side of them; brown tangles of weed swayed
slowly to and fro with the onward sweep and eddy of the ocean swell.
Then, as the boat advanced, the rocks rose higher on each side, sheer
shining walls, whose reflection made the clear water almost black.
The huge arch of the cave's entrance faced them. Behind was the
dark channel, and beyond it the sunlight on the sea, before them the
impenetrable gloom of the cave. The noise of the water dropping from its
roof into the sea beneath struck their ears sharply. The hollow roar
of the sea far off in the utmost recesses of the cave came to them. The
girl leaned forward from her seat and laid her hand on Neal's arm. He
looked at her. Her eyes, the homes of laughter and quick inconsequences,
were wide with dread. Neal knew what she felt. It was not fear of any
definite danger or any evil actually threatening.

It was awe, the feeling of mariners of other days who penetrated to
unknown seas, of men in primitive times who knew that fairy powers dwelt
in dark lakes and precipitous mountain sides.

The bow of the boat touched the huge boulders which formed a bar across
the mouth of the cave. Maurice leaped out, gun in hand, and stood knee
deep in the water, feeling with his feet for a secure resting-place.

"Keep the boat off, Neal, and take your shot if you get a chance."

He shouted--"Hello-lo-oh."

The rocky sides and roof of the cave echoed back his cry a hundred
times. Again he shouted, and again, until shouts and echoes meeting
clashed with each other, and it seemed as if the tremendous laughter of
gleeful giants mocked the solemn booming of the sea. There was a rush
of many wings, and a flock of terrified rock pigeons flew from the cave.
Maurice fired one barrel after another in quick succession, and two
birds dropped dead into the water. Neal, shaking the girl's hand from
his arm, fired, too. From his seat in the swaying boat it was difficult
to aim well. He missed once, but killed with his second shot. The boat
was borne forward and bumped sharply on the boulders at the cave's
mouth. The laughter of the echo died away. Instead of it came, like
angry threats, the repetition of their four shots, multiplied to a
fusilade of loud explosions.

"Come back, Maurice," cried Una. "Come back and let us get out of this.
I'm frightened. I cannot bear it any longer."

"You shall have all the four wings of my birds to trim your hats with,
Brown-Eyes," said Maurice, as he clambered dri