Think as hard as he would, Tom could find nothing to say.
“We are only three young fellows who got lost in the jungle,” he said, finally, a pleading look in his face as he confronted the sister he dared not name. “The Indians brought us here. We don’t know why!”
She translated by gestures and a few words. The chief looked at the councillors and they in turn consulted the medicine men. Finally one of the medicine men stood up and addressed the chief. After he had finished the chief spoke to the girl and she, in her turn, translated.
“The first man says the doctors told the San Blas Indians they healed by magic and the chief wishes to see some of their magic. But he says that the medicine men say the younger ones are magic doctors too and he had them brought here because one of them showed his magic in the woods.”
Henry stared toward the three chums and then, putting back his head, he laughed: Mort, in his puffy, chuckly voice, joined him.
“That’s a good one!” Henry said. “Tell the chief he can hit me for a punchin’ bag if they know any magic. They’re just kids.”
Margery frowned but as the chief questioned she had to translate. But it was easy to see that her sympathy was with the younger fellows.
“The chief says,” she told them all finally, “he will see which one has magic, and if you both have magic he will see whose magic is the most powerful.”
Suddenly Tom elevated his hand to caress his ear and Nicky and Cliff saw the sign and folded their arms. It was a call for the Mystery Boys’ council. Tom wanted to say something he did not wish to have the other two white men hear: he proposed to ask by their signs and they were ready.