It was early next morning when Van der Kemp and his man left their couches and descended to the shore, leaving their visitor enjoying the benefit of that profound slumber which bids defiance to turmoil and noise, however stupendous, and which seems to be the peculiar privilege of healthy infants and youthful seamen.

Perboewatan had subsided considerably towards morning, and had taken to that internal rumbling, which in the feline species indicates mitigated indignation.  The hermit had therefore come to the conclusion that the outburst was over, and went with Moses to make arrangements for setting forth on his expedition after breakfast.

They had scarcely left the cave when Nigel awoke.  Feeling indisposed for further repose, he got up and went out in that vague state of mind which is usually defined as “having a look at the weather.”  Whether or not he gathered much information from the look we cannot tell, but, taking up his short gun, which stood handy at the entrance of the cave, he sauntered down the path which his host had followed a short time before.  Arrived at the shore, he observed that a branch path diverged to the left, and appeared to run in the direction of a high precipice.  He turned into it, and after proceeding through the bushes for a short way he came quite unexpectedly on a cavern, the mouth of which resembled, but was much higher and wider than that which led to the hermit’s home.

Just as he approached it there issued from its gloomy depths a strange rumbling sound which induced him to stop and cock his gun.  A curious feeling of serio-comic awe crept over him as the idea of a fiery dragon leaped into his mind!  At the same time, the fancy that the immense abyss of darkness might be one of the volcanic vents diminished the comic and increased the serious feeling.  Ere long the sound assumed the definite tone of footsteps, and the dragon fancy seemed about to become a reality when he beheld a long narrow thing of uncertain form emerging from the darkness.

“It must be coming out tail-foremost!” he muttered, with a short laugh at his semi-credulity.

Another instant and the hermit emerged into the blazing sunshine, and stood pictured against the intense darkness like a being of supernatural radiance, with the end of a long narrow canoe on his shoulder.

As Nigel passed round a bush to reach him he perceived the dark form of Moses emerging from the depths and supporting the body of the canoe.

“I see you are active and an early riser,” said the hermit, with a nod of approval on seeing our hero.

“I almost took you for a Krakatoa monster!” said Nigel, as they came out in front of the cavern and laid the canoe on the ground.  “Why, you’ve got here one of the craft which we in England call a Rob Roy canoe!”

“It is fashioned on the same pattern,” said the hermit, “but with one or two alterations of my own devising, and an improvement—­as I think—­founded on what I have myself seen, when travelling with the Eskimos of Greenland.”