Suddenly my guide had released my hand, and I was left to myself. I saw a faint glimmer of light ahead. And now I was conscious that there was no one in front of me. I faced quickly about. The blackness of darkness met my gaze.

I hoped to discover what manner of guide mine had been, but I looked into the depths of an inky funnel, whose grim background outlined no mysterious or other form against its dreadful perspective. I turned in the direction of the ray again, and walked a few steps. As I proceeded, the light grew stronger. I heard voices and laughter, intermingled with the ripple of one gentle voice that I knew, and I walked ahead now with confidence, and emerged at last into a large open room. I perceived at once that all our party were assembled here. I thought that Cynthia greeted me with some degree of pleasure. She held out her hand to me and asked me if my walk through the passage had not been intensely interesting.

Interesting!

I found that my entrance had interrupted Cynthia's explanation to the Skipper, which she now resumed.

"We had nowhere to leave a message," said Cynthia. "You know, Uncle, that I should never have run away from any ordinary boat. I knew that you thought that we ought to hide if strangers came, and I was willing to go, of course, only I did hope that we might stay our week out, or at least while the pork lasted. When I saw the Stars and Stripes I called to the others and waved to you. You paid no sort of attention to me. You had your back to me, and were leaning over the boat so far that I thought you would go over into the water. I told the Minion that you were looking, I thought, to see if there were any clams in these waters. And then the Bo's'n came running and begged me not to wave to you, or to make any sign until we found out what sort of craft that was."

"Beg the lady's pardon," said the Bo's'n, "but I have cruised in these waters before, and we didn't have no ladies, either."

"Well, well, Cynthy, go on! go on! How did you find this place?"

"Well, then, I took up the glass. The Bo's'n was flying round hiding our things. He rolled the casks some distance back among the underbrush. Meanwhile I was looking through the glass, and when I saw the Stars and Stripes I must confess that I was a little disappointed, because I knew, Uncle Tony, you would want to leave at once. But, Uncle, while I was looking, right across my field of vision there floated that horrible skull and crossbones. It was only for a second, but that was long enough for me. When I told the Bo's'n what I had seen he could hardly believe me. He told Lacelle that we must hide ourselves until we saw what the people in the boat intended to do. She took my hand and said, 'Li negue pas peu',' and drew me into a running step along the bank of the stream."

"Yes, yes, Cynthy; but how did you find this hiding place? It seems just hollowed by natur' a purpose."

"That I can't tell you, Uncle. We ran up the bank of the stream, and when we reached the straight face of the cliff Lacelle turned to the right. She hurried along the base of the rock and skirted it. Round the corner we went, and up that hill we flew. Lacelle got over the ground like a young fawn, but it was rough climbing for me. Then I asked the Bo's'n to take my hand, and the Minion took the other, and they pulled me up to the level under the ceiba tree."

"And how did you find——"

"Wait, Uncle, I can't tell all at once. She parted the bushes and pushed me some distance into the darkness, and then some one took my hand and led me along. I don't know who that was. I was so confused.—Was it you, Bo's'n?—And then——"

"Begging your pardon, miss," said the Bo's'n, "I followed you."

"We walked along the passage, Uncle——"

"So did we," said the Skipper. "It's all very curious. Did that girl—. By the way, why don't you ask the girl how you——"

"How can I ask her anything, Uncle?"

"Then how did you know her name?"

"Oh, I wish there was no more difficulty in learning her language than in learning her name. She just pointed to herself and said 'Lacelle,' 'Lacelle,' over and over. Then she ran away. I called 'Lacelle!' and she came running back, smiling. I'm sure that's very easy."

"Yes," said I. "I wish that we had no more difficult problem to solve."

"Well, it's a pretty nice kind of a hole," said the Skipper, beaming upon us all contentedly.

One who has not explored the island of Santo Domingo, with its western division of HaÏti, can form no idea of its wonderful formation. Its gigantic cliffs rise in perpendicular grandeur from grassy or thickly wooded plains, in whose caves and recesses bandits have made their homes. There even the redoubtable Captain Kidd is said to have found a refuge!

The place in which I found my friends was a grand chamber of about sixty feet in depth, measuring back from the face of the rock, and about forty feet in width. There was an opening across the front of perhaps twenty feet in width and nine or ten feet in height, but no one looking at it from the shore would perceive that the vines which trailed their masses of leaves across the opening concealed anything but the simple face of the rock. We had not dreamed that there was any opening in the cliff until we heard Cynthia's whistle. The vines seemed to start from the top of the rock, fifty feet overhead, perhaps, from where we were concealed, and grow directly downward. When they reached the ground they fastened themselves in the rich earth with long-reaching fingers; then having made their holding good, began to climb upon themselves again to the very top of this lofty natural fort. There they had started fresh roots, and again the vine began to descend, making a new pilgrimage to earth. So back and forth it ran, its green vines hardening to woody stems, and then to the thickness of branches, curling and twisting upon one another, until the leaf screen had become hardly penetrable. I suppose that it would have been quite safe to have leaned one's entire weight against this natural lattice work, but prudence, the Skipper, and I forbade.

