“Remember the chart readings?”
“Surely. I sketched the place and location for Captain Seaman,” Austin replied.
“But suppose we do not find them, or find they have been killed?” Caldwell’s lips were grim. “If we took that information back to the natives, the women would be slaughtered.”
“I know,” Jim nodded.
“Don’t you think you’d better take word to the settlement? There are little towns around here and someone could get a note through to Captain Seaman—”
“And he’d get killed trying to bring them out! If we dropped a message, some of the natives might get hold of it, and Buddy, we haven’t got a second to go down and find a white man.”
After that they sat silent as the huge machine thundered up over the hills, past villages, white and native, over the ridge or the nearest range, over rushing rivers, and finally in the distance they were sure they saw the Black Woods which stretched for miles wild and desolate, particularly at this time of the year, when a funeral somberness seemed to hover over it and its ancient tragedies. On they sped, and at last Bob pointed toward a high bare clearing and there beyond the ravine arose the great stones of the ancient temple ruin, where they had left Mills. Eagerly the lads scanned the cleared place, then their eyes went over the ruin, but not a sign of a human being did they see in either place. Glancing at the dial clock, Jim spiraled in wide circles which included the two places, while Bob searched vainly for a sign of the professor and his kidnapped band.
“Maybe we guessed wrong,” Jim said tensely.
“Let’s drop down anyway,” Bob proposed.
“Reckon I’d better,” Austin agreed, but his heart was hammering against his ribs and his fingers were so cold he could hardly handle the stick. He shut off the engine, circled and finally they dropped near the opening Lang and his men had forced them to enter. For a moment they waited, then Jim released his safety belt, and prepared to hop out of the cock-pit.