It was therefore from the "Master of the World"; it had been written from the "Terror" and this was the "Terror." Once more I asked myself what could be the connection between this machine and the Great Eyrie! In whispered words, I told Wells of my discovery.

His only comment was, "It is all incomprehensible!" Meanwhile the two men had continued on their way to the woods, and were gathering sticks beneath the trees.

"What if they discover our encampment ?" murmured Wells.
"No danger, if they do not go beyond the nearest trees." "But if they do discover it ?" "They will hurry back to their boat, and we shall be able to cut off their retreat." Toward the creek, where their craft lay, there was no further sound.
I left my hiding-place; I descended the ravine to the quay; I stood on the very spot where the grappling-iron was fast among the rocks.
The "Terror" lay there, quiet at the end of its cable.

Not a light was on board; not a person visible, either on the deck, or on the bank.

Was not this my opportunity?
Should I leap on board and there await the return of the two men?
"Mr.Strock!" It was Wells, who called to me softly from close at hand.
I drew back in all haste and crouched down beside him.