"Well, you see," said Captain Akers, "when you didn't come back we decided that something serious must be wrong, and me and Cal set out in the other boat to look for you. It didn't take us long to reach the spot where we had last seen you and to discover that all that green stuff on the cliff-face hid an opening.
"We guessed you must have entered it with the boat and pulled through it. Then we headed up the gorge. We soon emerged into that lake yonder, and saw lights in the camp—or what we later discovered was the camp. Drawing the boat up on shore, so as to half conceal her near the bushes, we set out to reconnoiter. We crept through the jungle till we had gotten quite close to the camp, and the first thing we heard was the voice of that rascal Morello talking about how neatly he had trapped you.
"You kin bet we was mad," put in Cal, "but what could we do? While we was figgering out some way to find your place of imprisonment and aid you, the attack on the camp came. We tried to get away, but a party of them niggers came right up on us. I guess that's about all, except that here we are. And now tell us your story."
Nat briefly related what had occurred to them since they left the "Nomad." His recital was received with exclamations of astonishment by both Cal and Captain Akers. Both were likewise much concerned over the predicament that both Ding-dong and Joe must by that time be in. They had no doubt returned to the boat soon after Nat and his captors had left it. The question was, would they paddle off for the "Nomad" or remain where they were in the hope that Nat would return?
Suddenly Cal scattered all meditations on this subject by a sharp exclamation.
"What's the matter?" asked Captain Akers curiously.
"Nuthin' much, only I got my hands free," drawled Cal, in the most unconcerned manner.
CHAPTER XXIII.
NAT'S SKYROCKET ARTILLERY.
"The boat lies off in that direction. We had better make our way to her at top speed."