nd to the keg and sat down to think. Then for the first time he
looked at the sky and saw the sun faintly visible through the fog. What
a blessed sight it was! He had never known before how good the sun
could look to a poor, hungry, horror-struck mortal! Then he picked up a
shell, and pouring a little of the rum out of the keg, drank it. It had
a magic effect, for it brought back his strength and courage and a
realization of what he had discovered. In the dread experiences he had
just passed through, he had not comprehended what it meant to him. Now
he did.

He, alone on that haunted island, abhorred and shunned by all, had found
a fortune!

He drank a little more of the rum. Then he thought of his friends. Maybe
at that very moment they were nearing the island!

He quickly clambered out of the walled-in pocket, and looked over the
ocean. The fog was lifting, the wind rising, but no sail was visible. He
was still a prisoner. Once more he heard that strange bellowing coming
from somewhere beneath the island, but it had lost its terrors. He
thought of those skeletons in the dark cavern, and only felt curious to
know how those two human beings met their death. A thousand bulls, for
aught he cared now, might bellow all they chose, so long as they did not
show their horns above the rocks, and two or two dozen skeletons more or
less in the cave made no difference. He had met and conquered the ghost
of Pocket Island, and was himself once more.

He took one long look all around, where the white, crested waves were
rolling as far as the eye could reach; then at the sun now shining
bright and warm, and then returned to the cave. The entrance was half
under water, but the tide was falling, and he boldly waded in. He was so
eager now he could hardly wait to light a torch, and when once more
inside, he did not even stop to look at the hideous skeletons, but went
directly to the flat rock where the stacks of coin were; removed his
coat, heaped all he could carry upon it, and returned to the sunlight.
Wildly excited now, he carried his bundle to a flat shelf of rock near
where he had first descended into "The Pocket," emptied it and returned
for more. Three trips he made to secure his wondrous find, and when the
last mildewed and tarnished bit of money was secured, he took the pistol
and left the cave for good. Then, feeling a little faint and weak, he
sat down on the shelf beside his pile of gold and silver, and examined
the rust