The Boy
Fortune Hunters
in Panama

By
FLOYD AKERS

Author of
“The Boy Fortune Hunters in Egypt,” etc.

CHICAGO
THE REILLY & BRITTON CO.
PUBLISHERS

BOYS BOOKS BY FLOYD AKERS

The Boy Fortune Hunters in Alaska
The Boy Fortune Hunters in Panama
The Boy Fortune Hunters in Egypt

Cloth 12 mos. Splendidly Illustrated.

Price 60 cents each.

Copyright 1908
BY
THE REILLY & BRITTON CO.

CONTENTS

Chapter Page [I. I Undertake a Hazardous Voyage] 9 [II. I Ship a Queer Passenger] 22 [III. The Moit Convertible Automobile] 33 [IV. We Come to Grief] 56 [V. Making the Best of It] 71 [VI. The Dead Man’s Story] 84 [VII. The Folly of the Wise] 100 [VIII. The San Blas Country] 116 [IX. Facing the Enemy] 128 [X. Nalig-Nad] 137 [XI. Princess Ilalah] 153 [XII. War is Declared] 170 [XIII. We Look Into Danger’s Eyes] 182 [XIV. We Astonish Our Foes] 195 [XV. We Search for the Valley] 213 [XVI. The Arrow-Maker] 224 [XVII. A Woodland Wonderland] 241 [XVIII. The Princess Disappears] 255 [XIX. We Attempt a Rescue] 265 [XX. Outwitted] 275 [XXI. The Sacrifice] 285 [XXII. The Thrust of a Spear] 293 [XXIII. The Deserter] 299 [XXIV. We Leave Panama] 307

CHAPTER I
I UNDERTAKE A HAZARDOUS VOYAGE

The bark Nebuchadnezar came staggering into Chelsea harbor in a very demoralized condition. Her main and mizzen masts were both gone, the bulwarks were smashed in, the poop swept away, and she leaked so badly that all the short-handed crew were nearly ready to drop from the exhausting labor of working the pumps. For after weathering a dreadful storm in which the captain and mate were washed overboard, together with five of the men, those remaining had been forced to rig up a square-sail on the foremast and by hook or crook to work the dismantled hulk into harbor, and this they did from no love of the ship but as a matter of mere self-preservation, the small boats having all been lost or destroyed.

As soon as they dropped anchor in the harbor they fled from the crippled ship and left her to her fate.

It fortunately happened that an agent of the owners, a man named Harlan, lived at Chelsea and was able to take prompt action to save the company’s property. The Nebuchadnezar was loaded heavily with structural steel work from Birmingham, which had been destined for San Pedro, California, which is the port of entry for the important city of Los Angeles. It was a valuable cargo, and one well worth saving; so Mr. Harlan quickly sent a lot of men aboard to calk the sprung seams and pump her dry, and within twenty-four hours they had her safe from sinking, although she still looked more like a splintered tub than a ship.

And now the agent spent a whole day exchanging telegrams with the chief agents of the Line in New York. It appeared that to unload the heavy structural beams, which were of solid steel, and ship them by rail across the continent would entail a serious loss, the freight rates being enormous for such a distance. There was at the time no other ship procurable to carry the cargo on to its destination. Either the old Nebuchadnezar must be made seaworthy again, and sent on its way around the Horn to San Pedro, or the company was in for a tremendous loss.

Harlan was a man of resource and energy. He promptly informed his superiors that he would undertake to fit the ship for sea, and speedily; so he was given permission to “go ahead.”

New masts were stepped, the damages repaired, and the bark put in as good condition as possible. But even then it was a sad parody on a ship, and the chances of its ever getting to the port of destination were regarded by all observers as extremely doubtful.

Having done the best in his power, however, Mr. Harlan came to my father and said:

“Captain Steele, I want you to take the Nebuchadnezar to San Pedro.”

The Captain smiled, and answered with his usual deliberation:

“Thank you, Mr. Harlan; but I can’t by any possibility get away this winter.”

