"I guess that's the program, colonel," smiled the rascal addressed. "Oh, there's no question about it but that Master Trevor here has proven a very accommodating youth."
The others chuckled loudly at this sally. Nat's blood boiled within him. Joe's cheeks flamed angrily, while Ding-dong looked daggers at the scoundrel. But so far as making reprisals went, the Motor Rangers were as powerless as kittens.
This time Morello undoubtedly would not give them even the shadow of a chance to escape. Their situation appeared well-nigh hopeless to all but Nat.
With every reason to feel despondent—nay, hopeless—the lad determined to keep his eyes open in the rather vain hope that something might turn up which they could seize upon to advantage.
But when they reached the camp, after some half hour of traversing a rough, stony section of the island, thickly strewn with boulders and intergrown with coarse grass and brush, he had to own that the prospects of escape were, to say the least, not at all numerous.
The camp was located in the bottom of a sort of deep dell, leading up from the lake, and was evidently on the edge of a plantation, at least, so the boys judged from the orderly way in which the trees were planted out. As for the camp itself, it consisted of a collection of tents and huts, roughly made from limbs of trees and roofed with branches. But in that mild climate such protection was ample.
To Nat's surprise, as they approached this camp, from among the tents and rough shacks, a strange figure to be met with under the circumstances advanced to meet them. It was the figure of a tall American, in white duck and wearing a broad-brimmed Jippa Jappa hat. His feet were encased in sandals, and about his waist was a red sash. An inky black beard grew about the lower part of his face. Perhaps it was there to hide the cruel and sinister mouth. For the rest he was tall, had a commanding carriage and seemed to be considerably above the social station of the ruffians he was consorting with.
As he came forward, Morello addressed him.
"Ah, Mr. Gooddale, well met. We have brought some visitors with us, as you will see. They are young rascals who are in the pay of the United States government to spy on honest traders in the South Seas."
The amazing effrontery of such a misstatement, for whatever purpose it was uttered, fairly took Nat's breath away. He could say nothing, but stood looking at the newcomer, who, in turn, stared at the boys.