CHAPTER XX.

THE BOYS ENCOUNTER A BIG SURPRISE.

To the boys in the boat, pulling away from the anchored "Nomad," the island appeared a veritable dreamland of beauty and fertility. The gray cliff-face, sheer and rugged, was topped by a fairy-like growth of lofty palms and intertwining creepers. They could see fruits and flowers of strange shapes and gorgeous hues shining among the foliage.

"Well, this must be Utopia, all right," breathed Joe.

"Wh-w-w-w-w-wherever that mar-mar-may be," stuttered Ding-dong, with a grin.

"It's where folks talk straight," parried Joe, which brought a laugh both from the good-natured Ding-dong and from Nat, who was at the oars.

"Say, let's take a look at that great mass of creepers and stuff that hangs over the cliff-face," said Joe suddenly.

The others were nothing loathe.

"But we promised Captain Akers that we would not land," reminded the dutiful Joe.

"Well, this won't be landing," temporized Nat, who was fairly carried away with a desire to examine this South Sea fairyland.

"That's so," agreed Joe; "well, row ahead and put us alongside yon waterfall of fruits and flowers."

"My, but you are per-per-poetical," snorted Ding-dong.

"This place would make a goat poetical," retorted the other, as Nat, with some powerful strokes, sent them flying over the still, lake-like surface of the water, which reflected the cliff in every detail, and into whose depths they could see quite clearly. Below them myriads of bright colored fish sported and swam amid seaweed of fantastic form and hue.

All this could be seen as if they were gazing into a cool, green mirror.

But in a few minutes they were alongside the tumbling mass of creepers. Such was the impetus of the boat, in fact, that Nat, who had not been on the lookout, could not stop it.

"What ho, she bumps!" shouted Joe, steadying himself in preparation for the coming shock. But, to his astonishment, the boat, instead of bumping into the creepers with a hard shock, passed clean through them.

In an instant they found themselves shut out from the open lagoon or bay behind them, and were floating in a deep sort of lake, hemmed in by high cliffs. This was screened from the sea by what may well be termed a natural drop curtain—to wit, the hanging mass of creepers through which the boat had passed.

"Well, did you ever?" exclaimed Joe, as he gazed about him.

"N-n-n-n-n-o, I ner-ner-ner-never," responded Ding-dong, with deep conviction. His tones echoed back solemnly from the amphitheater of cliffs that towered on every side of them, their rough faces being reflected as in a looking-glass by the still water.

It was at this moment that consternation over their disappearance was at its height on board the "Nomad." But, boy-like, the lads did not consider this.

"Let's explore this place a bit before we go back," suggested Nat, who had noted that the lake narrowed at its farther end to a river, which flowed at the bottom of a narrow and deep gorge.

He fell to on his oars once more and the boat was soon traversing the depths of the gloomy abyss. All at once the cleft in the rocks widened and they emerged upon another lake.

And right here the biggest surprise any of them had ever encountered awaited them.

Anchored in the middle of the landlocked body of water was a schooner.

On her stern the boys had hardly finished reading the name "Nettie Nelsen," before a fresh surprise almost overwhelmed them.

From behind them there suddenly sounded a harsh voice, which Nat, at least, knew only too well:

"Well! Well! Some really welcome visitors!"

They turned to face the hawk-like features of Colonel Morello, who stood on the banks of the lake.

By his side was Dayton, while behind them several other ill-favored members of the band hung about. The first thing that Nat noticed was that Colonel Morello held a leveled rifle pointed straight at him. The next was that Dayton held the same position and that the trigger fingers of both were in a position instantly to discharge their weapons.

"I rather think you had better come ashore, boys," cooed the half-Mexican rascal in his silkiest tones. "To descend to slang, it looks to me rather as if we had the drop on you."

Nat could not but admit it. He cast one despairing glance about him and saw that escape was impossible. With a face that was rather paler than was its wont, he took up the oars, and a few minutes later Morello's band had laid hold of the prow of the boat and were dragging it up on the beach. Some of them laid rough hands on the boys as they stepped out, but Morello's voice checked them.

"Steady, boys, steady," he ordered; "plenty of time to even up our scores with the young ne'er-do-wells. Ha! Ha! It was really amusing the way you boys just walked into our trap," he went on. "We sighted your craft approaching the island some time ago, but we had hardly prepared to receive you before to-morrow, and now," he went on in the same taunting tone, "as it is getting dark let us make our way to my humble residence, where to-night you will be accommodated with lodgings. After to-morrow you will not need them," he added, with savage emphasis.

"Colonel Morello," said Nat, in a steady voice, "I think you are the biggest scoundrel I ever saw."

"Really you compliment me," rejoined the ruffian, with a hideous leer. "Now, boys," he went on, addressing his followers, "just march these young cubs up to the camp. To-morrow we'll get the rest of the precious party and then we'll take a trip to Australia in their gasolene cruiser—eh, Dayton?"

"I guess that's the program, colonel," smiled the rascal addressed. "Oh, there's no question about it but that Master Trevor here has proven a very accommodating youth."

The others chuckled loudly at this sally. Nat's blood boiled within him. Joe's cheeks flamed angrily, while Ding-dong looked daggers at the scoundrel. But so far as making reprisals went, the Motor Rangers were as powerless as kittens.

This time Morello undoubtedly would not give them even the shadow of a chance to escape. Their situation appeared well-nigh hopeless to all but Nat.

With every reason to feel despondent—nay, hopeless—the lad determined to keep his eyes open in the rather vain hope that something might turn up which they could seize upon to advantage.

But when they reached the camp, after some half hour of traversing a rough, stony section of the island, thickly strewn with boulders and intergrown with coarse grass and brush, he had to own that the prospects of escape were, to say the least, not at all numerous.

