Trifles seemed magnified at those moments into great matters, and with his nerves strung up to the highest pitch of tension he started, for all at once something moved away by the edge of the forest on his left. But it was only a great butterfly which fluttered over the baking stones, above which the air seemed to quiver, and then, with its brightly-painted wings casting a broad shadow, it crossed the ruined amphitheatre and was gone.
Humphrey Armstrong crept from behind his resting-place right to the shelter of the trees at the edge of the forest, and his spirits rose as he found how easy an evasion seemed to be. He had only to secure the co-operation of half a dozen of his men, take advantage of the listlessness of the buccaneers some such hot day as this, make their way down to the shore, seize a boat, and then coast along till a settlement was reached or a ship seen to take them aboard.
It was very simple, and it seemed easier and easier as he got farther away from the ruins and his prison. On his right the forest was dense, but the buccaneers had cut down and burned numbers of trees so as to keep them back from encroaching farther on the old buildings; and along here among the mossy stumps Humphrey Armstrong crept.
But it was easy—nothing seemed more simple. Already he saw himself round on the other side of the ruins, holding communication with his fellow-prisoners and making plans, when, to his great delight, he found that he had hit upon what was evidently a way to the other side of the ancient ruins; for he suddenly came upon a narrow passage through the dense forest growth, literally a doorway cut in the tangle of creepers and vines that were matted among the trees. It must have been an arduous task, but it had been thoroughly done—the vines having been hewn through, or in places half divided and bent back, to go on interlacing at the sides, with the result that a maze-like path ran in and out among the trees.
The moment he was in this path the glare of the sunny day was exchanged for a dim greenish-hued twilight, which darkened with every step he took. Overhead a pencil of sunshine could be seen from time to time, but rarely, for the mighty forest trees interlaced their branches a hundred and fifty feet above his head, and the air was heavy with the moist odour of vegetable decay.
The forest path had evidently been rarely used of late, for the soft earth showed no imprints, the tender sickly growth of these deep shades had not been crushed; and as Humphrey realised these facts, he glanced back, to see how easily his trail could be followed—each step he had taken being either impressed in the vegetable soil or marked by the crushing down of moss or herb.
The sight of this impelled him to additional effort, so that he might gain some definite information about his people, and perhaps seek them by night, when once he had found the means of communication. In this spirit he was hurrying on when he came suddenly, in one of the darkest paths, upon a figure which barred his way, and it was with the addition of a rage-wrung savage exclamation that he uttered his captor’s name.
There was a dead silence in the dark forest as these two stood face to face, buried, as it were, in a gloomy tunnel. After Humphrey’s impatient ejaculation, drawn from him in his surprise, quite a minute elapsed; and then, half-mockingly, came in a deep, low voice—
“Yes! Commodore Junk!”
Humphrey stood glaring down at the obstacle in his path. He was tall and athletic, and, in spite of his weakness and the tales he had heard of the other’s powers, he felt that he could seize this man, hurl him down, and plant his foot upon his chest; for the buccaneer captain was without weapons, and stood looking up at him with one hand resting upon his hips, the other raised to his beardless face, with a well-shaped, small index finger slightly impressing his rounded cheek.