I looked around the interior of the chamber, and saw that it was formed like most caverns which I had seen in my time. There were projections of rock upon the sides and around the base of the walls, which might have been the work of Nature or of man. Perhaps Nature, somewhat aided by man. As I stood facing the opening and the small hole which Cynthia had made in the screen, I turned to scrutinize the wall upon my right, opposite where we had entered the cavern. It was about twenty feet in height. Along the very top there were some small openings, or natural embrasures, and through these a faint light percolated. I should much have liked to climb to the top and see what was on the other side of our party wall, but I was helpless. There was no possible way of getting up there, and I withdrew my eyes disappointedly. At the back of the chamber in which we had taken refuge there were some large natural pillars of stone, grand, ragged, and uneven. As I glanced at these I saw that Lacelle leaned thoughtfully against one of them, her gaze fixed upon Cynthia with a tender and earnest expression, as if she wondered what could be done to save this beautiful and beloved creature. As I looked, I thought that I saw the skirt of the girl's dress twitched gently, as if some power other than I knew was urging her backward into the gloom; and as I gazed, the girl, obedient to the mysterious summons, melted from my sight.

"The boats are getting nearer," called Cynthia. "Look, Uncle, they are probably coming for water from our bathing place."

The Skipper took the glass from Cynthia and rested it on one of the strong vines which twisted across the window of the cave.

"Two boats are pushing into the stream," the Skipper informed us. "Did you ever see such a fiendish looking lot of ruffians?"

"Do let me see, Uncle. This is the most delightful thing that I ever experienced."

"God grant that we can keep her in that frame of mind!" I whispered to the Skipper.

He gave me a look full of anxiety as he handed to Cynthia the eagerly desired glass.

"They are pulling up against the current. Now they'll come to our bathing place for water," said Cynthia. "Oh, how I wish I had some!"

"If they find our provisions we're done for," whispered the Skipper in my ear. But, as Providence willed, the men did not disembark upon our side of the stream, or rather the side where we had made our camp, but upon the other, or right bank, if the right bank of a stream is the same as that of a river, the one on your right when you are looking toward its mouth. They hauled their boats up on the shelving beach, and then the man in the stern stood up and gave orders. We could hear him now. He spoke in a singularly musical voice, in a sort of broken English. The others called him Mauresco, as near as we could understand.

It seems incredible that but a few years before the time when I was cast away the United States Government, and the other reputable nations of the earth as well, were paying yearly tribute to the Dey of Algiers. And although peace had been declared in the year 1805, it was a hollow one so far as the roaming bands of pirates were concerned. Many of them made their refuge on the Isle of Pines, and were so strongly intrenched there that it seemed that no one had ever thought of trying to dislodge them. Vessels started from American ports hoping to arrive at their destinations in spite of these maurauders, and that Captain Schuyler had not been annoyed by them in his southern voyages argues in favour of his luck, and not of his prudence.

The Skipper looked again.

"Those ain't empty casks," he said. He talked slowly, moving the glass about as he followed the movements of the landing party. "See how that one thumped down on the beach. I believe I heard it. Bet a red herring to a sperm whale there's something in those casks!"

"Good Santo Domingo or Jamaica rum, probably," said I.

"Maybe, in some of 'em."

I wish that I could describe the strange appearance of those lawless men as they surrounded the casks and rolled them up on the beach. I thought it strange that blue, yellow, green, and purple predominated. There was also the shade which my wife calls pink, but of a rich or darker colour, red or crimson, there was none to be seen. I discovered the reason of this, however, when the third boat put her nose against the beach.

"Those fellows mean to make a night of it," said the Skipper. "Call me a soldier if they don't."

"Oh, I am so thirsty!" said Cynthia again. She stood leaning against the wall of the cavern close to the opening, peering down, more, I thought, upon the water glancing below than at the strangers. I have been reading of late a very pretty tale written by a gentleman of the name of Irving, and as I read of that wonderful palace of the Moors called the Alhambra, and of the lattice work across the windows from which the court beauties gazed forth, themselves unseen, my mind ran back over fifty years, and I saw Cynthia again, as I saw her that morning, a fairer, sweeter beauty, looking down from her latticed window, than any houri who ever graced the court of Boabdil of Grenada.

