“Yes; we heard it!” exclaimed several of the boys.
“John, John,” the voice repeated, and they detected a scratching on the wall of the fort. John sprang over to the side from which the sound emanated, and saw a figure crouching close to the ground, alongside of the fort.
“I am John; what do you want?”
A hand was held up containing an object, and John caught it, and drew it in. It was something in fabric, and tied with a cord. The darkness was too intense to distinguish its character, but John cut the cord and a leaf fell out.
“Here is some news,” he cried. “Get a light quickly.” One of the matches was produced, and held close to the leaf. The writing could not be distinguished by the momentary gleam, which shot forth, but the signature, “Professor,” caught the eye of Harry, who held the match.
“It is from the Professor,” he exclaimed excitedly, and he jumped up and peered over the top wall, and seeing the object still there, reached down, and recognized a savage, who held up his hand. Harry grasped it, and, calling to the others, said: “Help him in.”
The savage made no resistance, but assisted the others to draw him in. Muro recognized him as one of the Berees, and quickly asked: “Why are you here?”
“I came from the great White Chief.”
“Where is he?”
