The rival divers had met only two of the demons of the deep, but an awful conflict had occurred, and Walton had had his left arm nearly torn from the socket and was suffering from the effects of the water which had poured into his diving suit. "I'll not go down again," announced Vixen. "Not for a thousand dollars a trip." "What, you don't intend to give up the search already?" cried Lemuel Hankers, in horror. "I do." "But you agreed to find the _Happy Hour_," put in Bart. "You must stick to your agreement." "It's wuss nor putting your head into a lion's mouth," persisted Cal Vixen. "If you don't believe it, go down yourself." "I will go down--if you'll go with me," said Bart. He was so anxious to get the Washington fortune that his former timidity was overcome. Vixen held out all day about going down again, but several drinks of liquor at last made him bolder, and he agreed to try once more, providing Bart would go with him, and providing the bell was stored with explosives with which to fight off the demons if they showed themselves again. The day proved cloudy, and it looked as if a storm were brewing. "But I don't reckon we'll get it right away," said Captain Broadbeam. "And if you want to get ahead of the _Raven's_ crowd you had better go down. I see they are getting ready to put their bell over again." At half-past nine the _Swallow's_ diving bell was hoisted into the Pacific once more, and Dave and his father entered it. "We may never see you again, captain," said the young diver. "If we don't, good-by!" A minute later the diving bell disappeared beneath the surface of the mighty Pacific. CHAPTER XXX IN A DIVING BELL Down and down went the bell. The spot chosen was about five hundred feet to the northward of where the bell had gone down before--directly over the valley the divers had discovered. Amos Fearless was of the opinion that if the _Happy Hour_ was at all in that vicinity she must lie at the bottom of the valley. The dark zone of waters was passed, and now they came into the light once more. The water was warm and as clear as crystal, showing nothing of the dye and foam produced by the battle of the deep-sea monsters. A number of curious fish sailed past the diving bell--fish which they had not seen before. One was jet-black and shaped exactly like a pillow tied in the middle. Another was red, white, and blue, with six eyes which shone like stars of silver. "That's a regular starry-flag fish," was Dave's comment. "I wonder if we can take the sight of that for a good sign?" "Let us hope so," answered Amos Fearless, in his sign language. The old diver's voice was gradually improving, and that morning he had spoken a few words to Dave in a hoarse whisper. At last they came in sight of that mossy plain, which, the day before, had almost been the scene of their death.