new york city. finding that it would not matter much how he went, robert decided upon the latter. it would enable him to see the great city of which he had heard so much, and who knows but, in this great metropolis, which swallows up so many, he might hear something of the lost boy? he decided, therefore, to go at once to new york, and, after some inquiry, he fixed upon the fall river route. this includes railroad travel to fall river, a distance of about fifty miles, where the traveler embarks on a great steamer and arrives in new york after a night on long island sound. guided by an advertisement in the daily papers, robert made his way to the old state house, at the head of state street, and, entering the office of the steamboat line, asked for a ticket. "will you take a stateroom also?" asked the clerk. "is that necessary?" asked robert, who was unused to traveling. "no, it's not necessary. your ticket will entitle you to a comfortable berth, but in a stateroom you have greater privacy." "what is a stateroom?" asked our hero. the clerk was rather surprised by this question, but decided that robert was not accustomed to traveling and answered politely enough: "it is very much like a room in a hotel, only much smaller. there is a berth and a washstand, and you can lock yourself in. there is greater security against robbery, for you hold the key and no one can enter it without your knowledge." as robert carried considerable money belonging to mr. huet, he felt that he ought to take this precaution, if it were not too expensive. "how much must i pay for a stateroom?" he asked. "you can get a good one for a dollar." "then i will take one." "number fifty-six," said the clerk, handing him a card with the number penciled on it. "what's your name?" "robert coverdale." so robert walked out of the office with his passage engaged. this was on the morning after his arrival, and as the steamboat train did not start till afternoon, this afforded him a chance to spend several hours in seeing the city. first he went to the common and walked across it, surveying with interest the large and noble trees which add so much beauty to a park which, in size, is insignificant compared with the great parks of new york and philadelphia, but appears older and more finished than either. he rode in various directions in the cars and enjoyed the varied sights that passed under his notice. at half-past four he paid his bill at the hotel and took a car which passed the depot from which the steamboat train for new york starts. the train was an express, and in little more than an hour he boarded the beautiful sound steamer. he was astonished at its magnificence as he went upstairs to the main saloon. as he was looking about him in rather a bewildered way a colored man employed on the boat inquired: "what are you looking for, young man?" "where shall i get a key to my stateroom?" he was told, and, opening the door, he found himself in a comfortable little room with two berths. "i can pass the night here very pleasantly," he thought. "there is some difference between sleeping here and on a sailboat." once, in company with his uncle, he had been compelled to pass the night on the ocean in a small sailboat used for fishing purposes. robert left his valise in the stateroom and went into the saloon. a gong was heard, which he found was the announcement of supper. it was now past seven o'clock and he felt hungry. he accordingly followed the crowd downstairs and ate a hearty meal. when he went upstairs again the band soon began to play and helped to while away the time. some of the passengers read papers, others read books and magazines, while others from the outer decks watched the progress of the large boat as it swiftly coursed over the waves. in this last company was robert. without being aware of it, our hero attracted the notice of one of his fellow passengers, a man possibly of thirty-five, tall and thin and dressed in black. finally he accosted robert. "a fine evening!" he remarked. "yes, sir, very fine." "you are going to new york, i suppose?" "yes, sir." "do you tarry there?" "not long. i am going to ohio." "you seem young to travel alone. perhaps, however, you have company?" "no, sir," robert answered. "i am traveling alone." there was a look of satisfaction on the man's face, which robert did not see. even if he had he would not have known how to interpret it. "it is pleasant to go to new york by boat," said the stranger. "i prefer it to the cars; that is, when i can get a stateroom. did you secure one?" "yes, sir." "you are more fortunate than i. i found they had all been taken. i would not care so much if i were not suffering from fever and ague." "i suppose you have a berth?" said robert. "yes, but the berths are exposed to draughts and are not as desirable as staterooms." robert did not know that, so far from this being the case, the great fault of the ordinary berths was a lack of air. "i suppose your stateroom contains two berths?" said the stranger. "yes, i believe so." "i may be taking a liberty, but i have a proposal to make. if you will allow me to occupy one of them i will pay half the cost of your room. it would oblige me very much, but i would not ask if i were not sick." robert did not entirely like this proposal. he preferred to be alone. still he was naturally obliging, and he hardly knew how to refuse this favor to a sick man. "i see you hesitate," said the stranger. "pray think no more of my request. i would not mind paying the entire cost of the room, if you will take me in. it cost you a dollar, did it not?" "yes, sir." "then," said the man, drawing a dollar bill from his pocketbook, "allow me to pay for it and share it with you." "i ought not to be selfish," thought robert. "i would rather be alone, but if this man is sick i think i will let him come in with me." he so expressed himself, and the other thanked him warmly and pressed the dollar upon him. "no," said robert, "i can't take so much. you may pay for your share--fifty cents." "you are very kind," murmured the other. and, replacing the bill in his pocketbook, he took out a half dollar and tendered it to our hero. half an hour later both repaired to stateroom no. . as they entered the room the stranger glanced at the two berths and said: "it is only fair that you should occupy the best berth." "which is the best berth?" asked robert. "the lower one is generally so considered," said the other. "it is a little wider and it is less trouble to get into it. i will take the upper one." "no," said robert generously. "you are sick and ought to have the best. i am perfectly well, and i shan't mind climbing into the upper one." "but it seems so selfish in me," protested the stranger, "to step into your stateroom and take the best accommodations." "not if i am willing," responded robert cheerfully. "so it is all settled." "how kind you are!" murmured the invalid. "though we have met so recently, i cannot help feeling toward you as if you were my younger brother." robert thanked him, but could hardly reciprocate the feeling. in truth, he had taken no fancy to the man whom he had accepted as roommate and was only influenced by compassion for his reported sickness. they undressed and retired to their berths. as the stranger was about to step into his he said: "it is only fair to tell you my name. i am called mortimer fairfax and i am a partner in a business firm in baltimore. are you in business?" "not exactly," answered robert, "though i am traveling on business just now." "i believe you didn't mention your name," said fairfax. "my name is robert coverdale." "an excellent name. i know a family in philadelphia by that name. are you sleepy?" "a little." "then suppose we go to sleep?" "all right. goodnight!" then there was silence in the stateroom. it was not long before robert's eyes closed. he had gone about considerable during the day and was naturally fatigued. generally he had no difficulty in sleeping soundly, but to-night proved an exception. he tossed about in his narrow berth and he was troubled with disagreeable dreams. sometimes it happens that such dreams visit us to warn us of impending danger. robert finally dreamed that a pickpocket had drawn his pocketbook from his pocket and was running away with it, and he awoke with a sudden start, his face bathed in perspiration. it was midnight. the band had ceased playing for two hours and all who had staterooms had retired to them. only here and there in the main saloon a passenger lay asleep in an armchair. there was a scanty light, which entered the stateroom through a small window, and by this light robert, half rising in bed, saw a sight that startled him. mr. mortimer fairfax, his roommate, was out of his berth. he had taken down robert's trousers from the nail on which he had hung them and was in the act of pulling out his wallet, which he had imprudently left in it. this sight fully aroused the lad, and he prepared for action. fairfax was half bent over, and robert, who was deeply incensed, threw himself from the upper berth, landing on the back of his roommate, who was borne to the floor, releasing the garment with a startled cry. "what did you do that for?" he asked nervously. "what business had you with my pocketbook, you thief?" demanded robert sternly. mortimer fairfax, who had supposed robert to be fast asleep, saw that he was in a scrape, but he was a man fertile in expedients, and he instantly decided upon his course. "what do you mean?" he inquired in a tone of innocent bewilderment. "what do i mean?" retorted our hero. "i want to know what business you had with my pocketbook in your hand?" "you don't mean to say that i was meddling with your pocketbook?" said fairfax with an air of surprise. "that is exactly what i do say, mr. fairfax. if i hadn't waked up just as i did, you would have had all my money, and i should have been penniless. that is the sort of fever and ague that troubles you, i suppose." "my young friend," said fairfax, "i am shocked at what you tell me. i do not blame you for accusing me. if i were in your place and you in mine, i should no doubt act in the same way. yet i am entirely innocent, i can assure you." "it don't look much like it," robert said, rather astonished at the man's effrontery. "when i find you examining my pockets and taking out my pocketbook, it looks very much as if you were trying to rob me." "true, it does. i admit it all. but if you knew me, you would see how groundless, nay, how absurd such suspicions are. why, i am a rich man. i am worth fifty thousand dollars." "then why did you try to rob me?" "i did not. it was only in appearance. did you ever hear of a somnambulist?" "no." "it is one who gets up in his sleep and is entirely unconscious of what he does. from early youth--from the days of my innocent boyhood--i have been a victim of this unfortunate malady." "do you often steal in your sleep?" inquired robert sarcastically. "not often, but i have done it before. once, when a boy, i got up and took a purse from the pocket of my uncle, who occupied the same room with me." "what did your uncle say?" robert asked with some curiosity. "he was angry till my mother assured him that i was a somnambulist and not responsible for what i did at such a time. then we had a good laugh, over it." "do you mean to say, mr. fairfax, that when you had your hand in my pocket just now you were asleep?" "sound asleep. i had no idea that i was out of my berth." "you seemed to wake up pretty quick afterward!" "to be sure i did! i rather think you would wake up, too, if i should jump upon your back from the top berth! but i forgive you--don't apologize, i beg. i should have been misled, as you were, if our situations had been changed." certainly mr. mortimer fairfax was cool. in his limited acquaintance with the world robert had never dreamed of the existence of such a character, but he was gifted with shrewd common sense, and he did not for an instant believe the story which the other palmed off upon him. "mr. fairfax," he said, "shall i tell you what i think of your story?" "yes, if you please." "i don't believe it." "what!" exclaimed fairfax sadly. "is it possible you believe that i would rob you, my kind benefactor?" "i don't pretend to be your benefactor, but i haven't a doubt about it." "my dear young friend," said fairfax, putting his handkerchief to his eyes, "you grieve me deeply--indeed you do! i had thought you would understand me better. you do not consider that i am a rich man and can have no object in depriving you of your little store of money. let us go to bed and forget this unpleasant little circumstance." "no, mr. fairfax, you cannot stay here any longer. i insist upon your dressing yourself and leaving the stateroom!" "but, my young friend. it is the middle of the night!" "i can't help it!" said robert resolutely. "and, in my delicate health, it would be dangerous." "i don't believe you are in delicate health, but i can't help it if you are. you must go!" "you forget," said fairfax in a different tone, "that half of the stateroom is mine. i have paid for it." "then i will return the money. here it is." "i prefer to remain here." "if you don't go," said robert energetically, "i will call for help and report that you tried to rob me!" "you will repent this unkind treatment," said fairfax sullenly, but he proceeded to dress nevertheless, and in a few minutes he left the stateroom. robert locked the door after him and then, returning to bed, he said with a sigh of relief: "now i can sleep without fear. i am sure that fellow is a rascal, and i am glad to be rid of him." chapter xxv a baggage smasher's revenge when robert awoke in the morning it was eight o'clock and the steamer lay quietly at its pier. almost all the passengers had landed and he was nearly alone on the great steamer. of course mortimer fairfax had gone with the rest; in fact, fairfax was one of the first to land. he had passed the remainder of the night in the saloon, anxious, as long as he remained on board, lest robert should denounce him for his attempted theft. robert was a stranger in new york. he was instantly impressed by what he could see of the great city from the deck of the steamer. he took his valise in his hand and walked across the gangplank upon the pier. at the entrance he was accosted by a hackman. "carriage, sir?" "no," answered robert. "i will carry you cheap." "what do you call cheap?" "where do you want to go?" "astor house." this hotel had been suggested by the hermit. "all right! jump in!" and the hackman was about to take robert's valise. "wait a moment," said the lad firmly. "i haven't agreed to ride. what do you charge?" "two dollars." "two dollars! how far is it?" "about five miles!" answered the hackman with unblushing falsehood. "is there no stage that goes to that part of the city?" "no; your only way is to take a carriage." though robert had never before been in new york, he felt convinced that this was untrue and said quietly: "then i will walk." "it is too far, young man. nobody walks up there." "then i'll be the first one to try it!" said robert coolly. "wait a minute, youngster! i'll take you for a dollar and a half." robert did not answer, but crossed the street. "carry your bag, sir?" said a boy of about his own age, who seemed to be waiting for a job. "do you know the way to the astor house?" asked robert. "i ought to." "how far is it?" "half a mile." "that hack driver told me it was five miles." the boy grinned. "he thought you were green," he said. "say, boss, shall i carry that v'lise?" "how much do you charge?" "i'll take it to broadway for a quarter." "all right. i'll pay it." "i see," thought robert, "i shall have to look out or i shall be cheated. it seems to cost a good deal of money to travel." as robert walked along he asked various questions of his young partner as to the buildings which they passed. on reaching broadway he said: "i don't care about riding. if you will walk along with me and carry the valise i will pay you a quarter more." "all right. only pay me the first quarter now," said the boy cautiously. "just as you like. are you afraid i won't pay you." "i dunno. i was served that way once." "how was it?" "i was carryin' a bag--a thunderin' big bag it was, too--for a man to this very hotel. i'd carried it about a mile; when we got there he took it and was goin' in without payin' me. "'look here, boss,' i says, 'you haven't paid me.' "'yes, i did,' he says. 'i paid you when you took the bag.' "then i knew he was a beat, and i made a fuss, i tell you, and follered him into the hotel. "'what's the matter?' asked one of the hotel men, comin' forrard. "'this boy wants me to pay him twice,' he says. "of course, the hotel people took up for the man and kicked me out of the hotel. i didn't blame them so much, for who'd think of a gentleman cheatin' a poor boy?" "that was pretty hard on you," said robert in a tone of sympathy. "he must have been a mean man." "mean? i guess he was. but i got even with him, and i didn't wait long neither." "how was that?" "i got an egg and i laid for him. toward night he come out, all dressed up like as if he was goin' to the theayter. i follered him, and when i got a good chance i just hove it at him. i hit him just in his bosom, and the egg was spattered over his face and clothes. he gave a yell and then i dodged round the corner. oh, it was rich to see how he looked! i guess he'd better have paid me." robert could not help laughing, and did not find it in his heart to blame the boy who had chosen this summary way to redress his grievances. "i hope," he said, "you haven't got any eggs with you now." "why, ain't you goin' to pay me?" "oh, yes, i mean to pay you. i wouldn't cheat a poor boy. i'm a poor boy myself." his guide looked at him in surprise. "you a poor boy, with them clo'es?" he repeated. "if you was a poor boy you wouldn't pay me for carryin' your baggage." "but would carry it myself?" "yes." "so i would, but i wanted somebody to guide me to the hotel. i am traveling for a gentleman that pays the bills." "oh, cricky! ain't that jolly? wouldn't he like me to travel for him?" "i guess not," said robert, laughing. "if he should, just give a feller a chance." "i might, if i knew your name and where you live." "i left my cardcase at home on the planner, along with my jewelry, but my name's michael burke. the boys call me mike. i live at the newsboys' lodge, when i'm at home." "all right, mike; i'll remember." the remainder of the walk was enlivened by conversation of a similar kind. though mike was not much of a scholar, he was well informed on local matters, and it was upon such points that robert wished to be posted. when they reached the hotel mike uttered an exclamation of surprise. "say, do you see that man in the doorway?" he asked eagerly. "what of him?" "he's the very man that cheated me out of my pay--the man i hit wid an egg. here he is again." robert surveyed the man with curious interest. he was a man of middle age, well dressed, but with a hard, stern look upon his face. he was by no means one likely to attract strangers. "how do you know it is the same one?" asked robert in a low voice. "he's got the same look. i'd remember him if it was a dozen years, but it's only six months." "but you might be mistaken." "i'll show you whether i am. come along." when they entered the vestibule of the hotel mike paused a moment and, in hearing of the stranger, said: "last night, as i was walkin' along, i seed a man hit wid a rotten egg. he looked mad enough to kill the one that throwed it." the stranger wheeled round and regarded mike intently. "boy," said he, "i think i've seen you before." "maybe you have," answered mike coolly. "lots of people has seen me." "did you ever carry a valise for me?" "maybe i did. i've carried lots of 'em." "i think you once brought a valise for me to this very hotel." "how much did you pay me for doin' it? maybe i could tell by that." "i don't know. i presume i paid you liberally." "then i guess it was some other boy," said mike, grinning. the gentleman looked puzzled, but just then a young man came up and spoke to him, addressing him as "mr. waldo." robert started at the sound of this name. he remembered that this was the name of his employer's cousin, who was suspected of abducting the boy of whom he was in search. bidding good-by to his young guide, he registered his name and then turned over the pages back. in the list of arrivals for the day before he came upon this entry: "charles waldo, sullivan, ohio." "it's the very man!" he said to himself in excitement. chapter xxvi two important discoveries charles waldo was the name of the hermit's cousin, who was suspected of kidnapping the boy who stood between him and the property. it was to find this very man that robert was sent out by gilbert huet. robert felt that he was fortunate in so soon running across this man and decided that as long as mr. waldo remained in the hotel it was his policy to remain also. he did not see how he was to find out anything about the missing boy, but resolved to watch and wait in the hope of obtaining a clew. he did not wish to attract mr. waldo's suspicions, but took care to keep him in view. the next morning he observed mr. waldo in the reading room at the rear of the hotel talking with another person--rather a pretentious-looking man, with black whiskers and a jaunty air. at the news stand he bought a copy of a morning paper and took a seat sufficiently near to hear what was said. though waldo and his companion spoke in low tones, neither was apprehensive of being heard, as it was hardly to be presumed that any one within hearing distance would feel an interest in what they had to say. "as i was saying"--this was the first sentence which robert heard from mr. waldo--"it is entirely uncertain when i shall derive any advantage from my cousin's estate. during his life he holds it." "how is his health?" "i suppose he is well. in fact, i don't know but he is likely to live as long as i do. there can't be more than five years' difference in our ages." "that is a discouraging outlook." "i should say so! but there is one chance for me during his life." "what is that?" "he may be declared insane. in that case the management of the estate would naturally be transferred to me as the direct heir." "but is there any ground for assumption that he is insane?" "yes. ever since his son's death he has acted in an eccentric way--made a hermit of himself and withdrawn from society. you know grief brooded over often terminates in insanity. then there was his wife's terrible death, which had a strange effect upon him. "i did not understand that the boy died." "well, he disappeared. he is undoubtedly dead." "it is his being out of the way that makes you the heir, is it not?" "of course," answered waldo. "then all i can say is that it was mighty fortunate for you," said his companion dryly. "it hasn't done me any good yet and may not. these hermits are likely to live long. their habits are regular and they are not tempted to violate the laws of health. i tell you, mr. thompson, it's a tantalizing thing to be so near a large fortune and yet kept out of it." "i suppose you pray for your cousin's death, then?" "not so bad as that, but, as he don't enjoy the property, it is a pity i can't." "how much does the estate amount to probably?" asked the other with interest. "well, it can't be less than two hundred thousand dollars." "whew! that's a great fortune!" "so it is. if i get it, or when i get it, i won't mind doing as you ask me, and setting you up in a snug business." "you could do it now, mr. waldo. you are a rich man," said thompson. "you are mistaken. i may have a competence, but nothing more." "you've got a fine farm." "that don't support me. farming doesn't pay." "and money in stock and bonds." "enough to make up the deficiency in my income. i assure you i don't lay up a cent. i can't do it." "may i ask what is your errand in new york?" "i want to speak to you about that. i want to find my cousin." "don't his bankers know where he is?" "if they do, they won't tell. i suppose they are acting under orders from him?" "suppose you find him?" "then," said charles waldo significantly, "i shall raise the question of his sanity. it won't be a difficult matter to prove him insane. it only needs a certificate from a couple of doctors. i think i can find two parties who will oblige me." "i say, waldo, you're a cool, calculating fellow!" thompson was about to use another word, but checked himself. "i wouldn't like to stand in your way." "nonsense! i only want to do what is right." "and it very conveniently happens that you consider right what is to your interest. i say, have you any idea how the boy came to disappear?" "of course not! how should i?" answered waldo uneasily. "i don't know, but as he stood in your way, i thought----" "you think too much," said waldo. "oh, i don't mean to censure you. i suppose if i had been in your place i might have been tempted." "i know nothing about the boy's disappearance," said waldo hastily; "but let us drop that. i sent for you because i saw that you could serve me." "go on; if there's money in it, i am your man." "i shall pay you, of course; that is, i will pay you fairly. we will speak of that hereafter." "what do you want me to do? is there anybody you want to disappear?" "hush! you go too far, sir. i want to find out the whereabouts of gilbert huet. it is important for me to know where he is." "can you give me a clew?" "if i could i should not need to employ you. come up to my room and i will communicate further with you." the two left the reading room and robert was left to digest the important information he had received. "what a rascal that man is!" he reflected. "after stealing mr. huet's boy, he wants to put him in a madhouse. i must let him know, so that he may be on his guard. i don't believe they will think of looking for him at cook's harbor." by a curious coincidence the room assigned to robert was next to that occupied by mr. waldo, and when the boy was about entering it, some hours later, he saw the gentleman going in just ahead of him. as the latter placed one hand upon the door he drew his handkerchief from his coat pocket, and in so doing brought out a letter, which fell upon the floor, without his seeing it. passing into his room, he slammed the door, leaving the missive lying in the hall. "it is a mean thing," laughed robert as he stooped down and picked it up, "to examine a letter not intended for me, but he is such a scamp that i'll do it in this case, hoping to learn something that will help me find this poor boy." and so, without any compunctions, robert took the letter--which had been opened--into his room and read, with feelings which may possibly be imagined, the following letter: "dear sir: i feel oblidged to rite to you about the boy i took from you. you told me he would work enough to pay for his keep, and did not want to pay me anything for my trubble. now, mr. waldo, you are mistaken. the boy ain't tuff nor strong, and i can't got more'n half as much work out of him as i ought. he don't eat much, i kno, but the fact is i need a good strong boy, and i shall have to git another, and have two to feed, if things go on so. "you told me i might be strict and harsh with him, and i am. he says he has the headache about half the time, but i don't pay no attenshun to that. if i did, i wouldn't git any work done. one day he fainted away in the feald, but it's my opinyun he brought it on a-purpose by not eatin' much breakfast. "i tell you, mr. waldo, it is very aggravatin' to have such a shifless boy. now, what i want to ask you is, if you can't allow me a dollar, or a dollar and a half a week to make it square. i'm willin' to take care of the boy, but i don't want to lose money by it. i kno you give him his clo'es, but that don't cost you much. he ain't had a suit for a year, and he needs one bad. "i'm sure you will see the thing the way i do, if you are a reasonable man, as i have no reason to doubt you are; and so i remain yours to command, nathan badger. "to mr. charles waldo." robert could hardly express his excitement and indignation when he was reading this letter. he felt sure that this poor boy, who was so cruelly treated, was the unfortunate son of his friend, the hermit, who ought to be enjoying the comforts of a luxurious home. as it was, he was the victim of a cruel and unscrupulous relative, influenced by the most mercenary motives. "i will be his friend," robert resolved, "and if i can i will restore him to his father." he looked for the date of the letter and found it. it had been written in the town of dexter, in ohio. where this town was robert did not know, but he could find out. "i won't wait for mr. waldo," he said to himself. "i know all i need to. i will start for ohio to-morrow." as for the letter, he resolved to keep it, as it might turn out to be important evidence in case of need. he could not understand how mr. waldo could be careless enough to mislay so important a document, but this did not concern him. it was his business to profit by it. chapter xxvii the bound boy the town of dexter was almost entirely agricultural. its population was small and scattered. there were no large shops or manufactories to draw people to the place. many of the farmers were well to do, carrying on agricultural operations on a considerable scale. among the smaller farmers was nathan badger. he was fond of money, but knew no better way to get it than to live meanly, drive hard bargains and spend as little as possible. in this way, though not a very good farmer, he was able to lay by a couple of hundred dollars a year, which he put away in the county savings bank. mrs. badger was a fitting wife for such a man. she was about as mean as he was, with scarcely any of the traits that make women attractive. she had one, however--an indulgent love of her only child, andrew jackson badger, who was about as disagreeable a cub as can well be imagined. yet i am not sure that andrew was wholly responsible for his ugliness, as most of his bad traits came to him by inheritance from the admirable pair whom he called father and mother. andrew jackson badger was by no means a youthful apollo. to speak more plainly, he was no beauty. a tow head and freckled face often belong to a prepossessing boy of popular manners, but in andrew's case they were joined to insignificant features, small ferret eyes, a retreating chin and thin lips, set off by a repulsive expression. there was another member of the family--a bound boy--the same one referred to in mr. nathan badger's letter. this boy was, five years previous, placed in mr. badger's charge by charles waldo. i do not want my young readers to remain under any uncertainty as to this boy, and i state at once that he was the abducted son of gilbert huet, the hermit of cook's harbor, and the rightful heir to a large estate. at the time of our introduction to bill benton--for this is the name by which he was known--he had a hoe in his hand and he was about starting for the field to hoe potatoes. he was a slender boy, with delicate features and a face which indicated a sensitive temperament. his hair was dark brown, his features were refined, his eyes were blue and he looked like a boy of affectionate temperament, who would feel injustice and harshness keenly. this was indeed the case. he lacked the strong, sturdy character, the energy and self-reliance which made robert coverdale successful. robert was not a boy to submit to injustice or wrong. he was not easily intimidated and could resist imposition with all his might. but bill--to call him by the name given him by mr. waldo--was of a more gentle, yielding disposition, and so he was doomed to suffer. he was certainly unfortunately situated. mr. badger required him to work beyond his strength and seldom, or never, gave him a kind word. the same may be said of mrs. badger. it was perhaps fortunate for him that he had a small appetite, for in the badger household he would have been unable to gratify the hearty appetite of an average boy. the table was very mean and the only one who lived well was andrew jackson, whom his mother petted and indulged. there was always something extra on the table for andrew, which it was well understood that no one else in the family was to eat. mr. badger did not interfere with his wife's petting. if he had a soft place in his heart, it was for andrew, who seemed to his partial parents a remarkably smart and interesting boy. to bill benton he was a cruel tyrant. he delighted in making the life of his father's bound boy intolerable, and succeeded only too well. he was stronger than bill, and, backed by the authority of his father and mother, he dared do anything, while bill knew that it was useless to resist. still, gentle as he was, sometimes his spirit rose and made a feeble resistance. "where are you going, bill?" asked andrew as the bound boy started off after breakfast. "i am going to hoe potatoes, andrew." "no, you're not; i want you to go and dig some worms for bait. i am going a-fishing." "but your father told me to go to the field at once." "i can't help that. he didn't know i wanted you." "he will scold me if i don't go to work." "that is my business. i tell you to go and dig some worms." poor bill! he knew very well that if andrew got him into a scrape, he would not help him out, but leave his father to suppose that bill disobeyed of his own accord--if necessary, stoutly asserting it, for andrew was by no means a boy of truth. "i would rather not go, andrew," said bill uneasily. "then take that!" and andrew brutally struck him with a whip he had in his hand. the bound boy flushed at this indignity. gentle as he was, he resented a blow. "don't you do that again, andrew!" he said. "i won't stand it!" "you won't stand it?" repeated andrew tauntingly. "what will you do about it, i'd like to know?" "you have no right to hit me, and i won't submit to it," said bill with a spirit which quite astonished the young tyrant. he laughed scornfully and repeated the blow, but with more emphasis. even the most gentle and long-suffering turn sometimes, and this was the case now. the bound boy lifted the hoe and with the handle struck andrew so forcibly that he dropped upon the ground, bellowing like a calf. like most bullies he was cowardly, and the unexpected resistance and the pain of the blow quite overcame his fortitude, and he cried like a baby. it must be confessed that the bound boy was frightened by what he had done. too well he knew that he would suffer for his temerity. besides, his compassion was aroused for andrew, whom he thought to be worse hurt than he was. he threw down the hoe and kneeled by the prostrate boy. "oh, andrew, i hope i didn't hurt you!" he cried. "i ought not to have struck you." "you'll catch it when father comes home!" screamed andrew furiously. "you almost killed me!" "oh, andrew, i'm so sorry. i hope you'll forgive me." by this time mrs. badger had come to the door, and andrew, catching a glimpse of her, gave a yell as if in extreme anguish. his mother came flying out of the house. "what's the matter, my darling?" she cried in alarm. "bill knocked me down with a hoe, and i think i'm going to die!" answered andrew with a fresh burst of anguish. mrs. badger was almost paralyzed with astonishment and wrath. she could hardly believe her ears. what! her andrew assaulted by a beggarly bound boy! "bill knocked you down with a hoe?" she repeated. "you don't mean it?" "yes, i do. ask him if he didn't." "bill benton," said mrs. badger in an awful voice, "did you strike andrew with a hoe?" "yes, ma'am, and i'm sorry for it, but he struck me with a whip first." "no doubt he had a good reason for doing it. and so you tried to murder him, you young ruffian?" "no, i didn't, mrs. badger. he had no right to whip me, and i defended myself. but i'm sorry----" andrew set up another howl, though he no longer felt any pain, and his mother's wrath increased. "you'll end your life on the gallows, you young brute!" she exclaimed, glaring wrathfully at the poor boy. "some night you'll try to murder us all in our beds. the only place for you is in jail! when mr. badger comes home, i will report the case to him. now, go to work." poor bill was glad to get away from the infuriated woman. andrew was taken into the house and fed on preserves and sweetmeats by his doting mother, while the poor bound boy was toiling in the hot sun, dreading the return of his stern master. nathan badger was not far away. he had driven to the village in the buggy, not that he had any particular business there, but at present there was no farm work of a pressing nature except what the bound boy could do, and mr. badger did not love work for its own sake. in spite of his parsimony, he generally indulged himself in a glass of bitters, of which he was very fond, whenever he went to the village. his parsimony stood him in good stead in one respect, at least, for it prevented his becoming a drunkard. i have said that mr. badger had no particular business at the village, but this is not strictly true. he had business at the post office. some time since he had written to mr. waldo, asking for a money allowance for the care of bill benton. he knew very well that he was not entitled to it. he was at no expense for the boy's clothes, and certainly bill richly earned the very frugal fare, of which he partook sparingly, and the privilege of a hard bed in the attic. but it had struck him as possible that mr. waldo, not knowing the falsehood of his representations, would comply with his request. "if i can get a dollar or a dollar 'n' a half for the boy's keep," mr. badger soliloquized, "i can make a good thing out'n him. a dollar a week will come to fifty-two dollars a year, and i can't put a cent into the savings bank. a dollar 'n' a half will come to--lemme see--to seventy-eight dollars a year! that, in five years, would be three hundred and ninety dollars, without counting the interest." mr. badger's eyes glistened and his heart was elated as he took in the magnificent idea. but, alas! he was counting chickens that were not likely to be hatched. when sufficient time had elapsed for an answer to be due, he went to the post office every day, but there had been unusual delay. at last an answer had been received that very morning. mr. badger tore open the envelope in eager haste, but there was no remittance, as he had fondly hoped. the contents of the letter also threw cold water on his aspiring hopes, as may be seen from the following transcript of it: "mr. nathan badger: your letter is received asking me to pay you a weekly sum for the boy whom i bound out to you some years ago. i can hardly express the surprise i felt at this application. you certainly cannot forget that i furnish the boy's clothes, and that all you are required to do is to provide him board and lodging in return for his work. this is certainly a very good bargain for you. i need not say that the work of a boy of fifteen or sixteen years will amply repay you for his board, especially if, as i infer from your letter, he is a small eater. generally farmers are willing to provide clothes also, and i think i am dealing very liberally with you in exempting you from this additional expense. "you seem to forget one thing more: for three years, on account of the boy's being young, and so unable to work much, i allowed you fifty dollars a year, though i could readily have found another man to take him without this allowance. under the circumstances i consider it very extraordinary that you should apply to me at this late day for an extra allowance. i am not made of money, and whatever i do for this boy is out of pure benevolence, for he has no claim upon me; but i assure you that i will not be imposed upon, therefore i say 'no' most emphatically. "one other thing. you say the boy doesn't work as much as he ought to. i can only say this is no business of mine. you have full authority over him, and you can make him work. i don't believe in pampering boys and indulging them in laziness. i recommend you to be strict with william--to let him understand that you are not to be trifled with. such would be my course. yours, etc., "charles waldo." nathan badger was deeply disappointed. he had made up his mind that mr. waldo would allow him at least a dollar a week and had complacently calculated how much this would enable him to lay aside. now this dream was over. of course he could have given up the boy, for he was not formally bound to him. but this he did not care to do. the fact was that bill earned his board twice over, and mr. badger knew it, though he would not have admitted it. it was for his interest to keep him. he went home deeply disappointed and angry and disposed to vent his spite on the poor victim of his tyranny, even had there been no plausible excuse for doing so. when he reached home he was met by mrs. badger with a frowning brow. "well, mr. badger, there's been a pretty scene since you went away." "what do you mean, cornelia?" "bill has nearly killed andrew jackson." "are you crazy, wife?" "no, i am in earnest. the young rascal attacked poor andrew with a hoe and nearly killed him." "then he must be crazy!" ejaculated mr. badger. "where is andrew? i want his account of it. if it is as you say, the boy shall suffer." chapter xxviii the victim of tyranny andrew jackson made his appearance with a piece of brown paper over an imaginary bruise on his head and eye and the carefully assumed expression of a suffering victim. "what is this i hear?" asked his father. "have you had a difficulty with bill?" "yes," answered andrew in the tone of a martyr. "he knocked me down with a hoe, and if mother had not come out just as she did i think he would have killed me." "what made him attack you?" asked mr. badger, exceedingly surprised. "i asked him if he would dig some fish-worms for me." "couldn't you dig some yourself?" "i s'pose i could, but he knew better than i where to find them." "what next?" "he said he wouldn't. i told him that i would tell you about his impertinence. then he hit me with the hoe as hard as he could." "was that all that passed?" "yes." "i don't quite understand it. you are surely stronger than bill. how did it happen that you allowed him to strike you?" "he had a hoe and i hadn't anything," answered andrew meekly. "he was so furious that he wouldn't have made anything of killing me." "i always thought he was rather mild and milk-and-watery," said nathan badger thoughtfully. "you wouldn't have thought so if you'd seen him, mr. badger," said his wife, drawing upon her imagination. "he looked like a young fiend. dear andrew is right. the boy is positively dangerous! i don't know but we shall be murdered in our beds some night if we let him go on this way." mr. badger shrugged his shoulders, for he was not quite a fool, and answered dryly: "that thought won't keep me awake. he isn't that kind of a boy." "oh, well, mr. badger, if you are going to take his part against your own flesh and blood, i've got no more to say." "who's taking his part?" retorted mr. badger sharply. "i'm not going to uphold him in attacking andrew, but i'm rather surprised at his mustering spunk enough to do it. as for his doing us any harm, that's all nonsense." "you may change your mind when it's too late, mr. badger." "are you afraid of him?" asked her husband contemptuously as he regarded the tall, muscular figure of his wife, who probably would have been a match for himself in physical strength. "i can defend myself if i am awake," said mrs. badger. "but what's to hinder his attacking me when i'm asleep?" "you can fasten your door if you are afraid. but that isn't my trouble with him. there's something more serious, mrs. b." "what is it? what's he been doin'?" "it isn't he. it's charles waldo. i'm free to say that mr. waldo is the meanest man i ever had dealings with. you know i wrote to him to see if he wouldn't allow me something extra toward the boy's keep." "yes." "well, read that letter. or, stay, i'll read it to you." mr. badger took the letter from his pocket and read it aloud to his wife and son. mrs. badger was as much disappointed as her husband, for she was quite as fond of money as he. "what are you goin' to do?" she asked. "i can't do anything," answered mr. badger in deep disgust. "will you keep the boy?" "of course i will. between ourselves, he more than earns his victuals; but, all the same, mr. waldo is perfectly able to allow us a little profit." "you must make him work harder," suggested mrs. badger. "i mean to. now, we will settle about this little affair. where is bill?" "out in the field, digging potatoes," said andrew glibly. "go and call him." "all right, sir." and the boy prepared to obey the command with uncommon alacrity. poor bill, nervous and unhappy, had been hard at work in the potato field through the long forenoon, meditating bitterly on his sad position. so far as he knew, there was no one that loved him, no one that cared for him. he was a friendless boy. from mr. and mrs. badger and andrew he never received a kind nor encouraging word, but, instead, taunts and reproaches, and the heart of the poor boy, hungering for kindness, found none. "will it always be so?" he asked himself. "if andrew would only be kind to me i would do anything for him, but he seems to hate me, and so does mrs. badger. mr. badger isn't quite so bad, but he only cares for the work i do." the poor boy sighed heavily as he leaned for a moment upon his hoe. "he was roused by a sharp voice. "shirking your work, are you?" said andrew. "i've caught you this time. what'll my father say to that?" "i have been working hard, andrew," said bill. "i can show you what i have done this forenoon." "that's too thin. you're lazy, and that's all about it. well, my father's got home, and now you're going to catch it. maybe you'll knock him down with a hoe," said andrew tauntingly. "i'm sorry i hit you, andrew, as i told you; but you shouldn't have struck me with a whip." "i had a perfect right to do it. i'm your master." "no, you're not!" returned bill with spirit. "we'll see whether i am or not. come right up to the house." "who says so?" "my father told me to call you." "very well, i will come," and the bound boy shouldered his hoe and followed andrew wearily to the farmhouse yard, where mr. and mrs. badger were standing. one look at the stern faces of the pair satisfied bill that trouble awaited him. he knew very well that he could not hope for justice and that one word from andrew in the mind of his parents would outweigh all he could say. "here comes the young ruffian!" said mrs. badger as soon as he came within hearing distance. "here comes the wicked boy who tried to kill my poor andrew." "that is not true, mrs. badger," said bill earnestly. "i was only defending myself." "you hear, mr. badger. he as much as tells me i lie! do you hear that?" demanded the incensed woman. "bill benton," said mr. badger sternly, "i hear you have made a savage and brutal attack on andrew jackson. now, what have you to say for yourself, sir?" "he struck me twice with a whip, mr. badger, and i got mad. i didn't mean to hurt him." "you might have killed him!" broke in mrs. badger. "no, i wouldn't, ma'am." "contradicting me again! if there was ever a boy looked like a young fiend, you did when i came out to save my boy from your brutal temper. oh, you'll swing on the gallows some day, sir! i'm sure of that." to an unprejudiced observer all this would have been very ridiculous. the delicate, refined-looking boy, whose face showed unmistakable gentleness and mildness, almost carried to an extreme, was about the last boy to whom such words could suitably have been addressed. "andrew jackson, did you strike bill with a whip?" asked mr. badger, turning to his son. "no, i didn't," answered andrew without a blush. "how can you tell such a lie?" said bill indignantly. "mr. badger, will you allow this young ruffian to accuse your own son of falsehood?" cried the mother. "did you have a whip in your hand, andrew?" asked his father. andrew hesitated a moment, but finally thought it best to say he did. "did you strike bill with it?" "no." "you see how candid the poor boy is," said his mother. "he tells you that he had a whip in his hand, though many boys would have denied it. but my andrew was always truthful." even andrew felt a little embarrassed at this undeserved tribute to a virtue in which he knew that he was very deficient. "bill benton," said mr. badger sternly, "it appears that you have not only made an atrocious assault on my son, but lied deliberately about it. you shall have neither dinner nor supper, and tonight i will give you a flogging. now, go back to your work!" "ho, ho! you'll hit me again, will you?" said andrew triumphantly as the poor boy slowly retraced his way to the field. as the bound boy walked wearily back to the field he felt that he had little to live for. hard work--too hard for his slender strength--accompanied by poor fare and cruel treatment, constituted his only prospect. but there seemed no alternative. he must keep on working and suffering--so far he could foresee. he worked an hour and then he began to feel faint. he had eaten but little breakfast and he needed a fresh supply of food to restore his strength. how he could hold out till evening he could not tell. already his head began to ache and he felt weary and listless. he was left to work alone, for mr. badger usually indulged himself in the luxury of an after-dinner nap, lasting till at least three o'clock. as he was plodding along suddenly he heard his name called in a cheery voice: "hello, bill!" looking up, he saw dick schmidt, the son of a neighbor, a good-natured boy, whom he looked upon as almost his only friend. "hello, dick!" he responded. "you're looking pale. bill," said his friend. "what's the matter?" "i don't feel very well, dick." "you ought not to be at work. have you had dinner?" "i am not to have any." "why not?" asked dick, opening his eyes. "i knew old badger was mean, but i didn't think he was mean enough for that!" "it's a punishment," bill explained. "what for?" "for hitting andrew jackson with a hoe and knocking him down." "did you do that, bill?" exclaimed dick in great delight, for he disliked mr. badger's petted heir. "i didn't think it was in you! shake hands, old fellow, and tell me all about it." "i am afraid it was wicked, dick, but i couldn't help it. i must have hurt him, for he screamed very loud." "better and better! i know how he treats you, bill, and i tell you it'll do him good--the young tyrant! but you haven't told me about it." bill told the story, to which dick listened with earnest attention. he expressed hearty approval of bill's course and declared that he would have done the same. "so you are in disgrace," he said. "never mind. bill. it'll all come out right. it is worth something to have punished that young bully. but what's the matter, bill? what makes you so pale?" "i think it's going without my dinner. the hard work makes me hungry." "just wait a minute. i'll be back in a jiffy!" dick was off like a shot. when he returned he brought with him two slices of bread and butter, a slice of cold meat and two apples. "eat 'em, bill," he said. "they'll make you feel better." "oh, dick! i didn't want to trouble you so much." "it was no trouble, old fellow." "what will your mother say to your taking all this?" "she'll be glad of it. she isn't so mean as mrs. badger. i say, bill, you must come over and take supper with us some time. there's plenty to eat at our house." "i should like to, dick, if mr. badger would let me." "don't talk any more till you have eaten what i brought you." bill obeyed his friend's directions, and, to dick's great satisfaction, ate all that had been brought him with evident appetite. "i feel a good deal better," he said as he took the hoe once more and set to work. "i feel strong now." "it's lucky i came along. i say. bill, is that your only punishment?" a shadow came over bill's face. "i am to be flogged this evening," he said. "mr. badger told me so, and he always keeps his word." dick set his teeth and clinched his fists. "i'd like to flog old badger," he said energetically. "are you going to stand it?" "i can't help it, dick." "i'd help it!" said his friend, nodding emphatically. bill shook his head despondently. the whipping seemed to him inevitable, and there seemed to be no way of avoiding it. "what time do you expect he will whip you--the old brute?" asked dick. "he waits till nine o'clock, just after i have gone to bed." "then will you follow my advice?" "what is it?" dick whispered in bill's ear the plan he had in view. there was no need to whisper, but he did it to show that the communication was confidential. this was the plan: bill was to go to bed as usual, but in about fifteen minutes he was to get out of the window, slide along the roof of the l and descend to the ground, when dick was to meet him, escort him to his house and allow him to share his room for the night. "then," said he, "when the old man comes up to tackle you he'll have to pound the bed and get his satisfaction out of that. won't that be a splendid joke?" bill smiled faintly. it seemed to him a daring defiance of mr. badger, but, after all, he wouldn't fare any worse than he was sure of doing, and he finally acquiesced, though with serious doubts as to the propriety of the plan. "don't say a word to let 'em know what you're going to do. bill--mind that!" "no, i won't." "you'll be sure to find me waiting for you outside the house, just at the back of the barn. i'll give you some supper when you reach the house." when the bound boy came from work in the evening he met stern, cold looks from mr. and mrs. badger, but andrew jackson wore a look of triumphant malice. he was gloating over the punishment in reserve for the boy whom he so groundlessly hated. "ain't you hungry?" he said tauntingly. bill looked at him, but did not answer. "oh, you needn't answer. i know you are," said the young tyrant. "you didn't like it very much, going without your dinner. you ain't going to have any supper, either. if you're very hungry, though, and will go down on your knees and beg my pardon, i'll get you something to eat. what do you say?" "i won't do what you say," said bill slowly. "i don't care enough for supper to do that." "you don't?" exclaimed andrew angrily. "so you're stubborn, are you? anyhow, you can't say i haven't given you a chance." "you're very kind!" said the bound boy sarcastically, in spite of his gentleness. "of course i am," blustered andrew jackson. "most boys wouldn't be, after the way you treated me." "you want the satisfaction of having me beg your pardon," said bill, looking full in the face of the petty despot. "yes, i do; and i mean to have it." "you can, upon one condition." "what's that?" asked andrew jackson, his curiosity overcoming his indignation. "if you'll beg my pardon for striking me with your whip, i'll beg yours for hitting you with the hoe." andrew fairly gasped for breath at this daring proposal, and he looked for a moment as if he were in danger of having a stroke of apoplexy. "you saucy beggar!" he ejaculated. "how dare you talk to me in that impertinent way? i'll tell father to give you the worst flogging ever you had to-night--see if i don't!" and the boy left to report bill's new insolence to his mother. bill crept up to bed a little earlier than usual. he knew that mr. badger would not ascend to his humble room to administer the threatened punishment till nine o'clock or later. through a refinement of cruelty that humane gentleman chose to let his intended victim lie in an anxious anticipation of the flogging, thus making it assume greater terror. in fact, he probably would not return from the village till nine o'clock or later, and this was an additional reason why he put it off. his absence made it easier for bill to carry out the plan which had been formed for him by his trusty friend, dick schmidt, and escape from the house. he accomplished his escape unnoticed about half-past eight o'clock. dick was waiting for him behind the barn. he had been a little afraid that bill would repent the promise he had made and back out. when he saw him he welcomed him gladly. "i was afraid you wouldn't dare to come, bill," he said. "i shan't be any worse off," said the bound boy. "mr. badger was going to give me a flogging, anyway, and he can't do any more than that as it is." "what an old brute he is!" exclaimed dick. "he isn't as bad as his wife or andrew jackson." "that's so! andrew is a mean boy. i'm glad you hit him." "i am sorry, dick." "don't you think he deserved it?" "yes, but i don't like to be the one to do it." "i wouldn't mind it," said dick, "but he's precious careful not to get into any muss with me." "you're not bound to mr. badger." "if i were, he wouldn't dare to order me round. catch him bulldozing me!" "you're more plucky than i am, dick." "you're too good-natured, bill--that's what's the matter with you." "i hate fighting, dick." "what did andrew say to you when you came home from work?" "he wanted me to go down on my knees and beg his pardon for hitting him." "why didn't you knock him down?" said dick quickly. "i told him i'd do it----" _"what!"_ exclaimed dick schmidt in the deepest disgust. "if he'd beg my pardon first for striking me with a whip." "that's better. i thought you wouldn't be so much of a coward as to beg his pardon." "he didn't accept the offer," said bill, smiling. "no, i suppose not. was he mad?" "he looked as if he was. he called me a saucy beggar and threatened to tell his father." "i've no doubt he will. he's just mean enough to do that. i say. bill, it's a pity you don't work for my father." "i wish i did, dick, but perhaps you'd boss me, too." "not much danger. we'd be like brothers." while this conversation was going on the two boys were walking across the fields to mr. schmidt's farm. the distance was not great, and by this time they were at the back door. as they went in bill's eyes glistened as he saw a nice supper laid on the kitchen table, waiting for him, for dick had told his mother of the guest he expected. he decided to say nothing of the circumstances that led to the invitation. he might safely have done so, however, for mrs. schmidt was a good, motherly woman, who pitied the boy and understood very well that his position in mr. badger's family must be a very disagreeable one. "i am glad to see you, william," she said. "sit right down and eat supper. i've got a hot cup of tea for you." "i'll sit down, too, mother. i only ate a little supper, for i wanted to keep bill company." presently the boys went to bed and had a social chat before going to sleep. "i wish," said dick, "i could be where i could look on when old badger goes up to your room and finds the bird flown." if dick could have been there, he would have witnessed an extraordinary scene. chapter xxix the battle in the attic about ten minutes after bill benton left his little chamber an ill-looking man, whose garb and general appearance made it clear that he was a tramp, came strolling across the fields. he had made some inquiries about the farmers in the neighborhood, and his attention was drawn to nathan badger as a man who was likely to keep money in the house. some tramps are honest men, the victims of misfortune, not of vice, but tom tapley belonged to a less creditable class. he had served two terms in a state penitentiary without deriving any particular moral benefit from his retired life therein. his ideas on the subject of honesty were decidedly loose, and none who knew him well would have trusted him with the value of a dollar. such was the man who approached the badger homestead. now it happened that mrs. badger and andrew jackson had gone to make a call. both intended to be back by nine o'clock, as neither wished to lose the gratification of being near by when bill benton received his flogging. as for mr. badger, he was at the village as usual in the evening. thus it will be seen that as bill also had left the house, no one was left in charge. tom tapley made a careful examination of the house from the outside, and his experienced eyes discovered that it was unprotected. "here's luck!" he said to himself. "now what's to prevent my explorin' this here shanty and makin' off with any valuables i come across?" two objections, however, occurred to the enterprising tramp: first, it was not likely at that time in the evening that he would be left alone long enough to gather in his booty, and, secondly, the absent occupants of the house might have money and articles of value on their persons which at present it would be impossible to secure. the front door was not locked. mr. tapley opened it, and, finding the coast clear, went upstairs. continuing his explorations, he made his way to the little attic chamber usually occupied by the bound boy. "nobody sleeps here, i expect, though the bed is rumpled," he said to himself. "there's two boys, i've heard, but it's likely they sleep together downstairs. i guess i'll slip into bed and get a little rest till it's time to attend to business." the tramp, with a sigh of enjoyment, for he had not lately slept in a bed, lay down on bill's hard couch. it was not long before drowsiness overcame him and he fell asleep. in the meantime the three absent members of the family came home. first mrs. badger and andrew jackson returned from their visit. "your father isn't home yet, andrew," said his mother. "i hope he will come soon, for i'm sleepy," said andrew. "then you had better go to bed, my darling." "no, i won't. i ain't goin' to lose seein' bill's flogging. i hope father'll lay it on well." "no doubt the boy deserves it." "what do you think he had the impudence to say to me, mother?" asked andrew. "i shall not be surprised at any impudence from the young reprobate." "he wanted me to beg his pardon for strikin' him with a whip, as he said i did." "well, i never did!" ejaculated mrs. badger. "to think of my boy apologizing to a low, hired boy like him!" "oh, he's gettin' awful airy, ma! shouldn't wonder if he thought he was my equal!" "there's nothing but a flogging will subdue such a boy as that. i ain't unmerciful, and if the boy showed a proper humility i wouldn't mind doin' all i could for him and overlookin' his faults, but when he insults my andrew, i can't excuse him. but there's one thing i can't understand: he didn't use to be so bold." "i know what has changed him, ma." "what is it, andrew?" "it's that dick schmidt. dick treats him as if he was his equal, and that makes him put on airs." "then dick lowers himself--though, to be sure, i don't hold him to be equal to you! the badgers are a better family than the schmidts, and so are the coneys, which was my name before i was married." "i wonder whether bill's asleep?" said andrew. "you might go to the foot of the stairs and listen," said his mother. andrew followed his mother's advice, and, opening the door at the foot of the attic stairs, was astonished to hear the deep breathing which issued from bill's chamber. "ma," he said, "bill is snoring like a house afire." "reckless boy! does he make so light of the flogging which your father has promised him?" "i don't know. he's gettin' awful sassy lately. i do wish father would come home." "i think i hear him now," said mrs. badger, listening intently. her ears did not deceive her. soon the steps of the master of the house, as he considered himself, were heard upon the doorstep, and mr. nathan badger entered. "i'm glad you've come, pa. are you goin' to flog bill now?" "yes, my son. get me a stout stick from the woodshed." andrew jackson obeyed with alacrity. armed with the stick, mr. badger crept upstairs, rather astonished by his bound boy's noisy breathing, and, entering the darkened chamber, brought the stick down smartly on the astonished sleeper. in about two minutes mrs. badger and andrew, standing at the foot of the stairs, were astonished by the noise of a terrible conflict in the little attic chamber, as if two men were wrestling. there was the sound of a heavy body flung on the floor, and the voice of mr. badger was heard shouting: "help! help! murder!" "the young villain's killing your father!" exclaimed the astonished mrs. badger. "go up and help him!" "i don't dare to," said andrew, pale as a sheet. "then i will!" said his mother, and she hurried upstairs, only to be met by her husband, who was literally tumbled downstairs by the occupant of the attic chamber. husband and wife fell together in a heap, and andrew jackson uttered a yell of dismay. in all the confidence of assured victory, mr. nathan badger, seeing the dim outline of a figure upon the bed, had brought down his stick upon it with emphasis. "i'll l'arn you!" he muttered in audible accents. it was a rude awakening for tom tapley, the tramp, who was sleeping as peacefully as a child. the first blow aroused him, but left him in a state of bewilderment, so that he merely shrank from the descending stick without any particular idea of what had happened to him. "didn't feel it, did yer?" exclaimed mr. badger. "well, i'll see if i can't make yer feel it!" and he brought down the stick for the second time with considerably increased vigor. by this time tom tapley was awake. by this time also he thoroughly understood the situation or thought he did. he had been found out, and the farmer had undertaken to give him a lesson. "that depends on whether you're stronger than i am," thought tom, and he sprang from the bed and threw himself upon the astonished farmer. nathan badger was almost paralyzed by the thought that bill benton, his hired boy, was absolutely daring enough to resist his lawful master. he was even more astounded by bill's extraordinary strength. why, as the boy grappled with him, he actually felt powerless. he was crushed to the floor, and, with the boy's knee upon his breast, struggled in vain to get up. it was so dark that he had not yet discovered that his antagonist was a man and not a boy. nathan badger had heard that insane persons are endowed with extraordinary strength, and it flashed upon him that the boy had become suddenly insane. the horror of being in conflict with a crazy boy so impressed him that he cried for help. then it was that tom tapley, gathering all his strength, lifted up the prostrate farmer and pitched him downstairs just as mrs. badger was mounting them, so that she and her husband fell in a breathless heap on the lower stairs, to the indescribable dismay of andrew jackson. mrs. badger was the first to pick herself up. "what does all this mean, mr. badger?" she asked. "that's what i'd like to know," said mr. badger ruefully. "you don't mean to say you ain't a match for a boy?" she demanded sarcastically. "perhaps you'd like to try him yourself?" said her husband. "this is very absurd, mr. badger. you know very well he's weak for a boy of sixteen, and he hasn't had anything to eat since morning." "if you think he's weak, you'd better tackle him," retorted nathan. "i tell you, wife, he's got the strength of a man and a strong man, too." "i don't understand it. tell me exactly what happened." "well, you saw me go upstairs with the stick andrew jackson gave me," said mr. badger, assuming a sitting position. "i saw the boy lyin' on the bed, snoring and i up with my stick and brought it down pretty hard. he quivered a little, but that was all. so i thought i'd try it again. he jumped out of bed and sprang on me like a tiger, grinding his teeth, but not saying a word. i tell you, wife, he seemed as strong as a horse. i couldn't get up, and he sat and pounded me." "the idea of being pounded by a small boy!" ejaculated mrs. badger. "just what i'd have said a quarter of an hour ago!" "it seems impossible!" "perhaps it does, but it's so." "he never acted so before." "no, and he never hit andrew jackson before, but yesterday he did it. i tell you what, wife, i believe the boy's gone crazy." "crazy!" ejaculated mrs. badger and andrew in a breath. "just so! when folks are crazy they're a good deal stronger than it's nateral for them to be, and that's the way with bill benton." "but what could possibly make him crazy?" demanded mrs. badger incredulously. "it may be the want of vittles. i don't know as we'd orter have kept him without his dinner and supper." "i don't believe a bit in such rubbish," said mrs. badger, whose courage had come back with the absolute silence in the attic chamber. "i believe you're a coward, nathan badger. i'll go upstairs myself and see if i can't succeed better than you did." "you'd better not, wife." "oh, don't go, ma!" said andrew jackson, pale with terror. "i'm going!" said the intrepid woman. "it shan't be said of me that i'm afraid of a little bound boy who's as weak as a rat." "you'll find out how weak he is," said mr. badger. "i warn you not to go." "i'm goin', all the same," said mrs. badger. "you'll see how i'll tame him down. give me the stick." "then go if you're so plaguy obstinate," said her husband, and it must be confessed that he rather hoped his wife, who had ventured to ridicule him, might herself meet with a reception that would make her change her tune somewhat. mrs. badger, stick in hand, marched up to the door of the attic and called out boldly: "open the door, you young villain!" "how does she know i'm young?" thought tom tapley, who was on guard in the room. "well, now, if she wasn't such an old woman i should feel flattered. i guess i'll have to scare her a little. it wouldn't be polite to tumble her downstairs as i did her husband." "have you gone crazy?" demanded mrs. badger behind the door. "not that i know of," muttered the tramp. "perhaps you think you can manage me as well as mr. badger?" she continued. "i should smile if i couldn't," commented tom tapley. "that woman must think she's extra strong to be a match for me!" "i'm coming in to whip you till you cry for mercy!" "really, she's a pretty spunky old woman!" thought the tramp. "if i can't hold my own against her, i'll sell myself for old rags!" mrs. badger pushed open the door, saw dimly the outline of the tramp and struck at it with the stick. but alas! the stick was wrenched from her hand, a pistol, loaded only with powder, was discharged, and the intrepid lady, in a panic, flew out of the room and downstairs, tumbling into her husband's arms. nathan badger was delighted at his wife's discomfiture. she couldn't taunt him any longer. "i told you so!" he chuckled. "how do you like tacklin' him yourself, my dear? wouldn't you like to try it again? ho! ho!" "mr. badger, you're a fool!" exclaimed his wife sharply. "it strikes me you're a little in that way yourself, mrs. badger. did you give him a floggin'? ho, ho! you were in a great hurry to come away!" "mr. badger, he fired at me with a pistol. i tell you he's a dangerous boy to have in the house." "oh, no, mrs. badger, you can manage him just as easy!" "shut up, mr. badger! how did i know he had a pistol? i tell you it's a serious thing! before morning, you, and andrew jackson, and me may be dead corpses!" at this awful statement andrew jackson burst into a terrified howl. "i'll tell you what we'd better do, mr. badger. we'll go into our room and lock ourselves in." "let me come in, too," said andrew. "he'll kill me! he hates me!" "yes, my darling, you may come, too!" said his mother. so the valiant three locked themselves up in a chamber and listened nervously. but tom tapley was already out of the house. he made his escape over the roof, fearing that the neighborhood would be roused and his safety endangered. so passed a night of unparalleled excitement in the badger homestead. chapter xxx attacked in the rear early the next morning the three badgers held a council of war. it was unanimously decided that something must be done, but what that something should be it was not easy to determine. mr. badger suggested that the town constable should be summoned. "the boy has committed assault and battery upon our persons, mrs. badger," he