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Updated: June 15, 2025
Holman was repeating a question over and over again, and I endeavoured to moisten my dry throat so that I could answer. "Where are we?" he groaned. "Where are we? Are you dead, Verslun? Open your eyes and take a look around; my peepers are bunged up." I managed to open my eyes, but I could see nothing but the encompassing jungle. For a few minutes I thought that we were alone.
"Looks as if something is coming, Verslun," cried Holman. "I was a fool to miss him, old man, but I guess oh, Gee!" The final exclamation was caused by a happening immediately beside us.
Holman turned and looked at him. "I wonder who it is?" he muttered. "Perhaps it is somebody with your board bill, Verslun." I started to laugh, then I stopped suddenly. The man on the wharf was shouting to us, and when my ears caught a word I recognized him. It was the big Maori who had been instructing the Fijian earlier in the afternoon.
Struggling forward, knee-deep in the fine, dry powder, we reached a spot that was practically clear, and for five minutes we were busy endeavouring to relieve our tortured lungs. "How far did we roll?" asked Holman. "About half a mile," I replied. "But straight, Verslun! What do you think?" "Over a hundred yards; I'm certain of that." "Well, I'm going to climb back." "You can't do it!" I gasped.
Leith," cried Miss Barbara, "we have just been investigating a mystery. Mr. Verslun discovered it this afternoon in Levuka. But you haven't met Mr. Verslun yet, have you?" "I haven't," growled the owner of the voice. "Mr. Verslun, this is Mr. Leith, who is father's partner," said Miss Barbara. "He knows a lot about the Islands, but he refuses to tell any of his experiences."
"If we could look out from under this projecting piece of rock," muttered the youngster. "It's risky." "I'll make a try, Verslun. Hold my legs. I'm going to hang out of this burrow and take a peep around to get our bearings."
Do you mean to say that he was ignorant of the fact that it was the Isle of Tears and not Penrose Island that we were making for?" Holman laughed at my question. "You haven't spoken much to him, Verslun. He couldn't remember the name of a place three minutes. He only knows that there are archaeological treasures on this island we are going to, and he doesn't care two cents about its name.
Holman and father and I will be with you, and perhaps Mr. Verslun will be in our company." Newmarch approached at the instant and squeaked out an answer to the request I had made the previous evening. "I asked Mr. Leith if you could go with him," he said, "but he doesn't think you would be of any use. He has all the help he requires, so you had better stay on the yacht."
There's something wrong with the place, Verslun. My skin feels it. The island looks as if it has been left too long by itself, and I'm beginning to think that all those rocks and trees are watching us and wondering what we want here." That was how it felt to me from the moment I had left The Waif, and I had tried vainly to overcome the feeling.
When I opened my eyes I looked up into the face of a good-looking young fellow of about two and twenty years, who was smiling broadly as if he thought it a great joke to wake a man out of a sound sleep on a hot afternoon. "Are you Jack Verslun?" he asked. I nodded. It was too warm to use words recklessly. "Pierre the Rat sent me after you," he continued. "Why?" I asked.
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