“Here comes another one!” cried Tom, reeling about.  He saw Mr. Damon and Mr. Fenwick topple to the beach.  The roaring increased, and the rumbling was like thunder, close at hand.  The island seemed to rock to its very centre.

Suddenly the whole cliff toward which they had been walking, appeared to shake itself loose.  In another instant it was flung outward and into the sea, a great mass of rock and stone.

The island ceased trembling, and the roaring stopped.  Tom rose to his feet, followed by his companions.  He looked toward the place where the cliff had been.  Its removal by the earthquake gave them a view of a part of the beach that had hitherto been hidden from them.

And what Tom saw caused him to cry out in astonishment.  For he beheld, gathered around a little fire on the sand, a party of men and women.  Some were standing, clinging to one another in terror.  Some were prostrate on the ground.  Others were running to and fro in bewilderment.

“More castaways!” cried Tom.  “More castaways,” and, he added under his breath, “more unfortunates on earthquake island!”

CHAPTER XVI

AN ALARMING THEORY

For a few seconds, following Tom’s announcement to his two companions, neither Mr. Damon nor Mr. Fenwick spoke.  They had arisen from the beach, where the shock of the earthquake had thrown them, and were now staring toward the other band of castaways, who, in turn were gazing toward our three friends.  There was a violent agitation in the sea, caused by the fall of the great cliff, and immense waves rushed up on shore, but all the islanders were beyond the reach of the rollers.

“Is it—­do I really—­am I dreaming or not?” at length gasped Mr. Damon.

“Is this a mirage, or do we really see people, Tom?” inquired Mr. Fenwick.

“They are real enough people,” replied the lad, himself somewhat dazed by the unexpected appearance of the other castaways.

“But how—­why—­how did they get here?” went on the inventor of the whizzer.

“As long as they’re not cannibals, we’re all right,” murmured Mr. Damon.  “They seem to be persons like ourselves, Tom.”

“They are,” agreed the lad, “and they appear to be in the same sort of trouble as ourselves.  Let’s go forward, and meet them.”

The tremor of the earthquake had now subsided, and the little band that was gathered about a big fire of driftwood was calmer.  Those who had fallen, or who had thrown themselves on the sand, arose, and began feeling of their arms and legs to see if they had sustained any injuries.  Others advanced toward our friends.

“Nine of them,” murmured Tom, as he counted the little band of castaways, “and they don’t seem to have been able to save much from the wreck of their craft, whatever it was.”  The beach all about them was bare, save for a boat drawn up out of reach of high water.