Bert Wilson, Wireless Operator

by J. W. Duffield

“How did you get past the sentries?” asked the prisoner.

“Well, we didn’t wait to get their consent, you can bet on that,” returned Bert, “and I don’t think, now that we are here, that they’ll offer any objections to our leaving, either. But now, it’s up to us to get you untied, and make a quick sneak. Somebody’s liable to come snooping around here almost any time, I suppose.”

“You may be sure we can’t leave any too soon to suit me,” said the captive. “I believe, from all that I have been able to gather from their actions, that I was to furnish the material for a meal for the tribe to-morrow. They’re head hunters and cannibals, and the more space I put between them and me the better I shall be pleased.”

While he had been speaking, the boys had been busily engaged in cutting the cords that bound him, and now they assisted him to his feet. He had been bound in one position so long, however, that he could hardly stand at first, and Bert began to fear that he would not be able to move. After a few moments, however, his powers began to come back to him, and in a few minutes he seemed able to walk.

“All right, fellows, I guess we won’t wait to pay our respects to the king,” said Bert. “Let’s get started. Do you feel able to make a dash now?” he inquired, addressing the erstwhile prisoner.

The latter signified that he was, and they prepared to leave without further discussion. When they got outside, they found that they were favored by a great piece of good fortune. The moon was now in such a position that it threw the shadow of a particularly tall tree almost to the hut, and they quickly made for the welcome security it offered. They made as little noise as possible, but their companion was less expert in the ways of the woods than they, and more than once slipped and fell, making a disturbance that the boys felt sure would be heard by someone in the camp.

Fate was kind to them, however, and at last they reached the shelter of the woods without apparently having given the savages any cause for suspicion. Once well in the jungle, they felt justified in making more speed without bothering so much about the noise. After a little trouble they found the trail that they had followed to the camp, and started back toward the coast with the best speed they could muster.

In the dense shadows cast by the arching trees they could hardly see a foot ahead of them, and continually stumbled, tripped, and fell over the roots and creepers in their path.

Their progress became like a horrible nightmare, in which one is unable to make any headway in fleeing from a pursuing danger, no matter how hard one tries. They were haunted by the fear of hearing the yell of the savages in pursuit, for they knew that if they were overtaken, here in the narrow path, in pitch darkness, they would be slaughtered by an unseen enemy without the chance to fight. The experienced savages could come at them from all sides through the forest, and have them at a terrible disadvantage.

“If we can only make that rocky little hill we passed coming to this infernal place, fellows,” panted Bert, “we can stay there till daylight, and at least make a fight for our lives. If they should catch us here now, they could butcher us like rats in a trap.”