said, "and it is proper that he should be arrested." "shall i go for the constable?" asked andrew jackson. "i should like to have him put in jail. then we should be safe." "the constable would not be up so early, andrew." "besides," said mrs. badger, "we shall be laughed at for not being able to take care of a single small-sized boy." "you know what he is capable of, mrs. badger. at least you did when you came flyin' down the attic stairs into my arms!" "shut up, mr. badger," said his wife, who was ashamed when she remembered her panic. "you'd better not say anything. he got you on the floor and pounded you--you a full-grown man!" "i'd like to pound him!" said badger, setting his teeth hard. "it's a pity if three of us can't manage him without calling in a constable," continued mrs. badger, who, on the whole, had more courage than her husband. "what do you propose, wife?" asked nathan. "i propose that we all go up and seize him. he is probably asleep and can't give any trouble. we can tie him hand and foot before he wakes up." "capital!" said mr. badger, who was wonderfully assured by the thought that his young enemy might be asleep. "we'll go right up." "he may be awake!" suggested andrew jackson. "true. we must go well armed. i'll carry the gun. it will do to knock the pistol out of his hand before he gets a chance to use it." "perhaps so," assented mrs. badger. "and you, andrew jackson, what can you take?" "i'll take the poker," said the heroic andrew. "very good! we had better arm ourselves as soon as possible or he may wake up. by the way, mr. badger, where is the ball of twine? it will be useful to tie the boy's hands." "if his hands are tied he can't work." "no, but i will only keep them tied while i give him a thrashing. you can take possession of his pistol and hide it. when he is thoroughly subdued we will untie him and send him to work." "without his breakfast?" suggested andrew. "no, he has already fasted since yesterday morning, and it may make him desperate. he shall have some breakfast, and that will give him strength to work." andrew jackson was rather disappointed at the decision that bill was to have breakfast, but on this point he did not venture to oppose his father. the plan of campaign having been decided upon, it only remained to carry it out. mr. badger took the old musket and headed the procession. his wife slipped downstairs and returned with the kitchen broom and a poker. the last she put in the hands of her son. "use it, andrew jackson, if occasion requires. you may be called upon to defend your father and mother. should such be the case, do not flinch, but behave like a hero." "i will, ma!" exclaimed andrew, fired perhaps by the example of the great general after whom he was named. "but you and pa must tackle him first." "we will!" exclaimed the intrepid matron. "the disgraceful scenes of last evening must not again be enacted. this time we march to certain victory. mr. badger, go on, and i will follow." the three, in the order arranged, advanced to the foot of the stairs, and mr. badger slowly and cautiously mounted them, pausing before the door of the room that contained, as he supposed, the desperate boy. "shall i speak to him before entering?" he asked in a tone of indecision, turning back to his wife. "certainly not; it will put him on his guard. keep as still as you can. we want to surprise him." to account for what followed it must be stated that dick schmidt awakened his visitor early and the two went down to breakfast. mr. schmidt was going to the market town and found it necessary to breakfast at five o'clock. this happened fortunately for bill, as he was able to obtain a much better breakfast there than at home. when breakfast was over he said soberly: "dick, i must go back." "why do you go back at all?" said dick impulsively. "i must. it is the only home i have." "i wish you could stay with me." "so do i, but mr. badger would come after me." "i suppose he would. do you think he will flog you?" "i am sure he will." "i'd like to flog him--the brute! don't take it too hard, bill. you'll be a man some time, and then no one can punish you." poor bill! as he took his lonely way back to the house of his tyrannical employer in the early morning he could not help wishing that he was already a man and his days of thraldom were over. he was barely sixteen. five long, weary years lay before him. "i'll try to stand it, though it's hard," murmured bill. "i suppose he's very mad because i wasn't home last night. but i'm glad i went. i had two good meals and a quiet night's sleep." it was not long before he came in sight of home. probably no one was up in the badger household. usually bill was the first to get up and mrs. badger next, for andrew jackson and his father were neither of them fond of early rising. the front and back doors were no doubt locked, but bill knew how to get in. he went to the shed, raised a window and clambered in. "perhaps i can get up to my room without anybody hearing me," he reflected. he passed softly through the front room into the entry and up the front stairs. all was quiet. bill concluded that no one was up. he came to the foot of the attic stairs, and his astonished gaze rested on the three badgers, armed respectively with a gun, a broom and a poker, all on their way to his room. "were they going to murder me?" he thought. just then andrew jackson, who led the rear, and was therefore nearest to bill, looked back and saw the terrible foe within three feet of him. he uttered a loud yell, and, scarcely knowing what he was about, brought down the poker with force on his mother's back, at the same time crying: "there he is, ma!" mrs. badger, in her flurry, struck her husband with the broom, while her husband, equally panic-stricken, fired the musket. it was overloaded, and, as a natural result, "kicked," overthrowing mr. badger, who in his downward progress carried with him his wife and son. astonished and terrified, bill turned and fled, leaving the house in the same way he entered it. he struck across the fields and in that moment decided that he would never return to mr. badger unless he was dragged there. he felt sure that if he did he would be murdered. he had no plans except to get away. he saw dick schmidt, bade him a hurried good-by and took the road toward the next town. for three days he traveled, indebted to compassionate farmers for food. but excitement and fatigue finally overcame him, and he sank by the roadside, about fifty miles from the town of dexter, whence he had started on his pilgrimage. chapter xxxi bill benton finds a friend late one afternoon robert coverdale reached columbus on his western trip. the next day he was to push on to the town of dexter, where he had information that the boy of whom he was in search lived. the train, however, did not leave till eleven o'clock in the forenoon, and robert felt justified in devoting his leisure hours to seeing what he could of the city and its surroundings. he took an early breakfast and walked out into the suburbs. as he strolled along a little boy, about seven years old, ran to meet him. "please, mister," he said, "won't you come quick? there's a boy layin' by the road back there, and i guess he's dead!" robert needed no second appeal. his heart was warm and he liked to help others when he could. "show me where, bub," he said. the little fellow turned and ran back, robert keeping pace with him. by the roadside, stretched out, pale and with closed eyes, lay the poor bound boy, known as bill benton. he was never very strong, and the scanty fare to which he had been confined had sapped his physical strength. robert, at first sight, thought he was dead. he bent down and put his hand upon the boy's heart. it was beating, though faintly. "is he dead, mister?" asked the boy. "no, but he has fainted away. is there any water near by?" yes, there was a spring close at hand, the little boy said. robert ran to it, soaked his handkerchief in it, and, returning, laved the boy's face. the result was encouraging. bill opened his eyes and asked in a wondering tone: "where am i?" "you are with a friend," said robert soothingly. "how do you feel?" "i am very tired and weak," murmured bill. "are you traveling?" "yes." "where?" "i don't know." robert thought that the boy's mind might be wandering, but continued: "have you no friends in columbus?" "no. i have no friends anywhere!" answered bill sorrowfully, "except dick schmidt." "i suppose dick is a boy?" "yes." "where have you been living?" "you won't take me back there?" said bill uneasily. "i won't take you anywhere where you don't want to go. i want to be your friend, if you will let me." "i should like a friend," answered bill slowly. then, examining the kind, boyish face that was bent over him, he said, "i like you." "have you had anything to eat to-day?" asked robert. "no." "will you go with me to my hotel?" "i have no money." "poor boy!" thought robert, "it is easy enough to see that." bill's ragged clothes were assurance enough of the truth of what he said. "i must take care of this poor boy," thought robert. "it will delay me, but i can't leave him." he heard the sound of approaching wheels, and, looking up, saw a man approaching in a wagon. robert signaled him to stop. "i want to take this boy to the hotel," he said, "but he has not strength enough to walk. will you take us aboard? i will pay you a fair price." "poor little chap! he looks sick, that's a fact!" said the kind-hearted countryman. "yes, i'll give you both a lift, and i won't ask a cent." there was some surprise felt at the hotel when robert appeared with his new-found friend. some of the servants looked askance at the ragged clothes, but robert said quietly: "i will pay for him," and no objection was made. when bill was undressed and put to bed and had partaken of a refreshing breakfast he looked a great deal brighter and seemed much more cheerful. "you are very kind," he said to robert. "i hope somebody would do as much for me if i needed it," answered robert. "do you mind telling me about yourself?" "i will tell anything you wish," said bill, who now felt perfect confidence in his new friend. "what is your name?" "bill benton; at any rate, that's what they call me." "don't you think it's your real name, then?" "no." "have you any remembrance of your real name?" asked robert, not dreaming of the answer he would receive. "when i was a little boy they called me julian, but----" "julian!" repeated robert eagerly. "yes." "can you tell what was your last name?" asked robert quickly. bill shook his head. "no, i don't remember." "tell me," said robert, "did you live with a man named badger in the town of dexter?" the sick boy started and seemed extremely surprised. "how did you find out?" he asked. "did mr. badger send you for me?" "i never saw mr. badger in my life." bill--er perhaps i ought to say julian--looked less anxious. "yes," he said, "but he treated me badly and i ran away." "did you ever hear of a man named charles waldo?" "yes, he was the man that sent me to mr. badger." "it's a clear case!" thought robert, overjoyed, "i have no doubt now that i have found the hermit's son. poor boy, how he must have suffered!" "julian," said he, "do you know why i am traveling--what brought me here? but of course you don't. i came to find you." "to find me? but you said----" "no, it was not mr. badger nor mr. waldo that sent me. they are your enemies. the one that sent me is your friend. julian, how would you like to have a father?" "my father is dead." "who told you so?" "mr. waldo. he told mr. badger so." "he told a falsehood, then. you have a father, and as soon as you are well enough i'll take you to him." "will he be kind to me?" "do not fear. for years he has grieved for you, supposing you dead. once restored to him, you will have everything to make you happy. your father is a rich man, and you won't be overworked again." "what is my father's name?" asked julian. "his name is gilbert huet." "huet! yes, that's the name!" exclaimed julian eagerly. "i remember it now. my name used to be julian huet, but mr. waldo was always angry whenever any one called me by that name, and so he changed it to bill benton." "he must be a great scoundrel," said robert. "now, julian, i will tell you my plan. i don't believe there is anything the matter with you except the want of rest and good food. you shall have both. you also want some new clothes." "yes," said julian, looking at the ragged suit which now hung over a chair. "i should like some new clothes." a doctor was called, who confirmed robert's opinion. "the youngster will be all right in a week or ten days," he said. "all he wants is rest and good living." "how soon will he be able to travel?" "in a week, at the outside." during this week robert's attention was drawn to the following paragraph in a copy of the dexter times, a small weekly paper, which he found in the reading room of the hotel: "a desperate young ruffian.--we understand that a young boy in the service of mr. nathan badger, one of our most respected citizens, has disappeared under very extraordinary circumstances. the evening previous to his departure he made an unprovoked attack upon mr. and mrs. badger, actually throwing mr. badger downstairs and firing a pistol at mrs. badger. he was a small, slight boy, but the strength he exhibited was remarkable in thus coping successfully with a strong man. mr. badger thinks the boy must have been suddenly attacked by insanity of a violent character." "what does this mean, julian?" asked robert, reading the paragraph to his young protege. "i don't know," answered julian, astonished. "i spent the last night before i came away with my friend dick schmidt." in a few days julian looked quite another boy. his color began to return and his thin form to fill out, while his face wore a peaceful and happy expression. in a new and handsome suit of clothes he looked like a young gentleman and not at all like bill benton, the bound boy. he was devotedly attached to robert, the more so because he had never before--as far as his memory went--received so much kindness from any one as from him. "now," thought robert, "i am ready to go back to cook's harbor and restore julian to his father." chapter xxxii once more in cook's harbor various had been the conjectures in cook's harbor as to what had become of robert coverdale. upon this point the hermit was the only person who could have given authentic information, but no one thought of applying to him. naturally questions were put to mrs. trafton, but she herself had a very vague idea of robert's destination, and, moreover, she had been warned not to be communicative. mr. jones, the landlord, supposed he had gone to try to raise the amount of his mortgage among distant relatives, but on this point he felt no anxiety. "he won't succeed," said he to his wife; "you may depend on that. i don't believe he's got any relations that have money, and, even if he has, they're goin' to think twice before they give a boy two hundred dollars on the security of property they don't know anything about." "what do you intend to do with the cottage, mr. jones?" "it's worth five hundred dollars, and i can get more than the interest of five hundred dollars in the way of rent." "is anybody likely to hire it?" "john shelton's oldest son talks of getting married. he'll be glad to hire it of me." "what's to become of mrs. trafton?" "i don't know and i don't care," answered the landlord carelessly. "the last time i called she was impudent to me; came near ordering me out of the house till i made her understand that i had more right to the house than she had." "she puts on a good many airs for a poor woman," said mrs. jones. "it's too ridiculous for a woman like her to be proud." "if anything, she isn't as bad as that young whelp. bob coverdale. the boy actually told me i wasn't respectful enough to his precious aunt. i wonder if they'll be respectful to her in the poorhouse--where it's likely she'll fetch up?" "i don't see where the boy got money enough to go off," said mrs. jones. "he didn't need much to get to boston or new york. he's probably blackin' boots or sellin' papers in one of the two." "i hope he is. i wonder how that sort of work will suit the young gentleman?" "to-morrow the time's up, and i shall foreclose the mortgage. i'll fix up the place a little and then offer it to young shelton. i guess he'll be willin' to pay me fifty dollars a year rent, and that'll be pretty good interest on my two hundred dollars." "have you given mrs. trafton any warning?" "no, why should i? she knows perfectly well when the time is out, and she's had time to get the money. if she's got it, well and good, but if she hasn't, she can't complain. oh, there's young shelton," said the landlord, looking out of the window. "i'll call him and see if we can make a bargain about renting the cottage." "frank shelton!" called out mr. jones, raising the window. the young fisherman paused. "come in; i want to speak to you." frank shelton turned in from the street and the landlord commenced his attack. "frank, folks say you're thinkin' of gettin' married?" "maybe i shall," said the young man bashfully. "whereabouts do you cal'late to live?" "well, i don't know any place." "what do you say to the widder trafton's house?" "is she goin' to leave?" "i think she'll have to. fact is, frank, i've got a mortgage on the place which she can't pay, and i'll have to foreclose. you can have it as soon as you want it." "how much rent did you cal'late to ask, mr. jones?" "i'd ought to have five dollars a month, but, seein' it's you," said the politic landlord, "you may have it for fifty dollars a year." "i'll speak to nancy about it," said the young fisherman. "i don't want to turn mrs. trafton out, but if she's got to go, i suppose i might as well hire the house as any one else." "just so. i tell you, frank, i'm offerin' you a bargain." just then frank shelton, who was looking out of the window, exclaimed in surprise: "why, there's bob coverdale!" "where?" "he just walked by, with a smaller boy alongside." "you don't say so!" uttered mr. jones, hardly knowing whether to be glad or sorry. "well, he's come in time to bid good-by to his old home. i'll go up to-morrow, first thing, and settle this matter. i s'pose they'll try to beg off, but it won't be any use." robert had written to the hermit from columbus a letter which conveyed the glad tidings of his success. it filled the heart of the recluse with a great and abounding joy. life seemed wholly changed for him. now he felt that he had something to live for, and he determined to change his course of life entirely. he would move to boston or new york and resume the social position which he had abandoned. there he would devote himself to the training and education of his boy. and robert--yes, he would richly reward the boy who had restored to him the son lost so long. he would not yet decide what he would do for him, but he felt that there was no reward too great for such a service. he knew on what day to expect the two boys, for robert had informed him by letter. restless, he waited for the moment which should restore his son to his arms. he took a position on the beach in front of the entrance to the cave and looked anxiously for the approach of the two boys. no longer was he clad in his hermit dress, but from a trunk he had drawn out a long-disused suit, made for him in other days by a fashionable tailor on broadway, and he had carefully trimmed and combed his neglected locks. "my boy must not be ashamed of my appearance," he said proudly. "my hermit life is over. henceforth i will live as a man among men." presently his waiting glance was rewarded. two boys, one of whom he recognized as robert, descended the cliff and walked briskly toward him on the firm sand beach. he did not wait now, but hurried toward them. he fixed his eyes eagerly upon the second boy. julian had much improved in appearance since we first made his acquaintance. it does not take long to restore strength and bloom into a boy of sixteen. he was slender still, but the hue of health mantled his cheeks; he was no longer sad, but hopeful, and in his delicate and refined features his father could see a strong resemblance to the wife he had lost. "julian!" said robert coverdale, "that's your father who is coming. let him see that you are glad to meet him. "mr. huet," he said, "this is your son." "you do not need to tell me. he is too like his mother. julian, my boy, heaven be praised that has restored you to me!" it is hardly to be expected that julian should feel the rapture that swelled the father's heart, for the thought of having a father at all was still new and strange, but it was not long before he learned to love him. the poor boy had received so little kindness that his father's warm affection touched his heart, and he felt glad and happy to have such a protector. "god bless and reward you, robert!" said mr. huet, taking the hand of our hero. "you shall find that i am not ungrateful for this great service. i want to talk to my boy alone for a time, but i will come to your aunt's house to supper with julian. please tell her so, and ask her to let it be a good one." "i will, mr. huet." from julian his father drew the story of his years of hardship and ill treatment, and his heart was stirred with indignation as he thought of the cruelty of the relative who had subjected him and his son to that long period of grief and suffering. "your trials are over now, julian," he said. "you will be content to live with me, will you not?" "will robert live with us?" asked the boy. "do you like robert?" asked his father. "i love him like a brother," said julian impulsively. "you don't know how kind he has been to me, father!" "yes, robert shall live with us, if he will," said mr. huet. "i will speak about it to him tomorrow." "will you live here, father?" "oh, no! you must be educated. i shall take you to boston or new york, and there you shall have every advantage that money can procure. hitherto i have not cared to be rich. now, julian, i value money for your sake." together they went to mrs. trafton's cottage to supper. "what makes you look so sober, robert?" asked mr. huet, observing that the boy looked grave. "i have heard that mr. jones will foreclose his mortgage to-morrow." "not if you pay it," said mr. huet quietly. "come with me after supper, and i will hand you all the money you require." robert was about to express his gratitude, but mr. huet stopped him. "you owe me no thanks," he said. "it is only the first installment of a great debt which i can never wholly repay." chapter xxxiii the landlord's defeat about ten o'clock the next morning mr. nahum jones approached the trafton cottage. sitting on a bench outside was robert coverdale, whittling. he had put on his old clothes, intending it to be for the last time. he wanted to surprise mr. jones. "there's bob coverdale," said mr. jones to himself. "he don't look much as if he was able to pay the mortgage. i guess i've got the place fast enough." "is your aunt at home, young man?" he asked pompously. "yes," answered robert, continuing to whittle. "you might say 'yes, sir.'" "all right. i'll remember next time." "you'd better. tell your aunt i want to see her--on business," emphasizing the last two words. "come right in, sir." mr. jones, with a patronizing air, entered the house of which he already considered himself the proprietor. mrs. trafton was engaged in making a pudding, for she had two boarders now, julian and his father, who were to take their meals in the fisherman's cottage till they got ready to leave cook's harbor. "good mornin', ma'am," said mr. jones. "good morning. will you take a seat?" she said quietly. "i can't stay long, mrs. trafton. i called on a little matter of business." "very well, sir." "i suppose you understand what it is?" "perhaps i do, but you had better explain." "i have made up my mind to foreclose the mortgage i hold on this place, and i should like to have you move out within three days, as i am going to let it." "indeed! to whom do you intend to let it?" "to frank shelton. he's goin' to be married, and this house will suit him." "and what am i to do, mr. jones? you surely do not mean to deprive robert and me of our home?" "it isn't yours any longer, or won't be. of course, you can't expect to stay here. i haven't forgotten how you talked to me when i was here before nor how impudent your boy was." "meaning me?" asked robert with a grave face. "of course i mean you!" said mr. jones sharply. "i haven't said anything impudent to you to-day, have i?" "no, but you'd ought to have thought of that before. it's too late now!" "you won't turn us out on the street, will you, mr. jones?" "haven't i given you three days to stay? if you want my advice, i should say that you'd find a good, comfortable home in the poorhouse. your boy there might be bound out to a farmer." "i don't know any farmer that wants a boy," said robert meekly. "i'd take you myself," said nahum jones, "if you wasn't so impudent. i'm afraid you're a little too airy for me." "wouldn't you let the house to me, mr. jones?" asked the widow. "it's worth a good deal more than the face of the mortgage." "you couldn't get a dollar more, in my opinion," said the landlord. "as to takin' you for a tenant, i haven't any assurance that you could pay the rent." "what rent do you want for it, mr. jones?" "five dollars a month." "five dollars a month, when you say it's only worth two hundred dollars!" "i'm goin' to fix it up a little," said mr. jones, rather nonplussed. "i think, mr. jones, we won't move," said robert. "won't move?" ejaculated the landlord, getting red in the face. "you've got to move." "who says so?" "i say so, you young whelp!" "no hard names, if you please, mr. jones. the fact is, my aunt doesn't fancy going to the poorhouse. to be sure, if she could have your society there it might make a difference." "you'll repent this impudence, bob coverdale!" "how am i impudent?" "to talk of my being in the poorhouse!" "you spoke of aunt jane going to the poorhouse." "that's a different matter." "at any rate, she won't go!" said robert decidedly. "won't? we'll see about that. how are you going to help it?" "by paying the mortgage," answered robert quietly. "you can't do it," said mr. jones, his jaw drooping. "you are mistaken, mr. jones. if you'll write a receipt, i am ready to pay it now--principal and interest." robert drew out a roll of bills from the pocket of his ragged vest and began to count them. "where did you get this money?" ejaculated the landlord. "i must decline telling you, mr. jones. it's good money, as you can see. i think you'll have to tell frank shelton he can't have the house unless he wants to hire of my aunt." nahum jones hated to take the money that was offered him, but there was no loophole to escape. the good bargain was slipping from his grasp. the triumphant look faded from his face, and he looked exceedingly ill at ease. "i'll come up with you for this, bob coverdale!" he muttered angrily. "for what? paying you money, mr. jones?" "you know what i mean." "yes, i do know what you mean," returned the boy gravely. "this money is in payment for liquor furnished to my poor uncle--liquor which broke up the happiness of his home and finally led to his death. you laid a plot to deprive my aunt, whom you had so much injured, of her home, but you have been defeated. we don't care to have anything more to do with you." there is no need of recording the landlord's ill-natured answer. he was angry and humiliated, and, when he got home, snapped up mrs. jones when she began to make inquiries about the new property. he felt the worse because he had been defeated by a boy. chapter xxxiv how it ended "robert," said gilbert huet later in the day, "next week julian and i go to boston, where we shall try to make a home for ourselves." robert looked sober. "i shall feel very lonely without you," he said. "you are to go, too, robert," said julian quickly. "if you will. julian wants your society, and so do i." robert's face flushed with eager delight. "but my aunt?" he said. "i have been speaking to your aunt. in fact, i invited her to accompany us, but she says she is used to cook's harbor and cannot leave it." "i don't like to leave her alone." "then i'll tell you what you can do. i understand that young frank shelton is seeking for a home where he can take his promised wife. i advise you to enlarge the cottage, putting on another story and perhaps an l also. this will give you plenty of room for your aunt and the young couple, who will be company for her." "yes," said mrs. trafton, "i always liked frank shelton and his wife that is to be. the arrangement will be very agreeable to me." "but," objected robert, "how can i build an addition to the house? i have no money." "i beg your pardon," said mr. huet, smiling, "but i don't think a young gentleman worth ten thousand dollars can truthfully say he has no money. i hope, robert, you are not growing mean." "ten thousand dollars!" ejaculated robert, his eyes wide open with amazement. "certainly." "i don't understand you, mr. huet." "then perhaps you will understand this." mr. huet handed robert a slip of paper, which proved to be a check on the merchants' bank, of boston, for the sum of ten thousand dollars, payable to robert coverdale or order. it was signed by gilbert huet. "you see, you are rich, robert," said julian, smiling with joy at his friend's good fortune. "oh, mr. huet, i don't deserve this," said robert, his heart full. "you must let me judge of that, my dear boy. say no more or you will be depreciating julian's value. you have restored him to me, and i consider him worth much more than ten thousand dollars." of course, robert joyfully accepted the munificent gift so cordially offered. by mr. huet's advice, he invested the money in good dividend-paying securities and monthly sent his aunt twenty-five dollars, which, with the rent, made her quite easy in her circumstances. the additions were made to the cottage, and frank shelton and his wife were glad to hire the house, thus providing mrs. trafton with society as well as adding to her income. as for robert, henceforth he shared in all the educational advantages which julian enjoyed. mr. huet took a house, engaged an excellent housekeeper and at length enjoyed a home. one letter he wrote to charles waldo--a scathing letter denouncing him for his infamous conduct and threatening severe punishment if he ever again conspired against his happiness. mr. waldo did not answer the letter for very shame. what excuse or apology could he possibly offer? three years later robert and julian made a vacation journey westward. "i should like to call on my old friend nathan badger," said julian. "so should i," said robert. "i want to see how he looks." the badgers could not at first be convinced that the elegant young gentleman, introduced as julian huet, was no other than the bound boy, bill benton; but he recalled so many incidents of his past life that they credited it at last. "you were always a favorite of mine, bill--i mean mr. julian!" said the farmer, who had a wonderful respect for wealth. "and of mine!" chimed in mrs. badger. "and i'm sure my andrew jackson loved you like a brother." andrew jackson, a gawky youth, no more prepossessing than his boyhood promised, winked hard and looked enviously at julian. when the latter drew from his pocket a silver watch and chain and asked andrew to accept it for old acquaintance sake he was quite overcome and said he liked julian "better than any feller he knew!" "then you forgive me for hitting you with a hoe, andrew?" said julian smilingly. "i don't care for that," said andrew jackson stoutly, "and i guess you more'n got even with us that time you stayed with dick schmidt and father tried to thrash a tramp--thinking it was you--and got thrashed himself!" then andrew jackson fixed an admiring glance on the watch he had coveted so long. "boys will be boys!" said mr. badger with a fatherly smile. "andrew jackson don't have no ill feelings." it was the way of the world. julian was rich now and had plenty of friends. but he had one true friend whom money could not buy, and this was robert coverdale, the young fisherman of coolers harbor, prosperous henceforth and happy, as he well deserved to be. the end a. l. burt's catalogue of books for young people by popular writers, - duane street, new york books for boys. joe's luck: a boy's adventures in california, by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the story is chock fall of stirring incidents, while the amusing situations are furnished by joshua bickford, from pumpkin hollow, and the fellow who modestly styles himself the "rip-tail roarer, from pike co., missouri." mr. alger never writes a poor book, and "joe's luck" is certainly one of his best. tom the bootblack; or, the road to success. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . a bright, enterprising lad was tom the bootblack. he was not at all ashamed of his humble calling, though always on the lookout to better himself. the lad started for cincinnati to look up his heritage. mr. grey, the uncle, did not hesitate to employ a ruffian to kill the lad. the plan failed, and gilbert grey, once tom the bootblack, came into a comfortable fortune. this is one of mr. alger's best stories. dan the newsboy. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . dan mordaunt and his mother live in a poor tenement, and the lad is pluckily trying to make ends meet by selling papers in the streets of new york. a little heiress of six years is confided to the care of the mordaunts. the child is kidnapped and dan tracks the child to the house where she is hidden, and rescues her. the wealthy aunt of the little heiress is so delighted with dan's courage and many good qualities that she adopts him as her heir. tony the hero: a brave boy's adventure with a tramp. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . tony, a sturdy bright-eyed boy of fourteen, is under the control of rudolph rugg, a thorough rascal. after much abuse tony runs away and gets a job as stable boy in a country hotel. tony is heir to a large estate. rudolph for a consideration hunts up tony and throws him down a deep well. of course tony escapes from the fate provided for him, and by a brave act, a rich friend secures his rights and tony is prosperous. a very entertaining book. the errand boy; or. how phil brent won success. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth illustrated, price $ . . the career of "the errand boy" embraces the city adventures of a smart country lad. philip was brought up by a kind-hearted innkeeper named brent. the death of mrs. brent paved the way for the hero's subsequent troubles. a retired merchant in new york secures him the situation of errand boy, and thereafter stands as his friend. tom temple's career. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . tom temple is a bright, self-reliant lad. he leaves plympton village to seek work in new york, whence he undertakes an important mission to california. some of his adventures in the far west are so startling that the reader will scarcely close the book until the last page shall have been reached. the tale is written in mr. alger's most fascinating style. frank fowler, the cash boy. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . frank fowler, a poor boy, bravely determines to make a living for himself and his foster-sister grace. going to new york he obtains a situation as cash boy in a dry goods store. he renders a service to a wealthy old gentleman who takes a fancy to the lad, and thereafter helps the lad to gain success and fortune. tom thatcher's fortune. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . tom thatcher is a brave, ambitious, unselfish boy. he supports his mother and sister on meagre wages earned as a shoe-pegger in john simpson's factory. tom is discharged from the factory and starts overland for california. he meets with many adventures. the story is told in a way which has made mr. alger's name a household word in so many homes. the train boy. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . paul palmer was a wide-awake boy of sixteen who supported his mother and sister by selling books and papers on the chicago and milwaukee railroad. he detects a young man in the act of picking the pocket of a young lady. in a railway accident many passengers are killed, but paul is fortunate enough to assist a chicago merchant, who out of gratitude takes him into his employ. paul succeeds with tact and judgment and is well started on the road to business prominence. mark mason's victory. the trials and triumphs of a telegraph boy. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . mark mason, the telegraph boy, was a sturdy, honest lad, who pluckily won his way to success by his honest manly efforts under many difficulties. this story will please the very large class of boys who regard mr. alger as a favorite author. a debt of honor. the story of gerald lane's success in the far west. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the story of gerald lane and the account of the many trials and disappointments which he passed through before he attained success, will interest all boys who have read the previous stories of this delightful author. ben bruce. scenes in the life of a bowery newsboy. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . ben bruce was a brave, manly, generous boy. the story of his efforts, and many seeming failures and disappointments, and his final success, are most interesting to all readers. the tale is written in mr. alger's most fascinating style. the castaways; or, on the florida reefs. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this tale smacks of the salt sea. from the moment that the sea queen leaves lower new york bay till the breeze leaves her becalmed off the coast of florida, one can almost hear the whistle of the wind through her rigging, the creak of her straining cordage as she heels to the leeward. the adventures of ben clark, the hero of the story and jake the cook, cannot fail to charm the reader. as a writer for young people mr. otis is a prime favorite. wrecked on spider island; or, how ned rogers found the treasure. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . ned rogers, a "down-east" plucky lad ships as cabin boy to earn a livelihood. ned is marooned on spider island, and while there discovers a wreck submerged in the sand, and finds a considerable amount of treasure. the capture of the treasure and the incidents of the voyage serve to make as entertaining a story of sea-life as the most captious boy could desire. the search for the silver city: a tale of adventure in yucatan. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . two lads, teddy wright and neal emery, embark on the steam yacht day dream for a cruise to the tropics. the yacht is destroyed by fire, and then the boat is cast upon the coast of yucatan. they hear of the wonderful silver city, of the chan santa cruz indians, and with the help of a faithful indian ally carry off a number of the golden images from the temples. pursued with relentless vigor at last their escape is effected in an astonishing manner. the story is so full of exciting incidents that the reader is quite carried away with the novelty and realism of the narrative. a runaway brig; or, an accidental cruise. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this is a sea tale, and the reader can look out upon the wide shimmering sea as it flashes back the sunlight, and imagine himself afloat with harry vandyne, walter morse, jim libby and that old shell-back, bob brace, on the brig bonita. the boys discover a mysterious document which enables them to find a buried treasure. they are stranded on an island and at last are rescued with the treasure. the boys are sure to be fascinated with this entertaining story. the treasure finders: a boy's adventures in nicaragua. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . roy and dean coloney, with their guide tongla, leave their father's indigo plantation to visit the wonderful ruins of an ancient city. the boys eagerly explore the temples of an extinct race and discover three golden images cunningly hidden away. they escape with the greatest difficulty. eventually they reach safety with their golden prizes. we doubt if there ever was written a more entertaining story than "the treasure finders." jack, the hunchback. a story of the coast of maine. by james otis. price $ . . this is the story of a little hunchback who lived on cape elizabeth, on the coast of maine. his trials and successes are most interesting. from first to last nothing stays the interest of the narrative. it bears us along as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never loses its force. with washington at monmouth: a story of three philadelphia boys. by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . three philadelphia lads assist the american spies and make regular and frequent visits to valley forge in the winter while the british occupied the city. the story abounds with pictures of colonial life skillfully drawn, and the glimpses of washington's soldiers which are given shown that the work has not been hastily done, or without considerable study. the story is wholesome and patriotic in tone, as are all of mr. otis' works. with lafayette at yorktown: a story of how two boys joined the continental army, by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . two lads from portsmouth, n. h., attempt to enlist in the colonial army, and are given employment as spies. there is no lack of exciting incidents which the youthful reader craves, but it is healthful excitement brimming with facts which every boy should be familiar with, and while the reader is following the adventures of ben jaffrays and ned allen he is acquiring a fund of historical lore which will remain in his memory long after that which he has memorized from textbooks has been forgotten. the siege of havana. being the experiences of three boys serving under israel putnam in . by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . "at the siege of havana" deals with that portion of the island's history when the english king captured the capital, thanks to the assistance given by the troops from new england, led in part by col. israel putnam. the principal characters are darius lunt, the lad who, represented as telling the story, and his comrades, robert clement and nicholas vallet. colonel putnam also figures to considerable extent, necessarily, in the tale, and the whole forms one of the most readable stories founded on historical facts. the defense of fort henry. a story of wheeling creek in . by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . nowhere in the history of our country can be found more heroic or thrilling incidents than in the story of those brave men and women who founded the settlement of wheeling in the colony of virginia. the recital of what elizabeth zane did is in itself as heroic a story as can be imagined. the wondrous bravery displayed by major mcculloch and his gallant comrades, the sufferings of the colonists and their sacrifice of blood and life, stir the blood of old as well as young readers. the capture of the laughing mary. a story of three new york boys in . by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "during the british occupancy of new york, at the outbreak of the revolution, a yankee lad hears of the plot to take general washington's person, and calls in two companions to assist the patriot cause. they do some astonishing things, and, incidentally, lay the way for an american navy later, by the exploit which gives its name to the work. mr. otis' books are too well known to require any particular commendation to the young."--evening post. with warren at bunker hill. a story of the siege of boston. by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . "this is a tale of the siege of boston, which opens on the day after the doings at lexington and concord, with a description of home life in boston, introduces the reader to the british camp at charlestown, shows gen. warren at home, describes what a boy thought of the battle of bunker hill, and closes with the raising of the siege. the three heroes, george wentworth, ben scarlett and an old ropemaker incur the enmity of a young tory, who causes them many adventures the boys will like to read."--detroit free press. with the swamp fox. the story of general marion's spies. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this story deals with general francis marion's heroic struggle in the carolinas. general marion's arrival to take command of these brave men and rough riders is pictured as a boy might have seen it, and although the story is devoted to what the lads did, the swamp fox is ever present in the mind of the reader. on the kentucky frontier. a story of the fighting pioneers of the west. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . in the history of our country there is no more thrilling story than that of the work done on the mississippi river by a handful of frontiersmen. mr. otis takes the reader on that famous expedition from the arrival of major clarke's force at corn island, until kaskaskia was captured. he relates that part of simon kenton's life history which is not usually touched upon either by the historian or the story teller. this is one of the most entertaining books for young people which has been published. sarah dillard's ride. a story of south carolina in . by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "this book deals with the carolinas in , giving a wealth of detail of the mountain men who struggled so valiantly against the king's troops. major ferguson is the prominent british officer of the story, which is told as though coming from a youth who experienced these adventures. in this way the famous ride of sarah dillard is brought out as an incident of the plot."--boston journal. a tory plot. a story of the attempt to kill general washington. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "'a tory plot' is the story of two lads who overhear something of the plot originated during the revolution by gov. tryon to capture or murder washington. they communicate their knowledge to gen. putnam and are commissioned by him to play the role of detectives in the matter. they do so, and meet with many adventures and hairbreadth escapes. the boys are, of course, mythical, but they serve to enable the author to put into very attractive shape much valuable knowledge concerning one phase of the revolution."--pittsburgh times. a traitor's escape. a story of the attempt to seize benedict arnold. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "this is a tale with stirring scenes depicted in each chapter, bringing clearly before the mind the glorious deeds of the early settlers in this country. in an historical work dealing with this country's past, no plot can hold the attention closer than this one, which describes the attempt and partial success of benedict arnold's escape to new york, where he remained as the guest of sir henry clinton. all those who actually figured in the arrest of the traitor, as well as gen. washington, are included as characters."--albany union. a cruise with paul jones. a story of naval warfare in . by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "this story takes up that portion of paul jones' adventurous life when he was hovering off the british coast, watching for an opportunity to strike the enemy a blow. it deals more particularly with his descent upon whitehaven, the seizure of lady selkirk's plate, and the famous battle with the drake. the boy who figures in the tale is one who was taken from a derelict by paul jones shortly after this particular cruise was begun."--chicago inter-ocean. corporal lige's recruit. a story of crown point and ticonderoga. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ , . "in 'corporal lige's recruit,' mr. otis tells the amusing story of an old soldier, proud of his record, who had served the king in ' , and who takes the lad, isaac rice, as his 'personal recruit.' the lad acquits himself superbly. col. ethan allen 'in the name of god and the continental congress,' infuses much martial spirit into the narrative, which will arouse the keenest interest as it proceeds. crown point, ticonderoga, benedict arnold and numerous other famous historical names appear in this dramatic tale."--boston globe. morgan, the jersey spy. a story of the siege of yorktown in . by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "the two lads who are utilized by the author to emphasize the details of the work done during that memorable time were real boys who lived on the banks of the york river, and who aided the jersey spy in his dangerous occupation. in the guise of fishermen the lads visit yorktown, are suspected of being spies, and put under arrest. morgan risks his life to save them. the final escape, the thrilling encounter with a squad of red coats, when they are exposed equally to the bullets of friends and foes, told in a masterly fashion, makes of this volume one of the most entertaining books of the year."--inter-ocean. the young scout: the story of a west point lieutenant. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the crafty apache chief geronimo but a few years ago was the most terrible scourge of the southwest border. the author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the incidents of geronimo's last raid. the hero is lieutenant james decker, a recent graduate of west point. ambitious to distinguish himself the young man takes many a desperate chance against the enemy and on more than one occasion narrowly escapes with his life. in our opinion mr. ellis is the best writer of indian stories now before the public. adrift in the wilds: the adventures of two shipwrecked boys. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . elwood brandon and howard lawrence are en route for san francisco. off the coast of california the steamer takes fire. the two boys reach the shore with several of the passengers. young brandon becomes separated from his party and is captured by hostile indians, but is afterwards rescued. this is a very entertaining narrative of southern california. a young hero; or, fighting to win. by edward s. ellis. mo. cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this story tells how a valuable solid silver service was stolen from the misses perkiupine, two very old and simple minded ladies. fred sheldon, the hero of this story, undertakes to discover the thieves and have them arrested. after much time spent in detective work, he succeeds in discovering the silver plate and winning the reward. the story is told in mr. ellis' most fascinating style. every boy will be glad to read this delightful book. lost in the rockies. a story of adventure in the rocky mountains. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon adventure, and at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced breathless enjoyment in this romantic story describing many adventures in the rockies and among the indians. a jaunt through java: the story of a journey to the sacred mountain. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the interest of this story is found in the thrilling adventures of two cousins, hermon and eustace hadley, on their trip across the island of java, from samarang to the sacred mountain. in a land where the royal bengal tiger, the rhinoceros, and other fierce beasts are to be met with, it is but natural that the heroes of this book should have a lively experience. there is not a dull page in the book. the boy patriot. a story of jack, the young friend of washington. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . "there are adventures of ail kinds for the hero and his friends, whose pluck and ingenuity in extricating themselves from awkward fixes are always equal to the occasion. it is an excellent story full of honest, manly, patriotic efforts on the part of the hero. a very vivid description of the battle of trenton is also found in this story."--journal of education. a yankee lad's pluck. how bert larkin saved his father's ranch in porto rico. by wm. p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "bert larkin, the hero of the story, early excites our admiration, and is altogether a fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst the story of his numerous adventures is very graphically told. this will, we think, prove one of the most popular boys' books this season."--gazette. a brave defense. a story of the massacre at fort griswold in . by william p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . perhaps no more gallant fight against fearful odds took place during the revolutionary war than that at fort griswold, groton heights, conn., in . the boys are real boys who were actually on the muster rolls, either at fort trumbull on the new london side, or of fort griswold on the groton side of the thames. the youthful reader who follows halsey sanford and levi dart and tom malleson, and their equally brave comrades, through their thrilling adventures will be learning something more than historical facts; they will be imbibing lessons of fidelity, of bravery, of heroism, and of manliness, which must prove serviceable in the arena of life. the young minuteman. a story of the capture of general prescott in . by william p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this story is based upon actual events which occurred during the british occupation of the waters of narragansett bay. darius wale and william northrop belong to "the coast patrol." the story is a strong one, dealing only with actual events. there is, however, no lack of thrilling adventure, and every lad who is fortunate enough to obtain the book will find not only that his historical knowledge is increased, but that his own patriotism and love of country are deepened. for the temple: a tale of the fall of jerusalem. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by's. j. solomon. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . "mr. henty's graphic prose picture of the hopeless jewish resistance to roman sway adds another leaf to his record of the famous wars of the world. the book is one of mr. henty's cleverest efforts."--graphic. roy gilbert's search: a tale of the great lakes. by wm. p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . a deep mystery hangs over the parentage of roy gilbert. he arranges with two schoolmates to make a tour of the great lakes on a steam launch. the three boys visit many points of interest on the lakes. afterwards the lads rescue an elderly gentleman and a lady from a sinking yacht. later on the boys narrowly escape with their lives. the hero is a manly, self-reliant boy, whose adventures will be followed with interest. the slate picker: the story of a boy's life in the coal mines. by harry prentice. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this is a story of a boy's life in the coal mines of pennsylvania. ben burton, the hero, had a hard road to travel, but by grit and energy he advanced step by step until he found himself called upon to fill the position of chief engineer of the kohinoor coal company. this is a book of extreme interest to every boy reader. the boy cruisers; or, paddling in florida. by st. george rathborne. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . andrew george and rowland carter start on a canoe trip along the gulf coast, from key west to tampa, florida. their first adventure is with a pair of rascals who steal their boats. next they run into a gale in the gulf. after that they have a lively time with alligators and andrew gets into trouble with a band of seminole indians. mr. rathborne knows just how to interest the boys, and lads who are in search of a rare treat will do well to read this entertaining story. captured by zulus: a story of trapping in africa. by harry prentice. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this story details the adventures of two lads, dick elsworth and bob harvey, in the wilds of south africa. by stratagem the zulus capture dick and bob and take them to their principal kraal or village. the lads escape death by digging their way out of the prison hut by night. they are pursued, but the zulus finally give up pursuit. mr. prentice tells exactly how wild-beast collectors secure specimens on their native stamping grounds, and these descriptions make very entertaining reading. tom the ready; or, up from the lowest. by randolph hill. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this is a dramatic narrative of the unaided rise of a fearless, ambitious boy from the lowest round of fortune's ladder to wealth and the governorship of his native state. tom seacomb begins life with a purpose, and eventually overcomes those who oppose him. how he manages to win the battle is told by mr. hill in a masterful way that thrills the reader and holds his attention and sympathy to the end. captain kidd's gold: the true story of an adventurous sailor boy. by james franklin fitts. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . there is something fascinating to the average youth in the very idea of buried treasure. a vision arises before his eyes of swarthy portuguese and spanish rascals, with black beards and gleaming eyes. there were many famous sea rovers, but none more celebrated than capt. kidd. paul jones garry inherits a document which locates a considerable treasure buried by two of kidd's crew. the hero of this book is an ambitious, persevering lad, of salt-water new england ancestry, and his efforts to reach the island and secure the money form one of the most absorbing tales for our youth that has come from the press. the boy explorers: the adventures of two boys in alaska. by harry prentice. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . two boys, raymond and spencer manning, travel to alaska to join their father in search of their uncle. on their arrival at sitka the boys with an indian guide set off across the mountains. the trip is fraught with perils that test the lads' courage to the utmost. all through their exciting adventures the lads demonstrate what can be accomplished by pluck and resolution, and their experience makes one of the most interesting tales ever written. the island treasure; or, harry darrel's fortune. by frank k. converse. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . harry darrel, having received a nautical training on a school-ship, is bent on going to sea. a runaway horse changes his prospects. harry saves dr. gregg from drowning and afterward becomes sailing-master of a sloop yacht. mr. converse's stories possess a charm of their own which is appreciated by lads who delight in good healthy tales that smack of salt water. guy harris: the runaway. by harry castlemon. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . guy harris lived in a small city on the shore of one of the great lakes. he is persuaded to go to sea, and gets a glimpse of the rough side of life in a sailor's boarding house. he ships on a vessel and for five months leads a hard life. the book will interest boys generally on account of its graphic style. this is one of castlemon's most attractive stories. julian mortimer: a brave boy's struggle for home and fortune. by harry castlemon. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . the scene of the story lies west of the mississippi river, in the days when emigrants made their perilous way across the great plains to the land of gold. there is an attack upon the wagon train by a large party of indians. our hero is a lad of uncommon nerve and pluck. befriended by a stalwart trapper, a real rough diamond, our hero achieves the most happy results. by pike and dyke: a tale of the rise of the dutch republic. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by maynard brown. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "boys with a turn for historical research will be enchanted with the book, while the rest who only care for adventure will be students in spite of themselves."--st. james's gazette. st. george for england: a tale of cressy and poitiers. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "a story of very great interest for boys. in his own forcible style the author has endeavored to show that determination and enthusiasm can accomplish marvellous results; and that courage is generally accompanied by magnanimity and gentleness."--pall mall gazette. captain bayley's heir: a tale of the gold fields of california. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by h. m. paget. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "mr. henty is careful to mingle instruction with entertainment; and the humorous touches, especially in the sketch of john holl, the westminster dustman, dickens himself could hardly have excelled."--christian leader. budd boyd's triumph; or, the boy firm of fox island. by william p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the scene of this story is laid on the upper part of narragansett bay, and the leading incidents have a strong salt-water flavor. the two boys, budd boyd and judd floyd, being ambitious and clear sighted, form a partnership to catch and sell fish. budd's pluck and good sense carry him through many troubles. in following the career of the boy firm of boyd & floyd, the youthful reader will find a useful lesson that industry and perseverance are bound to lead to ultimate success. lost in the canyon: sam willett's adventures on the great colorado. by alfred r. calhoun, mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . this story hinges on a fortune left to sam willett, the hero, and the fact that it will pass to a disreputable relative if the lad dies before he shall have reached his majority. the story of his father's peril and of sam's desperate trip down the great canyon on a raft, and how the party finally escape from their perils is described in a graphic style that stamps mr. calhoun as a master of his art. captured by apes: the wonderful adventures of a young animal trainer. by harry prentice. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . philip garland, a young animal collector and trainer, sets sail for eastern seas in quest of a new stock of living curiosities. the vessel is wrecked off the coast of borneo, and young garland is cast ashore on a small island, and captured by the apes that overrun the place. very novel indeed is the way by which the young man escapes death. mr. prentice is a writer of undoubted skill. under drake's flag: a tale of the spanish main. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "there is not a dull chapter, nor, indeed, a dull page in the book; but the author has so carefully worked up his subject that the exciting deeds of his heroes are never incongruous nor absurd."--observer. by sheer pluck: a tale of the ashanti war. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . the author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the details of the ashanti campaign, of which he was himself a witness. "mr. henty keeps up his reputation as a writer of boys' stories. 'by sheer pluck' will be eagerly read."--athenaeum. with lee in virginia: a story of the american civil war. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "one of the best stories for lads which mr. henty has yet written. the picture is full of life and color, and the stirring and romantic incidents are skillfully blended with the personal interest and charm of the story."--standard. by england's aid; or, the freeing of the netherlands ( - ). by g. a. henty. with illustrations by alfred pearse. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "it is an admirable book for youngsters. it overflows with stirring incident and exciting adventure, and the color of the era and of the scene are finely reproduced. the illustrations add to its attractiveness."--boston gazette. by right of conquest; or, with cortez in mexico. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by w. s. stacey. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "the conquest of mexico by a small band of resolute men under the magnificent leadership of cortez is always rightfully ranked among the most romantic and daring exploits in history. 'by right of conquest' is the nearest approach to a perfectly successful historical tale that mr. henty has yet published."--academy. for name and fame; or, through afghan passes. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of excitement of a campaign, but, what is still more useful, an account of a territory and its inhabitants which must for a long time possess a supreme interest for englishmen, as being the key to our indian empire."--glasgow herald. the bravest of the brave; or, with peterborough in spain. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by h. m. paget. mo cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "mr. henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work--to enforce the doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and loving kindness, as indispensable to the making of a gentleman. boys will read 'the bravest of the brave' with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite sure."--daily telegraph. the cat of bubastes: a story of ancient egypt. by g. a. henty. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "the story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat to the perilous exodus into asia with which it closes, is very skillfully constructed and full of exciting adventures. it is admirably illustrated."--saturday review. bonnie prince charlie: a tale of fontenoy and culloden. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of 'quentin durward.' the lad's journey across france, and his hairbreadth escapes, makes up as good a narrative of the kind as we have ever read. for freshness of treatment and variety of incident mr. henty has surpassed himself."--spectator. with clive in india; or, the beginnings of an empire. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "he has taken a period of indian history of the most vital importance, and he has embroidered on the historical facts a story which of itself is deeply interesting. young people assuredly will be delighted with the volume."--scotsman. in the reign of terror: the adventures of a westminster boy. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by j. schonberg. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "harry sandwith, the westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat mr. henty's record. his adventures will delight boys by the audacity and peril they depict. the story is one of mr. henty's best."--saturday review. the lion of the north: a tale of gustavus adolphus and the wars of religion. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by john schonberg. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "a praiseworthy attempt to interest british youth in the great deeds of the scotch brigade in the wars of gustavus adolphus. mackey, hepburn, and munro live again in mr. henty's pages, as those deserve to live whose disciplined bands formed really the germ of the modern british army."--athenaeum. the dragon and the raven; or, the days of king alfred. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by c. j. staniland. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "in this story the author gives an account of the fierce struggle between saxon and dane for supremacy in england, and presents a vivid picture of the misery and ruin to which the country was reduced by the ravages of the sea-wolves. the story is treated in a manner most attractive to the boyish reader."--athenaeum. the young carthaginian: a story of the times of hannibal. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by c. j. staniland. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "well constructed and vividly told. from first to last nothing stays the interest of the narrative. it bears us along as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never loses its force."--saturday review. in freedom's cause: a story of wallace and brace. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "it is written in the author's best style. pull of the wildest and most remarkable achievements, it is a tale of great interest, which a boy, once he has begun it, will not willingly put one side."--the schoolmaster. with wolfe in canada; or, the winning of a continent. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "a model of what a boys' story-book should be. mr. henty has a great power of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as no pains are spared by him to ensure accuracy in historic details, his books supply useful aids to study as well as amusement."--school guardian. true to the old flag: a tale of the american war of independence. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "does justice to the pluck and determination of the british soldiers during the unfortunate struggle against american emancipation. the son of an american loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the hostile red-skins in that very huron country which has been endeared to us by the exploits of hawkeye and chingachgook."--the times. a final reckoning: a tale of bush life in australia. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by w. b. wollen. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . "all boys will read this story with eager and unflagging interest. the episodes are in mr. henty's very best vein--graphic, exciting, realistic; and, as in all mr. henty's books, the tendency is to the formation of an honorable, manly, and even heroic character." --birmingham post. the lion of st. mark: a tale of venice in the fourteenth century. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "every boy should read 'the lion of st. mark.' mr. henty has never produced a story more delightful, more wholesome, or more vivacious."--saturday review. facing death; or, the hero of the vaughan pit. a tale of the coal mines. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "the tale is well written and well illustrated, and there is much reality in the characters. if any father, clergyman, or schoolmaster is on the lookout for a good book to give as a present to a boy who is worth his salt, this is the book we would recommend."--standard. maori and settler: a story of the new zealand war. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by alfred pearse. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "in the adventures among the maoris, there are many breathless moments in which the odds seem hopelessly against the party, but they succeed in establishing themselves happily in one of the pleasant new zealand valleys. it is brimful of adventure, of humorous and interesting conversation, and vivid pictures of colonial life."--schoolmaster. one of the th: a tale of waterloo. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by w. h. overend. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "written with homeric vigor and heroic inspiration. it is graphic, picturesque, and dramatically effective... shows us mr. henty at his best and brightest. the adventures will hold a boy enthralled as he rushes through them with breathless interest 'from cover to cover.'"--observer. orange and green: a tale of the boyne and limerick. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne, mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "the narrative is free from the vice of prejudice, and ripples with life as if what is being described were really passing before the eye."--belfast news-letter. through the fray: a story of the luddite riots. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by h. m. paget. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "mr. henty inspires a love and admiration for straightforwardness, truth and courage. this is one of the best of the many good books mr. henty has produced, and deserves to be classed with his 'facing death.'"