Donald’s encounter had been with no less a personage than ‘Bully’ Broom himself, whose spies in the town had informed him that a party of Americans had arrived on a yacht and had been making inquiries about a missing man named Jukes. Broom at once knew that the half-suspected had happened, and that a strong party in search of the missing man had, by some inexplicable (to him) chance, arrived in Bomobori.
He perceived at once that Donald’s presence at the hotel, where he had abandoned him to his fate, might result disastrously for him and he congratulated himself that the boy did not know more of the fate of Jerushah Jukes than he had already told our friends. But even that meager information, Broom foresaw, might be used to great advantage, so he posted himself in a resort frequented by men of his type of whom there are many in the South Seas, and despatched some of his crew to look for the boy he had cast off.
It was not long before Donald who, to do him justice, came unwillingly at first, was presented to Broom by two villainous-looking half-caste Malay sailors, for Broom had few white men in his crew.
“They talk too much,” he was wont to say.
As soon as Donald appeared, the ‘Bully’ reversed his usual tactics and tried to make himself as pleasant as possible. He was a huge-framed ruffian with a tangled black beard, and burned brown enough by sun and wind to be taken for a negro. Donald soon saw that he had nothing to fear from Broom now, and being a sharp boy he proceeded to take the initiative after some verbal sparring.
“You’ve got an awful nerve sending for me after the treatment you gave me,” he observed. “What do you want, anyhow?”
“Now see here, boy,” bellowed Broom, in his gruff voice which he tried to render amiable without much success, so used was he to ruling his band with an iron hand, “I’ll admit that I may have used you a bit roughly, but that was the way of the sea. A fine young fellow like you, though, oughtn’t to mind that. A little knocking about is good for you.”
“Yes, and it was good for me to be left stranded in this hole, too, I suppose,” said Donald.
“I didn’t leave you stranded. I was merely out of funds and was coming back to pay you up and get you out of trouble,” protested Broom, with an earnestness that appeared genuine. “See here.”
He plunged his hand into his pocket and drew out a handful of gold and then let it fall trickling on the table.
“That doesn’t look as if I wasn’t able to do it, either, does it?” he demanded. “Now, see here,” he went on, “I’ve got a proposition to make to you. You’re a smart lad, a clever lad, and one that’s bound to get on the world. I’m going to help you, too.”
“Well, what do you want?” demanded Donald, who was very susceptible to flattery, and who had a weak nature, easily played upon by any one skillful enough to touch the right chord.
“That gang that arrived on the yacht? What about them?” came from Broom.
“They are going to cook your hash if you don’t look out,” said Donald. “That’s Jukes’ brother, and they’re going to find him wherever you’ve put him and then nab you.”
“So that’s the program, eh?” muttered the ‘Bully.’ “Now see here, Donald, I want you on my side and I’m not afraid to pay for it. A smart and clever boy like you could do me a deal of harm if you were sided with the enemy. You’ll be no loser by it. You haven’t told them anything about our little deal with the Centurion yet, have you?”
Donald did some quick thinking. He was sharp enough to see that Broom was afraid of what he might have said, for even in Bomobori there was law and if it were known to Mr. Jukes that Broom was in the vicinity it would be immediately invoked. He balanced his two opportunities against each other. Cupidity, greed for money, had always been his main fault, and now he thought he saw a way to make more out of Broom than he could out of Mr. Jukes. Besides, although he had appeared so humbled before the boys, and ashamed of his past conduct, his hatred still rankled, for the reason that he blamed all his troubles on them and had often brooded over plans of revenge.
“No, I haven’t told them anything about the Centurion,” he said at length, fearing that if he told Broom how much the Jukes party knew the freebooter might withdraw from any deal he was about to make. “I simply gave them a cock-and-bull story about myself when they were astonished to find me here.”
“Ah! So you know them, then? They are friends of yours?” exclaimed Broom.
“Hardly friends,” muttered Donald. “I knew them in America.”
“You’ve no particular affection for them, though?”
“How do you know?”
“Your tone told me that, my young friend.”
“Well, I might as well admit it. I don’t like them. They wronged me in America and that’s why I am here now. I’ve treated them in a friendly way because I’m out of money.”
Broom’s deep set eyes flashed.
“You’ve got a good head boy, very good,” he said, approvingly. “Now to get down to business. I’ll give you a handsome sum to stay on my side.”
“The money on the nail. I want you to do a little job for me in return. Keep your mouth absolutely shut, but find out all you can about their plans. You will always find me here when you want to report. Here’s something to start with,” and he pushed over the gold which lay on the table.
Donald’s eyes sparkled greedily as he counted it.
“All right, I’ll do what you say,” he remarked, as he pocketed it, “but tell me one thing: Where is Jerushah Jukes?”
“Ah, that is for me to know and for them to find out,” was Broom’s reply, “but I’ll tell you all about it in proper time.”
“It’s a wonder you are not afraid to be seen in the town,” said Donald. “Any one might tell them about your being here.”
“Nobody knows about me but my friends, and there is no danger of their talking.”
“But your schooner, which is as well known in this part of the ocean as a mail steamer?”
Broom smiled.
“You don’t think I’d be fool enough to bring my schooner in here after I heard about the arrival of Jukes’ yacht?” he asked. “The South Sea Lass is safely hidden up the coast. I came here on a native canoe.”
“Well, you ought to be good at covering up your tracks, you’ve had enough experience,” said Donald, with a sort of grudging admiration for the ruffian.
“One thing more,” said Broom, acknowledging what he chose to take as a compliment with a grin. “Jukes is very rich. Has he much money with him this trip?”
“I guess not. Jukes is pretty foxy with his money. If he has much it would be in some form that is not negotiable. He is not the sort of man to take chances.”
Broom nodded his massive head ponderously. He was evidently revolving some plan in his mind. Presently he brought down his heavy fist with a crash on the table.
“Jukes has poked his nose into this business,” he exclaimed, “and it will cost him something to get out of it before he gets through.”
“What do you mean?” asked Donald.
“If he was made a prisoner for instance, he would pay handsomely to be released.”
“I should say so. He’s worth about $20,000,000.”
Broom smacked his lips.
“Some of that’s as good as ours if you do what I tell you,” he exclaimed.
“Ours?” A greedy look crept into the boy’s face.
“Yes, when he pays up you’ll get your share and get even with the people you dislike at the same time.”
When Donald left the place with one of his ragged pockets bulging with unaccustomed wealth, a compact had been formed that was to cause our friends a great deal of trouble in the near future.
“It’s very peculiar that Donald should have undergone such a sudden change of front,” said Jack later that evening, following the boy’s strange way of receiving Mr. Jukes’ proposal. “He certainly appeared to want to go along the worst way a few hours ago.”
“I can’t help thinking that he has been up to some mischief,” replied Billy. “He’s got himself a new outfit somewhere and I saw him paying his hotel bill.”
“Well, at any rate that’s a laudable act,” laughed Jack. “After all, we are not much concerned with anything that he does now.”
“No, that’s true. By-the-way, how is that wireless idea of yours for a portable set getting along?”
“First rate; I’ve got it all worked out on paper and have cut the weight down to fifty pounds without the aerials.”
“Good for you. I’ve got a notion we can make a lot of use of it.”
“At any rate it won’t be much of an extra load and it might get us out of a tight place, who can tell?”
After some further talk the boys decided to turn in, as they had to be up early the next day. It was a hot, close night when the heavens seemed to be pressed down like a brazen lid on a pot. Far off, flashes of lightning illuminated the distant sky toward the mountains where, for all they knew, the millionaire’s abducted brother might be concealed.
“Phew! It’s warm,” exclaimed Jack. “I guess I’ll take a bath before I turn in.”
The boys’ bedroom was typical of hotels in that part of the world. Its floor was bare except for a strip of matting. There were two beds in it, hung with mosquito netting curtains, and a tiny wash basin and jug. An old-fashioned bell-pull hung near one of the beds and Jack decided to give it a tug and order a bath, when one of the native “bell boys” appeared. After a long interval, one of the barefooted functionaries of the hotel arrived. Jack made his wants known and the man hurried off again without a word.
“That’s odd,” commented Jack, “but I guess he’s gone to fill it and will be back directly to say it’s ready.”
They waited for some time before a soft patter of bare feet was heard in the hall and two of the native servants entered carrying between them a barrel. Another followed with a sort of dipper made out of a cocoanut.
The boys stared in amazement as the men advanced to the middle of the room and solemnly set down the barrel and then stood about waiting with an expectant look on their faces.
“What in the world is all this?” demanded the amazed Jack.
“Him your bath, boss,” came the answer, “you gettee in him ballel, we washee you.”
“I’ll be jiggered if you do,” exclaimed Jack. “Get out of here,” and the men hurried off, first staring at the boy as if they thought he was mad. “Well, a New Guinea bath certainly accounts for the appearance of some of the natives I’ve seen about,” he laughed, as soon as they had left. “But I suppose I must make the best of it.”
