It would be useless to recount the experiences of all of the parties.  They had four hours of search before them.  This would, at least, give some idea as to the nature of the mountain, and enable John to decide whether it would be wise to give that project further consideration.

At midday the parties began to appear, first Harry, then Sutoto, followed by John, and finally George.  The latter was the only one who was smiling.  The three early parties had no news to impart.

“What have you found?” were the hailing words of George, as he approached.

“Nothing! nothing!” were the answers.

“It takes me to bring home the goods,” he remarked, and Harry laughed in derision.

“No; but I mean it,” he continued.  “I have captured a modern, good-sized cave, and it is now awaiting to be explored.”

John could not believe the tale.  “You are to be congratulated.  Good boy!” Needless to add, George was the happiest person in that camp.

“Let us go down to see it at once,” said George in his eagerness.  “It is quite a distance, as it is not more than five hundred feet from the seashore.”

“Luncheon first,” remarked John, and no one interposed an objection, as the trip had sharpened the appetites of all.

The meal over little time was lost in making a start, and George led the way with his boys.  Truly enough, there was the open mouth, and it was cave-like.  Now for the mysteries within.  “We went in only about a hundred feet, so as to be sure we weren’t fooled,” said George, in reference to his discovery.

The lamps were then prepared, and all the preparations made, the boys being veterans in this sort of work, and John was ahead, as was generally the custom in these expeditions.

“This is as far as we went,” said George.  Beyond was still a wall which glistened from the streaming lights.

Gradually the walls came closer together; the track was a narrow one; so they had to march in single file.  John called a halt.  “I am afraid this is a blind hole,” he said, but George could not believe it, so the side walls were searched, for indications of some opening.

“This is the end of the cave.  Note the side walls.  If they should be pressed against each other they would fit exactly, showing that it is an opening caused by a fissure and not by erosion.”

Harry could not help but laugh.  All this time lost on a blind lead, and the laugh was on George.

Harry could not help jesting him.  “If you are a good tribe finder it is no sign that caves are in your line.”

John enjoyed the laugh on George, but the latter retorted:  “I think the joke is on you, for traveling all this distance to see a hole in the ground.”

There was not the sign of a cave on the island, aside from the one discovered (?) by George, so the party remained that night at the mountain top, and in the morning descended the hill, and slowly marched to the north.  Before noon they entered a beautiful stretch of woodland, with luxurious grass growing all around in profusion.

“This is as far as the guards have been permitted to go,” said one of the natives, who had volunteered the information about the place the day before.

Thus far not a human being was visible.  An hour’s march would bring them to the village of the criminals, and the boys began to examine their weapons, and to look apprehensive.

The wild fruits of the tropics were now seen in abundance in every direction.  Bananas, the Bread Fruit, Cocoa, and Date Palm, on every hand.

The most astonishing thing, however, was the profusion of flowers, of every variety, seemingly, and the air was scented as with one vast bouquet.

Sutoto stopped and pointed ahead:  “They are in the trees gathering fruit.”  The party halted, and looked, and then proceeded.

They were, undoubtedly, the first of the criminals.  A half mile beyond, and in a plain road, were several of the inhabitants.  Those in the trees, two men and a boy, descended, and, together with two women, walked across the field, to witness the newly-arrived criminals, as they supposed.

They were astounded at the appearance of the party.  The Chief’s son addressed the men, and told them who they were, and their mission.  As this was the first time that such a visit had ever been made, the man instructed the boy to run to the village and inform the people, and he scurried away.

Meantime the party moved on, and, as they proceeded, more and more of the inhabitants were seen.  To the right were people in the fields, engaged in some sort of work there.  This was singular.  Nothing of that kind was seen in the village where Beralsee was chief.

“What is the name of this town where the convicts live?” asked Harry.

“Hutoton,” replied Calmo.

“And what is the name of your town?”

“Sasite.”

“Rather queer names, I should say,” exclaimed Harry.

