“You certainly came in the nick of time,” said Jack. “From what I could hear them saying, that scoundrel Broom was actually contemplating torturing us if that check was not signed by Mr. Jukes.”
The millionaire shuddered. His experiences had greatly affected him.
“That young ruffian over yonder,” he nodded his head toward Judson, “was the instigator of the idea to get money out of me, I believe,” he said. “He ought to be punished severely.”
“I didn’t,” whined Judson miserably, “I—I—that fellow Broom did it all.”
“What’s the use of your lying, Judson,” exclaimed Jack, “you met Broom at Bomobori. It’s as plain as day now, and furnished him with an account of as much of our plans as we had confided to you.”
“Well, maybe I did,” mumbled Judson sullenly, “but I didn’t put him up to getting money out of you.”
“Nonsense,” said Captain Sparhawk, “you are as bad as Broom is—worse, in fact, for you are a lad of decent upbringing.”
No more was said to Judson that night, and they retired to catch a few hours sleep, leaving the “carriers” under Salloo on guard. The Malay amused himself by making hideous faces at the unfortunate Donald and flourishing his kriss under his nose. By daylight the wretched prisoner was half dead from fear. Captain Sparhawk sternly warned Salloo not to tease him any more, at which the Malay appeared to be much surprised.
“Him enemy,” he said, “why no can do what like with him?”
Breakfast, of which Donald was given his share, was eaten in the fort, and after that meal the natives were sent down to the river to bring up all the supplies which had been left there. They reported that the prisoner Salloo had made had succeeded, as they intended he should, in loosening his bonds during the night and had vanished.