These two, brother and sister, were not much of a kind with their neighbors. It was plain, dark as they were, they were of some mixed blood, it was shown in the features and hair, which was straight, not even deigning to curl.
Before we had finished our supper there appeared the black neighbor who had so recently lost a child to the voodoo. She seemed to have sensed, in some manner, the purpose of our visit, for she wished Robert and me all kinds of success. This was interpreted to us by Melie Brill, for the woman had only the West Indian-French. She gave me a kind of fetish; it was of some very hard wood, the shape of a bird, bill and tail, and the thickness of a marble. She said that within was a drop of blood of a great wizard, and that it would preserve me from a violent death (and so from the attacks of thezombis) and would insure success in my undertakings. She was soon gone, for it is the practice among all the natives to retire to bed early.
The desire to press our business was upon Robert and myself, and we put a number of questions. We desired to know who they were who inhabited the ruined palace, and who it could have been who fired the shot at us over there.
"I do not know who it is who stay there," Carlos answered, "an' I do not know who fire' the shot."
"Don't you think it's that man, Duran, who makes that his headquarters?" I pressed.
Carlos exchanged a look with his sister before he spoke. "I have suspect for some time, that Duran he keep there, when he not away in hees schooner," he said. "I have think that for two year."
"Hasn't anyone seen him around there?" queried Robert.
"No," returned Carlos. "No one have seen any white man that way, but I suspect Duran he go there."
"Then," I asked, "do you think that's where he has hidden little Marie Cambon?"
"Yes, ver' like'," said Carlos.
Further talk only strengthened our conviction. Next we required of Carlos to guide us to a barren hillside—some spot in range of the harbor, so many miles below. This Carlos professed to be easy of accomplishment.
We went the way we had been in the afternoon. The forest was of an inky blackness; even the stars could seldom be seen from the path. Carlos had no trouble to keep the road. A perfect hush was over everything until the night birds and frogs tuned up to show that the world was not dead.
When we got out into that open space, instinctively we turned our eyes across the valley in the direction of the mysterious palace. And then, as if for our particular benefit, a light flashed over there. It disappeared in the same moment, only to appear again, perhaps at another point near. Again it went out, and though we waited some minutes, it showed no more.
"There's some one there, sure enough," observed Robert.
"Thee people here have see' the light many times," said Carlos. "They theenk it is thezombis."
"I guess Duran is the king Zombi," said Robert.
Carlos laughed. "I theenk you right," he said.
We passed through another patch of forest and climbed to a ledge on the steep hillside. To gather a pile of wood was the work of but five minutes. Then we set it akindle.
Using our jackets for a screen, we began to signal, alternately covering and exposing our fire. Our friends on thePearlmust have kept a good watch, for hardly two minutes had passed, till we made out an answering signal.
"Ray is on the job," said Robert.
Then I spelled out, in short and long flashes, the following words:
Good So Far.
Then came from the sea the terse acknowledgment: O.K.
"That ought to hold Norris," said Robert.
"Yes, till tomorrow night," I returned. "If we don't signal them again tomorrow night, Norris will be piling up here hand over foot."
Carlos had been very quiet, taken up with watching our procedure. That mode of communication was far from unknown to him, but it seemed to him marvelous that white folk should use it. But the wonder of it all was that we could spell out any words we pleased in that way.
"An' if you tell your frien's to come, they weel come?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered, "they will come, in a hurry."
That somehow seemed to please Carlos; and he became pensive. We had put out the fire and were already on our way back through the black forest. When we came again to the open space, we stopped for near half an hour, in the hope that we might again have a sight of the mysterious light over at the old ruin.
While we squatted on the ground, watching, my mind was taken up with the problem of how to discover where little Marie Cambon was hid; and would our little handful of men be sufficient to storm the place? I put the questions to Carlos.
"No—No!" declared Carlos, "the voodoos are too many, and they watch ver' careful, as you have find out."
He referred to our being fired on.
"Wait till tomorrow, then maybe I fin' out sometheeng," he said.
Carlos and his sister made us a pallet in the arbor at the back.
Carlos was gone when Robert and I awoke. Melie told us he had gone off early on our business, and had left word that we were to lay close, till he returned.
Our excursion over to that old ruin of a palace, we were to learn, had been a bit rash. In fact, before the morning was gone, the woman who had given me the fetish came over to report that black men had been about, with inquiries as to the movements of the two white boys.
Carlos turned up at noon. He had been angling among some of the lesser voodoo devotees. There was no news of any white child being held for sacrifice; but there had been passed word of a big voodoo ceremonial to take place either this night or the next. The place was some ten miles back in the hills.
"Some of the voodoos near here have gone from their home'," he said, "an' some more make ready to go."
The news was disturbing. I had no doubt that a big voodoo ceremonial could mean nothing less than that there was to be the offering of the "goat without horns." And here, too, was the big voodoo doings to follow close upon the arrival of Duran with little Marie Cambon.
And what was to do? Call our friends from thePearl? Manifestly, we could not bring so many whites into the region without attracting attention. Duran would be forewarned, and so our purpose defeated. We two must continue to go it alone, trust to luck and our own devices. And there was our new ally, Carlos Brill.
"We must go and see what's going on," I said to Carlos, "and if it's ten miles, we must start soon."
"Oh, if we go before dark," returned Carlos, "and some one see white boys, they—"
"We have a cure for that," I interrupted. "You'll see, we'll fool them."
Robert and I got our packs together, to which we added some small pieces of clothing that I begged of Carlos. Soon we stood all fixed for a long march.
"And now," said I to Carlos, "you and Melie are to come a short way with us to bid us goodbye, for it is to be understood that we are going back the way we came. But then you are to keep watch on the brush; and if you hear the whistle of a bird you're to come over quietly and meet us."
"Yes, yes," nodded Carlos, comprehending.
And so Carlos and Melie walked with us till we were in the midst of the village; and there we shook hands as we parted, and again waved a goodbye, as we moved out of view, numbers of curious blacks looking on.
When we had gone a mile or more seaward, we turned aside; and from a screen of brush, we watched the path for a quarter of an hour, for possible followers.
"Do you think there were any of the voodoo, there?" questioned Robert at last.
"Perhaps not," I answered, "but they'll soon hear of our going."
We picked a suitable spot in the brush, and set up our dressing room. Forth came the kinky, black wigs, and paints given us by Jules Sevier. We worked on one another, turn about. At the end of twenty minutes I set the wig on Robert's head. The result was satisfactory. His color was a dusky brown, all but black. A few minutes drying, and the stain refused to rub off.