You see, we were just building our new vessel, the Seagull, which was to be our future pride and joy, and my father did not believe the work could progress properly unless he personally inspected every timber and spike that went into her. Just now the builders were getting along finely and during the coming winter all the interior fittings were to be put in. I knew very well that nothing could induce Captain Steele to leave the Seagull at this fascinating period of its construction.

Mr. Harlan was very grave and anxious, and spoke frankly of the difficulty he was in.

“You see, sir, my reputation is at stake in this venture,” he explained, “and if anything happens to that cargo they will blame me for it. The only way to avoid a heavy loss is to get the old hull into port, and I am aware that to accomplish this task a man of experience and exceptional judgment is required. There is not another captain on the coast that I would so completely and confidently trust with this undertaking as I would you, sir; and we can afford to pay well for the voyage.”

My father appreciated the compliment, but it did not alter his resolve.

“Can’t be done, Mr. Harlan,” he said, pressing the ashes into the bowl of his pipe and looking around the group of intent listeners with a thoughtful expression. “Time was when I’d have liked a job of that sort, because it’s exciting to fight a strong ocean with a weak ship. But my whole heart is in the Seagull, and I can’t an’ won’t leave her.”

Just then his eyes fell upon me and brightened.

“There’s no reason, howsomever,” he added, “why Sam can’t undertake your commission. We won’t be likely to need him this winter, at all.”

Mr. Harlan frowned; then looked toward me curiously.

“Would you really recommend a boy like Sam for such an important undertaking?” he asked.

“Why not, sir?” replied my father. “Sam’s as good a navigator as I am, an’ he’s a brave lad an’ cool-headed, as has been proved. All he lacks is experience in working a ship; but he can take my own mate, Ned Britton, along, and there’s not a better sailing-master to be had on the two oceans.”

The agent began to look interested. He revolved the matter in his mind for a time and then turned to me and asked, abruptly:

“Would you go, sir?”

I had been thinking, too, for the proposition had come with startling suddenness.

“On one condition,” said I.

“What is that?”

“That in case of accident—if, in spite of all our efforts, the old tub goes to the bottom—you will hold me blameless and look as cheerful as possible.”

The agent thought that over for what seemed a long time, considering the fact that he was a man of quick judgment and action. But I will acknowledge it was a grave condition I had required, and the man knew even better than I did that under the most favorable circumstances the result of the voyage was more than doubtful. Finally he nodded.

“I do not know of any one I would rather trust,” said he. “You are only a boy, Sam Steele; but I’ve got your record, and I know Ned Britton. Next to getting Captain Steele himself, the combination is as good as I could hope to secure for my company, and I’m going to close with you at once, condition and all.”

Britton, who was himself present at this conference, shifted uneasily in his chair.

“I ain’t right sure as we can ship a proper crew, sir,” he remarked, eyeing me with the characteristic stare of his round, light blue eyes, which were as unreadable as a bit of glass.

“Well, we can try, Ned,” I answered, with some concern. “I shall take Nux and Bryonia along, of course, and we won’t need over a dozen able seamen.”

I must explain that the Nux and Bryonia mentioned were not homeopathic remedies, but two stout, black South Sea Islanders who bore those absurd names and had already proven their loyalty and devotion to me, although they were the especial retainers of my uncle, Naboth Perkins.

“What became of the crew that brought the ship in?” asked my father.

“Deserted, sir, an’ dug out quick’s scat,” answered Ned.

“Why?”

“Said as nothing but bad luck followed the ship. She were a thirteener, sir, and bound fer to get in trouble.”

“How’s that?”

“Why, I talked with the second mate, who brung the ship in. He said they had sailed from Liverpool on a Friday, the thirteenth o’ the month. There was thirteen aboard; it were the Cap’n’s thirteenth voyage; an’ the Nebuchadnezar, which had thirteen letters in its name—bein’ as how it were mis-spelled by its builders—was thirteen year old to a day. That was bad enough fer a starter, as everybody can guess. Thirteen days out they struck trouble, an’ it clung to ’em as desp’rit as their own barnacles. You couldn’t hire one o’ that crew to go aboard agin, sir, fer love or money.”

