“But the young ladies?” I inquired, looking at Leith.  “Do you expect them to go down on to that path?”

“I don’t expect the young ladies to do anything against their inclinations,” he answered blandly.  “They have come with the expedition through no urging from me.  Regarding the ledge, there is absolutely no danger, and it is the only path by which we can reach the interior of the island.  Soma, go over the rim and show them.”

Edith and Barbara Herndon, with their father, moved up closer to the edge as the grinning Kanaka stepped forward to obey Leith’s order.  He walked quickly to the polished porphyry slab, moved cautiously to the extreme rim, then, turning his back on the crater, he dropped upon his hands and knees and lowered himself down till only his grinning face appeared above the top.

We crept closer and watched him walk along the ledge toward the cavern, apparently unaffected by thoughts of the death which a slip of his foot would bring upon him.  Returning to the spot beneath the polished slipping-off place he put his muscular hands into two clefts in the slab above and drew himself up on to the solid earth.

“No danger,” he cried.  “All boys go over here before they could call themselves men.  That long, long time ago.”

The Professor grabbed his notebook as he heard the explanation, and he immediately proceeded to deluge the Kanaka with questions.

“What was that?” he squeaked.  “You say all the boys had to climb over there?”

“That’s so,” grinned Soma.  “This place make ’em test.  Young boy go over this quick he make plenty good fighting man.  Feller go over slow he no good.”

The Professor’s pencil moved quicker than the pen of a court stenographer.  The Kanaka’s remark had brought him much copy, and the dangers of the path were forgotten as he jotted down the information.

“And they went over here?” he cried, his eyes wide open as he gazed at the edge of the crater.

“Right over here,” grinned Soma.  “See rock mighty slippery here.  All boys’ hands and feet do that.  Polish it mighty fine.”

“But surely this test is not carried on at the present time?” cried the scientist.  “When was this wonderful custom in force?”

“About the time that Christopher Columbus was paddling to America,” replied Leith.  “There are no natives on the Isle of Tears now.  Soma is speaking of a time when these islands were inhabited.”

The Professor gurgled like a drowning mule.  “This is a most interesting morsel of information,” he murmured.  “Hand me my camera, Barbara; I wish to take a snapshot of the place.”

The delay irritated Leith, but he kept his temper in check while the Professor fussed and focussed to get a good view of the spot.

“The old fool should be in a padded cell,” growled Holman.  “He’s so busy digesting that tale that he’s not thinking of the dangers of this path.  I’m going to speak to him aside.”