“Bow and arrows?” exclaimed the girl in great surprise.
“It’s really a very strong one,” said the boy. “A regular six foot yew bow. It will drive a steel pointed arrow a full inch into a mahogany tree. Johnny Thompson has been teaching me to use it. I—I’m getting pretty good.”
“Oh,” said Dot.
“Of course,” said Curlie, “we won’t use it to—”
“Of course not,” said Dot, not allowing him to finish. “But bring it. I only wish I could shoot it. Just think of the lost arts there are in the world! When Columbus was Governor of this island every native knew how to shoot with bows and strong ones, too. That was the way they hunted and how they fought their battles.”
“Of course,” said Curlie, “we use them only for sport now. But I’ll take it along.”
CHAPTER XII
CURLIE GETS THEIR GOAT
You have not forgotten the strange plight into which a jeweled monkey, a storm and a strange craft had led Johnny and Doris. They had arrived at night on some strange shore. This must be an island. But what island and how inhabited? Who could say? There were questions enough in their minds but none were asked as Doris and Nieta, in the prow of the strange ship, following Johnny began feeling their way out of the dark little forward cabin into the moonlight.
As they stood upon the gunwale ready to drop silently to the sandy beach, they saw circling to the right and left of them a narrow bay. Back from the beach was a fringe of palms.
The night was still. Only the faintest murmur of wavelets lapping at the sand whispered of the ocean’s age-long unrest.