the further end. The "face" of the rock exhibited the marks
of persistent labor. The stone had been hewn away by main force when
the dislocation of strata ceased to be helpful.

His knowledge was limited on the subject, yet Jenks believed that the
material here was a hard limestone rather than the external basalt.
Searching each inch with the feeble light, he paused once, with an
exclamation.

"What is it?" cried Iris.

"I cannot be certain," he said, doubtfully. "Would you mind holding the
lamp whilst I use a crowbar?"

In the stone was visible a thin vein, bluish white in color. He managed
to break off a fair-sized lump containing a well-defined specimen of
the foreign metal.

They hurried into the open air and examined the fragment with curious
eyes. The sailor picked it with his knife, and the substance in the
vein came off in laminated layers, small, brittle scales.

"Is it silver?" Iris was almost excited.

"I do not think so. I am no expert, but I have a vague idea--I have
seen----"

He wrinkled his brows and pressed away the furrows with his hand, that
physical habit of his when perplexed.

"I have it," he cried. "It is antimony."

Miss Deane pursed her lips in disdain. Antimony! What was antimony?

"So much fuss for nothing," she said.

"It is used in alloys and medicines," he explained. "To us it is
useless."

He threw the piece of rock contemptuously among the bushes. But, being
thorough in all that he undertook, he returned to the cave and again
conducted an inquisition. The silver-hued vein became more strongly
marked at the point where it disappeared downwards into a collection of
rubble and sand. That was all. Did men give their toil, their lives,
for this? So it would appear. Be that as it might, he had a more
pressing work. If the cave still held a secret it must remain there.

Iris had gone back to her sago-kneading. Necessity had made the lady a
bread-maid.

"Fifteen hundred years of philology bridged by circumstance," mused
Jenks. "How Max Mueller would have reveled in the incident!"

Shouldering the axe he walked to the beach. The tide was low and the
circular sweep of the reef showed up irregularly, its black outlines
sticking out of the vividly green water like jagged teeth.

Much debris from the steamer was lying high and dry. It was an easy
task for an athletic man to reach the palm tree, yet the sailor
hesitated, with almost imperceptible qualms.

"A baited rat-trap," h