Ten minutes later Johnny followed a lean, muscular bronze man down the trail that led away and away over hillside and mountain, down valley, through forest and jungle to the village.
“That native looks like one who cannot grow weary,” the boy told himself. He was to learn in time that this was true and was to feel thankful for his own physical training.
In the meantime, he had abundant food for thought. His mind was full of many wonders. He had left camp at the Citadel without taking leave. What of Dorn and Pompee? What of Curlie? He wondered most about the curious things the little doctor had said. How was the doctor to be of service to him and to the cause he had espoused? How, of all things, could he profit by the death of an old man, the son of the bearer of the Magic Telescope?
After a time he thought again of the golden green serpent hanging from the roof of the cave—or was it a serpent?
Mid-afternoon found him at the distant native village. Having dined while the distilling went forward, he bottled the fluid, and turning his face upward, was prepared to follow his tireless guide back to the cave.
CHAPTER XXII
THE QUEEN’S RUBY
Darkness had fallen as Curlie Carson, still following the trail of his good pal Johnny, and still urging his donkeys forward, approached the mouth of the cave occupied by the bronze natives and the little doctor. Johnny, as you will know, had been gone from that place several hours. He was now well on his way back.
The black horde, had Curlie but known it, was but two hours behind him on the trail. He did not know. All he knew was that his good pal was missing and that he had passed this way.
By great good fortune, the first person he met was the short broad man, the white doctor.
“Johnny?” the little doctor smiled in answer to Curlie’s question. “Sure we had him. We let him go. But he’ll be back; may be here at any time. Sit down and rest.”