"Native?" I asked.
"No, him wear shoes."
The Raretongan crawled forward on his knees, his face close to the
grass. The tracks upon the soft grass showed that the person was moving
in the direction we were going, and for about twenty yards we followed
cautiously. Leith, the one-eyed white man, and the Professor were the
only three men on the Isle of Tears, outside Holman and myself, who
would be wearing shoes. It was hard to think that the Professor or Leith
would be alone at that moment, so I concluded, as we crawled along in
the shadow of the cliff, that the tracks were made by One Eye.
Maru suddenly sprang to his feet and stood listening. I listened too.
Into the awful silence came a tremendous rumbling that increased each
second till I pictured it as a cancer of noise growing with appalling
rapidity within the encompassing stillness.
"What is it?" I gasped. "Why it's----"
I understood at that moment, and I sprang toward the jungle, but the
big hand of the Raretongan gripped my shoulder and dragged me close to
the cliff beneath an overhanging ledge.
"Stay here!" he yelled, raising his voice above the tumult that seemed
to be coming out of the heavens.
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