"Don't worry about water, Cynthy, child," said the Skipper. "Sorry you're thirsty, but they'll go away presently, and then you can have all you want. If they would only go off a little way, we could make a dash for the boats and row to Floridy."

"Begging your pardon, sir, you forget the schooner, sir," said the Bo's'n.

"Seem to have a good many men for the size of the schooner." The Skipper remarked this as the boats were pushing into the stream. "I don't believe they are all crew." And one could see that they were not. The crew were well-fed-looking ruffians, dressed in picturesque fashion after the manner somewhat of their masters, but there were six or eight of the men in the boats who had little clothing, and that of the simplest sort. They looked sad and downcast, and one could see that they must be prisoners, even without discovering the ropes or heavy cords which tied their wrists to the rowlocks where they were seated. They gazed anxiously at the shore, as if they would be glad to rest for a while upon the sweet green grass.

"How can they live so far off!" said Cynthia, gazing down at the piratical crew in wonder.

"Far off from where?" I asked.

"Why, from Belleville, of course."

For the moment I had forgotten that Belleville was the axis of the earth.

"I wish to God they were nearer Belleville and farther from us at this moment!" said I fiercely.

"I wish that fool girl had never come away from Belleville at all," whispered the Skipper to me. He shook his head anxiously as he stood gazing at Cynthia with a puzzled expression, as if to say, "What will become of her?"

I could not withdraw my eyes from those strange men. From the moment my eye fell upon the one they called Mauresco I hated him with a deadly hatred, and yet I think I never looked upon so comely a man. Tall, well formed, with shoulders like an athlete, you did not take him for a large man, and yet after looking at others and turning again to him he seemed like a giant. After letting your gaze rest on him for a time, and then turning to the others again, they looked like pigmies, their heads contracted, their colour faded, their eyes small and dull. What there was in this man to so fascinate every one with whom he came in contact I do not know. I never got very near to him but on one occasion, and then but for the space of a few tragic moments, but I found that he left behind him wherever he passed a memory that would not die. Mauresco was the finest of his boat's crew, as far as we could see. His coat, of some greenish colour, was thrown aside, and his fine white shirt was apparently his only covering above the waist. He wore trunk hose and half boots. Upon his head was the broad straw hat of the tropics, and around his waist was a wide green sash, in which were stuck two or three knives. Some pistols lay on the seats in the bows. I suppose that the men had disburdened themselves of these because of the heat of the day. In each boat there seemed to be a leader, or captain, who was dressed much as was Mauresco. The costumes of the sailor men were a modification of his.

"He's very handsome," said Cynthia, her eyes glued to the glass.

"For God's sake, don't speak so loud!" said I.

"He looks like that picture of the Moor we have at home, Uncle. His voice is very sweet. I don't believe he would do us any harm. Now suppose we throw ourselves upon his mercy, and——"

"Fool!" ejaculated the Skipper, and, snatching the glass, he turned his back upon her. "If you speak a loud word," he whispered fiercely, "I'll throw you off the cliff."

"I don't see how that would save my life," whispered Cynthia to me; but her Uncle's rough words and tones had the desired effect, and we spoke no more aloud.

From the second boat there stepped a young boy of perhaps fourteen years. He had, I thought, a dazed, cowed look. The leader in the second boat was a bluff, red-faced Englishman. He limped and was awkward in his movements, and I saw that he had a wooden leg. He got over the ground, however, as fast as most of the men, and his strength and power even with this drawback made him seem uncanny. He whistled and sang by snatches in a fine barytone voice, which would not have disgraced a concert stage. When this man was not whistling and singing, he was laughing and swearing, which proved a diversion, if not an agreeable one.

As soon as the young man stood up in the boat, he looked anxiously at the burly man.

"After you, my lord," said the burly man, bowing low. "I am nothing but plain Jonas—Captain Jonas, at your service. It's so long since we had a real lord among us that we don't quite know how to treat him.—Mauresco, rise up and greet my lord."

The man we now knew as Mauresco half arose and said in his musical voice, as he smiled and showed his handsome teeth:

"I salute you, Lord George."

The boy had a rope round his wrist, which trailed after him as he walked.

"Let me remove that darby, my lord," said Mauresco.

He drew a crooked cimetar from his belt and rose into a sitting posture. The boy looked shrinkingly at the knife and advanced, trembling and pale.

"Oh, come, come! Have courage, my lad!" said Mauresco. He cut the rope and the boy was free.

"Am I to be left upon this island?" asked the boy, looking at Mauresco anxiously.

"And why should we leave Lord George Trevelyan upon this island? To wander to the interior, and tell King Christophe that this is one of our stopping places?"