"Bob, you are pretty," I told him. "I'll defy Rufe to know you."
"I'll say the same for you, Wayne," said he. "Even Ray wouldn't knowyou."
A jacket and a jumper, and an old hat, got of Carlos, and a twist and turn to Robert's slouch cover, completed our make-up.
Going back, we skirted the village on the west. We came in time into the brush back of the Brill hut.
A whistled bird-call brought Carlos. When he put aside the bush and stepped into view, that moment his face was a picture—his mind contending between the certainty of our identity and doubt of his eyes.
"Ah," he began, "that is ver' suprise'. How you do it?" And then he must have Melie over to the show.
Carlos had soon got himself ready, and we were off for the hills.
For some miles we kept pretty much in cover as we moved toward the mountains. Carlos knew the way through the forest, where we ofttimes slipped on the moist roots of the great trees, and scrambled amongst the lianas that were everywhere. Two hours had gone when we had our first rest in a clump of cabbage palms.
Towering above us, on a mountain, stood an old abandoned fortress. Carlos said its walls were a hundred feet high and with a thickness of twenty feet. Our way lay to the eastward of that old stronghold.
Our progress now had us puffing, for it was up-up-up. We kept as much as possible in the glades. Pigeons were plentiful, and we spied a predatory hawk, at which Robert and I got our little rifles out of their cases. But Carlos put up his hand in caution.
"To shoot is not safe," said he. "Sound go ver' far, an' we do not want anyone know some ones is here."
And then we gave Carlos another turn of surprise. To see a bird fall, and no sound of the gun,—that was beyond reason. He snapped his finger at his ear to make sure he had not lost his hearing.
We showed him the silencers set on the rifles and tried to explain them, but he shook his head; his physics wasn't up to such juggling with sound.
The shadows were over everything when we stopped beside a brook to rest and make a meal. Carlos found wood that burned with little smoke, and we soon had a bird apiece, broiling. Out of a bag Carlos poured farine. With water he made a paste. Then came macadam—codfish stewed with rice. We topped off with bananas, and water from the stream.
The scene was like to have been the last to my eyes on this earth. A high peak towered some seven miles to the east. We could see the blue sea below, many miles to the north, with the golden-yellow horizon. Great tracts of forest were everywhere between, with bits of glades, and palm groves.
While we looked, the coast line darkened, the valleys blackened; the gloom crept up the slopes; swiftly it enveloped the three of us. Then for several minutes the mountain peaks glowed at the tops as if afire, and then they, too, went out, and it was night. The world was changed. The trees seemed like personalities now, come awake like the owls, with the going out of the light. Tree-ferns below us seemed to whisper with their greater neighbors—mysterious gossip. Night birds piped their solemn dirge, insects tweeked; tree toads shrilled in competition with the bellowing bull-frogs; owls hoarsely laughed, and called their "what-what-what."
A strange oppression crept over me and I yearned for the deck of thePearl.
Suddenly Carlos sat erect—listening. I cocked my ear, but there was nothing but the usual night sounds. A minute passed. Then, ever so faintly I discerned the peculiar low rumble. It was something I had heard before. It rose and fell in waves of sound; and wave upon wave it swelled in volume.
"It's the voodoo drum!" I whispered Robert.
"That's over a mile away," he observed, listening.
"Seex mile!—maybe seven mile!" corrected Carlos.
We collected our belongings and were off in the direction of the sound. When we entered the forest, we no longer heard the sound. But after stumbling among the slimy roots, and bumping our noses on the swinging lianas, for half an hour, we came again out in the open, and again we heard the drumming. Carlos ofttimes avoided the jungles by detours. At the end of an hour the rolling of the drum seemed only a few hundred yards away.
"T'ree more mile, I guess," said Carlos.
On and on we stumbled in the dark. The moon was not due till near morning, and so distinct was the drumming that we did not seem any longer to be approaching the place, but were already arrived.
Then at last the sound seemed more distant.
"Now we ver' close," said Carlos.
Something or other was contradictory.
A quarter of a mile or so through the dense forest, and a bright light showed in front.
Now cautiously we moved forward till we came to the edge of an open space. The place appeared to have been partly cleared by hand, for many tree-stumps presented.
We climbed into the low branches of a great tree. The great fire blazed but a hundred yards from our perch. The drummer sat astride his instrument (a cylinder of wood) the fingers of both hands playing on the skin stretched over the one end. The dancers were very many. Here was a repetition of the things I saw in the company of Jules Sevier.
To the right of the fire there was the raised platform, on which stood the snake-box. Back of all was some form of shelter, out from which in time came a figure cloaked in red, and wearing a red kerchief wound about the head. This was thepapaloi(voodoo king). This appearance was the signal for a hush, and a halting of the dance. All grouped round. There were the usual requests for favors and the listening at the box for the answers.
Then came the slaughter of the fowls; and the mixing of the rum.
I had begun to breath more freely on my perch. But then Robert touched me on the arm.
"What's that thing on the ground?" he whispered.
I strained my eyes. The figures of the blacks obscured the view. But at last—what I saw froze my blood.
"We must save it," I said. "It's little Marie Cambon."
As I look back on the experience of the hours following, it is as if I were recalling a horrid dream.
"Robert," I whispered, "the rifles!"
We slipped to the ground, seized our little guns, and got back to our places.
The red-robedpapaloiwas fumbling with a rope that hung from a liana. An attendant was kneeling on the ground holding a cup to the lips of the child.
In another moment the child was swinging in the air by the rope, its head just clearing the ground. I heard it whimper in fright. Thepapaloitook up a knife.
"Give it to him in the hand," I said in Robert's ear.
We leveled our guns together. There was no sound of the explosions. Thepapaloidropped the knife, seized his right hand with his left, and he bent over in pain. I had given my shot to the rope. After my second squeeze of the trigger it hung by a strand; a third lead missile, and the child went gently to the ground.
The voodoo worshipers began to scatter in panic of this strange visitation.
We in the tree slipped to the ground. I thrust my rifle into the hands of Carlos and, intent on making the most of the panic, rushed forward. Thepapaloisaw me coming, and called on the nearest of his followers. But I had up the child before any could interfere, and I sprinted back and thrust it into the arms of Robert.
"Run! both of you!" I cried. And I sought to delay pursuit, hurling piece after piece of dead-wood at the nearest blacks, who were already at the chase, urged on by the woundedpapaloi.
