e high into the air. Almost roasted by
the heat, he cried out for help; in another moment it would have been
too late, when the guide, hearing his voice amid the uproar, leant over,
and, just able to grasp his arm, though his own face was burnt in the
attempt, jerked him up with a strength few of Tom's companions could
have exerted, and placed him in comparative safety. Not a moment was to
be lost, for the seething mass was fast gaining on them. Up the cliffs
they climbed till they gained a place of safety.

"We've had enough of the inside of the crater," said Jack, as he thought
how nearly Tom had been lost; and they made their way again to the upper
rim of the vast basin. The larger lake, they calculated, was 1190 yards
long and about 700 wide; the smaller nearly circular, and upwards of 300
yards across. The lava continued rising till it overflowed a large
portion of the hitherto black surface, in some places appearing like a
vast sheet of liquid fire, in others running along in serpentine
courses. As their time was short, as soon as the party who had gone
round the crater arrived, the tents were packed up, and they commenced
their descent by the way they had come.

The next day the ships weighed, and shaped their course for Vancouver's
Island, under sail. Jack and Terence were eager to reach their
destination, in the hopes of finding letters awaiting them there from
England. In about little more than three weeks they entered Fuca
Straits, up which they ran for about sixty miles, with magnificent
scenery on both sides, though desolate in the extreme, till they reached
Esquimault Harbour, in Vancouver's Island; about three miles from which
stands Victoria, the capital.

Jack and Terence eagerly awaited the letter-bag, which, as soon as their
arrival was known, would be sent off to them. Jack was reading his
letters, when Adair came on board.

"Jack," he said, "the kind old admiral and Mrs Deborah have both gone,
and have left Lucy and me the whole of their property."

"Our good old friends dead!" exclaimed Jack, in a tone of grief; "I can
scarcely realise the fact. I can remember him from my earliest days;
always the same--kind and wise, and hearty and full of spirits. I saw a
great change in him before we left, but still hoped to be greeted by his
cheery voice on our return. How my father and mother will miss him!"

"I especially must ever hold his memory in grateful remembrance," said
Adair, with f