"How am I to be killed, then? Am I to be made to walk out upon that dreadful plank?" The boy shuddered, as if he had lately witnessed that dread execution. "Tell me my fate, Captain. I can bear it, only tell me."

"No, no! We have another plan for you, Lord George. We will take you back to the coast of England. We will stand in near the estate of your mother, the countess, some late evening. Then you shall write her a letter asking the ransom that I shall dictate, unless, indeed, the Admiral of the Red demands more."

"You mistake my position," said the boy. "My mother is not a rich woman, even though she has a title. She is not a countess, she——"

"But your brother is a lord."

"Yes, but I am not. I have no money in my own right, and never shall have. If I had, I would promise it all to you if you would take me home or to any civilized land."

"Lady Trevelyan could raise the money, and then——"

"She could raise next to nothing, Captain. The estates have been encumbered for years. She is trying to pay off the indebtedness before my brother comes of age; she——"

"What would she say to sixty thousand pounds?"

The boy's face blanched.

"I may as well be frank with you, Captain; she could not procure anything like that sum."

"Well, well, say forty thousand; we won't be particular about a little less. Suppose, now, I should leave you here, Lord George, with provisions for a certain length of time, in a safe place which I know of in this neighbourhood, and you give me a letter to your mother the countess, saying——"

"It is useless," said the boy, hanging his head. "She could not give it to you."

"I'm afraid, then, we'll have to do with you as we have with many a fellow twice your size. It would never do to let you go home and set the English law working against Captain Jonas, plain Captain Jonas."

Jonas laughed his burly, fat laugh.

"Not to speak of Mauresco," he said, "handsome Mauresco!"

"But if I promise never to say a word to a soul of where I have been, whom I saw, what was said, when we——"

"We've heard those promises afore," said Captain Jonas. "Remember, Mauresco? When we caught that damned Spanish don, and all the promises he made, and then that infernal chase! No, no, boy—Lord George, I should have said. We know too much about the faith of a prisoner of war."

"My family have always been noted for their honour and faith!" The boy drew himself up with pride as he said these words. "I would die before I would tell if I promised not——"

"That will be the case anyway," said Mauresco with a careless laugh.

"Will you shoot me? Will you make me walk that horr——"

The boy shuddered and turned paler than he had been.

"No, no, boy, on the word of the buccaneer, we have no such intention. We shall neither shoot you, hang you, nor make you walk the plank. Don't be so anxious. You have got some fine stories into your head about us, but really at bottom we are the most humane of men.—Aren't we, Jonas? I beg pardon, Captain Jonas."

"So they tell me," said Jonas pleasantly.

The third boat had now come into the cove, and had landed near the first two. The Captain of the third boat was a squat, little red-faced man, with a hump on his back to make him seem smaller—in fact, he was a dwarf. His legs were bowed, his arms long. He had small ferret eyes and an ugly grin.

"Your fate will be decided by the Admiral of the Red," said Mauresco, with a wave of the hand toward the newcomer.

As the third boat grounded, in answer to the punting oars, the men on the bank, Mauresco and Captain Jonas among them, arose from, their sitting postures and stood with an air almost of respect. The little man scrambled over the seats and tumbled himself down on the beach.

"Some of you fellows come and carry me," he said. "It's too damnably hot to walk."

At a glance from Mauresco three or four of the strongest of the men ran to the help of the Admiral of the Red and lifted him upon their shoulders. Some one else ran to the boat and seized a boat cloak which lay in the stern sheets and placed it in the shade under a mahogany tree. The Admiral of the Red, or the Red Admiral, as he might better be called, gave each of the bearers a vicious kick as they deposited their share of him upon the ground; at which they laughed as if it were a delightful joke, and ran down to the boat to help land the Admiral's belongings.

"Broach a keg!" squeaked the Admiral.

"We have just broached one," answered Captain Jonas.

"It was rum," whispered the Skipper to me. "I told you so. I'll take that sperm whale, if you please."

I was glad that the Skipper could joke under such horrible circumstances; it seemed to make our situation less hopeless.

The Admiral now squeaked for his horse pistol, and, while some one was concocting a drink for him out of various fiery compounds, he laid under the tree and amused himself in taking aim at the prisoners in the different boats. The men turned pale and shook as each shot flew over their heads or about their ears, and watched the Admiral with apprehensive eye, and dodged as they saw him pull the trigger. They kept their hopeless gaze fixed upon him, not knowing at which boat or which man he intended to aim.

"Why don't they push the boats off and row for it?" whispered I indignantly.