The camp was located in the bottom of a sort of deep dell, leading up from the lake, and was evidently on the edge of a plantation, at least, so the boys judged from the orderly way in which the trees were planted out. As for the camp itself, it consisted of a collection of tents and huts, roughly made from limbs of trees and roofed with branches. But in that mild climate such protection was ample.

To Nat's surprise, as they approached this camp, from among the tents and rough shacks, a strange figure to be met with under the circumstances advanced to meet them. It was the figure of a tall American, in white duck and wearing a broad-brimmed Jippa Jappa hat. His feet were encased in sandals, and about his waist was a red sash. An inky black beard grew about the lower part of his face. Perhaps it was there to hide the cruel and sinister mouth. For the rest he was tall, had a commanding carriage and seemed to be considerably above the social station of the ruffians he was consorting with.

As he came forward, Morello addressed him.

"Ah, Mr. Gooddale, well met. We have brought some visitors with us, as you will see. They are young rascals who are in the pay of the United States government to spy on honest traders in the South Seas."

The amazing effrontery of such a misstatement, for whatever purpose it was uttered, fairly took Nat's breath away. He could say nothing, but stood looking at the newcomer, who, in turn, stared at the boys.

Then he spoke in a rasping, unpleasant voice.

"Well, Morello, you must do as you wish with them. It is not my affair at all, but from what you have told me of them I think that such lads are better out of harm's way."

"Exactly," rejoined Morello, "and now, if you please, I will have them placed somewhere where they will be safe for the night. One of them particularly is a very slippery youth," casting a lowering glance at Nat.

"Just as you please, Morello," responded the other listlessly. "You must have your way, I suppose. At any rate, Elias Gooddale will not oppose you."

"Elias Gooddale!" exclaimed Nat, startled out of his resolve to keep silent whatever might happen.

The black-bearded man bent a piercing gaze upon him.

"Yes, young man, that is my name," was his response.

"That is queer," rejoined Nat, who scented some mystery; "the last time I encountered any one of your name was in a hut in the Sierras."

The other started and turned pale.

"In the Sierra Nevadas, you mean?"

"That's it—yes. He was a miner there. We visited his hut."

With still more agitation, the other went on:

"This is a most extraordinary thing. A man of the same name as myself. Strange—very."

But Nat shrewdly saw that the other's agitation proceeded from some deeper-seated cause than his surprise at a similarity in names.

"What did he say to you?" asked this new Elias Gooddale eagerly.

"Nothing," responded Nat.

"Nothing," echoed the other. "Don't trifle with me, boy. Did he not say something about righting a wrong? Did he not say anything?"

Nat shook his head.

"The Elias Gooddale we knew had been dead some time when we discovered his body," he rejoined.

The black-bearded man gave an exclamation of amazement and consternation. He regarded Nat more closely than ever.

"Clearly," thought the boy, "I have stumbled on some tangle that may be of use to us."

As the other plied him with more questions, he resolved to be as secretive as possible.

CHAPTER XXI.

ATTACKED BY MARQUESANS.

But for some purposes of his own, Morello, on a whispered word from Dayton, brought the examination to an abrupt conclusion. The boys were then, on Morello's orders, bound closely with fiber ropes, and after being hustled into a thick grove of dark-leaved bread-fruit trees in the back of the camp, were thrown into a hut made of pliant strands of some sort of bark, interwoven with bamboo uprights.

The appearance of the hut apprised Nat at once that it was of native manufacture. Evidently, then, this island either at the present time or at some remote period, had provided a living place for native tribesmen. The lad wondered if any of them were on it now, or if they had either fled or been wiped out before the white man.

Even in the dangerous predicament in which he and his companions were now placed, Nat could not help speculating as to the connection between this Elias Gooddale of the South Seas and the dead miner of the same name, whose hoard of sapphires had brought them into this strange maze of adventures.

The other Motor Rangers, too, were puzzled by the strange phase the case had assumed. But they could hit on no explanation.

"I wish I had that tin box with the papers we found in the hut," thought Nat. "I never read them all through. I wish I had now, for perhaps among them might be some document that would throw light on the matter."

But the consideration of their grave danger soon drove all thoughts but those of the immediate present out of the lad's head. At about eight-thirty, as well as he could judge, the two men who had been placed to guard them were relieved by two others, who brought with them the lads' suppers. These consisted of dried fish and rice, with water as a beverage. Their hands were released while they ate, but before long their guardians retied them, strapping them close to their sides in a manner that made all hope of working them loose seem futile.

The two men who had "relieved guard" were both stout, stockily built men, roughly dressed. Owing to the heat, they had discarded the garments they had worn when in the Sierras, and now were attired only in light canvas trousers, seemingly made from sail cloth, and sleeveless undershirts. After the boys had been fed and re-manacled, the two sentries, with their rifles between their knees, took up their positions at the door of the hut. They conversed in low tones and much of their conversation was audible to the boys.

"I, for one, say to blazes with this way of living," said one of them, in a grumbling tone. "When are we going to clear out for Australia, as Morello promised?"

"That depends on him," rejoined the other. "He ain't the one to give his plans away. Looks as if he and this Gooddale had something between them."

"It does that for a fact," was the reply, "and by the same token this Gooddale is a puzzle to me. Who is he, anyhow?"

"Well, beyond the fact that he owns a plantation down here, and seems to be an old pal of Morello's, it's hard to figger out. I reckon he's a mystery. One thing I know, he wasn't sorry when we arrived. These natives at the other end of the island had been invading his plantations pretty regular. From what I've heard, they threatened to attack him in war canoes if something—money, I guess—wasn't forthcoming before long."

"Phew!" whistled the other. "I hopes them natives don't take it into their fuzzy heads to attack the ranch while we are here. I've heard they are savage fighters and give no quarter."

"That's right, I guess. However, from all that I can hear, they ain't likely to get ugly so long as we are about. Figger out we're too strong a party for them, I guess. Don't know as I blame them for being sore on this Gooddale, either. From all I can hear, he treated them badly when first he settled on the island, and now they are just bent on making him pay for it."

