“Because,” was the hesitating answer, “they believe that only evil spirits come out of the sky in the night-time.”
Sam remembered of his own arrival and that of his friends, and congratulated himself and them that the savages had not been present to witness the event.
“And they think he came in the machine?” asked Sam.
The prisoner shuddered and covered his face with his hands.
“And now,” demanded Sam, “in order to save your own life, will you tell me what I want to know?”
The old sullen look returned to the eyes of the captive. Perhaps he was thinking of the great reward he might yet receive from his distant employers if he could escape and satisfy them that the boys had perished in the trap set for them. At any rate he refused to answer at that time. In fact his hesitation was a brief one, for while Sam waited, a finger upon the trigger of his automatic, two shots came from the direction of the chamber across the corridor, and the acrid smell of gunpowder came to his nostrils.
The prisoner gasped and opened his lips. It was undoubtedly his belief at that time that all his hopes of making a favorable report to his employers had vanished. The shots, he understood, indicated resistance; perhaps successful resistance.
“Yes,” he said hurriedly, his knees almost giving way under the weight of his shaking body. “Yes, I’ll tell you where your friends are.”
He hesitated and pointed toward the opposite entrance.
“In there!” he cried. “Felix caused them to be thrown to the beasts!”