What, then, would happen? Would they be detained there indefinitely, be given the privilege of becoming members of the tribe, of learning the secrets of their ceremonies and initiated into hidden mysteries?
“And in the end perhaps marry the princess,” Johnny chuckled. “Grand little old fairy story, this.”
Strangely enough, at this moment he felt the call of the red lure as never before. As he closed his eyes he could see great trees come crashing down, see little tractors dragging massive logs through the bush, see those logs splash into the water to form a raft to at last go drifting silently down the river. This was to have been his great venture. He was to have tapped a primeval forest of priceless wood. That wood was to have been brought to enrich the world. The richest lady of the land might not disdain to have her boudoir furnished with rich appointments made from this wood. A king or president might be proud to lay his most important documents upon its shiny surface. There was to have come from this success, riches, and a consciousness of fine achievement.
“And I gave it up for what?” he asked himself soberly. “For adventure, for the joy of discovery. And for a pal, a golden-haired girl. The girl; I owe all to her. She gave me back life when it was all but gone. But I was not the only one who chose. She chose as well. Together we chose adventure, discovery. The lure of the unknown beckoned and we came. If we escape will we win renown? Will they say we have added a chapter to the world’s golden store of knowledge? Hardly. We are not great scholars. We cannot bring back a detailed report; don’t know how. We can only say, ‘we have been, we have seen,’ and that is all. And yet, what adventure, what lure of discovery!”
With that he fell asleep.
CHAPTER XVI
PANT SETS A TRAP
The evening following his trip down the river to Daego’s stationary engine, during the twilight hour Pant might have been found in the largest bunk house of the camp. A tropical wilderness seemed a queer place for one to be teaching bayonet practice, yet that was exactly what he was doing. He had learned these tactics in a summer military camp. Now, with five-foot mahogany clubs in lieu of guns and bayonets, his Caribs were being taught to stab and fend, to dodge and swing, and to perform all those tricks that saved many a Yankee boy at Chateau Thierry and Belleau Wood.
Why was he doing this? Had you asked him why, he would perhaps have told you that Johnny had asked him to do it before he went away. Johnny would be coming back. He would expect to have it done. Besides, the big battle was coming some of these days, the fight to a finish with Daego’s men. It was well to be prepared in every way for that fight. Daego’s band still outnumbered them. He might get further reinforcements.
“If only we could reduce their number somehow,” the boy sighed as, stepping from the bunk room into the gathering darkness, he left his men to finish their practice alone.
“We may do it, too,” he chuckled, throwing a glance toward the little shack which had been Johnny’s office, and from which at this moment there came strange noises and a mysterious glow of light.