“From Lost Valley. The Indians are signaling.”
“Have they discovered our presence?” Bob wanted to know.
“Perhaps,” was the answer. “But it is more likely that the Indians in the valley are signaling to some of their number who have gone outside for food and supplies, which is their custom. Mr. Loftus told me that they generally signal by means of fires made from a peculiar wood, and the gleams from the blazes are thrown up into the air, out of the valley, from highly polished stones.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that explanation,” remarked Bob, with a little shiver. “I was beginning to think they were ghost lights.”
[CHAPTER XXIV]
BUSHES OF DEATH
They watched the strange lights for some time, as the luminous shafts flickered up to the sky and died out. Then, when the last of them had vanished, the adventurers went back to bed.
In the morning various plans were talked over, but the one finally decided on was this:
The airship would be sent over the valley, traversing it along its entire length, but sufficiently high so that the Indians down below—or, for that matter, their white captives—could not discern it. For the rescue party wanted to remain in seclusion.