Our hero needed no further urging, and soon he and Roger were on their way to the gymnasium, where the senator’s son had, by pure accident, seen Nat Poole packing the things mentioned in his handbag.
As they approached, they saw the money-lender’s son trundle out a bicycle he owned and 195 mount it, swinging his valise over his shoulder by a strap. He looked back to see if he was being observed, but Dave and Roger were on guard and quickly dove out of sight behind some bushes.
“We’ll have to follow on our own wheels,” said Dave.
Their old bicycles were still in the gymnasium. They were not in very good condition, but the tires were air-tight and that was enough. Without delay, they trundled the machines out, and leaping into the saddles, pedaled after Nat.
The course of the money-lender’s son was along the river road, and he followed this for the best part of a mile. Then he branched off on a side-road leading to what were known as the Chester Hills. It was hard work pushing the machine up the hills, but Nat kept at it steadily, and Dave and Roger followed. Strange to say, the money-lender’s son did not once look back after leaving the school. Evidently he was of the opinion that nobody had observed his departure, or, if so, had taken no particular notice of it.
From the top of one of the hills, Nat struck off on another side-road, leading to a little valley. Here was a brook, and at a point where it widened out, a small and really beautiful island. In the center of the island a cabin had been built by some sportsman, and a rustic bridge connected the resort with the shore. 196
Reaching the rustic bridge, Nat dismounted, and with his valise still over his shoulder, walked towards the cabin. As he did this Dave and Roger came quite close and they, too, dismounted, keeping in the shelter of some trees near by.
“Stop! I command you, in the name of the King of Sumatra, to stop!”
The call came from the cabin, and a second later the wild man appeared. He was clad in a blue pair of trousers and over his shoulder was thrown a big red blanket. On his head rested a crown made of a tin pail cut into sharp points.
“I salute you, King of Sumatra!” called out Nat, making a low bow.