“It can’t keep up forever,” said Phil, beginning to recover his cheerful outlook, “and if we’re not wrecked by earthquake or buried by lava for a week, we ought to be able to get off with the treasure and our lives as well. And then for the good old U. S. A. where they don’t have earthquakes.”
The boys brightened at this but still were inclined to be gloomy.
“Get away,” repeated Dick. “What will we get away in, I’d like to know?”
“We’ve got our radio outfit,” said Phil a bit uneasily, for he was thinking again of that curling film of smoke against the sky. “If worst comes to worst we can always radio for help. And,” he added confidently, “the worst isn’t going to come.”
And how could he know what was in store for them?
Just before they turned in that night there came another quake, slight, but just enough to revive the seasick feeling of the afternoon.
Poor Bimbo’s panic and dread of the island were steadily growing worse and in the darkness the boys could hear him muttering words that sounded as if he were praying.
“Poor Bimbo,” thought Phil as he yielded to the drowsiness that was stealing over him. “He sure is having a rotten time. We’ll have to see that he gets a—good part—of the—treasure——” And the next he knew he was opening his eyes to see the sun blazing merrily outside the cave. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
It didn’t take him long to get the fellows awake and stirring. It seemed as if the sunshine had some magic in it. Gone were the gloomy forebodings of the night before and as they got into their clothes sniffing hungrily at the breakfast Bimbo was getting for them they sang and bandied jokes as if they hadn’t a care in the world.
And, except for that patch of smoke that made a dark smudge against the brightness of the sky, they hadn’t. How many fellows, they asked themselves joyfully, would give their eyes to be in their shoes now. A treasure of untold riches waiting for them at the bottom of the sea and to-day—to-day—they would claim it. Lucky? Well, they’d tell the world!