“Not if the sample of knife-throwing they gave me was any sign,” Johnny replied. He was greatly relieved.
“Might as well go back now and join the Professor again in his search,” said Pant. “Hope we can make it snappy, though. That steamer’ll be along any minute now.”
“I’d like to know where those chests are, and what’s in them,” said Johnny.
“So would I.”
Slowly the “Dust Eater” settled down upon the waters of the bay. A few minutes later they were sitting about the fire, making plans for the night’s watch and the morning’s renewal of the search.
“Clouding up. Looks like storm,” said Pant suddenly.
“Hope it doesn’t bring those black boys back to us,” said Johnny, wrinkling his brow.
Before Johnny went to sleep he thought in some wonder of one experience of that day, of the burning of the native canoe. He could not help but connect that up with other incidents: the white fire in the factory and the burning of the automobile in the desert. Had Pant been at the bottom of all these things? If he had been, what strange new power did he possess?
After that he thought for a time of their own problems. Would they ever return to the factory to report the complete success of the new steel and of the dust-burning engines? And would he ever analyze the contents of that vial in the factory laboratory? Of one thing he was certain, and he smiled grimly as he thought of it: they were not likely to be bothered by their ancient enemy, the contortionist, on this desert island.