This dismal revelation struck a chill to all present, except, perhaps, Mr. Harlan and myself. I am superstitious about some things, I acknowledge, but thirteen has for me always been a number luckier than otherwise. However, I knew very well that sailors are obstinate and fearful; so I turned to the agent and said:

“You must paint out that name Nebuchadnezar and replace it with any other you like. Do it at once, before we attempt to ship a crew. With that accomplished, Ned won’t have much trouble in getting the men he wants.”

“I’ll do it,” replied Mr. Harlan, promptly. “I’ll call her the Gladys H., after my own little daughter. That ought to bring her good luck.”

Ned bobbed his head approvingly. It was evident the idea pleased him and removed his most serious objection to the voyage.

“And now,” continued the agent, “it is only necessary to discuss terms.”

These proved liberal enough, although I must say the money was no factor in deciding me to undertake the voyage. I had been quite fortunate in accumulating a fair share of worldly wealth, and a part of my own snug fortune had gone into our new Seagull, of which I was to be one-third owner.

So it was really a desire to be doing something and an irrepressible spirit of adventure that urged me on; for, as my father said, a struggle with old ocean was always full of surprises, and when we had such frail support as the crippled Nebuchadnezar, the fight was liable to prove interesting.

But that preposterous name was painted out the following day, and before I trod the deck for the first time the bark had been renamed the Gladys H., and was resplendent in fresh paint and new cordage. The old hulk actually looked seaworthy to a superficial observer; but Ned Britton went below and examined her seams carefully and came back shaking his head.

“If the weather holds good and the cargo steady,” he said to me, “we may pull through; but if them big iron beams in the hold ever shifts their position, the whole hull’ll open like a sieve.”

“Don’t whisper that, Ned,” I cautioned him. “We’ve got to take chances.”

He was not the man to recoil at taking chances, so he kept a close mouth and in three days secured all the sailors we needed.

They were a fairly good lot, all experienced and steady, and when I looked them over I was well pleased. One or two who were new to our parts grinned rather disrespectfully when they noted my size and youth; but I paid little attention to that. I was, in reality, a mere boy, and the only wonder is that they consented to sail under my command.

My mate, however, looked every inch the sailor, and won their immediate respect, while my father’s ample reputation as a daring and skillful captain caused the men to be lenient in their judgment of his son.

It was to be a long cruise, for Mr. Harlan had instructed me to skirt the coast the way to Cape Horn, keeping well in to land so that in an emergency I could run the ship ashore and beach her. That would allow us to save the valuable cargo, even if we lost the ship, and that structural steel work was worth a lot of bother, he assured me.

“When you get to the Cape,” said the agent, “take your time and wait for good weather to round it. There’s no hurry, and by the time you arrive there the conditions ought to be the most favorable of the year. Once in the Pacific, continue to hug the coast up to San Pedro, and then telegraph me for further instructions. Of course you know the consignment is to the contracting firm of Wright & Landers, and when you arrive they will attend to the unloading.”

I got my things aboard and found my room very pleasant and of ample size. I took quite a library of books along, for the voyage would surely consume most of the winter. We were liberally provisioned, for the same reason, and our supplies were of excellent quality.

My two black Islanders, Nux and Bryonia, were calmly indifferent to everything except the fact that “Mars’ Sam” was going somewhere and would take them along.

Bry was our cook, and a mighty good one, too. With him in charge of the galley we were sure to enjoy our meals. Nux acted as steward and looked after the officers’ cabins. He was wonderfully active and a tower of strength in time of need. Both men I knew I could depend upon at all times, for they were intelligent, active, and would be faithful to the last.

We arranged to sail with the tide on a Wednesday afternoon, the date being the nineteenth of September. On that eventful morning every preparation was reported complete, and I rowed to the shore for a final conference with the agent and a last farewell to my father.

