“Why, you see, he had for his people mostly wreckers; and one day when he was preaching so fine, some one brought word that there was a wreck floated in down the coast. Of course every man in the congregation started to run, leaving the preacher stuck up there in his high pulpit. So he calls out, and tells them how wicked it was to think of such things on a Sunday; and all the while he talks he’s a heading toward the door, calming the men, and holding of ’em spellbound like. But when the parson gets right up to the door he alters his tune immediate, for what does he shout out but: ‘Now boys, as every one has an even chance, let’s hurry down and see if we can save any poor sailorman from that terrible wreck!’ And away he goes at the head of the string, lickety-split for the beach. And p’raps that’s what our friend Donald here’s got in mind.” Both the others laughed at Billie’s story; but Donald did not seem inclined to either admit or deny the truth of the other’s accusation. Still Adrian could see that strange look on his face, and noted that Donald had taken up his station close alongside Billie, as though bent on restraining the other. They quickly reached the palms that waved above the spring. Everyone could see that it was a perfectly lovely resting spot. The afternoon sun was quite hot down in the valley there, and the shade under those palms, with their wide crowns of handsome leaves, seemed particularly inviting. But best of all was the gleam of the water that nestled in a fair sized cup under the trees. Billie had eyes only for this. “Oh! don’t it look great, though?” he was saying enthusiastically, as he hastened his pace, while the others kept alongside persistently. “Plenty for all of us, and the ponies in the bargain. We might fill up the canteens again with fresh stuff because there’s no tellin’ whether we’ll run across another spring as fine as this one seems to be.” “Yes, seems to be,” repeated Donald; but Billie was too anxious to get to drinking to pay any heed to the word. He led the procession, and reached the border of the pool. It certainly did present a most inviting aspect to those hot and tired boys, and small blame to Billie that he should immediately proceed to throw himself down alongside the spring, as though bent on carrying out his threat to lower it more or less. To his astonishment he felt someone grip him by the shoulder, before he could even wet his lips; and looking up in wonder, he saw it was Donald who held him. “Didn’t I tell you to go slow, Billie?” said the other, seriously; “and here you are, rushing headlong into trouble, without even bothering looking around. Just turn you head, and take a peep at what you see there.” Billie, his eyes as round as saucers with surprise, did so; and in another second he found himself staring at a piece of paper that was stuck in the cleft of a stick close to the water’s rim, and which had in large letters the one word “WARNING.” CHAPTER IX.