"And if he won't give up?"

"In that case I guess they'll take it out of his hide. In other words, raid the place and do all the damage they can."

"But don't the French gunboats patrol around here pretty regular?"

"I guess so. But they couldn't spare the men or the time to send expeditions inter the interior of the islands. The natives know every path and trail. It might take months to punish them, so they have things pretty much their own way."

"It sure looks like that," agreed his companion. "But how about having a pull at that Pisco bottle?"

"Here it is," rejoined the other, apparently producing some sort of bottle and passing it to his companion.

"Ah-h-h-h-h-h, that was good," breathed one of the voices, after an interval.

"Well, you want to be careful how much you drink of it," was the answer. "It's fiery stuff, all right. They say that it has been the ruin of the natives down here."

"Comes from Peru, don't it?"

"That's right. But hark!—what in the name of the Old Harry is that?"

The boys, who had listened to this conversation with interest, wondered, too, what a sudden commotion in the direction of the camp might betoken.

Shouts, cries, and imprecations arose on the night air. Presently a fusillade of shots rang out.

"We're attacked!" shouted one of the men outside the hut. "Come on! Let's get over there!"

The next instant their retreating footsteps could be heard. In the meantime, the clamor and shooting had redoubled. Evidently whatever was occurring was marked by severe casualties, for the boys could hear groans and cries of pain mingling with the shouts of the fighters.

"Whatever can be happening?" gasped Joe.

"It sounds as if our friends, Colonel Morello's men, were getting the worst of it, anyway," declared Nat. "Hark!"

Savage cries with a triumphant ring to them could be heard, accompanied by a sort of war-like dirge.

"It's the natives!" cried Nat, his doubts cleared away by this last.

"They've attacked the camp!" cried Joe.

"Wer-wer-will they get after us?" gasped Ding-dong through the darkness.

"Impossible to say," was Nat's rejoinder. "All we can do is to hope not. I don't know, though, that we should be worse off in their hands than in the clutches of Colonel Morello."

"If only we could get free of these ropes, we could escape in the excitement," exclaimed Joe. "Oh, what wouldn't I give for a knife!"

"Mer-mer-uch good it would do you wer-wer-when you can't use your hands," scoffed Ding-dong Bell scornfully.

"That's so," agreed Joe, somewhat crestfallen. "There's nothing we can do, is there?"

"Nothing except to wait," declared Nat, "and that's the hardest thing in the world."

Suddenly the door of the hut flew open and a figure dashed in. It was pitch dark or Nat would have recognized it as one of their guards of a few minutes before. The fellow was wounded, seemingly, for he gave a groan and pitched forward as he entered the hut, which, as it was some distance from the main camp, he had evidently hit upon as a good hiding place.

"Oh," he moaned, in the darkness, "I'm wounded. Oh, somebody please tie up my shoulder."

A sudden idea struck Nat.

"I'd bandage it for you if I was free," he said.

"That's so," groaned the man; "you are bound, ain't you? But say, I kin use my left hand a bit and maybe I can cut you free. But will you promise to bandage my shoulder to prevent more blood flowing, if I do so?"

This was what Nat hoped for, and he readily agreed to do as the injured man requested. In a few seconds he felt the fellow's left hand fumbling about for the ropes. Presently, after hacking a bit, he severed one. It was one of the wrist thongs. With his hands free, the rest was easy for Nat. Taking the knife from the man, he cut the rest of his bonds and then liberated his companions. In the meantime, the man, in broken, disjointed sentences, had told them what had happened. Colonel Morello's band and Gooddale had been taken totally by surprise by the natives and had been utterly routed. Many of them had escaped to the schooner, but several were wounded in the fight.

After he was free Nat did not forget his promise, but tearing some strips from his shirt formed a rough bandage, with which he managed to assuage the flow of blood from the wounded man's shoulder.

"Thank you," breathed the fellow, as Nat finished his ministrations, "I might have bled to death if it hadn't a bin for you kids. I'm glad you are free and I hope you don't get caught by them natives. They are the worst looking bunch I ever saw. Most of 'em naked and painted, and with big china door knobs and such stuff slung about 'em, and great big spears."

Nat moved the water jar, which they had drunk from at supper—if such the meal may be called—closer to the wounded man and dragged him to a corner of the hut. There was a pile of leaves there—the big, broad foliage of the banana.

"Cover me with them," asked the man. "They'll hide me if any of them natives comes ter look in here."

Nat did this, and then, expressing a hope that the injured man, who, after all, had done them a good turn, would be all right, he and his companions set out.

Freed from their captivity by what seemed almost a miracle, they hesitated as they passed the portal of the hut.

Which way should they go?

As they lingered a fresh chorus of savage howls broke out on the air from the direction of the camp. At the same instant a faint illumination glowed upon the night. It spread and glared up fiercely, tinting the skies as it flamed higher.

To complete their work of devastation, the savages had fired the camp. From their howls and cries, they were dancing about it.

"Which way shall we go?" asked Joe, voicing the question in the hearts of all.

"I vote for the lake," said Nat. "Maybe we can find a boat there and make our way through the ravine and back to the 'Nomad.'"

Accordingly, skirting cautiously through the tropical growth, they made for the direction in which they judged the lake lay. The glare of the burning camp lit their path with a weird radiance, as they pushed onward.

CHAPTER XXII.

A STRANGE MEETING.

They gained the shores of the "lake" at a point a good distance removed from the vicinity of Colonel Morello's camp. But they no sooner reached the shore than by the light of the flames they perceived that, as the wounded man had said, some indeed of the band must have eluded capture or injury by the savages.

The two-masted schooner which had been the theater of Nat's former thrilling adventures was already in motion. With canvas up, she was heading for the mouth of the gorge.

