Three hundred natives, resplendent in bright colored skirts and loin cloths, awaited them. Heading the procession were ten native drummers. The doctor had given his word that for this one day no drummer would be molested by native police or Marines.
Behind the drummers were the ten strongest natives of the tribe. Superb figures they were, too! These were to bear on their shoulders the ‘Rope of Gold’.
“It,” said Johnny, striving in vain to control his emotions, “why, it—it’s like some picture taken from the Bible. The High Priests and the Ark of the Covenant, you know. Makes a fellow feel sort of solemn, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Curlie quietly, “it does.”
The two boys took their appointed place behind the bearers of the golden treasure, then the long march to Terre Plaisance began.
At the very end of the procession, stumping stubbornly along under the urge of native drivers, were Curlie’s three donkeys. On their backs in hampers rode the mysterious mechanical giant who the night before had fought so valiant a battle.
So all through that long, hot tropical day they marched until, just as the sun sank low, they caught the gleam of white chateau and knew that their journey was near its end.
At nine o’clock that night they were assembled in the garden of the beautiful old chateau. They were all there, the entire cast in this little drama of a strange tropical world. Curlie and Johnny, Doris, Dot and Dorn were all there dressed in their best; so, too, was the little doctor and even Johnny’s aged Professor, and the Marine King.
The bronze natives had gone back to their cave, laden with such food as the whites could provide. Old Pompee, Mona and Nieta hovered in the background.
At this time all eyes were turned to Curlie, for, after all, had it not been his mechanical genius that had saved the ‘Rope of Gold’? And how much did they know concerning that unusual mechanical giant who had saved the day for them? Little enough, I assure you.