“I do not mention these matters to worry you, men, but that, knowing our dangers, we may be prepared to face them.
“Then,” he continued, “there is the king of this island and his warriors to be thought about. Fools, indeed, were we did we not reckon on these, for they constitute the danger that presses most, now that we are wrecked—the danger, probably, first to be faced.”
“You think, then, they will return?”
James Malone pointed to the far-off volcanic hill, which was once more belching forth smoke.
“They will return,” he said, “when yonder cloud rests no longer on the mountain top.
“Yes, brother, it might be possible to make friends of them. But I doubt it. Treachery is written on every lineament of their black and fearsome faces. I should never, never trust them.
“And now, men,” he continued, after a thoughtful pause, “I have painted our situation in its darkest colours. Let us see, then, where the light comes in. The light and the hope.”
As he spoke he took from his bosom a little Bible and those big horn “specs” that Halcott mentioned in his story. These last he mounted on his nose, and turning over the leaves read solemnly as follows:—
“‘God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
“‘Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.