Seemingly, the savages who had attacked the camp must have been a land force, for, although the boys could see several of them on the bank of the lake in the neighborhood of the burning camp, they made no effort to pursue the schooner. But as they watched her glide off they could be heard to utter angry cries and shouts.

"Well, so far, it looks as if the schooner will get off scot free," remarked Nat; "but what are they going to do when they come to the gorge? They can't sail her through that."

"Hardly," agreed Joe. "I guess when they reach it they will either tow her by boats or else warp her through by casting out the anchor and then pull in up on the cable."

The latter was, in fact, the means used by the fugitives to get through the narrow gorge. On board her were Colonel Morello, Ed. Dayton, and a dozen others, including Larsen, the giant Swede who acted as the vessel's navigator. They had escaped from the village when it was attacked by the natives and made straight for the banks of the lake where they had embarked in the collapsible boat brought by the boys and another small craft which they had there.

When they reached the open sea, after pushing through the curtain of greenery, the collapsible boat was cast adrift.

In the meantime, the boys had circled a great part of the lake in search of some sort of a boat which they thought might have been left there by either Gooddale or some of Morello's men.

All this took a long time, and it was close to midnight when Nat, who was in advance of the party, stopped and gave a cry of delight. Ahead of them on the white beach lay a canoe, turned bottom upward.

"Hooray!" shouted Nat. "With some branches for paddles we can make good our escape in this, all right. Boys, suppose you go and cut some limbs from those trees while I turn the canoe over and get her in the water, and then hooray! for the dear old 'Nomad.'"

Joe and Ding-dong, in a hurry to complete their errand, plunged into the dense jungle in search of suitable limbs, while Nat hastened to the side of the canoe and turned it over. As he did so he got one of the most thrilling shocks of his life.

From under the craft there leaped three hideous, painted savages. Their noses were transfixed with wooden pegs, brass rings hung from their ears, extending the lobes to an unnatural size. Round their necks hung strings of door-knobs, old cartridges, and various other bits of hardware.

They poised their spears threateningly at Nat who stood transfixed with alarm and astonishment.

The men formed part of an outlying system of sentries, posted by the wily old chief of the tribe.

One of them clapped his hand to his lips as a signal for silence, emphasizing his order by a flourish of his spear.

But he need not have done so. Nat knew that to make an outcry would mean that Ding-dong and Joe Hartley would come bounding to his assistance. In that case, they would be in as grave a fix as he was. So he remained silent while his captors signaled to him to follow them.

With one at his side and two spearsmen behind him, Nat had no recourse but to obey. As he stumbled along, for the savages were stepping out briskly, Nat found himself wondering what Ding-dong and Joe would think when they returned to the beach and found the canoe deserted. He hoped they would have presence of mind enough to waste no time in looking for him, but make all haste to the "Nomad" and summon aid.

If they did this he might be able to stave off harm till aid arrived. But in case it did not, Nat, foolishly perhaps, did not feel any immediate apprehension. His captors, while savage looking and menacing, did not appear willing to offer him any actual harm.

"I wonder where we are heading for?" thought Nat, as they hastened along, skirting the shores of the lake at the same brisk pace.

"I guess we are going back to the camp where the chief must be. In that case, it won't be long before I know what is to be done with me. If I can only convince the savages that I am as much an enemy of Gooddale and Morello as they are, I may get off without any trouble."

Buoying up his spirits by such thoughts, Nat stepped out as boldly as his captors, who from time to time conversed with each other in guttural monotones.

As Nat had surmised, their course was laid for the still blazing camp. At the pace they were going they reached it far quicker than it had taken the boys to traverse the distance to the canoe, for the savages had no need to dodge in and out of trees and shrubbery to avoid being seen.

It was a wild and strange scene that met Nat's eyes as he and his escort entered the burned camp. Savages, all attired—or, rather, unattired—like his captors were swarming everywhere.

They capered and danced about the ruins with shrill cries. Evidently they thought they had accomplished an excellent night's work. Here and there Nat noted, with a shudder, some still forms lying huddled and motionless. He knew that these must be the bodies of the victims of the fight which followed when the camp was surprised.

Were Morello and Dayton among them, he wondered, or had they escaped on the schooner the lads had seen standing off down the lake?

In front of one of the burned huts a tall savage stood, leaning on his spear. The fire-light played on his features and it struck Nat that the man had a far more intelligent look than his followers, at any rate those whom he had seen of them.

It soon transpired that this savage was none other than the chief of the tribe, or, at least, a person of authority. Nat was marched straight up to him and an excited colloquy between the chief and the men who had been lying under the canoe at once began. Other tribesmen came up while it was in progress. They gazed curiously at Nat, but offered him no violence. He wondered what would come next. He was not left long in doubt.

The chief gave a wave of his hand and presently Nat was led off once more. This time he was escorted to a grove of bread-fruit trees and then his hands were strapped behind him around one of the trunks. He was a prisoner for the second time that day, and, by a strange fatality, in almost the same place as had been the scene of his first captivity.

"This looks bad," muttered Nat, half aloud, as the savages, having tied him, walked off again, retracing their steps to the looted camp. "Nat Trevor, you'll need all your courage."

To his amazement, the next instant a voice came out of the darkness, evidently not far from him.

"Who is that who speaks of Nat Trevor?"

"Captain Akers!" exclaimed Nat. "How in the world did you get here?"

"Then it is you!" exclaimed the captain. "This is a most extraordinary meeting, Nat. I fear that we have about reached the end of our tether."

"Not by a long shot," chimed in another familiar voice, which Nat recognized with delight as being that of Cal Gifford. "Nat and me has been in as tough places and gotten out—ain't we, Nat?"

"That's right, Cal," was the rejoinder. "But that isn't answering my question. How did you come to be here?"

"Well, you see," said Captain Akers, "when you didn't come back we decided that something serious must be wrong, and me and Cal set out in the other boat to look for you. It didn't take us long to reach the spot where we had last seen you and to discover that all that green stuff on the cliff-face hid an opening.

