til the
day finally arrived when Cunningham reached the end of his labours--
rather earlier than he had anticipated--and, having put away his papers,
suddenly bethought him that here at last was his opportunity to give the
interior of the cavern a thorough overhaul. He accordingly provided
himself with an abundant supply of dry branches, to serve as torches,
lighted one of them, and proceeded forthwith to investigate, with the
result that about an hour later he startled us all by unexpectedly
emerging from behind a thick clump of bushes on the beach of South-west
Bay and frantically waving a lighted torch in his hand, under the
influence of such violent excitement that when we dropped work, and ran
to him to learn what was the matter, we found him to all intents and
purposes incoherent for the moment.

"Hurrah, you chaps, hurrah!" he yelled, waving the flaming torch above
his head as he advanced to meet us. "Aren't we a lot of lucky dogs, eh?
Cheer, you beggars, cheer, and split your throats! Who wouldn't be
shipwrecked, if they could meet with such a slice of luck as ours? By
George!--I say, Temple, kick me, old chap, will ye, just to convince me
that I'm awake."

"Steady, man, steady!" I returned, seizing him by the shoulder and
giving him a good shaking. "What in the world is the matter with you,
and what is all the excitement about? You don't mean to say that
there's a ship in sight, standing in for the island, do you?"

"Ship!" he retorted, in accents of ineffable contempt; "not much, there
isn't. No, it is something infinitely better than that. It is this, my
son, that when we leave this island we do so as a little bunch of
bloated plutocrats--millionaires, my boy, millionaires!"

"Millionaires!" I ejaculated. "What on earth does the man mean? What
are you driving at, Cunningham? Can't you pull yourself together and
tell us in plain English what has happened?"

"I know," exclaimed Parsons, with sudden illumination. "He've found a
buried treasure! Ain't that it, Mr Cunnin'ham?"

"Ay," answered Cunningham, "you are right, in a way, Chips, certainly.
But it is no pirates' hoard that I have found--no chests heaped high
with cups and candlesticks of gold and silver and jewelled weapons, and
overflowing with necklaces, bracelets, and rings torn from the persons
of shrieking women; it is something far better than that. It is a gold
mine, in the heart of yonder hill."

"A gold mine!" I returned, i