"And you won't tell me your master's name?" said Nigel.

Moses shook his woolly head. "No, sar, no. I's 'fraid ob him--he! he!
'fraid ob hurtin' his feelin's!"

"Well, never mind; I'll find it out from himself soon. By the way, what
were you telling me about explosions yesterday when that little white
gull came to admire your pretty face, and took off our attention?"

"Well, I dun know. Not got much to tell, only dar's bin rumblin' an'
grumblin's an' heavin's lately in de mountains as didn't use to be, an'
cracks like somet'in' bustin' down blow, an' massa he shook 'is head two
or free times an' look solemn. He don't often do dat--shook 'is head, I
mean--for he mostly always looks solemn."

A few minutes later the boat, running through a narrow opening among
the rocks into a small circular harbour not more than fifty yards in
diameter, rested its keel gently on a little bed of pure yellow sand.
The shore there was so densely covered with bushes that the harbour
might easily have been passed without being observed.

Jumping ashore, Moses made the painter fast to a tree.

"What a quiet, cosy place!" said Nigel, as he sprang on the beach and
looked admiringly round.

"Yes, an' not easy to find if you don't knows 'im. We will leabe de boat
here,--no danger ob bein' tooked away--an' den go up to de cave."