"I mean Ditty and his gang of water rats," replied Tyke.

"You don't think that skunk would dare--" spluttered the captain.

"I think that one-eyed rascal would dare almost anything," answered Tyke. "And it struck me as barely possible that he might have come sneaking around to see what we were doing and perhaps run across Allen and Ruth. There's bad blood there, as you know, and it wouldn't take much to bring about a sc.r.a.p.

"Not that I think that has happened," he went on, "because it isn't likely that Ditty's plans are far enough forward yet for him to show his hand. Still I may be wrong. I tell you what I think you'd better do. You can git around faster than I can with this old game leg of mine. Suppose you run back to the sh.o.r.e and see if Ditty is hanging around there. If he is and everything seems shipshape we can leave him out of our calculations. Then we'll have to figure out what we're to do next."

It was grasping at straws, but in their utter ignorance of the real facts they had nothing but straws to grasp at. The captain set off hurriedly, while Tyke went once more around the mountain base in the forlorn hope that this time something tangible would come to reward his efforts.

Once he thought he heard something that sounded like shots and he stopped short in his tracks. His old eyes, keen yet, despite his years, looked eagerly around. But as far as his eyes could reach there was nothing to be seen, and he came to the conclusion that he must have imagined the sounds or that they were caused by some rumbling of the earth.

In a surprisingly short time, the captain was back, panting and winded by his exertions.

"Well," asked Tyke eagerly, "did you find out anything?"

"The men were all huddled down on the sh.o.r.e evidently scared out of their wits. I guess we can cross them off our slate. But how about you? Did you find any clue?"

"Nary a thing," answered Tyke dejectedly. "I thought at one time that I heard shots, but when I come to look it up there was nothing in it."

"We must find them!" cried the captain excitedly, pacing back and forth like a wild animal and digging his nails into his palms as he clenched his fists in anguish. "We'll go over every foot of this island. I'll get out every man on the ship and set him to work searching."

"I wouldn't do that--at least not yit," adjured Tyke, laying his hand on the captain's arm. "Of course we may have to do that as a last resort. But you know what sailors are, an' we don't want to have 'em cracking their jokes 'bout Allen an' Ruth going off together. Wait a bit. The day's young yet an' they may turn up any time of their own accord. In the meantime, we'll explore places that we haven't tried before an' mebbe we'll run across 'em. If everything else fails, then we'll turn out every man jack of the crew and go over every inch of the island."

To the agonized father, everything that savored of delay seemed intolerable, but he yielded to the wisdom of Tyke's suggestion and once more they started out in their desperate search.

CHAPTER XXV

THE LAKE OF FIRE

Drew was all animation in an instant at the new hope that sprang up within him with its offer of possible safety for his companion and himself.

"Why didn't I think of it before?" he repeated, his voice shaken with excitement.

"You didn't think of it before, because you were working like a slave.

No man can work like that and think of anything but what he is doing.

Oh, Allen, won't it be great if you are right?"

"I'm going to see if I am right," he replied.

"How can you tell?" she asked divining that he was fumbling at his pocket.

"In this way," he answered, drawing out the oilskin bag that contained his precious matches.

He struck a match and held it aloft.

At first the flame mounted straight up in the air. Then an instant later it was deflected and stood out at a distinct angle from the stick.

"See," cried Allen jubilantly. "There's a current of air in the cave.

It's too slight for us to feel, but the flame feels it. If we were sealed up utterly in the cave, the air would be still. Somewhere the air is coming in from the outside world and it's up to us to find out where."

"Thank G.o.d!" murmured Ruth tremulously.

In the sudden transition from despair to hope, they took little account of the difficulties they might have to overcome before they reached that other entrance--or the exit, from their point of view--which they had reason to believe existed. But as their first jubilation subsided somewhat, a soberer view began to thrust itself upon them.

Admitting that there was an exit, what guarantee had they of reaching it? Suppose a fathomless gulf barred their way? Suppose the pa.s.sage narrowed to a point too small for them to thrust themselves through?

Suppose when the coveted exit should at last be found it should prove to be in the ceiling of the cave instead of the side, and hopelessly out of reach?

But they quickly dismissed these dismal forebodings. Those problems could wait for solution until they faced them. The present at least was illumined by hope.

"Come along, Ruth," cried Allen gaily. "Pack up your trunks and let's be moving."

"Only too gladly," the girl responded, falling into his mood. "I never did care much for this place anyway."

But suddenly a reflection came to her.

"How are we to find our way in this pitch darkness?" she asked. "I don't know how many matches you have with you, but at the most they can't last long. And the time may come when a match would be more precious than a diamond."

Drew took out his bag again, and, taking the greatest precautions not to drop one, counted the matches by the sense of touch.

"Just thirty-two," he announced when he had counted them twice.

"Only thirty-two!" echoed Ruth. "And we may need a hundred and thirty-two before we get to the other mouth of the cave."

For a moment Drew pondered.

"You're right, as always, Ruth," he agreed. "We can't depend on the matches alone. We'll have to get something that will serve as a torch.

While I was digging, I remember I came across many branches of trees that had been carried down by the slide in its rush. We'll see if we can't make some torches out of them."

He set l.u.s.tily to work and soon had as many as ten good-sized sticks that promised to supply his need. He was afraid that not being seasoned wood they would prove difficult to light. But there proved to be a resinous quality in the wood that atoned for its greenness, and before long he had a torch that burned steadily though rather murkily.

"Eureka!" he cried waving it aloft.

"Good for you, Allen," applauded Ruth. "Now give me the rest of those sticks to carry and you go ahead with the lighted torch."

"I'll carry them myself," he protested.

"No you won't," she said decidedly, at the same time gathering them up in her arms. "You'll have the torch in one hand and you need to have the other free for emergencies."

He recognized the common sense of this, but found it hard to let her do it.

"It's too much like the Indians," he said. "You know that with them the buck carries his dignity, while his squaw carries everything else."

"But I'm not your squaw," slipped saucily from Ruth's lips before she could realize the possible significance of her remark.

"Not yet," replied Allen daringly, wanting to bite his tongue out a moment later for having taken advantage of her slip.