“But I must warn you, gentlemen,” I continued, “that you have to deal with the wiliest and fiercest savage in existence, and if we venture into his dominions again the chances of our ever coming out alive are mighty slim.”
“All right, Sam,” retorted Uncle Naboth, cheerfully; “we’ve got to take those chances, my lad, so what’s the use of grumbling?”
“If you’re afraid, Sam—” began Moit, stiffly.
“Oh, get out!” was my peevish reply. “I may be afraid, and small wonder if I am; but you know very well I’ll go with you. So get your togs on, both of you, and I’ll meet you on deck.”
CHAPTER XIX
WE ATTEMPT A RESCUE
The entire ship’s company was aroused by this time, and it amused me to find that every man jack, down to the commonest sailor, was tremendously indignant and most properly incensed because Nalig-Nad had dared to steal his own daughter—the successor to his throne—from the white men with whom she had fled.
Ned Britton’s plan was to arm our entire company “to the teeth” and march in solid ranks through the forest until we came to the king’s village, which he figured lay about opposite the point where our ship had stranded. Once at the village we could surprise the place, capture Ilalah, and bear her in triumph back to the wreck.
There were several objections to Ned’s optimistic plan. In the first place we did not know the forest, and the Indians did. They could hide behind the trees and pick us off with their arrows before we could use our fire-arms; or they might ambush us, and annihilate our band. Moreover, we were not sure Ilalah had been taken directly to the king’s village. They might have hidden her somewhere else.
“It’s another case of automobile, Mr. Moit,” declared Uncle Naboth. “If we’re a-goin’ to get that girl you’ll have to use the convertible, as sure as fate.”