ten minutes," said one of them to
his mate.

"Sure, Bill," replied the other.

Juarez choked back a hot reply, for he knew that it would not be good
for him to say anything to them. They were in the majority and would get
him if he did, besides making it bad for Tom. The ten minutes passed and
Juarez was just beginning to warm to his work. This took the wind out of
their sails completely.

The powerful hand of the Skipper at the steering oar was a great help,
for now all that the two men at the oars had to do was to pull and not
to worry about keeping her headed right. Juarez kept steadily at it for
an hour and then darkness began to fall over the channel but not until
the island that they were approaching had begun to loom up, dead ahead.

They were now getting in the lee of the strange island and the sea was
moderating perceptibly. At this juncture the two sailors who had become
thoroughly rested took the oars from Juarez and his co-worker and pulled
steadily through the gathering gloom. In a short time the bulk of the
island loomed above them in the darkness.

Not a word was said, only the swish of the sea was heard and the
groaning of the oars in the locks. Tom and Juarez were deeply depressed
and gloomy. They felt exactly as though they were being taken to prison
and could sympathize with sailors who had been marooned on lonely and
desolate islands.

"Easy now, lads," called the Captain, as he brought the boat's head
squarely around towards the shore.

"Two strokes," he yelled, "and let her run."

With great force they pulled the oars in succession, then they shipped
them in a hurry. Juarez could see the dashing of foam on either side of
the boat where the waves smote the rocks. There was a roar in his ears
as the boat rushed toward seeming sure destruction. It was going with
great speed from the impetus of the sailors' strokes.

The Captain was standing taut at the steering oars, his eyes piercing
the darkness ahead, then the foam of the breakers dashed in their faces,
there was a quick sliding past of dark rocks and before they could draw
breath again the boat was in quiet water, under some black cliffs. At
last they had reached the mysterious goal of their mysterious journey.

CHAPTER XXV

IN PERIL

We must now go back in our narrative to where we left Jim Darlington and
the Spaniard, Senor Sebastian, in a position of extreme peril, between
the cliffs and the deep sea, with the white-fang