--standard. the young midshipman: a story of the bombardment of alexandria. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . a coast fishing lad, by an act of heroism, secures the interest of a shipowner, who places him as an apprentice on board one of his ships. in company with two of his fellow-apprentices he is left behind, at alexandria, in the hands of the revolted egyptian troops, and is present through the bombardment and the scenes of riot and bloodshed which accompanied it. in times of peril. a tale of india. by g. a. henty. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "the hero of the story early excites our admiration, and is altogether a fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst the story of the campaign is very graphically told."--st. james's gazette. the cornet of horse: a tale of marlborough's wars. by g. a. henty. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . "mr. henty not only concocts a thrilling tale, he weaves fact and fiction together with so skillful a hand that the reader cannot help acquiring a just and clear view of that fierce and terrible struggle known as the crimean war."--athenaeum. the young franc-tireurs: their adventures in the franco-prussian war. by g. a. henty. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "a capital hook for boys. it is bright and readable, and full of good sense and manliness. it teaches pluck and patience in adversity, and shows that right living leads to success."--observer. the young colonists: a story of life and war in south africa. by g. a. henty. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . no boy needs to have any story of henty's recommended to him, and parents who do not know and buy them for their boys should be ashamed of themselves. those to whom he is yet unknown could not make a better beginning than with this book. the young buglers. a tale of the peninsular war. by g. a. henty. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . "mr. henty is a giant among boys' writers, and his books are sufficiently popular to be sure of a welcome anywhere. in stirring interest, this is quite up to the level of mr. henty's former historical tales."--saturday review. sturdy and strong; or, how george andrews made his way. by g. a. henty. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "the history of a hero of everyday life, whose love of truth, clothing of modesty, and innate pluck, carry him, naturally, from poverty to affluence. george andrews is an example of character with nothing to cavil at, and stands as a good instance of chivalry in domestic life."--the empire. among malay pirates. a story of adventure and peril. by g. a. henty. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon adventure, and at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced breathless enjoyment in a romantic story that must have taught him much at its close."--army and navy gazette. jack archer. a tale of the crimea. by g. a. henty. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "mr. henty not only concocts a thrilling tale, he weaves fact and fiction together with so skillful a hand that the reader cannot help acquiring a just and clear view of that fierce and terrible struggle."--athenaeum. friends, though divided. a tale of the civil war< by g. a. henty. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . "it has a good plot; it abounds in action; the scenes are equally spirited and realistic, and we can only say we have read it with much pleasure from first to last."--times. out on the pampas; or, the young settlers. by g. a. henty. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "a really noble story, which adult readers will find to the full as satisfying as the boys. lucky boys! to have such a caterer as mr. g. a. henty."--black and white. the boy knight: a tale of the crusades. by g. a. henty. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "of stirring episode there is no lack. the book, with its careful accuracy and its descriptions of all the chief battles, will give many a schoolboy his first real understanding of a very important period of history."--st. james's gazette. the wreck of the golden fleece. the story of a north sea fisher boy. by robert leighton. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . a description of life on the wild north sea,--the hero being a parson's son who is appreciated on board a lowestoft fishing lugger. the lad has to suffer many buffets from his shipmates, while the storms and dangers which he braved on board the "north star" are set forth with minute knowledge and intense power. the wreck of the "golden fleece" forms the climax to a thrilling series of desperate mischances. olaf the glorious. a story of the viking age. by robert leighton. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this story of olaf the glorious, king of norway, opens with the incident of his being found by his uncle living as a bond-slave in esthonia; then come his adventures as a viking and his raids upon the coasts of scotland and england, his victorious battle against the english at maldon in essex, his being bought off by ethelred the unready, and his conversion to christianity. he then returns to pagan norway, is accepted as king, and converts his people to the christian faith. to greenland and the pole. a story of adventure in the arctic regions, by gordon stables. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . the unfailing fascination of arctic venturing is presented in this story with new vividness. it deals with skilobning in the north of scotland, deer-hunting in norway, sealing in the arctic seas, bear-stalking on the ice-floes, the hardships of a journey across greenland, and a successful voyage to the back of the north pole. this is, indeed, a real sea-yarn by a real sailor, and the tone is as bright and wholesome as the adventures are numerous. yussuf the guide. a story of adventure in asia minor. by george manville fenn. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this story deals with the stirring incidents in the career of a lad who has been almost given over by the doctors, but who rapidly recovers health and strength in a journey through asia minor. the adventures are many, and culminate in the travellers being snowed up for the winter in the mountains, from which they escape while their captors are waiting for the ransom that does not come. grettir the outlaw. a story of iceland. by's. barring-gould. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "this is the boys' book of the year. that is, of course, as much as to say that it will do for men grown as well as juniors. it is told in simple, straightforward english, as all stories should be, and it has a freshness and freedom which make it irresistible."--national observer. two thousand years ago. the adventures of a roman boy by a. j. church. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "prof. church has in this story sought to revivify that most interesting period, the last days of the roman republic. the book is extremely entertaining as well as useful; there is a wonderful freshness in the roman scenes and characters."--times. nat the naturalist. a boy's adventure in the eastern seas. by george manville fenn. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . nat and his uncle dick go on a voyage to the remoter islands of the eastern seas, and their adventures are told in a truthful and vastly interesting fashion. the descriptions of mr. ebony, their black comrade, and of the scenes of savage life, are full of genuine humor. the log of the flying fish. a story of peril and adventure. by harry collingwood. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . "this story is full of even more vividly recounted adventures than those which charmed so many boy readers in 'pirate island' and 'congo rovers.'...there is a thrilling adventure on the precipices of mount everest, when the ship floats off and providentially returns by force of 'gravitation.'"--academy. the congo rovers. a story of the slave squadron. by harry collingwood. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "the scene of this tale is laid on the west coast of africa, and in the lower reaches of the congo; the characteristic scenery of the great river being delineated with wonderful accuracy. mr. collingwood carries us off for another cruise at sea, in 'the congo rovers,' and boys will need no pressing to join the daring crew, which seeks adventures and meets with any number of them."--the times. boris the bear hunter. a tale of peter the great and his times. by fred wishaw. mo. cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "this is a capital story. the characters are marked and lifelike, and it is full of incident and adventure."--standard. michael strogoff; or, the courier of the czar. by jules verne. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "the story is full of originality and vigor. the characters are lifelike, there is plenty of stirring incident, the interest is sustained throughout, and every boy will enjoy following the fortunes of the hero."--journal of education. mother carey's chicken. her voyage to the unknown isle. by george manville fenn. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "undoubtedly one of the best mr. fenn has written. the incidents are of thrilling interest, while the characters are drawn with a care and completeness rarely found in a boy's book."--literary world. for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publisher, a. l, burt, - duane street, new york. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). [illustration: the bear was trying to climb up on the engine hood.] the motor boys across the plains or the hermit of lost lake by clarence young author of "the motor boys," "the motor boys overland," "the motor boys in mexico," "jack ranger's schooldays," etc. illustrated new york cupples & leon co. * * * * * * books by clarence young =the motor boys series= (_trade mark, reg. u. s. pat. of._) mo. illustrated price per volume, cents, postpaid the motor boys or chums through thick and thin the motor boys overland or a long trip for fun and fortune the motor boys in mexico or the secret of the buried city the motor boys across the plains or the hermit of lost lake the motor boys afloat or the stirring cruise of the dartaway the motor boys on the atlantic or the mystery of the lighthouse the motor boys in strange waters or lost in a floating forest the motor boys on the pacific or the young derelict hunters the motor boys in the clouds or a trip for fame and fortune =the jack ranger series= mo. finely illustrated price per volume, $ . , postpaid jack ranger's schooldays or the rivals of washington hall jack ranger's western trip or from boarding school to ranch and range jack ranger's school victories or track, gridiron and diamond jack ranger's ocean cruise or the wreck of the polly ann jack ranger's gun club or from schoolroom to camp and trail * * * * * * copyright, , by cupples & leon company the motor boys across the plains contents chapter page i. ramming an ox cart ii. a nest of serpents iii. the deserted cabin iv. news from the mine v. trouble ahead vi. on a strange road vii. the rescue of tommy bell viii. pursued by enemies ix. into the cave x. attacked by a cougar xi. a runaway auto xii. tommy finds a friend xiii. the colored man's ghost xiv. trouble with a bad man xv. the story of lost lake xvi. a lonely cabin xvii. the indian and the auto xviii. lost lake found xix. the ghost of the lake xx. the mysterious woman xxi. the den of the hermit xxii. a revelation xxiii. searching for the hermit xxiv. the hermit's identity xxv. attacked by the enemy xxvi. on the road again xxvii. trouble at the mine xxviii. all's well that ends well preface _dear boys_: here it is at last--the fourth volume of "the motor boys series," for which so many boys all over our land have been asking during the past year. to those who have read the other volumes in this line, this new tale needs no special introduction. to others, i would say that in the first volume, entitled, "the motor boys," i introduced three wide-awake american lads, ned, bob and jerry, and told how they first won a bicycle race and then a great motor cycle contest,--the prize in the latter being a big touring car. having obtained the automobile, the lads went west, and in the second volume, called, "the motor boys overland," were related the particulars of a struggle for a valuable mine, a struggle which tested the boys' bravery to the utmost. while in the west the boys heard of a strange buried city in mexico, and, in company with a learned college professor, journeyed to that locality. the marvellous adventures met with are told in "the motor boys in mexico." leaving the buried city, the boys started again for the locality of the mine, and in the present tale are told the particulars of some strange things that happened on the way. a portion of this story is based on facts, related to me while on an automobiling tour in the west, by an old ranchman who had participated in some of the occurrences. with best wishes, and hoping we shall meet again, i leave you to peruse the pages which follow. clarence young. _march , ._ the motor boys across the plains chapter i ramming an ox cart mingled with the frantic tooting of an automobile horn, there was the shrill shrieking of the brake-band as it gripped the wheel hub in a friction clutch. "hi, bob! look out for that ox cart ahead!" exclaimed one of three sturdy youths in the touring car. "i should say so! jam on the brakes, bob!" put in the tallest of the trio, while an elderly man, who was in the rear seat with one of the boys, glanced carelessly up to see what was the trouble. "i have got the brake on, jerry!" was the answer the lad at the steering wheel made. "can't you and ned hear it screeching!" the auto was speeding down a steep hill, seemingly headed straight toward a solitary mexican who was moving slowly along in an antiquated ox-drawn vehicle. "then why don't she slow up? you've got the power off, haven't you?" "of course! do you take me for an idiot!" yelled bob, or, as his friends sometimes called him, because of his fatness, "chunky." "of course i've shut down, but something seems to be the matter with the brake pedal." "have you tried the emergency?" asked ned. "sure!" _toot! toot! toot!_ again the horn honked out a warning to the mexican, but he did not seem to hear. the big red touring car was gathering speed, in spite of the fact that it was not under power, and it bore down ever closer to the ox cart. "cut out the muffler and let him hear the explosions," suggested jerry. bob did so, and the sounds that resulted were not unlike a gatling gun battery going into action. this time the native heard. glancing back, he gave a frightened whoop and jabbed the sharp goad into the ox. the animal turned squarely across the road, thus shutting off what small chance there might have been of the auto gliding past on either side. "we're going to hit him sure!" yelled ned. "i say professor, you'd better hold on to your specimens. there's going to be all sorts of things doing in about two shakes of a rattlesnake's tail!" "what's that about a rattlesnake?" asked the old man, who, looking up from a box of bugs and stones on his lap, seemed aware, for the first time, of the danger that threatened. "hi there! get out of the way! move the cart! shake a leg! pull to one side and let us have half the road!" yelled jerry as a last desperate resort, standing up and shouting at the bewildered and frightened mexican. "oh pshaw! he don't understand united states!" cried ned. "that's so," admitted jerry ruefully. "vamoose, is the proper word for telling a mexican to get out of the road," suggested the professor calmly. "perhaps if you shouted that at him he might--" what effect trying the right word might have had the boys had no chance of learning, for, the next instant, in spite of bob's frantic working at the brake, the auto shot right at the ox cart. by the merest good luck, more than anything else, for bob could steer neither to the right nor left, because the narrow road was hemmed in by high banks, the machine struck the smaller vehicle a glancing blow. the force of the impact skidded the auto on two wheels up the side of the embankment, where, poking the front axle into a stump served to bring the car to a stop. the car was slewed around to one side, the ox was yanked from its feet, and, as the cart overturned, the mexican, yelling voluble spanish, pitched out into the road. nor did the boys and the professor come off scathless, for the sudden stopping of their machine piled the occupants on the rear seat up in a heap on the floor of the tonneau, while bob and jerry, who were in front, went sprawling into the dust near the native. for a few seconds there was no sound save the yelling of the mexican and the bellowing of the ox. then the cloud of dust slowly drifted away, and bob picked himself up, gazing ruefully about. "this is a pretty kettle of fish," he remarked. "i should say it was several of 'em," agreed jerry, trying to get some of the dust from his mouth, ears and nose. "you certainly hit him, chunky!" "it wasn't my fault! how did i know the brake wasn't going to work just the time it was most needed?" "is anybody killed?" asked the professor, looking up over the edge of the tonneau, and not releasing his hold of several boxes which contained his specimens. "don't seem to be, nor any one badly hurt, unless it's the ox or the auto," said ned, taking a look. "the mexican seems to be mad about something, though." by this time the native had arisen from his prostrate position and was shaking his fist at the motor boys and the professor, meanwhile, it would appear from his language, calling them all the names to which he could lay his tongue. "i guess he wants bob's scalp," said jerry with a smile. "it was as much his fault as mine," growled chunky. "if he had pulled to one side, i could easily have passed." the mexican, brushing the dust from his clothes, approached the auto party, and continued his rapid talk in spanish. the boys, who had been long enough in mexico to pick up considerable of the language, gathered that the native demanded two hundred dollars for the damage to himself, the cart and the ox, as well as for the injury to his dignity and feelings. "you'd better talk to him, professor," suggested jerry. "offer him what you think is right." thereupon professor snodgrass, in mild terms explained how the accident had happened, saying it was no fault of the auto party. the mexican, in language more forcible than polite, reiterated his demand, and announced that unless the money was instantly forthcoming, he would go to the nearest alcade and lodge a complaint. the travelers knew what this meant, with the endless delays of mexican justice, the summoning of witnesses and petty officers. "i wish there was some way out," said jerry. as the mexican had not been hurt, nor his cart or ox been damaged, there was really no excuse for the boys giving in to his demands. "let's give him a few dollars and skip out," suggested ned. "he can't catch us." this was easier said than done, for the auto was jammed up against a tree stump on a bank, and the ox cart, which, the native by this time had righted, blocked the road. but, all unexpectedly, there came a diversion that ended matters. professor snodgrass, with his usual care for his beloved specimens before himself, was examining the various boxes containing them. he opened one containing his latest acquisition of horned toads, big lizards, rattlesnakes and bats. the reptiles crawled, jumped and flew out, for they were all alive. "diabalo! santa maria! carramba!" exclaimed the mexican as he caught sight of the repulsive creatures. "they are crazy americanos!" he yelled. with a flying leap he jumped into his ox cart, and with goad and voice he urged the animal on to such advantage that, a few minutes later, all that was to be seen of him was a cloud of dust in the distance. "good riddance," said bob. "now to see how much our machine is damaged." fortunately the auto had struck a rotten stump, and though with considerable force, the impact was not enough to cause any serious damage. under the direction of jerry the boys managed to get the machine back into the road, where they let it stand while they went to a near-by spring for a drink of water. while they are quenching their thirst an opportunity will be taken to present them to the reader in proper form. the three boys were bob baker, son of andrew baker, a banker, ned slade, the only heir of aaron slade, a department store proprietor, and jerry hopkins, the son of a widow. all three were about seventeen years of age, and lived in the city of cresville, not far from boston, mass. their companion was professor uriah snodgrass, a learned man with many letters after his name, signifying the societies and institutions to which he belonged. those who have read the first book of this series, entitled, "the motor boys," need no introduction to the three lads. sufficient to say that some time before this story opens they had taken part in some exciting bicycle races, the winning of which resulted in the acquiring of motor cycles for each of them. on these machines they had had much fun and had also many adventures befall them. taking part in a big race meet, one of them won an event which gave him a chance to get a big touring automobile, the same car in which they were now speeding through mexico. their adventures in the auto are set forth at length in the second volume of the series entitled, "the motor boys overland," which tells of a tour across the country, in which they had to contend with their old enemy, noddy nixon, and his gang. eventually the boys and jim nestor, a miner whom they befriended, gained some information of a long lost gold mine in arizona. they made a dash for this and won it against heavy odds, after a fight with their enemies. the mine turned out well, and the boys and their friends made considerable money. the spirit of adventure would not drown in them. just before reaching the diggings they made the acquaintance of professor snodgrass, who told a wonderful story of a buried city. how the boys found this ancient town of old mexico, and the many adventures that befell them there, are told in the third book, called "the motor boys in mexico." therein is related the strange happenings under ground, of the sunken road, the old temples, the rich treasures and the fights with the bandits. also there is told of the rescue of the mexican girl maximina, and how she was taken from a band of criminals and restored to her friends. these happenings brought the boys and the professor to the city of mexico, where the auto was given a good overhauling, to prepare it for the trip back to the united states. the boys and the professor, the latter bearing with him his beloved specimens, started back for civilization, keeping to the best and most frequented roads, to avoid the brigands, with whom they had had more than one adventure on their first trip. it was while on this homeward journey that the incident of the mexican and the ox cart befell them. having slaked their thirst the boys and the professor went back to the auto where, gathering up the belongings that had become scattered from the upset, they prepared to resume their journey. "get in; i'll run her for a while," said jerry. "one minute! stand still! don't move if you value my happiness!" exclaimed the professor suddenly, dropping down on his hands and knees, and creeping forward through the long grass. chapter ii a nest of serpents "what is it; a rattlesnake?" asked bob, in a hoarse whisper. "or a gila monster?" inquired ned. "quiet! no noise!" cautioned the professor. "i see a specimen worth ten dollars at the lowest calculation. i'll have him in a minute." "is it a bug?" asked chunky. "there! i have him!" yelled the scientist, making a sudden dive forward, sliding on his face, and clutching his hand deep into the grass. as it happened there was a little puddle of water at that point, and the professor, in the excess of his zeal, pitched right into it. "oh! oh my! oh dear! phew! wow! help! save me!" he exclaimed a moment later, as he tried to get out of the slough. the boys hurried to his aid, but the mud was soft and the professor had gone head first into the ooze, which held fast to him as though it was quicksand. "get him by the heels and yank him out or he'll smother!" cried jerry. the other boys followed his advice, and, in a little while the bug-collector was pulled from his uncomfortable and dangerous position. as he rolled about in the grass to get rid of some of the mud, he kept his right hand tightly closed. "what's the matter, are your fingers hurt?" asked bob. "no sir, my fingers are not hurt!" snapped the professor, with the faintest tinge of impatience, which might be excused on the part of a man who has just dived into a mud hole. "my fingers are not hurt in the least. what i have here is one of the rarest specimens of the mexican mosquito i have ever seen. i would go ten miles to get one." "i guess you're welcome to 'em," commented jerry. "we don't want any." "that's because you don't understand the value of this specimen," replied the professor. "this mosquito will add to my fame, and i shall devote one whole chapter of my four books to it. this indeed has been a lucky day for me." "and unlucky for the rest of us," said bob, as he thought of the spill. it was found that a few minor repairs had to be made to the auto, and when these were completed it was nearly noon. "i vote we have dinner before we start again," spoke bob. "there goes chunky!" exclaimed ned. "never saw him when he wasn't thinking of something to eat!" "well, i guess if the truth was known you are just as hungry as i am," expostulated chunky. "this mexican air gives me a good appetite." bob's plan was voted a good one, so, with supplies and materials carried in the auto for camping purposes, a fire was soon built, and hot chocolate was being made. "i'm sick of canned stuff and those endless eggs, frijoles and tortillas," complained bob. "i'd like a good beefsteak and some fish and bread and butter." "i don't know about the other things, but i think we could get some fish over in that little brook," said the professor, pointing to a stream that wound about the base of a near-by hill. a minute later the boys had their hooks and lines out. poles were cut from trees, and, with some pieces of canned meat for bait they went fishing. they caught several large white fish, which the professor named in long latin terms, and which, he said, were good to eat. in a little while a savory smell filled the air, for ned, who volunteered to act as cook, had put the fish on to broil with some strips of bacon, and soon there was a dinner fit for any king that ever wielded a scepter. sipping their chocolate, the boys and the professor watched the sun slowly cross the zenith as they reclined in the shade of the big trees on either side of the road. then each one half fell asleep in the lazy atmosphere. jerry was the first to rouse up. he looked and saw it would soon be dusk, and then he awakened the others. "we'll have to travel, unless we want to sleep out in the open," he said. thereupon they made preparations to leave, the professor gathering up his specimens, including the mexican mosquito that had caused him such labor. "i think we'll head straight for the rio grande," said jerry. "once we get into texas i expect we'll have some news from nestor, as i wrote him to let us know how the mine was getting on, and, also, to inform us if he needed any help." "i'll be glad to see old jim again," said bob. "so will i," chimed in ned. the auto was soon chug-chugging over the road, headed toward the states, and the occupants were engaged with their thoughts. it was rapidly growing dusk, and the chief anxiety was to reach some town or village where they could spend the night. for, though they were used to staying in the open, they did not care to, now that the rainy season was coming on, when fevers were prevalent. the sun sank slowly to rest behind the big wooded hills as the auto glided along, and, almost before the boys realized it, darkness was upon them. "better light the lamps," suggested ned. "no telling what we'll run into on this road. no use colliding with more ox carts, if we can help it." "i'll light up," volunteered bob. "it will give me a chance to stretch my legs. i'm all cramped up from sitting still so long." jerry brought the big machine to a stop while bob alighted and proceeded to illuminate the big search lamp and the smaller ones that burned oil. he had just started the acetylene gas aglow when, glancing forward he gave a cry of alarm. "what is it?" cried jerry, seeing that something was wrong. "is it a mountain lion?" "it's worse!" cried bob in a frightened voice. "what?" "a regular den of snakes! the horrible things are stretched right across the road, and we can't get past. ugh! there are some whoppers!" bob, who hated, above all creatures a snake, made a jump into the auto. "there's about a thousand of 'em!" he cried with a shudder. "great!" exclaimed the professor. "i will have a chance to select some fine specimens. this is a rare fortune!" "don't go out there!" gasped bob. "you'll be bitten to death!" just then there sounded on the stillness of the night a strange, whirring buzz. at the sound of it the professor started. "rattlers!" he whispered. "i guess none of us will get out. probably moccasins, cotton-mouths and vipers! there must be thousands of them!" as he spoke he looked over the side of the car, and the exclamation he gave caused the boys to glance toward the ground. there they beheld a sight that filled them with terror. as the professor had said, the ground was literally covered with the snakes. the reptiles seemed to be moving in a vast body to some new location. there were big snakes and little ones, round fat ones, and long thin ones, and of many hues. "let's get out of this!" exclaimed ned. "start the machine, jerry!" "no! don't!" called the professor. "you may kill a few, but the revolving wheels of the auto will fling some live ones up among us, and i have no desire to be bitten by any of these reptiles. they are too deadly. so keep the car still until they have passed. they are probably getting ready to go into winter quarters, or whatever corresponds to that in mexico." "it will be lucky if they don't take a notion to climb up and investigate the machine and us," put in jerry. "i have--" he gave a sudden start, for, at that instant one of the ugly reptiles, which had twined itself around the wheel spokes, reared its ugly head up, over the side of the front seat, and hissed, right in jerry's face. "here's one now!" the boy exclaimed as he made a motion to brush the snake aside. "don't touch it as you value your life!" yelled the professor. "it's a diamond-backed rattler, and one of the most deadly!" "here is another coming up on my side," called bob. "yes, and there are some coming up here!" shouted ned. "they'll overwhelm us if we don't look out!" for a time it seemed a serious matter. the snakes began twining up the sides of the car, and, though most of them dropped back to the ground again, a few maintained their position, and seemed to exhibit anger at the sight of the boys and the professor. "what shall we do?" asked bob. "we can't run ahead, or go backward, and, if we stay here we're likely to be killed by the snakes." jerry, who was feeling around in the bottom of the car for his rifle, gave a cry as his hand came in contact with something. "get bitten?" asked the professor in alarm. "no, but i found this lariat," said jerry in excited tones. "are you going to lasso the snakes?" asked ned, wondering if jerry had gone crazy. "no, but you see this lariat is made of horse hair, and i think i can keep the snakes away with it." "how; by shaking it at 'em?" "no. i read in some book that snakes hated horse hair, and would never cross even a small ring of it." "well?" "well, if i run this lariat all around the auto the snakes will not cross it to come to us. then we can stay here until they all disappear." "good!" exclaimed ned. "that's the ticket!" the reptiles that had climbed up the wheels had gone from sight. with the help of ned and bob, jerry began to spread the horse-hair lariat in a circle about the car. chapter iii the deserted cabin in a few minutes the hair rope was all about the auto, spread out on the ground in an irregular circle. as the boys dropped it over the sides of the car the lariat struck several of the big snakes, and the reptiles shrunk away as though scorched by fire. "they're afraid of it all right!" exclaimed ned. "i guess it will do the business." sure enough, there seemed to be a desire on the part of the snakes to clear out of the vicinity of the hair rope. they glided off by scores, and soon there was a clear space all about the car, where, before, there had been hundreds of the crawling things. "shake the lasso," suggested bob, "and maybe it will scare them farther off." "yes and we might try shooting a few now they are at a safe distance," put in ned. "it's too bad i can't get some specimens," lamented the professor, "but i suppose you had better try to get rid of them." so jerry, who had retained one end of the long lasso vibrated it rapidly, and, as it wiggled in sinuous folds toward the reptiles they made haste to get out of the way. then bob and ned opened fire, killing several. in a little while there were no snakes to be seen. "i guess we can go ahead now," said jerry. "who'll crank up the car? don't all speak at once." "my arm is a bit sore," spoke ned, rubbing his elbow. "then you do it, chunky," asked the steersman. "i think i have a stone in my foot," said bob, making a wry face. "ha! ha!" laughed jerry. "why don't you two own up and say you're afraid there's a stray rattler or two under the machine, and you think it may bite you?" the two boys grinned sheepishly, and both made a motion to get out. "stay where you are," called the professor preparing to leave from the side door of the tonneau. "i'm used to snakes. i don't believe there are any left, but if there are i want them for specimens. i'll crank the car." so he got out and peered anxiously under the body, while the boys waited in anxiety. "no," called the scientist, in discouraged tones, "there are none left." he crawled out, covered with dust, which fact he did not seem to mind, and then turned the crank that sent the fly wheel over. jerry turned on the gasolene and threw in the spark, and, the next instant the familiar chug-chug of the engine told that the auto was ready to bear the boys and professor snodgrass on their way. they were headed on as straight a road as they could find to the rio grande, but, because of the conditions of the thoroughfares it would be several days before they could cross the big river and get into texas. their main concern now was to reach some place where there was shelter for the night. "keep your eyes peeled for villages," called ned. "we don't want to pass any. i think a good bed would go fine now." "a supper would go better," put in bob. "oh, of course! it wouldn't be chunky if he didn't say something about eating," remarked jerry with a laugh. "but there seems to be something ahead. it's a house at all events, and probably is the mark of the outskirts of the village." on the left side of the road, about a hundred yards ahead they saw an adobe, or mud hut. they could see no signs of life about in the half-darkness, illuminated as it was by the powerful search light, but this gave them no concern, as they knew the native mexicans retired early. when they came opposite the hut jerry brought the machine to a stop, and he and the other boys jumped out. the professor, who, as usual was arranging some specimens in one of the many small boxes he carried, remained in the car. "hello!" shouted bob. "is any one home? show a light. can we get a supper here?" "why don't you ask for a bed too?" inquired ned. "supper first," replied chunky, rubbing his stomach with a reflective air. no replies came to the hail of the boys, and, in some wonder they approached nearer to the hut. then they saw that the door was ajar, and that the cabin bore every appearance of being deserted. "nobody home, i guess," said jerry. "no, and there hasn't been for some time," added ned. "maybe there's a place to build a fire where we can cook a good meal," put in bob, whereat his companions laughed. they went into the hut, and found, that, while it was in good condition, and furnished as well as the average native mexican's abode, there was no sign of life. "might as well make ourselves to home," said ned. "come on in, professor," he called. "we'll stay here all night. no use traveling further when there is such a good shelter right at hand." it was now quite dark, and the boys brought in the two oil lamps from the auto, as well as a lantern, to illuminate the place. as they did so they disturbed a colony of bats which flew out with a great flutter of wings. "there's a charcoal stove, and plenty of fuel," said bob, as he looked at the hearth. "now we can cook something." "well, seeing you are so fond of eating, we'll let you get the meal," said jerry, and it was voted that chunky should perform this office. meanwhile the others brought in blankets to make beds on the frame work of cane that formed the sleeping quarters of whoever had last lived in the hut. "rather queer sort of a shack," remarked jerry, as he sat down in a corner on a pile of rugs. "seems to have been left suddenly. they didn't even stop to take the dishes, and here is the remains of a meal," and he pointed to some dried frijoles in one corner of the main room or kitchen. "perhaps the people who lived here were frightened away," came from ned. "well i'm tired enough not to let anything short of a regiment of soldiers in action scare me awake to-night," said jerry. under bob's direction supper was soon ready, and the travelers sat down to a good, if rather limited meal as far as variety went. there were no dishes to be washed, for they ate off wooden plates, of which they had a quantity and which they threw away after each meal. then, after a good fire had been built on the hearth--for the night was likely to be chilly--the boys and the professor wrapped themselves up in their blankets and soon fell asleep. jerry must have been slumbering for several hours when he suddenly awakened as he heard a loud noise. "who's there?" he called involuntarily, sitting up. it was so dark that at first he could distinguish nothing, but, as his eyes became used to the blackness he managed to make out, by the glow of the fire, a shadowy figure gliding toward the door. "who's there?" called the boy sharply, feeling under the rolled up blanket that served for a pillow, for his revolver. "stop or i'll fire!" the shadowy figure halted. then jerry saw it drop down on all fours and begin to creep toward him. though he was not a coward the boy felt his heart beating strangely, and he had a queer, creepy sensation down his spine. "what's the matter?" asked ned, who was awakened by jerry's voice. "get your revolver, quick!" called jerry. "there is some one in the hut besides ourselves! look over by the fire!" "i see it! shall i shoot?" asked ned. there came a sudden crash, followed by a wild yell. "help! help! i'm killed! they are murdering me!" shouted bob's voice. "they are choking me to death!" _bang!_ went ned's gun. fortunately it was aimed at the ceiling, or some one might have been hurt. "what's the trouble?" inquired the professor, who only just then awoke. "robbers!" yelled bob. "brigands!" exclaimed ned. "some one is in the cabin!" cried jerry. by this time he had managed to creep over toward the fire, on which he threw some light wood. the glowing embers caught it, and as the blaze flared up it revealed a big monkey tangled up amid the folds of bob's blanket, while chunky was buried somewhere beneath the pile. the beast was struggling wildly to escape, but bob, in his terror, had grabbed it by a leg. "stop your noise!" commanded jerry. "you're not hurt, chunky!" "are you sure they haven't killed me?" asked bob, releasing his hold on the beast, which, with a wild chatter of fear, fled from the hut. "you ought to be able to give the best evidence on that score," said jerry, as he lighted one of the lamps. "the fellow tried to choke me," sputtered bob. "i guess the poor beast was as badly scared as you were," remarked the professor. "it was probably attracted in here by the light and warmth. well, we seem bound to run up against excitement, night as well as day." "the monkey must have knocked something over," said jerry. "i was awakened by the sound of something falling." they looked and saw that the beast had tried to eat the remains of the supper, and had upset a big pot. "i was sure it was a man, at first," explained jerry, "and when i saw it go down and start over toward me i was afraid it was some of those mexican brigands that traveled with vasco bilette and noddy nixon, when those rascals were on our trail." it was some time before the excitement caused by the monkey's visit died down sufficiently to allow the travelers to go to sleep again. it was morning when they awoke, and prepared to get breakfast. "we need some water to make coffee," said jerry, who had agreed to get the morning meal. "as chief cook and bottle washer i delegate bob to find some. take the pail in the auto." bob started for the receptacle, and, as he reached the door of the hut he gave a cry. "what's the matter?" called jerry and ned. "there's a man out here," replied bob. "well, he won't bite you," said jerry. "who is he?" "pardon, senors," called a voice, and then, into the hut staggered a mexican, who bore evidences of having passed through a hard fight. his face was cut and bruised, one arm hung limply at his side, and his clothing was torn. "what's the matter?" cried jerry. before the stranger could reply he had fallen forward in a faint. "bring some water! quick!" called ned. "let me see to him! i have a little liquor here!" exclaimed the professor, kneeling down beside the prostrate form. chapter iv news from the mine by the use of the strong stimulant the mexican was revived. his eyes opened, and he sat up, muttering something in spanish which the boys could not catch. the professor, however, made reply, and, at the words the stranger seemed to brighten up. he drank some water, and then, at the suggestion of mr. snodgrass the boys brought him some food, which the native ate as if he had fasted for a week. his hunger satisfied, he began to talk rapidly to the professor, who listened attentively. "what's the trouble?" asked jerry at length. "it seems that the poor man lives in this hut," explained the scientist. "night before last some robbers came in, took nearly everything he had and beat him. then, driving him into the forest they left him. only just now did he dare to venture back, fearing to find his enemies in possession of his home. he is weak from lack of food and from the treatment he received." the boys felt sorry for the mexican, and, at jerry's suggestion they gave him a sum of money, which, while it was small enough to the travelers, meant a great deal to the native. he poured forth voluble thanks. as the boys and the professor were anxious to get under way, a start was made as soon as it was found that the native was not badly hurt, and that he was able to summon help from friends in a near-by village if necessary. with final leave-takings the travelers started off. for several days and nights they journeyed north, toward the rio grande, which river separated them from the united states. once they crossed that they would be in texas. "and we can't get there any too soon," remarked bob, one morning after a sleepless night, passed in the open, during which innumerable fleas attacked the travelers. it was toward dusk, one evening, about a week after having left the city of mexico that the boys and the professor found themselves on a road, which, upon inquiry led to a small mexican town, on the bank of the rio grande, nearly opposite eagle pass, texas. "shall we cross over to-night or wait until morning?" asked the professor of the boys. "probably it would be better to wait until daylight. i could probably gather a few more specimens then." this was something of which the scientist, who rejoiced in such letters as a.m.; ph.d.; m.d.; f. r. g. s.; a. g. s., etc., after his name, all indicating some college honor conferred upon him, never seemed to tire. he was making a collection for his own college, as well as gathering data for four large books, which, some day, he intended to issue. "i'd rather get over on our land if we can," said ned, and he seemed to voice the sentiments of the others. so it was decided, somewhat against the professor's wish, to run the automobile on the big flat-bottomed scow, which served as a ferry, and proceed across the stream. quite a crowd of villagers came out to see the auto as it chug-chugged up to the ferry landing, and not a few of the children and dogs were in danger of being run over until ned, who was steering, cut out the muffler, and the explosions of the gasolene, unconfined by any pipes, made so much noise that all except the grown men were frightened away. there was no one at the ferry house, and after diligent inquiries it was learned that the captain and crew of the boat had gone off to a dance about five miles away. "i guess we'll have to stay on this side after all," remarked the professor. "i think--" what he thought he did not say, for just then he happened to catch sight of something on the shoulder of one of the mexicans, who had gathered in a fringe about the machine. "stand still, my dear man!" called the professor, as with cat-like tread he crept toward the native. "diabalo! santa maria! carramba!" muttered the man, thinking, evidently, that the old scientist was out of his wits. "don't move! please don't move!" pleaded mr. snodgrass, forgetting in his excitement that his hearer could not understand his language. "there is a beautiful specimen of a mexican katy-did on your coat. if i get it i will have a specimen worth at least thirty dollars!" he made a sudden motion. the mexican mistook the import of it, and, seemingly thinking he was about to be assaulted, raised his hand in self defense, and aimed a blow at the professor. it was only a glancing one, but it knocked the scientist down, and he fell into the road. "there, the katy-did got away after all," mr. snodgrass exclaimed, not seeming to mind his personal mishap in the least. this time the professor spoke in spanish. the mexican understood, and was profuse in his apologies. he conversed rapidly with his companions, and, all at once there was a wild scramble after katy-dids. so successful was the hunt that the professor was fairly burdened with the insects. he took as many as he needed, and thanked his newly found friends for their efforts. matters quieted down after a bit. darkness fell rapidly and, the mexican on whom the professor had seen the katy-did invited the travelers to dine with him. he proved to be one of the principal men of the village, and his house, though not large, was well fitted up. the boys and the professor enjoyed the best meal they had eaten since leaving the city of mexico. "do me the honor to spend the night here," said the mexican, after the meal. "thank you, if it will not disturb your household arrangements, we will," replied the professor. "we must make an early start, however, and cross the river the first thing in the morning." "it will be impossible," replied senor gerardo, their host. "why so?" "because to-morrow starts the feast of san juarez, which lasts for three days, and not a soul in town, including the ferry-master, will work in that time." "what are we to do?" asked mr. snodgrass. "if you do not cross to-night you will not be able to make the passage until the end of the week," was the answer. "then let's start to-night," spoke jerry. "we went over the rio grande after dark once before." "yes, and a pretty mess we made of it," said ned, referring to the collision they had with the house-boat, as told of in "the motor boys in mexico." "but i thought they said the ferry-master was away to a dance," put in bob. "he is, senor," replied their host, who managed to understand the boy's poor spanish. "however, if he knew the americanos wanted him, and would go for him in their big marvelous--fire-spitting wagon, and--er--that is if they offered him a small sum, he might be prevailed upon to leave the dance." "let's try it, at all events," suggested jerry. "i'm anxious to get over the line and into the united states. a stay of several days may mean one of a week. when these mexicans get feasting they don't know when to stop." he spoke in english, so as not to offend their kind friend. it was arranged that jerry and senor gerardo should go in the auto for the ferry-master, and summon him to the river with his men, who could come on their fast ponies. this was done, and, though the master of the boat demurred at leaving the pleasures of the dance, he consented when jerry casually showed a gold-piece. he and his men were soon mounted and galloped along, jerry running the auto slowly to keep pace with them. the five miles were quickly covered and, while half the population of the village came out to see the strange machine ferried over, the boys and the professor bade farewell to the country where they had gone through so many strange adventures. it was nearly ten o'clock when the big flat-bottomed boat grounded on the opposite shore of the rio grande. "hurrah for the united states!" exclaimed bob. "now i can get a decent meal without having to swallow red peppers, onions and chocolate!" "there goes chunky again," laughingly complained ned. "no sooner does he land than he wants to feed his stomach. i believe if he had been with christopher columbus the first thing he would have inquired about on landing at san salvador would be what the indians had good to eat." "oh you're as bad as i am, every bit!" said bob. eagle's pass, where the travelers landed, was a typical texas town, with what passed for a hotel, a store and a few houses where the small population lived. it was on the edge of the border prairies and the outlying districts were occupied by cattle ranches. nearly all, if not quite all, of the male population came down to the dock to see the unusual sight of a big touring automobile on the ferry boat. many were the comments made by the ranchmen and herders. after much pulling and hauling the car was rolled from the big scow, and the travelers, glad to feel that they were once more in their own country, began to think of a place to spend the night. "where is the nearest hotel?" asked jerry of a man in the crowd. "ain't but one, stranger, an' it's right in front of you," was the reply, as the cowboy pointed to a small, one story building across the street from the river front. "is professor driedgrass in that bunch?" asked a voice as the travelers were contemplating the hostelry. "if he is i have a letter for him." "i am professor snodgrass," replied the scientist, looking toward the man who had last spoken. "beg your pardon, professor snodgrass. i kinder got my brands mixed," the stranger went on. "anyhow i'm th' postmaster here, an' i've been holdin' a letter for ye most a week. it says it's to be delivered to a man with three boys an' a choo-choo wagon, an' that description fits you." "where's it from?" asked mr. snodgrass. "come in a letter to me, from a feller named nestor, up at a place in the mining section," was the reply. "th' letter to me said you might likely pass this way on your journey back." chapter v trouble ahead "i remember now, i did write to nestor, telling him we were about to start back, and would probably cross the river at this place," spoke the professor. "i had forgotten all about it." "well, here's your letter," said the postmaster. "now allow me to welcome you to our city, which i do in the name of the mayor--which individual you see in me--and the common council, which consists of pete blaston, only he ain't here, in consequent of bein' locked up for disturbin' th' peace an' quiet of the community by shootin' a greaser." "glad to meet you, i am sure," replied the scientist politely, as he received the letter from the dual official. "what is the news from nestor?" asked jerry anxiously. "is the mine all right?" "i'll tell you right away," replied mr. snodgrass, as, by the light of the gas lantern on the auto he read the letter. as he glanced rapidly over the pages his face took on an anxious look. "is there anything wrong?" asked ned. "there is indeed," replied the professor gravely. "the letter was written over a week ago, and, among other things nestor says there is likely to be trouble over the mine." "what kind? is noddy nixon trying to get it away from us again?" asked jerry. "no," replied mr. snodgrass. "it appears our title is not as good as it might be. there is one of the former owners of the land where the mine is located who did not sign the deed. he was missing when the transfer was made, but nestor did not know this, so there is a cloud on our title." "but i thought we claimed the land from the government, and were the original owners," put in ned. "it seems that a company of men owned the mine before we did, but they sold out to nestor and some of his friends. they all signed the deed but this one man, and now some one has learned of this, and seeks to take the mine, on the theory that they have as good a claim to the holding as we have." "i should say that was trouble," sighed bob. "to think of losing what we worked so hard to get!" "well, there's no use crossing a bridge until you come to it," professor snodgrass went on. "nestor and his friends are in possession yet, and that, you know, is nine of the ten points of the law." "then if we can't do anything right away i move we have something to eat," suggested bob. "it's a good suggestion," agreed the scientist. they had drawn a little to one side from the crowd of townspeople while talking about the letter from nestor, but, having decided there was nothing to be done at present, they moved toward the hotel. "i reckon i've got some more mail for your outfit, professor hayseed--er i beg yer pardon--snodgrass," said the postmaster-mayor. "there's letters fer chaps named baker, slade and hopkins. nestor sent 'em along with that other," and the dual official handed over three envelopes. "they're from home!" cried the boys in a chorus. and in the glare of oil lamps on the porch of the hotel they read the communications. the missives contained nothing but good news, to the effect that all the loved ones were well. each one inquired anxiously how much longer the travelers expected to stay away, and urged them to come home as soon as they could. "now for that supper!" exclaimed bob, as he put his letter away. if the meal was a rough one, prepared as it was by the chinese cook, it was good, and the travelers enjoyed it thoroughly. as they rose from the table a cowboy entered the dining room and drawled out: "i say strangers, be you th' owners of that there rip-snortin' specimen of th' lower regions that runs on four wheels tied 'round with big sassages?" "do you mean the automobile?" asked jerry. "i reckon i do, if that's what ye call it." "yes, it's our machine," replied jerry. "then if ye have any great love for th' workin' of it in the future, an' any regard or consideration for it's feelin' ye ought t' see to it." "why so?" "nothin'," drawled the cowboy as he carefully pared his nails with a big bowie knife; "nothin' only bronco pete is amusin' his self by tryin' t' see how near he can come to stickin' his scalpin' steel inter th' tires!" "great scott! we must stop that!" exclaimed jerry, running from the hotel toward where the auto had been left in the street. the other boys and the professor followed. they found the machine surrounded by quite a crowd that seemed to be much amused at something which was taking place in its midst. making their way to the inner circle of spectators the boys beheld an odd sight. a big cowboy, who, from appearances had indulged too freely in something stronger than water, was unsteadily trying to stick his big knife into the rubber tires. "here! you mustn't do that," cried jerry, sharply, laying his hand on the man's shoulder. "look out for him! he's dangerous!" warned some of the bystanders. "i can't help it if he is," replied jerry. "we can't let him ruin the tires." "this is the time i do it!" cried bronco pete, as he made a lunge for the front wheel. jerry sprang forward and the crowd held its breath, for it seemed as if the boy was right in the path of the knife. but jerry knew what he was about. with a quick motion he kicked the cowboy lightly on the wrist, the blow knocking the knife from his hand, and sending it some distance away. "look out now, sonny!" called a man to jerry. "no one ever hit pete an' lived after it." it seemed that jerry was in a dangerous position. pete, enraged at being foiled of his purpose, uttered a beast-like roar, and reached back to where his revolver rested at his hip in a belt. jerry never moved an inch, but looked the man straight in the eye. "here! none of that pete!" called a voice suddenly, and a big man pushed his way through the crowd, and grabbed the cowboy's arm before he had time to draw his gun. "if you don't want to get into trouble move on!" "all right, marshall; all right," replied pete, the desire of shooting seeming to die out as he looked at the newcomer. "i were only havin' a little fun with th' tenderfoot." "you didn't appear to scare him much," remarked the town marshall, who had seen the whole thing. "you had your nerve with you all right, son," he added, to jerry. "that's what he had," commented pete. "there ain't many men would have done what he did, an' i admire him for it. put it there, stranger," and pete, all the anger gone from him, extended a big hand, which jerry grasped heartily. "three cheers for the 'tenderfoot,'" called some one, and they were given with a will for jerry, as pete, under the guidance of the marshall, moved unsteadily away. "i wouldn't have been in your boots one spell there, for a good bit," observed the postmaster as he came up. "pete's about as bad as they come." "i didn't stop to think of the danger, or maybe i wouldn't have done as i did," said jerry. "all i thought of was that he would spoil the tire, and it would take a long while to fix it." "yes, and we don't want to delay any longer than we can help," spoke ned in a low voice. "i'm anxious to get back to the mine and see what we can do to perfect our title." chapter vi on a strange road for several days they made good progress, for the roads were in fair condition. the machine was kept headed as nearly as possible toward arizona, though they often had to go some distance out of their way to get rid of bad places, or find a ford or bridge to cross a stream. "we'll soon be out of texas," remarked bob one afternoon, when they had passed through a small ranch town where they had dinner. "and i think we're going to get a wetting before we leave the big state," put in ned. "i think you're right," agreed the professor, as he turned and looked at a bank of ugly dark clouds in the southwest. "a thunder shower is coming up, if i'm any judge. there doesn't seem to be any shelter, either." as far as they could see there was nothing but a vast stretch of wild country, though, far to the north, there was a dark patch which looked as if it was a forest. "it's coming just at the wrong time," remarked jerry, who was steering. "i was in hopes the storm would hold off a bit. well, we shan't melt if it does rain." and that it was soon going to pour in the proverbial buckets full was evident. the wind began to blow a half gale, and the clouds, from which angry streaks of jagged lightning leaped, scurried forward. at the same time low mutterings of thunder were heard. "we're in for it," cried bob. the next instant the storm broke, and the whole landscape was blotted out in a veil of mist and rain which came down in sheets of water. now and then the darkness would be illuminated by a vivid flash of fire from the sky artillery, and the thunder seemed to shake the earth. jerry could barely see where to steer, so fiercely did the rain beat down. fortunately they had time to put on their raincoats before the deluge hit them. the provisions and other things in the auto had, likewise, been covered up with canvas, so little damage would result from the downpour. "look out!" yelled ned suddenly to jerry. "there's something ahead of us!" jerry partially shut off the power, and, as the machine slowed down, he and the others peered forward to see what the object was. "it's some sort of an animal!" cried bob, who had sharp eyes. "it's running along on four legs, right in front of the car!" "it's a bear, that's what it is!" shouted ned. "a big black bear!" "let me get it for a specimen!" exclaimed the professor, in his enthusiasm, not considering the size of the animal, nor the difficulties in the way of capturing it. "let me get out! it's worth forty dollars if it's worth a cent!" at the sound of the excited voices, which the animal must have heard above the roar of the storm, the bear turned suddenly and faced the occupants of the car. so quickly was it done that jerry had barely time to jam on the brakes in order to avoid a collision. "why didn't you run him down, and we could have some bear steaks for supper?" asked bob. "because i don't think it's just healthy to run into a three hundred and fifty pound bear with a big auto," replied jerry. "we might kill the bear, but we'd be sure to damage the car." the beast did not appear to be frightened at the sight of his natural enemies. raising on its haunches the animal slowly ambled toward the stalled machine, growling in a menacing manner. "i believe he's going to attack us!" exclaimed the professor. "let me get out my rifle!" but this was easier said than done. the weapons and ammunition were all under the canvas, and it would require several minutes to get at them. in the meanwhile the bear, showing every indication of rage was trying to climb up on the engine hood, despite the throbbing of the engine, which was going, though the gears were not thrown in. "start the car and run over him!" exclaimed bob. "back up and get out of his way!" was ned's advice to jerry. "i've got to do something," muttered the steersman. matters were getting critical. the storm was increasing in violence, with the wind lashing the rain into the faces of the travelers. the growls of the angry beast mingled with the rumble and rattle of thunder, and the machine was shaking under the efforts bruin made to climb over the hood and into the front seat. "hold on tight! i'm going to start!" yelled jerry suddenly. he threw in the intermediate gear and opened wide the gasolene throttle. the car sprang forward like a thing alive. but the bear had too good a hold with his long sharp claws sticking in the ventilator holes of the hood, to be shaken off. "i should think he'd burn on the water radiator," said ned. "his fur's too thick i guess," was bob's reply. on went the auto, the boys and the professor clinging to it for dear life, while bruin hung on, half crazed with fear and anger. "how you going to get rid of him?" shouted ned above the roar of the storm. "i'll show you," replied jerry grimly. some distance ahead the steersman had seen a sharp curve in the road. it was dimly discernible through the mist of water. "hold tight everybody!" shouted jerry a second or two before the turn was reached. then, suddenly swinging around it, at as sharp an angle as he dared to make and not overturn the car, jerry sent the auto skidding. the next instant, unable to stand the impetus of the turn, the bear lost its hold on the hood, and was flung, like a stone from a catapult, far off to the left, rolling over and over on the muddy ground. "there, i guess it will be quite a while before he tries to eat up another live automobile," remarked jerry as he slowed up a bit. off in the distance they heard a sort of reproachful whine, as if bruin objected to such treatment. then the rain came down harder than ever, and all sight of the bear was lost. "let's get out of this!" exclaimed ned, as he felt a small stream of water trickling down his back. "can't we strike for those woods we saw a while ago?" "i'm headed for them," spoke jerry. "i just want to get my bearings. guess we'd better light up, as it will soon be dusk." after some difficulty in getting matches to burn in the wind and rain, the big search lights and the oil lanterns were lighted, and then, with four shafts of light cutting the misty darkness ahead of them the travelers proceeded. the roads seemed to be getting worse, but there was nothing to do except to keep on. every now and then the machine would lurch into some hollow with force enough to almost break the springs. "hello!" cried jerry suddenly. "here are two roads. which shall we take?" "the right seems to go a little more directly north," said the professor, peering forward. "suppose we take that?" "especially as it seems to be the better road," added jerry. he turned the machine into it, and, to the surprise of all they felt the thoroughfare become hard and firm as the auto tires rolled over it. it was almost as smooth as asphalt, and the travelers were congratulating themselves on having made a wise choice. all at once the rain, which had been coming down in torrents, seemed to let up. "i believe it's clearing up," said bob. "no, it's because we've run into a dense forest, and the trees above keep the rain off," spoke the professor. the others looked about them and saw that this was so. on every side the glare of the lamps showed big trunks and leafy branches, while ahead more trees could be observed. "why it's just like a tunnel in the woods," said bob. "see, the trees seem to meet in an arch overhead." "and what a fine road it is," put in ned. "an altogether strange sort of road," agreed jerry. "suppose we stop and look about before we go any further? i don't like the looks of it." accordingly the machine was brought to a halt, and the travelers alighted. they found it just as bob had said, almost exactly like an immense tunnel in the forest. beneath their feet the road was of the finest macadam construction. "and to think of finding this in the midst of texas," observed jerry. "some one built this road, and cut the trees to make this tunnel," remarked the professor. "i wonder what sort of a place we have stumbled into." "at all events it doesn't rain anything to speak of in here," said bob, "and it's a good place to stay until the storm is over." jerry, in the meanwhile had walked on ahead some distance. in a few minutes he came hurrying back. his manner showed that he had seen something. "what is it?" asked the professor. "don't make any noise, but follow me," replied the lad. in silence, and wondering what was about to happen, bob, ned and the scientist trailed after jerry. he led them several hundred feet ahead of the automobile, and away from the glare of the lamps, the tunnel curving somewhat. "see!" whispered jerry, hoarsely. "well, i never!" "that's queer!" there, about three hundred feet to the left of the main road and on a sort of side path, the travelers saw a small hut, brilliantly lighted up. through an open window, a room could be seen, and several figures moving about in it. chapter vii the rescue of tommy bell "i wonder who they can be, to hide off in the woods this way," whispered bob. the next instant there floated out from the hut a cry of anguish. it was the voice of a boy, seemingly in great pain or fear, and the travelers heard the words: "oh don't! please don't! you are killing me! i don't know! i can't tell you, for i would if i could! oh! oh! please don't burn me again!" "it's a gang torturing some one!" almost shouted ned. "let's go to the rescue!" he would have sprung forward had not jerry laid a detaining hand on his arm. "wait, ned," counseled jerry. "some one there evidently needs our help, but we must go with caution. first we must get our guns. we may need them!" once more the appealing cry burst out. "quick!" whispered jerry. "professor, you and bob go back for the rifles, and bring the bulls-eye lantern that has the dark slide to it. ned and i will stay here and watch!" mr. snodgrass and bob lost no time. in less than five minutes they had rejoined ned and jerry. "has anything happened?" asked bob. "nothing since," whispered jerry. "now we will go forward. every one have his gun ready. i will carry the lantern." almost as silently as shadows the four figures stole forward, jerry showing a cautious gleam now and then to guide them on their way. they found there was a fairly good path leading up to the hut. they had covered half the distance when once more the cries of anguish burst out. this time they were followed by angry shouts, seemingly from several men, and voices in dispute could be heard. "one of us had better creep forward and see what is going on inside the cabin," whispered jerry. "we must know what sort of enemies we have to meet." "i'll go," volunteered bob. "better let me," suggested the professor. "i have had some experience in stalking animals, and i can probably advance more quietly than you can." they all saw the reasonableness of this and the scientist started off. like a cat he made an advance until he was so close to the hut that he could peer into the uncurtained window. what he saw made him start back in terror. in the room were half a dozen roughly dressed men, all armed, and with brutal faces. the room was filled with smoke from cigars and pipes, and cards were scattered over a rough table in the middle of the apartment. but what attracted the attention of the professor and made his heart beat fast in anger, was the sight of a small, pale boy, bound with ropes up against a big stone fireplace, on the hearth of which logs were burning. in front of the lad stood one of the largest and strongest of the tough gang, and in his hand he held a redhot poker, which, as the scientist watched, he brought close to the bare legs of the terror-stricken lad. then came again those heart-rending cries: "oh don't! please don't! i would tell you where he is if i knew! please don't burn me again!" the professor's blood boiled. "we'll soon put a stop to this horrible work!" he exclaimed to himself as he glided back to where the boys were and quickly made them acquainted with what he had seen. "come on!" cried jerry. "we must rescue that boy!" as softly as they could, the travelers advanced toward the hut. they found the door and, while the others with rifles in readiness stood in a semi-circle about it, jerry made ready to knock and demand admittance. "if they don't open the door we must burst it in," said the boy. "the professor and i will look to that, while you and ned, bob, must stand ready to rush in right after us with your guns ready. but don't shoot unless your life is in danger, and then fire not to kill, but to wound." there was a minute of hesitation, for they all realized that it was taking a desperate chance to tackle such a rough gang in the midst of woods, far from civilization. but the sound of the poor boy's cries nerved them on as, once more, the pitiful appeal for mercy rang out. jerry sprang forward and gave several vigorous blows on the door with the butt of his gun. all at once silence took the place of the confusion inside the hut. "who's there? what do you want?" asked a gruff voice. "open the door! we want that boy!" cried jerry. confused murmurs from