Suddenly, as they came near, there was a roar from within, and out of the cave rushed a man whose long hair and beard were white, and whose clothes were rude and worn.
The boys halted in amazement, staring at this man, who also stopped.
Frank spoke to Harry:
“It must be Carter Morris!”
“It is!” cried the old man, whose ears had caught the words. “How do you know me? What right have you to know my name? I am buried—buried from the world!”
“Crazy as a bedbug!” whispered Rattleton.
“Oh, crazy, am I!” sneered the man, much to Harry’s astonishment, for it had not seemed possible he could hear that whisper. “That’s what they think—the fools!”
Rattleton clutched Frank’s wrist.
“Look,” he panted; “she is coming! There she is!”
Out of the darkness within the mouth of the cave advanced the strange girl they had seen in the canoe. She was hatless, and she looked marvelously pretty with her golden hair hanging about her ears and reaching down upon her shoulders.