t was wiped away now. The mad hunter
was John Ball, and with that thought burning in his brain Rod stopped
beside the fish--the madman's offering of peace--and turned his face
once more back toward the black loneliness of the pool.

Unconsciously a sobbing cry of sympathy fell softly from Rod's lips,
and he called John Ball's name again, louder and louder, until
it echoed far down the gloomy depths of the chasm. There came no
response. Then he turned to the fish. John Ball wished them to be
friends, and he had brought this offering! In the firelight Rod saw
that it was a curious looking, dark-colored fish, covered with small
scales that were almost black. It was the size of a large trout, and
yet it was not a trout. The head was thick and heavy, like a sucker's,
and yet it was not a sucker. He looked at this head more closely, and
gave a sudden start when he saw that it had no eyes!

In one great flood the truth swept upon him, the truth of what lay
behind the cataract, of where John Ball had gone! For he held in his
hands an eyeless creature of another world, a world hidden in the
bowels of the earth itself, a proof that beyond the fall was a great
cavern filled with the mystery and the sightless things of eternal
night, and that in this cavern John Ball found his food and made his
home!

CHAPTER XVII

IN A SUBTERRANEAN WORLD

When Mukoki and Wabigoon returned half an hour later the hot-stone
biscuits were still unbaked. The fire was only a bed of coals. Beside
it sat Rod, the strange fish upon the ground at his feet. Before
Mukoki had thrown down the pack of meat which he was carrying he was
showing them this fish. Quickly he related what had happened. He added
to this some of the things which he had thought while sitting by the
fire. The chief of these things were that just behind the cataract was
the entrance to a great cavern, and that in this cavern they would not
only find John Ball, but also the rich storehouse of that treasure of
which they, had discovered a part in the pool.

And as the night lengthened there was little talk about the gold and
much about John Ball. Again and again Rod described the madman's
visit, the trembling, pleading voice, the offering of the fish, the
eager glow that had come into the wild eyes when he talked to him and
called him by name. Even Mukoki's stoic heart was struck by the deep
pathos of it all. The mad hunter no longer carried his gun. He no
longer sought their