CHAPTER II
I SHIP A QUEER PASSENGER

The ship-yards were on this side of the harbor, and presented a busy scene; for besides our own beautiful Seagull, whose hull was now nearly complete and so graceful in its lines that it attracted the wondering admiration of every beholder, several other ships were then in the yards in course of construction.

It was in one of the builders’ offices that I met my father and Mr. Harlan, and while we were talking a man came in and touched his cap to us, saying:

“May I speak to Captain Steele?”

He was about thirty years of age, somewhat thin and lank in appearance, and would have been considered tall had he stood erect instead of stooping at the shoulders. His face was fine and sensitive in expression and his eyes were large and gray but dreamy rather than alert. Gray eyes are usually shrewd; I do not remember ever before seeing so abstracted and visionary a look except in brown or black ones. The man’s hair was thick and long and of a light brown—nearly “sandy”—color. He dressed well but carelessly, and was evidently nervous and in a state of suppressed excitement when he accosted us. I noticed that his hands were large and toil-worn, and he clasped and unclasped them constantly as he looked from one to another of our group.

“I am Captain Steele,” said my father.

“Then, sir, I desire to ask a favor,” was the reply.

“State it, my man.”

“I want you to take me and my automobile with you on your voyage to Los Angeles.”

Mr. Harlan laughed, and I could not repress a smile myself.

“Then I’m not the Captain Steele you want,” said my father. “This is the one you must deal with,” pointing his finger in my direction.

The stranger turned, but to my satisfaction seemed in no way surprised or embarrassed by being confronted with a boy.

“It will be a great favor, sir,” he continued, earnestly. “I beg you will grant my request.”

“An automobile!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, sir.”

“Your request is unusual,” I said, in order to decline gracefully, for something about the fellow was strangely appealing. “We are not a passenger ship, but a slow freighter, and we are bound for a long voyage around the Horn.”

“Time does not greatly matter,” he murmured. “Only one thing really matters at all.”

“And that?”

“The expense.”

We stared at him, somewhat perplexed.

“Permit me to explain,” he went on, still gazing at me alone with his beseeching eyes. “I have invented an automobile—not strictly an automobile, it is true; but for want of a better name I will call it that. I have been years experimenting and building it, for it is all the work of my own hands and the child of my exclusive brain. It is now just finished—complete in every part—but I find that I have exhausted nearly every available dollar of my money. In other words, sir, my machine has bankrupted me.”

He paused, and catching a wink from Mr. Harlan I said in an amused tone:

“That is an old story, sir.”

“You doubt it?”

“No; I mean that it is quite natural.”

“Perhaps,” he replied. “You see I had not thought of money; merely of success. But now that at last I have succeeded, I find that I have need of money. My only relative is a rich uncle living at Pasadena, California, who is so eccentric in his disposition that were I to appeal to him for money he would promptly refuse.”

“Most rich men have that same eccentricity,” I observed.

“But he is quite a genius commercially, and if he saw my machine I am confident he would freely furnish the money I require to erect a manufactory and promote its sale. I assure you, gentlemen,” looking vaguely around, “that my machine is remarkable, and an original invention.”

We nodded. There was no object in disputing such a modest statement.

“So I wish to get myself and my automobile to Los Angeles, and at the least possible expense. The railroads demand a large sum for freight and fare, and I have not so much money to pay. By accident I learned that your ship is going to the very port I long to reach, and so I hastened to appeal to you to take me. I have only two hundred dollars in my possession—the last, I grieve to say, of my ample inheritance. If you will carry us for that sum to your destination, I shall indeed be grateful for the kindness.”

Really, I began to feel sorry for the poor fellow.

“But,” said I, “I cannot possibly take you. We sail this afternoon and the hatches are all closed and battened down for the voyage.”

“I do not wish the machine put in the hold,” he answered, with strange eagerness. “All I ask is a spot in which to place it on the deck—anywhere that will be out of your way. I will make it secure, myself, and take every care of it, so that it will cause you no trouble at all.”

“I’m afraid you could not get it to the ship in time.”

“It is already loaded upon a flat-boat, which will take it to the Gladys H. in an hour, once I have your permission.”

I looked at him in astonishment.

“You seem to have considered your request granted in advance,” I remarked, with some asperity.

“Not that, sir; I am not impertinent, believe me. But I enquired about Captain Steele and was told that he is a good man and kind. So, that I might lose no time if I obtained your consent, I had the machine loaded on the flat-boat.”

Mr. Harlan laughed outright. Acting upon a sudden impulse I turned to him and said:

“May I decide as I please in this matter?”

“Of course, Sam,” he replied. “It is your affair, not mine.”

I looked at the stranger again. He was actually trembling with anxious uncertainty.

“Very well,” I announced, “I will take you.”

“For the two hundred dollars?”

“No; I’ll carry you for nothing. You may need that extra money at your journey’s end.”

He took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow, upon which beads of perspiration were standing.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, simply.

“But I must warn you of one thing. The bark is not in what we call A-1 condition. If she happens to go to the bottom instead of San Pedro I won’t be responsible for your precious machine.”

“Very well, sir. I will take as many chances as you do.”

“May I ask your name?”

“Moit, sir; Duncan Moit.”

“Scotch?”

“By ancestry, Captain. American by birth.”

“All right; make haste and get your traps aboard as soon as possible.”

“I will. Thank you, Captain Steele.”

He put on his cap and walked hurriedly away, and when he had gone both Mr. Harlan and my father rallied me on account of my queer “passenger.”

“He looks to me like a crank, Sam,” said the agent. “But it’s your fireworks, not mine.”

“Whatever induced you to take him?” Captain Steele enquired, wonderingly.

“The bare fact that he was so anxious to go,” I replied. “He may be a crank on the automobile question, and certainly it is laughable to think of shipping a machine to Los Angeles on a freighter, around the Horn; but the poor fellow seemed to be a gentleman, and he’s hard up. It appeared to me no more than a Christian act to help him out of his trouble.”

“You may be helping him into trouble, if that confounded cargo of yours takes a notion to shift,” observed my father, with a shake of his grizzled head.

“But it’s not going to shift, sir,” I declared, firmly. “I’m looking for good luck on this voyage, and the chances are I’ll find it.”

The agent slapped me on the shoulder approvingly.

“That’s the way to talk!” he cried. “I’m morally certain, Sam, that you’ll land that cargo at San Pedro in safety. I’m banking on you, anyhow, young man.”

I thanked him for his confidence, and having bade a last good-bye to my father and my employer I walked away with good courage and made toward my boat, which was waiting for me.

Uncle Naboth was waiting, too, for I found his chubby form squatting on the gunwale.

Uncle Naboth’s other name was Mr. Perkins, and he was an important member of the firm of “Steele, Perkins & Steele,” being my dead mother’s only brother and my own staunch friend. I had thought my uncle in New York until now, and had written him a letter of farewell to his address in that city that very morning.

But here he was, smiling serenely at me as I approached.

“What’s this foolishness I hear, Sam?” he demanded, when I had shaken his hand warmly.

“I’m off on a trip around the Horn,” said I, “to carry a cargo of building steel to the Pacific coast in that crippled old bark, yonder.”

His sharp eye followed mine and rested on the ship.

“Anything in it, my lad?”

“Not much except adventure, Uncle. But it will keep me from growing musty until Spring comes and the Seagull is ready for launching. I’m dead tired of loafing around.”

He began to chuckle and cough and choke, but finally controlled himself sufficiently to gasp:

“So’m I, Sam!”

“You?”

“Tired as blazes. New York’s a frost, Sam. Nothin’ doin’ there that’s worth mentionin’. All smug-faced men an’ painted-faced women. No sassiety, more policemen than there is sailors, hair-cuts thirty-five cents an’ two five-cent drinks fer a quarter. I feel like Alladin an’ the Forty Thieves—me bein’ Alladin.”

