CHAPTER THIRTEENNotable discovery at the spouting cliffs—The mysterious green monster explained—We are thrown into unutterable terror by the idea that Jack is drowned—The diamond cave.
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“Come, Jack,” cried Peterkin one morning about three weeks after our return from our long excursion, “let’s be jolly to-day, and do something vigorous. I’m quite tired of hammering and bammering, hewing and screwing, cutting and butting at that little boat of ours, that seems as hard to build as Noah’s ark. Let us go on an excursion to the mountain-top, or have a hunt after the wild ducks, or make a dash at the pigs. I’m quite flat—flat as bad ginger-beer—flat as a pancake; in fact, I want something to rouse me—to toss me up, as it were. Eh! what do you say to it?”
“Well,” answered Jack, throwing
