e realised his son's intention;
but his warning came too late, for the final impetus had been given, and
the stone disappeared in the hole.

Mark looked up apologetically as his father and the major came closer,
and were listening to hear what would be the result, and expecting to
note a tremendous hollow-sounding splash from far below.

What seemed to be a long time elapsed before there was any sign, and
then with a roar up came the volley of water again so instantaneously
that they had only just time to flee to the other side of the basin to
avoid a drenching, possibly a scalding, while to the surprise of all
there was a dull thud. The water descended with its furious hissing and
gurgling, rose again to the top, and then, judging from the sounds, came
up less and less distances in its vast stony pipe, and then all was
silent once more, and they were gazing at the piece of rock Mark had
thrown down, now lying in the basin about three feet from the well-like
central hole.

"That's the way to make it spurt," said the major, laughing. "The hot
water-works don't approve of stones, Master Mark."

The men were delighted with the hot springs, and after the fashion of
sailors were pretty ready at giving them names according to their
peculiarities. One was "The Grumbler;" another "The Bear-pit." A
whistling hissing spring became "The Squealer." One that gurgled
horribly, "The Bubbly Jock;" whilst others were, "The Lion's Den," from
the roaring sound; "The Trumpet Major;" and the noisiest of all, from
which a curious clattering metallic sound came up, "The Bull in the
China-shop."

All at once the investigating party were aroused by a tremendous burst
of laughter, which came from behind a clump of bushes where the men had
gathered to watch the action of one of the smaller geysers.

The captain led the way toward the spot, for the noise was very
boisterous, and as they approached it was to see the men rush away in
the height of enjoyment, laughing again, for the spout of hot water,
which seemed less steamy and hot, played up again and descended, while
as it ran back with a low bellowing roar, the men followed quickly,
evidently to watch its descent down the stony tube, just as so many boys
might at play.

But there was no play here, for the comedy of running away to avoid a
wetting with the hot water, and rushing back to look down, turned into
tragedy. Short-legged Billy Widgeon, in his eagerness to be first,
tried