I meant to run for it, and elude the voodoos in the thick forest, so soon as the laden Robert and Carlos should have a good start. My missiles danced about the shins of the foremost blacks, and they held up.
I was backing toward the edge of the jungle, and in the way of readily making my escape; but some wily black with a club must have taken a thought worth two of that, and got on the wrong side of me. I was just in the thought it was about time to make my break, when I got a crack on the back of my head that put me to sleep.
I do not know how long I was unconscious, but when I opened my eyes I could see the bright stars, and I made out two black heads of negroes, who bore me in some kind of a litter to which I was bound, wrists and ankles.
I could hear the voices of others ahead, so I knew that there were more in the party. My head felt big, and a dizziness, and a sore spot, reminded me of the whack I'd got. We soon came to a stand, and there sounded a call. A turn of my litter gave me a view of a structure towering near by. Something in the contour was familiar. It was the great palace we were now come to.
I have to make mention of a matter of importance. It was not little Marie Cambon we had saved from the voodoos. This I saw when I grabbed the little one from the ground. It was a young mulatto. So little Marie, then, must still be immured in this old ruin. Perhaps, after all, I should find a way to save her and myself. Some unreasoning blind faith seemed to hold me up, in spite of my desperate situation.
My litter was soon in motion again, and we passed through some kind of portal. A lantern illumined the way, and we went up a broad stairway. In the dim light I made out richly carved pillars; mahogany shone red in the wood work, if I were not dreaming, and marble figures looked down on me.
Again we came to a stand, this time in a great hall, and my litter was let down to the floor. One came out and stood over me. It was the voodoo great-priest—thepapaloi—as I could see by the red bandanna he still wore on his head, and his hand bound in a blood-stained rag. I noted this black's features were as regular as a white man's; and now there was a sneering smile on them.
"So you think you very wise and can defy the Great Power," he said. He turned and spoke something to an attendant, who stooped and tore open my shirt, while another held the lantern. It was to lay bare my skin where it was unstained and still white.
"Humph!" grunted thepapaloi, "so I thought. It is one of the white boys."
"You came from Jamaica, in the schooner," he addressed me. "You make plenty good blood for the drink—and plenty good meat for the feast." This last with a malicious grin.
I could perceive that here was one, this voodoo priest, who was in the confidence of Duran. It was doubtless to him Duran delivered the children procured for sacrifice. And so here must be the source of the vast wealth of that white fiend of tinged blood. Something spurred me to defiant speech.
"You can tell Duran, alias Mordaunt," I began, "that I have had my fortune read, and that I would not exchange my fate for his at any price."
He stared for a moment speechless. Then he said something to the two litter bearers, who loosed the ropes that held me to the litter; then they stood me on my feet, and one holding either arm, led me through a doorway, thepapaloifollowing, attended by another black with the lantern. It was many steps we went down the bare passage; a turn, and we stood before a door. A heavy bolt was drawn, and the door opened.
"Very soon you die," spoke thepapaloi, as I was thrust in.
I heard the bolt slide into place with a click, and I stood in darkness. I felt in my pocket for my flash lamp. It was gone. I put my feet forward cautiously, step by step, my hand on the wall; and moved around my dungeon till I came to the door again. I became used to the dark, got my bearings, and paced the damp floor, side to side and end to end. It was four paces one way, eight the other. As I moved about, suddenly I caught in my eye a few stars peeking in on me. There was a slit in the wall high up. By reason of the thickness of the wall the view out was had only when standing directly in line with that narrow porthole.
The cell was barren, there was not even a box for a seat. A half hour was hardly gone, when I heard the click of the bolt again. This time it was food that was pushed in, on a wooden tray. Recalling those stories of the poisoned food given by the voodoos to their victims, I denied myself, even of the drink. In that hot, airless hole, what would I have not given for a draught of pure water!
I got the food off the tray and used it to sit on.
When I thrust the little one into Robert's arms, he and Carlos had run for it, as I directed. They got far enough into the jungle for safe hiding, and then Carlos went back to lead me there. I had already got that whack on the head, and the thing Carlos saw was the crew of blacks securing their prisoner.
It was then Robert decided to call our friends from thePearl. So the two, carrying the little rescued mulatto, turn about, hurried back toward home. When they came to the place where we had cooked our meal, Robert made his signal fire. He made it big, for it was fifteen miles to thePearl'sanchorage. The two plaited a big screen of leaves and grasses. Again and again he spelled out in flashes the following:
Come ask for Brill.
Come ask for Brill.
To make out any answering signal at so great a distance, was a thing not to be expected, where a mere lantern was to be used. But he knew they would be on the lookout, and could not miss so great a flare.
Daylight had come before the two arrived at the Brill hut. Melie took the little one in charge; and it may here be said that the yellow tot was finally restored to the rejoicing parents.
When Wayne and Robert had got out of sight, as they started on the trail of that Duran fellow, right away Grant Norris began to fuss.
"I don't think those boys ought to be allowed to go after those cannibals alone," he said. "Suppose those black cusses get wind of them and put up a fight. And they haven't anything but those dinky little rifles!"
"Meaning," I told him, "that they ought to have an old campaigner to protect them, and that old campaigner's name is Grant Norris."
"Oh, go 'long! you red-headed wag, you," he shot back at me.
"'Fess up now," I said. "You're just itching for excitement. But never fear, Wayne will send for you before the fighting begins—he knows you. In the meantime, you know Wayne and Robert well enough; there won't anyone get much the best of them."
When we had rowed back to thePearl, things were got ready for a move to a new anchorage—nearer to the place where we had landed Wayne and Robert. Captain Marat said we must avoid having the lights of the town between us and any signal from Wayne.
Grant Norris was watching the hills back inland while the sun was still holding its fire on the tops of the mountains.
"Say," I asked him, "you don't expect to see fire signals in broad daylight, do you?"
"Daylight!" he sniffed—"It'll be night before you can turn round twice."
And sure enough, while we were talking the sun was off the peaks, and the lower hills were black enough to show a fire.
I hadn't any more than got ready the big lantern with the strong reflector, than Wayne's signal began to flash, eight or ten miles back in the hills. I answered. And then came the message: "Good so far."
"I guess they find out sometheeng," said Captain Marat.
"It's good to know they're already making progress," observed Julian.
"Next," said Norris, "they'll be signalling—'Come on, the trail is hot.'" And he stayed on deck till long after midnight.
The next day dragged for all of us, waiting for night. Nothing was right. Even Rufe's noon meal was no success.
"Say, you-all is jest de cantankerest bunch!" said Rufe. "Dem 'are biscuits is jest de kin' you-all been a braggin' on; an' dat fish, an' de puddin'—W'at's wrong wid dem, ah likes to know?"
But no one had a word on that.
And when the supper went the same way, Rufe put his foot down, said he wouldn't cook another meal till we got the voodoo out of our systems.
"Dat w'at it is, hit's de voodoo w'at's got into you-all's stummicks," he declared. "Dey ain't no use o' my cookin' no more till you is busted wid it."
That hot lazy sun finally dipped down west, and from then on, every candle or firefly on shore had us on the jump. Grant Norris was the worst of the bunch. At ten o'clock he broke loose.
"Those young skunks!" he said. "Won't I give them a piece of my mind! They might give us a word. No sense in keeping mum like this."
At midnight all but Norris gave it up and turned in. He said he wouldn't trust the watch, and anyway there wasn't any sleep in him.
I hadn't any more than got two winks of my first beauty sleep, than something had me by the scruff, and bounced me out of my bunk onto the floor. It was worse than the nightmare.
I was kneading the cobwebs of fairyland out of my eyes, and I heard Norris saying:
"Pile up on deck you sleepy-head! Wayne's talking to you."
I "piled up" on deck; and there, way back in the hills, ever so far away, I saw the flashing of a beacon light. A long flash, a short one, another long, a short. That's C. Three long ones—O. And so on. "Come ask for Brill. Come ask for Brill," the message went.
Norris brought the lamp with the strong reflector, and I flashed back an answer. But they evidently didn't see our smaller light, for they continued with their—"Come, ask for Brill. Come ask for Brill."
Now I can't explain just how, but I knew from the way the flashes were given that it wasn't Wayne, but Robert, who was doing the signalling. Then they were not together up there, for Wayne always did that job.
I told Norris the message, and he began to poke everybody else up. He went banging at Rufe, too, and there was considerable excitement all round.
"Oh, yes, sah, yes, sah, Mistah Norris," said Rufe "dat coffee 'll be a'bilin' in jes' a minute. Glory be to goodness! dis heah voodoo carryin's on is wus dan gittin' religion at a shoutin' Methodis' camp meetin'."
I watched the flashes up in the hills till finally they quit; but there was never a word but just those four: "Come, ask for Brill."
Our packs were already made up; it remained only for Rufe to put the finishing touches to the grub we were going to take. Captain Marat and Grant Norris had their high powered rifles, the hand ax was more than I needed, for my legs were nimble. Julian got out his handsome shot-gun, and a dozen shells Rufe had loaded with buck-shot.
"Jes' two of dem 'ar buck-shot shells in my ol' gun and dat's all I needs," Rufe said. "Dey ain't nobody guine to come nigh dis heah schooner 'less'n I says de word."
We pulled the small boat high on' the beach, near the place where we had parted with Wayne and Robert, and without preliminaries we started off by the road. It was fearfully dark, but the trail was the path of least resistance, so we couldn't get lost. Two hours after the start daylight busted through the trees. In another hour or so we butted into a village. And the first pickaninny we met told us the way to "Brills," on the upper side of the village.
A black man, and a black woman, and a black boy, were at the door of the Brill mansion.
"We're looking for two white boys," announced Norris.
"Dey ain't no white boys 'round heah," said that black boy. And say! that voice had a familiar twang to it.
"Say, Robert," I spit out, "your face goes all right, but you'll have to smear the black better on that voice of yours, if you want to fool this kid."
We were all inside now; and it didn't take Robert long to tell his story.
"And so you are sure they've got Wayne in that old ruin?" said Norris, addressing this black man, Carlos Brill.
"Yes, I think ver' sure," said the man. "I see they go that way with him."
"Well, Captain Marat," began Norris, "I say storm the place at once."
"Yes," assented Captain Marat, "we have to do something."
"But we'll have to go slow," Robert said. "That place must be lousy with those cannibals; and no one knows how many guns they'll have."
Well, Norris was willing to go slow, if he could only go soon. And we were not long getting started.
That black fellow, Carlos Brill, led the way, and that black fellow, Robert Murtry, with him. Julian and I were rear guard. And they gave me Wayne's rifle to carry.
It wasn't long till we got out of the woods into an open spot; and then they showed us what they'd figured out was Wayne's prison. It was way over on the other side of a ravine; and say! it was the queerest looking, half tumble-down old palace!
We went down into the ravine; and on the other side Carlos Brill took us out of the path—afraid of an ambush, or something—and we began to slip and stumble among the roots, and brush, and snaky-looking lianas that hung between the trees. Why the place wasn't full of monkeys I don't know. There wasn't any use of anyone telling us to go slow, this wasn't any fast track.
When we stopped, to let our breaths catch up with us, Carlos told us we hadn't much farther to go. But he wouldn't be able to get us nearer to the palace under shelter of the forest than about four hundred yards.
"Don't let that worry you any," said Norris. "Captain Marat or I, either one, won't ask anything better, if we can draw them out."
"Yes," agreed Captain Marat, "four honderd yard' do ver' well."
I'd seen them both shoot, and I agreed with that. And they had belts and pockets full of ammunition.
Well, we finally got to the place, with that big old half ruin on the opposite side of the clearing. Norris picked a tree, with big branches near the ground. Captain Marat took up a position seventy-five or a hundred yards to the left. Those two big-gun men and Carlos had decided on their plan of campaign, and the rest of us got behind a good screen and awaited developments.
Jean Marat banged away first, sending a ball through an opening in the second story of that old palace. All waited to see some attention paid to it over there. We calculated it ought to start some curiosity at least—that is, if there really was anybody about the shebang. I began to have my doubts; it looked dead as a tomb.
But we didn't have to wait more than about a minute. I saw a black scamp scamper across the open space with a gun in his hand, going from the woods we were in right for that palace. I pointed him out to Norris, who let fly at him with a bullet just as he disappeared round a bush.
Robert said it was most likely a sentry, stationed on that path.
Then Captain Marat's rifle went off again. Robert ran over, and brought back news that Marat had toppled over a black, who was running for the palace from that side.
The next shot fired came from the palace. I saw the smoke up at the second story. Norris banged away—said he saw a black head peep round a piece of stone wall. Two more shots came from the palace, they tore loose a twig or two over our heads.
Then Captain Marat shot twice. It was a minute before the palace artillery opened up again. They must have fired ten shots—they came faster than I could count them. Grant Norris was happy. He up with his rifle, and at his shot I heard a yell over at the palace. Jean Marat got another one, too, Robert came to tell me.
And now Robert got hold of me and dragged me along with him round about through the woods. It was some time before I could hold him up long enough to get it out of him what it was all about. He meant we two should have a little of the kind of sport Marat and Norris were revelling in. There was a patch of trees off to the right—south of the old palace; and it was there we finally won round to. We climbed high in a tree, and got us to where we had a fine view behind that broken wall the blacks were using for a breastworks. There wasn't less than a dozen of those voodoo cannibals there, in plain view of our perch, and we weren't three hundred yards from them.
"Now let's give it to them fast," said Robert, and he began to work the slide handle of his little rifle. I followed suit with Wayne's gun.
There wasn't a sound of our firing, of course, on account of the silencers. So the stings those fellows got on the flank began to puzzle them. There was one black who gave me a good target. I wasn't much of a shot, but after a few pulls on my trigger, I saw that fellow put his hand in a place, and in a way that convinced me that he would be sitting on a sore spot for a day or two anyway. Those blacks quit firing and got to discussing some question or other, and some of them slunk away.
And just about then I heard something familiar, back in the forest. It was the call of theWhip-poor-will; and I didn't need anyone to tell me what bird it came from; there was only one particular bird who could be whistling that call in broad daylight.
"There's Wayne!" said Robert. And he almost knocked me off my limb, with his hurry to get to the ground.
And then as we hurried over to the others, we answered Wayne's call; and in just a little, he was among us.
And here's where Wayne takes up the story again.
How long I had been dozing the last spell, I don't know, but when my eyes opened, daylight was showing through that little slit high up in the cell wall. It wasn't much light that came in, but it was enough to show me some kind of decorative affair on the otherwise plain walls of the dungeon.
I moved close to the thing; and I set the tray against the wall, below it, and got me up closer. Then I was able to make out it was a kind of shrine, built into the wall. There was a crucifix back in the niche, and kneeling figures at the foot.
Then suddenly I felt a queer sense of creeping in my flesh—a thought, like a revelation, had flashed in my mind. Here was just the sort of thing I had heard that taciturn black fellow, Amos, tell about; a dungeon, in the wall a shrine—Christ on the cross, and figures at the foot! Could this be the very cell and shrine Amos had told of? It seemed too good to be true. And yet there was eloquent argument. For wasn't there that mysterious interest of Amos in Mordaunt, alias Duran, at Kingston? And was it not reasonably certain that Amos had lost his life at the hands of this Duran? And now had we not traced Duran to this very place? Trembling with eagerness and suspense, I sought, and got my hand on, the figure of the Virgin. I shook it gently, ashamed to so manhandle a holy thing. It held fast. I put on greater and greater violence; and finally I felt it give a little. Compunction was all gone now; and at last I lifted out the figure, which was prolonged at the bottom to make a round peg.
My heart thumped with excitement. I pulled on the frame of the shrine. A few tugs and the whole thing swung in like a door, on hinges. And so there was uncovered a black hole behind.
I put my hands on the edge and tried to pull myself up into that hole. It was no go—I hadn't the strength. I tried again and again, but I weakened at every effort.
I went over and looked at that food and drink, tempted to have a few mouthfuls—for strength's sake. But I finally decided against the risk. Instead, I filled my lungs with air—such as there was—and rested.
After five minutes I got my toes on the tray again. And this time I made it. I got through. And I pulled the shrine door shut after me. There was an interstice through which I got my hand, and put that figure-peg in place again. I meant they should not discover the manner of my escape from the cell.
That place I was now in was entirely dark, and the air damp and oppressive. I could touch both walls at once, so narrow was the place.
And now which way to turn? How I wished for my flashlight! I tried it to the left, moving cautiously. I had taken about twenty short paces, when I noted little beams of light coming through the wall. I got my eye to a chink, and made it out that here was another shrine, set in the wall of some room of the palace.
I got a view, too, of some part of that room. A cluster of burning candles stood on a table, which piece of furniture, I could see, was of richly-carved mahogany. And there lay my flashlight in plain view.
A figure moved into the field of my eye. It was thepapaloi; his wounded hand was still in a bandage. He bustled about, though I could make nothing of his occupation; till finally he set a pomade jar on the table, turned in his clothing at the neck, and began to smear his face. Here was a fastidious black. The process was long and leisurely, and there came a period of wait—to let the oil that shone on his dark skin soak in. And then he took up a cloth and began to wipe.
It was then I got a start, for his face came out from under the rag—white! And it was then I recognized Duran, alias Mordaunt! This voodoopapaloi, who put the knife to little innocents, was no other than Duran himself. I was now prepared to believe the stories of the horrifying cruelty, and strange fanaticism—or whatever it may be called—of some of those of mixed blood.
A black attendant came into the room with a vessel of water. Duran washed, while the black busied himself with laying out clothing, as I could see when he moved into my view. These Duran began to don, making himself into more the appearance of a gentleman, a role he had learned to assume. Only now he allowed his features to relax into an expression that was more that of a hardened criminal than of a gentleman. There was little talk, and that was in French; no word of it that I could understand.
I lingered in the hope that the room should be vacated, and I might try if his Calvary—through whose filigree chinks I peeked—should not prove to be another door, and so be the means of my recovering my electric flashlight. It was a thing I wanted, to help me find my way out of that black hole.
The black man went out, finally, soon followed by Duran. I heard the door close. Now was my time! I got my hand through a crevice. I tried one kneeling figure, and then another. It came out, and I swung the gate in. In another moment I was on the floor, though I turned over a chair in the jump. I closed the portal and looked about.
The furnishings were rich, the floors marble. A single window there was, tightly shuttered; a bed, with an end to the wall.
I thrust my flashlight into a pocket of my trousers; I still held the stone peg in my hand.
The candles had been left burning; likely Duran would be back; so it was time I was scrambling out. But my presence was already known, for the door opened, and in sprang a black.
There was no time for anything but defense. The black reached for me. I dodged, and made toward the bed. As I landed on the covers, he had me by the ankle. And then I came down on his woolly pate with my stone peg, using all my force.
The black doubled up on the floor without a sound. I rushed a chair under the secret portal, and in two moments was back in the dark passage, the door with its peg back in place.
I put my eyes to the chink. In a minute Duran appeared. That he was all in a knot—dumfounded at the thing he saw, was plain.
