“There are Hockley’s initials,” said Mark, pointing them out. “J. A. H. don’t stand for Daniel Markel.”
“That’s right they don’t,” came from Andy Hume. “He’s a black sheep sure as you’re born. All this money must belong to Hockley, too,” he added, counting up a quantity of gold and silver amounting to nearly three hundred dollars. The balance of the funds had already been squandered by the man from Baltimore.
Dan Markel raved and even swore at the treatment he received, and in the end he was handcuffed. The watch and money were placed in Mr. Brisbam’s hands for safe keeping, and the prisoner was marched to one of the houses and a guard set, in order that he might not escape.
A little later Mark and Frank set off with the native boatman for the camp on the Orinoco. It was already growing dark, but the native knew the course well, so there was no danger of going astray.
“I see the camp-fire!” cried Frank, when they were yet half a mile off. “How good it looks! Almost like home!”
“I feel as if we had been away an age,” returned Mark. “I can tell you I don’t want to get lost again.”
“You are right, Mark; the very word is enough to give one the shivers.”
As they drew closer they set up a loud shout, which was presently answered by Sam and Darry, who came rushing down to the water’s edge to receive them.
“We had almost given you up,” said Darry. “Where in the world have you been?”
“We’ve been further than we intended to go,” answered Mark. “Where is the professor and the others?”