I returned in time to render the same help to Miss Barbara Herndon, while Leith still remained upon the path, his manner suggesting that he had discovered something humorous in the situation.  Holman followed Miss Barbara, and then came the islanders, who scrambled over the ledge with that utter disregard for safety noticeable in the actions of the unimaginative savage.  Holman’s face seemed to have altered during the preceding thirty minutes.  The ready smile, which I had first noticed when he awakened me on the wharf at Levuka, was gone, and a set, defiant look had taken its place.  The happenings of the day before, or the possible forebodings concerning the immediate future, had changed him from a boy to a man.

Soma stood at the mouth of the cavern as we passed through, and he grinned at the Professor.  The Kanaka had discovered that the Professor placed a monetary value upon his information regarding the long-dead past, and he was ready to contribute to the contents of the fat notebook whenever the opportunity occurred.

“All good people in this party,” he cried.  “That’s mighty plain.”

The Professor dived for his lead pencil.  He had a scent for copy that a New York reporter would have envied.

“How is that, Soma?” he spluttered.

“Wizard men say so,” grinned the Kanaka.  “Wizard men tell much truth.”

“But what did the wizard men say?”

“They say that only the bad boys can slip,” answered Soma.  “No good men either.  Big hole just for bad people.  That what witch doctors say long, long time ago.  They call it Ledge of Death.”

The Professor’s pencil raced madly across the paper, and Holman looked back at the black depths with a grim smile upon his clean-cut features.

“I suppose there have been exceptions,” he remarked quietly.  “There are exceptions to every rule, and I suppose an occasional bad egg escaped a fall into this abyss in spite of the wizard men’s prophecy.”

Leith looked up quickly, and he flushed angrily when he found that the young fellow’s eyes were upon him.  Barbara Herndon gave a little hysterical laugh, and the Professor stopped writing and looked around inquiringly as if he was in doubt whether he had missed something of importance.

“What is it?” he inquired.  “I didn’t hear.”

“It was nothing,” replied Leith, in his slow, drawling voice.  “Holman suggested that the word of the wizard men might not be infallible, and lest we have some one who ran the gauntlet under false colours we had better move on so as to keep the exception out of danger.”