“Compose yourself, my man,” soothed the professor. “Be calm and explain what has so alarmed you.”
But the juggler only flung up his arms in a wild gesture toward the sky, and dropped.
“We must call in the others,” said Professor Ravenden.
Helga lifted her head and sent her clear and beautiful call rolling across the hills. At the sound the juggler crawled to her feet and brokenly begged her to keep silence. Before they could win an explantation from him Everard’s tall figure came speeding down the hillside, and only half a minute later Dick’s great bulk toiled up through the ravine. Johnston came in last. No sooner had Dick set eyes on the juggler than he advanced upon him.
“You are our prisoner,” he said. “Professor, is he armed?”
“I have not ascertained. He is suffering from an access of unmanning terror, and I believe is not formidable.”
“Anyway,” said Dick, “we had best—”
He broke off as the juggler drew from his belt one of his huge, broad-bladed knives, which he doubtless had cached on the point before his capture.
“Cover him, professor,” cried Dick.
“Do not tak eet away,” begged the man. “We will need eet. I bring eet, for her.” He turned the dog-like adoration of his eyes upon Helga. “She safe my life; I die for her.”