So, beneath the flickering lights and drifting shadows of palms, over ridges, through low depressions where there were no streams, now frightening droves of small wild pigs from their sleep and now sending flocks of brilliant colored cockatoos fluttering away into the bush, they traveled on. There were more pools now. By noon they had passed three. The air was cooler. They were ascending to higher altitudes. Johnny took long, deep breaths and thought how like it was to the air of the Cumberlands in Kentucky. Now and again, through the palm leaves, he caught glimpses of distant scenes.
“Mountains over there to the left,” he said to Jean. “Looks two or three thousand feet high.”
“Johnny,” the girl stopped suddenly in the trail (the others had gone on before), “where are we going?”
“I don’t know. Do you?” Johnny’s face was sober.
“No, I don’t.”
“Want to go back?”
“No—o. But I feel sort of shivery. It’s so strange!”
“Yes, it is. But then, all life is strange, and death is strangest of all. Besides, I guess we’re doing the logical thing. We’re lost in the wilderness. What do men do when they’re lost? Find the nearest human being and ask the way home. That’s what we’re doing. And from the signs, I’d say we were almost there. I saw fresh prints of bare feet beside the last pool.”
“So did I. And Johnny, look!” she held up a short string of small, round beads.
“Green,” he said with a low exclamation. “Green jade!”