hich I raither fear
we've bin tramplin' about in the dirt; but--no, here it is," he added,
picking up the wallet, which had come off in the struggle, "all right,
an' I make no doubt it'll be of use to 'ee. But it's a poor sort o'
lodgin' ye've got here: wouldn't it be better for all parties if we was
to go on deck?"

"Not so," said Lucien, with a smile, as he fell in with the seaman's
humour. "'Twere better to come to our cabin; this is only the hold of
our ship.--Follow me."

So saying he went down on his hands and knees and disappeared in an
impenetrably dark hole, not three feet high, which opened off the hole
in which they stood.

Mariano pointed to it and motioned to the sailor to follow.

"Arter you, sir," said Ted, bowing politely.

Mariano laughed and followed his brother, and Ted Flaggan, muttering
something about its being the "most strornar companion hatch _he'd_ ever
entered," followed suit.

A creep of two or three yards brought him into a cavern which was just
high enough to admit of a man standing erect, and about eight or ten
feet wide. At the farther extremity of it there was a small stone lamp,
the dim light of which revealed the figure of stout Francisco Rimini
sound asleep on a bundle of straw, wrapped negligently in his burnous,
and with a stone for his pillow. Beside him stood an empty tin dish and
a stone jar of the picturesque form peculiar to the inhabitants of the
Atlas Mountains; the sword given to him by Bacri lay within reach of his
half-open hand.

Neither the scuffle outside nor the entrance of the party had disturbed
the old man.

"My father is worn out with a fruitless search for food!" said Lucien,
sitting down on a piece of rock and motioning to the seaman to do
likewise. "We can venture out in search of food only at night, and last
night was so intensely dark as well as stormy that we failed to procure
anything. Our water jar and platter are empty."

"Then I've just come in the nick of time," said Flaggan, proceeding to
unfasten his wallet and display its much-needed contents.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

SOCIAL INTERCOURSE IN THE CAVERN.

"Here you are," cried the sympathetic Irishman, enlarging on the nature
of the viands, as he spread them temptingly before the hungry men;
"here's food fit for a Dey, to say nothin' of a month. Here's a loaf--
ain't it?--about a fut an' a half long an' three inch thick. Coorious
to look at, but a good un to eat I make no doubt--