growing faint, hot, and weary after an hour's walking at the edge of the
forest, they turned to retrace their steps, when Panton stepped upward
for a few yards to try the edge of a little slope of fine ash--for the
heat there was intense.

To his surprise the ashes into which he plunged his hands were quite
cool, and yet the air around was at times almost suffocating.

"Must be a downward draught from the mountain top," said Panton at last,
and then he looked sharply round, for Oliver had suddenly cocked his
gun.

"What is it?" asked the others.

"Look out. There's something or somebody tracking us just inside the
trees. I've seen the leaves move several times, but always thought it
was the wind."

"Hallo! Hark!" cried Drew, excitedly. "Don't you hear?"

It was nearly sunset, and the little party knew that they had about an
hour's walk before they could reach camp. The darkness was fast
approaching, but they stopped short to listen.

In vain for a few minutes, and they were about to start again, when the
sound that had arrested Drew's attention was heard plainly now by all--a
long, low, piteous cry as of some one in agony, and in the great
solitude of the mountain-side the cry was repeated, sending a chill of
horror through the bravest there.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

TOMMY SMITH'S GHOST.

"Must be one of the men," said Oliver, excitedly. "Come on."

"But that thing you saw below there among the trees?"

"We can't stop about that. It's some kind of great cat. I'll try
this."

He raised his gun and fired quickly in among the trees to scare the
creature, whatever it might be, and there came in response a snarling
yell, followed by a crashing, as of the animal bounding away through the
undergrowth.

Directly after there came from high up a second report, as if from a
minor explosion of the volcano, but it was evidently only the echo of
the gun.

There was another sound though, which was far more startling and
awe-inspiring, and made the three young men draw together and stand
gazing upward, waiting to find which direction would be the safest in
which to flee.

For, directly after the echo, there was a strange whispering noise as of
cinders sliding one over the other a long distance away and right up
towards the crater above their heads.

As naturalists they knew on the instant what this meant, and it struck
all in the same way--that it resembled the falling of a little hard
granulated ice in