My breath came quickly,
for at any instant a head might be thrust forth from the opening.
Already the sun was mounting toward the zenith. The noontide heat
and stillness was casting its drowsy spell upon the island. The
air seemed thicker, the breeze more languid. And all this meant
meal-time--and the thoughts of hungry pirates turning toward camp.
My hope was that they were still preoccupied with the fruitless
search in the cave.
Mr. Shaw and Cuthbert dropped down upon the ledge. Though under
whispered orders to retreat I could not, but hung over the edge of
the cliff, eager and breathless. Then with a bound the men were
beside me. Mr. Shaw caught my hand, and we rushed together into
the woods.
A quake, a roar, a shower of flying rocks. It was over--the
dynamite had done its work, whether successfully or not remained to
be seen. After a little the Scotchman ventured back. He returned
to us where we waited in the woods--Cuthbert to mount guard over
me--with a cleared face.
"It's all right," he said. "The entrance is completely blocked. I
set the charge six feet inside, but the roof is down clear to the
mouth. Poor wretches--they have all come pouring out upon the
sand--"
All three of us went back to the edge of the cliff. Seventy feet
below, on the narrow strip of sand before the sea-mouth of the
cave, we saw the figures of four men, who ran wildly about and
sought for a foothold on the sheer face of the cliff.
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