gone--all three of them. Gone before
Martin could utter his cry of warning--or recognition. Gone before the
stranger could move.

For, when the sailor cast away the rope, the strain on the tackle was
released, and the freed hauling line whipped snakelike through the air
as it rushed through the sheaves. The two men on the ledge fell
backward, as their lifeline collapsed; the blocks, with no weight to
hold them taut dropped from the rock; and the two poor wretches sliding
down the incline towards the pit dragged the tackle after them. The
tail block, swishing over the smooth surface, twined about the feet of
the backward-stumbling first man, and jerked him from his feet. With
the swiftly waning light revealing a writhing jumble of outflung arms
and legs, ropes and blocks, the three men slipped over the chasm edge.

The quake rumble had ceased. Above the simmering moan of the steam,
Martin heard the death wail of the trio, a wild, hideous shriek that
grew fainter and fainter, farther and farther away, and finally merged
completely with the other sound.

The greenish glow subsided into the depths from which it had sprung.
The black gloom swept down over the caves, covering all save the narrow
circles about the lanterns. And Martin squatted, sick and shaken, by
one lantern, and stared beyond the ledge at the other lantern. By it
stood Little Billy.

CHAPTER XX

TREASURE CAVE

"Is it little Billy?" thought Martin. "No, it can't be. Little Billy
is on board, planning the uprising, directing Yip and Bosun." The
guess he had made, born of hope and Ruth's hurried whisper, that Little
Billy was at large on the ship, combated the evidence of his sight. He
could not believe it was Little Billy.

But then the voice came across from the other entrance. It was
unmistakably Billy's voice.

"Martin, Martin! Are you all right?"

Martin found his own voice then. He shouted loudly, "Billy, Billy!"
He staggered to his feet, intent on joining the other. But Little
Billy was already on the ledge, sidling towards him.

An instant later he was pawing the hunchback, and gabbling gladly,
"Billy, Billy!" It really was Little Billy, a real flesh and blood
Billy. The mere feel of him was medicine to Martin's sick soul; it
shoved back the horror of the last few minutes. He was almost
hysterical, so intense was his relief and joy at having Little Billy by
his side.

But the hunchback's first words effectually c