The ancient walls roared back Hello.
Almost instantly the jar of footsteps grew more distinct.
“Got me the first time.” A thrill of real joy shot through his being. This was followed almost instantly by a great wave of fear. Who was walking up there at the small hours of the night? What was to come of it all?
The first question was answered immediately. Hearing a stir at the top he threw on his flashlight to find himself staring into a familiar face, the face of the native who, but a few hours before, had been swinging on the rope ladder before Curlie’s window.
If any doubt remained in his mind, it was dispelled at once, for without uttering a word, the native began letting down the rope ladder.
“For all the world as if it had been prepared for this very occasion.” Johnny’s heart raced. His brow grew hot, then turned icy cold.
“Well,” he concluded, “the die is cast. There’s nothing now but to climb the ladder.” With that he awaited its coming.
CHAPTER IV
HE WHO WALKS ALONE
Dorn, the young French boy, awoke early on the morning after Johnny’s disappearance. He had fallen asleep in the middle of the night confident that he would find his good American friend sleeping peacefully by his side in the morning. That he was not there alarmed him.
Like most French boys of the better class, Dorn was endowed with a sense of responsibility beyond his years. He awakened Pompee and Curlie Carson and was for starting a search at once, even without breakfast.