On the southern side of the expanse mentioned is a broad beach of white sand. From the side of a cliff which towers above this beach flows a fountain of water, very pure, clear, and cold, and equally abundant at all seasons of the year. This fountain is known throughout a large district of surrounding country as the Spout, and is some fifty yards from the spot where the road, leading down the ravine before-mentioned, enters upon the sands.
Just as Captain Marston and John Coe stepped upon the shore, and were turning to the left hand to seek the fountain, a short and stout man, about forty years of age, with long, curling locks of reddish-brown hair, and a face very darkly tanned by sun and breeze, and, probably, by battle, too—to judge by the marks upon his countenance—presented himself before them.
“Stand!” exclaimed this individual, planting himself directly in front of the two young men, and presenting a cocked pistol in each hand.
“We’ll see about that,” said John Coe, sternly, drawing a pistol also.
But Captain Marston placed a hand upon the arm of the angry young man.
“Don’t be so fast, John,” he said. “Don’t you see the twinkle in the fellow’s eyes? I am disposed to believe that this is but a jest after all. What do you want?” he continued, addressing the sailor.
“No one can go beyond this spot,” answered the stranger, “without giving the password.”
“A F E?” said Captain Marston, interrogatively.
“There seems to be something in that,” remarked the sailor; “but it will not answer.”
“How will this answer?” asked the captain. “‘All for Each?’”