So Jack’s bath consisted of dipping water out of the tub and pouring it over himself, trying not to flood the room. But apparently he did so, for soon a loud and indignant voice was heard at the door.
“Who is there?” demanded the boys.
“Sapristi! Eet is I. Zee landlord. You flood zee place. Zee water drip on me.”
“Sorry,” sang out Jack, cheerfully, “but I’m doing the best I can. You see, I’m not used to the customs of the country yet. I don’t understand your way of bathing.”
“What do you mean zee bathing?”
“I’m trying to get a bath in this barrel that you sent me up.”
“Taking a bath!” shouted the landlord in a startled voice, “a bath at zees time of zee night. You must be crazee. Anyhow, you drop no more of zee water on me. I sleep zee room undaire.”
“Well, he doesn’t look as if a little water would hurt him,” commented Billy, as the landlord’s footsteps retreated down the passage.
The boys were soon in bed, but not to sleep. Their exciting day amid new scenes had rendered them wakeful and then, too, the beds of the Hotel Bomobori were not couches of roses. The sheets and pillows smelled abominably of camphor and mildew, and the latter appeared to have been, or so Billy declared, stuffed with corn cobs. The same applied to the mattresses. But as if this was not enough, there came a sudden shrill cry from somewhere in the room:
“Beck-ee! Beck-ee! Beck-ee!”
“What in the nation was that?” cried Billy, considerably startled.
“Somebody calling for 'Becky,’” laughed Jack, “but Rebecca won’t answer. Go to sleep, Billy, if you can, on these miserable beds. It must be some insect.”
“I hope it isn’t anything venomous,” muttered Raynor.
“Better keep your curtains close drawn and then it can’t get at you, anyhow,” advised Jack.
“But then it shuts out all the air and I almost suffocate,” complained Billy.
“Wow!” he yelled a moment later, in a tone that roused Jack, who was almost asleep.
“What’s the matter, Billy?” he asked anxiously.
“Ugh, something soft with legs on it just ran over my face,” cried Raynor. “For goodness’ sake get up and get a light. It may be something that bites or stings.”
Jack lost no time in getting hurriedly out of his bed, and as he shook the curtains something was dislodged from them and went whirring and banging round the room, blundering heavily against the ceiling.
“What the dickens——!” exclaimed the boy, considerably startled, when another cry from Billy split the air.
“Ouch, for the love of Mike. A light, quick. Something just nipped my toe.”
Jack fumbled for the matches; but, as is usual in such cases, he located every object in the room before he found them, finally colliding with the washstand and sending it with a crash to the ground floor. An instant later there was the noise of slamming doors below and the landlord came racing up the stairs to the boys’ room.
“Ciel! What is zee mattaire zees time? First you try drown me, zen you make zee beeg crash like zee tonnaire!”
“It’s all the fault of your old hotel,” exclaimed Jack angrily, going to the door. “This room is full of some kind of animals. It’s a regular menagerie.”
He opened the door and the landlord, with a curious-looking night-light, composed of a wick floating in a tumbler full of some strong-smelling oil that gave out a powerful odor of sandal wood, came inside. Instantly there was a mighty scuffling and several ugly looking lizards darted off across the floor and a huge bat (no doubt the creature that had vacated Jack’s bed-curtains with such a prodigious flapping) went soaring out through the open lattice-work doors which led out on the verandah, but which the boys had left open for coolness. There were also a dozen other specimens of unclassified insects, both winged and legged, which went scuttling off at the sight of the light. Then the landlord’s eye fell on the open doors.
“Sacre!” he cried, “nevaire did I such a foolishness see.”
“What’s the matter now?” demanded Jack. “The only foolishness I can see is in our coming to this hotel.”
The landlord shrugged his shoulders as if in despair.
“What else do you expect but zee bat, zee scorpion, zee centipede, zee leezard, zee chigre, zee——”
“What makes a noise like 'becky, becky, becky’?” asked Billy, breaking in on the catalogue.
“Ah! Zee biting leezard 'ee do zat.”
“Then that fellow that nipped my toe and the one that sang out for Rebecca must be the same individual,” cried Billy indignantly, “but go on with your catalogue.”
The landlord looked puzzled.
“Zere was zee cat and zee dog 'ere, too?” he demanded.
“No, I said the catalogue. The list of insects you were rattling off.”
“Oh, well, I was going to say to you not to leave zee porch doors open in zee night. And also nevaire go to bed wizout lighting one of zees lights.” He tapped the peculiar-smelling night-light he held. “See, here eez one 'ere on zees table.”