"We guessed you must have entered it with the boat and pulled through it. Then we headed up the gorge. We soon emerged into that lake yonder, and saw lights in the camp—or what we later discovered was the camp. Drawing the boat up on shore, so as to half conceal her near the bushes, we set out to reconnoiter. We crept through the jungle till we had gotten quite close to the camp, and the first thing we heard was the voice of that rascal Morello talking about how neatly he had trapped you.

"You kin bet we was mad," put in Cal, "but what could we do? While we was figgering out some way to find your place of imprisonment and aid you, the attack on the camp came. We tried to get away, but a party of them niggers came right up on us. I guess that's about all, except that here we are. And now tell us your story."

Nat briefly related what had occurred to them since they left the "Nomad." His recital was received with exclamations of astonishment by both Cal and Captain Akers. Both were likewise much concerned over the predicament that both Ding-dong and Joe must by that time be in. They had no doubt returned to the boat soon after Nat and his captors had left it. The question was, would they paddle off for the "Nomad" or remain where they were in the hope that Nat would return?

Suddenly Cal scattered all meditations on this subject by a sharp exclamation.

"What's the matter?" asked Captain Akers curiously.

"Nuthin' much, only I got my hands free," drawled Cal, in the most unconcerned manner.

CHAPTER XXIII.

NAT'S SKYROCKET ARTILLERY.

"The boat lies off in that direction. We had better make our way to her at top speed."

It was Captain Akers who spoke, fifteen minutes later. In that time Cal had wriggled out of his own bonds and freed the others. Our party now stood in the shadows of the grove, while clearly borne to them came the shouts and yells of the still excited tribesmen.

"Once on board her we can institute a search for Ding-dong and Joe," whispered Nat. "They cannot be so very far off, unless they pulled direct for the gorge."

"Well, let's vamoose then, at once," struck in Cal. "No sense in lingering. Those Kanakas think we are tied too securely to bother with us, but who knows that one of them might take a notion into his ugly head at any minute to come and look at us to make sure."

"That's right," agreed Nat. "Lead the way then, Captain, we will follow."

Without more ado the captain struck off into the undergrowth, his two companions pushing along behind him. But as they plunged from the clearing into the brush, as ill luck would have it, Captain Akers' foot struck one of the savages who had chosen that spot to take a quiet nap.

The fellow leaped to his feet with a yell that rang echoing all about. The next instant Captain Akers' fist crashed into the man's face and he measured his length. But the mischief had been done. Like a pack of hounds in full cry, most of the tribe came rushing toward the spot to ascertain the cause of the outcry.

"Come on. It's a run for life now!" panted the skipper, dashing off.

The others followed as quietly as possible, but still they could not avoid making some noise as they traversed the tangle.

To men as keenly trained in the primitive senses as the savages, it was thus an easy matter to follow them.

"Heaven grant the boat is there or we are lost men," breathed the captain, as they sped along with the savage yells ringing out menacingly behind them. It was indeed, as the captain had said, a run for life.

Before long they emerged from the vegetation and found themselves once more on the lake shore.

Captain Akers gave a groan as he looked about him.

No boat was to be seen.

"We're done for," he gasped desperately.

"Look, what is that dark object up the beach there!" exclaimed Nat.

"Good for you, lad, I believe that is the boat!" exclaimed the captain. "I miscalculated our whereabouts and gave her up for lost. Come on! Sharp's the word."

At top speed they fled along the sandy shore.

But an appalling din behind them told them better than words that they had been seen.

A few minutes now would decide all.

Wh-i-z-z-z-z-z-z!

Something whistled by Nat's ear and sank quivering in the ground just ahead of him.

It was a spear. The boy shuddered as he thought how narrowly the cruel weapon had missed sinking between his shoulder blades.

The next instant they were at the boat's side. But the tide had fallen since she was beached, and to their consternation there was quite a distance to push her before she would be afloat.

But they gritted their teeth and caught hold. As they did so, Nat's hand encountered a box lying by the gunwale of the craft.

"What in the world is that?" he asked.

"Oh," panted Cal, "that's the skyrockets. I brought them with the idea of signaling the others if I found you."

"Hooray!" shouted Nat.

The others gazed at him in astonishment. For an instant they thought his mind had given way under the strain of the past twelve hours.

"What's the matter?" asked Captain Akers.

"The rockets—hooray! We'll use them as weapons against the natives!"

"By hookey, the boy is right!" exclaimed Captain Akers. "I once scared off a band of Patagonians in that way when a ship I commanded ran ashore."

"We'll have to look sharp," said Nat, taking one of the rockets. They were big ones, intended for signaling at sea. The sticks were already fitted.

"Lucky that they will be just as effective skimming over the ground as if they went straight up in the air," exclaimed Nat.

He laid one in the bow of the boat, where it came to a point, and lost no time in applying a match to it.

As the flame blazed up a yell apprised him that the savages, who had been baffled for an instant, had sighted them.

With ferocious, blood-curdling cries, the Polynesians charged on the boat, waving their weapons in hideous significance.

"Yell away," gritted out Cal. "You'll squall louder yet in a minute, my pesky, yaller coyotes."

The first of the savages, a huge, gaunt fellow, was within fifty feet of the boat when the rocket, with a loud "fi-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z!" tore loose. Straight as an arrow it sped, driven by its tail of fire.

The next instant It struck the advancing savage in the breast. With a howl of terror, he fell flat, and the rocket, deflected from its course, went hissing and roaring like a devouring serpent among his followers.

Before they could make a move to avoid the mysterious fiery peril, it exploded with a terrific "bang!"

Brilliantly colored globes of fire spattered from it in all directions. Red, green, and blue. The savages howled with terror and rage and mystification. This was a new method of warfare to them.