within told that the gang had been taken by surprise. "i don't know who you are, but whoever you are you had better move on, if you don't want a bullet through you," called the man who had first answered the knock. "this is none of your affair." "open the door or we'll burst it in!" cried jerry, knowing the best way to be successful in the fight was to act quickly and take the men by surprise. there was a laugh from within the hut. it was answered by a rending, crashing splintering sound as jerry and the professor, using the stocks of their guns, began a vigorous attack on the portal. the door was strong enough, but the hinges were not, and, in less than half a minute the barrier had given way and, with a bound the travelers found themselves tumbling into the hut. instantly confusion reigned. the men shouted hoarsely, and several tried to reach their guns, which were stacked in one corner. "hands up!" commanded jerry sharply, leveling his gun at the man who seemed to be the leader. "why, they're nothing but boys! knock 'em out of the way!" cried one of the gang. at the same time another began creeping up behind jerry, his intention being to grab the lad from the back and disarm him. but bob saw the movement, and, leveling his rifle at the fellow, told him to halt. "i guess you've got the drop on us," growled the man whom jerry was covering with the gun. "what's the game anyhow? are you stage robbers?" "we want you to stop torturing that boy," cried jerry. "why, that's my kid, and i was only givin' him a taste of the rod because he wouldn't mind me; 'spare the rod and spoil the child,' is a good saying, you know." "not from you!" snapped the professor. "is this man your father?" the scientist asked the bound boy. "speak up now! ain't i your daddy?" put in the leader, scowling at the boy. "tell the truth! don't let him scare you!" said the professor reassuredly. "we are in charge here now. is he your father?" "no--no--sir," stammered the poor little lad, and then he burst into tears. "i thought so!" commented the scientist. "now you scoundrels clear out of here before we cause your arrest!" "you're talkin' mighty high," sneered the leader, "but look out! this matter is none of your affair, and that boy belongs to us!" "take me away! oh, please take me away! they'll kill me!" sobbed the lad. there was such a fiery look in the professor's eye as he leveled his gun at the gang of men that they started back, evidently fearing to be fired upon. "come on!" called one. "we'll get some of the mexicans and then we'll see who's runnin' things around here!" with that the gang sneaked out of the door, leaving the boys and the professor master of the situation. their first act was to unbind the lad, who was almost fainting from pain and fear. "are there any more of them?" asked jerry. "yes," said the boy faintly. "there are a lot of half-breed mexicans in the gang. they are in a hut about a mile farther up the road, where they keep a lot of horses on a ranch." "then perhaps we'd better get out of here while we have a chance," said the professor. "we can't fight a score or more. let's take the boy and hurry away." "come on then," said jerry. "we'll get back to the auto. i only hope these men don't discover it and damage the car." but when an attempt to start was made it was found that the boy, who said, in response to an inquiry from ned, that his name was tommy bell, was unable to walk. the ropes bound about his legs had caused the blood to stagnate in the veins. "here!" exclaimed jerry. "bob, you and ned go ahead with the lantern, and the professor and i will carry tommy. step lively now!" moving in that order the procession started, and in a few minutes the travelers were back at the machine, which did not seem to have been disturbed. there was no sight or sound of the gang. tommy was made as comfortable as possible, and then there was a brief consultation. "which way had we better go?" asked jerry. "i think it would be best to turn around," said bob. "we'll run up against the gang if we go ahead." "the best road is straight ahead through this woods," spoke tommy. "if you take the other your machine will get stuck." "then we'll take this one, and trust to luck not to have any trouble with the gang," decided jerry, as he cranked up the car. just as they started the moon came out from the clouds, for the rain had ceased, and, though not many of the silver beams shone through the thick foliage, it was much lighter than it had been. jerry threw in the gear and the next instant the car glided forward and shot along the tunnel of trees, leaving the hut where tommy bell had been a prisoner. "is the mexican camp near this main road?" asked the professor of tommy. "about three hundred feet in," answered the boy, who was feeling much better. "how many men are at it?" "about one hundred, i guess, from what i heard them say." "then i guess we'd better go past it on the fly," muttered jerry, as he speeded up the machine until it was skimming along at a fast rate. in a little while there was a gleam of light through the trees ahead. "there's the camp!" exclaimed tommy. a minute later the travelers were made well aware of it, for, as they whizzed past in the auto, they heard shouts of anger, mingling with the sounds of rushing feet, while an occasional pistol shot rang out, the flash of fire cutting the darkness. "they saw us," spoke bob. "lucky it was pretty dark, or they might have damaged the auto." "to say nothing of ourselves," added ned. chapter viii pursued by enemies as the auto sped along, professor snodgrass asked tommy bell how he had come to the hut in the forest. "those men took me there," replied the boy. "and what did they try to make you do?" asked jerry. "they wanted me to tell them where my father was," went on tommy. "i could not because i did not know, and they burned me, because they did not believe i was telling the truth." "what did they want of your father?" inquired mr. snodgrass. "they want him to sign some papers connected with some property," went on tommy. "i don't know much about it, except that father used to work with those men developing a mine. it didn't pay, and they left it, after selling it to some other men. i lived with my father, and my mother was alive then." the boy stopped, and, at the mention of his mother's name began to cry softly. "poor little lad," muttered the professor, putting his arm, with a sort of caressing motion about tommy. "don't cry, lad," the scientist went on, in what seemed a sort of husky voice, for he was very fond of children; "don't worry, we'll look out for you; won't we, boys?" "you bet!" exclaimed jerry, ned and bob in one voice. the auto was slowed down now, as there seemed to be no danger of pursuit. "after mother died," tommy resumed, "and the mine did not pay, father started prospecting with nat richards and the others in that crowd. but they were bad men, and soon got the better of my dad, taking away what little money he had left. "this ruined my father, and he grew discouraged, for he was old, and in poor health. he wandered away and i haven't seen him for nearly a year. i traveled about, doing what little work i could get to do, until i struck texas. one day, about a week ago, i passed a ranch, the same one we just came by. i asked for work, and got it. then i found the same men owned it that had ruined my father. "as soon as nat richards saw me he demanded to know where dad was. i couldn't tell, and then he promised me one hundred dollars if i would tell. he said they needed my father's signature to a paper. "i don't know as i would have told them where dad was if i did know. when i kept on refusing to give them the information, nat richards grew ugly. he had me taken off to the hut where you found me, and said he'd starve me to death if i didn't tell. "i almost did die from hunger," tommy went on with a catch in his voice. "then they tried torture. they burned me on the legs with a hot poker. that's what they were doing when you came in," and, overcome again by the thought of all he had suffered tommy cried bitterly. the boys and the professor did all they could to comfort the friendless lad, and, soon tommy's grief wore off. "we'll take you along with us," said jerry heartily, "and we'll try to help you find your father. where did you see him last?" "he was in arizona," answered tommy. "that's just where we're headed for," exclaimed bob. "we'll take you there all right." jerry leaned forward to throw in the higher speed gear when there was a sudden ripping, breaking sound, and the auto began to slow up. "what's the matter?" asked ned. "stripped the gear, i'm afraid," replied the steersman. "this is a nice pickle to be in." "won't it run on the low or intermediate gear?" asked bob. jerry tried them, and found they were all right. "i guess we'd better stop here for the night," he said. "we may need the high gear any minute, and perhaps i can fix it in the morning. i have a spare wheel." "then let's camp and have supper," said bob eagerly. "i haven't eaten in a week by the way i feel." "same here! i agree with you for once, chunky," spoke jerry. "it has been a long time since dinner, but with the excitement of the storm, the bear, and rescuing tommy i didn't notice it before." in a little while the camping outfit was taken from the automobile, and a fire started in the sheet-iron stove, with the charcoal that was carried to be used in emergencies, such as being unable to find dry wood after a rain. ned ground the coffee, while bob went in search of water, using the lantern to aid him in the somewhat dim forest, though the moon helped some. he found a spring close at hand, and soon a fragrant beverage was steaming under the trees. then some bacon was placed in the frying pan, and the hard tack was taken from the tin and other things prepared. "fall to!" commanded ned, who was acting as cook, and fall to they all did, with a will. "do you often camp out and eat in the woods like this?" asked tommy. "i think it's jolly fun," and the lad, who was about twelve years old, laughed for the first time since his rescue. he, too, was eating with an appetite that showed he needed the food. jerry briefly related some of their travel adventures, at which tommy opened his eyes to their widest extent. "cracky! but you have had stunning times!" he exclaimed. the meal having been finished, they began to think of getting some sleep. blankets were brought out, and rolling themselves up in them the boys and the professor were soon in the land of nod. it was nearly dawn when jerry was suddenly awakened by the far off baying of a dog. at first he could not imagine what the sound was, and sat up to listen more intently. then a long, mournful howl was borne to him on the wind. "that's strange," he muttered. "there are very few dogs about here. i wonder what it is." at the same time tommy bell roused up, and he, too, heard the sound. "it's the gang after us!" he exclaimed. "they have a lot of hounds on the ranch! hurry up! let's get out of this!" "hark!" exclaimed jerry, raising his hand. then the boys heard, faint and far off, the sound of galloping horses. "they're coming!" cried jerry. his cry awakened the others, who sat up bewildered and heavy from sound sleep. "lively's the word!" called jerry. "they're after us!" no further explanation was needed, for all knew what jerry meant. there was a hasty piling of blankets into the auto; the stove was packed up, and, while the travelers jumped into the car, jerry went in front to crank it up. the cheerful chug-chug told that the machinery was in good working order, and then, the boy, leaping into the steersman's seat, threw in the low gear for the start. as he did so ned glanced back and saw, coming around the bend of the forest road a score of horsemen and a pack of dogs. "speed her up, jerry!" called bob. "i will!" was the exclamation, as jerry leaned forward to throw in the high gear. a mournful screeching of the engine was the only response. "i forgot! the high gear is broken!" the steersman cried. "we can only use the intermediate, and that is not very fast!" "it's the best we can do, though!" said bob. "we may get away from them!" on the intermediate cogs the auto made good speed, and, for a while, distanced the gang, the members of which, with shouts of rage, put their horses to their best effort. chapter ix into the cave the sun began to peep up from beneath the eastern hills, throwing a rosy light over the earth. the woods began to thin out, and the sides of the "tunnel," which had been dense, became more open, so that glimpses of the country could be seen now and then. the chase was now on in earnest. for some time, however, the auto kept well in advance of the horsemen, for jerry used all the power possible on the differential gear. if the high speed one had been in working order there would have been no question of the outcome, but, for once, luck was against the boys. nearer and nearer came the gang on horseback. they got so close that their shouts to halt could be plainly heard. but jerry was not going to give up. he gritted his teeth and gripped the wheel with a firmer grasp. "we seem to be slacking up," observed ned. "that's what we are," spoke jerry. "the auto is going back on us." the car did seem to be dragging, and there was no excuse for it in the condition of the road, which was a fine level one. "the car needs repairing," said jerry, "and the way i have to run it isn't the best thing in the world for it." "do you think they'll catch up to us?" asked bob. "i'm afraid so," muttered jerry. "we are going the limit now." the thunder of the horses sounded nearer and the shouts of the pursuing gang came more plainly on the morning breeze. the auto coughed and wheezed, seeming like a man who has run far and is about to collapse. the explosions became less frequent, and finally one of the cylinders ceased to work altogether, leaving only three in commission. "now we're in for it!" muttered jerry, as, by a hasty glance back he saw the men spurring their horses on. "you'd better give up!" one of the gang shouted. "not yet, you scoundrels!" cried jerry, as he advanced the sparkling lever to the final notch. this seemed to be the last straw to the auto engine, for with a dismal snort it stopped short. "this settles it," muttered ned grimly. "we are done for." fortunately, however, they were on a slight slope now, and the car, with the impetus it had gathered, began to glide down the hill under its own momentum. but the horsemen were not one thousand feet in the rear and were drawing nearer. there seemed to be no help at hand and there was every indication that the boys would fall into the hands of their desperate enemies. "how much farther can we go?" asked tommy suddenly. "to the foot of the hill," replied jerry. "why do you ask?" "that's far enough!" exclaimed tommy. "i guess we can escape them." "how?" "steer straight for that dead pine tree," replied the young lad, "and when you get almost to it, make a wide turn to the right." "what good will that do?" "there's a big cave right at the foot of the hill," replied tommy. "i know for i passed it as i was tramping toward the ranch. it is large enough to take in the auto, and maybe we can hold it against the gang." "hurrah!" shouted jerry, as he shifted the wheel to conform with tommy's directions. "we'll beat 'em yet!" straight toward the dead pine jerry aimed, and, as he came to the bottom of the slope, he saw an opening in the bush-lined side of the hill, that told him the cave was at hand. into it, by a skillful turn, he steered the auto, and the machine, running in about one hundred feet from the opening came to a stop, just as the horsemen came dashing up, much surprised by the sudden disappearance of those they were pursuing. "we're safe!" whispered ned. "not yet," said jerry. "we must arm ourselves," and he began to get out the rifles from the bottom of the car, and hand them around to his companions. outside the cavern, which was a natural one in the rocky side of the hill, there came confused shouts. "where did they go?" they heard a voice ask. "must have gone over some ledge and been killed," was the reply. "then that settles it," said the first one. "that's just our bad luck!" then came a curious cry, and, by it, the boys knew their hiding place was discovered. "here are the tracks of the wheels!" the travelers heard some one shout. "they turned off somewhere about here." "then they're in that cave," was the rejoinder. "dismount!" came a sharp order. the boys could hear the men getting off their horses, and the animals being led away. "get your carbines ready!" was the next command. "it's time for us to act!" whispered jerry. "we must each one take a gun, and stand at the mouth of the cave. we'll warn them not to enter. if they persist we will have to fire, but we must try not to hurt any one mortally. aim at their legs!" in the half darkness of the cavern the boys and the professor each took a rifle and crept to the mouth of the opening. no sooner had they reached it than they heard the tramp of feet, and shadows told them the bad men were advancing. "halt!" cried jerry, who had naturally assumed command. "who are you?" asked the leader of the gang. "never mind who we are," replied jerry. "we are in possession of this cave, and we warn you not to come in!" "big words for a kid!" sneered the leader. "you'll find we can back them up," spoke jerry. then, in lower tones, he bade his comrades stand in readiness. there was a consultation in whispers among the members of the gang, and then, seeming to feel that they had nothing to fear, they made a rush. "fire!" cried jerry. remembering his instructions, the boys and the professor aimed low. to the reports of the rifles there succeeded howls of pain. several of the gang shot back, but, as it was dark in the cave they could not see to aim, and they did no damage. "give them another volley!" yelled jerry. again the rifles spoke, and this time, to the chorus of howls there was added a command from the leader to retreat, and the men rushed from the cave, which was filled with smoke. "are--are any of them killed?" asked tommy. "i don't believe so," replied jerry. "we fired too low to do much damage. i only wanted to let them know we were ready for them." waiting several minutes to see if there would be any further attack, jerry cautiously advanced to the mouth of the cavern. in the semi-light he saw several blood stains, but the absence of any bodies told him the battle had not resulted fatally, for which he was thankful. though the men were desperate characters, who, perhaps, would not stop at murder, the boy did not want the responsibility of killing any of them. "they seem to have retreated," jerry reported when he joined the others. "but i don't suppose they have gone for good. this probably will only make them more anxious to get tommy away from us, for it is him they are after." "do you think they want me?" asked the younger lad. "i am pretty sure, after what you have told us about the mine, that they would give a good deal to get you," replied jerry. "perhaps your signature may be as good as that of your father's in case--in case--" and jerry stopped suddenly. "you mean in case dad is dead?" asked tommy quietly. "yes," answered jerry. "i don't believe my father is dead," spoke the boy bravely. "somehow i feel that he is alive, and that i will find him. but if the gang is after me, it is not right for you all to be in danger on my account. give me up to them, i'm not afraid--that is, i'll try not to be. let me go out and surrender, and perhaps they'll go away." "i'd like to see myself!" exclaimed jerry. "you don't stir out of this cave, tommy bell, until we go! i'm not afraid of that gang. we've been in tighter places than this and gotten out; haven't we, fellows?" "you bet!" echoed bob and ned. "then give me a gun and let me help fight," begged tommy. "can you shoot?" asked jerry. "my father taught me," was all tommy said, and jerry gave him a rifle, at which tommy's eyes sparkled. a cautious glance from the mouth of the cave showed that the gang had withdrawn some distance away. but that they had no notion of giving up the fight was evidenced by the fact that they were constructing a camp so as to command the entrance to the cavern. "i guess they're going to try and starve us out," remarked the professor. "lucky we have plenty of provisions and ammunition on hand for a siege." "well, i guess we're just as well off here as anywhere," observed jerry. "we'd have to lay up a few days at any rate, to fix the machine, and it might as well be in a good roomy cave, where the rain can't wet us." the boys waited an hour before laying aside their arms. then, as the gang showed no signs of renewing the attack, they proceeded to make themselves more comfortable. "might as well get ready to camp out," said ned. "i'll set up the stove, and we'll have breakfast, though it is a little late." so while he set up the sheet iron apparatus, jerry instructed bob to stand guard at the mouth of the cavern, and to give instant notice of any activity on the part of the enemy. "but what will we do about eating breakfast?" asked bob in a sorrowful voice. "don't worry about that, 'chunky,'" said jerry. "i'll relieve you, or some one will, in time to get a meal. in the meantime keep a good watch." then jerry went back to help ned, and, at the same time, make ready to repair the machine. chapter x attacked by a cougar "i say, jerry," called ned, "we're in a sort of a pickle." "how's that?" "why, i started to make coffee and i got along all right until i came to the water." "well?" "no, it's not at all well. in fact we ought to have a well here." "what do you mean?" "i mean there's no water in the cave!" "great scott! is that so?" exclaimed jerry. "i never thought of such a thing. are you sure there's not a spring away in the rear?" "the professor and i made a good search," replied the temporary cook. "the cave comes to an end about three hundred feet back, and there's not a sign of water." for a few seconds jerry was silent. then he gave an exclamation. "i have it!" he cried. "we can use the emergency water supply on the auto. it is not very fresh, but it will do for coffee." "the very thing!" ejaculated ned. it was fortunate that the auto carried an extra tank of water, as well as one of gasolene. they had often found it useful in getting a supply of the fluid for the radiator in places far from a supply, and the reserve tank had been built with that purpose in view. it held about ten gallons. drawing on this ned had a supply for his coffee which was soon boiling merrily on the stove, while some canned chicken and bacon were put on to fry. "i say, is anybody going to relieve me?" called bob from his post on guard. he smelled the breakfast in preparation, and it added to his hunger. "i'll go," volunteered the professor. "i'm in no hurry to eat, and perhaps i may pick up a specimen or two. this cave ought to be a good place for them." accordingly he took bob's place, and soon the four boys were eating ravenously, and with as good appetites as if a band of bad men was not outside, ready to attack them at the first opportunity. "now to fix the machine," said jerry as he rose from the ground that served as a table. "light all the lamps, ned, and then you and bob come and help me. tommy and the professor can take turns standing guard." it was no easy matter to take the automobile engine apart, and substitute a new gear for the broken one. it was also found necessary to insert new spark plugs, which had become covered with a coating of carbon; and the cylinders also needed cleaning, while the pistons had to be adjusted. the afternoon was spent in working at the auto, and by night such good progress had been made that jerry said by the next evening it would be in shape to start. "that is if the gang let's us," spoke ned. "we'll make a dash for it," replied jerry. "we needn't fear them with the car in good order, for we can leave them behind in less than half an hour. we'll try to escape to-morrow about midnight." "in the meanwhile let's eat," suggested bob, and his cry brought forth the usual chaffing about "chunky's" appetite. ned started to get supper. he went to the tank of the auto to draw some water for the tea, when he gave a cry of surprise. "what's the trouble?" called jerry. "the water's gone!" exclaimed ned. "that's a leak in the tank!" they all rushed to the car. there, on the ground under the reserve tank was a muddy spot, showing where the precious fluid had dripped away. a quick examination showed there was a small hole in the reservoir. "now we are up against it," murmured bob. "not quite yet," said jerry. "how can we get water without being shot?" asked ned. "there is quite a bit left in the pipe coils of the radiator," answered jerry. "it will be pretty poor stuff to drink i guess, but it's better than nothing." there was considerable of the fluid in the big brass radiator on the front of the car, and, though it was stale, and had been heated many times, as it circulated about the cylinders, still, it was better than none. made into tea, which was served as a change from coffee, it did not taste so very bad. but the situation was grave. with only water enough on hand to last about half a day, the plight of the travelers was a critical one. "we'll have to have water for the car, as well as ourselves," spoke ned. "we can't run the machine without water." "that's so," admitted jerry dubiously. "something will have to be done." after the evening meal jerry resumed his labors on the car, working at double speed, in which he was assisted by ned and bob. the professor and tommy took turns watching at the cavern's mouth. but there seemed to be no need of this, as the men showed no inclination to make a second attack. they appeared to know that the boys were caught in a trap; a trap that contained no water. so they evidently felt sure of success sooner or later, and that without the danger of being wounded. jerry and his comrades worked to such advantage that shortly after midnight the auto was in shape to be used, and with the new high gear wheel in place. the car was given a good oiling, and was repacked in readiness for a quick start. "now if we only had water," sighed jerry, "we could slip out, and, i believe get away." but he knew it was useless to proceed without at least a full radiator. the extra tank, which had been repaired, could be filled later. the radiator coils were empty however. what had not been used for cooking had been made up into weak tea, as it was not considered healthful to drink the water as it came from the pipes. "we've got to do something," said jerry decidedly. "if we stay here much longer we'll die of thirst. if we could only make a dash and get some water we could manage. two pails full would do." "let me go after them," exclaimed tommy. "i'm not afraid. i can run fast. maybe i can get out there by the brook, get the water and come back before any of them see me." "no you couldn't," spoke jerry, pointing to where one of the men, as sentry, could be seen, from the mouth of the cave, walking up and down near the camp fire. "if any one goes i will, and i think i'd better start." bob and ned both offered to make the dangerous attempt, and the professor insisted that he be allowed to try, as he knew how to move over ground very silently. but jerry was firm in his determination. "i'm going to make the try about two o'clock," he said. "they'll be sounder asleep then." as he was very tired he stretched out in some blankets until it would be time to make the try. he fell asleep soon, and the others moved away, talking in whispers lest they disturb him. almost exactly at the appointed hour jerry awakened. he sat up, and, slipping a pair of indian moccasins over his shoes, to enable him to move as silently as possible, he cautiously approached the mouth of the cavern, carrying two water pails with him. the moon had gone down and it was quite dark, which was favorable to jerry's plans. as he got to the entrance of the cavern the boy looked toward the gang's camp. there seemed to be no sign of life, and jerry thought perhaps the sentry had fallen asleep. as silent as a cat the lad made his way toward the stream, which he could hear gurgling and splashing over the stones. his throat was dry, for the last of the cold tea had been drunk, and his exertions had made him very thirsty. as he heard the sound of the brook he felt a fierce desire for water, so strong was it that he felt he would brave anything to get it. foot by foot he advanced, crouching down as low as he could. he was beginning to feel that he would be successful, and not be detected. he could see the sparkle of the water about three hundred feet away, and his parched mouth and throat seemed to be as dry as leather. he could hardly swallow. on and on he went. now he was about two hundred feet away and he was getting ready to make a dash for the brook. suddenly he heard a clicking sound, and knew it was a rifle being cocked. next there rang out on the night air the command: "halt or i'll fire!" poor jerry was detected! he came to a stop, sick at heart at the failure of his plan. for a moment there was no other sound. the boy could not see who had discovered him, though he instinctively felt the eyes of the man on him. suddenly there was a shaking in the tree somewhat to jerry's left, and about one hundred feet away. then came a rustle of the leaves on the ground and the boy made out the figure of a man, dimly, standing with rifle aimed straight at him. "throw up your hands!" was the next order, and, letting the pails fall to the ground, jerry obeyed. then, all at once, there burst out on the air a most terrifying sound. it was a blood-curdling yell, a screech as if from some one in mortal agony. jerry felt the cold chills go down his back. the next instant there was a crashing sound, and, from the tree under which the man stood who had aimed at the boy a dark body shot downward. the screech of the cougar, for such it was, mingled with the terrific yells of the sentry. jerry dimly saw a confused tangle of man and beast. he heard the man shout for help. he heard his rifle go off, and then came sounds that told that the camp had been aroused. the attack of the cougar had come just in time. jerry, taking advantage of the diversion, grabbed up his pails, and running to the brook filled them with water. then, as fast as he could go, he ran toward the cave. chapter xi a runaway auto behind the boys sounded the yells and shouts of the men in camp, mingled with rifle shots and the screeching of several of the cougars, for, it developed, a band of three, grown desperate by hunger, had made an attack. "are you hurt, jerry?" cried bob and ned, as, with his pails of water, the boy staggered into the cave. "not a bit, but i had a close shave," was the answer. "but we must be quick! here! help fill the radiator with the water." "can't we drink any?" asked bob who, like the others, was very thirsty. "not a drop," said jerry firmly. "we need every bit for the automobile. without it we can't get away from here, and now is the only chance we may have to escape. we can drink later." while jerry and ned filled the radiator the other boys and the professor made ready for the escape. everything was packed up and placed in the car, which, as soon as the coil was filled, would be ready to start and dash from the cave. "i'm afraid this is not going to be water enough," spoke jerry as the second of the pails was emptied into the radiator. "can't i make a dash for some more? there seems to be excitement enough in the camp to keep them from watching me," said ned. "i'm going to try." there was considerable activity among the ranch men. the cougars, though wounded, seemed to have temporarily lost all fear and made attack after attack on the men, who had to fire several volleys from their rifles. "go ahead," said jerry. "i'll start the engine slowly." grabbing up the pails ned walked from the cave. "i'm going to help, also," said tommy. "no, you stay here," commanded jerry. "bob can go if he wants to." bob joined ned. they ran to the stream and had filled the pails when, just as they started on the way back, the wounded cougars, driven from the camp, came dashing after the boys. "now we're in for it!" exclaimed ned. "run, bob!" and run they did, as they had never run before, and left the beasts behind. "have you the water?" asked jerry eagerly as the boys came in. "we have!" exclaimed bob. "and hard enough work we had getting it." "good!" jerry hurriedly poured most of it into the radiator, though every one in the cave looked at the fluid with longing eyes. "i must get a drink soon, or i shall go half crazy!" said the professor suddenly. "i never was so thirsty in my life." "i'm saving just a little bit for each of us," spoke jerry. "but it is a very small quantity, and will only serve to wet our mouths. if all goes well we shall soon have plenty." he distributed about a pint of the water among his companions, and though each one got only a little it brought welcome relief. "now we're ready to skip out!" announced jerry as he screwed the cap on the radiator tank, and increased the speed of the engine. "but first we had better take a look outside to see if any of that gang are in sight." the professor, who had good eyes, went to the mouth of the cave, and, coming back, reported that he could see a dark mass moving on the further bank of the stream. "they have evidently gotten over their scare about the cougars," mr. snodgrass said, "and are waiting to bag us. what are we going to do?" "there's only one thing to do," replied jerry. "and that is what?" "we must make a dash for it. the road is fairly good, and i guess we can speed up enough to get out of the range of their bullets in a short time. they can't be very good shots or they would have killed the three cougars, with all the bullets they fired." so it was decided. they all took their places in the car, and jerry, who, as if by mutual consent, assumed the place of steersman, leaned forward to throw in the gear clutches. "here we go!" he cried. "look out everybody!" slowly at first, but gathering speed, the auto moved out of the cave. the lamps lighted up the path, and, though the boys realized that the lanterns disclosed their position to their enemies, they had to use them for their own safety. it was too dark to do without them. a few seconds later and the car emerged from the cavern. as it shot out there came a chorus of angry cries from the camp of the ranchmen, and several shots were fired, though none of them came close enough to be uncomfortable. "here we go!" cried jerry again, as he increased the speed, and the auto fairly leaped forward. it swayed from side to side, and struck several ruts, so that the occupants were tossed about. but the main thing was that they went ahead, and away from their enemies. jerry, peering as best he could into the darkness ahead, made a course for the stream, intending to go close to it, and then run along the bank, or near it, as he had noted in the afternoon that there was a fairly good road there. gradually the shouts of the men, and the firing of their guns died away, and the travelers began to breathe more freely. they had made their escape, and, for the present, were safe. "oh do let's stop and get a drink!" pleaded bob. "not yet!" exclaimed jerry. "five minutes more will not kill you, and it may save all our lives," for he did not want to slack up while there was any danger of the ranchmen coming after them. the five minutes seemed like an hour to bob, and the others, too, were impatient. but at last jerry shut off the power and the machine came to a halt not far from the creek. out scrambled the boys and the professor, and then, in spite of the danger of drinking snakes and lizards in the darkness, they all made for the stream, where they quenched their thirst from small collapsable cups which each one had been holding in readiness for just that chance. "that's better than an ice cream soda!" exclaimed ned. "you bet!" agreed bob heartily. "i never tasted such fine water." "very good!" said the professor. "i guess we can stop long enough to lay in a supply now," remarked jerry. "we can start off again in five minutes, and in that time they can not catch up to us." so the radiator was filled to the top, and the auxiliary tank likewise, while the boys indulged freely in the liquid, thinking, perhaps, they might have some of the characteristics of the camel, and could drink enough at one time to last a week or more. then they started forward again, and the auto soon carried them beyond the possibility of capture that night. they camped out in the open, and, in spite of their rather exciting adventures they slept soundly, awaking as the sun rose. ned was given a chance to run the machine, and he took the front seat with tommy, who was delighted to be there for the first time. they had not been going long before they found the land was rising. "we're coming into the mountains now," said jerry. up a long hill, with a gradual assent, puffed the auto. on either side were broad fields where tall pampas grass was growing, amid which thousands of grasshoppers, or some similar insect, were singing. "better be sure your brake is in good working order," suggested jerry, as they came to the steep descent on the other side. "we don't want any more accidents." ned tried the ordinary brake. there was a clicking sound, followed by a snapping one. "brake's busted!" exclaimed jerry. "try the emergency!" ned did so. that, too, gave out only a faint screech, and did not grip the axle as it should. "look out now!" yelled jerry. "we're in for it!" an instant later the auto began to move forward at a rapid pace. all ned's efforts to check it were in vain. "we're running away!" cried frightened tommy. "i wish i'd stayed in back!" "keep to the middle of the road!" jerry cried above the noise of the auto rushing down the steep hill. at the bottom the road took a sharp turn, and the hearts of all beat rapidly with fear as they beheld it. chapter xii tommy finds a friend so rapidly did the machine shoot down the descent that it almost seemed the curved road was rushing to meet the travelers. again and again ned tried the brakes, but without avail. he had shut off the power at the first indication that something was wrong. "we can never make that turn!" exclaimed bob. "i'm afraid not," agreed jerry. they were all clinging to the sides of the car, while ned gripped the steering wheel with a desperate hold. "look out for the turn!" cried the professor as they came to the sharp curve. but, to the surprise of all, ned, instead of shifting the wheel in at least an attempt to swing around the half circle kept straight on the course. the boy had resolved on another plan. directly in front of him, and to the left of the road was a big field of tall waving pampas grass, the plumes nodding eight feet above the ground. it was shut off from the thoroughfare by a frail wooden fence. "i'm going to steer into the grass!" cried ned. "it's our only chance!" the next instant there was a splintering sound as the auto crashed through the fence, which offered no more resistance, because of the great speed, than a paper hoop does to a circus performer. then it seemed to the travelers as though they had been plunged into a tossing, waving sea of grass. the tall pampas plumes and the stems wrapped themselves about the boys and the professor, almost choking them by the pollen that was shaken off. the feathery-like tops tickled them in the eyes, nose and mouth as, carried by the runaway auto, they were dashed through them. but the grass had just the effect ned had intended and hoped for. it clogged the wheels of the machine, and though soft, offered so much resistance that the machine soon began to slow down, as does a locomotive when it runs into a snow drift. after plowing through the field for about two hundred feet the car came to a final stop, with a little jolt. "santa maria! caramba!" yelled a voice and then followed such a string of spanish that the boys thought they had run down a whole camp of mexican herders. "did we hit any one?" asked jerry, peering forward as well as he could through the tall grass. "caramba! hit any one! the americano pirates have killed don elvardo!" exclaimed the unseen one. "you have broken--!" and then followed such a confusion of words that the boys could not understand. "have we broken your leg?" asked jerry, speaking in spanish this time. "santa maria! no! you have broken the cigarette i just rolled!" and with that the grass parted in front of the auto, and a little mexican, wearing a suit profusely trimmed with silver braid, showed himself. the boys felt like laughing as they beheld the woe-begone face of don elvardo. in his hand he held the remains of a cigarette. "behold!" he went on tragically. "i am peacefully walking in my field, looking over my crop of pampas, when i feel a desire to smoke. i sit me down and roll a cigarette. i am about to light it, when--santa maria! there is a rushing sound of ten thousand imps of darkness. my grass is mowed down as if by a sickle in the hands of a giant. i turn in fear! i see something coming! i can not tell what it is, for the tall grass hides it! i turn to flee! the infernal thing keeps after me! presto! caramba! it hits me so--" don elvardo illustrated by slapping himself vigorously on the thigh. "then i fall! i am crushed! i am killed! i die in pain and fear! i arise! behold, senor americanos, my cigarette is broken!" "we're very sorry, of course," said jerry politely. "but you see our auto ran away on the hill, and as the brakes would not work, the only thing to save our lives was to steer into this field. we did not know you were here, or we would have sent around to your house to ask permission to enter," added the lad sarcastically. "but i am here!" snapped the mexican. "so we see," admitted jerry. "we are willing to pay for any damage we have done." the mexican's eyes sparkled, and he rubbed his hands as if in anticipation. "that alters the case," said don elvardo. "the americano senors are welcome ten thousand times to my field. i bid you welcome. i salute you. pay. oh, yes! it is but right that you should pay!" again he rubbed his hands together. "about what would you say it was worth?" asked ned. "i am no miser," replied the mexican. "i do not wish to insult my friends the americanos. i will only charge them for the damage to the grass. the broken fence is of no moment. pay me one hundred dollars and i will say no more about the affair." "he's a robber!" said jerry in a low voice. "we haven't done five dollars' damage to his crop and the fence combined." "i guess he will whistle for his one hundred dollars," said ned. don elvardo heard him. "so!" he exclaimed. "you will not pay me one little hundred dollars for the damage. caramba! then it is i who shall at once lodge a complaint with the authorities. we will see if there is a law in the land, or if crazy americanos can spoil a poor man's crop and pay nothing. we shall see!" "offer him ten dollars," suggested bob. the boys consulted together a minute or two. they wanted to be fair, but they did not care to be robbed. the professor had taken no part in the discussion. he seemed to be intently examining the tall grass on either side of the machine. suddenly the scientist stepped from the side of the car, and rapidly made his way to the front, where don elvardo stood. mr. snodgrass gazed intently at the mexican. then he gave a leap toward the don, exclaiming as he did so: "there it is! right on your hat! don't move an inch or it will jump away! i have it now! this is indeed a lucky day! just a second and i'll have it!" with that the professor made a leap toward the mexican with outstretched hands. "santa maria! diavolo?" screamed don elvardo as he saw the scientist coming for him. "caramba! it is to murder me that you come!" then, calling for help at the top of his voice, the mexican turned and fled in terror, his course being marked through the tall grass by the wave-like motion he imparted to the plumes in his haste. "why--why what in the world ails him?" asked mr. snodgrass. "he probably thought you were going to choke him to death," said jerry with a laugh. "in fact your actions were not so very far from giving that idea." "why bless my soul!" ejaculated the professor. "all i wanted was to get a fine specimen of a blue grasshopper from his big hat, where the insect had alighted. it was worth about forty dollars." "i saw some just as good in a city once for twenty dollars," put in tommy, "and they had more silver braid on." "what! a grasshopper with silver braid on?" cried the scientist. "i thought you said his hat was worth forty dollars," went on tommy, somewhat embarrassed. "i was speaking of the blue grasshopper," explained mr. snodgrass. "my, i am sorry to have missed that one." "but you did a good service in scaring this mexican away, as you did the chap with the ox cart," spoke ned. "he might have made trouble for us." "and we had better get out of here while we have the chance," said jerry. "he may come back any minute." accordingly the auto was turned around, and run over the same course by which it had entered the field. otherwise it would have been almost impossible to have advanced, so thick was the grass. the road regained, the machine was sent along it at good speed, for fear don elvardo or some of his friends might appear. "we had better stop and fix the brakes," suggested ned, after an hour's run. "and get dinner at the same time," put in bob. "we'll kill two stones with the same automobile, as the poem says." "i guess you're a little twisted," remarked ned, "but your intentions are good." a halt was made under a big tree, near a little stream, and soon a good fire was built and dinner was being cooked. it was found that some nuts had become loose on the brakes, and this trouble jerry soon remedied. after the meal they sat about and talked a while. "we'll soon be in new mexico," remarked jerry, consulting a small map. "will we?" asked tommy. "i'm so glad." "why?" "because there's a man who was once a friend of my father at a place called las cruces. it's near the rio grande river. if we could go there i know mr. douglass would take care of me." "then we'll go there," said jerry. "it will be right on our route." they all agreed this would be a good plan. that night the travelers stopped in a small village where they had good beds and meals. they resumed the journey next day, and for several days thereafter met with no mishaps as they speeded toward las cruces. they had left the lowlands and were well up among the hills by this time. one day, just at dusk, they rolled into las cruces and, after a little inquiry found mr. douglass, who was very glad to see tommy. "i will be glad to take care of him for the present," he said. chapter xiii the colored man's ghost the travelers found the town where tommy's friend lived such a pleasant place that they spent several days there. it was a thriving place, and the auto was a source of endless wonder to most of the inhabitants, who had never seen one. had the boys wished they could have made considerable money taking parties out in the car for short trips, but they knew they had a long journey before them and they wished to save the machine all they could. it needed some repairs which were made by the local blacksmith, and then the travelers were ready to move forward again. "i don't know how to thank you for all you did for me," said tommy, as the boys were leaving. "you saved my life. maybe i will have a chance to do you a good turn some day. if i have, you can bet i'll do it." "we know you will, tommy," said jerry. "well, good-by. i hope we see you again." "same here!" exclaimed bob and ned. they did not know how soon they were to meet their friend again, nor in what a peculiar manner he was able to aid them in return for what they had done for him. for several days the auto skimmed along through a somewhat lonely country. the roads were not very good and a number of times progress was so slow that only a few miles were made between sunrise and sunset. now and then the travelers would come to a lonely cabin, where they could replenish their food supply or get a night's lodging. but, in the main, they had to depend on their own resources. occasionally they would reach a little settlement, where their arrival never failed to produce as much excitement as a fire and circus combined. every day brought them nearer their gold mine, concerning which they were very anxious, as they had heard nothing further from jim nestor. "the mine may have been taken away from him for all we know," chafed jerry as he fretted at the delay caused by bad roads. "we'll hope for the best," said ned. "no use crossing a bridge until you come to it." the travelers were well up among the lower mountains now, though compared with the heights they had still to scale the range was one of mere hills. one evening just at dusk, after a particularly hard day of travel, during which the auto had broken down several times, necessitating minor repairs, the motor boys came to a place where two roads divided. "i wonder which we had better take?" asked bob, who was at the wheel. "the right," said jerry. "the left," advised ned. "toss up a cent," suggested the professor. "make it heads right and tails left." they did so. the coin came down heads up, and bob turned the machine to the right. it had not proceeded far on this road when, about a mile ahead, the travelers saw a couple of log cabins. "well, there's shelter for to-night, at all events," jerry remarked, "and, i hope, supper as well. i'm getting a little tired of bacon and coffee." they found one of the cabins occupied by a negro, his wife, and seven children, the oldest a boy of sixteen and the youngest a little girl, just able to toddle. "good evening," greeted the professor, "can we get supper and lodging anywhere about here?" "i reckon i kin fix yo' up on th' eatin' question, boss," remarked the darkey as he stood in the cabin door as the auto drew up, "but i 'clare t' goodness i can't find no room t' stable that there rip-snortin' beast ye got." "we don't expect you to take the auto in," spoke jerry. "if you give us beds for ourselves, or even a room to sleep in we'll pay for it and glad to do it." "land sakes, i'd like t' 'blige yo', deed 'n i would boss," went on the negro, "but my cabin am jest crowded t' th' doah wif me an' my fambily. yo' am welcome t' suthin' t' eat, but land a' massy whar i'se goin' t' have yo' sleep hab got me cogitatin'." "what's the matter with that other cabin?" asked ned. "what other cabin?" asked the negro, not turning to look in the direction of the second shack, about a quarter of a mile down the road. "that one," went on ned, pointing to it. "there may be room in it." "oh i reckon there's room enough," replied the colored man, "only--well to tell you th' truff, boss, it ain't exackly healthy t' sleep in that cabin, er even t' talk about it. 'scuse me but i don't want even t' look at it." "why not?" the colored man seemed to hesitate. he fidgeted and seemed ready to go back into his house. "why not?" asked ned again. "kase it's--it's got ghosts an' it's hanted!" exclaimed the negro, "an' it ain't safe fer any one to go near it, let alone sleep in it." "nonsense," remarked the professor. "there are no such things as ghosts." "yo' wouldn't say so if yo' went to that there cabin after dark," persisted the colored man. "'tain't safe t' talk about it, so yo'll please 'scuse me." "but what sort of a ghost is it?" asked jerry. "it's big an' it's white, an' it rattles chains an' groans sumthin' turrible," said the negro. "did you ever see it?" asked ned. "did i ever see it, boss? couse i done see it. only t'other night it near skeered me to deff." "how long has it been there?" asked bob. "'bout a week i reckon," replied the negro. "ever since rastus johnson moved away from th' cabin." "i guess we'll take a chance with the ghost for the sake of spending a night under shelter," said jerry. "meanwhile we can get supper here." and a fine supper they had. mrs. jones, wife of the colored man, proved an excellent cook. she fried some chicken, made some corn bread, and that, with preserves and some good coffee, made up a meal which the travelers voted one of the finest they had eaten in many months. "can we get breakfast here, also?" asked jerry when supper was finished. "if yo' am alive," replied jones solemnly. "if we're alive? what do you mean?" "well i reckon ef yo' sleeps in that hanted cabin, there won't be any of yo' left t' want a meal in th' mo'nin'," explained jones. "it's takin' yo'uns' lives in yo' hands t' go nigh it suah yo' is boahn!" all they could say did not induce the man to change his mind. he was plainly afraid of the cabin and the "ghost." but the travelers were determined not to let a little thing like that interfere with a chance to sleep under shelter. accordingly they covered the auto with the tarpaulin provided for that purpose, and moved their blankets into the deserted cabin, which was fairly clean and in good condition. one of the big oil lamps gave sufficient light. the cabin contained only two rooms, one on the ground floor, and the other above it, reached by a movable ladder. "i think we had better sleep upstairs," said jerry. "the door doesn't fasten very securely, and besides i think it will be drier there." so they mounted the ladder, spread their blankets out on the floor, and were all soon fast asleep. none of them expected to be disturbed, for they laid the story of the ghost to an overwrought imagination of the colored man. so it was with a sudden feeling of terror that jerry was awakened in the middle of the night by hearing a deep groan, seeming to come from the room below. he sat up, rubbing his eyes to further awaken himself, and then he became aware that bob was also sitting up. he could see because of the moonlight streaming in through a window. "did you hear anything?" asked jerry. "i thought so," answered bob. "i thought i did," put in ned, who, it seems had been awakened at the same time the others were. once more there sounded an unmistakable groan. it came from the ground floor, and was so loud, penetrating and, in spite of the would-be bravery of the boys, so awful coming out of the darkness, that they shuddered. "what's that?" asked the professor, who also, this time, was roused from his slumbers. before either of the boys could answer the groan was repeated and this time it was followed by the unmistakable clanking of chains. "the colored man's ghost!" whispered bob. "nonsense!" exclaimed the professor, but, no sooner had he spoken than there came another weird noise, and the chains rattled louder than ever. "light the lantern," whispered jerry. "we must see what it is. perhaps it's only some one playing a joke." "let me take a look before you make a light," suggested the professor. "i can look down the ladder hole." softly he crawled over to the opening and peered down. as he did so the noises were repeated. the professor uttered an exclamation. "it bears the other descriptive marks of the creature the negro told about," he said, crawling back to where the boys were huddled together. "it is big and white and it seems to be trying to climb up the ladder." "wait until i get my revolver," whispered jerry. "we'll soon see if it's a ghost or not." "don't fire," cautioned the professor. "it may be some one trying to scare us, but we have no right to fire at any one." "i'll give 'em a warning, at any rate," said the lad. he went to the opening and called down: "tell us who you are or i'll shoot, do you hear?" a groan and the clanking of chains was the only answer. this was followed by a violent agitation and shaking of the ladder. "bang!" went jerry's revolver. he had fired into the air. succeeding the report there was a silence. this was broken by a further clanking of chains. then came a crash, and when the echo of this died away the sound of feet running away could be heard. "pretty solid footsteps for a ghost," commented ned. "look! look!" cried bob, pointing out of the window. there, running down the moon-lit road the boys saw a big white mule, to the neck of which was fastened a chain that rattled with every step. "there's the ghost," said the professor. "i thought i recognized the voice as that of a quadruped with which i was familiar. the animal has probably broken loose from the field and came here in search of food." "well it certainly scared me all right," admitted bob. the others did not commit themselves, but there was no doubt but that they had several heart-flutters. "i wonder what that crash was?" asked ned. the professor glanced down the hole leading to the first floor. "the ghost made it by kicking our ladder away," the scientist replied. "i wonder how we can get down." but the boys did not worry about this, being too sleepy. soon they were all snoring again, and did not awaken until the sun was streaming in the window. chapter xiv trouble with a bad man "this is a nice pickle!" exclaimed bob, who was the first to rise. "what's the matter, lost your collar button?" sleepily inquired jerry. "no, but the mule knocked the ladder down, and we'll have to jump or stay here." "it isn't far to the ground in this shanty," remarked jerry. "go ahead and drop down." "it may not be very far," said bob, "but i don't want to take the chance." "afraid you'll sprain your ankle?" "no, but i don't want to fall into the cistern." "cistern? what are you talking about?" "well," went on bob, "there's a cistern right under this ladder opening. the mule pulled the cover off last night, and whoever drops down is going to land goodness knows where." the others soon confirmed what bob had said. when the cabin was built a cistern had been sunk in the middle of the ground floor. this had been covered, and the ladder rested on it when the travelers went to bed, but the mule, probably in search for a drink, uncovered it. "can't get down without a ladder," observed ned. "what's the matter with jumping from one of the outside windows?" asked jerry. they thought the idea a good one until they saw that the only one there was opened onto a pile of sharp rocks, into which even a jump of fifteen feet might be dangerous. "what's to be done?" asked bob. "guess we'll have to wait until jones comes to see if we are dead," replied jerry. "then he can cover the cistern and raise the ladder." "i guess we'll have a long wait for jones," commented ned. "he's so afraid of this place that he'll never come within hearing distance of it." "let's yell out of the window," suggested bob. they did so, uniting their voices in a volume of sound. it seemed to have no effect though, for there was no movement about the colored man's cabin. "once more," urged the professor. this time they produced a result, for, down the road they could see jones come to the door of his shack and peer out. thereupon they waved their hands to him, and in a few minutes the colored man was standing as close as he seemed to dare to come to their shelter. "is yo' all daid?" he asked in awed accents. "not quite all of us," answered the professor, "but we will be unless you come in and hoist the ladder for us." "did th'--th' ghost knock it down?" asked jones. "it did," replied bob, solemnly. "i knowed it! i knowed it! maybe you'll believe me next time. golly! i ain't goin' t' stay here," and jones was about to run off down the road. "here! come back!" commanded the captives, and the colored man reluctantly did so. "i doan laik t' stay round yeah!" pleaded the negro. "'tain't no ways healthy. what yo' done want, anyhow?" "we want you to hoist the ladder for us," said the professor. "come now, don't be silly. the only ghost there was, and we saw it, was an old white mule with a chain on its neck." "co'se it were! dat's de form it took when i seed it!" cried jones. "but it can take on any shape, dat ghost can. next time it'll be a lion er a tiger er a elephant. monstrous terrible things, ha'nts is. so de ghost done knocked de ladder down! i knowed it would do suthin'." amid a show of genuine fear the colored man entered the cabin, and after replacing the cistern cover cautiously raised the ladder. then he ran out as if the ghost were after him. "i guess we'll never be able to convince jones that there isn't a ghost here," said jerry as they came down and started down the road toward the colored man's cabin, where they were to have breakfast. "here's something that may prove to him that the mule was the ghost," spoke ned, picking up a horse shoe, which was on the cabin floor. they showed it to the negro, but he only shook his head. "it looks like a hoss shoe, dat i admit," said jones, "but it's enchanted. it'll turn inter a snake er a tiger er suthin' terruble 'fore long. i don't want nothin' t' do with it," and he cast it into the bushes by the side of the road. the excitement of the night had taken none of the travelers' appetites away, and they made a good meal. then, once more they took the road, disappearing in a cloud of dust, while jones, his wife, and the seven children stood and stared in wonder. they traveled all that day with only an occasional glimpse of civilization in the shape of some house or cabin. no villages were reached, it being a centre of vast grazing lands, where only a lonely herder, or, perhaps two, remained to guard the cattle. that night they camped in the open, and found it rather uncomfortable, for it began to rain about midnight. "i wish we were back in the cabin, with the ghost-mule and everything else," muttered jerry, as he tried to find a dry spot to lie down on. but troubles can not last forever, and morning came finally, bringing a clear day and a bright sun which was very welcome. breakfast over they took the road once more. about noon they came to a small town that boasted of what was called the "imperial hotel." "i suppose we'd better try the imperial," suggested ned. "it don't look very scrumptious, but you can't always tell by the appearance of a toad how far he can jump." the auto drew up in front of the inn with a noise that brought a score of men from the barroom. "jumpin' gila monsters and rattlesnakes!" cried one of the men, evidently a miner from his dress. "i've read about them satan go-carts, but i never believed in 'em. sakes alive, but they do look funny without a hoss in front." he and the others gathered about the car, asking so many questions that it took all the boys and the professor as well to answer them. when curiosity had been partially satisfied the boys went into the hotel. while there was nothing to make a weary traveler glad he had found it, the place was not as bad as many where the motor boys had stopped. they had a good meal, and decided to rest a few hours before proceeding. it was along about three o'clock. the crowd of men in the barroom had become larger as new comers arrived. it was also noisier and loud voices, and occasional threats to shoot, made the travelers think it was about time to move on. they were about to go to their machine when they were approached on the porch where they were sitting, by the miner who had first remarked about the auto. he had evidently been drinking more than was good for him, and was in a quarrelsome mood. "if you don't want to play with me you needn't," he called, evidently to some one inside. "i can find some one to shuffle the cards with me. here, you kid"--to jerry, "you come an' we'll have a little game." "thank you, i don't play," said jerry quietly. "what's that?" came the sharp return. "i said i didn't play." "why hang my buttons! you got to play when i tell you to," cried the miner. "pete simmons ain't used to bein' told no. here, sit down to this table an' deal the cards," and he grabbed jerry by the arm, and attempted to force him into a chair. "let go my arm!" exclaimed jerry. "you do as i tell you or i'll make you!" exclaimed the brute. "i'm used to havin' my way!" "take your hand off!" commanded jerry, drawing back his fist, for he was strong and hot tempered. "now be nice, be nice!" sneered the man. "let go of him!" exclaimed ned coming forward and standing beside his chum, while bob also ranged up alongside. "we'll all take a hand in this if you force us to." "i can tackle the three of you with both hands tied behind my back," cried the miner, flushing with anger at being defied by the boys. "count me in too," spoke professor snodgrass, joining the lads. "i don't want to fight, but i will if i have to." now the professor, though a mild man, was, by reason of his out-of-door life, in fine physical condition, and no mean antagonist, which fact the miner saw. "oh well, i was only foolin'," the ugly chap remarked with a poor attempt at a smile. but his face showed his rage. he moved away in a few seconds, and shuffled to the end of the porch, where he soon fell asleep on a bench. bob looked over and saw him, as the boys were discussing the program for the remainder of the day. "let's play a trick on that brute," said bob. "what kind?" asked jerry. "you watch," replied chunky. "you'll see some fun." now it happened that the professor had among his collection of specimens several large stuffed snakes, for he was an expert taxidermist. there were also several horned toads and big lizards. bob got several of the ugliest ones and, with the aid of the scientist, who entered into the plan to pay a well deserved lesson to the miner, arranged the things about the sleeper, on the bench and on the floor of the porch. by this time most of the crowd at the hotel was aware what was going on, and, as few of them had any too much love for simmons they waited the outcome with interest. when the reptiles were placed in a circle about the sleeping miner, one of the men fired his revolver in the air. at the sound simmons awoke. at first he did not notice the reptiles, as he was on his back, staring up at the sky. then he suddenly sat up, and caught a glimpse of the ugly looking things. for a moment he seemed to be in doubt as to what he beheld. then he let out a yell that could have been heard almost a half mile. "wow!" he cried. "take 'em away. i'll never drink another drop! honest i won't! oh! oh! the horrible snakes! i'll shut my eyes so i can't see 'em!" but when he opened them again the reptiles were still there. "oh! oh! i see 'em still!" he yelled. "take 'em away, somebody, please do. oh i forgot! they ain't real! i only imagine i see 'em!" he got up on the bench and was dancing about in terror. then he drew his revolver, and was about to fire into the midst of the snakes. "he'll ruin my specimens!" cried the professor. one of the men ran forward, and began collecting the reptiles. simmons saw them being gathered up, and noticed that they were not wiggling. then the truth of it dawned on him, and he knew he had been fooled. his companions laughed loud and long. but simmons, unable to stand the jokes and jibes he knew would be poked at him, leaped over the porch railing and ran down the road as fast as he could go. "serves him right!" was the general verdict. chapter xv the story of lost lake the trick bob had played seemed to be much appreciated among the crowd of miners and herdsmen who were gathered at the hotel. they laughed loud and long over the sight simmons had presented. "i guess he'll know better than to fool with the next lad that comes along in one of them choo-choo wagons," was the hotel proprietor's comment. bob gathered up the specimens that belonged to the professor and they were put in the car, together with a fresh supply of provisions that were purchased at the village store. "i guess we'll be traveling," suggested the professor. the boys agreed with him, for though they knew the pleasures of sleeping beneath a roof, yet the character of the men who stayed at the hotel was so rough that they feared further rows. so, in spite of the entreaties of the hotel keeper they started off, having inquired the best roads to take. through the afternoon they bowled over a well elevated table land. the air was fine and bracing. off in the distance to the west could be seen the first ranges of the big mountains. "that's where our mine is," said jerry, his eyes shining. "maybe it isn't ours after all," put in bob. "now there you go, chunky. what do you want to call up unpleasant subjects for?" asked ned reproachfully. "anyhow it's our mine until some one takes it away from us, and i guess they'll have quite a fight, with nestor on guard." the others thought so too. jerry, who was steering, was sending the auto forward at a fast clip, when the professor, who always had his eyes open called out: "what's that just ahead of us? looks like a bear." "where?" asked ned. "right in line with that big rock," went on the scientist, who had very good eyes and could see a long distance. "it's only a tree stump," spoke bob. "i didn't know tree stumps could move," went on mr. snodgrass, "for this one is certainly coming toward us. it's not a bear after all," he continued, now that the object was nearer. "it's a bull! that's what it is! it looks as if it meant to go for us!" the boys could now see that the beast was one of the big, long-horned western cattle. it had evidently strayed from the herd, or had been made an outcast because of a bad temper and a perpetual desire to fight. the latter seemed more likely, for, as the auto proceeded, and the bull came on, lessening the distance between the two, a defiant bellow of rage sounded. "i hope he don't try to ram us," spoke jerry. "we don't want any more collisions." "see if you can't run away from him," suggested ned. by this time the bull was about one hundred yards away. it was coming straight for the auto. jerry opened the muffler and at the sound of the explosions the bull stopped short. at this point the road ran in a sort of depression, with hills rising on either side. it was rather narrow, so there was no chance to turn to one side. jerry had to bring the machine to a stop or else run the risk of hitting the bull. he thought the animal might run away if it saw the machine coming toward him, but there was nothing sure about this. "well, this is a regular hold-up," said the professor. "i wonder whether the bull wants to collect toll?" the animal seemed to be growing angrier and angrier every minute. it bellowed loudly, pawed the earth with its hoofs, and shook the lowered head, armed with sharp horns. occasionally the keen points would tear up the ground. "i wouldn't want him to strike one of our tires," remarked ned. "it would be all up with it." "hurrah! i have it!" cried bob at length. he dove beneath the rear seat and pulled up a shining object. "the ammonia squirt gun!" he exclaimed. "the same we used on the hold-up tramps. give the bull a dose of it!" "good idea," commented jerry. the bulb of the automatic pistol was still filled with the fiery liquid, for the boys kept it loaded in readiness for use. bob handed it over to jerry. the latter took careful aim, and pressed the rubber. a fine stream of the powerful stuff struck the bull full in the face. with a bellow that fairly shook the ground near-by the bull reared up in the air, and coming down on all fours snorted with rage, shook its head to rid its eyes of the terrible burning, and then dashed madly away. "now i guess we can get past," remarked bob, "and get some supper. i'm as hungry as a bear." a good fire was soon started and ned began to prepare the meal. while the others were setting out the dishes, or getting ready for the night camp, since it seemed there was no place for shelter in the neighborhood, the travelers were startled by a voice: "evenin' strangers," called a tall, thin man who strolled down the slight hill at the foot of which the party were encamped. "have you got a bite to spare?" "plenty," replied the professor cheerfully. "come right along. supper will be ready in a little while. are you hungry?" "hungry? i should say so. i haven't had a bit to eat for two days, except what berries and old nuts i could gather." "what's the matter? get lost?" asked jerry. "exactly," replied the stranger. "my name's johnson," he went on. "i was prospecting up in the hills, and got lost there." "anybody with you?" asked ned. "nary a soul; i'm all alone. i used up the last of my grub in trying to find the trail, and i guess i'd been looking for it yet if i hadn't heard the noise of your steam engine here, and smelled the cooking. i s'pose you're huntin' for it, same as me." "hunting for what?" asked the professor, struck by johnson's manner. "why lost lake, to be sure. nobody comes out this far unless they're huntin' for the lake, but you're the first to come in a steam car without rails." "well, it's a free country," remarked the scientist, wishing to evade giving a direct answer, in the hope of learning something. "i guess we have a right to hunt for the lake." "of course, of course you have, strangers," went on johnson. "no offense. have you struck a trace of it yet?" "not yet," replied mr. snodgrass. "to tell you the truth," the professor went on, "we don't know much about this lost lake." "nor no one else," said johnson. "i'll tell you all i know, which isn't much. i've been looking for it 'most a year now." "suppose we have supper first," suggested the professor as he noted the eyes johnson was casting at the food. "we can talk afterward." "that's the best word i've heard in a good while," said the newcomer. he ate with a rapidity that left no doubt about his hunger. nor were the others far behind him, as the crisp air of the mountain region had given them all famous appetites. "now for lost lake," spoke jerry when all had their fill. "it's supposed to be in those mountains over there," began johnson, pointing to the range off in the west, now dimly discernible in the dusk. "it's said to be a beautiful sheet of water, with high peaks all around it. it was discovered forty years ago by a prospector, and he came to the nearest village with the news. but when he went to lead a party back they couldn't find the trail. ever since then people have tried to find lost lake, but no one has ever succeeded. many have been killed trying." "but why does any one want to find a lake hidden in the mountains?" asked mr. snodgrass. "yes, tell us?" asked ned. "why, for the gold on its banks, of course," said johnson. "didn't i say that? i meant to. the man who discovered it said there were pebbles of gold on the shores. he brought back a pocket full to prove it. i got the fever quite a few months ago, but nothing has come of all my efforts, and this time i nearly died. it was terrible up in the mountains. there's not a soul there i believe." "and you didn't even get a glimpse of the lake?" asked ned. "nary a look, young man. but i'm sure it's there. i'm going back to town, get a new outfit and some provisions, and have another try." he was another example of how the gold fever grips one. "maybe we'll come across the lake, though we're not looking for it," said jerry. "maybe you will," assented the prospector. "that's generally the way. the first man was not hunting for it, but he came upon it one night when the moon was shining. if you do find it, look out for the old hermit, that's all." chapter xvi a lonely cabin "what hermit?" asked jerry. "why you haven't heard half the story of lost lake," went on johnson. "there's supposed to be a sort of wild man who lives on the shores of the lake, and he murders travelers. at least that's the yarn they tell." "was the hermit always there?" asked ned. "no, only the last few years," replied johnson. "he is said to be an old man with white hair. but i don't believe that part. let me find the lake and the gold, and i won't worry about hermits." the prospector camped with the travelers that night. they were all up early the next morning, and, at the professor's suggestion the boys gave johnson plenty of provisions to last him until he could get back to civilization. "maybe you would like to go along with us and look for the lake?" suggested bob. "no, thank you," replied johnson. "i'm afraid your chances of finding it are slimmer than mine are. i'll have another try all by myself. i'm much obliged for the help you've given me." then, shouldering his pack, he started off down the trail, while the travelers, packing their things in the auto, set forward again. the boys talked about little save the story of lost lake, but the professor was too busy arranging his latest specimens to join in the conversation. "i'd like to find it and see the wild hermit," said bob. "i don't s'pose you'd care anything about the gold," put in ned. "of course i would," replied bob. "but we've got one gold mine now, what do we want of another?" "it might be well to have a second in case we lose the first," jerry ventured. "nothing like having plenty while you're at it." "i wouldn't like to be a hermit," went on bob. "think of always being hungry." "chunky is thinking of misers, i guess," laughed ned. "there's nothing to prevent a hermit from living off the fat of the land. if it wasn't for being lonesome i'd be a hermit for a while." "stop the auto!" called the professor suddenly. "i just saw a fine specimen of a snapping turtle scoot across the road. i must have it. it's worth about twenty dollars to me. stop the car! i must get out!" ned, who was running the auto, shut off the power and the machine came to a stop. before it had ceased to move mr. snodgrass had leaped out and was running back. he began a hurried but careful search over the ground. then he was seen to spring forward. "he's got it, i guess," remarked jerry. an instant later there came a howl from the scientist, who was hidden from sight by the tall grass. "help, boys! help!" "what's the matter? won't he let you catch him?" cried ned. "he's caught me!" yelled the professor. "come quick and bring a knife to cut his head off with!" the boys piled out of the auto in a hurry, jerry stopping to grab up a big carving knife from the camp utensils. when they came up to the professor they hardly knew whether to laugh or not. the turtle, which was a big one, had grabbed the scientist by the thumb, and was clinging so tightly that it was suspended in the air, swaying to and fro. meanwhile mr. snodgrass was dancing about in pain. "why don't you take hold of the turtle's shell in the other hand, and you won't feel the weight so much!" called jerry. "i can't," replied the professor. "i have a rare specimen of a toad in my other hand, and i don't want to lose it. oh boys! hurry up, and pry the turtle's jaws open, but don't hurt him, for he's valuable." "can't you put the toad in your pocket?" asked ned, knowing the scientist had no scruples about loading his garments up with all sorts of things. "then you would have one hand free." "i never thought of that," said mr. snodgrass. "i can do that, can't i?" he did so, and, once the toad was secure he took hold of the turtle, which relieved his lacerated thumb from the dragging weight. "he won't let go!" exclaimed the professor, after a vain attempt to pull the turtle loose. "it is a genuine snapper, and they have a grip like a bull dog. i am glad i found it, in spite of the pain," he added, though just then, the turtle took a fresh hold and the professor squirmed in agony. "here; i'll cut its head off," said jerry, coming forward with the knife. "no, no!" exclaimed the professor. "it is too valuable to spoil. just take the point of the blade, and pry the jaws open while i hold it steady." jerry tried to do this, but the turtle only seemed to grip the tighter, and the professor's thumb was bitten through nearly to the bone. "what shall i do?" wailed mr. snodgrass. "i don't want to kill it." "i have it!" exclaimed ned. "there's a little puddle of water over there beside the road. dip the turtle in it, and he'll think he can swim. then he'll let go." "good!" cried the professor as he proceeded to put the plan in operation. "then i can save him alive." the scheme worked well. as soon as the turtle felt the water it let go, and started to swim off. but the puddle was too shallow, and the professor, watching his chance, grabbed the reptile again. this time he took care to catch it at the middle of the shell, where the turtle could not reach around and bite. "i have it, after all," remarked the scientist as he deposited his prize in a box, and proceeded to put some salve and a rag on his thumb. "it's a rare specimen. i'm glad i got it." "and we're all glad we didn't get it," spoke jerry with a laugh in which the others joined. but the professor took it good naturedly. he was used to such accidents he said. resuming their journey, the travelers made only one more stop, that at noon, to get dinner. they had seen no signs of human habitation, and, as the afternoon wore on, and no house or cabin was seen, they began to feel that they might as well prepare to camp out again. as they were descending a gentle, sloping hill that led down into a small valley, just as the sun was setting, they saw, about a mile ahead a lonely cabin. the sight of smoke coming from the chimney told them there was some one at home. "i hope whoever lives there can accommodate us," remarked chunky. "my appetite's getting the upper hand of me again." "it don't look large enough to hold us all," observed jerry. "there's a barn, or some sort of building, in the rear," remarked ned. "some of us can use that if the man or woman lets us." a few minutes later the auto came to a stop in front of the cabin, which was indeed a lonely one, not another dwelling, large or small, showing in the whole valley. "good evening," greeted an old man, with snow-white hair falling over his shoulders. he came to the door of the shack, and seemed to regard the coming travelers as a matter of course. "i am glad to see you," he went on. "you are just in time." "time for what?" asked mr. snodgrass. "for the great final and successful experiment," proceeded the aged man. "the test is about to begin. come in and see me make gold from common earth. at last i have found the long-lost secret!" the eyes of the lonely man glowed with a strange light, and he seemed so excited that the boys did not know what to do. "humor him," advised the professor in a whisper. "he is probably a harmless lunatic. let him have his way, and pretend to agree with all he says." "will you come in?" went on the old man. "i must proceed with my work." "we'll be glad to," went on the scientist. "that is, if we will not disturb you at your labors." "my labors are now ended," the man said. "i have worked for twenty years on the secret of making gold from the baser metals. at last i have the correct method. i will be a millionaire in another month. but come in! come in!" the boys, obeying mr. snodgrass's advice, went in, the scientist following them. they saw that the cabin, though small, was neat and clean. nearly all of the first of two rooms was occupied by a large, rudely made furnace, while on a table near it stood all sorts of chemical apparatus. on the furnace a pot was boiling furiously. "now for the last act in the drama of life," said the aged man. "see, i place in the pot these pieces of brass," and he showed the travelers some chunks of the yellow stuff. he put them in the pot, from which arose a cloud of steam. "next i throw in this powder, which i have labored on for years. it is the secret that men would give their lives for." he threw the powder into the pot, which boiled more furiously than before, and a white cloud of steam arose. then it died away, and the pot seemed to cool off. "now for the gold!" exclaimed the chemist. he lifted the pot from the furnace, and, holding it with some thick cloths poured the water off into a hole in the ground floor of the cabin. out toppled the pieces of brass which had been thrown in, but while they had been dull before, they now glittered with the yellow gleam of gold. "the test! the test!" exclaimed the old man in a voice that trembled with eagerness. he placed one of the yellow pieces on the table, and put a few drops of gold-testing acid on it. there was a little hissing sound, and then, on the shiny surface of the piece of metal there came a dull black spot. the old man uttered a despairing cry. "another failure!" he exclaimed. "it is brass still. i thought it would turn to gold! i must have made a mistake in mixing the powder." chapter xvii the indian and the auto for a few moments the scientist who hoped he had discovered the fabled power to transmute metals stared at the result of his latest trial. he appeared lost in thought. then he seemed to recollect that there were strangers present. "i am sorry my experiment did not succeed," he said in a more quiet voice than he had yet used. "i hoped to show you what i can do. well, i must try again. i think i know where i made the error. i had too much soda in the powder. i will use less next time." "we are sorry to interrupt your experiments," put in the professor, "but we are travelers, and our object in stopping here was to find out if you could take us in for the night." "gladly," replied the old man. "there is a barn in the rear, but it has not been occupied in years; not since i came here. you are welcome to use that. some of you can spend the night in the rear room. as for me i shall not go to bed. i must start at once and make up some fresh powders." "i think perhaps we had all better sleep in the barn," said the professor. "then we will not disturb you at your labors." the truth of it was mr. snodgrass saw that the aged man was not altogether right in his head, and he preferred not to be too near in case the fellow should suddenly become violent. "just as you like, just as you like," was the reply to the professor's decision, and the chemist seemed to be dreaming over some problem he was trying to solve. "may we cook some of our food on your stove?" asked jerry. "why certainly. i beg your pardon for not mentioning supper," spoke the man, "but you see i am so used to getting a bite whenever i need it, so as not to interrupt my work, that i forgot there is such a thing as hospitality. make yourselves at home, and, if you find anything in the cupboards help yourselves. meanwhile please excuse me if i do not join you. i must go out and gather some roots and herbs i need in my experiments." he left the cabin, and, after bringing in some provisions from the auto, having first ascertained that there were few in the cabin, the travelers proceeded to make a meal. "do you suppose he can be the hermit of lost lake?" asked bob. "well, he's certainly a hermit," spoke the professor, "but i don't believe there's a lake of any kind about here. certainly if he was the hermit of the lake he would not be away off here. no, i am inclined to think we shall never see the lost lake or the hermit either." "do you think it will be safe to stay here all night?" inquired chunky. "i think so," was the professor's reply. "you see we will be out in another building, and we can fasten the door. if he tries to get in, which i am sure he will not, he will make noise enough to awaken us." "we could mount guard," suggested ned. "it will not be necessary," mr. snodgrass said. nor did the travelers find it so. after their meal, having left a good supply of victuals for the old man in case he came back, they retired to the rear building where they slept soundly. after breakfast, which the old man did not spend more than five minutes over, the travelers prepared to resume their trip. "you had better stay one more night," urged the owner of the cabin. "i feel sure that i shall be successful to-night. i have discovered a new root. see, i call it gold threads," and he held up some bulbs that had been dug from the ground. clinging to them were small yellow fibres or roots. "i found them last night, down in the hollow by the mineral spring," the man went on. "i am sure they are just what i need. please stay; won't you?" but the professor told him, as gently as possible, that they must keep on. so, after bidding the gold-seeker good bye, and wishing him success, the boys and mr. snodgrass proceeded, the auto puffing along at a good rate. the weather continued fine and the air was bracing and cool, for they were well up among the foothills now. during the morning the road led up a gentle slope, but at noon they camped on a sort of ridge that marked the divide. on the other side was a vast plain, bounded at the further side by tall mountains. it was well along in the afternoon, when having descended to the plain, the travelers found themselves bowling along a fine road, on either side of which were rolling fields. mile after mile was covered, everyone enjoying the trip very much. the professor, however, was beginning to show signs of uneasiness. he fidgeted about in his seat, and seemed unable to remain quiet. "what's the matter?" asked bob at length. "to tell you the truth," said the scientist, "i want to get out and get some specimens, but i did not like to ask you, for i do not want to delay the party." they all voted that the professor should be given a chance to get as many specimens as he wanted. accordingly jerry brought the car to a stop, and the boys and the scientist got out. as the engine had not been running as smoothly as was desirable jerry did not shut off the power, merely throwing out the gear clutches. he said he wanted to have the cylinders warm up, and so the engine was left going, though the car itself stood still. the professor was soon busy gathering insects of various kinds from the tall grass, and even crawling on his hands and knees over the ground. the boys walked some distance off, to stretch their legs, for they were a little tired of sitting still so long. suddenly bob, who happened to glance back toward the auto, uttered a cry. "look!" he shouted. "some one is stealing our car and going off in it!" the others looked. the sight that met their eyes was enough to astonish any one. climbing into the automobile was a big indian, attired in gay colored blankets, a rifle slung across his back, while near him stood a pinto pony, clean-cut and wiry. while they watched they saw the red man seat himself comfortably at the steering wheel, reach forward to throw the gear clutch in place, and then the car moved off, taking the indian with it. "here! come back!" "stop that auto!" "get out of that!" these were some of the things the boys yelled at the bold thief. but all of no avail. the indian threw in the second gear, and the auto went faster than before. "come on! we must catch him!" cried jerry, and he began to run in the direction the auto was fast disappearing in, down the road. "we can never catch him," called bob. "yes we can! he can't know anything about running an auto!" panted jerry. "he'll put on the brake or pull the wrong lever next, and the machine will stop!" "that is unless he blows it up first or smashes it," said bob. "what's the matter?" asked mr. snodgrass, appearing at this juncture. bob was the only one left to tell him, as jerry and ned were running down the road at top speed. but it seemed that their race would be useless, for the auto was now running on third gear. and, strangest of all, the indian seemed to know how to operate it. he kept a straight course, and the puffing of the exhaust told jerry that the engine was running to perfection, with a good supply of gasolene, and the spark coming regularly. [illustration: the indian seemed to know how to operate it.] "who--ever--heard--of--an--indian running--an--auto," panted ned. "running--away--with--one--you--mean," said jerry, his breathing labored. further and further away from the pursuing boys the auto went. it seemed hopeless to keep after it, but neither jerry nor ned would give up. they realized what it meant to lose their machine, though they could not understand how an indian, in all his wild regalia, would think of getting into an auto. suddenly there sounded down the road the patter of hoof beats. "maybe that's more indians," said jerry turning around and slowing up in his running. "no," he added, "it's bob on the indian's pony. i wonder you or i didn't think of that." "he couldn't catch up with the auto if he had two ponies," growled ned. "the only chance is that the gasolene may give out, or the sparker refuse to work, or that he may run into a sand bank," lamented jerry. "and there don't seem to be much chance of either taking place right off," put in ned. "hark! what's that?" from down the road sounded the _toot! toot!_ of the auto horn. "it sounds as if he was coming back," said jerry. just then bob caught up to them on the pony. chapter xviii lost lake found "let me past! i'll catch him!" cried bob. "wait a minute! maybe that's him coming back?" replied jerry. sure enough the next instant the auto, which had been lost to sight by reason of a turn in the road, came into view. straight up the highway it came, the figure of the indian, wrapped in his blanket, with his headdress of feathers, an altogether brilliant figure, seated at the wheel; a strange enough combination as any one will admit. the red man acted as though he had been used to running autos all his life. he sat straight as an arrow, his hands grasping the wheel, which was sending the car straight for the boys. "he's just doing this to taunt us!" exclaimed jerry. "i have a good notion to take a shot at one of the tires with my revolver and scare him into stopping." "don't do it! you might kill him," said ned, "and you wouldn't want to do that. but what does he mean by stealing the car, and then bringing it back?" a few seconds later the auto drew up in front of the boys, who had come to a halt. with an ease that bespoke long experience the indian brought the machine to a stop, and then, while the lads looked on, so full of wonder at the whole occurrence that they did not know what to say, the red man grunted: "heap fine wagon. ugh! indian like um, he buy um! how much?" "look here!" burst out jerry, so angry that he hardly took note of what the red man had said. "do you know you are a--" then a strange thing happened. wrapping his blankets closely about him, and drawing himself up to his full height of over six feet, the indian said calmly: "i really beg your pardon for the unwarranted liberty i took with your car, but when i saw it standing out here, so far from civilization, i could not resist the temptation to take a ride. i trust you will overlook it." for a moment the boys were speechless, for the indian they had supposed one from the half-wild plain tribes, and whose every appearance indicated that, had spoken in english as cultured as that of a college professor. "what--why--when--where?" stammered jerry, and the indian burst into a laugh. "i see i must explain," he said. "i am not what i seem." "aren't you an indian?" asked ned. "a full blooded one, and the chief of a tribe," spoke the red man. "but i am not the half dime library sort. "you see," he went on, "i have just come back from the school at carlisle, where i am taking a post graduate course. i felt a sudden longing to don the dress of my ancestors, and roam the broad fields. i did so, starting from my home on the reservation this morning. i came along and saw the auto. as i said, the temptation was too strong to resist. i got in and took a little spin, as you saw. i am sorry if i caused you annoyance, or made you fear your machine had been stolen." the eyes of the indian twinkled and, beneath the paint on his face, the boys could see a smile coming. "but how in the world did you learn to run a car?" asked jerry. "easy enough," was the answer. "i acted as chauffeur for several months this vacation to earn money enough to continue my studies. i got to be quite an expert. that is a fine car you have." "well i'm stumped!" exclaimed bob. "how do you like my pony?" asked the red man. "i think we made a sort of unfair exchange, though, in spite of the fact that the animal is valuable. now let me apologize once more, and then i will take my animal and go home." "you are welcome to the ride," said jerry. "we were so surprised at first that we took you for a thief." "i don't blame you," spoke the indian. "the sight of a red man in an automobile is enough to make any one wonder. well, heap big chief, whistling wind in the pine, must go." "is that your name?" asked ned. "it's my indian one," was the answer, "but at the school i am known as paul rader. now let me bid you good day, and a pleasant journey." then, before they could ask him to take a ride with them, the boys saw the indian leap on his pony, from which bob had dismounted, and ride away at a smart gallop, his blanket flying out behind him in the wind. "well, that's the limit!" exclaimed ned. "to think of a wild-civilized indian playing a trick like that." "i certainly thought he was as wild as they come," put in bob. "i was afraid it was all up with us." then the professor appeared and they told him the story. "i wish i had met him," said the professor. "what for; did you know him?" asked jerry. "no, but he would probably be able to tell me where to get some fine specimens," remarked the scientist. in a short time they were all in the auto again, and were bowling along over the table land, the machine humming in a way that told that the cylinders were working well. they camped for supper, and then, as it was a fine moon light night they determined to continue on slowly, as they wanted to make up for lost time. the moon rose early, a big silver disk shining among the trees, when the autoists started on their night journey. "this is great!" exclaimed bob, who seemed to have forgotten his desire for a bed under shelter. "wouldn't it be fun to have a lot of indians chase us now?" "it might if they were tame ones," put in jerry, who was steering, "but excuse me from any wild ones." the road soon began a gentle ascent, and the auto ran more slowly up the hill. the road, too, became narrower, winding in and out. the trees, which had been scattering, were thicker, and the travelers could see they were getting well up among the mountains. "how late are you going to travel?" asked bob of jerry. "until nearly midnight," was the answer. "the moon begins to go down then and it will not be very safe. but i think we ought to cover as big a distance as possible while we can. we have had delays enough." the only noise, besides the puffing of the machine, were the cries of owls, the chirping of crickets and katy-dids, with, now and then, the howl of a wolf or fox. in spite of the number in the party, there was a feeling of loneliness about being so far from civilization among the wilds of the mountain region. up and up went the car, until the ascent became so steep that jerry was obliged to run on the low gear. this made progress slow, and, because of the uneven road, so risky, that it seemed unwise to proceed further that night. "i'll slow up when we get to the top of this hill," said jerry, "and we'll go into camp." but he reckoned without knowing what sort of a hill it was, nor did he calculate on the auto failing to stop as soon as he expected. for that was what happened. reaching the summit of the slope jerry shut off the power. but something went wrong with the mechanism. the auto continued on, slowly to be sure, but with enough momentum to send it over the brow of the hill. then it plunged down on the other side, gathering speed every minute. "is she running away?" asked ned. "seems so to me." "she's not behaving as well as she should," replied jerry, "but i have her under control. the brake is working all right," which fact he soon ascertained. faster and faster, however, in spite of the brake, did the auto plunge down the slope. jerry kept his head, however, and was working to bring the machine to a halt. all at once bob, looking up, saw where the road made a sudden turn to the left. "look out for that!" he cried, pointing. jerry tried to make the turn, but the steering wheel suddenly became a little stiff, so that, instead of the car being turned to the left, and around the bend, it kept straight on. there was a crackling of brush and tree branches, and the big machine left the road and began plowing up the side of a slope, around the lower edge of which the road wound. "duck!" cried ned, as a tree branch hit him in the face. they all did so, and the next instant the big machine crashed through some briars, bending down several saplings in its journey. then, having exhausted the momentum, the auto came to a stop, at the summit of the little slope, and jerry jammed on the brakes to hold it there, the band this time gripping the axle firmly. "look! oh look!" cried ned, pointing ahead and down below them. there, in a sort of basin formed by high hills, lay a body of water, sparkling and beautiful in the moonlight, the shadows of tall black mountains reflected in its calm surface. "it's lost lake!" exclaimed jerry, softly. "boys! we have found lost lake! i am sure of it!" for a few seconds no one spoke after that, for they were all lost in wonder at the beauty and strangeness of the sight. it was so quiet that it seemed almost as if it was but a picture painted by a master's hand. suddenly bob, who was staring intently at the upper end of the lake, grasped ned by the arm. "see," he whispered. "what's that? that thing in white?" chapter xix the ghost of the lake they all looked to where bob pointed. at first they could make out nothing, but bob insisted that he had seen some tall, white object moving. "it was just like the description of ghosts," he said, with a queer little laugh. "i see it," said jerry, softly. "right by the big white birch." "sure enough," remarked the professor. then they all beheld a tall white form in the pale moonlight, gliding from tree to tree, on the shore of the lake. "look, it is picking up something from the shore," said ned. "maybe it's the hermit the miner told us about, gathering gold." "nonsense," said jerry. "it's probably a bit of fog, or it may be a white fox, or a wolf." "no fox or wolf is as big as that," insisted ned. "i'll bet it's the hermit." "whatever it is, it's gone now," put in bob. and, sure enough, the object suddenly disappeared among the trees, and there was nothing in sight but the lake, the mountains and the moonlight. "well, we seem to have stumbled onto the lake," remarked jerry. "if the auto had not misbehaved we would have taken the regular road, and lost lake would still be lost. as it is we have found it." "i hope we find some of the gold, as well," put in ned. "we may need the yellow pebbles if our mine is gone." "whatever we do, we shall stay here until morning," said jerry. "it will be a good place to camp, anyhow, gold or no gold." so they all busied themselves in preparing to stay there for the rest of the night. a fire was built and a midnight supper was soon in preparation. they had good appetites, and, tired with the day's journey and events, they got out their blankets and slept soundly. by daylight the lake was seen to be a large sheet of water, rather irregular in outline, with many small bays and coves. shimmering in the sunlight the water made a beautiful picture. "here goes to see if there are any golden pebbles on the shore," remarked bob, with a whoop as soon as he had crawled from the improvised bed. he did not have to stop and dress for the travelers slept in their clothes. chunky climbed down the slope, along a rather rough path to the water. some time later jerry and ned were about to follow, when they heard bob yelling at the top of his voice. "what's the matter?" called jerry. "have you found the gold?" cried ned. "maybe the hermit has attacked him," suggested the professor. they all ran to the water's edge. when they reached the shore bob was nowhere in sight. "hi, bob! where are you?" cried jerry looking around. "here!" exclaimed chunky, suddenly, bobbing up from beneath the little waves about one hundred feet from shore. "did you fall in?" asked the professor, anxiously. "no, i jumped in," replied the boy. "i'm in swimming. come on in, the water's fine!" "good for you!" called ned and the next instant he was undressed and splashing out toward bob. jerry soon joined them, and even the professor took a dip. the water was somewhat cool, but after they were once in it was invigorating, and they swam about for half an hour, greatly enjoying the luxury of a bath. "hark! what was that?" asked ned, suddenly. there came a whirring of wings and a rustling of the leaves of the bushes off to the left. then a bevy of birds sailed through the air. "partridge, or some similar bird, i would say," was the professor's opinion. "and there goes a big rabbit!" cried bob. "yes, and there's another!" exclaimed jerry. "say, we have struck a game country if we haven't a gold one. i say, what's the matter with having a hunt?" "good!" cried bob and ned. "i think it would do no harm to replenish the larder with something fresh," remarked the professor. accordingly, after breakfast, guns were gotten ready and the boys and the professor tramped off through the woods, taking care not to go too far from the lake, as the trees were thick, and, as there were no trails blazed, it would be easy to get lost. ned bagged the first partridge, and bob came second, getting two in succession. jerry had hard luck, for twice he missed easy shots. a little later, however, he bowled over a plump rabbit, and followed it up with a second. then ned got one, and jerry succeeded in bagging a couple of fine birds. some of the game was served for dinner, which was eaten by a campfire, and very fine it was voted. then some was packed away in salt, against a possible time when provisions might be hard to get. "what do you say, shall we stay here another night or push on?" asked jerry, about the middle of the afternoon. "if you ask me," said the professor, "i should say to remain here. i saw a number of fine and rare specimens i would like to gather." "the only thing is, perhaps we had better join nestor as soon as possible," remarked ned. "i think a few days' delay can do no harm," mr. snodgrass said. "from the tone of nestor's letter i would say there was no immediate danger of the mine being claimed by others." "then we'll stay," said jerry. "i would like to investigate the lake a little more. we did not go very far along the shore. perhaps there might be an outcropping of gold somewhere around this locality." "and maybe we will see the hermit, or the ghost, or whatever it is," added ned. "let's stay." "then we ought to rig up some kind of shelter," went on jerry. "it may rain in the night, and it's not the most pleasant thing in the world to sleep in a mud puddle." "we can build a shack of boughs," said bob. and this they did. they had often done the same thing before. branches from a pine tree, stacked up against a sapling cut to fit between the crotches of two trees, with the same sort of boughs for a roof and floor, made a very good shelter. rubber blankets on top insured the rain being kept out, and with woolen coverings for inside, beds were made that were very comfortable. when these preparations had been made it was growing dusk. while bob and ned were getting supper, and the professor was busy arranging his specimens gathered that day, jerry removed one of the big search-lights from the auto. "what are doing that for?" asked bob. "i'm going to try and find out what that white thing is," said jerry. "i'm going to rig up a lantern in front of the shack, facing the lake, and if the hermit or whatever it is, shows up, i'm going to flash the light on it." "maybe it won't come to-night," suggested bob. but it did. it was along about midnight when ned felt a light touch on his arm. "what's the matter?" he asked, sitting up. "come on," whispered jerry. "i see something down by the lake, and i want to investigate. be careful, don't make any noise." bob and the professor were both sleeping so soundly that they did not hear jerry and ned leave the shack. "where is it?" asked ned. "there," replied jerry, pointing to a spot about three hundred feet away, and on the shore of the lake. "it was there a minute ago, but it's gone now. watch, it will come back." he busied himself over the search-light, making ready to light it quickly and flash the beams on the ghost or hermit, or whatever it should prove to be. "there it is!" called ned, in a hoarse whisper. "right by that big rock that runs out into the water." "i see!" said jerry, softly. there was a hissing sound as jerry turned on the acetylene gas, a snapping sound as he lit the match, and then a slight puff as the vapor ignited. the next instant a glaring shaft of light shot down toward the lake, glint on a strange object. there in the glare of the white beams stood the figure of an old man. his hair was snow white, and hung down long over his shoulders. he seemed bent with age, and this was made more pronounced because he bore a heavy bag on his back. he was right at the edge of the water. the sudden glare had startled him, and he turned in surprise and fear to see whence it came. his face stood out in strong relief, and jerry started, for he dimly remembered seeing some one who looked like that some time before. then, all at once the stillness of the night was broken by a shrill scream. ned and jerry were startled, and bob and the professor, in the shack, were awakened. chapter xx the mysterious woman "look!" exclaimed ned. then, as he and jerry watched what took place in the circle of light, they beheld a woman, her long hair streaming down her back, run from the woods up to the old man. in her hand she held a big club, and with it she endeavored to strike the aged man. the latter dropped his sack, and seemed to engage in a struggle with the woman. "he's killing her!" exclaimed ned. "this is the hermit we were warned against." "come on!" cried jerry. "we must see what it means." but, just as he started down the slope, the search-light went out, leaving the place in utter blackness, for the moon was under a cloud. when jerry had succeeded in getting the light going again, the man and woman were nowhere to be seen. "well, that certainly was a queer sight," remarked ned. "i wonder what it all means?" "i guess we'll have to stay here until we find out," said jerry. "it looked as if there was going to be trouble, at one time." "what's all the excitement about?" asked the professor, coming out of the shack, followed by bob. jerry related what they had seen, and the professor agreed that it would be better to remain and make an investigation. "i say, you fellows are mean to go off alone and have a cracking adventure like that," objected bob, in a grieved tone. "we didn't want to disturb your slumbers," said ned. "don't eat so much supper next time, and you will not sleep so sound," advised jerry. but bob was not to be appeased until promised that the next time ned and jerry went ghost hunting they would take him with them. having been so thoroughly aroused from their sleep the travelers decided to sit up a while and see if they could catch another glimpse of the strange man and woman. but, though they sat and talked for more than an hour, there was no further sign of the two queer creatures. "i'm going to bed," announced bob at length, and the others decided to follow his example. they slept soundly until morning, though jerry said afterward that he dreamed he was being chased across the frozen lake by a white haired man on a black horse. he got stuck in the ice, and was freezing to death, when he awakened to find that his blanket had slipped from him, and that a cold rain was blowing in through the cracks of the shack. morning had dawned cold and dreary. "wow! this isn't exactly pleasant!" exclaimed jerry, as he poked his head out of the front of the screen of branches. "i wish there was a hotel handy." the others crawled from beneath the blankets, not in any too good humor at the dismal prospect. "and i'll bet there isn't any dry wood to be had," said bob. "that means a cold breakfast." a search proved that he was right. nor was there any charcoal, since the last had been used some days before, and they had been to no place where they could get more. "just when a fellow needs a hot cup of coffee," went on bob. "i never saw such beastly luck." jerry said nothing. he seemed to be studying over some matter. "i have it," he exclaimed. "what? some dry wood?" asked ned with much eagerness. "no, but i know how to make some hot coffee," was the answer. jerry lost no time in explaining. he first went to the auto where he got out rubber coats for himself and his companions. then, ready to defy the rain, which was coming down at a good clip, jerry hunted about until he found two large stones. these he set up a short distance apart, placing another each at the front and rear of the first two. "there's the stove," he remarked. "a heap of good it will do, with no fire in it," growled bob. "wait," advised jerry. taking the big search-light, which he had used the night previous, he removed the top, so that the flame could be used for cooking purposes. they prepared a good meal and enjoyed it. it continued to rain, and to fill in time the boys went fishing in the lake. luck was with them and within half an hour they had ten fine fish, and then, though they could have taken many more, they did not, as jerry said they would have no use for them. "fish for dinner for me to-day," said bob, while the others laughed at his usual exhibition of how fond of eating he was. the fish did prove an excellent dish, fried in corn meal on jerry's improvised stove. some bacon gave them a relish, and with hot coffee they felt they had as good a meal as many a hotel could serve. "i wonder where the professor is?" said ned, when the meal was almost over. "i forgot that he wasn't with us." "he's off gathering birds, bugs or reptiles," said jerry. "he'll come when he feels good and hungry." "he's more likely to forget all about being hungry if he gets chasing a fine specimen," remarked ned. "i think i'll just take a stroll and see if i can come across him." "we'll go along," said jerry and bob. so the three started off together. they could easily follow the professor's trail, as he had broken through the underbrush, snapping off many twigs and breaking small branches. the boys wandered on for nearly a mile, but saw no sign of the scientist. they were about to turn back, and wait for him at camp, when jerry held up his hand to indicate silence. "hark!" he whispered. the others stood still, and, listening intently, heard above the patter of the raindrops, voices in conversation. "that's the professor," said ned. "some one is with him then," put in jerry. "they are coming this way." the sounds of persons advancing through the bushes could be heard. the voices also sounded plainer. a minute later the brush was parted and the professor, followed by a woman, came out into the little clearing where the boys were. at the sight of the woman, jerry started, for he recognized her as the strange person who had been with the old man the night previous. the professor seemed excited about something. "boys, this lady has just told me some strange news," he said. "what is it?" asked ned. "beware of the hermit of lost lake!" the woman exclaimed suddenly. "have a care of him. many poor travelers has he murdered. he would have murdered you last night if i had not prevented him." "so that's what it was all about," said jerry, half aloud. the woman heard him, and turned: "did you see him?" she asked. "did you see me?" "i--we--" began jerry. "you have been spying on me!" exclaimed the woman, growing much excited. chapter xxi the den of the hermit "no, no!" said the professor calmly. "the boys were not spying. they happened to see a man and a woman on the shore of the lake last night, and they thought it might have been you." "it was me," said the woman. "i was trying to prevent him from coming and killing you all in your sleep." the boys began to feel a queer creepy sensation run up their spines, as if some one had poured cold water down their backs. "it's true," the strange creature went on. "i will tell you all about it. listen to me," and she sat down on a stump. "perhaps we had better go where there is shelter," suggested jerry, for it was raining hard again, though the boys and the professor in their rubber coats did not mind it. the woman was drenched. "no," she said. "i can go to no place save these woods. i am safe from him here." she seemed nervous and excited, and her eyes seemed unnaturally bright. "the old man is a hermit," she went on. "he has lived near this lake for many years. he kills travelers and takes their money. he tried to kill me but i escaped from him because i can run fast. since then he has been after me. last night he started for your camp, but i got a big club and stopped him. then he ran away." "what was in the bag?" asked ned. "what bag?" asked the woman. "the one the old man had on his back?" "hush! don't speak about it," was the reply. "he had a murdered man's body in there, and he threw it into the lake." "are you sure?" asked the professor, thinking the woman might, perhaps, be trying to scare them away. "positive," she replied. "i saw him kill the poor fellow, but the hermit did not know i was watching." "where does he live?" asked the professor. "he has a den in the darkest part of the woods," was the answer. "he takes travelers there and kills them. he does not know that i know where it is, but i do. would you like to see it?" "not if he is the kind of a person you say he is," spoke jerry. "i think we had better steer clear of him." "i can take you there when he is not at home," said the woman. "listen, once each week he takes a long trip over the mountain, to bury the gold he has taken from travelers. i can hide and watch him go. then i could come and bring you to his den. shall i?" "it might be a good plan," mused the professor. "if this man is a murderer he should be taken in charge by the authorities. yes, come and let us know when he goes away. perhaps we could capture him ourselves." "i'll come," said the woman. "now i must go, for i hear some one coming," and, rising suddenly, she ran off at top speed through the woods. the boys listened intently but could hear no one approaching, and began to think the woman must have been mistaken. "where did you meet her?" asked jerry of the professor, when it was seen that the woman was not coming back. "she saw me while i was gathering some specimens," was the reply, "and she came up to warn me about the hermit. it seems that she lives not far away, and roams through the woods. besides telling me about the old man, and to be on our guard against him, she showed me where to get some beautiful tree toads," and the scientist opened his pocket and showed it full of the little creatures. "do you think she is telling the truth about the hermit?" asked jerry. "there may be some exaggeration to it," rejoined the professor, "but i have heard of old half crazed men who lived in the woods as this one does, and who occasionally murdered lone travelers. we can't be too careful." "besides, it did look as though she was trying to prevent him doing something last night," put in jerry. "well, we'll keep a good lookout," suggested the professor. "that's all we can do now, unless we decide to move on away from this place." "i would rather like to solve the mystery," said jerry. "i do not think we have much to fear. he is an old man, and i guess we four are a match for him." "then we had better do as the woman says, wait until she comes to lead us to his hut, or cabin, or whatever it is," the professor advised after a moment's thought. that plan settled on, they made their way back to camp and the professor was given his rather late dinner. but he did not seem to mind this in the least. "are you going to keep watch again to-night?" asked bob of jerry. "of course. i want to get at the bottom of this. there is a mystery somewhere, and i think the hermit, the lost lake and the strange woman, together, can explain it." the rain stopped after supper, though it remained cloudy, and jerry again prepared the gas lamp. it was arranged that he and ned would stay up on guard until twelve o'clock and that bob and the professor would take the rest of the night. whichever party saw the hermit was at once to notify the other. jerry and ned began their vigil. several hours passed and it seemed they were to have their trouble for their pains. at length, however, just as they were preparing to turn in and let the others take their turn, jerry saw a movement in the bushes about five hundred feet away, and down near the edge of the lake. the moon, shining faintly through the clouds, illuminated the scene. "be ready to turn on the light when i say so," said jerry to ned. ned was all alert. jerry, with his eyes straining to catch the slightest movement of the underbrush, peered through the darkness. something white attracted him. "now!" he whispered to ned, and the light, that had been burning low, was suddenly turned on at full power. in its glare the two boys saw again the white haired hermit stealing along the edge of the water, the big bag on his back. "call the others!" whispered jerry to ned. "i'll keep watch!" "all right." ned softly went back to the shack where he awakened the professor and bob. they were out in an instant, and made ready to go quietly down as close as they could to where the hermit was, while jerry showed the way by the searchlight. but again they were doomed to disappointment, for, no sooner had jerry turned the light so that it shown full on the old man, than he jumped as though struck by lightning and made a dive for the woods, into the black depths of which he disappeared. "i guess that's the last we'll see of him," said ned. "he dropped his bag," cried bob. "let's get that and see what's in it." at this the professor and ned ran down to the edge of the water, and soon returned with the sack the old man had carried on his back. "open it and let's see if there are any murdered persons in it," said jerry, with an uneasy laugh. ned untied the string, and, not without some misgivings, peered inside. "well i never," he exclaimed. "what is it?" asked bob. "fish! nothing but fish!" replied ned. "fine ones at that. i guess all we have done is to have scared the poor old man away from his fishing grounds." "certainly there is nothing suspicious in having a bag of fish," put in the professor. "i wonder if that strange woman could have been telling the truth." "we'll know better if she keeps her word and comes to take us to the hermit's den," said jerry. there seemed nothing more to do that night, so they all went to bed, not being disturbed until morning. they were awakened by the sun peeping in through the chinks in the shack, and they got up to find a fine day had succeeded the rainy one. the beams of old sol were bright and warm, and the first thing the travelers did was to go down and have a dip in the lake. then breakfast was served, and when it was over jerry and ned started to overhaul the machine. "for," said jerry, "we may want to leave at any time, and the car is in none too good condition since we plowed up the side of the mountain." several minor repairs were made and the auto was run down to the main road, where it stood in readiness for a quick start. it was some time after dinner before all this was done, and along about three o'clock the four travelers stretched out under the trees and took a well earned rest. "now if that strange woman would--" began ned. "hush!" cautioned the professor, "some one is coming." hardly had he ceased speaking before the bushes opened and there appeared the figure of the queer woman, with her long hair hanging loose down her back. "hush!" she whispered, placing her finger on her lips. "i have come to keep my promise. the hermit has gone over the mountain. come, and i will take you to his hut, and you can see where he has murdered travelers." the boys hardly knew whether to obey or not, but a nod from professor snodgrass, to whom they looked, indicated they were to do as the woman wanted. so they arose and prepared to follow her. the professor brought up the rear. through the woods their strange guide went, for several miles. at length she reached a thick part of the woods. "it is very close now," she said. "wait until i take a look." the travelers halted, while the woman crept softly forward. she peered through the brush into a sort of clearing, and apparently seeing that everything was safe, she motioned for the others to advance. they did so, and, a moment later emerged from the woods into a place where many trees had been cut down. in the centre of this space was a small log cabin, and toward it the woman pointed. "there is his hut," she said. "come on, i will lead the way." she advanced with great caution, as though she feared to disturb some one. closer and closer to the door she went, the others close behind her. "he never locks it, so we can go right in," she said. by this time she was near enough to grasp the latch. she raised it, and was about to enter, when the door suddenly swung back, and the old hermit himself, stepping out, stood before the astonished travelers. "there he is! there he is! there is the murderer!" cried the woman, pointing her finger at the hermit. the old man did not appear greatly surprised. he looked from the woman to the boys and the professor, and remarked: "to what am i indebted for the honor of this visit?" "i we,--er--that is--we--er--i--" began the professor, finding it was hard to tell the truth. "oh, it's poor old kate," went on the hermit. "she has probably been telling you some strange stories. will you not come into my cabin?" "don't go into the murderer's hut!" cried the woman, as she turned and fled back through the underbrush, leaving the travelers in a somewhat queer situation. chapter xxii a revelation the professor did not know what to do. he and the boys expected to find the hut deserted, but, through some cause, the woman had evidently made a mistake as to the absence of the hermit. nor did mr. snodgrass care to accept the invitation of the old man and enter the hut, not knowing what he might find there. "you must not mind what kate says," the hermit went on, seeing that his unexpected visitors hesitated. "she means well, but she exaggerates a little sometimes." the professor thought that a rather cool manner in which to reply to accusation of murder, but, he reflected, if the hermit was as bad as the woman made him out to be, he would naturally, be rather a bold sort of person. the boys, too, were somewhat embarrassed by their position. to come suddenly upon a man you expect to bind and hand over to the authorities as a criminal of the worst kind and then to find him calmly inviting you into his house, is something out of the ordinary. how much longer the travelers might have stood outside the hut, after the invitation to enter had been given, will always be a cause for speculation, because, the next instant something happened. the professor, who had been glancing from the aged hermit to the hut, and then back to the old man, suddenly uttered an exclamation, and made a dive for the door. "there he goes!" cried the scientist. "there is the one i've been looking for for nearly a month!" and, a second later, he had disappeared inside the cabin. "what's the matter? is some one after you?" asked the old man hastening in the footsteps of the scientist, while the boys trailed in behind. "what do you want?" "i have it! i have it!" called the professor's voice. "it's a beauty, and a rare one." "what does he mean?" asked the hermit, turning to the boys. "it's a pink-winged dragon fly," cried the professor, coming back at that point and hearing the question. he had penetrated to the farther side of the cabin. "i saw the insect on the cabin door," he went on, explaining to the old man. "then i saw it go in. i knew it would not stay long, so the only thing to do was to make a jump for it, without waiting to explain. i am very glad i got it, for it's worth at least seven dollars, and perhaps more. i must apologize for running into your cabin in that hasty manner," the scientist went on, turning to the old man. "i guess that was the best way of getting you into it," said the hermit with a smile, which, the boys admitted, was a very pleasant one for a murderer. "but now you are here, do not be in a hurry to get out again." "if you have no objections i will stay until i have put away this dragon-fly specimen in a case," said the professor, pulling out a small flat box in which he placed his precious specimens temporarily. "let me ask you to supper," went on the old man, seeming to the boys to be very eager to have them remain. "it is so seldom that i have company that i appreciate it very much. stay and have a meal with me." the boys and the professor hardly knew what answer to make. they did not want to stay, yet did not care to offend by saying no. "i'm afraid we might inconvenience you," began mr. snodgrass. "you know what it is when company comes unexpectedly, and the larder is empty." "have no fears on that score," replied the old man with a short laugh. "i have plenty for all of us," and throwing open a cupboard he showed it well stocked with many victuals. as no other excuse offered, the travelers could do nothing else but agree to stay, though bob said afterwards that he kept his hand on his revolver, in his outside coat pocket, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. so, in a little while, supper was being prepared by the hermit, who seemed to be quite an expert cook. as he busied himself about the stove the boys had time to glance over the cabin. the first thing that impressed them was that the place was well planned for defense. it was built somewhat like the old block houses the early settlers constructed, with the upper story projecting over the first, so that the indians who besieged the place, could be attacked from above. then the lads noted that the sides were pierced with small loop holes, while on the walls were several rifles, and belts full of cartridges. "one might think that you were in an enemy's country," observed mr. snodgrass to the hermit, as he took note of the means of defense. "i have to be on guard," responded the hermit, quickly. "my life is not safe a moment. i do not know what minute i may be attacked. i am surrounded by spies on every hand." "it is a wonder that you let us in then," said jerry. "how do you know that we will not betray you?" "i am too good a reader of human character as shown in the face to fear anything like that," the old man went on. "i can trust you; i know i can." "who are you in danger from?" asked the professor, wondering what sort of story the hermit could tell. "all kinds of bad men," was the answer. "they had me in their power once, but i got away. i came here because it was a place well hidden from general observation. i have lived here several years, and you are the first persons beside poor kate, that i have been friendly with in that time." "then why do you keep ready to repel an enemy if none has molested you in that period?" asked mr. snodgrass. "because there is no telling when the men will attack me," replied the old man. "there are several who would like to get control of me, but i think i can prevent it. i will never let them get me into their power again, as long as i have a shot in the gun." supper was ready by this time, and the travelers, not very much reassured by the talk of the strange old hermit sat down to the rude table. the food, contrary to their expectation, proved very good. when the meal was over the hermit began to question the travelers about their journey and asked why they came to the lake, which, he said, was seldom if ever visited. they told him how they had unexpectedly found the sheet of water. "that generally is the way in this world," said the old man. "if you look for a thing you never find it, but if you do not, sometimes it comes to you in the most unexpected manner. i have sought something for many years, but i have not found it, and my heart will break if i do not succeed soon." "what is it you are looking for?" asked ned, softly, as he saw the hermit was affected. "i can not tell you now," was the answer. "later i may, and perhaps you can help me in the quest." "we would be glad to," said the professor. "but i think we must be going now. it is getting late and we must get back to the automobile. besides, i am afraid we will have trouble finding our way through the woods." "have no fear," said the hermit. "i will call kate and she will take you back, just as she brought you here." "but i thought she was--" began uriah snodgrass. "that is only a notion of hers, that i am a murderer," spoke the hermit, with a smile. "kate pretends to be very much afraid of me, but she will come to me when i call her. probably you are wondering who i am, and why i live out in these lonely woods. if you care to i will tell you my story briefly." they all said they would be glad to listen, so the hermit began by saying, for reasons of his own, that he would not tell his name. "i do not want it to be known who i am," he said. "but, as i said, i was once in the power of a number of bad men. i used to be a prospector, and made considerable at it, until trouble came. then i came to this lonesome place. i had heard the legend of lost lake, and the gold supposed to be on its shores, but i never expected to find this body of water. however, i did come across it, though i never have found any gold. i have been here ever since, and that is about three years. i manage to hunt and fish, and so get enough to live on. occasionally i go to the nearest village, and sell a few articles i make out of wood, and so get a little money." "i should think you would be very lonesome at times," said bob. "i am glad to be alone when i think of all i suffered from those men," was the reply. "would you mind telling us about the woman?" asked mr. snodgrass. "she seems a queer creature." "she is," answered the hermit. "she is harmless enough, except when aroused, and her great trouble is in thinking that i am a murderer." "what makes her think such a thing?" asked jerry. "because she is slightly crazy," said the hermit. "she was in these woods when i came here, and, in time we grew to be good friends. it seems that years ago her whole family was killed by the indians, she alone escaping. it turned her brain, and ever since then, she imagines that nearly all men are murderers. i wonder she has not accused you of the crime," and the hermit smiled a little. "she certainly acted queer," admitted the professor, "but i thought it was because she took you to be--er--" "oh, i don't mind having you refer to it," put in the old man. "she often accuses me of the crime to my face. i humor her, and admit sometimes that i am a desperate criminal, and that i am going to give myself up to the authorities. it sort of calms her down." "what did you mean by saying that she would come whenever you called her?" asked jerry. "is she near by?" "she stays in a little cabin i built for her, not far off," replied the hermit. "when i want her to go on an errand for me, for she is very swift and reliable, i merely blow this horn," and he showed a big conch hanging on the wall. "i will call her to show you the way back to your camp when you are ready." the professor and the boys thought it was about time to leave. they promised the hermit they would come and see him again, and then the old man, taking down the horn, unbarred the door, and, stepping out blew three shrill blasts that reverberated through the woods. it was just getting dusk, and the echoes, ringing back from the distant hills, sounded weird in the gathering darkness. for a few seconds no answer came, then, from far off in the woods sounded a faint cry. "here she comes," said the hermit. "she will take you the shortest way." in a little while the crackling of the brush could be heard, and, a few seconds later kate appeared. she did not seem surprised not to find the travelers all murdered. "will you show them the way back to camp?" asked the old man. "yes," said kate, simply. "follow me," she added, turning to the boys and the professor. they started off after the strange woman, and, at that instant the old hermit uttered an exclamation. "some one is coming!" he cried. "it may be some of my enemies!" a moment later he turned and fled into the dark woods! chapter xxiii searching for the hermit "let's go to his help!" exclaimed bob. "come on!" cried ned. "you had better not," said the woman, in a calm voice. "it is probably only the police after him for the many murders he has committed, and we had better not interfere. besides if you want me to take you to your camp you had better come, as i have my house work to do before sunrise." she started to lead the way, and, though the boys felt inclined to follow and see what became of the hermit, they concluded it would be better to go back to camp. kate seemed to have lost much of her excited manner as she led them through the woods, over a scarcely discernible path. neither the fast gathering darkness nor the maze of trees seemed to confuse her. she made better progress than did the boys or the professor, as they were not familiar with the ground. "well of all the queer adventures we've had," remarked ned to jerry, who had lagged somewhat in the rear with him, "this is the worst. think of going to capture a murderer and then being led home by an insane woman! i wonder what will come next?" the journey to camp took some time, as the path was hard for the boys and professor to follow, and several times kate had to wait for them to catch up to her. at last, however, she brought them out near the little open place where the auto stood, and the boys breathed a sigh of relief. "our car is safe, anyhow," said jerry. "now for some sleep." "ain't we going to have something to eat first?" demanded bob in an aggrieved tone. the others laughed at chunky's sorrowful voice. "we'll see," said jerry. "perhaps you would like a cup of chocolate," he went on, turning to kate. "no, thank you," she said. "i must not stay here. i want to see if they have captured the murderer, so i will go back," and, turning suddenly, she returned over the path they had come, her footsteps growing fainter and fainter. "come on, let's make the chocolate," said bob, when kate had gone. jerry soon had the beverage in preparation, and they all enjoyed it. then they fixed up the beds in the shack, and soon were slumbering, too tired even to post a guard, though, as events proved, there was no need for one. "well," remarked jerry, after breakfast had been eaten, "i suppose we may as well push on for arizona. no use staying here since the mystery is solved." "i don't believe it is solved," spoke professor snodgrass, suddenly. "i'm not altogether satisfied about that hermit." "you don't think he's a murderer, do you?" asked ned. "no, but there is something odd about him. i can not get over the feeling that i have met him before, or some relative of his. yet i can not recall it clearly. he has certain queer little actions that remind me of some one. i would like to see him again." "if you want to, i think i could find our way back to the cabin in the day time," spoke ned. "i took pretty good notice of the trail when we went over." "i wish you could," said the professor, eagerly. "i want to have a talk with that old man. besides, i think i can get some more specimens at his hut. i saw a fine lizard around the door step in the afternoon." so it was decided they would pay another visit to the hermit's cabin. accordingly they started off after dinner, and, led by ned, followed the trail. they went astray several times, and had to search about for the path, but finally they came to the place where kate had halted them the day before to go forward and peer at the hut. "shall we go right on now?" asked ned, pausing to see what the rest wanted to do. "the cabin is just ahead." "go on," said mr. snodgrass. they came out into the little glade, in which the cabin stood. as they emerged from the woods they saw kate standing in front of the hut, crying. "what is the matter?" asked the professor. "they have taken the poor old man away and killed him!" sobbed the woman. "it's another of her imaginations," said ned, softly. "probably the hermit is inside." but when they looked he was not to be seen, and his bed showed that it had not been slept in that night. "will you help me hunt for him?" asked kate. "certainly we will," answered the professor. "then follow me!" exclaimed the woman, striding off into the woods. she led the way, explaining in disjointed sentences, yet so that she could be understood, that the old man frequently imagined some one was after him. at such times he would go to one or another of his hiding places, of which he had a number in the different parts of the woods. but this time he was not to be found easily. place after place, including caves and deep ravines, were visited by the searchers, but there was no sign of the hermit. "i am sure he has been killed," said kate in a sorrowful tone. "and he was the kindest man that ever lived." "i thought you said he was a murderer," spoke the professor, wondering in what strange channels the woman's mind ran. "so he is!" exclaimed kate, "but he is a good murderer, and not one of the bad kind." "poor woman," sighed mr. snodgrass. "her mind is hopelessly gone." kate started off in a different direction, and the boys and the professor followed her. she went at a rapid pace, and soon the travelers were aware that they were going up hill. the trail became more steep as they advanced, until they were panting from their exertions. yet the crazy woman did not seem to become exhausted by the hard pace in the least. "there is the hill!" she exclaimed at last, pointing upward, and the boys saw ahead of them a big half round mound, at the very summit of which was an immense tree. "he sometimes stays in that tree," spoke kate, as they neared the big forest giant. "in the tree? i presume you mean he has a sort of platform built among the branches," said the professor. "a number of indian tribes live that way." "he lives right inside the tree what little time he does live up here," replied kate. "the trunk is hollow, and he crawls into it, and hides until all danger is past. we will soon see if he is there." an examination of the hollow trunk, however, showed that the hermit was not within, nor did the place disclose any signs of his having been there recently. kate showed the despair she felt and the professor and the boys could not help feeling disappointed. for a while they stood beneath the spreading branches, wondering what would be best to do. all at once the professor, who had been intently gazing up into the leafy branches, gave utterance to an exclamation. "there it is!" he cried. "a regular beauty! i must secure that if i never get another. keep quiet, every one." "it's another specimen," said jerry. "can't you forget them for once, professor?" "this seems to be a sloth or an ant-bear," replied the scientist, as he made preparations to climb the tree. "it has long white whiskers, a black body and no tail. wait until i crawl up and get it." "never mind coming up, i'm coming down," spoke a voice, seeming to come from the animal, the capture of which the professor was intent upon. "bless my soul, it's a combined sloth and parrot!" exclaimed the professor. "that is a rare animal-bird. i must secure it at all hazards. help me, boys." but there was no need for help, as, the next instant, two dangling legs descended from the lower branches of the tree, to be followed, a little later by a body, and then came a mass of white hair and whiskers. "it's the old hermit!" cried bob. "yes! it's him! it's him!" cried kate. "he is safe! we have found him." "be quiet!" cautioned the old man, when he had reached the ground. "there may be spies all around, though i think i have escaped them for the time being." "how did you get here?" asked kate. "i ran as soon as i heard the noise of men coming after me," replied the aged man. "but i did not dare get into the hollow trunk, for fear of being seen. so i just crawled up into the branches, and there i'd be yet if the professor had not mistaken me for a specimen." "you can come down in safety," said mr. snodgrass, "as there seems to be no one in the neighborhood but ourselves." "that's good," was the rejoinder, "but there is no telling when some one may come. i think i will go back to my own cabin." the hermit started off with kate, the others following. he had not proceeded far when he uttered an exclamation: "there is one of them!" at the same instant a roughly dressed man appeared in the narrow path, as if by magic. at sight of him the hermit turned and fled back into the woods. chapter xxiv the hermit's identity "catch him! i want him! bring him back!" exclaimed the stranger as he saw the hermit disappearing into the depths of the forest. "what do you want of him?" asked the professor, not liking the man's looks. "what's that your business?" inquired the stranger. "trot along now, and don't bother me." "i'll do nothing of the kind," retorted mr. snodgrass. "that old man is a friend of ours, and we'll see that no harm comes to him." "well, i'm going to catch him," replied the rough looking man, "so stand aside." he made as if to go in pursuit of the hermit, but kate, with flashing eyes and defiant gestures, stood in front of the stranger. "you let him alone!" she exclaimed. "if you go after him i'll scratch your eyes out!" and she looked fierce and strong enough to put her threat into execution as she stood her ground. "mind," she went on, "don't you dare to stir a step after him!" "so that's the way the land lays, eh?" sneered the fellow. "well, we'll see about that." putting his finger to his lips he blew a shrill whistle. hardly had the echo died away than two more men, more roughly dressed, if possible, than the first man, made their appearance from behind bushes where they had evidently been hiding. "i've found him," said the first man to his companions. "now these people want to interfere." "knock 'em out of the way," growled one of the late comers. "look here!" began jerry who was beginning to get angry. "if there's any knocking to be done i guess we can do our share." "when did you leave home?" asked the first man, with a sneer. "look out, young tenderfoot, how you mix up in this matter." "what right have you to follow this old man?" asked the professor, for he began to believe the strangers to be some of the enemies of which the hermit had been fearful. "that's none of your affair," was the answer. "we want that man and we're going to have him. he got away from us once, and we're going to take care it does not happen again. come on, boys. let's trail after the old chap. he can't have gone very far." the three turned and were about to take after the hermit when kate, who had stepped aside, made a sudden spring, and confronted the leader of the three men. "don't you dare go after that poor old man!" she cried. "there! take that!" and before the man could raise his hand in defense kate gave him a forceful push. it was followed by a curious happening. the three men were standing on the very edge of the knoll, upon the summit of which was the tree where the hermit had been hiding. so steep was the descent that when kate shoved the man he toppled over backward. right behind him were the other two men, and falling against them, their leader bowled them down like the remaining pins in a game of skittles. all three of them went slipping, sprawling, tumbling head over heels down the steep slope, vainly trying to dig their hands into the earth and so save themselves. "there!" exclaimed the woman, as she saw the men roll down. "i guess they will not defy me again in a hurry!" "i don't believe they will," observed the professor drily. in fact the men seemed to have had enough of kate for, having rolled to the bottom of the hill, where they arrived somewhat the worse for wear, they got up, but made no attempt to return. instead they shuffled off through the woods, contenting themselves with shaking their fists at the party on top of the hill. "what had we better do now?" asked ned. "go back to our camp," spoke jerry. "i think perhaps we had," counseled the professor. "i thought the poor old hermit was merely wandering in his mind when he talked about men being after him, but, it seems he was right. now that we have had an encounter with these men, and incurred their hate, it would be best if we did not leave our automobile unguarded. there is no telling what will happen in the next few hours." "what can we do to save the hermit?" asked bob. "nothing right away, i fear," replied mr. snodgrass. "we could not find him in the night, for it will soon be dark, and i think he can look after himself better than we can, for the present." "i think so too," put in kate, who seemed to have calmed down after her attack on the men. "we will go back to your camp, and take up the search to-morrow." it was getting dusk now, and the travelers made the best speed they could, following kate's guidance, back to their shack near the lake. they found the camp undisturbed and soon were preparing a supper, which the woman shared. then she bade them good night, and promised to come in the morning. "i guess we had better post a guard to-night," said jerry, as he and the others were thinking of turning in. "there may be a lot of those men after the hermit, and they will not feel any too friendly toward us for what we have done. what do you say, professor?" uriah snodgrass thought the scheme a good one, and, lots having been drawn, the first watch fell to ned. he got out his rifle, and, having provided a quantity of wood for the fire, and making the search-light ready so it could be set going quickly, he prepared to spend part of the night on guard. it was rather lonesome, especially as the others soon fell asleep, as was evidenced by their heavy breathing and an occasional snore. but ned knew that perhaps the lives of his comrades might depend on his vigilance, so he fought against the feeling of dread, as well as the inclination to sleep, for he was very tired. as the night wore on a stronger feeling of dread took possession of the lad. he started at every sound, and the bark of a fox, the howl of a distant wolf, and even the hooting of an owl was enough to make him jump. he was very glad, therefore, when his trick was up and jerry took his place. "did you see or hear anything?" asked jerry. "nary a thing except the wild animals," replied ned. "there's a regular menagerie around here, by the sound in the woods." for several hours jerry remained on guard. he was wide awake, for the sleep earlier in the evening had rested him considerably. part of the time he sat on a log near the fire, and again, he would get up and pace back and forth looking around anxiously. jerry replenished the fire and then, feeling somewhat chilly, began to walk rapidly up and down, pacing about ten feet in either direction from the blaze. once, when he had gone a little further, and stood near a big elm tree he fancied he heard a noise among the branches. glancing up he was startled by hearing some one utter: "hist! hist!" "who's--who's there?" faltered jerry, for he was taken by surprise. "sh! not so loud! have they gone?" asked a voice. "who?" asked the lad, wondering who was speaking. "the men who were after me?" was the reply, and then jerry recognized the hermit's voice. "yes, they have gone. come down, you are safe now," said jerry. there was a scrambling among the branches and soon the white-haired old man stood on the ground beside the boy. his clothing was torn, and his beard was matted with briers and brambles. his face and hands were cut, and he bore the appearance of having raced through the thick underbrush. "i had a hard time escaping them," said the hermit. "have you any water? i have not had a drink in several hours, and my throat is parched." jerry ran to the water pail to get the hermit a drink. the noise he made aroused the others. "what is it? are they attacking us?" asked mr. snodgrass. "no, the hermit has come back," replied jerry. "he was hiding up in a tree." the professor hurried out of the shack, and joined the old man, who seemed very glad to get back among his new friends. he said he had been wandering around ever since he ran away when the stranger appeared, and, at last, had determined to try and find the boys' camp. "now you are here we will take good care of you, mr.