I was curious to know whether I had committed manslaughter, but when Duran opened the door and began to call out to others, I thought it wise to move. I used my light, and went back the way I had come. There showed nothing but bare stone walls; the passage, between four and five feet wide, and not twice so high.
Presently it descended, in steps; at the bottom my light showed a door. I lifted a long, rusty latch, and with repeated strong pulls, swung it open. There was a hole through, ostensibly to permit of reaching the latch with a stick from the outside.
The welcome outdoor air came through a heavy growth of vines. It was perhaps fifteen feet to the ground. I swung the door to after me, and scrambled down by the vines.
Ah, how good that bit of turf felt under my feet! Trees were all about, though just here they were new growth—small. A stream trickled over stones close by. I went down to its edge and drank my fill, and I took the brook for my guide, upward, toward the hills.
I came to a place where I must walk in the water to go round a low cliff. And then I came upon a path, new used, and seeming to come from that great building whose upper walls I could still see peeping through the tree-tops.
I heard voices, and jumped behind a bushy screen. There appeared on the path a half dozen black men, and an old black crone. Two pairs of the men were burdened with litters, and two went before as an advance guard—they were armed with guns. On the litter were bundles, some in gunny sacks, and some tied in blankets. I was sure I saw some movement in the bundle on one litter, as of some living thing there. My heart thumped with the thought that here were some little ones being transported for voodoo slaughter. And my reason told me that little Marie Cambon was of the number.
I followed for some miles, for the most part out of view—but now and then getting glimpses of the blacks ahead. The trail—much used I could see it was—held pretty much to the shores of the stream; at times the way was through the brush, avoiding a bend or some bad going; at times the path lay in the water itself. Grand tree ferns and a great variety of tropic growth made it a wonderfully romantic and beautiful woods path. And yet here it was given over to hell's own purposes.
I went far enough to convince my mind that the blacks were making direct to that castle fortress on the mountain, whose high walls now and anon came into view. I turned short about then, and hurried back. I would go to the Brill cottage for news of Robert and Carlos, and send for my friends on thePearl.
I was still a mile or more from the old ruin where I'd been a prisoner, when I heard shots. I soon cut away from the path, and stumbled through the jungle, in the direction of the sounds of battle. My mind was full with conjecture.
"It must be Jean Marat, and Norris, and the others from thePearl," I said to myself at last. Robert must have signalled them last night, and now they were attacking.
When the sounds of firing told me I was near, I whistled a call. And then I came up with them. And there were Robert, and Ray with my rifle; and Ray had a story of his performance with the gun. "I peppered him at the south end, going northwards," he said, "and it's a hot tack he'll be sitting on every time he 'plunks' down on a stool."
For some reason those at the palace had ceased their firing. Maybe the unscathed blacks had taken their lesson of the things those two crack shots, Marat and Norris, had proven themselves able to do to every black head that showed round the edge of portal or stone wall. And perhaps those mysterious—silent—little missiles sent by Robert and Ray had also had a thing to do with it. Anyway, the old palace opposite, had become as silent as from its appearance it ought to be.
"Now, how did you get away?" demanded Robert.
"Yes, you might have stayed a while longer and let us have the credit of rescuing you," exclaimed Ray.
And so I told my tale. And next I had a word for Carlos. I'd been spoiling for this word from the moment of our reunion.
"Who was Amos?" I asked bluntly.
Carlos jerked himself erect at the word. He was caught with surprise.
"Amos, he is my brother," he said, still staring his wonder.
"I don't know why I never thought to mention it to you," I said, "but Amos was with us from New Orleans to Kingston, Jamaica."
And we gave Carlos the whole story. And when we came to the mention of Amos' death, the poor fellow went all of a heap for a minute. Then he got a grip of himself, and his frame became rigid; and I could see his lips move as he made some silent vow.
Carlos told us how he had been awaiting the coming of his brother, whom he had sent forth to seek help for the recovery of a hidden gold mine, belonging, by right of inheritance, to the Brills.
"My father, he discover that mine somewhar in the hills," said Carlos. "It was when Amos, and I, and Melie ver' small. He tell us how sometime he goin' to show us the place—when we little bigger. He go 'way five—six day, and come back with plenty gold, some piece big as my thumb—Melie got one home. Father go to the city, and bring home plenty fine things, and much to eat. And one day that man Duran come with him. They talk big things—we little, and don't understand. Then they go 'way together in the hills. We wait six day—seven day—more, two week. No use, our father he never come back.
"That Duran then, we find out, have plenty money: he buy fine schooner, wear fine clothes—diamon's, go to France, study, and everything fine he want to have. We—Amos, I, Melie—we say, 'Duran, he kill our father—he steal the gold mine.' And we know what we have to do. We try to watch Duran. We see him with the voodoo. He asang mele.[1]We see him go to the old king's palace. He send warning we to keep away. One time Amos is shot in leg. But we can never find the mine. Duran never go from the palace to the mine. We think he go in the schooner when he go to the mine, so no one can follow. And then, at las' we decide we mus' have help, if we can find some that are honest. And so Amos he go."
And thus we of thePearlcame to know that Amos, even despite his untimely death, had led us—or at the least he had set us on the way—to the very place he had meant to pilot us.
Norris suggested that perhaps the mine was worked out long ago. But Carlos declared that a friend he had in the city had seen Duran convert a fresh supply of gold dust and nuggets but a few months ago.
"Well," said Norris, "then we're going to have a try for that gold mine, after all."
"Yes," said Jean Marat, "when we have find little Marie Cambon."
I had renewed my courage with food my friends carried; and now, with Carlos' help I conducted our party to the trail, going to the fortress on the mountain. Carlos had been many times on that trail, he said, and he led us over a number of short-cuts. Robert and I were still in our black paint; and Ray abused us shamefully—in play—at every turn, for presuming to hobnob so freely with our superiors.
Half the hot afternoon was gone when we had climbed to the end of that path. It was at the bottom of a hundred-foot wall. Carlos pointed to where there was to be found a door, sheltered from view by the brush. We did not venture too close, for it was certain the door would be fast, and we planned to try for an entry by a ruse. Carlos knew a call that was much used by these blacks of Duran's, and he was confident he could make it serve our purpose.
So we laid our trap. Norris and Robert crawled cautiously into the bushes up to either side of the door, Robert armed with a strong cord, that Carlos plaited of long grasses. Carlos then sent out his call. It sounded much like the screech of a sea-gull. He repeated it three or four times, and waited. Then again he gave the call. In a minute, now, came an answer from high overhead. Another little space, and that door opened, and a black came forth.