"Hooray! we've got 'em going!" shouted Cal, as the savage, whom the rocket had knocked over, scrambled to his feet with surprising agility and sprinted back among his brethren.

"That was shot Number One!" cried Nat, putting another rocket in place and lighting the fuse. Like the other, the second rocket sped straight and true for the massed bodies of the aborigines. Before they could recover from their surprise, it was upon them. Roaring and sputtering like a fiery comet, it sped among their legs, sending sparks and fire all over them. As the brands fell on their naked skins the savages broke into wild yells and cries. Panic reigned in their ranks.

In the light of the bursting star-case of the rocket our party could see black forms darting off into the bush in all directions. The ordeal of fire had proven too much for them. They shouted with fear as they ran helter-skelter in every direction.

Our friends shouted, too, but with far different emotions, as they shoved the boat over the strip of sand between her and the water's edge. In another minute they had her launched and were off. Cal took the oars and saw the light craft flying across the smooth surface of the lake.

Suddenly Nat gave a cry.

"There's a canoe ahead there coming toward us!"

"By George, so there is!" cried Captain Akers. "What if it is the forerunner of a fleet of them?"

But there was no cause for such apprehension, for the craft, in a few seconds more, proved to be none other than the canoe beneath which Nat had surprised the sleeping savages. In it were Joe and Ding-dong. They had been profoundly distressed at Nat's vanishment and their relief when they heard his voice may be imagined.

They had seen the rockets while they were disconsolately paddling about, waiting for daylight to prosecute a search for their companions. Rightly surmising that they were fired by members of the Motor Ranger party, they at once made for that direction. They were little prepared, however for the surprise that awaited them.

The reunited party then all took places in the "Nomad's" boat, towing the canoe astern.

A dull, gray dawn was just breaking as they set out once more for the mouth of the gorge that led to the sea. Rapidly they neared it. But as they did so Nat, who was gazing toward the shore, uttered a sudden cry of consternation. The others, following the direction of his gaze, could see crowds of savages running along the beach.

"What can they be after?" shouted Joe. "They seem to have some object in mind."

"A terrible one, I am afraid," said Nat gravely. He had guessed the meaning of the natives' haste.

"If I'm not mistaken—and I hope I am—they are headed for the gorge. They know we shall have to pass through it to escape."

"Well, what then?"

The question came from Cal, who was not particularly quick-witted, despite all his other good qualities.

"What then?" echoed Nat. "Why, if they get there first, they can hurl rocks or spears down on us and soon put us out of commission."

"What is to be done?" asked Joe, in a dismayed voice.

"We must get to the gorge first."

"It will be a desperate race," put in Captain Akers.

"And one in which the stakes are life or death," was Nat's comment.

The canoe was cut loose so that they could make better progress, and the boat fairly hissed over the water. But the natives of these islands where there are no horses are prodigiously swift runners. They saw, to their dismay, that fast as they rowed the natives ashore were as swift, or perhaps a shade faster.

At last the entrance of the gloomy gorge loomed in front of them. Its sides towered steeply, showing a thin strip of sky at the summit. Through this narrow passage they must pass to win freedom.

The hearts of all beat faster as the boat entered the shadows of the defile. Nat's breath came thickly and his heart beat fast. Joe and Ding-dong showed, too, by their white, set faces, that they felt the strain painfully. Captain Akers sat in the stern with a composed face. He had looked on danger too often to tremble now. Cal was as unconcerned as ever, outwardly, but a certain nervous twitching of his facial muscles showed that even his iron nerve was shaken.

And small wonder. A stone—not a very large one, either—pitched from the top of the defile would inevitably have sunk the boat. The impetus gained in its three-hundred-foot fall would have given it a crushing force twenty times superior to its own weight.

They had rowed perhaps a hundred feet into the defile when Joe, who was gazing up at the sharply defined edges, gave a cry and pointed.

Outlined against the sky far above them was a brown-skinned figure. It was joined by another and another. They gazed down at the boat, gesticulating furiously.

"It's all off," groaned Cal tragically.

"We must keep on going and trust to Providence," decided Captain Akers. "It would mean death anyway if we turned back now."

The boat sped on and presently the figures disappeared. Had they gone to get rocks with which to pelt the boat? This was soon answered. Before ten seconds had passed they were back again. But this time, to the boys' horror, they saw that the natives had a large stone which they were rolling to the edge of the defile. Their evident intention was to drop it on the boat as it passed beneath.

"Pull for your lives!" yelled Captain Akers. "There's one chance in a hundred we may beat them."

The boat shot forward in a desperate spurt.

At the same moment the natives trundled the stone to the edge of the ravine. For one instant it trembled on the lip of the abyss, and then—it fell!

Involuntarily those in the boat crouched as they saw what was coming. But this time, at least, fortune favored our friends, for the big stone missed the boat by a fraction of an inch, the force of its impact with the water sending up great waves from the stern.

Before the savages, who had launched the stone just one fraction of a second too late to annihilate the boat, could recover their wits, the lads were out of harm's way. For the surface at the summit of the cliff was covered with underbrush and the savages, who were the advance guard of the rest, could not hope to keep pace with the boat through it. A shower of spears came after them, striking the water like hail. But not one struck the boat.

Half an hour later the boat traversed the curtain of creepers and emerged upon the surface of the open sea.

"Now for the 'Nomad'!" shouted Joe, as they shoved through the suspended panoply. But his rejoicing was rather premature.

To their dismay, and no less astonishment, no sign of the "Nomad" was to be seen. As far as the eye could reach the sea was empty of life as the desert at noonday.

It was a bitter disappointment and for some time not one of the party could find words to convey the bitterness of his spirits.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE LAST OF THE "NETTIE NELSEN."—CONCLUSION.

But they had little time to brood over their misfortune. Hardly had they made the discovery, in fact, before Captain Akers gave a low exclamation and pointed seaward. At first the boys could see nothing but peculiar, wispy-looking clouds floating near the horizon.

