tempting such a mad adventure
all alone."

It was too late for repentance, and he tramped wearily on, trying to
make out in the lower ground upon which he gazed down to his right, the
dense forest and the huge fig-tree in which he had passed the night. He
laughed the next minute as he saw the impossibility of his search, for
he looked down upon the rounded tops of hundreds of such trees rising
like islands out of a sea of golden green shot with orange in the glow
of the sinking sun.

Before long he found that he must be on the look-out for another
resting-place, and that as there would not be time to reach the band of
trees at the foot of the mountain, he must find some patch of rocks on
the slope along which he was painfully walking. Then, finding that he
had left himself but little time, he halted by some greyish cindery
blocks whose bases were sunk in volcanic sand, and hungry and faint with
thirst, he threw himself down to lie looking up at the golden ball of
illumined steam floating above the top of the volcano high up in the
wonderfully transparent heavens till the light began to fade away, and
then suddenly went out, that is to say, seemed to go out; for, in spite
of hunger, thirst, and weariness, Oliver Lane's eyelids dropped to open
as sharply, directly, as it seemed to him, and he lay staring with
dilated eyes upward at the object he had last seen.

But it had changed, for the cloud, instead of looking golden and orange,
as it glowed, was now soft, flocculent and grey.

"There it is again," he said, excitedly then. "I thought it was part of
my dream."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

FRIENDS IN NEED.

He was quite right; it was solid reality, and he was looking at the
broad back of a man standing a few yards away, with his hands to his
mouth, and who now sent forth a tremendous shout, which was answered
from a distance before the man turned, and stepped quickly to his side,
displaying the rugged features of Billy Wriggs.

"Ain't dead, are yer, sir?" he cried, sinking on one knee. "Here, have
a drink."

He placed his water bottle in the young man's hand and watched him.

"No; dead man couldn't drink that how," he said softly. "Go it, sir;
I'll fill it up again. Take a reg'lar good deep swig. Fine stuff,
water, when you're thirsty, so long as it aren't hot water, and all
bitter and salt. Go it again, sir," he cried, as his rugged face
softened into a weak grin of satisfaction. "Ahoy-a! Ahoy! This