Norris pounced on him, bearing him down, one hand on the black's mouth, to prevent an outcry. Robert soon had the bonds on the fellow's wrists, and the others of us moved forward.
Captain Marat spoke to the black in French. He told him he must answer us truthfully, on pain of torture; and he had Norris give him a twist of the arm for a sample. And so we got it out of the man that Duran was not in the fortress, and that there were three children there, brought this day; one, he admitted was white. There were seven men there, two of them armed.
Then, with a gun at his back, the black was ordered to lead the way.
It was a long climb, by stone steps; then came a long corridor. At last a room, where was a fire and cookery, utilizing a break in the wall, looking on the court, for a fireplace.
The six men, and the voodoo woman, at the cooking, were taken unawares, their two rifles confiscated, and they were lined up against the wall; Norris patting his rifle and winking, to accentuate what Marat was telling them in the French.
The three children sat on the floor in a corner: two of them blacks, about three years of age each—and little Marie Cambon, looking like her portrait, but now big-eyed and dazed with trying to realize the meaning of this new appearance. I divined the prelude to a storm; so I hurried over and took her up in my arms. "Little Marie!" I said. And then burst forth that flood. You have seen children cry. It continued till she was exhausted; and then she sobbed long in her sleep. She wouldn't let me put her down; even while she slept, my attempt to relinquish her little body invariably awakened her. For two hours I must carry her, and we were far from that place before she would let me rest my arms.
The two little pickaninnies were taken on, and we went off the way we had come, leaving the seven blacks to reflect on the words of a lecture Jean Marat delivered them on the evil of their ways, and to consider how they were to account to their lord and master—andpapaloi—Duran, for the loss of the three "goats without horns."
Night sprung upon us before we reached the Brill cottage. And it was truly a happy throng that gathered there. Melie bustled about preparing a supper, between whiles crooning over the three little ones—white and black.
"Shall I see my papa and mamma?" said little Marie Cambon.
"Yes," Melie assured her. "You shall go to your papa and mamma," and they both giggled, girl-like, for happiness.
And the little pickaninnies echoed: "Maman, maman," and Melie delighted them with creole baby-talk; and they grinned and clapped their hands.
Robert and I had soon got the stain off our skins. Little Marie watched the process, and said I looked "more beautiful" without the black. At supper there was held a council of war. Before we could move about the business of the gold mine, there were two things left to be done: we must take the Brills under our protection, for by enlisting their active help we had got them under the anathema of the voodoos; and we must see to the return of little Marie to the arms of her waiting parents. Some of the effects of the Brills we got over to the care of a friendly neighbor. Norris and Robert were to remain to assist Carlos and Melie with their little wagon to the city. They were also to look out for the two little blacks.
The rest of our party moved seaward over the old trail by which we had come. Little Marie clung to myself; she would have none but the one who had been the first to take her from her captors.
The morning was not yet gone, when we got to the coast. We drew our boat to the water; and then it was—back to thePearlagain.
Marat and Julian were at the oars, and our boat swung round and pointed toward thePearl. It was then we perceived a boat coming toward us. And we made it out to be the other small boat from thePearl. Two of the black sailors manned the oars, and a stranger sat in the stern sheets.
The two boats rapidly approached; in another pair of minutes I had identified that new figure.
"It's Monsieur Cambon!" I cried. Little Marie was beside me; I turned her face to the approaching boat.
"See! It's papa!" I told her.
Her little face lighted up, and she seemed to expand with happiness, as she looked.
"Papa! Papa!" she murmured.
The two boats came together, by oars they were held fast; and I passed the child over to the silent, eager father.
"Oh! My little daughter!—Marie!" he said, then. "You are safe! Your mamma will be so happy! So happy!"
Madame Cambon was on thePearl, Monsieur told us. She was worn to a shadow with anguish. The good news must trickle to her gently. It was for that he came to meet us.
A strange thing it seems, that emotions of happiness can be as deadly as the tragic. Monsieur Cambon's boat lingered behind, as ours moved to thePearl. Madame Cambon lay on a hammock set up under the awning. Dark patches were under her eyes. She tried to smile a greeting.
"I am happy that you are here," I began.
I did not rightly hear her murmured reply; and I had no mind for it anyway, whatever it was, for my mind was in a rack—how to proceed?
"You must not give in that way," I protested.
"How can I help?" she said.
"You help us all if you have courage," I said.
"Oh, I have tried," she said. "If only I could have hope."
"If you have courage I promise you hope," I ventured.
She sat up. "Hope! Only give me hope!"
"Yes," I said, with all the assurance of which I was capable, "I give you hope—you have it."
"Oh, I like the way you say that!" And her face took on a new look.
"I even promise you she shall come back to you again," I ventured once more.
Her bosom heaved for some moments; then she got control.
"Please do not give me false hopes," she begged.
"No," I asserted, now more sure of her, "I even promise you shall see her soon."
She looked me in the eyes, to read if I told the whole truth.
"You have come with news!" she cried. "I understand you now. Tell me all—I can bear it—I see; you have prepared me. She is coming. Where is my husband?"
"Yes," I said. "She is coming. She is with her father; they will soon be here."
Her eyes swept the water, but the boat was hidden under the rail. I went to the side, reached down and took up little Marie from her father's hands, and brought her to her mother.
No need to describe that scene. Madame Cambon's now was a quiet, restrained emotion. She shed some tears, but there was no violence. And at last she came to talk of gratitude, and we had to cut off her speech. That task fell to Ray.
"You don't know what you're doing," he said. "You're making us ashamed of all the fun we had. And I want to tell you of the bee I turned loose in one voodoo fellow's bonnet."
And in a minute Ray had her laughing.
Monsieur Cambon told us how Madame's condition made it imperative that they follow us in our search for Marie. He said, "We must go, she insisted, if only to be near."
The Cambons were destined to leave us on the following day, and to carry Melie Brill with them on the steamer to Jamaica. But in the meantime we awaited the coming of that portion of our party left behind up in the foothills.
It was long after dark had come that we heard the call of Robert on the beach opposite. Ray and I hurried the boat to shore, and took on Robert, Norris, Carlos and Melie Brill. And they had a story to tell.
"You're a long time getting here," I observed, as Norris took up the oars.
"Yes," returned Norris. "And we wouldn't be getting here at all, if those voodoo skunks had had their own way about it."
"Did they give you trouble?" I asked.
"Oh, I guess—yes, some," he said. "But we gave them trouble, eh, Robert?"