“But, Uncle, it wasn’t Aladdin that the Forty——”

“Never mind that. Got a spare bunk aboard, Sam?”

I laughed; but there was no use in being surprised at anything Uncle Naboth did.

“I’ve got a whole empty cabin—second mate’s.”

“All right. When do we sail?”

“Three o’clock, Uncle Naboth—sharp.”

“Very good.”

He turned and ambled away toward the town, and, rather thoughtfully, I entered my boat and was rowed out to the Gladys H.

CHAPTER III
THE MOIT CONVERTIBLE AUTOMOBILE

The flat-boat came alongside within the hour. On it was a big object covered with soiled canvas and tied ’round and ’round with cords like a package from the grocer. Beside it stood Moit, motionless until the barge made fast and Ned Britton—who at my request had ordered the windlass made ready—had the tackle lowered to hoist it aboard.

Then the inventor directed his men in a clear-headed, composed way that made the task easy enough. The big bundle appeared not so heavy as it looked, and swung up without much strain on the tackle.

I found a place for it just abaft the forecastle, where it would not interfere with the sailors in working the ship. In a brief space of time Duncan Moit had screwed hooks in the planking and lashed his bulky contrivance so firmly to the deck that no ordinary pitch or roll of the ship could possibly affect its security.

Then he carried his trunk and several packages to his cabin, which I had assigned him next my own, and after that I lost sight of him in the responsible duties of our preparations to hoist anchor.

Luncheon was served while we waited for the tide, but there was as yet no sign of Uncle Naboth. I really did not know whether to expect him or not. He might have changed his mind, I reflected; for unless it was a business matter my uncle and partner was wont to be extremely erratic in his decisions. And he had no business at all to join me on this voyage except, as he had said, that he was tired of the land and wished to relieve his restlessness by a smell of salt water.

He was no sailor at all, nor even a navigator; but he had sailed so many years as supercargo and trader that he was seldom contented for long on land, and like myself he dreaded the long wait until Spring when our beautiful new craft would be ready for her maiden trip.

So for a time I thought it probable that he would come alongside; and then I thought it probable he would not. If he ran across Captain Steele, my father was liable to discourage him from making so long and so useless a voyage when no profit was to be had from it. My case was different, for I was a boy still full of a youthful energy and enthusiasm that needed a safety-valve. Moreover, I was pardonably proud of my new position, being for the first time the captain of a ship in name and authority, although I was forced to acknowledge to myself that Ned Britton was the real captain and that without him I would be very helpless indeed.

Two o’clock came, and then three o’clock; but there was no evidence of Uncle Naboth.

I gave a sigh of regret and unfeigned disappointment then, and nodded to Ned to weigh anchor, for the tide was beginning to turn.

My new men worked cheerily and with a will, and soon the anchor was apeak, our mainsail set and we were standing out to sea on our doubtful attempt to round the Horn and reach the blue waters of the Pacific.

We had left the bay and were standing well out from the coast, when I happened to glance over the rail and notice a small launch coming toward us from the harbor at full speed. They were unable to signal from that distance, but I brought a powerful glass and soon made out the form of Uncle Naboth standing upright in the middle of the little craft and gracefully waving a red handkerchief.

I had Ned luff and lay to, laughing to think how nearly the little uncle had missed us, and before long the launch covered the distance between us and came alongside.

Uncle Naboth was gorgeous in appearance. He was dressed in a vividly checked suit and wore a tourist cap perched jauntily atop his iron-gray locks. His shirt bosom was wonderfully pleated, his shoes of shiney patent-leather, and he wore yellow kid gloves that wrinkled dreadfully. Moreover—the greatest wonder of all, to me—my uncle was smoking a big, fat cigar instead of his accustomed corn-cob pipe, and he had a kodak slung over one shoulder and a marine-glass over the other.

First of all my uncle sent his traps up the side. Then he began a long but calm argument with the crew of the launch, who were greatly excited, and this might have continued indefinitely had not Ned become impatient and yelled a warning that he was about to tack. At this Uncle Naboth thrust some money in the hand of the skipper and leisurely ascended the ladder while a chorus of curses and threats fell upon his unheeding ears.

