His speedy reappearance solved the riddle. By the queue he grasped a dripping, half-naked native, whom he dragged after him to the beach. It was the lascar.
“Hurrah! he's got him this time,” shouted Don, leaping out upon the sands to lend a hand in landing the prize.
At first the lascar struggled fiercely for liberty; but as Jack was by no means particular to keep his head above water, he soon quieted down, and presently, with Dons assistance, was hauled out on the sands, where he fell on his knees and began whining piteously for mercy.
“Your revolver, Don,” gasped Jack, with a watery side-wink at his friend. “He shall tell us what he knows of the pearls, or die like the dog he is.”
Don placed the revolver in his hand, ready cocked. The lascar grovelled in the sand.
“Sa'b, sa'b!” he whined, “you no shoot, me telling anyting.”
“No doubt you will,” replied Jack significantly, pressing the muzzle of the weapon to his forehead; “but what I want is the truth. Now, then, has old Salambo sold the pearls yet? Come, out with it!”
“He n-n-no selling, sa'b,” stammered the terrified native, shrinking as far away from the pistol as Jack's hold on his queue would permit “Where are they, then? Come, look sharp!”
“He d-d-done hiding in Elephant Rock, s-s-sa'b,” confessed the lascar, apparently on the point of fainting with terror.
“Don! Captain! Do you hear that?” cried Jack, half-turning, in the excitement produced by this disclosure, towards his friends. “He says old Salambo's hid the pearls in the —— ——— Phew!”