“Where do you go first?” asked the captain.
“Not sure. Do you know, Moses?”
“No; no more’n de man ob de moon. P’r’aps Borneo. He go dar sometimes.”
At this point another roar from the volcano, and a shout from the leader of the excursionists to return on board, broke up the conference.
“Well, lad, I’m glad I’ve seen you. Don’t forget to write your whereabouts. They say there’s a lot o’ wild places as well as wild men and beasts among them islands, so keep your weather-eye open an’ your powder dry. Good-bye, Nigel. Take care of him, Moses, and keep him out o’ mischief if ye can—which is more than ever I could. Good-bye, my boy.”
“Good-bye, father.”
They shook hands vigorously. In another minute the old seaman was sailing down the cinder-cone at the rate of fourteen knots an hour, while his son, setting off under the guidance of Moses towards a different point of the compass, was soon pushing his way through the tangled forest in the direction of the hermit’s cave.