He was ready for a good, long sleep. His task of watching was given over for the night to Samatan’s son, who was a member of the native crew. So Johnny did not return to the boat, but was shown to the guest room of the Kennedy cottage where, under a mosquito-bar canopy, with the tropical moon shining through the bamboo lattice, he slept the sleep of the just.
By the next afternoon both he and Mildred were ready for further adventure. Together, they tramped into the jungle.
“If we find more green arrows,” said Mildred, fairly tingling with excitement, “where do you think the trail will lead us?”
“Hard to tell,” said Johnny. “It might take us right to the spot from which the green arrow of light shines out in the night.”
“And then?” she whispered.
“No can tell!” laughed Johnny. “We’ll answer that when the time comes.”
But would they? And what would the answer be?
After hours of searching they decided that, whatever the answer might be, the finding of it must be postponed for another day. Beyond the spot where the trail forked, they could not proceed.
“There’s something queer about these signs of the green arrow,” said Johnny, dropping onto a cushion of moss in the shade. “There is something we don’t know about it all.”
“Yes,” replied the girl, “and we’re going to find out what it is!”