red with blood, and Forbes and Canaris were
binding the brawny arms and legs.

And there lay the knife, flashing back the light from its polished
steel.

"You came as near to death, Chutney, as any man can come," said the
colonel a little later, when Guy was able to sit up and lean against the
fragments of the canoe. "Forbes saved you on this occasion. He got awake
just in time, and crawling over the logs--for he was unable to walk--he
brought down the butt of the revolver on the fiend's head. He first
tried to shoot, but his weapon missed fire."

"Is he dead?" asked Guy.

"No," replied the colonel; "more's the pity. He seems to be only
stunned. We've tied him up securely, so he can't do any more harm. But
what started him, anyhow?"

Guy, with many a shudder, related the events that led to the attack,
and his audience were horror-stricken at the terrible tale. The
strangest part of it was that Sir Arthur had slept through it all and
was still sleeping.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE END OF THE CAVERN.

After that Guy himself fell asleep--a deep, heavy slumber that caused
his friends some uneasiness as they listened to his labored breathing
and saw the red flush that mounted over his pallid face.

Later on he struggled back to a wretched consciousness of his misery. He
made an effort to rise, but such keen pains darted through his body that
his head dropped back on the rug. The least movement was an agony, and
his head was aching with a fierce intensity that he had never known
before.

"I _will_ rise," he muttered between his clinched teeth, and summoning
all the power of his iron will he sat up.

The remaining half of the canoe was just behind him, and dragging his
body a foot or more over the raft he fell back against it with a groan
of agony.

The glowing embers of the fire shed a dim light over the scene. On his
right lay Sir Arthur, white and motionless. On the left was Bildad, his
arms and legs drawn up about his body in the throes of suffering. Near
the front of the raft lay the colonel, face downward on the logs, and
close by was the Greek, his white features turned toward the firelight.

One alone showed any signs of life. Melton was leaning over the edge
apparently drinking, and presently he raised his head and crawled feebly
toward the fire.

"How long have I slept?" asked Guy in a hoarse whisper.

Melton turned in astonishment as though f