What seemed to be a long time elapsed before there was any sign, and then with a roar up came the volley of water again so instantaneously that they had only just time to flee to the other side of the basin to avoid a drenching, possibly a scalding, while to the surprise of all there was a dull thud. The water descended with its furious hissing and gurgling, rose again to the top, and then, judging from the sounds, came up less and less distances in its vast stony pipe, and then all was silent once more, and they were gazing at the piece of rock Mark had thrown down, now lying in the basin about three feet from the well-like central hole.
“That’s the way to make it spurt,” said the major, laughing. “The hot water-works don’t approve of stones, Master Mark.”
The men were delighted with the hot springs, and after the fashion of sailors were pretty ready at giving them names according to their peculiarities. One was “The Grumbler;” another “The Bear-pit.” A whistling hissing spring became “The Squealer.” One that gurgled horribly, “The Bubbly Jock;” whilst others were, “The Lion’s Den,” from the roaring sound; “The Trumpet Major;” and the noisiest of all, from which a curious clattering metallic sound came up, “The Bull in the China-shop.”
All at once the investigating party were aroused by a tremendous burst of laughter, which came from behind a clump of bushes where the men had gathered to watch the action of one of the smaller geysers.
The captain led the way toward the spot, for the noise was very boisterous, and as they approached it was to see the men rush away in the height of enjoyment, laughing again, for the spout of hot water, which seemed less steamy and hot, played up again and descended, while as it ran back with a low bellowing roar, the men followed quickly, evidently to watch its descent down the stony tube, just as so many boys might at play.
But there was no play here, for the comedy of running away to avoid a wetting with the hot water, and rushing back to look down, turned into tragedy. Short-legged Billy Widgeon, in his eagerness to be first, tried to take long strides like leaps, and bounded with a hop, skip, and a jump right into the wet basin, when the men set up a wild cry as, to the horror of all, they saw the little sailor’s feet glide from under him, his hands thrown up wildly to clutch at something to save himself, and then he seemed to glide down the narrow well-like hole and was gone.