“I know other chiefs,” he said, “and I know they like to take women of other nations for wives. In my own island it is like that. I think if we were only warriors the Faytans would drive us away, or let us take the boats out. That is the only way I can explain the strange manner in which they are acting.”
“You may be right,” I returned, and walked away to think it over.
The third day brought no more incident than the others that preceded it. I had abandoned the idea that the Faytans intended to besiege us until we succumbed to hunger or thirst, and told Joe so. Also I confided to my chum Bry’s theory that they were concocting a plan to get our women. This made Joe look grave and anxious.
When Alfonso joined us, presently, I thought it best to acquaint him with our fears.
“If that is so,” said the boy, “we will see that the women never fall into their hands alive. But I am confident there will be some way of escape open to us before our condition gets desperate.”
“What is your father doing?” I asked, thinking I would like a conference with Señor de Jiminez.
“He is writing a speech to deliver before the Colombian Congress when he becomes president,” replied Alfonso with a smile. “Poor father! He doesn’t know what despair means. I’m sure he has no real conception of our present position.”
“I wish,” said Joe, musingly, as he stared out over the island, “that I could see into that forest yonder. I wonder if it’s full of watching natives, or if they’re all lying snug in the big Pearl City we’ve heard about.”
Alfonso was thoughtful. For awhile he, too, stared at the forest. Then a sudden idea occurred to him, for his face brightened and he laughed aloud.
“Fellows,” said he, “I’ve a notion to go over to that city and see what it looks like. Also, I’ll take a peep into the forest as I pass by.”