At last I felt the hard coquina under foot; the cool blue shadow of the
hills enveloped me; I slipped off my pack, dumped it beside a little rill
of crystal water which ran sparkling from the hills, and sat down on a
soft and fragrant carpet of hound's-tongue.
After a while I drank my fill at the rill, bathed head, neck, face and
arms, and, feeling delightfully refreshed, leaned back against the
fern-covered slab of coquina.
"What are you doing?" I demanded of Mink who was unpacking the kit and
disengaging the moving-picture machine.
"Gettin' ready," he replied, fussing busily with the camera.
"You don't expect to see any cave people here, do you?" I asked with a
thrill of reviving excitement.
"Why not?"
"_Here_?"
"Cert'nly. Why the first one I seen was a-drinkin' into this brook."
"Here! Where I'm sitting?" I asked incredulously.
"Yes, sir, right there. It was this way; I was lyin' down, tryin' to
figure the shortes' way to Fort Coquina, an' wishin' I was nearer
Broadway than I was to the Equator, when I heard a voice say, 'Blub-blub,
muck-a-muck!' an' then I seen two cave-ladies come sof'ly stealin'
along.
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