Part 44 (1/2)

”I vill vager,” said the aeronaut, who stood beside them, gazing upwards at the bright light and the circling birds--”I vill vager my big balloon dat de same idea has struck me myself.”

”Whisper,” said the captain.

The aeronaut did so, and McBain burst out laughing.

”How funny!” he remarked; ”but you are perfectly right, De Vere; only keep it dark for a bit.”

”Oh yes,” said De Vere, laughing in turn; ”very dark; as dark as--”

”Hush?” cried McBain, clapping a hand on his mouth.

”How tantalising!” said Rory.

”You'll know all about it in good time,” McBain said; ”and now, boys, we've got to prepare for winter in right good earnest. Duty before pleasure, you know. Now here is what I propose.”

What he did propose was set about without loss of time. Little Ap was summoned aft.

”Can you build barrows?” asked McBain.

Little Ap took an immense pinch of snuff before he replied.

”I have built many a boat,” he said, ”but never a barrow. But look, you see, with the help of the cooper and the carpenters I can build barrows by the dozen. Yes, yes, sir.”

”Bravo, Ap!” cried McBain; ”then set about it at once, for we are all going to turn navvies. We are going,” he added, ”to excavate a cave half-way up that brae yonder on the starboard quarter. It will be big enough, Ap, to hold the whole s.h.i.+p's crew, officers and all. It will be a glorious shelter from the cold, and it will--”

”Stop,” cried Sandy McFlail. ”Beg your pardon, sir, but let me finish the sentence: it will give the men employment and keep sickness away.”

”That's it, my worthy surgeon,” said McBain.

”Bravo!” said Sandy. ”I look upon that now as--”

Sandy paused and reddened a little.

”As a vera judeecious arrangement,” said Rory, laughing. ”Out with it, Sandy, man.”

Rory edged off towards the door of the saloon as he spoke; the doctor kicked over his chair and made a dart after him, but Rory had fled.

Hardly, however, was the surgeon re-seated ere his tormentor keeked in again.

”Eh! mon, Sandy McFlail,” he cried; ”you'll want to take a lot more salt in your porridge, mon, before ye can catch Rory Elphinston.”

On the hillside, fifty feet above the sea level, they commenced operations, and in a fortnight's time the cave was almost completed; and not only that, but a beautiful staircase leading up to it. The soil was not hard after the outer crust was tapped, although some veins of quartz were alighted upon which required to be blasted. Several times they came across the trunks of huge trees that seemed to have been scorched by fire, the remains, doubtless, of the primeval forest that had once clad these hills with a sea of living green. Nor were bones wanting; some of immense size were turned up and carefully preserved.

Rory made a careful study of the remains of the animal and vegetable life which were found, and the result of this was his painting two pictures representing the Past and Present of the strange land where their vessel now lay. The one represented the _Arrandoon_ lying under bare poles and yards in the ice-locked bay, with the wild mountainous land beyond, peak rising o'er peak, and crag o'er crag, all clad in the garments of eternal winter, and asleep in the uncertain light of the countless stars and the radiant Aurora. But the other picture! Who but Rory--who but an artist-poet could have painted that? There are the same formations of hill and dale, the same towering peaks and bold bluffs, but neither ice nor snow is there; the glens and valleys are clad in waving forests; flowers and ferns are there; lichens, crimson and white, creep and hang over the brown rocks; happy birds are in the sky; bright-winged b.u.t.terflies seem flitting in the noonday suns.h.i.+ne, and strange animals of monstrous size are basking on the sea-sh.o.r.e.

Rory's pictures were admired by all hands, but the artist had his private view to begin with, and, among others like privileged, aft came weird old Magnus. First he was shown the picture of the Past.

He gazed at it long and earnestly, muttering to himself, ”Strange, strange, strange.”

But no sooner was the companion picture placed before him, than he started from the chair on which he had been sitting.

”I was right! I was right?” he cried. ”Oh! bless you, boy Rory; bless you, Captain McBain. This--this is the Isle of Alba. Yonder are the dear hills. I thought I could not be mistaken, and not far off are the mammoth caves. I can guide you, gentlemen, to the place where lies wealth untold. This is the happiest day of old Magnus's life.”