Robert steadied himself, made a mighty effort, and they went on. The wind shifted now and the rain drove directly in his face. It was cold to him, but it seemed to whip a little increase of vigor and strength into his blood, and he was able to go somewhat faster. As he pulled along with his burden he looked curiously at the region through which he was traveling. The ground was rough, often with layers of coral, and he saw on all sides of him dense groves of bushes, among which he recognized the banana by the fruit. It gave him a thrill of relief. At all events here was food of a kind, and they would not starve to death. It was the first time he had thought of food. Hitherto he had been occupied wholly with the struggle for immediate life. A belt of tall trees shut out the hill toward which he had been steering, and he was uncertain. But the man gave him guidance. "More to the right, Peter," he said. "I won't let you go astray, and it's full lucky for us both that I know this island." A half hour of painful struggle and Robert saw the dark shape of a small house in the lee of a hill. "It's the hut, Peter," said the slaver, "and you've done well to bring us here. You're not only a good lad, but you're strong and brave, too. You needn't knock at the door. No one will answer. Push it open and enter. It really belongs to me." Robert obeyed while the man steadied himself sufficiently to stand alone. He thrust his hand against the door, which swung inward, revealing a dark interior. A musty odor entered his nostrils, but the hut, whatever its character, was dry. That was evident, and so it was welcome. He went in, helping the wounded man along with him, and standing there a moment or two everything became clear. It was more than a hut. He was in a room of some size, containing articles of furniture, obviously brought across the sea, and clothing hanging from the wall on hooks. A couch was beside one wall, and two doors seemed to lead to larger chambers or to small closets. The captain staggered across the room and lay down on the couch. "Well, how do you like it, Peter?" he asked. "'Twill serve in a storm, will it not?" "It will serve grandly," replied Robert. "How does it come to be here?" "I had it built. The islands all the way from the Bahamas to South America and the waters around them are the great hunting ground for people in my trade, and naturally we need places of refuge, secluded little harbors, so to speak, where we can commune with ourselves and refresh our minds and bodies. Even rovers must have periods of relaxation, and you'll find a lot of such places scattered about the islands, or, rather, you won't find 'em because they're too well hidden. I had this built myself, but I never dreamed that I should come back to it in the way I have."