“It’s queer we have met no women,” Lieutenant Morrison said in his quiet, thoughtful voice, “but of course we go back by the beach road the way we came, and with the guns of the ‘Sitka’ to back us, I can’t believe that even Chief Tuatele would dare attack.”
“Let him attack,” Patterson exclaimed. “We’ve got a hundred rifles and a machine gun. I guess he won’t find us such an awfully easy mark.”
The last boat load of fruit had been sent off to the “Sitka” when the English lieutenant in command of the expedition formed his column for the return march.
“The king of France marched up the hill and then marched down again,” he laughed as he gave the command to set the column in motion.
Lieutenant Tupper was in the lead. The road stretched along the seashore, winding in and out in conforming to the irregularities of the beach.
“I say,” Lieutenant Tupper suddenly exclaimed, “isn’t that road to the left a short cut?” He took out a small pocket chart and consulted it. Then he glanced out to the “Sitka,” which had gotten under way and was following, as before, just beyond the surf on the outer reef. “It will save us nearly a mile, and is shady, all the way, through cocoanut groves.”
His mind was made up without more ado, and the head of the column wheeled to the left away from the sea and their supporting war-ship and took the trail leading through the woods.
“Anybody got any wire cutters?” O’Neil asked Phil, who was walking at his side. “Look, sir, both sides barbed wire. Nasty thing to get through in a hurry.”
Phil saw that on each side of the road ran a substantially built fence of barbed wire as high as a man’s head. The woods here were not very thick. Cocoanut and other trees were plentifully mixed.
They had now reached the top of a rise. The road from there led down and at the bottom a small, swift stream would have to be forded.