“Not yet,” declared Mr. Pauling. “I want to see that plane. We’ve got to have all the evidence we can get and I’ve an idea some may be there.”
“Hurrah!” cried Tom. “Then it’s not all over yet.”
Meanwhile the boat had been swung and once more was being paddled upstream, but Colcord and the Indians kept it as far as possible from the western bank and hugged the eastern shores. Two hours later they reached the mouth of a wide, dark creek and leaving the big river, paddled rapidly along the black and silent waterway into the very heart of the jungle. Once, as they passed a small island, the Boviander drew Mr. Thome’s attention to a pile of charred and blackened sticks a few yards from the beach and remarked that some one had camped there recently.
“Hmm, I expect that’s where these precious scoundrels stopped on the way out from Maipurisi,” said the explorer. “That looks as if we were right in our conjectures as to the location of the plane. By the way, Colcord, did the Indians recognize that canoe we found? Do they know what tribe it belonged to.”
“They say it Akuria, Chief,” replied the Boviander. “Akurias have plenty big camp topside Maipurisi.”
“Then that settles it,” declared Mr. Thorne. “They landed in Maipurisi and got their coorial from the Akuria village. Speed her up, Colcord, the sooner we get there the sooner you’ll be back to Wismar.”
But there was no chance of making the lake by nightfall and camp was made beside the creek. Strangely enough the Indians appeared to have completely overcome their fears of the Kenaima and worked as willingly and were as light-hearted as ever.
The wounded man was conscious, but appeared utterly oblivious to his surroundings and uttered no word. He ate the food which Sam fed to him, but he was evidently partly paralyzed and moved himself with an effort, not making any attempt to even lift his hands or arms.
“I’m rather glad of that,” said Mr. Pauling in a low tone. “He doesn’t realize he’s manacled and he doesn’t know yet that he’s a prisoner. It makes me feel a brute to keep him locked that way and if he continues as he is, I shall free him. No danger of his making a break as long as he cannot move a finger.”
“Well, I don’t know,” remarked Rawlins who had been watching the man closely. “He’s a slippery duck as you know and I’ve a hunch he knows a heap more than you think and isn’t as helpless as he’d have you believe. I’ve caught him looking at your back in a darned nasty way. He may be nutty, but by glory, a nutty murderer’s as dangerous as a sane one. I’d keep the bracelets on him if I were you.”
“I think Rawlins is right,” agreed Mr. Henderson. “Even if he is helpless and not himself, you can’t tell at what moment he may recover and we’d better be on the safe side.”
“Perhaps you’re both right,” acknowledged Mr. Pauling. “After all, I don’t suppose he’s worthy of much consideration.”
Throughout the night, some one was constantly on watch beside the wounded man, but he made no move, seemed to sleep well and in the morning was in exactly the same condition as before.
Before noon the canoe emerged from the creek onto a small lake and Mr. Thorne announced that they had reached their journey’s end.
“The plane may be anywhere along shore,” he said. “We’ll have to skirt around and hunt for it. But the, lake’s small and we should have little trouble.”
With all eyes searching each indentation and cove in the forest-clad shores, the coorial was paddled around the southern borders of the lake and before they had covered half its circumference, Tom gave a shout of triumph. “There ’tis!” he cried. “In that little bay.”
“Right you are!” affirmed the explorer. “Pretty bad wreck though.”
A minute later the boat was run ashore beside the dismantled plane and all scrambled out to examine it.
“Hurrah!” yelled Frank who had caught sight of the “reds,” camp and the radio instruments. “Now we can send a message to Colonel Maidley.”
“Righto!” agreed Mr. Pauling. “Get it off. No need of cipher now.”
Quickly adjusting the instruments, the boys called the government station at Georgetown and ticked off the message telling of their success and the fact that they had captured the long-sought ringleader of the gang. Then, telling Sam to load the instruments into the boat, they joined the others who were examining and searching the plane. There was little to be found, however. The hull was filled with water, but the nine Indians with the Boviander’s help dragged the plane high and dry and, the water having drained off, Mr. Pauling and his friends removed everything within. Then they searched for possible secret lockers or compartments and were busy at this when Sam approached.
Touching Mr. Pauling on the sleeve, he drew him to one side. “Tha’ man he mek to watch yo’,” he announced in low tones. “Ah was puttin’ tha’ ins’ments abo’d an’ Ah looks up an’ see he liftin’ he haid an’ tryin’ fo’ see what yo’ doin’. An, Chief, he move he han’s O. K. Ah sees he clutch he fis’s an’ Ah knows he was cursin’ under he breath. Ah’s pos’tive he’s jus’ playin’ possum, Chief.”
