Mining operations were in full blast when the extinct volcano took its revenge upon the human ants gnawing at its vitals and smothered them by a deadly outpouring of carbonic acid gas, the bottled-up poison of the ages.

A horde of pigs, running wild over the island--placed there, no doubt, by Chinese fishers--had met the same fate whilst intent on dreadful orgy.
Then there came a European, who knew how the anhydrate gas, being heavier than the surrounding air, settled like water in that terrible hollow.

He, too, had striven to wrest the treasure from the stone by driving a tunnel into the cliff.

He had partly succeeded and had gone away, perhaps to obtain help, after crudely registering his knowledge on the lid of a tin canister.

This, again, probably fell into the hands of another man, who, curious but unconvinced, caused himself to be set ashore on this desolate spot, with a few inadequate stores.