CHAPTER XIV.
THE SWORD IN CONFLICT WITH THE TUG.

DURING a sleepless night my thoughts followed the keg.
Many times I seemed to see it striking against the
rocks, turning up the creek or caught in some crevice.
A cold sweat bedewed my body from head to foot:
At last the tunnel is passed, the little cask is getting
through the channel—the tide is carrying it out to
sea. Heavens! if the flood were to bring it back to
the entrance and into the interior of Backcup! if when
daylight came I should see it! ...

At the first glimmer of dawn I rose and made my way
to the strand.

I looked around, slowly, closely, tremblingly !—nothing
was to be seen on the tranquil water.

During the following days the work of piercing the rock
went on under the same conditions. Serké blasted the
last rock at four o’clock this afternoon (the 23rd Sep-
tember). The communication is established—it is nothing
but a small rift through which one must scramble, but it
is enough. Outside, the opening is hidden among the