--er--mr.--" stammered the professor, forgetting that the hermit had refused to disclose his identity. the old man noticed the hesitating tones. "there is no reason why i should keep my name a secret from you any longer," he said. "you probably never heard of me, and never will again. i only desire to remain hidden from my enemies, and i think you are my friends." "what is your name?" asked the professor. "jackson bell," was the reply. "i am an old gold miner." "jackson bell," repeated jerry, wondering if he had heard aright. "jackson bell," repeated the professor. "where have i heard that name before?" "why you must be tommy bell's father," exclaimed ned. "what's that!" fairly shouted the hermit. "do you know tommy bell? have you seen my dear son? tell me quickly! do not keep a poor old man in suspense," and he seemed greatly agitated. "i thought i had seen some relative of his somewhere," said the professor. chapter xxv attacked by the enemy "are you sure the boy we have in mind is your son?" asked mr. snodgrass. "we do not want to raise false hopes. perhaps you may be mistaken." "something tells me i can not be mistaken," exclaimed the hermit. "tommy bell is not a common name. besides, i can describe my son, and then you will know whether he is the one you know," and he rapidly gave a short description of tommy. "that's him all right," said jerry, and the others agreed that the lad they had rescued from the hands of the rough men was, indeed, the son of the hermit. "and i thought him dead," said the old man. "after i had been abused by the wicked gang that got me in their control i lost sight of poor tommy. as soon as i could i made a search for him, but it was of no use." "tommy thought you had wandered away from him," said ned. "he told us his story after we had rescued him." "then you saved his life, just as you have mine," broke in mr. bell. "i have much to thank you for. but first i must find my son. where did you leave him?" "at a place called las cruces," replied the professor. thereupon he told briefly how they had taken tommy from the hands of the lawless gang and left him with a friend. "i must go to him at once," exclaimed the old man. "i can hardly wait to start. to think that the boy i thought was dead is alive! and i suppose he thinks i am dead also," mr. bell went on. "he was going to search for you," replied bob, "but he did not know where to start. we can send him word now." "i'll take him word myself!" cried mr. bell. "i'll start as soon as it is daylight." "then you had better get some rest and sleep now," observed mr. snodgrass. "come into the shack, and we will make you some hot coffee." the hermit begged them to go to no trouble on his account, but they insisted, and soon the coffee was boiling on the coals of the camp fire. "i'm too excited to sleep," remarked mr. bell, as he went inside the rough shelter to lie down. and so it would seem, for, every few minutes he would rouse up from his position, and ask some particular about his son. he appeared scarcely able to believe the good news. at length, however, he grew weary, and along toward morning fell into a doze. the others were so tired and sleepy from being awake the night before that they slumbered late, and the sun was quite high when jerry roused himself, and sat up, wondering what day it was. he got up, took a plunge in the lake, and came back to start breakfast, finding that, in the meanwhile, the others in the camp, including mr. bell, had arisen. "now to start and find my son," cried the hermit. "you had better have something to eat first," suggested mr. snodgrass. "then perhaps we can think of some plan to aid you." though impatient to be gone the old man consented to remain to breakfast. he did not eat much, however, and seemed ready any minute to start on the long search for tommy. "how would it be if we took you to the nearest town in our automobile," suggested the professor, when the meal was over. "from there you can get conveyances and reach las cruces in a short time. if you need any money--" "thank you, i think i have enough for the present," interrupted mr. bell. "i do not need much. when i find tommy i will bring him back with me, and we will be together once more. it seems too good to be true!" "what will become of kate in the meanwhile?" asked mr. snodgrass. "though she has queer ideas concerning you i think she is your friend. will she be able to live in these woods all alone?" "kate is able to take care of herself," was the reply. "she was in these woods before i came and she may be here after i am gone. but i will tell her where i am going, and that i expect to return." a trip was made to the hermit's hut, and, after several blasts had been blown on the conch horn, kate appeared. she was overjoyed to see the aged man again, and was told of the latest developments. "you had better hurry up then, and get away from these woods," said the woman. "why so?" asked jerry. "because there are a number of strange men lurking about," was the answer. "i think they are after this good old man. so be on your guard." "it is the same crowd," said mr. bell. "they hate to give me up." "what do they want of you?" asked jerry. "you said you might tell us the secret some day, adding that perhaps we could help you. maybe we can help you now." "you can help me, and you have helped me," said mr. bell. "i can tell you the rest of my story now. as i said i have long been in quest of some one. that some one is my son tommy. i did not want to tell you of him before, as i was afraid the news would get out. nor did i tell you why the gang wanted me in their power. it is because i hold the final title to a piece of valuable property, and they can not get possession of it until i sign off, which i refused to do!" "why so?" asked mr. snodgrass. "because i understand the property is now claimed by persons who, if not in the eyes of the law, are, still the rightful owners. if i should sign my rights away to the gang they would take the property away from the innocent holders now. so i refused to sign, and they have ruined me for it." "never mind," said the professor, cheerfully. "we will get you out of their power, never fear." "i wonder if the gang that had tommy is not the same one that had mr. bell in their power," suggested bob. "he told us about men wanting him to sign papers that would give them control of some land." "they must be the same," commented mr. bell. "i will be on my guard now. neither tommy nor i will sign a single document. but now i must start." "very well," said ned. there was no further cause for delay, so jerry got the automobile ready, and, the various belongings having been stowed away, the engine was started, after a somewhat longer rest than usual, and, puffing away in a manner that awoke all the echoes of the forest, the car started toward the village at the foot of the slope. from there, it was arranged mr. bell would go forward to las cruces by stage coach, or whatever other means of travel presented themselves. once fairly on the road the spirits of all in the party rose. it was a fine day, and the fresh mountain air, crisp and cool, put new life into their veins. they were bowling along the road at a good clip with jerry at the wheel, when, suddenly in the air above their heads, there sounded a shrill buzz. "that's a new kind of a bumble bee," cried uriah snodgrass. "i must have it for my collection." "i guess you wouldn't want many of that kind," said mr. bell, quietly. "why not? i like all kinds." "that was a lead one," went on the old man. "you mean a bullet?" asked bob. "is some one firing at us?" "i'm afraid so," answered the hermit. then came a distant report, followed by the peculiar buzzing sound. "speed her up!" cried bob to jerry. "let's get out of this danger zone. it's too much like being on the firing line to suit me." the auto, all this while was speeding along, and, soon, the shooters, whoever they were, had been left far in the rear. the sound of the bullets was no longer heard. "the reason they are doing it," answered mr. bell, "is that they want to get me alive. if i was to be killed their last chance of getting me to sign the papers would be gone." "but there is your son, tommy," said jerry. "he told us they wanted him to sign. if you were dead, he would be your heir, and his signature would be legal when he became of age. perhaps the men could make use of it even before then." "i see! i see!" exclaimed mr. bell. "it is important then that i live so i can beat them at their own game." "unless you don't care about living on your own account or that of your son's," said the professor, grimly. they kept on steady after this and at last reached the bottom of the mountain slope. "now for the village," exclaimed mr. bell. "i shall soon see my boy!" faster and faster went the auto. the traveling was good, and jerry speeded the car to the last notch. about six o'clock they rolled into town, to the surprise of many of the inhabitants, who had never seen one of the puffing, snorting things, though they had read of them. a knot of curious persons gathered around the machine as jerry brought it to a stop in front of the post-office. several boys began to inspect every part. the travelers were about to alight when a shrill voice cried out. "hey, jerry! and bob! and ned! hey there! oh, how glad i am to see you!" for a moment the motor boys did not recognize the voice. then ned saw a lad trying to break through the crowd. "it's tommy! it's tommy bell!" exclaimed ned. "hey, tommy! you can't guess who we have with us!" "tommy bell! did you say tommy bell!" exclaimed the hermit. "where is he? let me see him!" but tommy had heard his parent's voice, and the next instant the boy had made a flying leap into the car, and was clasped in his father's arms. [illustration: the next instant the boy had made a flying leap into the car.] chapter xxvi on the road again "where in the world did you come from?" asked jerry of tommy. "how did you get here?" inquired ned. "how did you know where to find us?" bob wanted to know. but to all these questions tommy turned a deaf ear. he was so overjoyed at seeing his father, and the hermit was so excited at seeing his son once more, that neither had eyes nor ears for anything or any one except the other. the crowd looked on curiously, the interest divided between the automobile and the meeting between father and son. finally, when mr. bell and tommy had, temporarily, exhausted the theme of telling each other how glad they were at being united, the boys had a chance to get a word in edgeways, and tommy answered a few of their questions. he told them that he had remained for several days with his friend in las cruces, and how a traveling miner had, in a general conversation, mentioned the lake and told of the queer hermit that lived on the shores. something in the description of this odd character impressed tommy with the belief that the hermit might be his father, who had taken that method to escape the gang which wanted him to sign away his rights. accordingly, the boy had started from las cruces and made his way to deighton, the town where mr. bell expected to start in search of his son. "i got here this morning," said tommy, "and i found a little work to do to earn some money. i was going to start up the mountain to-morrow and try and find the lake." "now you don't have to," said mr. bell. "well, it certainly is a queer world." the travelers spent the night at the deighton hotel, and, in the morning, after a good breakfast, assembled to talk over their plans for the future. "do you intend to go back to lost lake, mr. bell?" asked the professor. "if you do, you and your son can ride that far in the automobile, since we are going back in that direction." "where are you going after you leave lost lake?" asked mr. bell. "to arizona," answered jerry. "we have a mine there, and we must go to see how things are getting on." "that's rather odd," commented the hermit. "i have an interest in some mining property in arizona, though i don't suppose it is anywhere near yours. but i have made up my mind not to go back to lost lake, except to bring away a few things that i left in the cabin. i would also like to provide for poor kate. after that i think tommy and i will go to arizona and try our fortunes over again." "then why not go with us?" spoke jerry. "we have plenty of room in the machine, and we'd be glad of your company." "i would like to very much," said mr. bell, "if i thought i would not bother you." he was assured that he would be very welcome, and then he consented to go. a new stock of provisions was purchased, together with some ammunition and some other supplies for the auto. then, amid the cheers of more than half the populace of deighton, the travelers began their journey toward lost lake again. mr. bell had made arrangements with a family in the town to take charge of kate whom he promised to send to them, for he knew he could depend on the woman to obey him and make the journey alone. lost lake was reached on the second day, for the travelers were delayed by a landslide, and had to camp out one night. they found the camp and the hermit's hut undisturbed. "i guess none of the gang has been around lately," remarked jerry. "i hope we have seen the last of them," put in mr. bell. "they certainly caused enough trouble." a few blasts on the horn brought kate, and the poor demented woman was overjoyed to see her friends again. she made much of tommy, who, she said, looked enough like his father to be recognized on the darkest night. at first the crazy woman objected to being sent to deighton, but mr. bell knew how to reason with her, and after some argument, she consented to go. she started away on the second morning, and, as the travelers learned later, eventually reached the family that had consented to care for her. under skillful medical treatment kate partly recovered her reason, and continued to live in deighton for many years. "now," remarked the professor, when they had seen kate started off on her journey, "i suppose it is time for us to move. so let's get started toward our mine, for i'm sure nestor must be quite anxious to see us." "onward it is, then!" exclaimed ned. "all aboard, and may we have a safe trip!" with ned at the steering wheel the auto was started off. the way was rather rougher than any they had yet traveled over, and for some distance the ascent was steep. but with a new set of batteries and spark plugs, and with everything on the car well adjusted, matters went along smoothly, though no very great speed could be attained. mile after mile was covered, the auto mounting higher and higher amid the mountains. there were no signs of human habitation, not even a deserted miner's hut being passed the first two days of the trip. of course there was no shelter to be had, and nights were spent in the open. but as the weather was mild, and as it did not rain, this was considered more a pleasure than a hardship. the third day they began to see signs that told them they were approaching a town. now and then cabins and huts would be passed, mostly the lonely homes of solitary miners, who were prospecting for gold. sometimes they would pass quite good sized camps, and about noon of the fourth day they were invited to come in and have a meal, which they were glad to do. the miners told them the nearest town was sleighton, seventy-five miles away, and that it was the centre of activity for a large area of country round about. "and i wouldn't advise you folks to speed that there machine of yours when you strike the village," said one of the miners. "why not?" asked jerry. "because the marshal is very strict, and he ain't got no very great hankerin' fer choo-choo wagons." "we'll look out," promised jerry. "we are in too much of a hurry to want any delays." "i wonder if we'll hear anything more of that gang," said ned as they rode away from the mining camp. "it seems queer that they would drop the thing when they seemed so anxious to capture mr. bell." "we'll hear of them again, and in a way we won't like, i'm afraid," said the former hermit. "we'll have to be on the lookout." chapter xxvii trouble at the mine several days' travel brought the party over the line into arizona. they passed through a small village one noon, and, on inquiring their where-abouts were told that they were well within the borders of the state where their gold mine was located. it began to rain shortly after this, and their trip was rather unpleasant, but, well wrapped up in rubber coats, they managed to keep fairly dry. as for the auto it did not seem to mind what kind of weather it was. they camped that night under a clump of pine trees which served as a partial shelter, and it was so wet that no fire could be built. jerry resorted to the stove made from one of the search-lights, and made some hot chocolate that warmed them all up. the next day dawned clear, however, and with a better feeling the travelers took up their journey again. the way was becoming familiar to them, and they recognized many landmarks they had observed in their great race across the continent to secure the gold mine before noddy nixon and his crowd could win the claim, as told in detail in "the motor boys overland." that night they stayed in the town where the government assay office was located and to reach which there had been such an exciting brush between the two automobiles, the one run by noddy, and that run by the motor boys. they saw several men whom they knew slightly, and who appeared much surprised to see them again. "well, well, well, where in the world did you come from?" asked the proprietor of the hotel, as the auto drew up in front of his place. he had been quite friendly with the boys while they stayed at the mine, and had sold them many supplies. "we've been down to mexico for a change of air," said jerry. "i suppose it didn't agree with you, or you wouldn't be coming back so soon," went on the proprietor. "well, we thought our mine needed looking after," jerry remarked. "looking after? i should say it did," the proprietor continued. "jim nestor was here the other day and he said if you didn't come back pretty soon and do something, there wouldn't be any mine." "is that right?" asked ned, thinking the man might be trying to scare them for a joke. "straight as a string," was the answer. "it seems that the title to the place is in doubt." "i know, nestor wrote us about that," put in jerry. "but he is still in possession, isn't he?" "can't say," replied the hotel man. "he was very anxious the last time i saw him, and that was a week ago. if i was you i'd look after it the first thing in the morning." "we will," said jerry. "i wonder if the government office is closed." "long ago," said the proprietor of the inn. "why?" "i was thinking i could go there and find out what sort of claim there was against our property," answered the boy. "you'll have to wait until ten o'clock to-morrow morning," went on the man. "they've got a new official in charge and he takes more time off than he puts in. some one ought to write to the president about it. there's lots of kicks about the way he acts." neither the boys nor the professor did much sleeping that night, because of worry over the mine tangle. they made an early breakfast and then started for their claim, which they expected to reach in about two hours unless something unexpected occurs. the way was familiar to them, and recalled many old memories of the exciting times they had in locating and proving their claim. they pointed out to mr. bell the various landmarks as they passed them, but the former hermit seemed to have fallen into a sort of stupor. his eyes had a vacant stare and he took no interest in what was being said. "i'm afraid he's going to be sick," said jerry to the professor. "he has hardly spoken since we came into arizona, and he used to be quite a talker." "i guess it is only the excitement wearing off," said mr. snodgrass. "he will be all right in a day or two. he has had a pretty hard life the last few weeks." tommy was worried about his father, and sat beside him, holding his hand, now and then looking up into his face, as if he feared to lose his parent again. as they neared the mine mr. bell seemed to become more dazed. yet he appeared to be struggling to recall something that he had once known and forgotten. suddenly he stood up in the automobile, as the car passed a deserted and tumbled down hut and exclaimed: "see! there it is! there is the place!" "what place, father? what do you mean?" asked tommy. but mr. bell sat down again, and seemed to have forgotten that he had spoken. the professor could note, however, that there was a struggle going on in the old man's mind. "i hope he does not become raving mad, yet it looks bad for him," the professor thought to himself. "ten minutes more and we'll be there!" exclaimed jerry, crowding on a little more speed. "i do hope nestor is having no trouble." they were in the midst of a wild mountainous country now. on either side of the road were great bowlders, while a little further back was scrub timber which extended for a mile or more before the deeper woods were reached. they were just rounding the last turn of the road to swing into the straight stretch that would take them to the mine when there sounded on the air the crack of a rifle. an instant later mr. bell gave a convulsive start and fell over in his seat. "they've killed him! they've shot him!" cried tommy, while jerry suddenly brought the machine to a stop. glancing across to the left a small curling cloud of smoke could be seen floating above a big stone. "there's where the shot came from," said ned. "is he badly hurt?" asked jerry of professor snodgrass, who was bending over mr. bell. "it is hard to say," was the answer. "the bullet struck him on the head, but there is so much blood i can't tell how bad the wound is. push on to the mine. perhaps nestor can help us." jerry started the machine again. it had attained a good speed when, from the side of the road came a hail. "motor boys, ahoy!" "there's nestor!" cried ned, pointing to a man who stood in front of a small shanty. "hello, nestor!" he called. "hello!" responded the miner, running down to the road. "well, i am certainly glad to see you." "quick, nestor!" exclaimed mr. snodgrass. "we have a wounded man here, and must get him to the shanty at the mine as soon as possible." "we can't do it," replied nestor. "why not?" "didn't you get my letter?" "only the one saying there might be a possibility of trouble." "well trouble came all right. i've been driven from the mine, and it's in possession of a bad gang. so we can't take the wounded man there." "what are we to do?" asked jerry, seeing that mr. bell was bleeding badly. "bring him into my cabin," said nestor. "i came here after the gang drove me out. i can put you up, i guess." jerry ran the car up close to the shanty and mr. bell, who was unconscious, was carried in and laid as tenderly as possible on the single bunk of which the place boasted. "now some warm water and clean clothes," said mr. snodgrass. "i must wash the wound and see how bad it is." "i haven't a bit of hot water," said nestor. "there's plenty in the radiator of the auto," spoke jerry. "give me a pail and i'll soon get some." he soon had a plentiful supply that was almost boiling, and, cooling it somewhat, the naturalist carefully washed the blood from the wounded man's head. then he examined the hurt. "will he die?" asked tommy, as he stood around, tearfully. "not this time," replied mr. snodgrass, cheerfully. "the bullet appears to have only grazed the scalp a bit, but it probably gave him a pretty hard knock. he'll soon come around right i guess." mr. bell was made as comfortable as possible, and, as there was nothing to do but wait until he became conscious, he was left in charge of his son. tommy was told to call as soon as his father showed signs of awakening, and then the others surrounded nestor, eager to hear about the mine. "i guess it's gone," said the old prospector. "as i wrote you, the title seems to have some flaw in it, and this gang, which came from somewheres to the southeast, found it out, and served papers on me. it appears that there is a man missing who holds the key to the situation, and who owns the majority of the mine, but he can't be found, and so our title is no good." the news depressed the spirits of all. they had been hoping that the trouble was small and temporary and that nestor would find a way out. now they stood to lose the mine they had struggled so hard to get. "did you resist their claim?" asked mr. snodgrass. "you bet i did," replied nestor. "i went to court over it, but the judge said though it was morally wrong to put me out, yet the others had the law on their side, and he had to decide against me. "i didn't give up even then, for i barricaded the place and defied 'em to get me out. but the sheriff came and said that was no way to do. he had the law with him, and he said it would be his duty to shoot me if i resisted. he advised going to a higher court, and so, rather than have any bloodshed i gave up, and decided to camp out here until you came. i've been here about two weeks now." "then the mine's gone," remarked jerry, sorrowfully. "we can try the courts," said nestor, hopefully. "it would take years to settle the case," put in mr. snodgrass. "no, i guess you are beaten, boys." "i will not give up yet," said jerry. "what are you going to do?" asked ned. "i'm going to town, hire the best lawyer i can get, and see what he says. there may be a way out of this yet." "that's the way to talk!" exclaimed bob. "i'm with you." jerry lost no time. he hurried to the auto, and with bob for company made the run to town in record time. he was directed to a lawyer's office, and, finding the attorney, who was a young chap, in, paid him a retainer and stated the case briefly. "i just want to know how we stand, what sort of a claim there is against our title, and what we can do to perfect it," said jerry. "it's quite a lot of information to get at in a hurry," said the lawyer, "but i'll do my best. i'll be ready for you at four o'clock this afternoon." "i'll call for you then," went on jerry, "and take you back to nestor's shanty, where you can explain the whole thing to us." then the boys, with a feeling of dread that their mine was gone forever, in spite of all they could do, went back to where the others were. chapter xxviii all's well that ends well they found mr. bell in much the same condition as before, though mr. snodgrass said the wounded man's breathing was a little easier, which was a good sign. "and what about the mine?" asked the naturalist. jerry told him the lawyer was coming. "i'm afraid it will be of little use," said the professor. "nestor says they had a big lawyer to represent the gang, and they also have a large force in charge of the mine, taking out gold." "and it's our gold," exclaimed jerry. "oh, why didn't we get back sooner?" "it wouldn't have done much good," spoke nestor. "i did all i could, but the law was on their side." "of course, i didn't mean that you failed," jerry hastened to add, for fear of hurting the old miner's feelings. "it's too bad, that's all." after a somewhat gloomy dinner, which the professor tried to liven up by telling jokes and funny stories, jerry oiled the machine, and, about two o'clock started back to town for the lawyer. he found the attorney waiting for him, with several big law books in a valise. "any luck?" asked jerry. "not a great deal," was the answer. "well, don't tell us until we are all together," went on jerry. "i don't want to stand it all alone." when, on arrival at nestor's cabin, the lawyer proceeded to tell what he had learned, there were six very attentive listeners. the attorney went over the ground carefully, and told the boys, nestor and professor snodgrass, much that they had already heard. how, because of a missing owner who held more than a half interest in the mine, the title was not good when the boys preëmpted it. in fact it was still the property of others, though about to lapse. "i don't understand all them legal terms," put in nestor, "but didn't we make a good claim to the government for that mine?" "you did, as far as it went," replied the lawyer. "uncle sam gave you a title, but did not guarantee that some one did not have a better one, which it seems is the case." "but that gang hasn't a good title either, not if the owner of over half the shares is missing," went on nestor. "no, but it seems, according to the records, that they have some sort of an agreement from this missing man that they are empowered to work the claim until he comes to demand his share." "if that's the case i'm for going up there and driving them out with a gun!" exclaimed nestor. "they haven't any more right than we have, and we can at least make them go shares with us until this missing man shows up. what's the matter with attacking them to-night." "if you're going to resort to lawless means i'll have to throw up the case," said the attorney. "that is no way to talk." "nestor doesn't mean it at all," put in jerry. "of course we will have no battle with that gang." "there are two ways we might proceed," the lawyer went on. "there may be more, but they are the only ones that suggest themselves to me from what time i was able to give to the case." "what would you advise?" asked mr. snodgrass. "you can apply to the courts for an injunction to prevent the working of the mine until the missing half-owner shows up." "but that would bar us as well as them," put in jerry. "yes, it would have that effect, if you secured the injunction, which is doubtful. it would be a long and costly litigation, i fear." "and what is the other plan?" "you might try to find the missing man, and buy him out, or make some arrangement with him. from what i can learn he and the others have quarreled and are opposed to each other." "where is the missing man?" asked bob. "that is something on which i can not be of the least help to you," was the reply. "there is nothing to show where he is." "then it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack to search for him, and as long and costly as the injunction means," commented mr. snodgrass. "i'm afraid it would," was the lawyer's answer. "what is the man's name?" asked jerry. "i have it here," proceeded the attorney. "it is mr. well, no, that's not it. oh yes! here it is. bell, that's it. mr. jackson bell." "what?" fairly shouted the three boys at once. "what name?" inquired the professor, wondering if he had heard aright. "jackson bell," repeated the lawyer. "why, do you know him?" "know him?" went on jerry, jumping up in his excitement. "why he is in the next room this very minute! well of all the strange pieces of luck!" then they all tried to tell the lawyer at once the story of the hermit and his son, making such a jumble that the attorney had to beg them to stop, while he listened to one at a time. finally the tale was related, and the boys and the professor as well, greatly excited, paused to see what the lawyer would say. "then i don't see any further trouble to your getting possession of the mine," said the attorney. "if mr. bell is on your side, and you make a joint application to the court or even to the government agent, i am sure you will be given instant charge of the claim." "there is only one difficulty," said mr. snodgrass. "mr. bell is wounded. his mind was not strong before the shooting, and it may be altogether gone when he recovers consciousness. in that case--?" "in that case i'm afraid you are as badly off as before," finished the lawyer. the door to the inner room, where mr. bell was in the bunk, opened, and tommy came out, looking worried. "is he worse, tommy?" asked the professor. "he's acting very queer," replied the boy. "he is sitting up in bed, and is trying to get something out from under his shirt. he's talking something about a mine." "he is probably delirious," said mr. snodgrass. "we must have a doctor. i'm afraid it looks bad for us, boys." at that instant the form of mr. bell, weak and tottering, showed in the doorway. he seemed greatly excited. "there you are!" he cried tearing open his shirt and throwing a bundle, done up in oiled silk on the table. "there are the papers. there are the proofs to the mine. the gang did not get them after all!" "calm yourself," spoke mr. snodgrass, in a soothing tone that one uses to sick children or fever patients. "i'm all right!" exclaimed mr. bell. "don't think i'm crazy. i was a little off my head, but the wound the bullet gave me, and the blood i lost, accomplished just what was needed. there, i tell you, are the papers proving my claim to the mine." "what mine?" asked the professor, while the others waited in anxiety for the answer. "the mine we were going to," responded the old man. "from the description you boys gave of it i recognize it as the same one i have more than a half share in. all the way up here i was trying to recall when i had been here before. i recognized the places, but my mind would not serve me. i had suffered so much that i was almost crazy. then came the shot, and i did not know anything more, until i just woke up in that room, and remembered all about it. now we will beat that gang." "hurrah!" cried jerry, seizing ned by the arms and starting to dance a hornpipe. "are you sure you can not be mistaken about the mine?" asked mr. snodgrass, for it seemed hardly possible that the old hermit, whom they had rescued, should turn out to be the much-wanted missing owner. "there are the papers, you can see for yourself," replied mr. bell. the lawyer, at a sign from the professor, made a careful examination of the documents. "they seem to be all right," he said. "i have no doubt but that you can fully establish your claim, mr. bell." "it isn't my claim, sir." "why i thought you said--" "everything i have or own is the property of these noble boys and professor snodgrass," went on the former hermit. "they saved my life, and that of my son's. if i gave them a hundred mines i could not repay them." "but we do not want your share," said mr. snodgrass. "it don't make any difference what you want, you've got to take it," said mr. bell, firmly. "we can settle that part later," put in the lawyer. "the thing to do now is to get possession of the mine. if you wish i will act for you." "of course we want you to," said jerry. "very well. i will take these papers, and go to court with them. if i am successful, as i have no doubt i shall be, i will apply to the sheriff to oust the crowd that is in charge of the mine. then you and mr. bell can take possession." "that's the way to talk!" fairly yelled nestor, who was anxious to get back to the "diggings." the lawyer was hurried back to town in the auto. nothing could be done that afternoon, as the court was closed. he promised to be on hand early in the morning. the boys could hardly sleep that night. mr. bell seemed to have fully recovered, and, beyond a slight pain where the bullet had hit him, he did not suffer. it was late when they went to bed, and somewhat late when they arose. "i'm going into town and see what's doing," said jerry after breakfast. "so am i," cried ned and bob. "better not," went on jerry. "if i have to bring back the lawyer, and the sheriff and some of his deputies to read the riot act to the gang, i'll need all the room there is." so jerry went off alone in the car. he did not find the lawyer in, but the attorney's clerk said he was at court. "i'll wait until he comes back," said jerry, and he sat down in the office. two hours later, the lawyer came in. "what luck?" asked jerry. "the very best. i have a peremptory order commanding that crowd to turn the mine over to your party and mr. bell. come on, we'll get the sheriff and finish the thing right up." the sheriff was only too glad of a chance for some activity. he and three deputies, well armed, got into the car, and jerry started off. to the boy the machine never seemed to move so slowly, but several times one of the deputies threatened to jump out if the auto did not slacken up a bit. arriving at the cabin, nestor, the two boys, and professor snodgrass were found anxiously waiting. "now for the mine!" cried jerry, as he rapidly explained the success of the mission. "wait till i get my gun," said nestor. "no shooting unless we have to," warned the sheriff. then they advanced on the mine. an eighth of a mile away they were halted by a guard. but an order from the sheriff, and a sight of the command from the court, made the guard give in, and he was sent back to the cabin, in custody of one of the deputies. then, without any warning, the party descended on the others of the gang, who were all gathered in the main cabin at dinner. at first it looked as if there was going to be trouble. several made an attempt to get their guns, but nestor, the sheriff, and his man, had covered them, and they saw that the game was up. "i'll read you this court order," said the sheriff. "you needn't bother," spoke the leader, whom the boys recognized as one of the men who had held tommy a captive. others in the gang were recognizable as men who had tried to capture mr. bell at lost lake. "we played a bold game, but we lost," said the leader, as he and his companions, gathering up their baggage, left the cabin, and made their way toward town. they did not go there, however,--since they feared further proceedings,--and were never heard of again. "hurrah, now we have our mine back again!" cried jerry. "i wonder if it is paying?" "better than ever, by the looks of this stuff," answered jim nestor, picking up some newly-mined ore that lay on ground. "no wonder that crowd wanted to keep possession of the mine." there followed a general jollification. the boys got up a fine dinner, at which the sheriff, his men, and the lawyer were guests. an arrangement was made whereby mr. bell should retain a large interest in the mine, while the other share was divided between our friends as before. the lawyer received a generous fee, and the sheriff and his men were not forgotten. "well," said jerry, a week later, "we came out all right, didn't we? i presume our adventures are all over now." "don't be too sure," put in bob. "something else may turn up soon." and bob was right, as we shall learn in another volume, to be called, "the motor boys afloat; or, the stirring cruise of the _dartaway_," a tale of land and sea. the days to follow were busy ones for jim nestor and the boys. the mine was started up in better shape than ever before, new machinery put in, and extra workmen engaged. letters were sent to the boys' folks, telling of all that had happened. "i want to say one thing," said jerry, one day. "and that is, that it feels mighty good to be back in the united states again." "exactly what i say," returned ned. "right you are," came from chunky. he rubbed his hands together. "and as we are back, and all is well, why--er--let us have some dinner." and then, with a merry laugh at the lad who never wanted to miss a meal, the others followed chunky to the table; and here as they sit down to a well-earned repast, we will take our departure. the end. _the motor boys series_ (_trade mark, reg. u. s. pat. of._) _by clarence young_ =cloth. mo. illustrated. price per volume, cents, postpaid= [illustration] the motor boys _or, chums through thick and thin_ in this volume is related how the three boys got together and planned to obtain a touring car and make a trip lasting through the summer. the motor boys overland _or, a long trip for fun and fortune_ with the money won at the great motorcycle race the three boys purchase their touring car and commence their travels. the motor boys in mexico _or, the secret of the buried city_ from our own country the scene is shifted to mexico, where the motor boys journey in quest of a city said to have been buried centuries ago by an earthquake. the motor boys across the plains _or, the hermit of lost lake_ unraveling the mystery surrounding an old hermit and a poor boy. the motor boys afloat _or, the stirring cruise of the dartaway_ in this volume the boys take to a motorboat, and have many adventures. the motor boys on the atlantic _or, the mystery of the lighthouse_ how the lads foiled the bad men who wanted to wreck a steamer by means of false lights is dramatically related. the motor boys in strange waters _or, lost in a floating forest_ telling of many adventures in the mysterious everglades of florida. the motor boys on the pacific _or, the young derelict hunters_ the derelict was of great value, and the hunt for it proved full of perils. the motor boys in the clouds _or, a trip for fame and fortune_ the boys fall in with an inventor and invest in a flying machine. after a number of stirring adventures in the clouds they enter a big race. cupples & leon co., publishers, new york * * * * * * transcriber's note: --punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected. --archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. --variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/fairviewboysatca gord fairview boys at camp mystery or the old hermit and his secret by frederick gordon author of "fairview boys afloat and ashore," "fairview boys on eagle mountain," "fairview boys and their rivals," etc. illustrated charles e. graham & co. newark, n. j. new york [illustration: "what's the matter?" cried the hunter.] * * * * * * books for boys by frederick gordon fairview boys series illustrated. price, per volume, cents, postpaid. fairview boys afloat and ashore or, the young crusoes of pine island fairview boys on eagle mountain or, sammy brown's treasure hunt fairview boys and their rivals or, bob bouncer's schooldays fairview boys at camp mystery or, the old hermit and his secret fairview boys at lighthouse cove or, carried out to sea * * * * * * copyright, , by graham & matlack _fairview boys at camp mystery_ contents chapter page i. the earthquake ii. the first snow iii. sammy has an idea iv. a queer sight v. winter fun vi. a fine chance vii. at camp mystery viii. the old mansion ix. sammy's queer find x. the mysterious room xi. the strange hermit xii. into the drift xiii. helping the hermit xiv. the boiling spring xv. end of camp mystery [illustration: logo] fairview boys at camp mystery chapter i the earthquake "there's jed burr!" "coming back to school; eh? then he can't be suspended any more." "no, he isn't. but i wish he was. there's sure to be a lot of trouble now, and i was thinking how much more fun we could have with him away." three boys stood talking together in the school yard, where many children were waiting for the final bell to ring to call them to their studies. the three boys were looking at a larger lad, who was walking slowly along the gravel path. "he looks to be the same bully as ever," said bob bouncer, one of the three boys. "i guess he is, too," added frank haven. "being suspended can't have changed him much." "well, if he tries any of his mean tricks on me," spoke sammy brown, "i know what i'll do!" "what?" asked frank, as he turned about to face the larger lad, so as to be ready, in case of any sudden attack, of the kind for which jed burr had a reputation. "what'll you do, sammy?" "i'll have him arrested! i'm not going to stand for any more of his games!" "i'm with you!" agreed bob. "but maybe we could play a trick on him first. he's played so many mean ones on us." "now don't start anything," advised frank, who was more quiet than either of his two chums. "if we begin, the blame will be on us. we'll let jed alone if he lets us." "he doesn't seem to be going to do anything," added sammy. "maybe he's going to behave better this term." "i hope so," returned frank. "well, let's go in. doesn't our room look dandy, since they fixed it up after the fire?" "i should say so!" cried sammy. "and miss williams brought a fine lot of pictures for the walls. it's more like the parlor at home than a classroom." "yes, and miss williams isn't like some teachers, either," went on frank. "she's as kind as can be." the three boys strolled toward the schoolhouse, which had opened for the fall term after some delay, caused by a fire. now the building, in some parts, was altogether new, and all the rooms had been redecorated and painted. the structure had also been made larger. "well, i'm glad, in some ways, that school's begun again," said sammy. "though vacation was lots of fun." "yes, we can have some good times in school," agreed frank. "and there's that clubroom your father fixed up in the barn for us," put in sammy. "that sure was good of him, frank. we can have fun there, if we can't at school. and i'm going to do a lot of training in our club gymnasium, too, this winter." "huh! you train!" laughed frank. "first we know you'll be off to the mountains, looking for more buried treasure." "aw, you're always casting that up!" grumbled sammy. "still, you must give bob credit for finding your father's jewelry that the tramp hid down in the schoolhouse well." "that's right," agreed frank. "and you found miser dolby's pocketbook. oh, say, look! there goes jed into the principal's office! i guess something must be going to happen." "i know all about it!" exclaimed a voice back of the three boys. they turned quickly, to see nellie somers. "tell us about it!" begged sammy. he and his chums so much wanted to know the story of the suspended boy coming back, that they did not mind asking a girl about it. "jed has promised to be a better boy," said nellie, glad that she had a chance to give some information. "the school board considered his case, after he took the spelling list out of miss williams' desk, and said he couldn't come back until he promised to be good. at first jed wouldn't, but he finally did, and he has to apologize to the whole school this morning. then he can be in his class again." "oh ho!" cried sammy. "so that's what makes jed so quiet!" "no wonder he didn't try any tricks," added frank. "he sure will feel mean to have to get up before the whole school," added bob bouncer. "come on in. it's almost time for the last bell." "good-bye!" cried nellie, as she ran on to join her girl friends. it was the first day of the new term, and there was more or less confusion. and since it was the first day, no one wanted to be late. also the talk of jed's apology had spread, and everyone wanted to see what would happen. into the school trooped the boys and girls, laughing and talking. many looked about to see the changes made since the fire. as sammy, frank and bob started up a short flight of steps to their room, they were startled to hear a banging noise above them. they looked up, and saw johnnie jones, one of the fattest little chaps in the school, start to roll down. he had stumbled at the top step, and had fallen head over heels. "look out!" cried bob. "hold fast!" advised sammy. "catch him!" called frank, and this was the best advice of all. "get together," went on frank to his chums, "and we'll hold him when he gets here." they were now about half-way up the flight of steps, and, forming themselves into a solid body, as though about to stop a rush in a football game, they braced themselves to catch fat johnnie. with a bump and a bounce he landed against them, and in another moment frank had set the little fellow on his feet again. "there you are, johnnie!" said frank, while sammy and bob brushed the dust from his clothes. "you aren't hurt; are you?" johnnie gasped once or twice, opened his mouth as though to howl, and then, thinking better of it, closed his lips again. "no, i'm not hurt!" he said bravely. "he's too fat to get hurt!" laughed bob. "you're like a rubber ball; aren't you, johnnie?" "i--i guess so," answered the little fellow, "but i don't want to bounce down stairs again!" the three chums laughed at him as he started up the stairs once more, and they kept close behind him, but he did not fall again. into their classroom went bob, sammy and frank. other boys and girls were already there, and more came in. miss williams was there to meet them with a smile. she was a very pretty school-teacher, and her pupils loved her. soon the final bell rang, and then the children from the different rooms marched into the one, big main hall, or auditorium, where the morning exercises were held. there were many new pupils present this first day of the term. there was singing, the reading of the bible, and prayers, and then mr. tetlow, the principal of the school, greeted those present. he spoke of the fire, and what had happened at it, and mentioned the delay in opening the school. he welcomed all who had now come, and said he hoped they would all study hard to make up for lost time. "and now," went on the principal, "i have something not so pleasant to say. but it has to be done, and it may be for the good of all of us. one of our pupils was suspended last term for doing something wrong. we all do wrong sometimes, but if we are sorry for it, and try not to do it again, we should be forgiven. "and so i hope when you hear jed burr say that he is sorry, you will all forgive him, and be friends with him again. now jed, let's get it over with," and he smiled at the former bully, who sat in a front seat. the principal wanted to make it as easy as he could for the lad. jed was very red in the face as he shuffled up to the platform. he hung down his head, and no one could doubt but that his punishment was hard. he stood for a moment before all the school, getting very red in the face. "well," said mr. tetlow, kindly, "go on, jed. just a few words, to tell us you are sorry." "i--i--er--i done wrong," stammered poor jed, "and i'm sorry for it!" the principal stepped up beside him. "that is enough," he said. "you did very well, jed. now we will let bygones be bygones. you may all go to your classes." sammy, bob and frank, with the others, marched out. the little scene in which jed, their former enemy, had taken part, had made them do some hard thinking. they were glad they had not been called on to stand up and apologize to the whole school. soon lessons were under way once more. miss williams gave a little talk to the pupils in her room, explaining the new work that was to be taken up that fall and winter. "it will be harder than that which you had before the fire," she said, "but you know we have to go ahead in this world. it will not do to stand still. i will help you all i can. "you will notice that i have hung some pictures on the walls. they are to help you in your lessons, for it is sometimes easy to understand a thing when we see a picture of it. i have other pictures to bring when we need them." sammy brown suddenly thought of something. he raised his hand to show that he wished to speak. "what is it?" asked miss williams. "we've got some pictures in our clubroom," said sammy. "i could bring them. there's a football game picture, and a lot of baseball players, and a man hunting, and----" sammy saw a smile on miss williams' face, and paused. "that's very nice of you, sammy," she said, kindly, "and if we need that sort of pictures you may bring them. but i'm afraid our lessons won't be about baseball or football. you'll get enough of those games out of school. "now we will begin on the geography lesson. i want you to look at this picture over here. it shows----" but miss williams did not say what the picture showed, for at that moment there was a low, deep rumbling that seemed to go all through the school. the building shook and trembled. then the rumble grew to a roaring sound, and the building vibrated still more. the windows rattled as if the glass would break. several girls screamed. the boys leaped from their desks. "it's another fire!" yelled sammy. "it's an explosion!" shouted bob. "no! it's an earthquake!" exclaimed frank. "come on, everybody! get out before the school falls on us!" and he made a rush for the door. "stop!" commanded miss williams sharply. "boys, you are forgetting yourselves. let the girls go first!" and, while the rumbling continued, and the building still shook, the boys held back, while the girls rushed from the room. chapter ii the first snow the whole school was in excitement. from all the rooms the boys and girls were rushing out, not stopping for their hats or coats. frightened teachers, and the excited principal, were trying to quiet them. for everyone felt sure the school building was going to fall, and all wanted to get out as quickly as possible. "now, boys, you may go!" said miss williams, when the girls were out of her room. some of the boys started, but frank haven, taking his place at the door, cried: "no, miss williams, you go first!" she gave him a glance that showed how much she appreciated his thoughtfulness for her, but she said quietly, though her lips trembled: "no, frank. i am like the captain of a ship. i will stay until the last. but, oh, do hurry out!" hearing this two other boys made a rush. "that won't do!" cried bob sharply. "you'll all get in a jam on the stairs." "that's right!" exclaimed sammy. "form in line, as we always do at fire drill!" "good!" cried miss williams. "ready! in line! march!" her sharp command had a good effect, and the boys marched out in order. sammy and his two chums came last, and miss williams followed them. the rumbling and shaking of the building still continued, and now dense white clouds could be seen coming from the basement. "she's on fire again!" cried sammy, as he and his chums reached the yard safely. "and she'll burn up!" added bob. the school yard was filled with excited children, the teachers urging them to get as far away from the building as they could. "is everyone out?" asked the principal. "teachers, look at your different classes and see!" this was done quickly. "oh dear!" exclaimed miss watson, teacher of the kindergarten. "oh dear!" "what is it?" someone asked. "johnnie jones--he isn't here!" at that instant, through a cloud of smoke in front of the window of the kindergarten room a face could be seen. it was that of johnnie jones. "he's in there!" gasped his teacher. "i'll get him!" shouted the principal. "get the children farther off!" "now, let me get him--please?" cried another voice, and jed burr, the bully, who had apologized that morning, sprang forward and went back again into the building which it was feared would fall at any moment. "i can't let him do that!" murmured the principal. "i must go after both of them." but before he could do this jed came out again, carrying fat little johnnie jones in his arms. "i got him all right!" shouted the former bully. "you're a brave boy!" cried mr. tetlow. just then the janitor of the school came up out of the basement. "it's all right!" he cried, through a white cloud of steam. "i have fixed it! i'll tell you all how it happened." "is the earthquake over?" asked sammy. "it wasn't an earthquake," said mr. hobb, the janitor. "come here, and i'll tell you about it." and while the frightened teachers and pupils are gathering back in their rooms, the danger being over, i will take a few moments to tell my new readers something about the boys and others who are to have parts in this story, and also something about the previous books in this series. to begin with, i think you already know my three heroes--sammy brown, bob bouncer and frank haven. though i have named him last in this case, frank was generally the leader in anything he and his two chums did. bob and sammy thought there was no one in the world like frank. sammy was rather more quiet, and his mother said more thoughtful, but if this was so, it was only because sammy was always thinking up something to do. he was quite a reader, and liked stories of mystery, and buried treasure. he was always sure that some day he would find a hidden store of gold, or make some big discovery. bob bouncer was a different sort of lad. he was full of fun, not to say mischief, and when he was around one had better look out that he did not find a funny note pinned to his coat-tail or else watch out that he did not discover a stone dropped into his pocket. but, though bob played many jokes, they were not mean or cruel ones. the three boys lived in the town of fairview, on the shore of rainbow lake, a large body of water, in the centre of which was an extensive island. the first book of this series was called "the fairview boys afloat and ashore; or, the young crusoes of pine island." in that i had the pleasure of telling how the three chums went out on the lake in the _puff_, a sailboat owned by george haven, frank's brother. they did not know much about boats, and the result was that the _puff_ was wrecked near pine island. the boys managed to get on this body of land, and there they lived, until rescued, in real robinson crusoe style. in the second book, called "the fairview boys on eagle mountain; or, sammy brown's treasure hunt," i related how the lads set off on a tour of discovery. sammy brown had come across some curious papers in his home attic, and was sure they told of hidden treasure. so the party set off for eagle mountain, and what they did there, and how the treasure hunt ended, you may read of in the book. "the fairview boys and their rivals; or, bob bouncer's schooldays," is the name of the third volume. in that you can find out all about the many things bob and his chums did; how they got the better of a mad bull, how they had fun in the woods, and how it was that jed burr came to be expelled. then came the robbery of mr. haven's jewelry store, the fire in the school, and the finding of the jewelry down in the well, where the thief had thrown it. and the fire, as i have related, was the cause of the school not being opened on the regular day in the term. which brings us down to the present time. "was there a fire?" asked mr. tetlow, the principal. "no, not exactly a fire," answered the janitor, "though the trouble was caused by a fire." "and there wasn't any earthquake?" asked sammy. he was rather disappointed, to tell the truth, that there had been nothing as big and sensational as an earthquake. "nary an earthquake," went on mr. hobb, who was rather pale. "indeed everyone had been greatly alarmed." "but the building shook!" declared nellie somers. "it certainly did," agreed miss williams. "i thought surely it was going to fall down." "and i thought jed was going to fall down with me," spoke up johnnie jones. "he shook me up and down." "i couldn't help it," said jed, with blushing face. "you're so--so fat." "i guess i am," sighed little johnnie. "well, jed, it was one of the bravest acts i have ever seen," declared the principal, and jed blushed with pleasure. it seemed that he wanted to make up for his mean tricks in the past by showing that he could be a hero when he desired. "now i'll tell you how it was," went on the janitor. "yes, do," urged mr. tetlow. "we don't want it to happen again." by this time the excitement had quieted down. there was no more smoke, and there was no smell of fire. "i had started up the new heating boiler to try it," explained the janitor. "we didn't exactly need steam on to-day, though it is a bit cold, and it looks like snow. but i thought i'd try the new steam plant, so i built a fire in the boiler. "i left it going and went off to do some work in another part of the school, and i guess i forgot about the steam. anyhow, all at once i heard the roar and the rumble, and i felt the building shake. i knew right away what had happened, and i ran down cellar. i didn't even stop to explain to anyone." "well, what did happen?" asked the principal. "why, the safety valve got stuck, and when the pressure got too heavy it wouldn't let the steam escape. so the pipes, all through the school, were filled and the pressure was so strong that they commenced to shake and tremble. that made the building vibrate, and the boiler began to rumble and roar, too. "i was afraid it might blow up, so down i rushed and opened the safety valve that was stuck shut. that let out the steam, and the pressure in the pipes went down. and that's all." "it was enough," said miss williams. "so that white cloud was steam, and not smoke from a fire?" "yes, ma'am," answered the janitor, "it was only steam." "is the safety valve all right now?" asked mr. tetlow. "oh, yes, indeed!" exclaimed the janitor. "i fixed it. i should have looked at it first, but it slipped my mind. i'm sorry." "well, it's all right, as long as no one is hurt," said the principal. "and now, as we have had so much excitement, i hardly believe that you children could do well with your lessons this morning. it is eleven o'clock now, so i will dismiss you all until this afternoon. come back when you have had your dinners." there were cries of delight at this, and the boys and girls hurried back into their classrooms, after their hats and coats, for the weather seemed to be getting colder. sammy and his two chums passed close to jed burr as they went in. then sammy did a kind act. "will you shake hands, jed?" he asked of the former bully. "that was a fine thing you did." jed blushed. "aw, that was nothin'," he said. "there wasn't any danger." "but you didn't know that," returned frank. "i'd like to shake hands with you, too." "so would i," added bob bouncer. "i guess we'll all be friends now, after this." "i've turned over a new leaf," said jed, when they had shaken hands with him. "i'm not going to bother you fellows any more." "that's good," spoke sammy, for jed had been a sore trial to them, and to many other small lads of fairview. "and we'd be glad to have you around to our clubhouse whenever you want to come," added frank, kindly. "thanks," said jed, gratefully. after bob bouncer had discovered mr. haven's jewelry hidden in the well, following the schoolhouse fire, the merchant had offered bob a reward of a hundred dollars. but bob's father would not let him take it, so mr. haven used the money in fitting up, in his barn, a fine clubroom and gymnasium for bob and his chums. talking over the accident to the steam boiler, and making merry that they had had such a short morning session, the boys and girls hurried along on their way home. sammy and his chums walked together, and, every now and then, sammy would look up at the sky. "what are you planning now?" asked bob, giving sammy a sly punch in the ribs. "studying how to make an airship?" and he winked at frank. "aw, let me alone," begged sammy. "can't i look at the weather if i want to?" "sure," agreed bob. "but what makes you so serious about it?" "i'm thinking it's going to snow," answered sammy, "and i'm going to get out my sled, when i go home, to be ready for it. i've got to get the rust off the runners." "snow!" cried frank. "it won't snow to-day." but it did. before school was out that afternoon the white flakes began coming lazily down, and the children, looking from the windows, felt merry at the prospect of a storm. snow is so different from rain. almost everyone is happy and jolly when it snows, but miserable when it rains. "say, it's going to be a good storm all right!" cried sammy, as he and his chums came out of school when lessons were over for the day. "it's three inches deep now, and falling fast." "yes, we'll have to get out our snow-shoes if it keeps on," laughed bob, as he slyly dropped some snow down frank's neck. "ouch!" cried frank, squirming about as he felt the coldness down his spine. "i'll wash your face for that, bob bouncer!" he raced down the street after his fun-loving chum, but before he reached him he saw something that made him stop. this was the sight of an elderly