“Play now!” the girl commanded, turning to Jack.
A louder murmur came from the natives as they settled back in their places and Jack tuned his violin.
Deciding that some simple tunes would suit these people best, the boy played “Turkey in the Straw.” Pleased by their dancing eyes, he did the “Arkansas Traveler,” then “Deep in the Heart of Texas.”
When he swung into “Old Man River,” the natives seemed to sense the meaning of the song, for their faces were somber and sad. But now some one was singing the words.
He listened carefully. It was the girl who sang.
“Sing it all,” he whispered. He started once more at the beginning and she sang with him to the end.
After that he played on and on, wondering, Where did this girl learn that song? She had said, “These people.” Were they not her people? It was mighty strange.
When the fire had burned low and some of the native children were asleep at their mothers’ sides, Jack put his violin away. Then, as if he were in church and had preached a good sermon, the older members of the group came forward for a solemn handshake.
After a few words to the natives, the girl turned to Jack. “I’ll show you a new way back to your camp,” she said in a quiet voice.
A moment later, without a light, she was leading him through the inky blackness of a jungle trail.