“Not likely,” said Pant. “We’re too far off the beaten path of sea travel.”
“All right. C’m’on,” said Johnny, as he led the way out into the open where the camp fire gleamed.
CHAPTER XII
FLYING KNIVES
The two boys approached the strangers with rifles loosely slung under their arms, as if they had just come from hunting. The men about the fire showed no signs of surprise. They did not leap to their feet nor attempt to glide away. They merely turned their heads at the sound of footsteps, then sat there watching as the boys approached.
Pant took the lead. He had lived among men of many climes, and would doubtless be better able to understand these strangers. Reaching the edge of the circle he sat down by the fire, motioning Johnny to do the same.
For several moments the little group sat in silence. Out of the corner of his eyes, Johnny studied the strangers. There were five heavily-built, raw-boned fellows with dark skins and thick lips. They were dressed merely in breech-clouts. There were two small brown boys with the squint eyes of Orientals.
“Couple of Japs and their serfs,” was his mental comment.
Presently one of the Orientals dug from the ashes of the fire two roasted sweet potatoes. These he offered to the guests. After that he supplied each member of his own group in the same manner.
Johnny noticed that there was a little pile of these potatoes on the beach, also two brown hempen sacks full of some commodity. These sacks were tied tightly at the top.
They ate the potatoes with great relish. After that they were given water to drink.