“Hmm,” mused Mr. Pauling. “Well, you stay there and keep a strict guard over him, Sam. Thank you for telling me.”
“Didn’t I say so?” exclaimed the diver when Mr. Pauling repeated Sam’s information. “He’ll bear watching all right.”
“Well, I think we may, as well leave,” declared Mr. Henderson. “There’s nothing more of interest here--only water-soaked provisions, extra clothes and--by Jove! what’s this?”
As he spoke he had tossed a sodden coat onto the shore and as he did so a dark leather wallet or bill book had dropped from a pocket. Stooping quickly, he picked it up and opened it while the others gathered close about. Within were bank notes of large denominations, a few letters absolutely illegible from the water and a larger folded sheet of tough parchmentlike paper. Carefully, Mr. Henderson unfolded it and glanced at it.
“By Jove!” he exclaimed. “It’s a chart.”
“I’ll say it is!” cried Rawlins. “And of the West Indies! By the great horn spoon, now we’ve got ’em dead to rights!”
“Gosh, perhaps it’s a map of where they hid their loot!” cried Tom excitedly.
“And we can go and get it!” put in Frank.
“I’ll say ’tis and we can!” yelled Rawlins. “It’s all over but the shouting! Come on, let’s beat it for Georgetown with this duck and then hike after their loot! This bush work may be all right, but me for the ocean. I’m itching to get under water again. By glory, treasure hunting’s my middle name!”
Mr. Pauling laughed. “I had an idea that hunches were,” he chuckled. “But come on. Nothing more to keep us here and it’s mainly your hunches, Rawlins, that have carried us through.”
“Not a bit of it,” declared the diver. “You’ll have to thank the radio detectives for that. I’d never have had any hunches if it hadn’t been for them.”
A few minutes later the lonely jungle lake had been left behind. The boat sped down the creek towards the great river, while the Indians’ rousing, homeward bound chantey startled the screeching parrots from the tree tops. A monkey crept curiously from his hiding place and gazed quizzically at the deserted seaplane. Beside a jungle stream an Indian washed the painted eyes and grinning fang-filled mouth from his chest and smiled contentedly and with grim satisfaction as he thought of how well his tribesman had been avenged. The long search which had carried Mr. Pauling and his friends so far and into such strange places was over. Their mission had been accomplished. The radio detectives had done their part, the arch criminal was a prisoner; they had come to the end of the trail and now only the plunging, swirling, thrilling rush down the great river and through the churning rapids lay between them and civilization.
THE END
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OVER TWO SEAS, by RALPH HENRY BARBOUR and H. P. HOLTA splendid story of two boys’ adventures in the South Seas.RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED, by LAURIE YORKE ERSKINESeldom does a book catch so vividly the brave spirit and dramaticdeeds of men in the wilderness.SPOTTED DEER, by ELMER RUSSELL GREGORAnother of this author’s well-known stories of what an Indian’s lifewas really like.THE DEEP SEA HUNTERS, by A. HYATT VERRILLA popular writer for boys and authority on the sea, tells a story ofexciting whale hunting.SCOTT BURTON AND THE TIMBER THIEVES, by EDWARD G. CHENEYAgain this writer combines a lively yarn with a great deal of forestryinformation.NED DEALS, FRESHMAN, by EARL REED SILVERSThe author of the Dick Arnold stories gives the boys a true-to-lifetale of freshman year.
OVER TWO SEAS, by RALPH HENRY BARBOUR and H. P. HOLT
A splendid story of two boys’ adventures in the South Seas.
RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED, by LAURIE YORKE ERSKINE
Seldom does a book catch so vividly the brave spirit and dramatic
deeds of men in the wilderness.
SPOTTED DEER, by ELMER RUSSELL GREGOR
Another of this author’s well-known stories of what an Indian’s life
was really like.
THE DEEP SEA HUNTERS, by A. HYATT VERRILL
A popular writer for boys and authority on the sea, tells a story of
exciting whale hunting.
SCOTT BURTON AND THE TIMBER THIEVES, by EDWARD G. CHENEY
Again this writer combines a lively yarn with a great deal of forestry
information.
NED DEALS, FRESHMAN, by EARL REED SILVERS
The author of the Dick Arnold stories gives the boys a true-to-life
tale of freshman year.
D. APPLETON AND COMPANYNew York--London
By A. HYATT VERRILL
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