“Nearly missed you, Sam, didn’t I?” he said, nodding cheerfully as the sails filled and we headed into the breeze again. “Close shave, but no alum or bay-rum.”

“What made you late, Uncle?”

“Had to do a lot to git my outfit ready,” he said, puffing his cigar, smoothing out his gloves and at the same time casting a critical eye over the deck. “First time in my life, nevvy, that I’ve went to sea on a pleasure-trip. No business to look after, no worry, no figgerin’. Jest sailin’ away o’er the deep blue sea with a jolly crew is the life for me. Eh, Sam?”

“Right you are, Uncle. You’re just a passenger, and a mighty welcome one. I’m glad you caught us.”

“Stern chase, but not a long one. What do you s’pose, Sam? I had to pay them pirates in that half-grown steamboat thirty dollars to get me aboard.”

“Thirty dollars!”

“Dreadful, wasn’t it? And then they wanted sixty. Took me for a tourist gent ’cause I looked the part. But I was bound to come, an’ they was onto my anxiousness, so it might be expected as they’d soak me good an’ plenty. Where’d you say you was bound for, Sam?”

“Down the coast, around the Horn, and up the Pacific to San Pedro.”

“Sounds interestin’.”

His bright little eye had been observant.

“What’s aboard, my lad?”

“Steel beams for some new buildings in Los Angeles.”

“Loaded rather heavy, ain’t she?”

“Too heavy, Uncle.”

“H-m-m. Not any too tight, either, I take it. Hull old an’ rotten; plenty o’ paint to cover up the worm-holes.”

“Exactly, sir.”

“Will you make it, Sam?”

“Can’t say, Uncle Naboth. But I’ll try.”

“Cargo insured?”

“No; that’s the worst of it. The owners insure themselves, because the tub won’t pass at Lloyd’s. If we sink it’s a big loss. So we mustn’t sink.”

“Iron won’t float, nevvy.”

“I’m going to hug the coast, mostly. If trouble comes I’ll beach her. You may be in for a long cruise, Uncle.”

He nodded quite pleasantly.

“That’s all right. I take it we’ll manage to get home by Spring, an’ that’s time enough fer us both. But I can see she ain’t a race-hoss, Sam, my boy.”

Indeed, the ship was not behaving at all to suit me. With a favorable breeze and an easy sea the miserable old hulk was sailing more like a water-logged raft than a modern merchantman.

Her sails and cordage were new and beautiful, and her paint spick and span; but I noticed my sailors wagging their heads with disappointment as the Gladys H. labored through the water.

Uncle Naboth chuckled to himself and glanced at me as if he thought it all a good joke, and I the only victim. But I pretended to pay no attention to him. Being, as he expressed it, a “loafin’ land-lubber,” I installed him in the last of the roomy cabins aft, all of which opened into the officers’ mess-room. Ned Britton had the cabin opposite mine, and Mr. Perkins the one opposite to that occupied by Duncan Moit. For my part, I was pleased enough to have such good company on a voyage that promised to be unusually tedious.

Moit had kept well out of our way until everything was snug and ship-shape, and then he came on deck and stood where he could keep a tender eye on his precious machine. I introduced him to Uncle Naboth and the two “passengers” shook hands cordially and were soon conversing together in a friendly manner.

I had decided to take my sailors into my confidence in the very beginning, so I called all hands together and made them a brief speech.

“My lads,” said I, “we need not look forward to a very good voyage, for you have doubtless discovered already that the Gladys H. is not a greyhound. To be honest with you, she’s old and leaky, and none too safe. But she’s got a valuable cargo aboard, that must be safe delivered if we can manage it, and we are all of us well paid to do our duty by the owners. My instructions are to hug the land and make a harbor if bad weather comes. At the worst we can run the ship on the shingle and save the cargo in that way—for the cargo is worth a dozen such tubs. It’s a somewhat risky undertaking, I know, and if any of you don’t like your berths I’ll put you ashore at the first likely place and you can go home again. But if you are willing to stick to me, I’ll take as good care of you as I can, and your money is sure because the Interocean Forwarding Company is back of us and good for every penny. What do you say, my lads?”

