is hand
and began to drag him toward the mouth of the cave.

Half an hour later two wild, troglodytic figures were giving vent to
their joy by capering and dancing about the floor of the cavern.

"Jean, you've struck it rich! You've found the source of the gold of
Kon Klayu!" Harlan shouted for the fifth time. "It's better than beach
mining! It's better than Shane ever dreamed! I know enough to venture
that this whole blessed little isle must have a base of igneous rock
and the formation of this south end, especially, is impregnated with a
network of gold-bearing dykes! Why, anyone could see that by the walls
of this cave!" He bent, scooped up a handful of sand, and with eager,
shining eyes watched while he spread it over his palm.

"Just imagine this hollow during one of our terrific sou'westers,
Jean," he went on, looking about him. "The monster billows crashing
into this cavern, rolling the boulders along the bottom, grinding them
along this gold-bearing formation! By Jove, the action is the same as
that in a stamp mill, almost! The gold is freed, becomes mixed with
the sands, and sooner or later is carried out and concentrated along
certain zones on the Island."

"But away goes all the mystery of our Island, too, Gregg!" Jean's
voice carried a hint of regret. "That accounts for the strange,
rolling sounds we used to hear during the storms, and for the giant
balls of stone, and for everything!"

They filled their pockets with samples of the sand to take home to
Shane, and ascended to the ledge. From thence, with the assistance of
Kayak Bill and the rope they mounted one after the other to the top of
the precipice.

The old man listened to their story of the cavern in silence, though
his eyes were glowing.

"By . . . hell, from what yore a-tellin' 'o me, children, you sure have
struck it rich!" he drawled at the end.

Jean threw her arms impulsively about his neck and landed a kiss on his
ear.

"We all have struck it rich, you old dear! We'll stake the whole
little Island of Kon Klayu, and if we can ever get to the States to get
an outfit, we'll come back here and work it."

Jean knew that any show of affection caused Kayak acute, wriggling
embarrassment. He backed away from her now, his cheeks fiery red. To
cover his momentary confusion his hazel eye impaled Harlan's ragged
back, which was showing the effects of his rapid slide down the cliff.

"Young man," he declared with slow solemnity