“It’s Johnny’s!” he said in a low, tense tone. “He has been down there. He—he fell in.”
Pompee nodded.
“Is he down there still?”
Pompee shook his head solemnly.
“Where can he be?”
“How can one say? See!” said the faithful old servant. “The sun is gone. Night comes swiftly. Caught on the top of this place where spirits walk, who can say what may happen to us?”
“Spirits do no harm,” said Dorn. “It is only the living ones. But we will go down.” He led the way.
* * * * * * * *
And what of Johnny? Where was he?
He had accepted the proffered aid. He had climbed the rope ladder. What else was there to do? The native who looked down upon him, who earlier in the night had looked in upon Curlie Carson at his work, might be a villain. What of it? If he had cared to he might have murdered Johnny, then closed up the hole in the fortress roof. That he had not chosen to do so was in his favor.