"Can't, sir," answered the Bo's'n. "Even if they could jump out of the boats and push them off they must punt to the mouth of the stream, and they would be riddled with bullets before they got that far, sir. Besides, you don't suppose, sir, those hellions would leave an oar where they could get it?"

I looked where he pointed, and saw that the oars had all been taken from the boats and were piled together some distance from the little beach.

We stood and watched those dreadful men for an hour or more. They were repulsive, but they fascinated those who had never been near persons of such notorious fame. I left Cynthia to watch the pirates and joined the Skipper.

"Captain," said I, when I could speak to him alone, "who brought you into this cavern?"

"Didn't notice exactly; that girl, I suppose. Lacelle, they call her."

"Well, she didn't bring me in. She was here when I came. She was the first person I saw. They were all here. She and the Bo's'n, Cynthia, your niece, and the Minion."

"You've got fanciful, Jones; who else could it be? Answer me that."

I did not answer him, but asked him another question.

"Did you notice, Captain, when we went along the beach this morning, when we went to bury those men, I mean——" I stopped suddenly. "It doesn't seem only a day, does it—in fact, only a few hours—since that happened?"

"Hardly twenty-four hours since we came ashore," added the Skipper.

"Well, you remember when we went along the shore, don't you?" The Skipper nodded. "When we got to the place where the sailors were lying, there were three graves on the beach."

"Yes, what of that?"

"I want you to corroborate my statement, that is all. When I left the spot with the Bo's'n, you remember, when he was so afraid of the ring that your niece found——" The Skipper nodded again.

"Well, when I left that place with the Bo's'n there were two graves, another partly dug, and a dead HaÏtien lying on the edge of it. When I went back there with you there were three graves, as I have said, and no HaÏtien. How do you account for that?"

"Don't account for it at all," said the Captain.

"That's the way I account for it. The idee of your askin' me to account for anything in this devil's hole. If it was a little later in the day, and we were on board the old Yankee, I should say you had been looking at the sun through the bottom of a glass. About those graves now," continued the Skipper ruminatingly, "you remember what I said about a man in love, don't you?"

The old man looked at me with his eyes half closed and a peculiar expression of countenance.

"Leaving the strangeness of the completed burial aside," said I, "can you explain why there were only three graves when there were four men concerned in carrying off Lacelle?"

"I'm not good at guessing riddles," answered the old man. "Why should you care, anyway?"

"Well, Captain," said I, "there's an air of mystery about things down here that I don't like. Some strange compelling power seems to have taken forcible possession of all of us. Whose hand was it that pushed out from between the leaves and beckoned to you? And when you had entered the darkness of the archway, so that you could not recognise its owner, who took your hand and led you into the cave?"

"That girl, I told you," said the Skipper. "That girl Lacelle."

"It wasn't the girl who guided me," said I. "Her hand is small and plump, probably warm to the touch. The hand that held mine was long and thin, and very clammy and cold."

"The devil!" ejaculated the old man.

"No, I don't think it was the devil himself," said I. "It may have been one of his chief mates."

I looked at the Skipper, and saw that the beads of perspiration were standing on his forehead and running down the crack alongside his nose.

"Don't, man! You make the creeps go all over me. What's the use of being so damned unpleasant? Ain't we uncomfortable enough without your ringin' the changes on ghosts and spooks and spectres?"

"You may as well look the thing in the face," said I. "There's something uncanny about the place, and, though it has worked in our favour thus far, who knows what may be in store."

"For God's sake, Jones, let's get away, then! Call Cynthy and the others to come, and let's run for it."

"Where to?" inquired I. "We might run right into the arms of those villains. If even one of them were to see us, our secret would be theirs, and then farewell to hope."

"No, that wouldn't do. I wouldn't have those wretches see Cynthy for the world," said the Skipper.

"God forbid!" said I. My heart almost burst its bounds at the thought. "O Captain Schuyler!" I pleaded, "if you have a particle of power over that niece of yours, make her lie quiet until they are gone."

"Make!" said the Skipper, with much the same emphasis that he had used a little while before.

"There's something to be said for 'em after all," said the Skipper in a low tone, gazing down contemplatively on the strangers. "They're probably married men. Had to get away from home. Don't suppose they can stand it."

At this the Bo's'n turned on the Skipper with a determined air. His words let me into the secret of his life.

"Begging your pardon, Cap'n Schuyler, sir," he said, "but darned if you know everything, Cap'n Schuyler, sir! I've got a wife, and if she ain't a angel——"

"Darned if you know anything at all, sir," replied the Skipper in a thunderous whisper, "except how to be insubordinate!"

Cynthia had withdrawn to one of the stone projections and was sitting there, her head leaning back against the wall.

She looked pale and seemed faint. I went near her to see what I could do. She opened her eyes when she heard my footsteps on the rocky floor.

