Then, with one accord, they went dashing away into the night, in a wild but futile attempt to recapture the goat.
“The goat,” said Dot, rising from among the ferns, “is free. And Mona,” she said quietly, “there was no spell woven about him. The moment his bonds were burned away he ran into the forest.”
“There was no spell,” said Mona.
“There will be no revolution now,” said Dot.
“Not at once,” said Mona. Then as if a new thought had come to her, “There is a great white shadow in the sea at Deception Bay. That is where the ship with rifles is hiding. They had better be careful. The great white shadow—he makes men disappear. They never come back.”
“That,” said Dot to Curlie in a tone so low the aged native woman could not hear, “is another of her wild Voodoo notions.”
They made their way unmolested down the mountainside. In time, after a long march, they entered the sleeping village. Once more, as Curlie’s eyes took in the beauty of it all, the few white chateaux, the many modest homes of the natives, he said with increasing conviction, “It must not be destroyed by a revolution. It must not!”
When they had entered the garden of the chateau, Dot put out a cool hand and gave Curlie a strong handclasp and a good night.
“Now,” she said, in a tone that was deeply serious. “We have had two adventures. Something tells me the third will come very soon. Where there are two there are always three. You will not forget?”
“I will not forget,” said Curlie.