“About fifteen or twenty,” the Indian lad answered quietly.
“If we cannot bring them in one load, we can in two,” said Jim, but he kept his fists in his pockets as they went to the shed into which the plane had been run. It took only a few minutes to get her engine warmed up, the Flying Buddies were in the cock-pit, and Jim turned to Donald.
“Is there likely to be more than one passage through the Black Woods?” he asked.
“There is only one. These men say they were climbing most of the way, if that is any help as to direction.”
“Thanks. Don’t give up the ship.”
“Good luck.”
No one waved when the huge airplane lifted off the ground, spiraled over the little group assembled near the water, with their dark-skinned guards standing close by. Bob looked over the side and saw a number of the naked men making their way into the wood to points from which they could give warning if the soldiers or workers connected with the settlement came to help the prisoners. From up in the air the situation looked even more serious than from on the ground, and the Buddies exchanged anxious glances.
“I’m banking on the fact that they were climbing up hill. As I remember it, we went pretty level for a while, then began to descend over a rough route,” said Jim through the speaking tube, for the plane’s equipment was not very modern.
“Hoping they’ll come out on that hill?”
“That’s the idea.”