“Do they come like that when they want to fight?” she asked gripping Sparky’s arm hard.
“Who knows?” was the brief reply.
CHAPTER III
BATTLING A SPY
For a time Sparky and Mary sat in the dark silently watching the torch-lit procession of great canoes. To Mary it was a fascinating and fearsome spectacle.
Suddenly Sparky let out a low exclamation. “Thunderation!”
At that he jumped from the log on which he had been sitting to kick at their half-burned-out campfire until the coals glowed red again. Then, gathering up an armful of dry-as-tinder leaves, he threw them on the coals.
For a space of seconds a column of dense smoke rose straight toward the stars. Then, as the whole mass burst into flames, all about them, the native huts, the airplanes, and the jungle at their backs stood out in bold relief.
“Sparky!” Mary exclaimed, shrinking back. “Why did you do that?”
“I’ll meet any man half way,” was the reply. “That is, anyone but Hitler’s mob and those dirty, little Japs.”