But even in the short time they gazed the clouds became larger.

"Is bad weather coming?" asked Nat uneasily.

"Yes, my lad, it is," was the grave reply. "Those clouds yonder look to me like the forerunners of a typhoon."

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Nat, "and this boat is overloaded as it is. What are we to do?"

"My advice is to skirt along the coast till we find a place to land and then run the boat ashore."

"But the shore may be swarming with savages," objected Nat.

The captain shrugged his shoulders.

"Can't be helped, my lad," he said, "and, after all, we stand a better chance with the savages than we do in this boat in a typhoon."

They could not help admitting that this seemed true. In even a moderate gale the lightly built collapsible craft would not last long. In one of the savage typhoons of Polynesia she would be sunk like a stone.

No time was lost therefore in getting out the oars and starting to pull along the coast. Acting on Captain Akers' recommendation, they kept close in to the shore. But they were not rewarded by the sight of any good landing place. On the contrary, Ohdahmi—like the other islands of the Marquesas Group—rose precipitately from the water, the cliffs towering steeply up from the surface of the sea.

"What is that peculiar looking object over there?" asked Nat suddenly.

He indicated a black thing bobbing about on the water. It was not so very far distant from the boat and they all gazed at it with interest.

"It's a barrel!" exclaimed Captain Akers presently, "and—really this is very curious—it has two smaller barrels attached to each side so as to keep it upright. If it wasn't that bad weather may be on us at any moment, I'd like to look into this thing."

"It certainly looks peculiar," admitted Nat. "Hark!" he broke off suddenly. "I can hear somebody singing!"

Sure enough, there came borne to their ears the sound of a song, intoned in a not over musical voice:

"My bonnie lies over the oc-e-a-n!
    My bonnie lies ov-er the sea!
My bonnie lies ov-er the ocean!
    O-ho-o, bring back my bonnie to me!"

"Where on earth is it coming from?" gasped Nat, glancing about. He half suspected that Ding-dong might be playing a trick. But no, the stuttering lad's face was puzzled as the countenances of the others.

"It's coming from that barrel!"

The words came from Captain Akers.

"Impossible!" cried Nat.

"I'm not so sure about that," struck in Cal. "I've got purty good ears, an' it certainly seems to me that the singing is coming frum that keg."

"Ahoy there!" shouted the captain, determined to put an end to the mystery once and for all. "Who are you in that keg?"

"Ahoy!" came back the answer in ringing tone, though somewhat muffled. "I'm Sam Hinckley, a marooned sailor. Who——"

But Sam got no further. With vigorous strokes the boat was pulled alongside, while the Motor Rangers and their chums shot out volleys of questions. The barrel was quickly secured alongside and the top, after some difficulty, broken in with an oar butt.

The next instant Sam, rather pale and wan looking, but otherwise seemingly not much the worse for his ordeal, emerged from it. As soon as he was somewhat recovered, and the boat once more under way, he related his story. As they had suspected, the placing of Sam in the barrel had been one of Morello's devices and came about in this way.

After Captain Akers and Cal had left the "Nomad" in search of the lads, Sam and Captain Nelsen took watch and watch about, waiting for something to transpire.

Sam was on watch in the early morning when, through the darkness, he saw the dark outline of the schooner—which, it will be recalled, had slipped out of the landlocked lake—heading toward them. Presently she came to anchor and stopped. A boat was lowered and several men, all armed fully, clambered into it.

In the meantime, Sam had summoned Captain Nelsen from his berth. But the veteran mariner was as unable as Sam to devise a means of coping with the situation. His advice was not to resist, which, in the long run, would have been useless, but to cut and run for it. In accordance with this resolve, Sam went below, while Captain Nelsen got up anchor.

The next instant the "Nomad" was moving swiftly through the water, while a howl of rage went up from the baffled occupants of Morello's boat. But, having started his engines, Sam could not resist the temptation to run astern and shake a fist at the rascals. In doing this he had lost his balance, and before he could utter a cry, or even make a sound, he was overboard.

In the meantime, Captain Nelsen, who was at the wheel of the "Nomad," and supposed Sam was still below at his engines, kept right on. When he came to the surface Sam found that the "Nomad" was some distance off and Morello's boat close upon him. The next instant hands reached out for him from the craft and he was dragged on board, and, on his shouting to attract Nelsen's attention, was promptly knocked on the head.

He came to in the cabin of the schooner and here, as Sam said, he got a shock. Bending over him was the form of a man he knew only too well. That of Elias Gooddale.

"But Elias Gooddale is dead in California!" exclaimed Nat.

"True enough," rejoined Sam, "the real one is. But this Gooddale is a spurious one. It is time now that I should tell you what I have been meaning to since we set out on our trip. As you know, I came from the South Sea Islands some years ago. I never told the reason—it was this: When my father, Elias Gooddale, emigrated to these islands from Australia I was only a little fellow.

"But to return to the schooner," he broke off. "This Gooddale, as he calls himself, instantly recognized me and began a long rigmarole about some sapphires. It seems, to make a long story short, that he and Morello whom he met years ago in Mexico had come to some sort of agreement to divide some sapphires. I told them I knew nothing about them." (This was true. While conversant with the main object of the trip, Sam had not been told of the sapphire hoard.) "I also told Gooddale that I wished nothing to say to him; that I knew him to be a scoundrel. I would have said more, but just then that fellow Dayton struck in.

"'Head him up in a keg and chuck him overboard,' he said. 'The fellow is in the way on board and likely to prove a source of trouble if we don't look out.'

"They seemed to hesitate a while and then consulted together. The upshot of it was that I was to be placed in that barrel with some biscuit and water. Holes were pierced in the top and Morello told me I ought to be lucky to get such a chance for my life.

