“Hold off,” Jim snapped, stepping forward quickly, and the hand remained suspended in the air. “Now, listen to me, you fellows, I’ll get your women and children out of the Black Forest, or Woods—”
“They will be dead—none comes out alive—never since the curse of Bloody Dam.”
“Let me tell you something, you men. I was in the Black Woods, I’ve been at the Bloody Dam, my buddy here and I were there the first day the butterflies started their flight, and we came out alive—”
“You lie—”
“I do not lie. We heard the baying of the dogs, saw the fall of the stone wall, the wall on which the ancient prophet stood when he cursed all who entered the Black Woods—”
“You saw and heard?” An old man came close. “Did one of them look into your eyes?” The voice shook and the man’s lips trembled.
“None looked into my eyes, nor my buddy’s eyes,” Jim answered solemnly, “and we came through, past poison snakes, over rotten logs, and now, on the ancient ruin there is a white man into whose eyes the last man of the band gazed. The man is mad, he was digging a hole in the ground when we saw him last.”
“This is true,” Donald added; then he spoke in their own tongue and the natives stared at the two white boys as if they were beings from some other world.
“How can you bring our children back?” one asked and his lips were set in a firm line.
“There is an airplane here. We will go to fetch them. Howard, who is in the boat, where there are more bombs, will stand guard. You must let the white women go to the shore and no man must lay a hand on them until we return. Do you understand?”