It was a long and stiff walk to Lone Tree Hill; but arrived there, they set to work at once to dig at the eucalyptus root. The holes made—Dickson’s to the east, Reginald’s to the west—the nuggets, enclosed in strong tarpaulin bags, were laid in, and next the pearls, in small cash-boxes, were placed above these. The earth was now filled in, and the sods replaced so carefully and neatly that no one could have told that the earth had ever been broken or the sods upturned.
Then, breathing a prayer for the safety of their treasure, on which so much might depend in future, they walked silently down the hill and back to the camp.
But that very night—or rather towards morning—an event took place that alarmed all hands.
The earth shook and trembled, and finally heaved; and it felt as if the house were a ship in the doldrums crossing the Line. Everyone was dashed on to the floor, and for a time lay there almost stunned, giddy, and even sick. It passed off. But in an hour’s time a worse shock followed, and all hands rushed into the open air to seek for safety.
Outside it was not only hot and stifling—for not a breath of wind was blowing—but the air had a strange and almost suffocating sulphurous odour. And this was soon accounted for. Now, not far from Lone Tree Mountain was a high and conical hill.
From this, to the great astonishment of all, smoke and flames were now seen issuing. The flames leapt in marvellous tongues high up through the smoke. There was the whitest of steam mingling with the smoke, and anon showers of dust, scorai, and stones began to fall.
For a minute or two the sight quite demoralised the trio. But the men, too, had run out, and all had thrown themselves face down on the ground while the heaving of the earth continued. It was a new experience, and a terrible one. Dickson went towards them now.
“I do not think, boys, that the danger is very extreme,” he said. “But I advise you to keep out of doors as much as possible, in case of a greater shock, which may bring down our humble dwelling. And now, Hall, and you, Reginald,” he added, “the ladies at the palace will, I fear, be in great terror. It is our duty to go to them. Our presence may help to cheer them up.”
Daylight was beginning to dawn, though from rolling clouds of smoke in the far east the sun could only be seen like a red-hot iron shot. It was evident enough to our heroes when they had climbed the highest intervening hill, that the island from which the Armada had come was far more severely stricken than this Isle of Flowers was.