"I reckon it would go off like a pop-gun the first time the waves broke under it," replied Sayers. "But what's the use? We shan't be here to see what happens."
"I'll fill it up, just for fun," said Scott. "Let's see how deep it is first."
Lying at full length on the flat-topped rock, the Tenderfoot bared his arm and thrust it down.
"I can't reach anything like far enough, Sayers," he began. "It will take a lot of filling up——"
His remarks were rudely interrupted by a sudden rush of compressed air. Before Scott could throw himself clear of the blow-hole he was drenched to the skin by a torrent of water forced through the circular hole in the rock.
Sayers yelled with delight, but his mirth was brought to an abrupt termination by a regular waterspout from another blow-hole close to where he was standing. Slipping on the weed-covered rock, he subsided on his back, and while in this ignominious position he was completely enveloped in the falling spray.
At the first sign of the spout Atherton, Simpson, Phillips, and Coventry made a hurried dash for the boats. They were only just in time to prevent them from being dashed broadside on to the beach as three rollers in quick succession hurled themselves up the rocks.
"It must have been the swell of a steamer," declared Simpson, after the sea had resumed its placid condition.
"Steamer? I saw none within a mile or so of shore," remarked Phillips, "and the last one quite a quarter of an hour ago."
"That, no doubt, was the one that caused the three rollers," remarked Mr Buckley, who had overheard the Scouts. "The swell of a large steamer, travelling at a fair speed, will be felt five miles off, and at a considerable time after the ship has passed abreast of that part of the shore on which the waves break. But come along, lads, we've seen the blowing holes at work, and some of you have wet shirts in consequence."