“Well, you can’t blame us for not knowing what it was,” protested Jack, as he lighted it. “I thought it was some peculiar kind of drink. It’s the first time I ever saw light served in a tumbler.”
“Zee light veree good,” said the landlord, as he was leaving the room. “Zee animal no like zee light, also they no like zee smell.”
“I don’t blame them,” said Jack, after the man had left, and the odd tumbler lamp was burning with a sputtering, smoking flame, “especially the smell part.”
“Anyhow, anything is better than sharing your bed with you-don’t-know-what creepy-crawly things,” declared Raynor.
“Yes, and lizards that go round hollering girls’ names,” agreed Jack. “I fancy we’ll sleep better now. But, after all, we’ve got to get used to it all for we may meet worse in the jungle.”
The next day was busily spent by the boys. Jack had his portable wireless to assemble. Raynor was assigned as “chief of baggage,” and Captain Sparhawk and Mr. Jukes, with Muldoon, who spoke the Papuan dialect after a fashion, occupied the time rounding up the native bearers and finding a suitable “head man.” The latter was very important to the success of the expedition, both to keep the other natives up to their work and to find trails and, if necessary, act as interpreter. Through the good offices of Jabez Hook, a “smart Yankee” who ran a “general store” at Bomobori, and was a warm friend of Captain Sparhawk’s, they finally found just the man they wanted. He was a tall, up-right Papuan with an exceptionally intelligent face, who spoke fair English, knew the country thoroughly and appeared about thirty years old. Salloo, as he called himself, agreed to have everything in readiness for a start into the interior by the next morning. He held out hopes that from some of the interior tribes they would get news of the lost ones, for among the natives news travels fast, and if ‘Bully’ Broom had conveyed prisoners into the inland some of the tribesmen would be sure to know about it.
When Jack returned from the Sea Gypsy, where he had set up his apparatus, he reported that all was well on board and everything going forward smoothly under the command of the first officer. Thurman appeared to be delighted with his chance to vindicate himself, but acting under Mr. Jukes’ advice, it had been deemed prudent to refuse him shore liberty till the party returned. Thurman did not seem to resent this, and told Jack that after all he had gone through, a “soft berth” and good meals on the yacht appealed to him. He had seen enough of the tropics, so he declared, to have no especial desire to go ashore at Bomobori.
It was not till eleven o’clock that night that they turned in. But when they did so it was with a satisfied feeling that every detail had been attended to. Not the least satisfactory result of the day had been Jack’s achievement of perfecting the portable wireless which would keep them at all times in touch with the yacht.
The next morning dawned bright and clear. The boys were up before any of the rest of the party, dressed in khaki suits, sun helmets and stout leggings, for much of the way would lie through ragged bush. Each lad carried a water canteen, a pocket filter, compass, knife, and wore a service revolver attached to a cartridge belt. In these “uniforms” they looked very business-like, and capable of giving a good account of themselves in any emergency. Soon after the other members of the party appeared somewhat similarly attired. Mr. Jukes’ pockets bulged with boxes of dyspepsia pills, and Muldoon wore his sailor uniform with the addition of leggings and a sun helmet.
“Shure I look like a sea soldier no liss,” was the way he summed up his appearance, and the boys couldn’t help agreeing with him.
While they were at breakfast, Salloo and his “bearers” presented themselves.
Salloo greeted them with a low “salaam,” and volunteered the information that:
“Him welly good day for makum start. Go many miles. Good trail for first part of journey.”
“Well, the further we go, the quicker we’ll get back,” commented Muldoon in true Irish style.
At eight o’clock they were off. Nobody in the town knew the true object of their expedition, but supposed they were off on a hunt for entomological specimens, for New Guinea swarms with rare forms of insect life and many intrepid collectors have found it a happy hunting ground, some of them paying for their devotion to science with their lives.
At first the question of traveling on horse-back had been mooted. But Salloo promptly vetoed this. The country was too rough and thickly grown to make horse-back travel feasible for more than a few miles, he declared. They might have used the river, but it was only navigable for a short distance when the swift current and the shoals made it dangerous for up-stream travel. Natives coming down it always abandoned their dugouts, which were simply hollow trees, at Bomobori, and went back to their villages on foot.
The town was soon left behind and they struck into a trail which was broad and well trodden. On all sides were dense groves of tropical vegetation, towering palms, spreading mangoes laden with golden fruit, that ever-present banana and fragrant guava and lemon trees. From the tall lance-wood and cotton trees great creepers and lianas, looking like serpents, twined and coiled. There was a moist, steaming heat in the air.