John laughed and glanced at Harry, as he said:  “I wonder how Unity, and Pioneer, and Mayfield, and the queer English names sound to them!”

“Oh, I suppose they have some good reason for having such names.”

“Yes; for the same reason that we apply names to certain things.  See what a wonderful expression there is in the word ‘Harsh,’ and how expressive it is compared with its opposite ‘soft.’  How the first word grates, and the second comes out so smoothly.  Then, compare ‘swift’ and ‘slow’; or ‘sweet’ and ‘sour.’  Ugh!  I can almost taste the last word.”

John roared, as he saw the serious aspect of Harry’s face.  But other sights now attracted their attention.  A group of men and women appeared.  How strange the natives looked.  They were well dressed, that is, judged from the people in Sasite, and they were people of good deportment, if those of the inhabitants that accompanied them were fair specimens.

At the head of the villagers was a man of striking appearance, tall, with white hair, such as you would call distinguished, because he differed from most around him.  The women were well clad, and the children plump and vigorous in their actions.

Something must be wrong!  These people were not criminals!  The old man came forward, and gave a respectful bow.  He looked at John and said a few words.  Calmo responded, his words when translated being:  “These are friends of my father, and they have come to visit you.”

At this the man gave another bow, and John went up and held out his hand, which the man took in a simple and unaffected manner.

“We welcome you to our village,” was his reply.

The boys looked at each other and relaxed their hold on the guns.  Was this, after all, the wicked place that had been described to them?  As they marched down to the village they were enchanted at the flowers which greeted them on all sides.

Here and there were garden spots, carefully kept, and when the first huts appeared beyond the grove, the boys simply gasped, and could hardly believe their senses.  Hundreds of Magnolia trees were in bloom; and the gentle breeze blowing in from the sea, moderated the rays of the sun, and wafted the odor of the plants many miles inland.

The homes were not rudely built, and, although they were on the same general plan of those in Sasite, they had every appearance of comfort.

The head man of the village led them to a more pretentious home, probably his own dwelling.  This was soon confirmed, as they were invited to enter and repose themselves on slightly elevated couches, so much like Chief Beralsee’s court.

Within a short time there was a great commotion in the village.  The boys looked around startled, and the old man noticed it, for he turned to Calmo, and said:  “The villagers are preparing a feast for you.  Let them go out and mingle with the people.”

The boys were happy at this opportunity of satisfying their curiosity.  Sutoto accompanied them, and with Calmo, they placed themselves under the guidance of a young man named Anasa, who, Calmo said, was the son of the old man.

They passed down the main street, for there was some semblance of order in the location of the huts.  Around the huts were flowers, just as they had seen on the path leading from the mountain, and here and there patches of growing vegetables.  After passing one rather attractive looking hut, Anasa paused for a moment, and then turned back, motioning for them to follow.  He entered, and the boys saw a villager, and two women within.

Anasa pointed to the figure of a man seated in a chair, and upon seeing it both boys started back in amazement.

“That is a white man,” cried Harry.

Anasa nodded, his manner indicating that he felt sure that the boys would recognize him as belonging to their race.  George went up to him, and held out his hand.  In response the man gave a listless look, and slowly raised the left hand, which was grasped by George, who said:  “I am glad to see you.  Who are you?  We are white, the same as you are.”

The man made no sign, and his arm dropped to his side as George relaxed his grasp.  Harry touched George on the shoulder, as he said:  “There is something the matter with him.  Ask Anasa about him.”

Calmo put the question, and this was the reply:  “We found the poor fellow on the beach many moons ago.  We brought him here, and tried to heal him, but he does not speak, and one side of him has no life.”

The man made no show of recognition, and the only motion observable was a twitching jerk of the left arm, and a slightly swaying motion of the head.

“John must know about this,” said George.

“By all means,” was the reply.

Calmo was told about the wonderful man John, and that he should be called at once, so one of the accompanying natives was instructed to bring John, and he speeded away on the errand.

