“Only some creature shucking a cocoanut up there,” she told herself.
The next instant her face was quite serious. “If it were the monkey; if it only could be the jeweled monkey.” Her heart raced.
Directing the ray of light upward she was just in time to catch sight of a pair of small eyes peering down at her. The next instant they were gone.
“It was a monkey!” she told herself with a quick intake of breath. “It was! It was!”
“But then,” she told herself more soberly, “there may be many tame monkeys in the hills who have turned wild. I have heard of three.”
For a long time she kept the light playing upon the fronds of the palm, but all to no purpose. She saw nothing more of the creature who had showered her with cocoanut shucks. At last, as her rebellious eyelids grew heavy, she crept up to a place beside her pal and fell asleep. But even in her sleep she dreamed of palatial halls, soft carpets, gleaming chandeliers and of diamonds worn by black ladies dressed for state.
CHAPTER XX
THE CHEST OF SECRETS
All that night, Curlie Carson plodded doggedly on before his three burros. Had he known of his pal’s safety, he must surely have camped beside the trail and slept. As it was he did not pause for rest.
As the black horde on Curlie’s trail traveled light, with no donkeys to be urged forward, they made hourly gains on the lone plodder. In the beginning Curlie had a start of ten miles. Two hours had not passed before this lead was cut to eight miles. Midnight found them but four miles behind. As dawn broke, had the trail been straight and broad instead of crooked and narrow, they must surely have caught sight of Curlie’s lagging donkeys. And then—
But fate was with the lone traveler. They did not see; they could not know how near they were to the one on whom they hoped to wreak vengeance. And as the sun came out hot on the jungle trail, they began, animal-like, to drop beside the trail to rest.