“Not a bit,” returned Garth. “It’s the queerest thing I ever knew. Mervyn can’t account for it either. The water simply ran out as though a hole had opened in the sea-bed. See, there is no water in sight anywhere; nothing but sand.” “It’s a licker!” The two men turned at the words. Haverly had entered the turret. “My word, Silas,” exclaimed Wilson, “you’ll get it hot if the professor sees you! You ought not to be up yet.” “I guess I’m the best judge of that,” retorted the American with a feeble smile. “I calculated as a constitutional ’ud set me up some, so here I am. But what in the name of blazes has come to the water? Have yer plumped the old boat down in the middle of a desert, or what?” Quickly Garth explained the extraordinary phenomenon they had witnessed. “And Mervyn can’t figure it out either?” questioned Haverly. “No,” returned the inventor, “he’s as much in the dark as we are. But here he comes; you can question him yourself.” “Say, Mervyn, can’t you enlighten us some?” Silas asked, as the scientist came in from the deck. “Whatever are you doing here, Silas?” he asked sternly. “You should not have ventured up so soon.” “I guess I’ll improve considerable more rapid up here than down below,” returned the Yankee. “Perhaps so,” was the reply, “if you only take care. But you must not abuse your returning strength.” “No, I cannot explain the phenomenon,” he went on, shaking his head, “though I fear it must be due to volcanic agency. Hark!” Again that thunder-like muttering rolled out of the distance, but the attention of the comrades was distracted from the ominous sound by a faint cry from Haverly. “Jupiter! Another fire-message!” Away over a spur of the distant hills an arch of fire flamed into view, and silhouetted against its golden splendour were eight grotesque figures. “Can you translate, professor?” cried Haverly; “these signs mean something or other, you can bet your boots.” Garth and Wilson waited eagerly for the scientist’s answer. It came at length. “Nordhu, son of Nordhu, will avenge his sire!” “And that’s the message?” the engineer asked, as the blazing bow waned and died. “That’s the translation,” returned Mervyn, abstractedly. “Then I guess we must look out for trouble, and that right soon,” remarked Silas. “If this new Nordhu’s anything like the old man, he’ll be on our trail in less than no time.” “We’re in a nice lively position to receive an attack of savages,” said Garth, “with the old _Seal_ as helpless as a log.” “I reckon we’ve come out of tighter corners than this yer,” retorted Silas, “though I allow I’d feel kinder easier if William and the Ayuti ’ud show up. You say they’ve gone to the city?” “Yes,” returned Wilson, shortly. “If they ain’t along presently,” pursued the Yankee, “they’ll find some of the wolfies laying for ’em. Them priests are real hustlers when it comes to a scrap. I’d advise as you loose a gun or two off. They might hear the reports.”