During the night it came on to rain again, and for three successive days water sluiced down from skies which never seemed empty of moisture. There was a gleam of sunshine the fourth day and though the jungle was like a shower bath Blythe took his machete and shovel squad to work.
At the end of the day they were back again. Sam had picked on a great lignum vitæ as the forked tree named in the chart and had come to disappointment, even as I had.
In the end it was Gallagher who set us right. By this time, of course, every member of our party had the directions on the chart by heart, though several had not read the paper. We had finished luncheon and several of the men were strolling about. I was half way through my cigar when Gallagher came swinging back almost at a run.
"Beg pardon, sir. Would you mind coming with me?"
"What is it?" I asked in some excitement.
"It may not amount to anything. I don't know. But I thought I'd tell you, Mr. Sedgwick."
He had been lying down on the sand where it ran back to the jungle from the farthest inlet. Kicking idly with his heel he had come to solid stone. An examination proved to him that he was lying on a big rock covered with sand.
"You think this is the Big Rock," I said, after I had examined it.
"That's my idea. Stand here, sir, at the edge. You can't see the tongue of the spit, can you?"
"No, but that doesn't prove anything. We can't see it from this inlet at all."