"They mean to stay," she whispered. "How shall we ever get any water?"

"I will get you some water," said I.

This statement sounded extremely brave, but how was I to get it? Cynthia's look of appeal and suffering pierced me to the heart. That she should really suffer for a sip of that water which we saw so plainly bubbling out of the cavern below our hiding place made me wretched.

"If I had a cup," said I.

I walked to the latticed window, where the Skipper was again gazing down upon the pirates below.

"What do you say," said I, "to our beginning a fusillade on those fellows and picking off all we can, and then rushing out and fighting the rest?"

The Skipper shook his head. "It won't do. We are only three—the boy don't count; he has no pistol, and we have little ammunition. They would discover and overpower us. And then my little Cynthy——" The Skipper sniffed and shook his head. "No, no, Mr. Jones, we had best lay by until they go. They must go soon. The sun is setting, and I'm sure they won't stay after dark. Darned if I don't wish I had our six-pounder up here! I'd clear 'em out of there mighty quick."

"Have you a cup, Captain?" said I.

"Only that flat bottle, and that's filled with rum," answered the Skipper; "but when the sun's over the foreyard I intend to wet my whistle, and I'll ask you to join me, pirates or no pirates."

"The sun's been over the foreyard this long time," said I, "but you can't drink clear liquor."

At this moment Lacelle issued from the archway at the back of the room. She held in her hand Cynthia's funereal bag. She looked questioningly at Cynthia, and laid her finger on the catch. Cynthia nodded, Lacelle pressed the spring, and handed the open bag to Cynthia, who took from that wonderful receptacle a little silver cup.

"My baby cup," she said, as she held it out to me. I looked at the engraved letters, and read:

"Cynthia Schuyler Archer, June 15, 1803."

I laughed as I read the date aloud.

"As bad as the family Bible," said I.

"For Heaven's sake," urged the Skipper, "go to the back of the cave if you mean to make so much noise. One of those wretches looked up here just now when you laughed."

Familiarity with danger always makes it appear less.

I took the cup from Cynthia's hand and started for the passage through which we had entered the cave.

"Oh, don't go!" said Cynthia, but very faintly, I thought.

"Whatever you do, don't let 'em see you," said the Skipper. "They must imagine themselves quite alone on the shore."

"I think I can steal down this side of the cliff," said I, "and get through the underbrush to the shore of the stream. Remember they are across on the other side, and they are sleepy after their liquor. The only persons who could see me would be the prisoners, and I don't believe they would give the alarm."

"No, the last ones to," said the Bo's'n. "If they could only get free, sir, we could, I believe, combine, sir, and kill those wretches and take the schooner, Mr. Jones, sir."

"Turn pirate yourself!" said Cynthia with a look of horror at the poor Bo's'n. "How can you suggest anything so wicked! I thought you were——"

"Don't be such a fool, Cynthy! It would be a good job to rid the earth of those brutes."

"O Uncle! if you kill them, promise me that I shall not see it, especially that handsome one they call Mauresco. I don't know but I could bear to see the Admiral——"

"Her mother was a real bright woman, too," said the Skipper, turning to me with an expression of scorn. "You wouldn't believe it, now would you?"

Cynthia now arose from her rock.

"Uncle," she said, "you have called me a fool several times to-day, and before these gentlemen. I don't mind it if it amuses you, but I do have clever inspirations at times. I have one now; a very bright idea has come to me. How would it do if I should go and get the water myself? If that handsome pirate should see me, he might release the young lord, and he would give us, I am sure, anything we asked. I think they usually respect a lady's wishes, don't you?"

"No," said I, "not that I ever heard of."

"Girl, you will certainly drive me off my head," said the Skipper. "Talk about swearing! I'll—I'll—I'll—Lazy, take that girl away!" The Skipper's lips moved rapidly, and I saw that he was whispering a few oaths to point his remark. I turned and faced the blackness of the passage. I groped my way along, feeling certain that I could slip quietly down the slope, dip up a cupful of water, and return without being seen. There was a spice of adventure in all this, and I was not averse to showing Cynthia that I was not quite so cowardly as I had been forced to appear. Had I reflected a little, I might have wondered what use it would be to try to appear brave in the estimation of a girl who herself was not afraid to meet the pirates—in fact, rather courted such an encounter.