Robert acquiesced.
"I reckon they'll some day be telling their voodoo grand-children how a bunch of white devils came to their island and raised particular—"
"Raised particular 'hotel,'" assisted Ray, who saw that Norris was about to stumble on an impolite word.
We climbed aboard thePearland Rufe fed the four while they gave us their tale.
"We got nearly everything loaded onto Carlos' little wagon, and Carlos was going to hitch up the donkey, when those voodoo skunks showed up," said Norris. "They didn't knock on the door or ring the bell, but stood off like the pack of hyenas they are.
"Carlos talked to them. They said we must give up the kids, or they would burn the shack with us in it. I told Carlos: 'Tell them that if they don't clear out right quick some of them will soon be burning in—in—'"
"Where Beelzebub tends the ovens and the climate is equable," offered Ray, politely.
"I don't know how many voodoo there was in the crowd," continued Norris. "The people from the village came round, too,—I suppose, to see the fun. There were some guns; and those fellows began to get their heads together. I got mad, finally, to see those skunks so cheeky; and I forgot English wasn't their talk, and called out: 'Any of you who don't want to get into the battle better crawl into your holes!'
"There must have been some that got that, for pretty quick there was a scattering, and only about a dozen or so stayed on. They were the ones who'd come on business, I guess.
"Pretty soon Melie said there were some of the blacks sneaking up toward the wagon, out by the barn. I got to the back door with my rifle, and I blowed the high peaked hat off the nearest skunk—sorry now I didn't blow his head off. Those fellows didn't stop to pick up that hat.
"Those cusses in front had begun to move up with their guns ready. But Robert had his little twenty-two ready too; and they hadn't come far when he let the leader have one in his off hind foot. He limped off howling, and the others suddenly recollected other appointments.
"'Now we've got to make our start,' I said."
"While the audience is wondering what'll be the next scene," prompted Ray.
"Something like that," admitted Norris. "So we bundled the black babies up, while Carlos hitched up the mule. And when we started for the barn, I saw Melie sprinkling some seeds about the ground and back stoop. 'What are you planting grass for?' I said. 'You're not coming back.'
"She laughed and said that the voodoo men were barefoot, and the seeds would give them sores that would disable them for weeks. Well, we got started. Carlos drove; Robert went ahead with his rifle, and I followed behind with mine.
"We poked along for about three miles, and no sign of those voodoo cusses. Then Carlos pulled up and waited for me to catch up.
"'Well,' I said, 'do you reckon they've given up the fight?' And Carlos said there was a little steep hill about a mile ahead, that the road passed round; and he was some afraid the enemy might be laying for us there, and would roll rocks down on us. He said we might avoid the place by a roundabout way through the woods, but it would be hard going, and we'd lose time.
"I called Robert and told him our troubles. 'Wait ten minutes,' he said, 'and then drive up to a couple of hundred yards of the place, and stop till I whistle for you to come on.' And then he trotted on ahead. In ten minutes we started. Carlos pulled the donkey to a stop at the right place, and we waited.
"In a minute we heard a howl—then another howl—then a howl every second, for about six howls. Then we heard a stampede in the woods, off to our right.—Better let Bob tell what happened."
"I hurried on ahead till I saw the hill," said Robert. "It was a ridge that ended right at the road, and all covered with the woods. I turned off and climbed to the top of the ridge pretty well back; and I moved toward the road cautiously. Then I saw those black fellows—I guess there was near a dozen—right at the end of the ridge. They had a screen of brush toward the road, but on my side it was all open. They had some big bowlders all ready to push over. I slipped back a little and climbed into a tree. I got a good seat in a crotch, from where the view was good.
"Pretty soon I heard the wagon. And those fellows heard it too. They peeked through the brush, and—"
"And they licked their chops," struck in Ray.
"I had my magazine full," continued Robert, "and I had my peep-sight set. One black's pants were tight with stooping to look—and I gave him the first little bullet."
"Right on the 'spank,'" said Ray.
"Yes," continued Robert, "I got the idea from Ray. Well that one let out a howl. And then I peppered the next one in the leg, and he howled. Another one got it in the shoulder. They were mightily puzzled—not hearing anything—so they couldn't use their guns. They didn't wait to look round very long, but hiked out, running by right under my tree. Before they got away I hit six or seven—some of them limped as they ran."
"When we heard the stampede," said Grant Norris, "we didn't need Bob's whistle to tell us to come on. There were no voodoo skunks going to hang back for any more, after all that 'whoop-er-up.' We got into town without any more accidents, and—"
"That was mighty fortunate for the voodoos," drawled Ray. "But where's the pickaninnies?"
"Melie here, turned them over to a priest," said Norris. "We lost some time finding him."
Carlos had edged up, and I could see he wanted a word with me. So I led him toward the schooner's bow; and he told me his news, leaning on the rail.
"Duran, he is in the city," he said.
He had touched on the thing that was in my mind; for during Norris's and Robert's recital of their adventures, I was wondering where this white voodoo should be all that while. I was conscious that it was this man—or fiend—that was to continue to be the center and spring of all our interest to the end of the chapter.
"Have you seen him?" I asked.
"No, I have one friend in the city who see him," Carlos said. "He buy new picks, an' he buy pack-straps, for to carry things on thee back, and new rope an' pulleys."
It developed that this friend of Carlos had long been of help to him, in keeping an observant eye on Duran when in his city haunts; and it came out that this friend's home was on the very street on which Robert and I had first encountered Duran.
"Well, Carlos," I said, "if we are to find this gold mine of yours, we'll have to keep an eye on Duran."
"Yes," he nodded. "And he kill' my father, an' my brother." And Carlos smiled a smile with his teeth set, and that gave him a sinister look. In spite of the night I could see so much of his face. It was more lust for vengeance than love of gold that showed there then.
"I can speak for us all, Carlos," I said; "We will see this thing through. And we all want to see this man brought to justice for his crimes."
"Ah, I glad for to hear you say that!" he said. "Maybe we can find for you much gold. I hope that."
I called the others into conference; and we made plans for our next move. We would turn in at once for a good sleep; and before daylight we would go ashore and into the city and pick up Duran's trail. Carlos's friend had promised to keep his eye on Duran's movements, which he had learned to interpret in limited measure.
Before taking to our pallets, on the deck, we bade goodbye to the Cambons, who were to take steamer for home on the morrow. Little Marie made me promise to come to her home some time soon, said she would adopt me for her brother, so that I could have a good mother, too, in the place of the good mother I had lost.