Then he gave a steady pull to the cord.  The sharp crack of a rifle came from the vicinity of the old quarry.  He saw the flash among the trees.  Almost simultaneously a bright light leapt from the opposite ledge, illumining the vicinity like a meteor.  It lit up the rock, showed Iris just vanishing into the safety of the ledge, and revealed Jenks and the Dyaks to each other.  There followed instantly a tremendous explosion that shook earth and air, dislodging every loose stone in the south-west pile of rocks, hurling from the plateau some of its occupants, and wounding the remainder with a shower of lead and debris.

The island birds, long since driven to the remote trees, clamored in raucous peal, and from the Dyaks came yells of fright or anguish.

The sailor, unmolested further, reached the ledge to find Iris prostrate where she had fallen, dead or unconscious, he knew not which.  He felt his face become grey in the darkness.  With a fierce tug he hauled the ladder well away from the ground and sank to his knees beside her.

He took her into his arms.  There was no light.  He could not see her eyes or lips.  Her slight breathing seemed to indicate a fainting fit, but there was no water, nor was it possible to adopt any of the ordinary expedients suited to such a seizure.  He could only wait in a dreadful silence—­wait, clasping her to his breast—­and dumbly wonder what other loss he could suffer ere the final release came.

At last she sighed deeply.  A strong tremor of returning life stirred her frame.

“Thank God!” he murmured, and bowed his head.  Were the sun shining he could not see her now, for his eyes were blurred.

“Robert!” she whispered.

“Yes, darling.”

“Are you safe?”

“Safe! my loved one!  Think of yourself!  What has happened to you?”

“I fainted—­I think.  I have no hurt.  I missed you!  Something told me you had gone.  I went to help you, or die with you.  And then that noise!  And the light!  What did you do?”

He silenced her questioning with a passionate kiss.  He carried her to a little nook and fumbled among the stores until he found a bottle of brandy.  She drank some.  Under its revivifying influence she was soon able to listen to the explanation he offered—­after securing the ladder.

In a tall tree near the Valley of Death he had tightly fixed a loaded rifle which pointed at a loose stone in the rock overhanging the ledge held by the Dyaks.  This stone rested against a number of percussion caps extracted from cartridges, and these were in direct communication with a train of powder leading to a blasting charge placed at the end of a twenty-four inch hole drilled with a crowbar.  The impact of the bullet against the stone could not fail to explode some of the caps.  He had used the contents of three hundred cartridges to secure a sufficiency of powder, and the bullets were all crammed into the orifice, being tamped with clay and wet sand.  The rifle was fired by means of the string, the loose coils of which were secreted at the foot of the poon.  By springing this novel mine he had effectually removed every Dyak from the ledge, over which its contents would spread like a fan.  Further, it would probably deter the survivors from again venturing near that fatal spot.