My soul filled with inspiring thoughts, I started boldly into the passage. I had come safely to the chamber; naturally I could find my way to the outside by simply walking forward. I had reached the point where the passage descends sharply to the level when my hand was taken in another. This gave me a shock for a moment, and I uttered an involuntary exclamation. "A pa' peu," whispered a soft voice in my ear. The tone was reassuring, and I knew the tones were intended to convey the idea that I was to feel no fear. As I remember now, it seemed as if I were suddenly turned about at right angles with the way that I had been travelling, and then gently impelled from behind. After a little I saw a gleam of light at a distance. All at once curiosity impelled me, and I walked eagerly ahead, fear and distrust vanishing like the mist of the morning.

I followed this new passageway, striking my flint as I went, lighting up the dismal place for a moment, and finding myself in blacker darkness when my light was gone. The spirit of discovery was now rampant within me, and I could not hold my feet, they ran unchecked. The light increased, the darkness became a little less overpowering as I proceeded, and finally I found myself walking in a sort of semi-daylight, which prefaced my coming to what seemed real light after the utter darkness which had enveloped me. The passage grew wider, there was better air, and all at once I came out upon a narrow gallery, with a wall of stone in front of me. A screen of vines like those before our cave hung from the noble arch overhead. They grew down from a nearly circular opening, and, trailing past the gallery, reached, some of them to the floor of the apartment on which the gallery looked. Thus they concealed the narrow shelf and its occupant. I did not discover this at first, but the knowledge of it came to me gradually as I pursued my investigations. The gallery reminded me of a box at a theatre in Barcelona, and I could not fail of being struck with the similarity. I pushed the vines aside and looked over the wall, which would have corresponded with the gallery rail nowadays. Below me was a grand interior, much larger than the room in which our little party were secluded. The first thing that I noticed was a raised stone receptacle of some kind which was planted squarely in the centre of the great hall.

"Those pirates are a cleanly set," I said almost aloud. "That must be their bath tub. Where, I wonder, do they get their water?"

The receptacle rested upon several large stones, and thus was raised from the floor of the cavern. About the tub, as I named it in my mind, were some larger rocks, which I thought must be seats. There were great blocks of stone about the walls, which I thought might be used as tables, and around the base of the wall were stone seats, shaped like divans, such as I had noticed in the room where I had left Cynthia. There were some slight signs of previous occupation, such as, what at that distance seemed, candle ends, and upon what I took to be a table was a cimetar, such as I had seen in the belt of Mauresco. Directly opposite me, but on a level with the floor, was an opening like a doorway, through which a pale light shone, and I noticed now that a little of God's sunlight pierced its way in from overhead. It was now that I raised my eyes to the roof and found that there was a second opening, through which the vines hung in masses, one or two long vines of ropelike appearance trailing upon the floor. Lying upon the stone floor was a large lamp of antique construction. In the ring at its top was wound the end of the hanging vine. This I understood later.

I now leaned over the gallery as far as I dared to see how high it was above the level of the floor. It seemed to me to be situated about thirty feet above the base of the wall, and I could discover no possible way by which it could be reached from below. I could almost touch the roof from where I stood as it curved over my head. As I raised myself up from this inspection I turned my head sidewise, when some strange objects met my view. At first I could not make out what manner of things these were. At the end of this great apartment there seemed to be several niches in the wall. They were upon my right, and I could not distinguish them distinctly from where I stood. So I moved to the left, my gallery curving slightly there, and, looking fixedly at them in the failing light, I comprehended what this grewsome sight meant.

There were six niches. Each niche, with the exception of one, had its occupant, and as I looked I perceived that they bore a resemblance to the human figure, some of them more strictly than others, but I knew now that these were some of the victims of those "handsome men" upon whose "mercy" Cynthia wished us to throw ourselves. They were, in fact, the remains of human beings, whose last living hours had been spent within those dreadful walls. There were five, I think, as nearly as I can remember. One appeared almost as if he were still in life and able to speak and ask for help. His clothes were well preserved, and his figure and head were almost erect, his bearing almost proud. But the others were in most instances fleshless skeletons. The skin had dropped from their bones, the clothes hung in tatters about their shrunken forms, their teeth glistened in the last light of day. There must have been a strong wind without, and upon the eastern side of the cave where this great hall was situated, for it would force itself into the passages and through the crannies. The desolate figures were affected by its insistance. A head wobbled languidly here, a rag of cloth fluttered faintly there, then an entire body swayed as if weary only with its tiresome position for so long a time, and as if it would fain seat itself or lie down to rest.

I gazed awestruck. I put my hands over my eyes, and, removing them, I looked again. There was a fiercer gust of wind, which rattled the jaws of some of the skeletons, and their teeth seemed to be almost hissing out words of appeal or of warning to me. I turned and fled back through the passageway, running as if for life, as if I, too, might be caught and left to die slowly in one of those empty niches. As I flew along I struck my light, but the flint fell from my fingers. I stooped and groped for it. I got myself confused and turned around, and in a second flight I found myself again in the hated gallery. Here I pulled myself together and started afresh. As luck would have it, in my second flight through the tunnel my foot struck against my flint and steel. I groped and picked up the little chain that held them together, and this time I got out of the tunnel, for I stumbled up against a blank wall and knew that it must lead to our refuge.

