“I don’t see how we can,” replied Tom. “We were too scared to notice where we went and we haven’t any idea where we drifted with the tide while we slept.”
“That’s dead rotten luck,” commented Rawlins. “But by the Great Horn Spoon we can find ’em if they’re here! This swamp’s not so everlastingly big and a sub can’t hide in a mud puddle. I’ll bet my hat to a hole in a doughnut we find ’em!”
“But who do you suppose that man on the bank was?” asked Tom. “He didn’t look like a ‘red’ or a Russian or a crook. He looked like a real gentleman.”
Mr. Pauling hesitated a moment. “Boys,” he said, lowering his voice, “that was the man that of all men we want. That was the head, the brains, the power of the whole vast organization. The man who has schemed to overturn nations and carry a rave of fire and blood around the world! He is the arch fiend, the greatest criminal, the most coldly cruel and unscrupulous being alive! He is the incarnation of Satan himself!”
The boys’ eyes were round with wonder. “Gosh!” exclaimed Tom. “Gosh!”
“Jehoshaphat!” cried Frank.
CHAPTER XII—SMERNOFF PAYS HIS DEBT
While the boys had been relating the story of their astonishing experience, Sam had been talking with Jules and other members of the village. Now, as some of the women approached bearing trays of food for the strangers, he rose and, accompanied by Jules, walked over to the hut where the boys and the others were seated.
“Ah been havin’ a extended conversationin’ with Mr. Jules,” the Bahaman announced, in his odd stilted manner which invariably amused the boys, “an’ Ah’s fo’med the opinion that th’ info’mation he’s imparted is mos’ highly important an’ wo’thy o’ consideration, Chief.”
“Yes, well, what is it, Sam?” inquired Mr. Pauling as he helped himself to the smoking viands.