“Yes,” the girl answered. Her voice came very low, quavering a little.
Two paces brought them again to the entrance of the corridor. There, with a hand touching either side, Saxe made sure of the exact direction in which he faced, and from this he judged his course, for he remembered the relative positions of the passage by which they had come into the big room and of the shadows he had seen on the opposite wall. He had in mind as well his estimate of the diameter of the chamber, and so, when he had made sure of his direction he set off boldly, after again taking Margaret by the hand. He lengthened his stride a trifle, to make it the measure of a pace. When he had counted fifteen steps, he reduced his speed, and moved with caution, groping before him. A moment later, his hands encountered the wall. He was confident that he had held his course fairly straight in crossing the chamber, and was certain, in consequence, that the opening into the passage must lie a little to his left. He therefore drew Margaret in this direction. An instant later, to his joy, his left hand found emptiness. Without a word, the two hurried forward, and presently they saw before them a dim glow that was the first hint of outer light. Saxe fell behind the girl as the passage narrowed. Margaret quickened her steps to a run, and he held fast at her heels. In the same second with her, he issued from the cavern, and sent forth a huge shout, which was a little for escape from the cave, but chiefly for a primitive, masterful delight in the woman beside him. Margaret smiled sympathy with his mood—and her smile, it may be, was divided in its sources, even as was the lover’s cry of triumph.
The girl’s face was mantled with blushes. But she spoke bravely, with a dainty air of inconsequence.
“Why, how late it is!” She pointed toward the west. “See, the sun has set already, we were in there for ages.”
“Yes,” Saxe agreed. “And it’s like rebirth to come back—rebirth into a new, glorious life.” With an effort, he checked himself, for he would not embarrass her now, though passion bubbled to his lips. “We must paddle over to where the rest are, and let them know about the cave at once.”
The news brought by the two created a lively excitement among the others, along with a considerable feeling of relief, for the continued absence of Margaret and Saxe had been inexplicable, until Billy Walker quoted, with ostentatious carelessness:
Love’s a virtue for heroes—as white as the snow on high hills,
And immortal as every great soul is that struggles, endures and fulfills.
At this utterance from the seer, who was by no means prone to sentimental rhapsodizing, Roy appeared at first puzzled, then enlightened, and he smiled—nor speculated more as to the whereabouts of his missing friend, while David grinned appreciatively, and accepted the innuendo as a sufficient explanation of Saxe’s absence even in this crisis of affairs.
For the rest, the three, with some assistance from Jake, had passed a busy afternoon, without accomplishing anything beyond a disheartening certainty that the gold had been very effectually concealed. Much of the cove was shallow, and Billy Walker had suited his convenience by pursuing his investigations of these portions from the launch which Jake guided to and fro as required. The clearness of the water made it possible to see the bottom distinctly except at the greatest depths, and in this comfortable fashion Billy conducted his search, smoking the inevitable black cigar. In the deeper parts, Roy, clad in a bathing-suit, made such examination of the bottom as he might by diving. David either assisted Billy in the scrutiny from the launch, or hunted over the islands near the shore. At no time did it occur to them to extend their researches so far as the island on which Saxe and Margaret had landed. They had just come to the conclusion that they must give over work for the day, and were again beginning to feel concern in regard to the continued absence of the heir himself, when they were startled by a hail in the voice of the missing man. They stared out over the lake, and perceived the canoe darting toward them, with Margaret plying a skilled paddle from the bow. Jake, who had just bent to the fly-wheel of the engine to crank up, dropped again to the bench; the others stood up and shouted. They had no least suspicion that the truants could be bringing news of the treasure. When finally the light craft ranged alongside the launch, and the story of the cavern was told, there were wonder and satisfaction. Roy was the first to make a suggestion as to the course to be pursued.