The boats were several miles distant, and it would require several hours’ traveling to get to them. But the whites were all overly anxious and made good time.
At last, after passing through a thick grove of palms, they sighted the boats in the distance.
Professor Bigelow came running up at once, a broad smile of thankfulness on his bronzed, scholarly face. He gave the boys a welcome almost as warm as that of Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis. The crew, too, took part in the reception and muttered words of joy at seeing Bob and Joe alive and unharmed. Even the Indians who had previously attempted desertion joined in, outwardly at least.
“But look here, Professor,” said Bob. “We’ve found the savage tribe you were searching for and have brought you the chief.”
“What!”
For answer Bob motioned for the Indian, who was standing several score feet down the path, to come closer. He grudgingly did so, and the professor was taken completely aback in surprise and joy. His eyes opened wide, and it was some time before he could regain his composure.
“How can I ever thank you enough?” he muttered, his eyes on the sober Indian. “We might have searched for days and days and then not found the tribe.”
He turned to the chief and said something that the others did not understand. At once the savage’s face lightened, and he began chattering so rapidly that the professor had to put up a hand for silence.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not that familiar with his language,” laughed the professor. “I think, though, that if he’ll talk slowly I may be able to understand him. Luckily he’s from the same tribe that Otari told about.”