Roly hastily swallowed the remnants of a biscuit, and finished a cup of tea which he had set in a snowbank to cool. Then he ran down to the beach where David stood. The workmen were now seen to leave the spot where they had been collected. They walked rapidly to their shanty, which stood not far from the hole, and one man who had not started with the others came running after them. "I believe they are going to fire a blast," said David, and called his father and Long Peter to come and see the explosion. All the workmen had now taken shelter behind their shanty, and they were none too soon. A great cloud of earth and smoke, mingled with fragments of rock and timbers, puffed suddenly out from the bank, followed by a mighty detonation that echoed from peak to peak of the neighboring mountains. A moment later the Bradfords heard two or three stones strike around them. Mr. Bradford instantly realized that, great as the distance was, they were not out of danger. As he turned to warn the boys, there was a thud and a cry, and Roly sank to the beach, pressing his hand to his chest. In a twinkling his father and David were at his side. The poor boy could not speak, but moaned faintly once or twice. His face was white, and he hardly seemed to breathe, but retained his consciousness. They lifted him tenderly and laid him in the large tent, where Mr. Bradford gave him brandy, felt his pulse, and then unbuttoned the heavy Mackinaw overcoat, the inner coat, and the underclothing. As he bared the boy's breast, he could not restrain an exclamation of surprise and pity. Through all that thick clothing the stone had left its mark,--a great red bruise on the fair skin, and so great was the swelling that he feared a rib had been broken. Such happily was not the case, and Mr. Bradford heaved a sigh of relief as soon as he had satisfied himself on that point. "It--it knocked the wind out of me," said Roly, faintly, when at last he could speak. "I should think it would have," said Mr. Bradford, with emphasis. "It would have killed you if it had struck you on the other side or in the head. Thank God it was no worse!" Long Peter, who had been poking around on the beach where Roly had stood, came up to the tent with a fragment of rock, which he handed to Mr. Bradford. It was the mischief-maker without a doubt. One side was smoothly rounded, but the other was rough and jagged, showing that it had been violently broken from the parent rock. It was but half as large as a man's fist, and Roly found great difficulty in believing that so small a stone could have dealt such a blow. CHAPTER VII CAMP AT THE CAVE