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Updated: June 19, 2025
"This is the little devil," he said, indicating his delicate burden. "Fulminate of mercury. This is the stuff that'll remove your hand with neatness and despatch. It's the quickest tempered little article in the business. Just give it one hard look and it's off." "Here," said Trendon, "I resign. From now on I'm a spectator."
Not by so much as would admit a terrier did the mass of rock and rubble gape. "And Slade described the cave as big enough to ram the Wolverine into," muttered Trendon. Up to the point of the headland, and back, passed the boat. Blank disappointment was the result. "What is your opinion now, Dr. Trendon?" asked the captain of the older man. "Don't know, sir," answered the surgeon hopelessly.
"Penny-pop-pinwheel of a volcano, anyhow," remarked Trendon, disparagingly. "Real man-size eruption would have wiped the whole thing off the map, first whack." As they drew in, it became apparent that they must scale the cliff from the boat. Farther to the south opened out a wide cove that suggested easy beaching, but over it hung a cloud of steam. "Lava pouring down," said Trendon.
Captain Parkinson, stiff and erect in his chair, staring fixedly at a spot two feet above the reporter's head, seemed to weigh, as a judge weighs, the facts so picturesquely, set forth. Dr. Trendon, his sturdy frame half in shadow, had slouched far down into himself.
"And set up the sign of their shop," added Barnett. "If they stuck to their flag good-bye," observed Trendon grimly. "Dr. Trendon," said Captain Parkinson, "you will arm yourself and go with me in the gig to make a landing." "Yes, sir," responded the surgeon. "Mr. Barnett." "Yes, sir."
"Overdone," said Dr. Trendon, with some irritation. "Cost you something in strength. Foolish performance. Turn in now." Slade tried to protest, but the surgeon would not hear of it, and marched him incontinently to his berth. Returning, Trendon reported, with growls of discontent, that his patient was in a fever. "Couldn't expect anything else," he fumed.
But the schooner, after standing for a moment, all flapping, answered another flaw, and went wide about on the opposite tack. "Derelict," remarked Captain Parkinson. "She seems to be in good shape, too, Dr. Trendon!" "Yes, sir." The surgeon went to the captain, and the others could hear his deep, abrupt utterance in reply to some question too low for their ears. "Might be, sir. Beri-beri, maybe.
"As I expected," said Darrow quietly. The little craft opened out; it disintegrated. All that radiance dissolved and with its going the substance upon which it shaped itself vanished. The last glow showed a formless pulp, spreading upon the water. "So passed the Laughing Lass," said Darrow solemnly. "And the chest is at the bottom of the sea," said Barnett. "Good place for it," muttered Trendon.
He rose to his feet, turning a contorted face to the others. "Poisonous," he cried. "More volcano," said Trendon. He bent to the black hole and sniffed cautiously. "I'll go in, sir," volunteered Congdon. "I've had fire-practice." "My business," said Trendon, briefly. "Decomposition; unpleasant, but not dangerous." Pushing the lantern before him, he wormed his way until the light was blotted out.
Lying in the hollow of the sick man's right hand, where it had been crushed to a ball, was a crumpled mass of tracing paper. Trendon smoothed it out, peered at it and passed it to the captain. "It's a sketch of an Indian arrow-head," he exclaimed in surprise, at the first glance. "What are all these marks?" "Map of the island," barked Trendon. "Look here."
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