I struck a light, and found that my surmise was correct. The light also enabled me to see a bucket of water standing upon the floor of the passageway, and in it floated Cynthia's silver cup. I must have dropped it in my haste to see where that passage would lead. I felt ashamed, but I remember that I was hardly curious as to how the water got there. I had so much more serious and terrible things to occupy my mind.

When I reached the room with the lattice, as I shall call it now, to distinguish it from the others, I found that the Skipper, the Bo's'n, and the Minion were alone. The two men were lying down to get a little sleep. The Minion was hanging against the vines, still looking down at the men who had come ashore from the schooner. I set down my bucket, which was almost at once surrounded by the three, and they were minded to drink from the very pail itself, as there was but one cup.

"We thought you would never come back. Gad! what a time you have been! The Minion thought the pirates had gobbled you sure," said the Skipper.

"Where is Miss Archer?" said I.

At that moment Cynthia advanced with Lacelle from between the pillars at the back. She gave me a welcoming smile, with which some reproach was mingled, and then bent over the pail and dipped the cold water from it with her cup. She handed it to Lacelle. The girl pushed the cup away and made Cynthia drink first.

When all had finished, I took my share.

"You haven't had any?" exclaimed Cynthia. "How selfish we have all been! I thought you would get some at the stream."

"How did you get our pail, Mr. Jones, sir?" asked the Bo's'n.

I did not wish to alarm Cynthia.

"Oh, that's my secret!" said I.

Cynthia looked kindly at me now.

"Come with me, Mr. Jones," she said, "and see the charming room that Lacelle has found for me."

I followed the two back between the pillars, and after one or two turnings we came to a small room where Cynthia was entirely secluded and quiet. Here a faint light trembled down from overhead. I looked up and could see the branches of trees moving in the high wind, and behind them the red sky of sunset. Along the wall ran one of those surprising benches of stone, and on this Cynthia, or Lacelle for her, had laid the blanket and placed the pillow.

"Who brought these up here?" I asked.

"I can not say," said Cynthia. "I found them here."

There was not a sound in this remote spot. I judged that it was bounded at the back or west by the new passage through which I had gone on my voyage of discovery, by the entrance passage on the north, and by part of the great hall upon which I had looked down on the south. I had no way of proving this, but my bump of locality has always been good, and I thought that I understood the situation. I saw that there was but one way of entering this room, and made up my mind that so long as I had life and strength no living creature should pass beyond those stone pillars.

"Are you not hungry?" asked I.

"Not very," said Cynthia. "We each took some hard bread when we left the camp. The Bo's'n told us to. I have been nibbling on mine. I am very tired. Perhaps we can all sleep for a while. I suppose when it is really sunset those men will go away, don't you? Then we can go down to the shore again."

I had my forebodings, but I answered nothing. When I returned to the outer room, the three whom I had left were standing close to the lattice and peering downward.

"Where can they be?" I heard the Skipper say as I entered.

"Round there," said the Minion, whose words were as rare if not as priceless as the pearls and rubies of speech in the fable.

He motioned with his hand to the side of the hill on the east, opposite where we had climbed the slope. I stood as near the lattice work as I dared and scanned the grassy plain below. The boats with their prisoners were still beached on the shore of the stream. The guards sat under the trees ashore, keeping watch with pistols cocked. But the rest of the sailors, the two Captains, the Admiral, and the young Englishman had disappeared as completely as if they had dropped into a bottomless pit. I wondered if they had gone to some secluded place known only to themselves, where they could make way with the lad unknown to their companions, the guard, and the prisoners. As we stood and surmised over the fact of their disappearance, we heard the sound of many footsteps and the sudden loud ring of heels upon the stone floor in the chamber next our own. I had just time to motion to the others to hug the party wall, and to lie down myself with my length stretched along the base of the partition, when the voice of Captain Jonas rang out with baffled tone:

"Where are they?" he shouted. "Where are they? I thought they were here!"

"Lift me up! Lift me up, so that I may see!" squeaked the Admiral of the Red.

We lay as if we had been carved out of the very rock itself.

There were shouts and oaths and runnings here and there, and scuffling of feet upon the dusty footway. There was a flicker of light through the embrasures against our farther wall, and thence came an order—a roar, rather—from Captain Jonas:

"Search the whole place! Search every nook and corner! If it takes till midnight, the search must go on! They must be found!"