“It’s just like being in a big conservatory at home,” said Jack, and indeed the air had just the odor and closeness of a glass-house.
“This is fever territory,” declared Mr. Jukes, administering a large dose of quinine to himself. “There is to be no sleeping on the ground, remember.”
“I guess not, after the experience we had in our room at the hotel last night,” said Raynor, and amidst much laughter he narrated the details of their uncomfortable night.
As they pushed onward, there came from the river, which glinted like molten lead in the sunshine at their left, a long-drawn cry which startled all the white members of the expedition. It resembled the human voice and appeared to be the appeal of someone in agony.
“Shure there’s some poor soul in throuble over yonder forninst the river,” declared Muldoon, and before any one could stop him he had left the trail and was making for the water.
“Hi you white man, you comee back,” cried Salloo.
But he was too late. Hardly had Muldoon left the trail than he sank up to his knees in black, oozy mud which held him like liquid glue.
His struggles only made matters worse, and soon he was up to his knees in the evil-smelling, glutinous mass which bubbled about him as it sucked him down.
“Help! Murther! Shure, O’im kilt intirely!” cried the frightened man, waving his arms frantically.
All this time, from the river, came the same weird cries that had mystified them. What with these cries and Muldoon’s lusty yells for help, had there been an enemy within a mile they must have heard them, but luckily they were in a territory known to be peaceable, although Salloo was not quite so sure of some of the tribes who had a bad reputation as “head hunters.”
“He’s stuck in the mud!” exclaimed Jack, and was starting forward to Muldoon’s assistance when Salloo grabbed his arm.
“No go,” he warned, “him mud velly bad. Make drown in mud plitty quick no get helpee.”
The native began making his way by a circuitous route toward the luckless Muldoon. In his hand he had a long rope. He leaped from tuft to tuft of the hummocks that appeared above the black soil. As soon as he got close enough to Muldoon he threw the struggling boatswain the end of the line, which Muldoon had presence of mind enough to place under his arm-pits. Then Salloo skipped nimbly back to the trail and all laying hold with a will they soon hauled Muldoon out of his disagreeable predicament, although he was a sorry sight to look at.
“But faith,” he exclaimed, “it’s glad enough I am to know O’im not dead intirely. A little mud will soon dry and clean off, begob.”
“Tropical places are full of just such treacherous swamps,” declared Captain Sparhawk. “It will be well for all of us to be very careful and not leave the trail except by Salloo’s advice.”
But now the strange wailing sound which they had for the moment forgotten in the excitement of Muldoon’s rescue again startled them. The cause of it was quickly explained by Salloo.
“Him dugong, allee samee sea-cow,” he said.
“Oh, I know now—like the manitou they have in Florida,” cried Jack.
“Me no know 'bout man or two,” said Salloo, “but him big an’mul. Live in river. Makee noise like heap cryee allee timee.”
“It sounds as if somebody was being murdered,” commented Raynor. “However, I guess we’re not the first people to be scared by the dinner-gong, or whatever you call it.”
The halt for the noon-day meal was made in a pleasant grove of tropical trees which stood on safe rising ground to one side of the trail. All the white members of the party were glad enough of the chance to take a rest, but the wiry natives appeared to be perfectly fresh and strong as when they set out, despite their heavy burdens. While the natives began cooking their rice and salted fish, with a sort of curry sauce, Salloo set about making a fire for the whites. With marvelous dexterity he twirled a stick between his outspread hands against some dry tinder and soon had a good blaze going. The boys scattered to get wood, of which they soon had a sufficient quantity. Then, determined to make the most of their halt, they flung themselves down under a peculiarly fine tree with wide, dark green leaves, glossy as polished leather.
They were chatting about the incidents of the trip so far when Jack all at once felt something strike him on the arm. His first impression was that it was a stone. But on looking at the place where he had been struck he saw that the sleeve of his shirt, for he had laid aside his khaki coat, had been ripped in parallel lines as if a curry comb, with sharp teeth, had been drawn down it. He felt a sharp pain moreover, and then he saw blood on his arm.
Billy had sprung up in alarm at his sharp exclamation of pain, and was peering into the brush in the dread of seeing savage faces peering at them. His shout of alarm brought them all, including Salloo, on the run to Jack’s side. The boy explained what had occurred and the faces of the whites grew grave. If they were attacked at this early stage of the journey it augured ill for the remainder of their adventure.
But Salloo speedily solved the mystery. Lying on the ground beside Jack was a green, oval-shaped ball, about the size of those projectiles that one sees stacked by memorial cannons in our country. But this missile was covered with sharp spikes like the spines of a hedgehog. Salloo pointed up into the beautiful tree under which they had cast themselves down to rest.
