“Hah! That’s better,” he sighed. “Well, Panton, how do you feel?”
“I don’t know. So weak yet, but—yes, I am better, a good deal. I say, couldn’t we make a little expedition somewhere, say as far as that cavern where the sulphur hole goes right down into deep strata?”
“No, no, let’s keep out in the fresh air.”
“That’s better, gentlemen,” said the mate, descending in turn from the deck of the brig, which now looked quite like a fort with its breastwork of new planks. “Puts strength into you, don’t it, to get out here?”
“Oh, yes,” cried Panton, “now one has got over the first bit of it. I felt as if I was too weak to walk down, but I’m coming round now. Hi! One of you two go and get me my gun and the cartridges. Shall he bring yours, Lane?”
“Yes, I think so,” said Oliver rather dubiously though, as Panton shouted to “One of you two,” which proved to be Smith, who was standing looking out of a sheltered loophole with Wriggs.
“Think of going shooting?” said Mr Rimmer.
“Yes, a short trip would not hurt us, would it?” asked Oliver.
“No; do you good if you walk steadily and don’t go too far. You’ll go with them, Mr Drew?”
“Only too glad,” said that individual, “I’m longing for a bit of a trip. But hadn’t we better send out scouts first?”