gone through, were not easily depressed. It was, indeed, rather difficult, standing on that tree-fringed curve of rock and sand between the thunder of the surf and the calm of the lagoon, bathed in sunshine under a sky of flawless blue, to give way to complete despair.
But when three days passed without a drop of rain, without a sail breaking the monotony of the great circle of the sea, and our water supply was nearly gone, the charm of the lovely isle began to fade.
To keep our minds busy, we talked over our plans in case we were rescued. We knew it would be extremely difficult to convince the world of the truth of our story, but we thought that if we could get the Star Shell safely home, and Mark could produce his calculations and formulas before competent scientific men, we might be believed in time. Much depended upon those precious documents, and on the Jovian photographs and curios that were snugly stored in the Shell.
It was shortly after daybreak on the fourth day, as we three were standing on the highest point of the reef—Norden had wandered away by himself—that the end came.
"A ship!" cried Dandy, huskily. "A small ship, full of sail! Here coming!"
Following the direction of his pointing finger, we saw a schooner bearing down upon the island, her sails silhouetted upon the rosy glow of the dawn.
We shook each other's hands, danced, croaked—our throats were too dry to shout—and waved our hats in the abandon of relief. We were saved.
"Our good luck holds out right to the end," said Mark. "We shall evidently have to die in our beds, of old age, no matter what happens. Hullo! What’s Norden doing?"
The professor had evidently seen the ship before we had, for he was already on the shore, running, and nearly at the Shell. We did not move, for we were too far away to stop him, whatever mischief he might be planning. Long before we could reach him, he would be safely inside our precious vehicle.
"The treacherous hound means to leave us—to steal the Shell—to make a journey on his own account," said I. "It will be suicide, for he can not work the vessel himself, nor is it provisioned now."
Utterly helpless, we stood and watched the last act in the life-drama of the wonderful Star Shell.
Norden reached it, climbed up, and stood in the open doorway for a moment, holding out a round, black object at arm's length for us to see. The faint sound of his husky voice, his cackling laughter, came to us on the sea breeze, mingled with the thunder of the surf.
The climax was sudden, unexpected. Norden appeared to stumble, tried to recover his footing, lurched backward, and disappeared into the Shell. Instantly a blaze of light burst out, vivid even in the sunshine, a cloud of smoke arose, and a bang of fierce explosive sound shook the air. Then the gale blew the cloud away, and where the Shell had lain was merely a great hole in the sand.
"That was a Jovian bomb," said I. "You remember that one was missing in the great battle. Norden must have stolen it. What he intended to do we shall never know now. Perhaps he was going to blow us all up with it later. Anyhow he has only done himself in, praise be."
"Only?" asked Mark.
"Oh, the Star Shell! You can build another one, old fellow."
"With all my papers and formulas, the results of years of work,