“Nobody throw him,” he explained, “him big fruit, some callum Durion nut. You comee way from there. One hittee you headee your blains getee knocked out.”
“They deserve to be for getting up a scare like that,” laughed Jack, who, like Billy, stepped hastily from under the dangerous tree. “It seems to be a pretty good idea in this country to be always on the look out. Even nature seems to have it in for you.”
Jack’s arm was doctored by Captain Sparhawk, for it was quite painful, but luckily the spines of the durion, sometimes called the Jack fruit, are not poisonous and it was soon all right again. But during the noon-day meal, which was then ready, when they heard the crashing of nut after nut from the durion tree, both boys felt they had had a very lucky escape from having their skulls fractured.
“Be jabers,” commented Muldoon, “shure o’ive been in a hurricane where the blocks and tackle that was ripped from aloft made yez skip around loively to dodge thim, but this is the first toime thot iver I heard of a three throwing things at yez as if ye was a nigger dodger at a fair.”
“You’ll discover stranger things than that, Muldoon, before we have been very long in New Guinea,” said Captain Sparhawk.
“Faith, so long as they’re not snakes, oi dunno thot I care much,” said the Irishman. “Begob, o’im thinking that St. Pathrick would be a good man to have along in a counthry where the craturs are. Wun wave uv his sthick and away they’d all go, bad luck to thim.”
For two days they traveled thus, making fresh discoveries constantly. Once, for instance, Billy triumphantly pounced on what seemed like a fine bit of fire-wood for the noon-day halt. But he dropped it with a yell, as the “stick” suddenly developed legs and on being dropped walked off.
“Begorrah, there’s a shillalegh come to loife, so it has,” yelled Muldoon, as he observed the phenomenon; but the “shillalegh” was only one of those strange “stick insects” that abound in that part of the world and sometimes fool even the natives.
At noon of the third day they found themselves approaching a settlement, as cleared ground, where grew maize, sugar cane, yams and other plants, testified. The village proved to be a large one where white traders and animal collectors often stopped and there was a native hostelry in it conducted by a greasy-looking Frenchman who had a native wife as dirty-looking as he was. The native huts were all of bamboo hung with cocoanut mats. Natives squatted in front of them chewing betel nuts, the juice crimsoning their lips and chins. All ages and both sexes indulged in the habit, which is universal throughout Polynesia and the South Seas generally.
There appeared to be a lot of rivalry among the men as to who could grow the fuzziest, most outstanding crop of hair.
“Faith, a barber would starve to death in this country,” declared Muldoon.
Just then a young woman came down the “street,” if such the muddy track between the huts could be called. She held something in her arms that they thought at first was a baby. But it turned out to be a young pig!
“We’ll rest at the hotel here,” said Mr. Jukes, “till it grows cooler. My dyspepsia is bad again. It comes from traveling during the heat of the day as we have been doing.”
The mid-day meal was cooked on a sort of altar built of stones. The boys watched the operations in this open-air kitchen with interest. At least twenty natives assisted in the culinary demonstration and the chatter and laughter was deafening. They made a hearty meal on the native fare, which they were astonished to find was quite as good as anything they had tasted at home.
As Mr. Jukes did not wish to go forward at once after the meal they took it easy in several grass hammocks stretched under a large, shady, tree. The fact that the natives kept coming up and peering into their faces and that babies, chickens and pigs wandered about under the hammocks did not disturb the boys after a while, and they dropped off to sleep.
“I don’t wonder the natives here are lazy,” remarked Jack, when Muldoon awakened him with a yell of “All hands on deck to see it rain.” “I rarely slept in the day-time, but here I just dozed off without knowing it.”
“Same here,” chimed in Raynor. “I didn’t have to even half try.”
“This climate is very enervating, boys,” declared Captain Sparhawk, joining in the conversation. “That is why this part of the globe makes so little progress toward civilisation. Men who are hustlers in their own country come here determined to make the dirt fly, but after a few months their energy oozes out of them like—well, say like tar out of the seams of a hot ship’s deck.”
“That’s a good comparison,” laughed Jack.
Once more everything was stirring in the adventurers’ camp, and soon they were on their way again. The Frenchman, whose “hotel” they had left, had told them that by evening they would reach another village, the last one they would encounter before plunging into the really wild jungle, where there was another “hotel.”
“As it will be our last chance for many days to sleep under a roof, I propose we stay there to-night,” said Mr. Jukes, swallowing a pill.
