The officers pressed forward.

"Mighty glad to see you out." "Hope you've got your pins under you
again." "Old man, I'm mighty glad we came along."

The chorus of greeting was hearty enough, but the journalist barely paid
the courtesy of acknowledgment. His eye swept the horizon eagerly until
it rested on the cloud of volcanic smoke billowing up across the setting
sun. A sigh of relief escaped him.

"Where are we?" he asked Barnett. "I mean since you picked me up. How
long ago was that, anyway?"

"Yesterday," replied the navigating officer. "We've stood off and on,
looking for some of our men."

"Then that's the same volcano----"

Barnett laughed softly. "Well, they aren't quite holding a caucus of
volcanoes down in this country. One like that is enough."

But Slade brushed the remark aside.

"Head for it!" he cried excitedly. "We may be in time! There's a man on
that island."

"A man!" "Another!" "Not Billy Edwards?" "Not some of our boys?"

Slade stared at them bewildered.