s very
hot, certainly, but with this rush of air through the tunnel I can
manage all right."

But he soon found that his enemies had not made any miscalculation.
For five minutes the air rushed fiercely past Jack, fanning the
tremendous flame which leapt from the blazing pile and carrying it
upwards to the rift, then it began to slacken, and the flame, instead
of roaring upwards to a point, began to sink, and spread its wide red
wings abroad in the cave, fluttering from one side to the other.

Jack looked upwards with a sinking heart: _the rift was closed_. It
had been left open till a terrific fire had burned up, and now it was
blocked, and the whole of the heat and the smoke was pent up in the
cave; and Jack was pent up, too, in this roasting inferno.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE TORTURE BY FIRE.

For some time Jack was but little troubled with the smoke. It billowed
up and up, and rolled in huge clouds about the lofty roof. But
gradually the cave filled, and Jack saw that with every moment the
smoke came lower and lower, threatening to fill the cave from the
floor to roof and choke the life out of him. A cloud whirled about him
and was gone again. But it left Jack coughing and half-choked, so
pungent and keen was the whiff which he had drawn into his lungs.

Thicker and thicker rose the clouds of smoke as the fire burned, for,
cunningly intermingled with the dried tinder of the canes and reeds,
his enemies had flung great bunches of fresh-cut boughs. The green
wood of the latter, roasting and spluttering with sap in the midst of
the roaring fire, threw out vast rolling clouds of choking smoke.

The freshest air was still at the mouth of the tunnel, and here Jack
crouched, his head as low as possible, for he knew that the last fresh
air would be found nearest to the floor. He was resolved not to go
out. His stubborn British blood was aflame at the thought of being
placed afresh in bonds, and he was ready to face the fiery torture
within rather than creep out and give his enemies the joy of knowing
that he was beaten, and of seeing him surrender.

Hope, too, was not yet dead in his heart. The heap of blazing
brushwood was at some distance from him, for the rift was at the other
side of the cave. If he could but set his teeth and endure this agony
of fire until the heap had burned out, he would not be forced from his
post.

But at that instant the fire reached several great faggots of green
palm branches, and