them, eyes
and mouth wide open. Unmistakably dead.

"Hole in the forehead," said Little Billy.

The nausea had Martin's stomach again. But he fought it back. His
mind searched for and immediately found the answer.

"When Ichi bit my arm, and I jerked it up and the gun went off. Yes,
that's it. And that--I'd forgotten about that fellow, Ichi sent him
aloft to explore. He must have been crawling back when I--when he was
struck."

"Good riddance," said Little Billy.

"Watch this bird a moment," commanded Martin.

He stepped forward, and, conquering his repugnance, put his arms about
the corpse and lifted it to the floor. Then, on second thought, he
knelt and removed the leather belt and sheath knife from about the
man's waist. He had remembered he was weaponless.

It was no easy task to boost the prisoner to the shelf, and thence
through the crack in the ceiling. Ichi was none too willing to
proceed, though he made no audible protest. But with Little Billy--who
went first--pulling from above, and Martin prodding and thumping from
below, the three finally negotiated the unhandy entrance.

They found themselves in a tunnel, much like the one below that
connected with the Elephant Head. But this shaft, when they got a
little ways into it, was dry, and the air was sweet. A cool, sweet
wind touched their faces, so they knew they were approaching blessed
daylight.

Little Billy went first, with the lantern. Martin brought up the rear,
and, with his hand on Ichi's collar, directed the latter's somewhat
faltering steps. Their way climbed sharply, then leveled; the tunnel
was as tortuous as the one below. They turned a corner and discerned a
bar of daylight cutting athwart the darkness of the passage. Another
turn, and they were on the threshold of a wide and lofty cavern, a
great room that was dimly lighted by a large, natural window in the
farther wall.

"Watch him!" Martin cried to Little Billy; and, deserting his
prisoner, he rushed forward to the opening.

He looked out over the beach and the sun-sparkled waters of the little
bay. This cave was a good forty feet above the beach. He looked down
on the vessel, which was but a few hundred yards distant; the flooding
tide had swung her stern to the shore, and her decks were plainly
visible.

At his first glance, Martin suffered a sharp stab of disappointment.
For nothing was changed. There, leaning over the taffrail, staring
shoreward, was the