George stood outside of the hut when John came up.  “This is a remarkable thing.  Did they tell you about it?”

“No.”

“There is a white man here.”

“Where?” asked John in astonishment.

“In the hut, and he is paralyzed and cannot speak.”

John did not wait for more, and as he went the head man followed him in.  Then they told him the story, and John stood there and gazed at the man.  To the boys who were by John’s side he remarked:  “I do not know him.  I do not think I ever saw him before.  How long has he been in this condition?” The old man responded:  “Ever since we picked him up on the shore, about tuta romama ago.”

“And how long ago was that?”

George informed him that Calmo received the information that it was over two years prior to that time, and as John received this information he passed his hand over his head, and, turning to Harry, said:  “We shall, probably, get at the bottom of another mystery.”

“What is it?  Why do you think so?” asked George in astonishment.

“Not now; not now!” answered John, wishing to defer discussion until they were out of the stricken man’s hearing.

The latter, however, did not in the least appreciate who were before him.  He was not at all perturbed by his visitors, nor when John quietly passed his hand along the poor man’s arm and body to satisfy himself of the extent of the paralytic stroke.

He winced but slightly when the examination of the left side was made, otherwise there was no sign of comprehension on his part.

“This is a remarkable thing,” said John, as they were returning to the old man’s dwelling.

“Why, is it a peculiar case?”

“The ailment itself is not remarkable; but there is something which passes my comprehension.”

“What is it!” asked the boys in, unison.

“These people are savages.”

“Yes; answered the boys.”

“And they are criminals,” he said as he stopped and looked at the boys, with an earnestness that surprised them.

It did not take more words to make them understand what John meant.  These people had taken this shipwrecked man, and tenderly cared for him during a period of more than two years.  This was done without hope of reward.  John learned later on that the natives of the town had made provision for the shipwrecked man and had compensated the people at whose home he was then living.

After the evening meal, John walked around the village, observing the people, and he found happiness everywhere.  Everything seemed to be arranged according to a system.  The old man was not a chief, but was looked upon as their advisor and guide; but he was a criminal, as were all the others in that town.

That evening when all were present John had the first opportunity to talk with the venerable chief of the town.

“How long have you been here?” he was asked.

He was silent for a moment and then answered:  “Thirty years.”

It must be understood that the questions and answers had to be translated and as the natives knew nothing about the division of time in months or years it was necessary to convert the time which was given by nature into terms of years and months.

Thus, they understood what a day meant, and they could calculate time, as all savages do, by the phases of the moon, and in many cases they were able to indicate time by the position of the sun, in which they recognized three phases only, namely, when the sun was directly above them, and when it reached the extreme northern and southern points.

“Why were you sent here?”

“Because I committed a crime.”

John was almost startled at the frankness of the confession, which the old man made without the least perceptible show of feeling or shame.

“Would you like to go back again?”

“Go back where?”

“To your home.”

He looked bewildered for a moment, and then answered:  “This is my home.”

“But I mean your old home at Sasite.”

The old man shook his head vigorously, and answered:  “No! no!  There is no place like Hutoton.”

“Do you know what ‘Hutoton’ means?”

“Yes; it means ‘the place of death.’”

The boys were startled at the reply.  John turned to them, when he saw their expression, and smiled.  The old man, too, smiled.

“Do any of your people want to go back?”

He looked surprised at the question.  “Do they want to go back?” he repeated the query.  “No; but you should ask them.  I do not know of any one who wishes to return.  We love our Chief too much to wish for such a thing.”

“Do you know what the people in Sasite think of this place?”

“No; not altogether; I am curious to know.”

“They believe it is a terrible place, and that the people who are sent here never have another day of peace or happiness.”

“And have they not changed their opinions?  I used to think so too, and we believed it of those who went before us; but we thought they might have changed their opinions, because we felt that people were growing better and not worse.  It is a long time since they sent us real criminals, and we thought the Chief’s people were growing wiser and happier.”

“When did the last criminals come here?”

“Nearly one year ago.”