lady walking carefully along, just ahead of him, through the snow. as frank came up behind her he saw her fall heavily, and lay quite still in a heap on the sidewalk. "here you go, fellows!" cried frank, to bob and sammy. "we've got to help her--come here!" chapter iii sammy has an idea "maybe she's dead!" gasped sammy brown, as he reached the side of frank, and looked down on the motionless old lady. "there you go!" cried frank, half angrily, "always thinking something like that. why should she be dead?" "she fell heavily enough," said bob. "the snow's awful slippery. maybe her leg's broken." "that's more like it," said frank. "now we've got to take her into one of these houses. can we carry her?" "i guess we'll have to," said bob. "there doesn't seem to be anyone else around just now. can we lift her?" at that moment the elderly lady who had fallen tried to get up. her eyes, that had been closed, were opened, and she looked very pale. "are you hurt?" asked frank, anxiously. "we'll help you get up, and carry you into one of these houses." [illustration: "are you hurt?" asked frank.] he gazed up and down the street as he spoke. there were no other persons in sight, and the accident had happened at a place where there were only a few houses. had there been stores nearby someone might have come out at once to help the old lady. "i don't believe i am badly hurt," she said, with a smile. "i thought at first my leg was broken, but i'm sure, now, it is not, though it may be sprained. i slipped and struck my head when i went down. i must have been unconscious for a few seconds." "you were," said bob, who had once seen his mother faint. "now, if you'll let us, we can carry you to the nearest house, and get a doctor." "i'm sure i'm very much obliged to you nice boys," spoke the elderly lady, "but i do not believe you can carry me. i am pretty heavy." "we're strong," declared sammy. "we play football!" he added, proudly. "well, i think i can walk," the lady went on, "though i may have to lean on your shoulders. i should not have come out without my rubbers to-day, but i did not think it was going to snow. i guess winter has set in now, and i rather dread it." the boys thought this strange. to them winter was one of their jolly seasons, when they had much fun. they did not stop to think that the poor and the old do not like the hard cold of winter. "if you will let me take hold of your hands," went on the elderly lady, "i think i can get to my feet. then you may be able to help me to one of those houses." she held up her hands as she spoke. sammy took one and frank the other, while bob lifted her at the shoulders. "now!" she exclaimed, in a stronger voice than she had used before, "all together, and i'll be up!" the boys pulled and pushed, and slowly the old lady was gotten to her feet. she swayed unsteadily for a moment, and leaned heavily on frank. just then, a window in the nearest house was opened, and a woman, leaning out, called: "bring her right over here, boys. i'll look after her. i'll come and help you. are you much hurt, mrs. blake? i just happened to see you." "no, thank you, i'm not much hurt. i think i'm all right, except perhaps for a strain, or some bruises," was the answer. "i have good helpers, you see. don't come out in the storm. they can get me to your house." "are you mrs. blake?" asked sammy, quickly. "that is my name," was her answer, with a smile. "i guess my mother knows you," went on sammy. "her name is brown." "oh, are you mrs. brown's boy?" exclaimed mrs. blake. "i thought i knew your face. well, i'm real glad to see you. and are these your brothers?" "no'm, they're my chums," answered sammy. "do you feel all right now?" "yes, only a trifle dizzy. i'll be better when i rest a bit in mrs. handee's house. now let me see if i can walk." she found that she could, by going slowly. the shock of her fall was passing off, and by leaning on the shoulders of bob and frank, while sammy carried her bag and umbrella for her, she made her way to the house where the woman waited with the door open. mrs. handee came down the front steps to help mrs. blake up, and soon the elderly lady was sitting comfortably in an easy chair before the fire. "my!" exclaimed mrs. blake, leaning back comfortably. "this has been quite an experience for me," and she looked at the three boys, who did not know exactly what to do, now that they had come in. "i never fell before--not since i was a girl, and i guess i've forgotten how to do it." "you were lucky not to have broken some bones," spoke mrs. handee. "are you sure you don't want the doctor?" "we'll go for one!" offered sammy, eagerly. "oh, no, indeed, i don't want one," declared mrs. blake, with a laugh. "i'll be all right soon, and able to go home. my daughter will be worried about me. my, how it snows!" and she looked out of the window where could be seen a perfect cloud of white flakes coming down. "yes, i think we're going have a regular old-fashioned winter," said mrs. handee. "i dread it, too. now i'm going to make you a nice hot cup of tea. will you boys have something to eat?" she asked. sammy and his chums looked at one another and their faces got rather red. "if--if you please," said sammy, "i'm not allowed to have strong tea." "me either!" added frank and bob. "bless your hearts! i didn't mean tea!" laughed mrs. handee. "it is not good for growing boys, unless it's very, very weak, and then it isn't tea. i meant to give you some bread and jam. do you think you could eat it?" "could we?" murmured sammy. "just try us, mrs. handee!" exclaimed frank, and, with another laugh, the lady of the house went out to the kitchen. "well, i'm sure i can't thank you boys enough for what you did for me," said mrs. blake, after a pause. "it wasn't anything," replied bob. "oh, yes, it was, too!" she insisted. "i thank you very much, and i want to tell your mothers what nice boys you are. lots of young folks now-a-days don't think, or care, anything about the old folks. seems to me, now, that i've often seen you three boys around fairview together; haven't i?" and she looked at them closely. "yes'm, we're generally together," replied sammy. "do you go camping together?" asked mrs. blake. "oh, yes, often," spoke frank. "and once we were all wrecked together on pine island," added bob. "you don't tell me!" exclaimed mrs. blake. "on pine island? why i have a brother there. peter jessup is his name. he's quite a hunter, too. he lives at the far end, near woodport. have you ever been there?" "no, we were down at the other end," said frank. "then perhaps you did not meet my brother?" "no, not that we know of," answered sammy. "i'm sure he'd be glad to see you," proceeded mrs. blake. "he is fond of boys. when he was young he was just like you, always going off on hunting or fishing trips. if ever you go to pine island again i wish you'd call on him. i'll write him a letter, explaining how kind you have been to me, and i'm sure he'd be glad to see you at his hunting cabin." "has he a hunting cabin?" asked bob, his eyes shining in delight. "indeed he has, with lots of skins, and deer horns and the like of that in it," said mrs. blake. "of course he did not get them all around here, for game is rather scarce. but he lives the life of a hunter still, sleeps in a 'bunk' as he calls it, and all that. he even cooks over a campfire in the summer." "oh, i wish we could go there!" sighed bob. "i'm sure you'll be welcome," spoke mrs. blake. and then mrs. handee came in with the tea for her elderly guest, and the bread and jam for the boys, and that they enjoyed it i am sure i need not say. "well, i think i will be able to go along now," said mrs. blake, after a pause. "that tea made me feel much better." "are you sure you can go?" asked mrs. handee. "it's quite a step to your daughter's house." "oh, i can do it," was the answer. "my leg is much better, and i only have a slight headache. i thank you very much. as for you boys, don't forget to come and see me, and i'll tell you more about my brother peter. i'll be sure to write to him and tell him you're going to visit him." "we'll go if we can," said frank. sammy brown seemed to be thinking deeply on some subject. the boys said good-bye and went out into the storm. the snow was still coming down, and they wanted to play in it--to make balls to toss at one another, to roll in it, to jump over and into the drifts, to roll big balls as the foundation for a snow house. there was nothing more they could do for mrs. blake, she said, and she would soon start for home herself. so sammy, bob and frank hurried away, promising to call on the lady to whose aid they had come. "are you really going?" asked frank of his chums, as they walked on through the snow. "i mean to her house?" "of course we are!" cried sammy. "i want to meet her brother the hunter; don't you?" "i guess it would be nice," agreed frank. "nice!" cried sammy. "say, i guess you don't know what might happen if we went to see him; do you?" "you mean we might shoot a bear or a deer?" laughed frank. "no, i don't mean anything like that, for now there aren't any such things on pine island. but you know we never have been up at the far end of the island, and we might find----" "oh, i know what he's going to say!" cried frank, as he threw a snowball at a boy going down the street. "you're thinking we can find some treasure there; eh, sammy?" "well, we might!" insisted sammy, not minding the laughs of his chums. "that part of the island is lonely enough for treasure. but i had another idea." "say, you're full of 'em to-day!" remarked bob. "let's hear it," suggested frank. "well, you know there's supposed to be a queer old hermit up at the far end of the island," went on sammy. "a hermit?" cried frank. "yes, a strange old hermit, with a long white beard, and i've heard it said that he has some secret he's trying to hide. if we go there we might find out the secret. now what do you think of that for an idea?" demanded sammy, eagerly. chapter iv a queer sight sammy's two chums looked strangely at him. he returned their gaze steadily. "well," he said, defiantly, "it's true! what makes you look at me that way?" "ha! ha!" laughed frank. "he's the same old sammy, isn't he, bob?" "that's what he is! always thinking he's going to find a treasure, and if he can't do that he trots out an old hermit. go on, sammy, can't you scare up a ghost while you're at it? the ghost of pine island! go ahead, make up something about that." sammy brown turned squarely about, and walked away from his chums without saying a word. for a moment frank and bob looked after him, and then they looked at one another. "there he goes," exclaimed frank. "and i guess he's mad, too," added bob. "but i didn't mean anything." "neither did i!" "let's call him back." "let's go after him!" thus bob and frank spoke, one after the other. then bob cried: "i say, sammy! come on back! wait a minute. we didn't mean anything." but sammy kept on his way, never turning his head to look back. on he plodded through the snow that was still falling. "he's real mad this time," said bob. "yes, i guess we'll have to apologize, same as jed burr did," agreed frank. "come on!" together they raced after sammy, and, catching up to him, they grasped him by either arm. they spoke quickly and eagerly by turns. "we didn't mean anything." "we were only fooling." "maybe there is a hermit on pine island after all." "we--we apologize!" burst out frank. he said it in such a comical manner that sammy, hurt as his feelings had been, could not stand out against his chums any longer. a smile came over his face, and then bob and frank laughed too. "all right, sammy," declared frank. "we believe you. tell us about the hermit. maybe we can go up there and see him." "and about the ghost, too," added bob. "there isn't any ghost that i know of," cried sammy, quickly, "and i didn't mention any." "bob means the hermit," said frank quickly, winking at his chum to show that he must not speak of that subject again. "tell us about the hermit, sammy." "well, i'll tell you all i heard," went on the lad who so loved to dig after mysteries. "it was benny lane, the cripple boy, who told me. i was walking along with him one day, about a week ago, and we saw old silas dolby, the miser, just ahead of us. i just happened to say that mr. dolby lived like a hermit, and benny said that it was so, for his uncle had once seen a hermit." "and of course that set you going right off," spoke bob. "yes, it did," answered sammy. "i asked benny where his uncle had seen the hermit, and ben said it was on pine island. that was the first i ever heard of one of those men being there, so i asked all i could about it. "benny didn't know much, but he said his uncle had been out fishing one day, and stopped off at pine island to eat his lunch. he was almost through, when an old man, all stooped over, and with a long white beard, came out of the bushes, shook a stick at benny's uncle and told him to get off that part of the island, as he owned it." "did he go?" asked frank. "yes," went on sammy, "for the hermit acted dangerous. ben's uncle thought maybe he might be an escaped lunatic. so he got into his boat, the hermit watching him all the while, and rowed away." "and what became of the hermit?" asked frank, always eager for details. "he disappeared into the bushes again," said sammy. "i didn't tell you fellows anything about this, for i knew you'd laugh. then, when mrs. blake just now told us about her brother living on pine island, and when she said we might go to see him, i thought i'd tell you about the hermit. but you didn't believe me." "oh, but we do now!" said frank, quickly. "and is he hunting after a buried treasure?" asked bob. he began to think there might be more, after all, to sammy's story than he had at first thought. "i don't know, for sure, anything about a treasure there," said sammy, remembering how he had once started on a treasure hunt, which had ended in the finding of only a pocketbook with memorandum papers in it. and this belonged to miser dolby. but there was something else of value in the wallet, so, after all, sammy's hunt amounted to something. "well, we might go up to the island, and see the wild hermit, anyhow," suggested frank. "that would give us something to do when we get a day or so of vacation." "the only trouble is that the lake will soon be frozen over," put in bob. "we could skate over," suggested sammy. "that's right, we could!" cried frank. "we'll do it!" "what do you s'pose the hermit lives on the island for?" asked bob. "and why didn't we see him when we were wrecked there?" "i don't know," replied sammy. "maybe he likes to be lonesome, or else maybe no one wants him to live near them. he may be sort of wild." "i should think he was, if he drove benny's uncle away," came from frank. "we'll have to be careful if we meet him." "that's right," agreed sammy brown. the boys kept on toward their homes, meeting with many of their friends on the way. there were several snowballs thrown, all in good fun, and some of the boys proposed to make a snow fort, and have a regular snowball fight. the next day, after school, the fort was built in a vacant lot. then the boys divided into sides, one party getting inside the fort, and the other, outside, trying to capture it. the three chums decided it would be more fun to storm the fort, so they joined the outside forces. the battle lasted for some time, and many snowballs were thrown back and forth. [illustration: the battle lasted for some time.] "come on, now! charge on the enemy!" cried frank, when he thought he saw a good chance to take the fort. he led the charge, and with such good effect that the fort was captured, and he and his chums left in possession. then the battle turned about, and the snowball fight began all over again. several days of winter fun passed. the boys and girls went coasting before and after school, made snow-men and rolled large snowballs. the weather was pleasant, and just warm enough so that the snow would pack well. one day mrs. blake called on mrs. brown, to thank her for the way in which sammy and his chums had helped her. "your son and his chums are very bright and good boys," said mrs. blake, who had gotten over her fall in the snow. "i have written to my brother, peter jessup, about them, and he says anytime they want to visit his end of pine island he'll be glad to look after them." "that is very kind of him," said mrs. brown, "but sammy and his two friends go off now on more strange trips than i think is good for them." "oh, pshaw!" exclaimed mrs. blake. "boys will be boys! let 'em roam, i say, as long as you know where they are, and that they are safe." "well, i guess if they get the chance they'll go," laughed mrs. brown. "they generally get what they're after. i'll tell them of your kindness." when sammy and his chums heard of what mrs. blake had said, and of the invitation of mr. jessup, the hunter, they grew excited at once, and wanted to start for pine island the next day. but there was school to be thought of, and they, as well as the other pupils, had missed considerable on account of the delay caused by the fire. "besides, it's winter now--not summer," said mrs. brown. "it would not do to go to the island in winter." "oh, yes, it would," cried sammy. "we could dress warm." "besides," said frank, "mr. jessup had a warm cabin." "well, you'd better wait," suggested sammy's mother, and they had to do so. but, about a week after this, there came a cold spell of weather and the lake was frozen over. when frank awoke one morning he looked out of his window, and saw a sheet of ice on rainbow. "oh, fine!" he cried. "now for some skating!" he took his skates to school with him that morning, as did sammy and bob, and during the noon recess the chums, and several of their friends, tried the ice. it was smooth, and thick enough to be safe. "let's skate over to pine island after school is out!" proposed sammy. "i'm with you!" cried bob. "and i'll go too," added frank. "maybe we'll see the hermit." they said nothing to their companions about their plans, but when school was dismissed that afternoon they put on their skates and started across the frozen lake. they felt sure they could reach the island and get back home before dark, and each had received permission to go skating after school, though the island was not mentioned. it was glorious fun on the ice. for some time the three chums found themselves in the midst of their skating companions, but they soon left them behind, and, a little later, were nearing pine island. "make for the upper end," advised sammy. "that's where the hermit will be, if he's anywhere." but though they had had good luck up to this time, bad luck now set in. first the skate of one of the boys would become loose, and he would have to stop and tighten it. then the same thing would happen to another. so they were delayed, and it was almost dusk when they came opposite the far end of the island. this was a place they had seldom, if ever, visited. "well, here we are at last," said sammy. "i'm going to take off my skates and go ashore a while. my feet ache." "we really ought to go back," said frank, slowly. "it's getting dark, and if we're as long going home as we were coming it will be after six when we get in. the folks will worry." "oh, well, we won't stay but a minute--just to rest," said bob. "i'm all out of wind." "well, all right," agreed frank. so they took off their skates and walked on the island. it was covered with snow, and curiously still and silent. "i wonder where mr. jessup has his cabin?" spoke sammy. "probably well inland," said frank. "hark!" cautioned bob. there sounded a rustling in the bushes just ahead of the boys, near a clump of trees. something moved. "maybe it's a bear!" exclaimed sammy. "huh! like the one you thought you saw before, only it was a dog!" laughed bob. "forget it!" grunted sammy. he did not like to be reminded of that. "look!" suddenly exclaimed frank. with trembling finger he pointed straight ahead. it seemed as if a snowbank was moving. and then the boys saw a queer sight. a shaggy head of white hair, and a long white beard rose up almost in front of them. the hair and beard framed a scowling face, that glared directly at the three boys. "quick! run!" cried sammy. "it's the wild hermit of pine island!" chapter v winter fun for a moment, in spite of sammy's warning, neither of his chums was able to move. nor, for that matter, was sammy either. as snakes are said to charm birds by looking at them steadily, so the sight of the old hermit, if such he was, seemed to charm the three boys into standing still there in the snow on the shore of pine island. it was rather a scary scene, with dusk falling, amid a silence that was more startling than noise would have been. the old man rose up from the snow-covered bushes, seeming to tower more than six feet in height. he looked steadily at the boys. then sammy found his voice again, and yelled: "come on, fellows, run!" "that's right! i'm with you!" added frank. and by this time bob bouncer had gotten over his first fright, so he, too, added his voice to those of his chums. "hit him!" he cried. "throw a snowball at him!" "don't you dare do it!" came from sammy. "that'll make him awful mad! run for all you're worth!" this seemed the best advice, for really the old man, in spite of his long white hair and beard, that made him look something like the pictures of santa claus, had not a kindly-appearing face. he scowled, as though very angry at the boys. as yet he had not said a word, only, as he rose to his full height, he made a move as if to come from behind the bushes, back of which he seemed to have been hiding. "here he comes!" yelled sammy. "come on, fellows!" they needed no other warning. the three boys took to their heels, and crashed over the snow and bramble-covered ground to the edge of the frozen lake. "you'd better get away from here!" yelled the strange old man after them. "if i catch you around here again, i'll----" but the boys did not stop to hear what he would do to them. they did not even stop to fasten on their skates, but ran over the ice, slipping and sliding. "is--is he coming?" gasped bob. "i don't know. look back and see for yourself," said sammy. bob did so, but as one cannot very well run over slippery ice and look backward at the same time, what happened to bob can be easily imagined. down he went in a heap, rolling over and over, and sliding along as well. "hey, fellows!" he cried. "don't leave me. help! he'll get me sure! stay with me!" his appeal touched the hearts of his chums. "we can't leave him like that!" said frank. "no," panted sammy. "we'll have to stay with him." they slid along, unable at first to stop on the slippery ice, and then they slowly came to a halt. turning, they went back to pick up bob, but he had already scrambled to his feet, and was running after them. "he isn't coming," said frank, catching sight of the strange man, standing on the shore of the island, near where the boys had landed. "i guess he isn't going to chase us." "it's a good thing, too," panted bob. "why?" asked frank, with a smile. "because if he'd come after me i'd have hit him with my skates; that's what i would!" boasted bob. "what did you run for then?" asked sammy. "'cause you fellows did. think i was going to stay there all alone and tackle him? i was not! so he isn't coming after us; eh?" "no, there he stands," answered sammy, peering through the darkness. they could just make out the old hermit, and as they looked they saw him shake his fist at them. then he disappeared behind a tree. "well, come on, let's get on our skates and make for home," proposed frank. "it's getting late, and the folks will be worried." "that's right," agreed sammy. "but i guess, after this, you fellows will believe what i tell you about hermits and--and things; won't you?" "well, you were right about the hermit," admitted frank. "he sure is there. but that doesn't say there's treasure on the island." "treasure! of course there is!" insisted sammy. "did you ever know of a hermit where there wasn't treasure? that's what hermits are for--to guard a treasure." "well, maybe," said bob, slowly. "anyhow if there _was_ treasure on the island, i wouldn't want to hunt for it if that terrible old man was guarding it." "i would," spoke sammy, bravely. "maybe he doesn't look so scary by daytime. i'm coming up again." "i'm not!" exclaimed bob. but none of the boys knew how soon they would again visit pine island, nor what strange adventures they would have there. they soon had their skates on, and struck off across the frozen lake toward fairview and their homes. it grew darker and darker, but presently the stars came out, and as the ice was glaring white they did not have much trouble seeing their way. reaching home, they found their parents just beginning to get alarmed about them, fearing there had been some accident on the ice. the boys told of their adventure, but in their own homes, with the lamps lighted, and warm fires glowing, the encounter with the hermit did not seem so terrible as it had at the time it happened. "if i see him again i'm going to speak to him," declared sammy. "i'm going to ask him why he doesn't want anybody on that part of the island." "better not," advised sammy's father. "he may be harmless if let alone, but his mind may be diseased, and if you annoy him he might do you some harm." "well, i'll ask mr. jessup, the hunter, about him then," decided sammy, and his father thought this might be all right. there were happy days in fairview now. winter had set in to stay, it seemed, and there was skating and coasting enough to satisfy everyone. sammy and his chums told their friends of their trip to pine island, and of having seen the hermit, and several of the smaller boys of their acquaintance shivered with fear. a number of the larger boys, including jed burr, at once said they were going up and see if they could not find the hermit themselves. jed burr, i might say, was quite a different boy now. he no longer was a bully, tormenting those younger or weaker than himself. his suspension, and the apology he had had to make, seemed to have taken good effect on him. then, too, he was looked upon somewhat as a hero, from having gone back to rescue the little boy at the time when it was thought the school was going to be toppled over by an earthquake. "i like jed now," said sammy, one day. "so do i," added bob. "he's real kind," said frank. "yesterday i had to bring home from the store a heavy basket of potatoes. jed met me and carried it for me." and jed himself was glad that he had "turned over a new leaf." he was finding out that it is more fun, in the end, to be good than to be bad. and jed's teacher was glad, too, for he gave her less trouble. so, as i say, jed and some of the bigger boys in the school, having heard of the experience of sammy and his chums, had decided to go to pine island, to see if they could not find the hermit. "will you come along, sammy, and show us where you saw him?" asked jed. "i will, if bob and frank will," was the answer. but bob and frank would not go, and sammy would not go without them. so jed and his chums set off by themselves on their skates for pine island. they were gone nearly the whole of one saturday, but when they came back they were disappointed, for they had seen nothing of the hermit. "i guess you fellows dreamed it," said jed, with a laugh. "or else you saw shadows on the snow." "we did not dream it!" declared sammy. "and can shadows holler at you?" bob wanted to know. "no, but maybe you heard an echo," suggested jed. "there couldn't be any echo unless somebody said something," spoke frank, "and we heard that hermit speak as plain as anything, and we weren't saying a word." "well, it's queer we didn't see him," returned jed. several days passed--days filled with many winter joys. sammy and his two chums made themselves skate-sails. they took some sticks, and stretched cloth over them, something between the sail of a boat and a kite in shape. then, holding these sails in their hands, they would let the wind blow them over the ice. thus they could skate without getting tired out. then there were sleighing parties, and coasting races on the big hill back of the schoolhouse. sammy and his chums made themselves a bob, by fastening two low clipper sleds together with a long plank. it had a steering wheel, and a bell that sounded, as the bob went down hill, to warn everyone to get out of the way. more snowball battles, and the building of snow houses and snow-men made up other fun for the boys and girls. "i'm going to make the biggest snow house that ever was put up in fairview!" exclaimed sammy, one day. like everything else he did, or had a part in, sammy wanted his undertakings to be out of the ordinary. "all right, we'll help you," said bob and frank. they started the snow house in sammy's yard, as he had proposed it. a dozen large snowballs were rolled, and put in line on four sides of a square. these were to be the walls of the house. the walls were made quite high. then inside of them was piled all the snow the boys could gather. they cleared the ground for some distance about the house, and sammy's father said if only they would work as hard cleaning off the sidewalks in winter, they would be doing a good thing. "but cleaning sidewalks isn't any fun," declared sammy, and his chums agreed with him. they were going to make a big snow pile inside the walls of balls, and then hollow it out, leaving a roof of snow on top. this would be the house. besides the door, by which the snow would be shoveled out, there were also to be windows. all went well for a time. then, when the house was nearly finished, sammy's father came out to look at it. "you're making your roof too thin, boys," he said. "it will fall in on you." "oh, i guess not!" boasted sammy. "we want to have the walls and roof thin, as that gives us more room inside." "well, you mind what i'm telling you," said mr. brown. hardly had he spoken when sammy, who was using his shovel to scrape some snow from the ceiling of the house, sent his shovel right through the roof. "oh!" he cried. he did not have a chance to say anything more, for, just then, the whole roof fell in, burying himself as well as frank and bob out of sight. "i told you so!" cried mr. brown. however, little harm was done, as the roof was too thin to hurt any of the boys. they began to dig themselves out, with mr. brown's help, and soon were outside the ruins of their snow house. "that's too bad," said bob. "it sure is," agreed frank. "and it was all my fault," admitted sammy, with a sigh. "never mind," went on bob. "we can put boards across the walls, now, for a roof, and cover them with snow." "i think that would be the safest plan," spoke mr. brown. the boys had much fun after that, in their snow house. "say, when are we going to take another trip to pine island, and look for--" began sammy brown one day, about a week after the falling in of the snow house roof. "were you going to say look for the hermit?" asked bob, with a laugh. "no, i meant mr. jessup, the hunter. i think it would be jolly to go up and camp there." "it would," agreed frank. "but we have to go to school. it wouldn't be much fun just to go for one day. i'd like to stay a week." "well maybe we could go when the christmas vacation comes," suggested sammy. "i'm going to ask my folks, anyhow." "so will i!" cried frank. "and i," added bob. they were on their way home from school that afternoon, talking over the proposed trip to pine island, when, as they came within sight of rainbow lake, sammy uttered a cry. "look!" he exclaimed, pointing. "the ice must have all melted. there's a sailboat on the lake!" "sailboat! that isn't a sailboat!" said bob. "no, it's an ice yacht!" cried frank. "come on down and let's see who has it. maybe they'll give us a ride." the boys broke into a run, and soon saw that what frank had said was true. it was an ice-boat--one built with runners, like big skates, and a sail, fixed on a mast, standing up in a platform--shaped like a triangle. the boat was skimming swiftly over the ice. "say, that's all right!" cried sammy. "i'm going to make one of those!" "there he goes again!" laughed frank. "well, i am--you'll see!" went on sammy. "come closer, and we'll look how they're made. that seems to be a new kind." the three chums went out on the ice toward the skimming boat. suddenly there was a cracking sound, a deep boom, like a shot from a distant cannon, and a wide crack appeared in the ice, just in front of the ice-boat. before those aboard could turn aside, the front part of the craft had slid into the cold waters of the lake, and several figures were seen floundering about. "come on!" cried sammy, breaking into a run. "we've got to help save them!" chapter vi a fine chance the boys, following sammy, broke into a run. with anxious eyes they looked toward where the ice-boat had broken through a great crack in the frozen surface of rainbow lake. "there's somebody climbing out!" cried frank, as he saw a figure pull itself up on the side of the overturned boat. "but there are some others there!" exclaimed sammy. "we've got to save them all! there's nobody else around!" it was true. that part of the lake was deserted at this moment. "how are we going to save them?" asked bob, as he plodded on. "i don't know how, but we've got to do it!" panted sammy. "don't go too close, or the ice will give way with us," cautioned frank. "i was thinking of that," answered sammy. they were now nearing the boat. part of it rested on firm ice, but the front part sagged into the water, and the sail was half covered. sitting astride of the side of the craft was a boy whom sammy and his chums recognized as jed burr. "anybody else there?" cried sammy, as he came to a stop, and looked at the ice to see if it would be safe to go further. "yes!" cried jed, as well as he could from shivering, for he was wet through, and very cold. "hank blair is there, and jim eaton!" "can you get 'em out?" asked sammy. "shall we run for help?" "time help gets here they'll be gone!" groaned jed. "oh, why didn't i see that crack?" "help! help us out!" came faintly from the black water that could be seen through the opening of the ice. sammy and his chums, looking under the mast of the overturned ice-boat, saw two forms struggling in the water. their hands clung to the edges of the ice, only to have it break off in their grasp. then they would bob under again. "we've got to save them!" cried sammy. "we can't!" moaned bob. "let's go for help!" "can you reach them?" asked sammy of jed, paying no attention to what bob said. "i could if i had a rope to throw to them. but i can't get a rope! oh, what shall i do?" sammy was doing some hard and quick thinking. something like a rope was needed so that jed could hold one end and throw the other to the floundering lads. a rope? where could they get one now? true there were ropes on the ice-boat, but they could not be reached. "i have it!" cried sammy. "our book straps! quick, fellows, take the straps off your books!" it was a bright idea. the straps were the very thing needed. now it happened that sammy and his chums had very long book straps, much longer than were really needed. they were at least a yard in length, and often only a few books were carried in them. but the boys had a habit of also including their skates, and other playthings, in with their books, so they declared that long straps were needed. frank and bob at once grasped sammy's plan. in a trice they had loosed the buckles, and handed him their straps. he fastened the three together and thus had a leather rope almost ten feet long. "that's the idea!" cried jed, still shivering on the side of the ice-boat. "i can reach 'em with that!" "you'd better--better reach us--s-s-s-soon!" called jim eaton, his teeth chattering with cold. "that's--ri-ri-right!" shivered hank blair. "have you out in a jiffy now!" called jed. "throw me the strap, sammy!" "i'll bring it to you," said sammy. "no, don't. it mightn't be safe. the whole boat might slip into the water." so sammy tossed the three straps, fastened together as they were, to jed, who caught them. the next moment, holding firmly to one end, jed swung the other to hank. hank grasped it and carefully began to pull himself forward so he could reach the edge of the ice-boat. a very little help, from a person on a solid place, will allow a person in the water to lift himself up. the water buoys him, so to speak. you boys who have been in swimming know that if you keep low in the water you can support yourself by merely placing one finger on the edge of a pier or a boat. [illustration: sammy tossed the three straps, fastened together.] it was so with hank. slowly, by means of the straps, he was pulled up until he could grasp the ice-boat. "i--i'm all right now," he panted. "get after jim!" he released his hold of the strap, and it was tossed to jim. and not any too soon, either, for jim could not hold on much longer. he was weak from the cold. but he, too, was soon safely towed to a place where he could grasp the half-submerged ice-boat. all three was now comparatively safe. "now look out!" called jed, as he threw back to tommy the buckled straps. "i'm going to work my way to the solid ice, and you two fellows follow. can you do it?" "we've got to!" cried jim, desperately. "go ahead--i'm with you!" exclaimed hank. slowly jed edged his way to where the stern of the ice-boat rested on the solid, frozen surface. in a few seconds he was in safety, though he was wet and shivering, and his clothes were beginning to freeze to him. "come on!" he called to hank and jim, and they followed, but more slowly, for they were quite exhausted. but soon they, too, were safe. "oh, i'm so glad!" cried sammy brown. "so am i!" echoed his two chums. "and maybe we aren't also, youngsters!" chattered jed, "we won't forget this on your part!" "i should s-s-s-say n-n-n-not!" stammered hank. "those straps saved our lives!" "well, you'd better run home as soon as you can," advised frank, "or you'll catch your death of cold." "that's good advice," said jed. "come on. we can leave the ice-boat where it is for a while. i'm going to run and see if i can get warmed up. see you later, sammy!" he set off on a trot toward shore, his two soaked friends following. sammy and his chums remained to look at the ice-boat. some men and boys came up then, too late, however, to help in the rescue. then the men got ropes and pulled the ice-boat up on the hard surface, whence it was hauled to where it was kept tied up. some of the ropes had broken, so that it could not be sailed. "sort of a queer accident," remarked jerry grow, who, with his dog prince, had come up with the crowd. "those fellows could have sailed almost anywhere else on rainbow lake and not gone through. but they had to pick out a spot over a spring, where it never freezes very thick, and of course they went through. there ought to be a mark put up here to warn ice-boats and skaters to keep off." "we'll put one up," said sammy, and a few days later they did mark the danger spot in the ice. it had frozen over again, and could not have been noticed except for the red box which sammy and his chums placed there. thus further accidents were avoided. as for jed and his companions, prompt action saved them from anything worse than slight colds. they got home, took hot baths, drank plenty of hot lemonade and, in a day or so, were out again. it appeared that the three larger boys had bought the ice-boat at second-hand from a man in another town. it was the first time they had tried it that they sailed over the thin ice, and went in. "but it won't happen again," said jed to sammy, when he and jim and hank again met the three chums. "thanks to you chaps we'll know where the danger spot is now." "and thanks to them that we're not down there under the ice now," added hank, with a slight shiver. "that's right," chimed in jim. "say, any time you boys want a ride in our ice-boat, let us know." "sure enough!" exclaimed jed. "maybe you fellows would like to take a sail. it's perfectly safe on the lake now, and we've fixed the boat where she was broken that day." "is the ice safe?" asked sammy. "sure," answered jim. "it's frozen ever so much thicker than it was the day we went out, and besides, we won't go near the danger spot. don't you want to come for a trip?" "fellows, i've an idea!" cried sammy, looking at his chums. "what, another?" asked bob. "yes," went on sammy, with a grin. "this is a fine chance for us. christmas vacation starts next week. why can't we go to pine island on the ice-boat, camp there a few days with mr. jessup, and have jed come back for us--that is if he will?" and he looked at the former bully. "of course we'll come for you!" he exclaimed. "we'd do anything for you boys. we'll take you to pine island any time you say!" "then it's all settled!" spoke sammy, though it was far from that. "we'll go camping with mr. jessup, and--we'll find out the secret of the old hermit," he added in a whisper to his chums. chapter vii at camp mystery "sammy, do you really think we can do it?" "how did you happen to think of it?" thus frank and bob questioned sammy as they walked away from jed and the larger boys, after getting the promise of the use of the ice-boat any time they wanted it. "of course i think we can do it," answered sammy. "and i don't just know how i happened to think of it, except that i knew if we did go camping on pine island we'd have to take some extra clothes with us, and maybe something to eat, and we couldn't very well do that and skate. so i thought of the ice-boat. it'll hold a lot." "it's a fine idea!" exclaimed frank. "now the next thing is to see if our folks will let us go." the boys were a little worried about that part of the program. true, they had been in a number of adventures of late, and their parents had not objected to their going off on several trips during the summer; trips, too, that kept them away over night. but now it was winter, and sleeping away from their warm beds might mean severe colds, if nothing worse. so all three of the boys were a bit doubtful about being allowed to go. "i'll tell you what let's do," proposed sammy. "what?" asked frank. "let's go see mrs. blake," he went on. "we'll tell her we want to go up and call on her brother. she said he'd be glad to have us, and we'll get her to ask our folks if we can't go. they'll be sure to let us then." "good idea, sammy!" cried frank. "i believe that will work!" declared bob, slyly sticking out his foot to trip up sammy. but the latter was too quick for him, and it was bob himself who went down in a snowbank. "i--i'll wash your face for that!" he cried, as he scrambled to his feet and made a rush for sammy. but at that instant old mr. dolby, popularly called a miser, came unexpectedly along, and bob ran full tilt into him, knocking him down. "whew!" whistled frank. "now you have gone and done it!" the miserly old man struggled to his feet. all the boys were afraid to go near to help him, for fear he would use his cane on them. "ah, ha!" he spluttered as he got up, brushing the snow from his clothes. "ah, ha! up to your old tricks again; are you? knocking folks down! i'll fix you for this! i'll have you all arrested, that's what i will!" he shook his cane at the frightened boys. "i--i didn't mean to!" faltered bob, as he picked up the angry man's hat and gave it to him. "didn't mean to! humph! that's what ye allers say! but i'll have the law on ye jest the same! i'll have ye all arrested! look at my hat--all snow!" "it'll brush off," said sammy. "hold your tongue! don't speak to me!" snapped the angry man, as he stalked off down the street. "i'll attend to your cases." for a moment the three chums remained looking after him. then, as he noted the direction taken by the miser, frank said anxiously: "he's going toward the police station. maybe he will have us arrested." "he can't have you two taken in," said bob. "i'm the only one that knocked him down." "huh! s'pose we'd let you stand it all?" demanded sammy. "we'll all stick together. but come on. there's no use waiting for trouble. if he does make a complaint let the officer find us. i'm going home and ask my mother if i can go to pine island." he turned aside, but stopped a moment later to pick up a paper from the snow. he unfolded it and exclaimed: "why! it's a check--a check for ten dollars, and it's for mr. dolby! he must have dropped it." "say! this is just the thing!" cried frank, with ready wit. "let's run and give it to him. maybe he won't be mad then." there was no need to race after the old miser, for a moment later he turned the corner, coming toward the boys. he seemed very much in a hurry, and quite excited. "have you found it? did i drop it here? if you boys have found it and don't give it up--" he spluttered. "is this it?" asked sammy quickly, holding out the check. the miser fairly snatched it from the boy's grasp. "that's it! where'd you get it? you must have took it from my pocket when you knocked me down!" the peevish man exclaimed. "we did not!" cried sammy, in righteous anger. "we found it in the snow where it fell. and knocking you down was an accident." perhaps the miser realized this, or perhaps the joy at finding the ten dollar check he thought he had lost made him more humane. at any rate he growled out: "well, maybe you couldn't help it. but you boys shouldn't be so rough. i won't have you arrested this time, but i will next. i'm an old man, and i can't stand bein' knocked around rough-like. here--here's a penny for you for findin' my check," and he fumbled in an old wallet. "no, thank you!" exclaimed sammy, turning aside. "we don't want any reward." "oh, all right," said the miser, and with a sigh of relief he put the cent back in his purse. "boys have too much money now-a-days as it is." he shuffled off, followed by the indignant glances of the lads. "isn't he the limit!" murmured frank. "he sure is," agreed bob. "you want to stop your fooling, bob," advised sammy. "you nearly got us into trouble." "all right--i'll be good," promised the fun-loving bob. but his chums knew that it would be only for a short time at best. however, they were used to it now. the three soon forgot the little happening with the miser, in their hurry to get home and find out if they could go camping on pine island. school would close for christmas in a day or so, and there was much to do to get ready. it was no easy matter for the boys to get their parents' consent to the trip. they had to "tease" very hard. but their plan of getting mrs. blake to put in a good word for them was not in vain. "of course you ought to let the boys go," she said, when she called in turn on mrs. bouncer, mrs. brown and mrs. haven. "my brother will be delighted to see them, and he'll take the best of care of them. it will do them good. they're only boys once, and they have studied well this term." so it came about that permission was given. the boys were to take along plenty of warm clothing. as for food, mrs. blake said her brother had plenty in his cabin. she had written that the boys were coming, and he had laid in a good stock of provisions. "hurray!" cried sammy, when the matter was settled, "we can go!" arrangements were made, and jed and his larger chums promised to take the three boys to the island on the ice-boat. the lake was frozen over thickly now, and there was no danger. school closed, christmas came, with all its joys, and two days after the holiday the little party of three, in charge of the older boys, set off on the ice-boat. it was a fine sunny day, though cold, and there was a good wind, so they were only a comparatively short time in getting to the upper end of pine island. as they neared the dock in front of the cabin where mr. jessup had his camp, sammy and his chums kept a bright lookout. none of them admitted as much, but they were all thinking they might see the mysterious hermit. "there's your friend, i guess," said jed, as the ice-boat came up into the wind, and headed for the dock. "that's mr. jessup waving to you. i know him." a tall man, with a gun under his arm, was standing on the edge of the little pier that extended out into the frozen lake. "yes, that's him," said sammy, who knew the hunter from the way in which mrs. blake had described her brother. "i wish we were you chaps," spoke jim eaton. "you'll have no end of good times here." "that's what they will," added hank. but neither they, nor sammy and his chums, dreamed of the queer, as well as good, times in store. the ice-boat came to a stop, the three small boys got off, and the craft veered away again. "well, boys, glad to see you!" called mr. jessup, cordially as he met them. "welcome to camp mystery!" chapter viii the old mansion sammy brown and his chums looked queerly at one another. then they glanced at mr. jessup. he smiled as he peered at them from under his shaggy eyebrows. "camp mystery, did you say?" asked sammy, wonderingly. "that's what i said," was the answer. "but don't get frightened, i don't believe the mystery will hurt you." "is there really a mystery?" asked sammy, eagerly. "is there a--a ghost--or something like that?" mr. jessup laughed heartily. "no need to ask your name," he chuckled. "you're sammy brown? my sister told me all about you." sammy blushed. "well--er--well," he stammered, "i only thought----" "no harm done at all!" went on the hunter, still laughing. "my sister said one of you boys was always on the lookout for something strange, like buried treasure, or a lost diamond mine. well, we haven't got either of those things on this end of pine island, whatever they may have down below. but that's how i guessed your name, sammy. "and now let me see, you ought to be bob bouncer, by rights," and he looked at bob with his head on one side. "how about it?" "that's my name," admitted the owner of it. "i thought so. then of course, as you're the only one left," he said to frank, "you're mr. haven's son." "how did you guess my name?" asked bob. "oh, my sister said bob was the one with a twinkle in his eye that meant mischief. you've got it, so you're him. i hope you don't cut-up too much. i don't mind sitting down on a pin once in a while, but i don't like to find mud turtles in my bed----" "i don't do any of those things!" cried bob, in confusion. "no, i s'pose you don't, but it's just as well to warn you," and by the merry twinkle in mr. jessup's eyes the boys knew he was only joking. "now then," he went on, "forward for camp mystery! got all your luggage?" "all we need, i guess," answered sammy. each of the boys had a good-sized valise. "but what makes you call your place camp mystery?" asked the lad. "your sister didn't say anything about that." "no, for it's only lately that i've had occasion to call it that. you see----" but mr. jessup was interrupted by a crashing sound in the underbrush at one side of the path, and from the bushes there was shaken down a shower of the light snow that had fallen the night before. "look out!" cried frank, starting back. "maybe it's him!" added bob. "don't run!" advised sammy. mr. jessup stared in surprise at the three lads, but before he could ask them the reason for their strange remarks there burst out from the bushes a fine hunting dog, who ran straight for the man, wagging his tail in delight. "oh, so there you are, maybe!" exclaimed mr. jessup. "i was just wondering what had become of you." "is that your dog?" asked sammy. "did he make that noise?" inquired frank. "yes. what did you think it was--a ghost?" mr. jessup wanted to know. once more he looked strangely at the boys. "we--we thought," began bob, and then he glanced at sammy, as if asking him to explain the thoughts of his chums. "oh, you thought maybe it was the mystery; is that it?" mr. jessup wanted to know. "no, it isn't that. the mystery, if that's what i am to call it, doesn't make that much noise. it's a very quiet sort of a mystery; the one in my camp." the boys were puzzled. clearly there was more than one queer thing, to be gotten to the bottom of, on pine island. the dog was frisking about, soon making friends with the boys. "quiet now, maybe," cautioned the hunter. "we can't scare up anything to-day. down, sir!" "is--is his name maybe?" asked bob, thinking there might be a joke attached to the animal's title. "it is," said mr. jessup. "you see i call him maybe because when we go out hunting--he and i--maybe we'll have luck, and--maybe we won't. it's been mostly not, of late, though maybe my luck will change, now that you boys have come. "but come. tell me what you thought it was when you heard the dog make a noise in the bushes." "and then will you tell us what the mystery is?" asked sammy. "of course. i'll tell you first, if you like. to be brief i've been missing things from my camp--food mostly, though the other night one of my best blankets was taken. and the funny part of it is that i can't get a trace of the thief. things disappear when i'm away from camp, and sometimes when i'm asleep. it's all quite strange, so that's why i call this camp mystery. i wish i could find out who is at the bottom of it." sammy was eager to relate his story now. "perhaps we can tell you!" he eagerly exclaimed, when mr. jessup nodded to show that he had finished. "it must be the hermit who's taking your things." if he and his chums expected mr. jessup to show surprise at the mention of the hermit they were disappointed. mr. jessup only shook his head. "so you've seen him, too," he murmured. "he's showing himself more often of late. i hope he doesn't get into trouble." "who?" asked frank. "the hermit." "oh, then you know him?" asked sammy. his expected surprise had amounted to nothing. he was rather disappointed. "oh, yes, i know him," admitted the hunter, "but that isn't saying i know what he's up to. that part is queer, i admit." "who is he?" asked sammy, and he briefly told how they had encountered the strange old man, with his white hair and beard. "well, his name is franklin addison," answered mr. jessup, "and he has been here for some time. just when he came i don't remember, but i know i ran across him one day, and he ordered me off the island. of course i didn't go, owning considerable land here. so i stood my ground, and explained matters. "then mr. addison grew more reasonable. he told me he had come to live here to be away from the world, and he showed me a little hut he had made for himself, on a small piece of land he said was his. a poor enough place it is, but he seems to like it. since then, though we haven't met often, we have been better friends. i let him alone, and he lets me alone. he lives about a mile from here, in a lonesome place. "what he is doing here i can't make out. maybe he's here for his health. there are some folks, you know, who believe in getting off alone like that, and living as much out of doors as they can." "i thought maybe he was the mystery," explained sammy, "and that he had been taking your things." "no," answered the hunter, "mr. addison wouldn't do a thing like that. he has often asked me for food, and i have given it to him. then again he has given me money to buy things for him when i go to the mainland. he isn't the thief, i'm sure." "maybe it's a bear--or some wild animal," suggested bob. "i wish it was!" exclaimed the hunter. "if it was maybe we could get it--maybe and i. but there are no animal tracks, and anyhow the biggest beasts here on pine island now are foxes. no you'll have to guess again, boys." "well, it will give us something to look up," said sammy. "we can solve that mystery, and the one about the hermit, too." he was quite delighted over the prospect, as his chums could easily tell by the light in his eyes. give sammy a mystery, or put him on the trail of buried treasure, be it ever so small, and he was happy. "well, come on to camp mystery," suggested mr. jessup. "you must be hungry--i know i am." with maybe, the dog, running on ahead, and the hunter and the boys bringing up in the rear, the little procession started off along the snowy trail. they went on for perhaps a mile, when, through the trees, the boys caught sight of a large house--a mansion in size. "is that your cabin?" asked sammy. "it's big!" [illustration: "is that your cabin?" asked sammy.] "no, my shack can't compare with that in build," answered the hunter. "that's an old deserted mansion. it used to be a sort of hotel, or boarding house, but it hasn't been used as such in a good many years. it didn't pay. "i'm a sort of care-taker of it, and i have one or two rooms fitted up that i use when my shack gets filled. but the rest of the place is deserted, except for the bats and rats." the boys came to a stop in front of the old house. it was bare and gaunt, and looked lonesome. on most of the windows the sagging shutters flapped dismally. somehow there seemed an air of mystery about the place. sammy brown's spirits rose. "fellows!" he cried, "maybe the mystery is in here!" chapter ix sammy's queer find "ha! ha!" laughed mr. jessup. "my sister was right about you, sammy! you're always on the lookout for something odd." sammy was a little put out by the attention he had drawn to himself. but for all of that, he was not going to back down. "well," he said, "i only thought that if queer things had been going on around your camp, mr. jessup, maybe the person who had been taking your things would be hiding in here." "so you're sure it's a person, and not a ghost; eh?" asked the hunter, with a smile. "i don't believe in ghosts," declared sammy. "good boy! neither do i. but i'm sorry i can't agree with you that the mystery is in this old mansion." "why?" asked sammy, who liked to stick to a point. "because the hermit and i, so far as i know, are the only ones on this part of the island. if there was anyone else here maybe would have routed him out long ago; wouldn't you, maybe?" the dog barked, and wagged his tail. but sammy brown was not satisfied. the old mansion, that had been used for a hotel, when the upper part of pine island had been a summer resort, looked strange enough to hide any sort of a mystery, and the boy made up his mind he would get at the bottom of this one. "we've got two things to do while we're here," sammy told himself. "one is to find out who has been taking mr. jessup's stuff, and the other is to find out what the hermit is doing here." instead of being worried over the seemingly hard work, sammy brown was delighted. it gave him a chance to do something, and this always pleased the lad. "well," said mr. jessup, after a pause, "there's no need of staying here unless you want to. better come on to my cabin, and we'll have a meal. then you can unpack, and get your bearings. are you warm enough?" "oh, yes, indeed!" exclaimed frank. "mother made me put on my heavy clothes." "well, it's a good idea, for it often gets quite chilly on the island. now then, forward march!" sammy hung back a little. "what's the matter?" asked mr. jessup, looking at him. "do you see anything?" "no," was the answer, "but i'd like a chance to go through that deserted mansion." "oh, you'll get it all right enough," the hunter promised him. "i've got to straighten up the few rooms i use in a day or so, and you boys can help. "you see," he explained, "i'm expecting a company of gentlemen up in about two weeks to stay a few days, and there'll be more of them than i can keep in my cabin. so i've got to use a few rooms in the old mansion. i'll have to clean them up a bit though, first." "maybe we'll be in the way then," suggested bob. "bless your heart, no! they're in no hurry to come, and i'm going to give you boys a good time first, just as i promised my sister i would. you did her a good turn, and this is the only way i can pay you back. "so don't worry. stay as long as you like, and you'll have all the chance you want, sammy, to go through the old house. you won't find anything, though, i'll wager." sammy said nothing, but he made up his mind that if there was anything in the deserted mansion that would solve the mystery he would find it. a short time later mr. jessup's cabin was reached. it stood in the midst of a grove of trees, and through them a glimpse could be had of the frozen lake. this part of the island was separated from the portion where the boys had played robinson crusoe by a wide stretch of marshland. "which way is the hermit's cabin from here?" asked sammy, when he and his chums had put away the clothes they had brought in their satchels. "right back of here," answered mr. jessup. "but i wouldn't advise you to try to find it alone. there's a bad, swampy bog near it, and you might get mired." "wouldn't it be frozen over now?" asked frank. "no; and that's the funny part of it. that bog never freezes, even in the coldest weather. it's down in a sort of valley, and it's protected. so keep away from there unless i'm with you. there's another reason, too, for not looking up mr. addison." "what is it?" asked sammy, while the other boys waited eagerly for the answer. "well, he's a queer sort of man," went on mr. jessup. "he doesn't like company, and he even objects to me, sometimes, though i seldom bother him. just how he would take to you boys i don't know." "he didn't take to us at all the first time he saw us," spoke bob. "i should say not!" cried frank. "he ordered us away." "and we went--in a hurry," added sammy. "yes," remarked the hunter, with a smile. "then i'd give him a wide berth. i don't just know what his rights are on this island. i know he doesn't bother me, and he keeps off my land, except when he wants to borrow something, or have me buy food for him. so i don't bother him, and i'd advise you boys to do the same." "all right," answered sammy. he did not exactly promise, and the truth of the matter was that he made up his mind to find out more about the queer hermit, as well as about the mystery and the deserted mansion, as soon as he could. and his chums felt the same way. "well, anyhow, we're here!" exclaimed sammy, a little later, while they sat about a campfire in front of the cabin, and ate the meal which mr. jessup got ready. "we're here, and we're going to have some fun!" "that's what we are!" cried frank. "what can we do first?" "well, i'm going to do a little hunting for rabbits this afternoon," said mr. jessup. "you boys can come along, if you like." "fine!" cried sammy. "i wish we had guns and could hunt," said sammy. "you're a bit too young for firearms," said the hunter. "later on, when you grow up, you can have 'em, and i'll show you how to shoot." with this the boys had to be content, though it must be confessed they looked on with eager and envious eyes while mr. jessup got his gun ready for the little expedition. maybe, the dog, as soon as he saw the preparations, frisked about in delight. he barked, and ran to and fro from the cabin, as if asking everyone to hurry. "all right, old fellow," said mr. jessup, soothingly. "we'll soon be with you." pine island, as i have said, was a large one in the midst of rainbow lake. years before, many years, when only the indians roved about that part of the country, it had been part of the main land, so scientists said. they had located a reef in the lake, and their explanation was, that, through the raising of the waters of the lake, the point of land became surrounded by water, and was made into an island. it had happened suddenly, and many large, wild animals, as well as some smaller ones, had been trapped there. in time the wild animals, such as deer and bears, had been killed off, and were never replenished. but the small game, such as rabbits, squirrels, opossums and raccoons, were still rather plentiful. the island was protected by game laws, now, so that the supply was not killed off. then, too, there was some valuable timber on the island, and mr. jessup cut that in the summer when there was no hunting. he floated it down to fairview where he sold it. off through the snow-covered woods started mr. jessup and the boys, with maybe frisking about here and there, trying to scare up a rabbit or a partridge for his master to shoot. for a time luck was poor, and then some pheasants were flushed, and mr. jessup brought down two fat ones. "hurray!" cried bob. "now we'll have a fine dinner!" later on the hunter got two fine rabbits, and oh! how the boys wished they were big enough to have guns! "i'm coming up here every hunting season, as soon as i'm old enough to shoot!" cried frank. "so am i!" exclaimed sammy and bob. as he did not shoot game to sell, and as he had enough for present needs, mr. jessup, as all good hunters do in such cases, ceased the use of his gun. with his rabbits and pheasants on his back he led the boys on the return trip. as they came to the old mansion, sammy asked: "could we go in now, mr. jessup, and look around?" "i guess so," he answered. "but don't stay too late. it gets dark early now, you know. i'll keep on to my cabin." eagerly the boys entered the old deserted house, mr. jessup letting them take his key. as he had said, they found several rooms fitted up with beds, and a few pieces of furniture. these were the apartments used by those of the hunting parties who could not find bunks in the cabin. "now let's begin at the top of the house, and work down," proposed sammy, when they had looked about the lower floor. "maybe we can find something of the mystery." "maybe--the dog--yes," laughed bob. "oh, you just wait!" exclaimed sammy. "i'll find something yet." but it did not seem that he was going to, at first. room after room was deserted, the once gay wallpaper hanging in mouldy strips. broken shutters flapped in the wind, and there was ruin on all sides. in some rooms were bits of broken furniture, and in others only heaps of rubbish. "i shouldn't like to stay here," said bob, with a little shiver. "me, either," added frank. they were up in the top story now, and had found nothing. "well, i suppose we may as well go down," spoke sammy, in disappointed tones. "there's nothing here." "unless it's in one of those secret rooms you read about," said bob. "this mansion looks old enough to have one of those." sammy did not reply. he was looking at a spot on the wall, and suddenly he put forth his hand and pressed on a carved bit of moulding. to his surprise, as well as to the surprise of his chums, the wall seemed to slide away. there was a rumbling sound, and a hole came into view. then, as the boys' eyes became used to the gloom, they saw that they were looking into a room of the existence of which they had never guessed. "look!" cried bob excitedly. "sammy's found it--the secret room!" "yes, and see what's in it!" cried sammy, as he pointed to a heap of odd-looking objects in one corner. "fellows, maybe this is the mystery!" chapter x the mysterious room the boys hung back for a moment on the threshold of the room sammy had so strangely discovered. truth to tell they were a little afraid to enter, and no one could have blamed them. for surely there were some queer looking objects in the secret apartment. that it was a secret room, intended to be hidden from the ordinary person going through the old house, was plain. as one looked at the wall, before sammy had pushed on what must have been a secret spring, it did not seem different from the rest of the building. there had been a little piece of carved wood sticking out, and this must have worked on some springs and levers to slide back the hidden door. "say, this is great!" cried sammy, delighted at his discovery. "it sure is," agreed bob. "how'd you come to do it?" "i just happened to," answered sammy. "i saw that carved wood bulging out, and it looked as though it was meant to press on. so i did." "you're a great one!" cried frank. "you're all the time talking about finding something mysterious, but it never before amounted to anything. this time you did hit it, sammy brown!" "and i guess you fellows won't laugh at me any more; will you?" "i won't," said bob, with a sigh, wishing he had discovered the secret room. "and look what's in there, fellows!" went on sammy. "maybe now we can find out how and who has been taking mr. jessup's stuff!" there was indeed an odd collection of things in the secret room. besides a bed, table and some chairs, there was on the floor, and on the wall-shelves, some tubes, with shining pieces of glass in the ends. there were tin boxes, springs, long pieces of wire, black wooden boxes, and many other strange things. one of the tubes, with a glass in the end, seemed to be pointed directly at the boys, like some strange gun. "come on, let's go in!" urged sammy. "let's see what those things are." for a moment his two chums looked at him, and then frank said: "do you think it's safe to go in?" "why not?" asked sammy. "well, that door might suddenly slide shut while we were in there, or there might be a false bottom to the floor, and we'd drop through, or something like that," suggested bob. "huh! you're as bad as you say i am, in thinking up things!" cried sammy. "i say let's go in. we can put a stick, or something, across the sliding door, so that can't go shut on us." "well, maybe that's all right," agreed bob. "but it sure would be hard luck if we got caught in here. no one would ever know where to find us." "that's right," admitted sammy, and, for a second or two, he was almost ready to give up the adventure. but his desire to see what the strange things were was so strong that he decided, by taking care, it would be all right. "oh, come on, fellows," he exclaimed. "let's take a chance! i'll fix the door." they found a piece of a broken shutter which they wedged across the sliding doorway so that, even if they, or someone else, accidentally touched the hidden spring which sent the door to and fro, they would not be trapped. "there, i guess that's all right," cried sammy. "now come on in!" but bob still hung back, though sammy stepped across the door sill. "well, what's the matter now?" asked the discoverer of the hidden room. "i'm thinking that the floor might give way," faltered bob. "nonsense!" exclaimed frank, taking sides with sammy. "it must be solid, or how would it hold up the tables, chairs and the other things? i'm going in." bob would not be left behind, in the mysterious old house, so he followed his chums into the room. they advanced cautiously, and listened closely. there was no clicking sound, that might tell of hidden machinery. "pshaw! it's all right!" exclaimed sammy, presently. "now to see what those things are." "who do you s'pose put 'em there?" asked frank, as they advanced toward the odd collection of things on the table. "counterfeiters!" exclaimed sammy, promptly. "counterfeiters!" cried frank. "what do you mean?" "just what i said," answered sammy, with a calm smile, as though he knew it all. "this is a hidden place where some men have been making false coins, and maybe bad paper money too." "you mean money that's no good?" asked bob. "sure," replied sammy. "money that looks good, but which isn't--counterfeit money. i've read a lot about it. fellows, we have discovered a counterfeiters' den!" sammy's chums looked rather frightened. it did seem as though they had stumbled upon some strange "den." "well, if counterfeiters work here, where are they, and where is some of the false money?" asked bob. "i'd like to see some." "pooh! you don't s'pose they'd leave it around loose; do you?" asked sammy. "they go out to spend it. that's probably where they are now. we'd better hurry and look around, and then we can go back to town and tell the police!" frank looked as though he did not quite agree with sammy. it was often this way with the excitable small chap. he saw some things and imagined the rest. but in this case it was different. he had really discovered a secret room, and this was more than his chums had done. perhaps, after all, he was right about the counterfeiters. the boys advanced farther into the room. a nearer view of the strange tubes, with the glass in the ends, showed the latter to be