“Well, you and your cousin have been very ill. You were brought here four weeks ago and at first we despaired of your lives. You are both much better now, and we hope to have you up very soon. Now don’t talk any more—” “Nurse,” he pleaded. “Just one more question.” He pondered a minute. “It was June at Marshfielden when—Why it must be 1915!” he finished quickly, Nurse Wylton frowned. Was this a new form of delirium? “Now don’t ask questions—” “Nurse, Nurse—I must know! We’ve been away a long time. If this is June, then it _must_ be 1915.” “We are a long way past 1915,” said the nurse quietly. “This is June, 1920. You must have mistaken the date.” Alan looked at her in blank amazement. “1920,” he muttered. “Desmond”—hoarsely—“did you hear that?” “Now don’t talk any more,” commanded the nurse—and she drew the green blinds across the window, and shut out the brilliant sunlight. As soon as she had gone, Desmond spoke. “Six years in that Hell! I can’t realize it. Over six years cut right out of our lives!” “I don’t know how we are to explain our presence in the mine,” said Alan thoughtfully. “I don’t think it will be altogether wise to tell our whole story. I’d rather Uncle John knew first. He would, perhaps, get old Sir Christopher Somerville to organize an expedition to Kalvar.” “Yes,” said Desmond, “a properly equipped exploring party would find it comparatively easy to prove the truth of our story. Why we have made one of the biggest racial discoveries of the century. Historically and scientifically we shall have benefited the whole world by our experience.” “Poor Jez-Riah,” said Alan suddenly. “What an end!” The first day the boys were coherent, they had asked about their little purple companion, and it was Nurse Wylton who had broken the news of her “death.” The boys had taken it very quietly—and the nurse was unable to form any ideas on the relation she bore to them. But they really felt towards her as they would have done to a domestic animal. They scarcely realized she was human. In fits and starts the cousins recounted their adventures to each other—even yet they could scarcely realize they had come through safely. Daily they both grew stronger, and the marks of privation and suffering which had so disfigured their features were nearly wiped away. They were afraid to cable old Sir John and tell him of their miraculous escape. “We must break the news gently to him—for he has mourned us both, and it may be too much of a shock for him to learn we are both alive and in Australia,” said Alan. Desmond chuckled. “Australia! Fancy coming out at the other end of the world! It’s almost like a fairy story, isn’t it? Do you remember we wondered where we should eventually land?” Nurse Mavis entered—her arms full of flowers. “Now,” said she briskly. “There’s too much talking going on. I am sure you will both overtax your strength. Besides I have a visitor for you this afternoon.” “A visitor?” echoed both boys.