This suited the rest of the party and they struck forward at a brisk pace after their refreshing rest and sleep. The jungle was filled with countless birds, but there were no feathered songsters among them. The air was filled with nothing but discordant shrieks and cries that set the teeth on edge. Once the boys had the thrill of seeing a bird of paradise, with its glorious plumage and wonderful tail feathers, flash across their path.
The village they stopped at that evening resembled in almost every respect the one in which the noon-day halt had been made. There were the same huts, the same swarming pigs and chickens, and the same fuzzy-headed Papuans, many of them returning from the fields with corn and yams.
The proprietor of the “hotel,” which had no more pretensions to the name than the other hostelry, proved to be a Portuguese half-caste, lacking one eye, and sporting a pair of huge brass ear-rings. His wife was a giant negress. However, they welcomed the party warmly, as they had good reason to do, not having had any guests for some time, and pigs and fowls were at once killed for supper, everything in such places being ordered “on the hoof,” so to speak. Mr. Jukes delighted his native followers by ordering an elaborate meal for them also, in celebration of the fact that on the morrow they would leave “civilization” behind them.
Jack, at Mr. Jukes’ request, set up his wireless plant, stringing the aerials from a tall tree up which one of the natives swarmed like a monkey to make the long wires fast. As he worked, he and Billy talked.
“I guess we’ll sleep with one eye open to-night,” said Jack in an undertone, for they were surrounded by a curious crowd watching the white boy “make conjure medicine.”
“Yes, those hotel people are a crafty-looking couple,” rejoined Billy, “and in a country like this it’s a good thing to regard everybody with suspicion till you find them all right.”
Muldoon sauntered up to them as they chatted and worked and had his word to put in too.
“Begorrah, that Portugee don’t look like no angel,” he said, “and his wife looks like the ould Nick himsilf.”
“Just what we were talking about, Muldoon,” said Jack. “It will be a good thing if we keep our eyes and ears open.”
At last Jack got everything ready, and Raynor started to turn the hand-crank of the generator, for of course a gasoline engine for that purpose could not be carried into the jungle. When the storage batteries were charged, Jack began to pump out the Sea Gypsy’s call. At the first crackle and whip-snap like explosion of the spark the natives scattered with yells. Even Salloo, who was looking on, and had to stand his ground to maintain his dignity before his men, looked uneasy and shifted about nervously.
It was some time before Jack got a reply, but at last he received Thurman’s answering call.
Everything it seemed was O. K. and there was no particular news from his end except that another party had started up-country right on the heels of Mr. Jukes’ expedition. It was thought they were traders, Thurman said. Jack gave his news and then flashed “Good-night.”
He told Mr. Jukes of the conversation and of the start of a second party.
“I heard nothing in Bomobori of a second expedition,” mused Mr. Jukes, on receipt of this information. “But no doubt they are traders. It seems odd, though, that they didn’t join with us if they were coming this way, as is the general custom.”
The hostelry was divided into half a dozen rooms walled with bamboo, and all on the ground floor. Rough mats of cocoanut cloth alone interposed between the sleepers and the ground, and cockroaches and singing lizards abounded. But by this time the lads had become pretty well used to the night noises of the jungle, which are far more tumultuous after dark than in the day-time, and as for the hard beds, they were too tired to mind much where they slept.
Jack had not slept long when he was awakened by someone calling to him. It was Muldoon. The Irishman was plainly agitated by some excitement as he stood in the grass-curtained door-way.
“Whist!” he exclaimed, holding a finger to his lips, “is thot you Misther Riddy?”
“Yes, what’s the trouble, Muldoon?”
“Shure o’ive made a discovery, sor.”
“What?”
“Thot other party. Ther ones you was tiligraphing about.”
“Well, what about them?”
“They’re here, begob.”
“Where, in the hotel?”
“No, in the woods back of the house.”
“Camping there?”
“No, bejabbers. There’s something looks queer to me about the whole thing, that’s why I called yez. They’ve sent for the Dago that runs this shabeen, sor.”
“Maybe they want to get accommodations?”
“Thin why wouldn’t they stip up like min and ask for ’em?” was Muldoon’s unanswerable retort.
Just then Mr. Jukes, rubbing his eyes sleepily, appeared in the door-way. Behind him stood the giant negress. The millionaire had evidently dressed hastily.
“I’ve got news, Ready,” he exclaimed in a rather excited voice. “This woman has just told me that her husband wants to see me outside. I gathered it’s on some matter connected with my brother.”