"Then they placed me in the thing, lowered me overside, and set me adrift. I was desperate at first, as you may imagine. But afterward I cooled down and set to work trying to figure out some way out of my scrape. The better to keep up my spirits, I started to sing. A good thing I did, too, or you'd have missed me sure."

"Then you are the son of the real Elias Gooddale?" asked Nat wonderingly, after a pause.

"I am, and I have in my chest the papers to prove it. But I never would take such steps but for the black treachery of my uncle—my mother's brother—for such is the relationship of the false Elias Gooddale to me. His right name is Jonas Meecham. Well, as I said, when we came out here I was only a little fellow. Father took up land on Ohdahmi and soon had a flourishing business on his hands.

"Then one day Jonas Meecham arrived. From what I have been able to gather, father had some secret on his conscience which Jonas Meecham also knew. At any rate, from what I saw as I grew older, I know that Meecham bled him for money constantly.

"Not long after I made this discovery poor mother died. I was then in a terrible position for a youngster, for father was moody and melancholy and Jonas was cruel and crafty and hated me. One day, it was after a trading schooner had called at the islands, father was missing. He left a letter for me, telling me that he had left the island forever, leaving all he had to Jonas and expressing the hope that he would never prosper.

"He had gone to seek a new fortune in California, he said. Well, after he left, Meecham, to avoid complications I suppose, assumed the name of Elias Gooddale. He was brutal and cruel to me, and one night I stowed away on a cocoanut schooner and escaped. I drifted about the islands for some time, learning much of sailoring and boat building. But all the time my goal was California. I longed to find my father. In the meantime, I assumed the name of Hinckley, for, since my uncle took it, my own was hateful to me.

"By the merest chance, as you know, I entered the service of Captain Akers. In that way I learned from you that you knew positively of the death of my father."

"And also that he found the fortune for which he was seeking, but found it too late to do him any good," struck in Nat. "Give me your hand, Sam. If things work out right, you will be a wealthy man."

"Why—what?" stammered Sam, astonished at the lad's enthusiasm.

"I mean what I say," went on Nat, who had not previously told Sam any of the details of their adventures. "We have, by an extraordinary coincidence, been holding in trust for you a fortune."

"A fortune? Where is it?" gasped Sam.

"In the hands of Morello, and——"

"Stand by!" roared Captain Akers. "Here she comes!"

So engrossed had they all been in Sam's narrative that they had not paid any attention to the threatened storm. But now "here she came," as the captain put it, with a vengeance.

A white wall of water rolled toward the boat. It did not seem as if she could live for an instant.

"Head her up into it!" roared Captain Akers sturdily.

His order was obeyed and the boat, overloaded as she was, rode the waves bravely, although she shipped considerable water. Following the first billow, the waves, though high, were not so menacing. But it was without a doubt only a question of time before the boat must be overwhelmed.

"Look!" shouted Nat suddenly. "There's a small bay around that point yonder. Pull for that!"

"Right, my lad. If we're not swamped before we reach it, we can beach her there in safety," decided the captain.

The boat was headed for the bay. On and on she drove, the waves raising her heavenward one minute and the next instant dropping her into a dark abyss of their troughs.

"Hurray! We're almost there!" shouted Nat gleefully as they neared the beach. But there is many a slip 'twixt cup and lip. Hardly had the words left his lips before a mighty wave bore down on the overladen boat. Caught in the avalanche of green water, she sank like a stone. The next instant her occupants were struggling in the surf.

Nat struck out for shore, but before he reached it his strength, already sapped by the adventures of the night and morning, gave out altogether. But just as the undertow caught him and he was being dragged back into the boiling vortex of surf, a strong hand seized him and dragged him to safety.

"Thanks, Sam," choked out the half-drowned boy, recognizing his rescuer. "You saved my life."

"And if all goes well, you have saved me a fortune," retorted Sam briskly. "Some time when we have an opportunity I wish you would tell me the full story of my father's death."

Nat promised. He was glad to see, as he stood on the beach, that all of the party had landed in safely, although they presented a bedraggled, miserable appearance.

Luckily Cal, like a seasoned mountaineer, carried some matches in a waterproof case. He produced these and, collecting driftwood, they soon had a roaring blaze going in the shelter of a cliff and were standing about it drying themselves. It was then that Sam heard from Nat's lips the full narrative of the sapphire find and the strange adventures that had followed thick and fast. Hardly had he concluded before, round the point, there came driving through the storm a craft which they all recognized with a shout as the "Nettie Nelsen."

On she came, fleeing before the storm like some frightened creature.

"My stars!" shouted Captain Akers, as he gazed. "If they don't put their helm up, they'll be on the rocks in another minute!"

"That's right," cried Nat, "but look," he went on, "no wonder they can't handle her. Her mainmast is gone."

"So it is, lad. Gone by the board."

"She's driving straight for those rocks!" cried Cal, indicating a line of low-lying rocks which ran out seaward from the point. The spray was breaking over them in wind-driven clouds. Through the whiteness their black points could be seen sticking up like fangs.

In another moment the schooner was among them. A terrible, rasping, grinding sound ensued as she pounded on the rocky surfaces. A sharp chill ran through the boys as they gazed. In that sea, and in her position, it would have been evident to the veriest landsman that she could not live more than a short time. Even as they gazed the foremast snapped off short and went overside with a terrific crash. Worse still, some figures, which had been clinging to it, vanished with it.

"If we could only help them," breathed Nat. "It is terrible to watch such a scene helplessly."

"Yet we can do nothing," said Captain Akers. "But, look! it is the beginning of the end!"

As he spoke a big gap could be seen to open in the side of the unfortunate schooner. The waves broke over her in clouds and her bowsprit snapped off, dragged by the weight of the foremast, with the report of a gun.

All at once the watchers saw two figures emerge from below and appear on the stern. It was at once evident that they were struggling.

"It's Dayton and Morello!" exclaimed Nat.