AS THEY were lingering over the breakfast table, that same morning, Margaret turned to May with a smile. “And to think of them, off adventuring now, this very minute!” she exclaimed, pouting a little. “It was rather horrid of them to go at such an unearthly hour, when of course we weren’t up.”
May nodded cheerfully.
“Yes, I’d have enjoyed being in at the finish—if only I’d been invited.”
“And I, too,” Margaret declared. “Anyhow, it’s my affair in a way, so I think I’m entitled to a spectator’s privilege, at least.”
“It must be horribly exciting for you, with so much money involved,” May ventured, somewhat timidly.
Margaret received the suggestion without sign of offense, and answered seriously:
“I don’t wish Mr. Temple to fail. I don’t really need the money. Besides—” she broke off in confusion.
[346]“And, besides, everything may come out right, after all, for everybody concerned,” May said slily.
Margaret blushed to warmest rose, but she showed no displeasure at the innuendo.
“Except the poor musicians,” she remarked; and then the two girls laughed joyously. As a matter of fact, each of them understood perfectly the progress of the other’s love-affair, but their intimacy was too new for the most sacred confidences. Then, Margaret received an inspiration:
“Why, we’ll go,” she exclaimed. Her expression showed surprised triumph over the idea.
“Where?” May questioned, at a loss.
“To the island, of course,” came the brisk answer. “I’ll run and tell mother, and then we’ll paddle up there, and see everything that’s to be seen.”
“Splendid!” May cried with enthusiasm. She was interested in the outcome of the treasure-hunt, but at this moment her sole thought was a thrilling one to the effect that by the plan she would see Roy the sooner.
So, it came about that in mid-afternoon the[347] two girls beached the canoe on the strip of sand at the island, and started toward the cavern. They were a little puzzled by the absence of the launch, and wondered if the fact were significant of good or ill fortune for the searchers. As they came to the top of the low bluff that rose from the shore, Margaret paused, and turned to look out over the lake.
“No, the launch isn’t in sight anywhere,” she said.
As she would have faced about to go on, a faint muffled sound came to her ears; the ground trembled very slightly; a movement of the lake’s surface caught her glance. A moment before, the tiny waves, glistening prisms under the sunlight, had made a scene of quiet beauty. Now, in the twinkling of an eye, there had come a change—a change curious, inexplicable, sinister. Out there in the lake, only a little way from the shore, the water, which had been so placid when they skimmed over it hardly a minute before, was now writhing in a horrible convulsion. Yet, no unwarned tempest racked the lake. The warm air was floating as languidly as hitherto. Nothing had been hurled into the water. There had been[348] no crash of fallen meteor. Naught showed as the cause of this amazing contrast. Nevertheless, under her eyes, the erstwhile tranquil bosom of the lake heaved in rage. Fifty yards from the shore, the water raced, lashing itself in wrath about the sunken center of its vortex. Margaret, thrilled, astounded, terrified, caught May by the arm, pulled her about.
“See! See!” she cried, wildly. “What is it? What can it mean?”
May, too, was stupefied by the spectacle. She stared at it in wordless confusion. She could make no guess as to the cause of this extraordinary event, nor tried to. She merely watched the mad carouse of the flood, and stood aghast. A great fear of this uncanny thing fell on the two girls, so that they clung together for protection, shuddering, their faces pallid.
It seemed to the watchers as if that mysterious turmoil in the waters of the lake continued for hours, though, as Billy Walker might have explained to them, it was doubtless no more than a matter of minutes. The commotion spread over a broad area, but the girls had eyes only for the central place of the[349] movement, the maelstrom near the shore, where the waters whirled in funnel shape, with the swaying hollow pointing the downward rush. An engineer would have known at first glance the reason for this churning of the lake, would have understood that some sudden vent below had set the tide racing to new liberty. But the girls had no such learning in physics. They could only look on in fascinated wonder, in awe. Haphazard, fantastic ideas darted in their brains, vague guesses concerning sea-serpents, earthquakes, tidal waves, waterspouts, which their own native sense rejected. Throughout the experience, neither was able to contrive any explanation of the extraordinary event. They were as confounded at the end as at the beginning.
Little by little, the waters of the lake ran slowly, and more slowly, in the path set them by the whorl. At last, there was scarcely a ripple to mark the spot where the cauldron had seethed hottest. Once again, there was nothing to see save the light tossing of the waves, dancing to the rhythm of the breeze toward the kisses of the sun. Margaret and May set their faces once more toward the[350] cavern.
They were garrulous over the mystery—hardly concerned with the treasure-quest, for the moment. But the new interest had not lessened the desire of their hearts, and they quickened their steps, each at thought of the man she loved, now so near at hand. So they came soon to the cliff in the ravine, where was the entrance to the cave. Margaret had brought her torch, which Jake had recharged for her the night before from his own supplies. She pressed the button, pushed aside the concealing branches, and made her way within the opening, followed closely by May, who experienced a pleasurable excitement as she thus penetrated into the earth. The two came duly to the chamber, which they crossed to where the black openings into the tunnels showed. Now, May’s heart beat faster, as she found herself deep in this grim abode of darkness, where the limited radiance of the torch served but to make more grotesquely menacing the shadowy unknown on every side. Yet, she would not confess the fear that clutched at her—only, held fast to Margaret’s arm, and chatted with unusual volubility, while a little[351] quaver crept in her voice. They entered the passage on the right, which Margaret had traversed with Saxe, and went forward with what speed they might over the rocks that cumbered the floor. They had descended for some distance, but had not yet reached the rift that led across into the other tunnel, when Margaret halted abruptly, with a gasp of amazement.
“It’s—it’s water!” she cried, dumfounded. She stood staring with dilated eyes, her lips parted, stupefied with astonishment, pointing with her free hand to the space before her, where the glow of the torch shone on a softly rippling level of water, which filled the tunnel like the contents of a well seen down the slope.
May, who had held her eyes fixed on the floor to save herself from stumbling, looked forward at the exclamation, and perceived the water. But the sight was not especially impressive to her. She supposed that here was merely a well in th............