The great heat of the day was over and the sun already dropping behind the peak of the island.  Mr. Shaw and Cuthbert had been allowed to sit in the shade, and I thought their wrists were not too tightly bound for comfort.  Cookie had been released, and under the eye of Horny was getting supper.  Crusoe had earlier in the day received a kick in the ribs from Captain Magnus, fortunately too much occupied with the prisoners to pursue his vengeance further, and had fled precipitately, to my enormous relief.  The dog was quite wise enough to know that he would help me best by keeping out of the clutches of our common foe.  I hoped he had gone back to his solitary pig-chasing, though I thought I had caught a glimpse of him once at the edge of the wood.  But at least he knew better than to venture into the clearing.

I tried to pass in a casual manner close to Mr. Shaw and Cuthbert—­who looked more of a crusading Norman than ever—­in hopes of a whispered word, but was impeded by Aunt Jane, who clung to me tottering.  So I led her to a seat and deposited her, with the sympathetic assistance of Slinker.

“Now, now, old girl, cheer up!” he admonished her.  “Between you and me, old Washtubs ain’t worth crying over.  Sooner or later he’d of give you the slip, no matter how tight a rein you kep’ on him.”

As Slinker turned away after this effort at consolation he came face to face with Miss Higglesby-Browne.  I suppose in the stress of surprising and capturing the camp he had not been struck with her peculiarities.  Just now, between the indignity of her captive state and the insubordination of Aunt Jane, Miss Browne’s aspect was considerably grimmer than usual.  Slinker favored her with a stare, followed by a prolonged whistle.

“Say,” he remarked to me in a confidential undertone, though pitched quite loud enough for Miss Browne’s ears, “is it real?  Would it have bendable j’ints, now, same as you and me?”

Miss Browne whirled upon him.

“’Old your tongue, you ’orrid brute!” she shrieked.

So, in the twinkling of an eye, Miss Higglesby-Browne, fallen forever from her high estate, was strewn in metaphorical fragments at our feet.  I turned away, feeling it time to draw the veil of charity upon the scene.  Not so Slinker.  He looked about him carefully on the ground.

“Lady drop anything?” he inquired solicitously.

What might have transpired, had Miss Higglesby-Browne had time to gather breath, I dare not think, but just then there came from the woods the sound of footsteps and voices, and the three pirates and Mr. Tubbs entered the clearing.  A thrill ran through the camp.  Captors and captives forgot all else but the great, the burning question—­had the treasure been discovered?  And I am sure that no one was so thrilled as I, although in my mind the question took another form.

For now I was going to know what had been waiting for me there in the cave, when I stood yesterday at its black entrance, afraid to go in.