"Come on!" he cried. "Don't be afraid. The futtin' is safe enough," and again he disappeared.
None of the others hesitated any longer. Dave went first, holding his breath as he took the plunge. To his surprise the falling body of water was less than four inches thick, and in a moment he found himself on a smooth, rocky floor.
"That's the greatest yet!" muttered Bob, when all were safe in the cave under the upper stream. "Don't the savages know of this?" he asked of the Irishman.
"Sure not. Once they followed me up the strame an' I scared the wits out av thim, talkin' to thim from the wathers!" And Pat Stoodles laughed loudly, a laugh that echoed and re-echoed throughout the cavern.
It was pitch-dark, but soon they had a light, and Stoodles brought forth a torch.
Then he led the way to a branch of the cave, on higher ground.
Here the flooring and walls were perfectly dry, and here the castaway had something of a comfortable home, with a rude table, a bench, a sea chest, and a cupboard with dishes and other household articles.
In one corner of the cave was a rough fireplace, the smoke of a fire going up through half a dozen small cracks.
It was easy to see that the castaway had not always been simple-minded.
"I knew him years ago quite well," said Captain Broadbeam. "He once sailed under me. He is suffering for the want of companionship. Many a castaway, you know, has gone stark mad through loneliness. The savages were really no company for him."