ply of food. Come
over to our camp, and we'll give you all you want!"

Tom had rushed forward, and was shaking hands with Mary's parents,
so unexpectedly met with, when Mr. Nestor called out:

"Come over here, Mr. Hosbrook. I want you to meet a friend of mine."

A moment later, the millionaire owner of the ill-fated RESOLUTE was
shaking hands with Tom.

"I can't understand it," Mr. Hosbrook said. "To think of meeting
other people on this desolate island--this island of earthquakes."

"Oh, please don't speak of earthquakes!" cried Mrs. Nestor. "We are
in mortal terror! There have been several since we landed in the
most terrible storm day before yesterday. Isn't it awful! It is a
regular earthquake island!"

"That's what I call it," spoke Tom, grimly.

The others of the larger party of refugees now came up. Besides Mr.
and Mrs. Nestor, and Mr. Hosbrook, there was Mr. and Mrs. Floyd
Anderson, friends of the millionaire; Mr. Ralph Parker, who was
spoken of as a scientist, Mr. Barcoe Jenks, who seemed an odd sort
of individual, always looking about suspiciously, Captain Mentor,
who had been in command of the yacht, and Jake Fordam, the mate of
the vessel.

"And are these all who were saved?" asked Tom, as he introduced his
two friends, and told briefly of their air voyage.

"No," answered Mr. Hosbrook, "two other boatloads, one containing
most of the crew, and the other containing some of my guests, got
away before our boat left. I trust they have been rescued, but we
have heard nothing about them. However, our own lives may not long
be safe, if these earthquakes continue."

"But did I understand you to say, Mr. Swift, that you had food?" he
went on. "If you have, I will gladly pay you any price for some,
especially for these two ladies, who must be faint. I have lost all
my ready cash, but if we ever reach civilization, I will--"

"Don't speak of such a thing as pay," interrupted Mr. Fenwick. "All
that we have we'll gladly share with you. Come over to our camp. We
have enough for all, and we can cook on our gasolene stove. Don't
speak of pay, I beg of you."

"Ah--er, if Mr. Hosbrook has no money, perhaps I can offer an
equivalent," broke in the man who had been introduced as Barcoe
Jenks. "I have--er--some securities--" He stopped and looked about
indefinitely, as though he did not know exactly what to say, and he
was fumbling at a belt about his waist; a belt that might contain
treasure.

"Don't speak of