“Yassir,” grinned the hideous negress, showing a double row of sharply filed teeth, “dat’s it, sah. It’s 'bout yo’ brudder.”
Raynor had awakened by this time and was sitting up on his mat listening sleepily. He eyed the woman narrowly as she spoke and an uneasy conviction entered his mind that all was not well.
“You’d better be cautious, sir,” warned Jack, who also felt an undeniable feeling of suspicion, “something may be wrong.”
“What can be wrong,” demanded Mr. Jukes, rather impatiently. “I’m going outside to see. If it’s about my brother it’s my duty to do so at once.”
“Then if you’re going I’ll go with you,” said Jack, hastily throwing on the garments he had divested himself of, and strapping on his revolver.
“And begorrah o’i second the motion,” declared Muldoon.
“Wait a moment for me,” begged Billy.
“No, stay here,” said Jack. “If anything goes wrong, I’ll fire three shots.”
A minute later, followed by the native woman, the three left the place. As they reached the door she took the lead and conducted them through a bamboo grove to a thick growth of trees under which her husband and a big man with black beard were conversing.
“You wish to see me?” asked Mr. Jukes, addressing the bearded one.
“Yes; zees gentleman say zat 'e ave good news for you,” said the landlord, spreading his hands.
“Begorrah, oi don’t see no gintilmin here excipt oursilves,” muttered Muldoon.
“Muldoon, be quiet,” ordered Mr. Jukes, then turning to the black-bearded man he went on with, “Well, sir, what is it you wish?”
“You are Mr. Jukes?” asked the other, in a deep, gruff voice.
“I am, what of it?”
“I want to see you. I have news for you.”
“But—but I don’t know you. Why didn’t you come to the hotel if you had anything to say to me?” asked the millionaire in a puzzled way.
“I wanted to talk to you in private about your brother,” was the reply.
“My brother! Why, we are searching for him now. That is the reason of our presence in the jungle. Do you know anything about him?”
“I do. It was he who sent me here.”
“Jerushah sent you?” the millionaire was fairly amazed now. “He is then alive?”
“Yes, but he is a prisoner and very sick. Through natives he heard of the arrival of your expedition and sent me even at this hour to bring you to him.”
“That is a strange story, my man,” said Mr. Jukes suspiciously. “I might say it is almost incredible.”
“I’ll admit it does sound strange,” said the other, “but strange things happen in this part of the world. I might add that the other Mr. Jukes wants to see you alone. Something about a pearl, I believe.”
Jack gave a tug at Mr. Jukes’ sleeve. The lad had been peering about him through the dark trees and had seen something the others had not. If his eyes had not deceived him, and Jack did not believe they had, several forms were moving about in the gloom beneath the interlaced branches.
“Mr. Jukes,” he whispered, “I don’t believe this man. I think we are in some sort of a trap. Why didn’t he come to the house with this cock-and-bull story?”
Mr. Jukes hesitated. It was strange that this man of great affairs, before whom board meetings quailed, and who ruled almost supreme among the great money kings of New York, appeared to be lost now that he was out of his little world and among the great elemental things of the untraveled jungle.
“I’m sure I don’t know, Ready,” he replied.
“Ask him,” suggested Jack, with his hand on his revolver. He felt that a crisis of some sort was at hand, but it was too late to retreat now.
Mr. Jukes, with some of his old pomposity, put the question. The bearded man’s reply was brief and to the point.
“That is beside the question,” he snapped. “Are you coming with me?”
Before any reply could be made the bearded man’s eye caught the glint of Jack’s weapon. Instantly a shrill whistle sounded. From the trees leaped a dozen or more men.
“Howly saints! A trap!” yelled Muldoon.
“A trap!” echoed Jack. He raised his pistol to cover the black-bearded man. But before he had it leveled both he and Mr. Jukes were thrown from their feet by a combined attack and in a twinkling both the millionaire and the boy were helpless.
“Run for the house, Muldoon. Warn the others. Come after us as quick as you can.”
“Hold your horses there,” roared the black-bearded man, who, as our readers will have guessed, was ‘Bully’ Broom himself, with his band of renegade followers. He tried to block the boatswain’s path as Muldoon darted off.
Biff, the old seaman’s knotted fist shot out and caught the redoubtable ‘Bully’ between his eyes. He staggered but did not fall.
“Take that, you murtherin’ spalpeen,” shouted Muldoon, as he darted off among the trees and was speedily lost to sight. Three or four of the band pursued him, but ‘Bully’ Broom called them back.
“We’ve got the fellows we want,” he said; “bind and gag them and if they show fight don’t be too gentle with them.”