guided
Dugald Shaw, when needful, by a light touch upon the arm. Our
enterprise was one of utmost danger. At any moment we might hear
the steps and voices of the returning pirates. Thus fore-warned,
we might of course retreat into the woods and let them pass,
ourselves unseen. But then, what of those whom we had left in
camp? Could we leave them undefended to the vengeance of Captain
Magnus? No, if we met the pirates it was their lives or ours--and
I recall with incredulity my resolution to imbed five of my six
bullets in a pirate before I turned the sixth upon myself. I
reflected with satisfaction that five bullets should be a fatal
dose to any pirate unless an exceptionally tough one. And I hoped
he would not be tough--

But I tell myself with shudders that it was not I, but some
extraordinary recrudescence of a primitive self, that indulged
these lethal gloatings.

No steps but our own, no voices but of birds, broke the stillness
of the woods. We moved onward swiftly, and presently the noise of
the sea came to us with the sudden loudness that I remembered. I
paused, signaled caution to my companions, and crept on.

We passed the grave, and I saw that the vines had been torn aside
again, and that the tombstone was gone. We came to the brink of
the cliff, and I pointed silently downward along the ledge to the
angle in which lay the mouth of the cave. My breath came quickly,
for at any instant a head might be thrust forth from the opening.
Already the sun was mounting toward the zenith. The noontide heat
and stillness was casting its drowsy spell upon the island. The
air seemed thicker, the breeze more languid. And all this meant
meal-time--and the thoughts of hungry pirates turning toward camp.

My hope was that they were still preoccupied with the fruitless
search in the cave.

Mr. Shaw and Cuthbert dropped down upon the ledge. Though under
whispered orders to retreat I could not, but hung over the edge of
the cliff, eager and breathless. Then with a bound the men were
beside me. Mr. Shaw caught my hand, and we rushed together into
the woods.

A quake, a roar, a shower of flying rocks. It was over--the
dynamite had done its work, whether successfully or not remained to
be seen. After a little the Scotchman ventured back. He returned
to us where we waited in the woods--Cuthbert to mount guard over
me--with a cleared face.

"It's all right," he said. "The entrance is completely blocked.