large and bulging, like the lens of a bull's-eye lantern, or an automobile lamp. attached to the tubes were black boxes, with a number of springs and levers fastened to them. "ha! i know what these are!" cried frank. "they're telescopes, that's what they are. this isn't a counterfeiters' place at all. it's where one of those men live who look at the stars--astro--astor--oh, you know what i mean," he added quickly. "astronomers," said bob. "that's what it is, sammy." "it is not!" declared sammy, quickly, bound not to give up his sensational idea. "those may be telescopes all right, but if they are, the counterfeiters use them to look and see if the police are coming." "say, maybe that's right," agreed frank, with a look of admiration at sammy. "i never thought of that." "pooh! i did!" exclaimed the lad who had found the secret room. he was not going to lose any chance of showing off, now that he had the opportunity. "that's what they are--telescopes for spying out when the counterfeiters are at work." there were several small windows in the secret room, and they were rather high up from the floor. in fact sammy and his chums had to drag out boxes to stand on, in order to see above the sills. they paused a moment in looking over the strange apparatus to glance at the furniture in the room. as i have said, there was a bed, a table and several chairs. the bed did not look very nice, being covered with old blankets and some cut-up bags for covers. but it appeared to have been slept in, and was not actually dirty. in fact it was no worse than the place where the boys had slept when they were wrecked on the other end of pine island in the summer. "i wonder if they live here all the while?" spoke bob. "i guess they stay here when they're not away getting rid of the bad money," said sammy. "they may come back any minute. we'd better be getting out of here!" "let's look around a little more," proposed bob, who was getting braver now. "what can you see from the windows?" the boys looked out. the windows of the secret room gave a view of only a dense mass of trees, and it was plain that this was the reason no one had ever found the apartment before. that side of the old mansion was opposite a deep and seldom-visited part of the woods. "well, we'll look at the counterfeiting machinery a little more, and then we'll go," suggested sammy. "we'd better tell mr. jessup about this, and he can get the police after these fellows." this seemed good advice to his chums, and they went back again to the table and shelves where the apparatus was spread out. they now examined it all more closely. "better not touch anything," advised sammy, as bob put out his hand to examine one of the tubes with glass in the end. "why not?" was asked. "because you might get a shock." "a shock? how do you make that out?" "why there's some electric batteries attached to the things," said sammy, pointing out the dry cells in their red pasteboard boxes. "that's right," agreed frank. "they're the same kind of batteries jerry grow has in his motor-boat. and they can give you a fierce shock, too." "what, those little things?" asked bob, in surprise. "sure," spoke sammy. "you see the batteries aren't so strong in themselves, but when you run the current through a production coil----" "induction coil--not production," corrected frank. "well, induction coil then," went on sammy. "when the current from the electric battery goes through that, it gets stronger, and it sure does hurt." "i know it does," agreed bob, "for i got stung once on jerry's boat, when he was putting in some new batteries. oh, i won't touch these!" look as they did at the strange apparatus, the boys could not understand what it was for, unless, as sammy said, it was used for making false money. of course the chums had never seen any machinery for that purpose, and had no idea what was necessary. but sammy's idea appealed to them. "i guess we'd better be getting out now," said frank, after a bit. "i shouldn't like to be caught here." "me either!" agreed bob. "let's go." the boys started out of the mysterious room, excited over their strange find, sammy in particular. this trip to pine island was going to be more sensational than their previous one. they were sure of that. "what'll we do about the door; leave it open?" asked frank. "no, we'll close it," decided sammy, "that is if we can. then the counterfeiters won't know we've been here, and they'll come back to their den, and we can help the police capture them." "that's the way to talk!" cried bob. "you're all right, sammy!" and then something happened. how it came about none of the boys knew, but sammy admitted afterward that he must have touched one of the wires, or springs. at any rate there was a blinding flash, a great cloud of white smoke shot out, and a loud boom. [illustration: there was a blinding flash.] "an explosion!" yelled sammy. "they're shooting at us!" cried bob. "come on--get out of here!" gasped frank, as they made their way through the blinding and choking vapor to where they imagined the secret door to be. chapter xi the strange hermit "come on, fellows, this way!" "no, over this way!" "i tell you the door's here!" thus cried bob, sammy and frank as they stumbled about in the mysterious smoke-filled room. they banged into the bed, tripped over chairs, and slammed into the table. "look out, don't go near those things again!" warned sammy. "we won't--if we know it!" panted frank. "where is that door?" "maybe--maybe the explosion slid it shut!" cried bob. this thought caused terror in the hearts of the boys until sammy with a joyful cry, shouted: "it's all right! here's the door still open! come on!" out they rushed, following sammy's lead, for the smoke had now cleared away enough for them to see in the dim room. they never paused to take away the piece of broken shutter that held open the secret sliding door, or panel in the wall. they had no desire, now, to leave things as they had found them, in hopes that the mysterious person, or persons, who used the strange room, would come back, unsuspecting, and be caught. all the boys cared about now was to get away. down the attic stairs they rushed, and they never paused until they were safely out of the old house. then, some distance off, the fright left them, and they halted to look back. "what happened?" panted sammy. "it was an explosion," decided frank. "no, those counterfeiters must have come back and shot at us," gasped bob. "go on! you're worse than sammy," said frank, who was more calm than his chums. "it was some sort of explosion. maybe it was powder the men left there, or it might have been some of the chemicals they use, in whatever they do, whether it's making bad money, or something else. anyhow it was just an explosion. there was no one in that room but ourselves." "well, i guess that's right," agreed bob, when he had thought it over a bit. "but who exploded it?" "maybe i did," admitted sammy, slowly. "i know just before that flash and puff came, i touched one of the wires on those telescope things. there was a click, and it went off--all at once!" "i should say it did," spoke frank. "it went off fast enough." "and there was an awful lot of smoke!" added bob. "well, i'm glad we're out of the place," said sammy. "come on, now, it's getting late, and mr. jessup may be worried about us. we'd better go tell him about what we found." "and then get the police after those counterfeiters," said bob. "they had no right to explode stuff at us that way." "well, they may claim we had no right to go in their room," went on frank, "but i guess they won't--that is if we get them. well, come on." "i'll tell you what let's do," proposed sammy. "let's see if we can locate the windows of that room from the outside. we might want to point out to mr. jessup where they are." "that's a good idea," agreed frank. but it could not be done, for the boys found it impossible to get through the thick underbrush on that side of the old mansion. they might have managed it in broad daylight, but it was now getting dark, and they did not want to take any chances. "the best thing we can do," said sammy, "is to go to mr. jessup right away, and tell him about what happened. he'll know what's best to do." to this frank and bob had no objection, and with a last look at the queer old house, the boys found the trail leading to camp mystery, and hurried along it. on the way they talked over what they had seen and what had happened to them. try as they might, they could not explain it. sammy was sure they had discovered a counterfeiters' den, but neither frank nor bob would admit that this was positively so, though they agreed that it all looked very strange. frank did not say so, but he kept thinking that so many queer things which sammy had discovered had turned out to be only commonplace after all, that now he feared this one would, also. still he had to admit that the finding of the secret room was rather strange. "there's the cabin!" exclaimed sammy, as they came in sight of it. "yes, and there's maybe, the dog, but i don't see any signs of mr. jessup," spoke bob. "i guess he's inside, getting supper," suggested frank. "i hope he is--i'm as hungry as one of the bears that used to live on pine island." "so am i," admitted bob. "i'd like some nice hot pancakes, the kind mr. jessup makes, and some of his baked potatoes." "don't talk about it--i'm so hungry!" laughed frank. they kept on toward the cabin. maybe rushed out to meet them, barking and wagging his tail, to show how glad he was to see them. but mr. jessup did not appear. somehow a sense of fear came over the boys. they did not know why, but the strange experience they had just gone through had made them nervous, and not seeing mr. jessup at once, added to their fears. "i wonder where he can be?" asked sammy, looking around the cabin. there was no sign of their friend. "maybe he's off hunting," suggested frank. "why, he just came back from a trip," spoke bob. "i guess you forgot that." "i sure did," admitted frank. "but so many things have happened in the last hour that it's no wonder. there's the game he shot," and he pointed to the rabbits and the birds. "yes, and there's a note on them!" cried sammy. "fellows, it's for us. look it's addressed to the 'fairview boys.' i'll read it." which he did quickly enough. the note said: "dear boys: i have been called over to the mainland to see my sister. she was taken suddenly ill. i will be back before long. don't worry, and get the best supper you can. i know you can cook it. peter jessup." for a moment the boys felt much disappointed, and not a little alarmed. then their spirits rose. "well, it's too bad mrs. blake is sick," said sammy, slowly, "but i guess we can manage without mr. jessup. we sure can get up a good meal. there's plenty of stuff." "and we'll have roast pheasant and stewed rabbit!" cried bob, who was fond of eating. "no, we'd better leave them until mr. jessup gets back," suggested frank. "i don't believe he'd like us to touch his game. he'll probably be back before it gets very late." "and maybe he'll be hungry too," said bob. "we'll cook enough to save him some." "then let's get right at it!" suggested sammy. "those counterfeiters will have to wait," and he laughed. all the boys were feeling better now, especially since they were in their own camp. and if mr. jessup was not there, they had good old dog maybe, who frisked about, glad of the company of the boys. it must have been hard for him to stay behind when his master left. sammy and his chums were soon busy over the meal. they had been camping before, several times, and were getting to be quite expert. one made the fire, another got the meat and potatoes ready, while frank opened a can of baked beans to warm in a frying pan over the stove, the fire being made there instead of outside, though later the boys intended to kindle a camp blaze in front of the cabin. "well, this is something like!" exclaimed sammy, as they sat about the table, after supper, the lamp glowing on their shining faces. "that's right!" said frank. "it's nice and cozy in here," agreed bob. they had kindled a fire outside, and sat about that for a while, waiting for the sound of mr. jessup's return. then as it grew later, and colder, they went inside. "he may not come until nearly midnight," said sammy. "oh, well, we won't sit up for him," suggested frank. "i'm tired and sleepy. i'm going to turn in soon. maybe will stand guard for us, won't you old fellow?" the dog barked his answer. a fire was kindled on the hearth, and the boys sat about this for a while, talking over what had occurred since their arrival at camp mystery. then, as they were very sleepy, they locked up, leaving maybe stretched out before the glowing fire, and turned into the bunks. contrary to their expectations, nothing happened all night. in fact they did not wake up until morning, when the sun was streaming into the cabin. then sammy jumped up, looked at the clock, and cried: "after eight; and mr. jessup isn't home yet!" "maybe his sister is worse," suggested frank. "let's get breakfast, and then we can decide on what to do." they made a good meal, and then, after talking matters over, they made up their minds that the best thing to do would be to take a walk about the island. if they saw no signs of mr. jessup by noon, they planned to go over to the mainland, and perhaps give up their camp at mystery, to go home. "for, though we'd like to stay here alone, first rate," said sammy, "our folks might not like it, or think it safe. they let us come because they thought mr. jessup was going to be with us, and if he isn't, we ought to go home." "i s'pose so," sighed bob, "but it's mighty jolly here." "even with the old hermit, and the counterfeiters," spoke frank. "oh, the old hermit never will bother us," declared sammy. "and maybe the counterfeiters have been gone a long time." "and maybe mr. jessup will send someone to stay with us, if he can't come back himself," went on bob. "then we could stay all right." "say, that would be fine!" cried frank. "it may happen, too. we'll wait a bit about going back." they decided this would be a fair thing to do, and, after putting the cabin to rights, after their morning meal, and planning what they would have for dinner, they set out for a tramp about the island, maybe the dog going with them. they went on for half a mile, when bob, who was in the lead, suddenly stopped, and called out: "there's somebody moving over there!" "over where?" asked sammy. "there," answered bob, pointing to a clump of trees, at the foot of which was a bank of snow. "i just saw a man." "maybe it's mr. jessup," spoke frank. "i hope so," murmured sammy. "i'd like to get after those men who live in the secret room." and then, as the boys watched, the figure of an old man came out from a clump of bushes. the man had a long white beard, and white hair, and as he came into a little opening he looked in the direction of the boys. "the old hermit!" whispered frank. "there he is!" and, as the boys looked, the aged man, about whom there seemed to be such a mystery, shook his fist at them, and then disappeared behind a clump of bushes. chapter xii into the drift "that sure was him!" "yes, he's the old hermit!" "i wonder what he's up to now?" in turn sammy, bob and frank spoke, as they looked toward the place where the aged man had disappeared. they could still see the bushes shaking as he forced his way through them. "i wish it had been mr. jessup," said sammy, and he could not help sighing a bit. "yes, we need him," added bob. "but we'll do the best we can. if he doesn't come by night, i s'pose we'll have to go back home." "and i sure will hate to do that," put in sammy brown. "maybe there'll be a way out." for a moment the boys looked at one another, and then at the spot where the hermit had vanished. maybe barked once or twice, and then began running about, as he had been doing ever since he came out with the boys, hoping perhaps to scare up a rabbit. sammy was doing some hard thinking. his eyes blinked fast, as they always did when he had several ideas going through his mind at the same time. suddenly he exclaimed: "fellows, are you with me?" "with you? in doing what?" asked frank. "in following that old hermit? i want to see where he goes." neither bob nor frank answered for a moment. "well, he's probably going to his cabin, or cave, or whatever he lives in," bob finally said: "we know about where it is, and i don't see any good in following him. he might get mad at us." "he probably would," said sammy. "but getting mad wouldn't hurt us. i'd like to see where he goes." "why?" asked bob. "i have a certain reason," went on sammy. "do you know, fellows, the hermit may be the--counterfeiter!" "what!" cried bob. "do you mean that?" inquired frank. "well, i'm not sure, of course," went on sammy. "but he might be, you know." "yes, of course," laughed frank, "and the time we thought we had struck a bear here, it might have been one, only--it wasn't!" "oh, well, of course anyone can make a mistake," said sammy. "and i'm not saying i'm right. only it's worth trying; isn't it?" "well, maybe so," replied frank, slowly. "all i want to do," went on sammy, "is to follow the old hermit, and see what he does. if he goes toward the place where we found the secret room, and the queer things, we'll know he has something to do with them." "maybe," put in frank, with a laugh. he did not always agree with sammy. "oh, of course, i'm not saying for sure," went on the other. "but will you come?" "i don't mind," spoke frank, after a few moments' thought. "but we'd better not go too close." "that's what i say," added bob. "he might try to harm us." "we've got maybe with us," said sammy, boldly. "i'm not afraid." and so the boys decided on sammy's plan, little thinking what would come of it. they could no longer see the hermit, but they thought they could trace which way he went by following the tracks in the snow. "besides, we have the dog with us," added sammy, "and he can follow. he can track the hermit just like he does a rabbit." the boys went on cautiously. they did not want to get too close to mr. addison, who, though he was an old man, might be one who was very easily made angry, and who might work some harm to them. in fact they already knew that he lost his temper easily. for perhaps half a mile they followed the tracks of the aged man through the snow. this was easy to do since he tramped over a place where the white crust was unbroken by other footsteps. the dog, too, led them by sniffing at the trail on the ground. but they had had no sight of mr. addison since he had disappeared into the bushes after shaking his fist at them. "he isn't going toward the old house," said sammy, after a bit. "no, he's heading in the wrong direction for that," added frank. "maybe he's going to his own cabin." "if he does," spoke sammy, "we won't follow him there." the boys were now some distance away from camp mystery. they had occasional glimpses of the frozen lake, but they had not seen any figure bearing a likeness to mr. jessup, skating over it. the hunter was probably still with his sick sister, they thought, and they did not quite know what to do. "look out for yourselves here, fellows," said sammy, as they came out into an opening in the woods. "what's the matter--did you see the hermit?" asked frank. "no, but there's a big cliff here, and we might slip over." "let's have a look," suggested bob, pressing forward with frank to where sammy stood on the edge of a cliff which was about ten feet high, going down steeply into a little valley. suddenly, as the boys were looking over into a big drift of snow below them, they heard a noise behind them. there was a rush of feet, and maybe, the dog, barked furiously. then the harsh voice of the hermit cried: "follow me, will you? i'll teach you to do that! you'll be sorry you ever tried to find out my secret!" before the boys could defend themselves, or make a stand, the furious old man rushed at them. with extended hands he pushed bob over the cliff into the deep bank of snow below. "look out!" yelled frank, as he saw his chum disappear. "hey! what are you doing that for?" demanded sammy. "i'll show you! i'll teach you to follow me!" snarled the old hermit. "down you go! all of you!" he pushed frank over the cliff also, the boy struggling to keep his balance. but over he went, head first. [illustration: he pushed frank over the cliff also.] "don't you dare touch me!" cried sammy, getting ready to defend himself. yet he knew he could do nothing against the angry hermit. "i'll fix you!" cried the old man. "you let me alone!" pleaded sammy. "sic him, maybe!" he cried, to the dog. indeed the hunter's dog needed no urging. at the first sign of the old man maybe had rushed at him. now he was tugging at his coat-tails as though to stop him from pushing the boys over the cliff. but the man was strong, and paid no attention to the dog, dragging him along over the slippery snow. "there you go!" cried mr. addison, and with that he shoved sammy down into the big snowdrift. "there!" muttered the hermit, with a hard smile on his wrinkled face. "now i guess them boys won't find out my secret!" and he walked away into the woods, the dog barking after him. as for the fairview boys, they were more frightened than hurt. true, they had been pushed down some distance, but they fell into a soft bank of snow, and, except that it got down their necks, and up their sleeves, as well as into their boots, they were in no danger. it was like falling into a feather bed. "whew! what happened?" gasped bob, floundering about. "i guess we happened--or it happened to us!" said frank. "where's sammy?" "here i am," cried that small hero. "he pushed me, too." "say, he ought to be arrested!" exclaimed bob, angrily, as he flopped about in the snow. "what did he do it for?" "said we were following him," answered frank, as he wiped the snow out of his face. "well, i guess we were, all right," admitted sammy. "but he had no right to be so mean." "where did he go?" frank wanted to know. "i--i didn't stop to look," admitted sammy. "it all happened too quick for me." "same here," laughed bob. "now i wonder if we can get out of here?" it was not as easy as it seemed at first, for the little valley into which the boys had been pushed by the angry hermit was filled with snow, and they sank in it above their waists. but they floundered on, and were slowly making their way out. they were getting quite tired, however, and might have sunk down in the snow, and have taken severe colds, had their struggle lasted too long. suddenly bob cried out. "hark!" he called. "it's a dog barking," said sammy. "yes, and it sounds like maybe," added frank. "see, there he is!" cried sammy, "and he's got someone with him!" "it's mr. jessup! hurray, now we're all right!" yelled bob, with delight. "now we'll show that hermit what's what!" chapter xiii helping the hermit mr. jessup, with his dog floundering in the snow ahead of him, came toward the boys, who were still stuck in the snowbank, though slowly getting out of it. "what's the matter?" cried the hunter. "what happened to you? you ought not to go in a place like that!" "we couldn't help it!" exclaimed sammy, with a laugh. "we were pushed in!" "pushed in?" exclaimed mr. jessup. "what in the world do you mean, sammy?" "help us out, and we'll tell you," suggested frank. "we're tired out trying to wade through the deep snow." "i guess that's right," admitted mr. jessup. "i had better be helping you instead of talking. come on, maybe!" with big strides the hunter came on. to him the drift gave little trouble, though for the small boys it was all they could do to wade through. but now they had help. mr. jessup had a pair of snow-shoes strapped to his back, though the crust was not thick enough to allow him to use them. they would come in useful as snow shovels, though, and he at once took them for that purpose. "here you go!" he cried to bob, who was nearest him. "catch one of these shoes and help dig a path. i'll dig one to meet with yours, and when you get out here, where the snow isn't so deep, you'll be all right." "hurray!" cried sammy, glad that everything was more pleasant now. "is your sister better?" asked frank, while bob used the snow-shoe as a shovel, the hunter doing the same with the one he had. "yes, much better," was the answer. "i was sorry i had to stay away all night, and i kept thinking, up to the last minute, that i could get off and come back to you. that's why i didn't send anyone to keep you company. "and finally, when my sister was well enough for me to leave her in the care of some neighbors, it was too late to start for pine island. but i made up my mind that you boys would be all right, and i didn't worry. you were all right, weren't you, except for what happened to you just now?" "yes," said sammy, eager to tell the story of the mysterious hidden room, and the strange things in it, "yes, we're all right. nothing happened during the night, and we got along fine. maybe was good company." "i thought he'd be, and that's why i made him stay when i was called away," said the hunter. "but he did want to come with me." while the boys and mr. jessup were talking he and bob used the snow-shoes as shovels, so that, in a few minutes, the boys were out of the drift, and on level ground where the snow was only up to their knees. "now then," said mr. jessup, with a grin, as he looked at them, "i'm ready to hear your story. how did it all happen, and who pushed you into the drift?" "the hermit!" cried the three boys at once. "what! you don't mean mr. addison?" asked the hunter, in surprise. "that's who it was," said frank. "well, why did he do such a thing as that?" asked mr. jessup, in surprise. "i've known him for sometime, and, except that he was a bit odd now and then, he never acted that way. i always thought him quite gentle, except that he would order people away from his cabin. did you do anything to him?" for a moment the boys did not answer, and then sammy, knowing that it was best to tell everything, said: "well, we followed him, that was all. we wanted to see if he was going to the big house." "you followed him; that was all?" "yes, sir." "and what did he do?" "well, he got out of sight, and we were trailing him," explained bob. "then we came to that cliff and we were looking over, down into the pile of snow, when, all of a sudden----" "he rushed out on us from the bushes," continued frank, "and he----" "pushed us down, one after the other," said sammy, taking up the story. "and he said he'd teach us to follow him and try to find out his secret." "hum, he said that; did he?" mused mr. jessup. "well, i'm afraid he must be out of his mind. i've been thinking that for some time, and now i'm sure of it. he must be crazy, or he wouldn't do such a thing as that. he must have been quite angry at you, and it's lucky he did nothing worse than shove you into a snowbank. "now i advise you boys not to go near him again. if you see him as you walk about the island, don't notice or speak to him. that will be the safest way. so you followed him, and he thought you were after his secret; eh? he hasn't any secret, as far as i know. poor old man, he certainly must be crazy. i'm sorry for him. but, boys, did you have any special object in following him?" again the three chums looked one at the other. "you'd better tell, sammy," said frank, at last, "you made the find, you know." "what's this?" asked mr. jessup, in some surprise. "have you boys a secret, too?" and he looked curiously at them, while maybe frisked about, barking and unable to understand why his master would not take after a rabbit he had driven from its burrow. "yes, we did find something strange in the old house," said sammy. "we discovered a secret room, and in it is an outfit of counterfeiters, mr. jessup!" "and they shot at us!" cried bob. "and you ought to have seen the smoke!" added frank. the hunter looked from one to another of the boys, as if unable to understand what they were saying. he might have thought they were playing a joke on him, but their faces were too serious for that. "secret room!" he murmured. "counterfeiters! they shot at you!" "yes, and we thought the hermit might be the counterfeiter, so we were following him to see if he went to the old house," said bob. "whew! this is getting worse and worse!" exclaimed the hunter. "i guess you'd better begin at the beginning, boys, and tell me all there is to tell. old mr. addison a counterfeiter! i can't believe it." "this is the way it was," began sammy, and then he told of the exploration of the old house, after the hunt of the day before, and how, most unexpectedly, he had pressed on the spring that opened the panel or door of the secret room. "and you should see the things in it!" put in bob, as by turns the boys described the queer instruments. "and then that flash and boom!" cried frank. "it was terrible!" "it must have been," admitted the hunter. "but i own up that i am puzzled. i never knew there was a secret room in the old house, and i thought i'd been all over it. as for those things you tell about--well, i guess i'll have to look at 'em myself." mr. jessup did not say so, but the truth of the matter was that the boys had talked so fast and so excitedly, and had interrupted each other so often, that they had not given a very clear account of the things they had seen. then, too, as is the case not only with boys, but with grown-ups, no one ever sees the same thing the way another person would. the boys gave as good descriptions as they could of the queer objects in the secret room, but each one put in something a little different, until it was no wonder that mr. jessup was puzzled. "now i'll tell you what," he said. "we'll go back to camp mystery and figure this thing out. i guess i didn't name it out of the way when i called it 'mystery,' for it's more mysterious than ever now. "but we'll get to the bottom of it sooner or later. i'll have a look at the things in that room. maybe i can find out who has been taking my grub. you weren't troubled while i was away last night! were you?" "no," answered sammy, "nothing happened. we slept fine." "i thought you would be all right," went on the hunter. "i came skating over to the island a little while ago, and went right to my cabin. you weren't there, but pretty soon in came maybe, and he acted so strange that i was afraid something had happened to you. he pulled at my coat, and would run on a little way, and then stop and bark, just as if he was telling me to follow him, and he really was, as it happened." "he must have gone for help for us!" cried frank. "that's what he did," replied the hunter. "he led me right here, and i can tell you i was a bit scared when i saw you floundering in the snow. i'm glad you're all right." "sure we're all right!" cried sammy, "and i'd like to go to the old house right away, and find out what all those things mean. if that is a counterfeiting den we can have the men arrested; can't we?" he asked. mr. jessup laughed. "well, sammy," he said, "of course if there are counterfeiters here they ought to be taken in, i s'pose. but i never heard of any, and there's been no bad money circulating around pine island or fairview, as far as i know." "i told him they weren't counterfeiting things," said frank. "you just wait!" exclaimed sammy, mysteriously. he was sure his find was going to turn out big this time. "well, we'd better get back to the cabin and prepare to look into this thing," suggested the hunter. "i want to think it over a bit. by the way, was there any sign of anybody having been in that room lately?" "you couldn't tell--the bed looked as if it had been slept in," said bob. "but there must have been someone hiding there, or else how could he have shot at us?" mr. jessup shook his head. "i'll admit it's a puzzle, so far," he said. "but after i see it i may be able to explain it all. come along." they headed back for the cabin, the boys talking on the way of the many things that had happened since coming to pine island. mr. jessup said he had heard no special news in fairview. he had not sent any word to the parents of the three chums, fearing they would worry about the boys staying alone all night. "and it turned out better that i did not," he said. they were nearing the cabin of camp mystery, and mr. jessup was pointing out to the boys a trail that led from his place to the cabin of the hermit. "but i wouldn't advise you to follow that trail after dark, unless you know it pretty well," he said. "why not?" asked bob, always looking for reasons. "because that bog, that i told you about, is on both sides of the trail at certain places, and it's dangerous. i often wonder why old mr. addison built his cabin so near the bog. it's true there are some good springs of water near it, but i'd rather be on higher ground, and carry my water a way. so don't travel that trail except in daylight, boys." they promised to be careful, and walked on, looking curiously back toward the dangerous bog. suddenly frank, who was in the lead, raised a hand to order a halt and silence. "what's up?" asked sammy. "listen!" said frank. all heard a deep groan. "someone's there!" exclaimed bob, pointing to a clump of bushes just ahead, and to one side of the trail. "maybe it's a--bear!" faltered sammy. "nonsense!" exclaimed mr. jessup. "that's a human voice. hello, there!" he cried. "who are you? what do you want? has anything happened? answer!" "maybe it's the counterfeiters," whispered sammy. the dog was barking excitedly. "come here!" commanded mr. jessup, and then, as the groan sounded again, he went forward. parting the bushes he looked ahead and cried out: "boys, it's mr. addison--the hermit, and he seems to have fallen and hurt himself! come here and we'll help him!" the three rushed forward. there on the ground, under the bushes, where there was no snow, lay the old man. he seemed to be unconscious and it was his queer breathing that made the groaning sound. "boys, see if you can't get him out of there, into a more comfortable place," said mr. jessup. "i'll run to the cabin for a folding stretcher i have, and i'll also get some medicine. see if you can get him out. i'll be back in a few minutes." chapter xiv the boiling spring mr. addison was a full-grown man, but he was quite old, and not very heavy. in fact he was so light that the three sturdy boy chums easily carried him out from under the bushes to a cleared place along the path. the hermit only moaned as he was moved, and remained unconscious. "let us take off our coats, fellows," suggested sammy. "we'll spread them out on the snow, and make a bed for him." the day was quite warm, so the boys would not be likely to take cold from removing their coats, and soon they had made a more comfortable place for the aged man than the bare ground on which he had fallen. "i wonder what could have happened to him?" said bob. "he must have fallen, and hurt himself," spoke frank. "but neither his arms or legs are broken, as far as i can tell." "i guess it's his head," remarked sammy. "probably that's what makes him senseless. i wish mr. jessup would hurry back." "and to think that a little while ago he pushed us into a snowbank!" murmured bob. "he couldn't do it now." "no," said sammy, softly. "poor old man! i guess he's had lots of trouble." indeed, as the aged hermit lay there on the boys' coats, which they had partly folded over him, his face showed many wrinkles of care and suffering, as well as of age. truly, he did not seem to have had a very happy life, and in their hearts the boys easily forgave him for what he had done to them. "here i am!" exclaimed mr. jessup, as, followed by his dog, he came up the path. over his shoulder he carried a folding stretcher, consisting of two poles with a broad canvass piece in between. on this the hermit could be placed, and, by means of the handles, he could be easily carried. "i'll give him a little spirits of ammonia first," said the hunter. "that is good when a person has fainted. then we can decide what next to do. it may be that we'll need a doctor." he mixed some of the ammonia in a glass, with a little water, and managed to get some between the lips of the old hermit. but it did little good. the aged man only moaned feebly and did not open his eyes. "i guess we'd better carry him to his cabin," said mr. jessup, after a few minutes. "it's farther than it is to camp mystery, but if he wakes up, and sees himself in a strange place, it may have a bad effect on him. we can easily carry him to his own cabin." this they did, the hunter taking one end of the stretcher, and two boys taking turns at the other end. in this way they were soon at the place where the hermit lived. the cabin was rough enough on the outside, but the interior was clean, and nicely arranged. the poor old man lived very simply. he was placed on his bunk, and then mr. jessup, who knew a little about medicine, tried to bring him to his senses. it seemed to be of no use, however, and finally the hunter said: "boys, i think i'd better skate over to the mainland, and bring back a doctor. i wouldn't like poor mr. addison to die. you're not afraid to stay here with him; are you? i'll leave maybe with you." "afraid? of course not!" cried sammy. it was broad daylight. why should they be afraid? true, the mysterious old mansion was not far away, and the strange things in the secret room had not been explained. but the boys made up their minds they would not be alarmed. "i'll come back as soon as i can," said mr. jessup. "if he wakes up you might give him a drink of water. or you could make coffee. you know how, and i see he has the things here. yes, a good strong cup of coffee might help him. now don't worry. maybe, you're to stay with the boys." the dog whined, and evidently wanted to go with his master, but he obeyed well, and, with a bark of protest, he lay down on the cabin floor. mr. jessup, who had his skates with him, started for the lake, intending to skate to the mainland after a physician. he could come back with the doctor in a cutter, for the ice was thick enough to bear the weight of a horse. left to themselves, the boys sat in the cabin with the old, unconscious man. he breathed heavily but did not open his eyes. once in a while he groaned. "i wonder if we hadn't better make the coffee," suggested bob, after a bit. "if he could take some of that he might feel much better." "good idea," said sammy. "let's start a fire. it's cold in here, anyhow." there was a stove and an open fireplace, the latter in the other room of the cabin. some logs were set aglow on the hearth, and a roaring blaze kindled in the stove. the kettle was put on, and soon a fragrant pot of coffee was ready. [illustration: the kettle was put on.] the boys were talking over whether they had better not try to get some of the hot beverage between the set lips of the aged man, when there came a sudden knock on the cabin door. "who's that?" whispered frank, startled. "it can't be mr. jessup, back already," remarked bob. "no, he'd walk right in," said sammy. the knock was repeated. "see who it is," spoke bob. "i'll go," said sammy, and he went to the door. he saw a young man standing there--a young man he had never seen before, as far as he knew. the stranger's face was a pleasant one, and he smiled at the boy. "well," said the visitor, "i don't know you, and it's rather odd to see mr. addison having company. is he in?" "yes," said sammy, "but he's hurt." he noticed that the caller had a pair of skates in his hand, showing how he had reached the island. "hurt!" exclaimed the young man. "and just when i come to bring him good news! let me see him, please." he quickly entered the cabin, and bent over the form of the hermit on the bunk. the boys looked on in wonder. who could this stranger be? the young man seemed to know something about the duties of a doctor, for he rapidly felt about the aged man, for signs of broken bones, and then, finding none, passed his hand over the sufferer's head. "ah, there's the trouble," he said. "he's had a bad knock there, but it doesn't seem to be serious. i think he'll soon come around. you have coffee?" and he sniffed the air. "good and hot!" answered sammy. "let me have some," suggested the young man, and some was given him in a cup. holding the aged man up in one arm, the young man managed to get some of the hot coffee down his throat. it did good at once, for mr. addison opened his eyes, looked strangely about him, gazed in seeming wonder at the boys, and then looked at the young man who was supporting him. "it's all right, uncle frank," said the stranger. "you're all right. you had a little fall, and these boys must have brought you here. but you're not hurt to speak of, and i bring you good news." "good--good news," faltered the old man. "you bring me good news, ed?" "yes, the very best. the land is now yours. i have here all the papers. you don't need to live here any longer to claim it. you can come home with me. i have the deeds to the land." "and the spring--the boiling spring--is the medical spring mine?" gasped mr. addison. he seemed to be getting better very quickly. "the boiling spring is yours," the young man assured him. "now take it easy--everything is all right." "oh, i am so glad--so glad!" murmured the old man, sinking back on the bunk. "now i won't have to worry about anyone taking my secret away from me. oh, everything is all right now," and he sighed in contentment. "take a little more coffee," urged the young man whom the hermit had called ed. "it will do you good." it really seemed to, for soon the aged man was able to sit up again. he looked at the boys strangely, and they did not know what to do or say. they wondered if the hermit would try to drive them away. "are--are you the boys i pushed over the cliff?" he asked. "yes," replied sammy, and he wondered how the old man could explain his queer action. "well, i--i'm sorry i did it," went on the hermit. "you see i was a bit excited. i thought you were following me, trying to steal my secret. but you can't get it now. i own the land. you have the papers--the deed, ed?" he asked eagerly. "yes, uncle frank, here they are," and the stranger gave a bundle of documents to the old man, who eagerly looked them over. "yes--yes," he said. "it's all right. i have a clear title to the boiling spring. and now i'll explain. but in the first place, how did i get here? i seem to remember falling down----" he paused for an answer. "you did fall," said sammy. "mr. jessup and we boys found you under the bushes, and we carried you here. he has gone for the doctor." "hum, yes. that's very good of him--and you, especially after the way i treated you. but i hardly knew what i was doing. but i don't believe i need a doctor. i'm all right." he really seemed so, and was able now to walk slowly about the cabin. "i remember what happened," he went on. "i was going down to the shore to see if you were coming, ed, for you had promised to be here to-day, when i slipped and fell. i must have struck my head on a stone, for it all got dark, and i didn't remember anything else until i saw you giving me coffee. all the rest is a blank." "well, you're all right now, uncle frank," was the answer. "i suppose i'd better tell you who i am," the newcomer went on to the boys. "my name is edward houghton, and mr. addison is my uncle. i have been doing some legal business for him for some time, and now it is all finished." "and the medical boiling spring is my property!" cried the hermit. "yes, it is your property," said his nephew. "and you and i will get rich!" the old man cried, enthusiastically. "i hope so," spoke mr. houghton. "you certainly have suffered very much to get your rights. but it is all over now." the boys were quite puzzled by this talk, but it was soon to be explained. there was the jingle of sleigh bells from the direction of the lake, and soon was heard the approach of footsteps. "it's mr. jessup!" cried sammy. and so it proved. he had brought the doctor back with him in a cutter. "i'm much obliged to you, mr. jessup," said the old hermit, "but i don't believe i need the doctor's services." "however, as long as he's here, better let him look you over," suggested mr. houghton. the medical man said, beyond a hard blow on the head, which had made him unconscious for a time, mr. addison was not hurt. "i'd stand another blow on the head for the sake of my fine spring," said the hermit, and he laughed. he really seemed quite a different man now. his face was kinder, and the boys were no longer afraid of him. "i guess you'll have to explain," suggested mr. jessup. "what is it all about, and what do you mean by your boiling spring, mr. addison?" "come with me, and i'll show you," said the hermit. with slow steps he led the way to a little glade, not far from his cabin. there the boys saw a strange sight. in spite of the fact that it was winter, and that snow was on the ground, there was a spot of green grass and ferns to be seen, surrounding a boiling and bubbling spring of clear water. and from the water a little cloud of steam arose. "there she is!" cried mr. addison. "there's my boiling spring, and the waters of it are the best thing in the world for rheumatism. i know, for i've cured myself, and cured others. i discovered the spring by accident, and i worked hard to get title to the land it's on. now i have it, and i'm going to bottle those waters and sell 'em. i'm going to be rich! i'm not going to be a hermit any longer," and he seemed ten years younger. chapter xv the end of camp mystery "well," said mr. jessup slowly, "this may be all clear to you and your nephew, mr. addison, but it's like greek to me. if you wouldn't mind explaining----" "of course i'll explain," said mr. addison eagerly. sammy hoped something would be said to clear up the mystery of the strange room in the old mansion. "first of all," said the hermit, "i want to tell you boys how sorry i am that i pushed you into the snow. i was all excited when i saw you following me, and i really didn't know what i was doing. you see i had been expecting my nephew for some time, and when he didn't come i was afraid something had happened so that i couldn't get the spring i had tried so hard for. so first i want to beg your pardon." "oh, that's all right," said sammy, easily. "it was as much our fault as it was yours. we had no right to follow you, and really we weren't hurt a bit." "i'm glad of it," said the old man. "well, to begin at the beginning. some months ago, when i was walking over this island, i found this boiling spring. it was in a place few people would visit, and i guess that's why it was never talked of before. for a good many years i have had the rheumatism, and i've tried all sorts of cures. just by accident i thought of trying this spring water, as i could easily tell that it had some sort of medicine in it. "i took some home, and in a few days after taking it i felt better. then i made more tests, and i was sure i had found a cure for some of the worst kinds of rheumatism. then i decided to try to get possession of the land on which the spring was. "this was not easy, as the title was in dispute. but i got my nephew to help me. in order that no one else would claim the spring, i decided to put up a cabin near it, and live on the land until i could buy it. this i did, and i became a sort of hermit. i was so afraid someone would discover the secret of the spring that i drove away anyone who came near. in that way i suppose folks began to think i was crazy, and a sort of crank. "but i did not care. i wanted to get title to that spring, for i knew i could sell the waters and get rich. and now i can. my nephew has brought me the final papers, and the spring is mine. i am going to form a company, and bottle the boiling water. of course it won't stay hot, but it will be just as good, for it can be heated before being swallowed. "so i'm no longer the hermit of pine island. i'm going back where i belong, and i'll let others do the work. and i'll say this, mr. jessup, if ever you get the rheumatism you can have free all the water from my mineral spring that you want." "thank you!" said mr. jessup, with a laugh, "but i hope i'll never have the rheumatism. but if i do i'll use your spring water." "i had a hard time getting the final papers," said mr. houghton, "and that's what took me so long. but now, uncle, the boiling spring is yours, and you needn't worry any more." "how can it be hot water in the winter time?" asked bob. "well, that's one of the mysteries of nature," said the former hermit. "i suppose the waters must come from deep down in the earth, and the wise men tell us that inside the earth are raging fires. i don't know about that, but i do know my medical spring will cure rheumatism. and i guess now, everything is explained." "no, not everything," said sammy quickly. "eh?" asked the old man. "we found a secret room in the old mansion," went on sammy, "and it's a counterfeiters' den, i'm sure. we thought you were going there, mr. addison, that's why we followed you. "and while we were in there," sammy went on, "there was an explosion. we thought someone was shooting at us, and we ran out. that has to be explained yet." "that's so!" exclaimed mr. jessup. "i've got to look into that." mr. houghton laughed. "it won't take much of an explanation to do away with that mystery," he said. "if you'll come with me i'll show you all about it. i fancy you stumbled across one of my fads. will you come, uncle frank?" "no, i'll go back to my cabin," was the hermit's answer. "i'm going to pack up and go back to the mainland to live, now that my medical spring is safe." "then the rest of us will go," suggested the young man. they left the little glade where the hot spring made grass grow in the middle of winter, and soon reached the hermit's cabin again. he went in there, while sammy and his chums, with mr. jessup and mr. houghton, kept on to the deserted mansion, telling the hermit they would soon be back to look after him. the doctor, whom mr. jessup had brought, had gone back to the mainland in his cutter. "shall we go right in?" asked sammy, when mr. houghton and the others reached the old house, and prepared to enter. "of course--why not?" inquired the young man, with a smile. "well, i was thinking that the counterfeiters----" mr. houghton laughed. "i'll explain all that," he said. the place of the secret room was soon reached. it was just as when sammy and his chums had rushed away from it after the explosion that had so frightened them. the sliding door was still wedged back with the piece of shutter. mr. houghton went over to the table on which was piled the strange apparatus. he moved some of the wires and springs. "look out!" cried sammy. "you may get shot!" "no danger!" laughed the young man. "i fancy you boys set off the flashlight, and there isn't another." "flashlight!" cried sammy. "yes, that was what made the smoke and explosion," said mr. houghton. "you touched the spring that worked the electric battery, and the current set off some flashlight powder in a box. it did make quite an explosion, i fancy." "but what was flashlight powder doing up here?" asked mr. jessup. "i was trying to get some night photographs of bats," explained mr. houghton. "you see all this apparatus is just some photographic cameras, set to work automatically. i fancy i have the pictures of you boys on the plate, instead of the bats," and he smiled at the three chums. "photographs!" cried sammy. "cameras!" exclaimed bob. "aren't these things telescopes?" asked frank. "and isn't there any counterfeiting plant?" sammy wanted to know. "nothing half as sensational as that," answered mr. houghton, with a hearty laugh. "this is only my new apparatus for having animals take their own pictures." for a moment there was silence, and then sammy, in a queer sort of voice, murmured: "stung again!" all his mystery had vanished into thin air. "make animals take their own photographs; eh?" said mr. jessup. "that's rather odd." "oh, it is often done," said mr. houghton. "all you have to do is to set your camera in the woods after dark, near where you have noticed marks of a raccoon, muskrat or other wild animal. you put a string across the path the animal usually takes, and in the dark it runs into the string and breaks it. this sets off a flashlight which makes the place as light as day. the breaking of the string also opens and closes the shutters of the camera, and so the animal takes its own picture. i've been doing it for some time, and had good results. i left my cameras, flashlights, batteries and so on here, in the hope of getting pictures of bats, but i guess i'll have to try again." "so that's what it was that exploded," said sammy--"flashlight powder?" "that was it," said mr. houghton. "you see i happened to discover this secret room by accident. i was going through the old mansion one day, thinking it would be a good place to get bat pictures, and i found the secret chamber. so i fitted it up as a room where i could sleep when i had to. often i would take my cameras out in the woods and leave them there until nearly morning. then i would get up and go bring them in. i did not want to disturb my uncle so i stayed here. i fancy the secret room must have been built by the man who put up the old mansion, for his own use." "i think so," agreed mr. jessup. "he was a queer character anyhow. and to think i've been in and out of the old place so much, and never found the secret room!" "it was pretty well hidden," said mr. houghton. "well, i don't imagine i'll use it any more. i'll try for bat pictures somewhere else. besides, if my uncle's mineral spring turns out as well as he thinks it will, this place may become a summer resort, and the old mansion could be made into a hotel for people who want to take the rheumatism cure." "but there's one thing i don't understand," said mr. jessup, "and that is who took my grub." "i think i can explain that, too," spoke mr. houghton. "i had hired a young man to assist me, in my photographic work, but when i found out he was not honest i discharged him. i saw him come along one day with a strip of bacon, and a long pole with a hook on the end. he said he had hooked the bacon." "and so he had!" cried mr. jessup. "that was one of the pieces i missed." "the fellow must have stood some distance away from your cabin, and caught the string of the bacon in the hook on the pole," said the photographer. "that's why you never saw any footmarks." "then this is the end of camp mystery," said sammy, faintly. "that's right!" cried frank. "i told you there weren't any counterfeiters." "well, there might have been," returned sammy. and he wondered why the others laughed. but it was really the end of camp mystery. the hermit's secret had been the warm, medical spring, and now that he had full title to it he need not worry any more, nor drive away those whom he thought might try to cheat him out of the property. mr. houghton had explained the queer machines in the secret room, and had told how he used to photograph wild animals at night. a few days afterward he showed the boys how he set the cameras in the wood, with a string which the animals themselves would break, thus setting off the flashlight and taking their own picture. mr. jessup made some inquiries, and found out that the secret room in the old mansion had been built by the former owner of it. he had no particular use for it, but it was just a notion on his part to have it made. mr. houghton had accidentally discovered it, just as sammy had done. as for the young man who had taken things from mr. jessup's camp, he was not heard of again. after all, he had not taken a great deal, and his plan of using a long pole with a hook on it explained why he had never left any marks. he could reach in the window or door of the cabin when mr. jessup was away, and get what he wanted. he had been in the habit of staying in the secret room when mr. houghton did not sleep there. "well, as long as everything is explained, we may as well go back to camp," said sammy, when they left the old mansion. "yes, i guess so," agreed mr. jessup. "you boys are entitled to some fun after your hard work." "yes, and they're entitled to more than that," said mr. addison, a little later. "i owe them something for helping take care of me," and some time afterward, when the mineral spring company was formed, he sent each of the boys a nice present. "well, now we'll take it easy," suggested sammy, when they got back to the hunter's cabin, late that afternoon. "we'll go skating and coasting, and----" "fishing through the ice," added mr. jessup. "i've had that in mind for you for some time." "say, this trip to camp mystery is all right!" cried frank, with a laugh. "i wonder if we'll have as much fun as this next winter?" "more i hope," said sammy. "but summer will come before winter." and what the chums did the following summer may be learned by reading the next volume of this series, to be called "fairview boys at lighthouse cove; or, carried out to sea." in that we will meet all our young friends again. in the days that followed sammy and his chums had many good times. they roved about the island with mr. jessup and watched him at his hunting. they had many good meals, too. mr. addison left pine island, now that he had possession of the spring, and one of the members of the company he had formed took up a residence in the cabin. but there was no further trouble. the mystery had been solved. "come on for a skate!" cried bob, one afternoon. "we only have a few more days here." "that's right--and then school once more!" exclaimed sammy. and as the fairview boys are starting off on the glittering ice, we will take leave of them. oridin's formula by r. r. winterbotham the formula was a simple equation, but caddo had to have it--for knowing its answer meant he would rule the universe. [transcriber's note: this etext was produced from planet stories march . extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] oridin the recluse listened to the threat wirelessed from the spaceship that was hoving to in a landing orbit about the planetoid azair. "i've a bead on your atmosphere plant," said the snarling voice. "one false move and i'll blast it to star dust." oridin shrugged as he heard the words. one more fool had come to azair looking for the secret that the recluse of the asteroids was supposed to possess. "your threats are unnecessary, stranger," oridin replied in the microphone of his radio. "everyone is welcome here as long as he behaves. i have ways of dealing with those who don't." "i'm warning you," came the voice again, "that i will stand for no foolishness. i'll kill you if you try to resist." oridin smiled. "land, stranger, you need not fear me." the hermit arose and went to the galley of the warm little house that seemed to grow from the solid rocks of the tiny planet. he pressed a button, waited a second and then opened a small compartment. in the box was a steaming pot of coffee, freshly made by oridin's automatic cook. outside the transparent shelter, the air grew blue from the reflection of landing rockets. oridin glanced to the leveled surface on which the ship was coming to rest. he saw a turret training on the little house. oridin was not afraid; the visitor probably would be interesting. even a recluse can grow lonesome on a minor planet. a figure emerged from the spaceship. he wore an oxygen helmet, although oridin plentifully supplied the planetoid with artificial atmosphere from a small plant at the north pole. the stranger did not believe that oridin would not resist. again oridin smiled. deep in the rocks of azair were guns that could have blasted the visitor a thousand times, had oridin wished. but there was nothing clever about blowing a foe to pieces. the foe too often was killed before he sensed defeat. oridin enjoyed an equal battle, or even one against odds. [illustration: _"open up," caddo snarled, "or i'll blow my way in!"_] "open up! open up, i tell you, or i'll burn my way in!" demanded the visitor. "he's certainly not deceiving me as to his intentions," oridin decided. the recluse pushed a button on the wall, and a giant gate swung outward admitting the stranger. the fellow was as tall and as muscular as oridin himself, but the space suit and the gaping blaster he held in his hand made the visitor seem much more formidable. oridin himself was dressed in bell-bottomed slacks and a loosely fitting, slipover coat. his beard softened his countenance and made him seem quite gentle, except for a certain glitter in his eyes that seemed to warn that oridin loved a contest. and this would seem to be a deadly contest. oridin bowed. "you are welcome, stranger," he said. "take off your helmet, for the air is pure. put aside your gun, for i am unarmed and i do not intend to harm you." the stranger hesitated, uncertainly. "no tricks, oridin!" he warned. "tricks?" oridin laughed tauntingly. "you are not very confident for a man of your caliber. i've heard of you often, caddo velexis. they say you have conquered whole nations single-handed, and yet you are afraid of an unarmed hermit." "i'm not afraid of you," caddo said in a tone that hinted he was. caddo removed his helmet and holstered his blaster, but oridin noted that the terrestrial giant did not move the firing button to safety. "will you have some coffee?" oridin asked. "it will refresh you after your long trip, and you must have had a long trip, for we are in a very sparsely filled part of the sky." oridin lifted the pot and poured the brown steaming liquid into a thick, metal mug. caddo waved it aside. "i have no time!" "do not be alarmed," oridin said. "the patrol will not be near azair for three days." oridin sat down. his fingers felt under the arm of the chair where a series of buttons controlled other mechanisms in the room. caddo had relaxed his watchfulness. "in three days i'll be well toward the other side of the solar system," caddo said. oridin lifted his eyebrows. "toward the earth? you have undertaken something this time!" "yes!" caddo said. "it's the earth i am after! i have all i want of the outlying planets and planetoids. you can capture a hundred of them and be no better off than you were at first. but if you capture the earth, you can rule the universe." oridin touched one of the buttons. a tiny pinhole in the wall of the room seemed to blink. there was a blinding flash and the smell of burned leather permeated the place. * * * * * caddo gave a cry of alarm and sprang back, knocking over his chair. he was on his feet holding his blaster in his hand in a second. across the top of his helmet was a scorched streak. "you tried to kill me!" caddo screamed. "you dirty swine." oridin's lips parted in a smile as he looked without fear into the mouth of the trembling weapon. "don't underestimate yourself, caddo," he said. "the hot beam was only a warning--something to let you know that i could kill you anytime i wished. even now, before you could squeeze the trigger on the weapon, i could cause certain things to happen--no, no! you are safe, caddo--i could cause you to die if i wish, but you are interesting, a dangerous man. it would be a better accomplishment for me to give you a punishment you deserve." the fear that shone in caddo's eyes faded away. for a moment he watched oridin. then he laughed. "so it's that kind of a game, is it? i can play it too! your threats do not frighten me. nor am i afraid of your hot beam. look!" caddo thrust his arm forward into the path of the beam. there was a puff of smoke as the tremendous heat vaporized particles of dust on the leather sleeves. then nothing happened. "i have a neutralizing force, powered with a small battery in my clothing," caddo said. "foolishly, i did not have it turned on a moment ago. but you can't hurt me now." oridin shrugged. "i am still not afraid of you caddo. if you had come here to loot, you would have killed me long ago. but what you want is something you cannot gain by killing me. what is it?" "you are going to give me the secret that will make me the master of the earth, and the master of the universe," caddo announced. oridin poured himself a mug of coffee. "i knew you did not want gold, although azair is filthy with the stuff," he said. "but what secret have i that is so powerful?" "the _discovery_!" caddo said. "i have many." oridin nodded toward the wall, and the pinhole of light blinked out. "i want the secret of the universe!" caddo spoke tensely. "come! don't be so melodramatic," oridin chided. "the universe is full of secrets." "you're stalling. you know what i mean!" "i think i do," oridin agreed. "my erratic experiments have revealed a certain mathematical function, _j_, which theoretically opens the door to action without probability. is that what you want, caddo? the value of _j_?" "the mathematical bombsight!" caddo said. "it removes probability and makes certainty of everything. with my calculations based on certainty, i'll be fate itself! i can conquer the world, chain the universe and govern creation." oridin laughed quietly. "alexander, caesar, napoleon, genghis khan and hitler spoke those words and they were willing to bargain with the devil himself to make them come true," he said. "i suppose i am the devil, for i know the answer and i can tell you the answer--for a price." "you'll give it to me for nothing!" caddo patted the blister, now in the holster at his side. "is that your only offer?" oridin asked, still wearing an amused half-smile. "it is!" oridin rose and moved toward a safe under two clocks on the wall across the room. one of these clocks gave the terrestrial days, hours and minutes according to the general meridian time. the other registered the four-hour rotation of azair. "wait!" caddo halted oridin. "no tricks. give me the combination and i'll open the safe!" oridin turned to the space pirate. "the safe is unlocked. the formula is inside." caddo's eyes betrayed his suspicion. the most valuable secret in the world was in an unlocked safe! warily caddo stepped forward. he hesitated, wondering if even his neutralizing force was enough to protect him. "there's no danger. go ahead. help yourself," oridin urged. caddo was desperate. he touched the handle of the door. it was unlocked. he flung it open. inside the safe was a single sheet of white paper. caddo seized it eagerly. his eyes widened in amazement as he read: "the certainty of success in any course of operations, expressed in mathematical terms, represents the sum of all factors, beginning at the starting point, which must be described as _real zero_, and ending with the objective, also reduced to a real numerical value. the constant of certainty, _j_, can be the determining factor which leads an operation from the beginning to the objective." caddo read the paper and reread it again and again. "is this all of it?" he asked, turning to oridin. "every bit," oridin replied. "the formula is simple, like the one to determine the sum of an arithmetical progression--the first number of the progression plus the last number, multiplied by the number of terms in the progression and divided by two. in your case the progression lies between what you have and what you want. the certainty of getting it is the sum of all the factors." * * * * * caddo sat down in a chair at the desk. he seemed to forget his suspicions of oridin, who had placed a stack of paper beside him. caddo was engrossed in the formula and caddo, as a mathematician, knew that everything in the world could be expressed in figures. what would napoleon, or hitler, have given for this formula! "the beginning is _real zero_!" caddo spoke aloud. "which is different from a mathematical zero," oridin said. "i might say that zero, like absolute vacuum, never occurs. even if we have two apples and eat two of them the atoms of the apples continue to exist. in the formula you have a small fraction instead of zero. it serves the same purpose. if you multiply a number x by zero, the answer is zero. multiply a fraction approaching zero, . , , by another number and that number approaches zero too. if that number is a fraction it will be even closer to zero than our _real zero_. in fact, we are dealing with trans-zero numbers, just like the transfinite numbers discovered by georg cantor." "yes, yes!" caddo said eagerly. he picked up a pencil. he scribbled furiously. his objective was all of the power in the world expressed in ergs; all of the gold in the world, expressed in dollars; all of the land, expressed in acres; the people, in individuals. oridin moved softly behind him. a multiple-calculator made its appearance in the room. paper flew from under caddo's pencil. sweat poured from his space-browned face. the two clocks on the wall recorded the turning of the earth and the planetoid azair. caddo forgot about oridin. he forgot about everything except the figures that revolved in his brain. oridin moved out into the warm artificial atmosphere of his planetoid. he was a recluse again. he was alone. a momentary contact with the greed, and avarice of the human race had been wiped away. far out in space was a glow of rockets. a ship was going to land. it had seemed only a short time since caddo had landed. but that was three terrestrial days ago. this was the patrol. "i've a prisoner for you," oridin informed the captain. "it's caddo." "caddo! he's the no. universal enemy. man, you'll grow rich with the rewards offered on nine planets for his capture." "you can have the reward," oridin said. "take him away. he's a nuisance." they found caddo in the lounge of oridin's house chewing on a book of logarithms. his mind was gone. he could only babble figures. his fingers twitched with cramps from writing with a pencil and punching the keys of the calculating machine. every spark of vitality had been taken from his body. the batteries of his force armor had burned out. "what's the matter with him?" the captain asked. "he wanted too much," oridin replied. "i gave him a simple little formula for success, but the formula ceases to be simple as the definition for success grows more demanding. had he sought perfection, caddo would have seen that even this was unrecognizable, although the certainty was only halfway to infinity--" "sorry, mr. oridin, but i'm not a mathematician," the captain said. "there's nothing difficult in the formula. it proves that certainty is unrecognizable. you'll have to admit that a goal, to be reached has to follow a path and that path is determined by two points. the beginning is one and the second one makes the ultimate objective certain. therefore the second point is certainty. but certainty is unrecognizable--" oridin brought forth his formula and allowed the captain to read it. the patrol officer blinked his eyes and scratched his head. oridin wrote his formula out: j = (a + ) times infinity/ "_j_ is certainty, _a_ our starting point and is unity, or perfection," oridin explained. "our starting point is close to zero, but not zero. but for convenience we'll say that it's a fraction so close that we can call it zero. then certainty, _j_, is one-half of infinity, which you'll have to agree does not approach infinity and may be well within the realm of human comprehension, although we will not recognize perfection because we do not know what number is halfway to infinity. caddo overlooked the fact that he went further and further into the transinfinite with each number he added to his equation, for there are an infinity of numbers between any two whole numbers and any two fractions and their sum is always infinity." the patrol captain already was muttering to himself and oridin hurried him out of the house and into the patrol ship with his prisoner. after the space craft had gone, oridin returned to his living quarters and replaced his formula in the unlocked safe. he cleaned the litter made by caddo and sat down. once again, oridin was a recluse and he would remain so until someone else had a dream of conquering the universe.