isle were constant, and no
matter which way they dragged their weary steps it was to find tokens of
the active or quiescent workings of the subterranean fires.

At last, just as they were ready to drop, and the sun was rapidly
disappearing, as the ruddy sky in the west plainly showed, they
staggered out of a more than usually painful part of the jungle into a
rugged stony opening, with the rock rising nearly sheer for hundreds of
feet, and to the intense delight of both, the ruddy light of the sky was
reflected from a rock pool, which glowed as if it were brimming with
molten orange gold.

"Water!" gasped Billy. "Come on."

"Be careful!" panted Mark; "it may be bitter or hot."

As he spoke the little sailor threw himself down, and plunged his fist
within, scooped out a little, tasted it, and then uttered a shout of
joy.

"Drink, my lad," he said hoarsely, and Mark followed his example,
placing his lips to the surface as he lay flat down and took in long
refreshing draughts of cool sweet water that seemed the most delicious
thing he had ever tasted.

"Talk about grog!" cried Billy, as he raised his face to take breath,
and then he drank again; "I never had grog as come up to this," he
continued. "Ah!"

Satisfied at length, they sat there at the edge of the pool looking up
at the rocky scarp before them, part of which glowed in the sunlight
reflected from the sky, while the rest down by where they sat was bathed
in purply shadows which were rising fast.

"Seems to me, my lad, as we must look out for a night's lodging. What
says you?"

"Yes, Billy, we must get some shelter for the night. But let's try one
more shout."

The little sailor protested, but Mark raised his voice as loudly as he
could in a stentorian "Ahoy!" and as if the occupants of the forest had
kept close upon their heels there came the same sneering laugh, and the
hoarse croaking cry from among the trees.

"There! see what you've done!" groaned Billy. "Who's to go to sleep
anywhere near here if they're arter us?"

"Nonsense!" cried Mark. "They'll go to roost directly, and we sha'n't
hear them again."

"Roost! Nay, lad, that sort o' thing never roosts. Let's get on."

"Get on! why, it will be dark directly, and we shall be falling down
some precipice, or getting into one of those horrible bogs. We must get
some shelter where we can."

There seemed to be no difficulty about that, for a few feet up the face
of the rock, and where