By this time Pete Deveaux had retreated to the lower end of the improvised ring. He saw that he was cornered; that he must fight once more. Lunging forward like a trapped rat, he struck a wicked blow for his opponent's head.
Paul parried it, and as swift as a stroke of lightning his right hand streaked out and caught Deveaux under the jaw. The Frenchman reeled backward a few steps, and toppled over, full length upon the ground. What a cry went up from the onlookers! By this time the sympathies of every one, except Deveaux's own comrades, were with the youth. No one, even a half-civilized savage, at heart likes a coward.
For a few moments Pete Deveaux was dazed. But after his cronies had helped him to his feet, and started away with him, he still had enough spite left to shout back, as he shook a fist: "We're not done with you fellows yet!"
Paul was now the recipient of congratulations from all sides. Everybody wished to slap him on the shoulder or shake hands with him, it seemed, and the native populace gave him so many cocoanuts, bananas, and pineapples that he was literally hemmed in with fruit, and John, Bob, and Tom had to open up a pathway before he could get out of his sweet-smelling barricade.
Our flyers put as much of the gifts in the cabin of the Sky-Bird as they could find room for, including an abundance of nuts for the happy Grandpa, and then they turned their attention to the pressing business of overhauling the engines and storing fuel.
While they were thus engaged, the Clarion's motor was heard to start; and a few moments later she arose and took off to sea.
"Humph!" ejaculated Tom, "those fellows have beat us to it again."
"They ought to; didn't they arrive ahead of us?" asked Tom.
"We'll be out of here in fifteen minutes more," stated John.
But the words were no more than out of his mouth when Paul, who had been inspecting the rear end of the machine came dashing excitedly forward, crying: