The night was spent at the dilapidated house without anything unusual happening, and early in the morning they got breakfast,--eating some birds Jack brought down with his pistol--and then went on their journey.
Noon found them on the main road, and an hour later they came across two of the members of Jack’s party.
“Well, I am glad to see you are alive,” said one of the men. “We had about given you up for lost.”
“I came pretty near being lost forever,” answered Jack, and once again had to tell his story. Then one of the men was despatched to bring up the rest of the party; and by nightfall all hands were together again.
“I shall certainly be more careful in the future,” declared Jack. “Such absent-mindedness does not pay.”
Fortunately some extra clothing had been brought along, and a suit was given to Plum, for which he was exceedingly thankful. That night Jack slept finely, and in the morning declared himself in the best of health.
Once again the party moved forward to the rocky bowl in the mountains holding the Devil’s Waters. By noon the summit of the ascent was gained and the party came to a halt. Then Jack went ahead accompanied only by Plum.
As soon as Jack reached a spot where he could look into the vast bowl he saw that something unusual had occurred. He was mystified and appalled and sat on his pony spellbound.
The roar and thunder of the mysterious boiling lake was gone. Not a sound broke the stillness of the mountainous scene. He looked down on a grass-covered valley, somewhat round, in size and having in its center a mound or “island,” upon which grew a lonely pimento tree. A branch of the tree, devoid of foliage, pointed like a great finger, to a cut in the great mountain bowl.
There was no mistaking such a landmark, and as Jack viewed it he gave a long low whistle.