Suddenly they heard wild, piercing cries coming from the direction of the jungle, savage cries that sounded more like the night call of some jungle beast.
“Hurry!” exclaimed Pedro, looking back. “It’s Joe. He escape!”
Joe and Bud were racing madly toward the beach. In a moment the reason for their panic was seen. Behind the two men came a stream of howling blacks.
“Will Joe hurt you, after we are gone?” asked Terry anxiously.
“Me no afraid!” Pedro answered. “My people, they fight him!”
Bud made for a boat, but one of the natives came up and shoved him aside violently. Joe was struggling with a horde of blacks, and all he could do was to shout furiously to Terry. But Skybird was free from her moorings and the girl started the engine ready for the take-off. She could not hear what Joe was saying, but it was abusive and threatening.
Sending a spurt of water before her, Skybird taxied in a wide sweep to head into the wind. Pedro stood up in his boat and waved a big black hand. There were shouts of farewell from the shore, mingled with threats from Bud and Joe.
As the plane soared over the island, Prim said through the earphones, “You may call those people savages if you want to, but I’ll count them among my very best friends. What’s more, I’m coming back some day to see them.”
Allan took the lead, straight westward. The deep blue water spread beneath them to the horizon. There was hardly a ripple on the mirror-like surface of the sea. The sky was clear and like birds the two planes soared alone in the great blue dome.
Only occasionally Terry looked back in the direction of the island to be sure that Joe Arnold was not in pursuit. She had confidence in Pedro.