“We must get away from this spot!” gasped Jack. “If we don’t, we’ll be buried alive!”
The rope had fallen at his feet. He picked it up. There was a noose at one end and this he whirled upward.
Twice he missed the object for which he aimed, but the third time the rope caught fast to a projecting rock.
“Now, Plum, up you go!” he said, and gave his companion a lift. Fear lent the Yankee lad strength and he went up hand over hand in rapid fashion. Jack followed, and in a moment more both stood on the surface of the island.
The sight that met their gaze was enough to make them shudder. On all sides the darkish-green water was spouting from the holes and cuts in the lake bed. Some of the columns arose to a height of a hundred feet, the water falling back into the basin with a tremendous report, and causing the drops to fly in all directions. At one point in the lake the water was already a foot or more deep.
“To the shore!” yelled Jack, and flew for a pony, while Plum did likewise. The animals were crazy with fear and could scarcely be controlled.
As they left the island there came another movement of the earthquake, followed by a crash behind them. They looked back, to see the lonely pimento tree fall into the very hole they had just left!
“Gosh! what a narrer escape!” gasped Plum.
“We are not out of it yet, Plum,” answered Jack. “Come, we must ride for all we are worth. Perhaps we had better throw away the gold.”
“No! no! Don’t do it!” screamed the Yankee lad. “We can make the shore if we hurry.”