They were a good-natured lot, and appreciated my frankness. After a little conference together the boatswain declared they were all content to see the venture to the end and do the best they could under the circumstances. So a mutual understanding was established from the beginning, and before the end came I had cause to be proud of every man aboard.

The weather was warm and pleasant, and as I sat with our passengers and Ned on the deck in the afternoon Uncle Naboth got his eye on the overgrown grocery package and said to Moit:

“What sort of an automobile have you got?”

The man had been dreaming, but he gave a start and his eyes lighted with sudden interest. The abstracted mood disappeared.

“It is one of my own invention, sir,” he replied.

“What do you call it?”

“The Moit Convertible Automobile.”

“Heh? Convertible?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I guess,” said Uncle Naboth, “I’m up agin it. ‘Convertible’ is a word I don’t jest catch the meaning of. Latin’s a little rusty, you know; so long since I went to school.”

“It means,” said Moit, seriously, “that the machine is equally adapted to land and water.”

My uncle stared a little, then looked away and began to whistle softly. Ned Britton sighed and walked to the rail as if to observe our motion. For my part, I had before entertained a suspicion that the poor fellow was not quite right in his mind, so I was not surprised. But he appeared gentlemanly enough, and was quite in earnest; so, fearing he might notice the rather pointed conduct of my uncle and Ned, I made haste to remark with fitting gravity:

“That is a very desirable combination, Mr. Moit, and a great improvement on the ordinary auto.”

“Oh, there is nothing ordinary about the machine, in any way,” he responded, quickly. “Indeed, it is so different from all the other motor vehicles in use that it cannot properly be termed an automobile. Some time I intend to provide an appropriate name for my invention, but until now the machine itself has occupied my every thought.”

“To be sure,” I said, rather vaguely.

“Most automobiles,” began my uncle, lying back in his chair and giving me a preliminary wink, “is only built to go on land, an’ balks whenever they gets near a repair shop. I was tellin’ a feller the other day in New York, who was becalmed in the middle of the street, that if he’d only put a sail on his wagon and wait for a stiff breeze, he could tell all the repair men to go to thunder!”

“But this has nothing to do with Mr. Moit’s invention,” I said, trying not to smile. “Mr. Moit’s automobile is different.”

“As how?” asked my uncle.

Mr. Moit himself undertook to reply.

“In the first place,” said he, his big eyes looking straight through me with an absorbed expression, as if I were invisible, “I do not use the ordinary fuel for locomotion. Gasoline is expensive and dangerous, and needs constant replenishing. Electricity is unreliable, and its storage very bulky. Both these forces are crude and unsatisfactory. My first thought was to obtain a motive power that could be relied upon at all times, that was inexpensive and always available. I found it in compressed air.”

“Oh!” ejaculated Uncle Naboth.

I am sure he knew less about automobiles than I did, for I owned a small machine at home and had driven it some while on shore. But Mr. Perkins prided himself on being familiar with all modern inventions, and what he did not know from personal experience he was apt to imagine he knew.

“Compressed air,” he observed, oracularly, “is what blows the sails of a ship.”

The inventor turned on him a look of wonder.

“This seems to me like a clever idea,” I hastened to say. “But I can’t see exactly, sir, how you manage to use compressed air for such a purpose.”

“I have a storage tank,” Moit answered, “which is constantly replenished by the pumps as fast as the air is exhausted, which of course only occurs while the machine is in action.”

“But you need something to start the engines,” I suggested. “Do you use gasoline for that purpose?”

“No, sir. I have a glycerine explosive which is so condensed that an atom is all that is required to prime the engines. In a little chamber that contains about a pint I can carry enough explosive to last me for a year. And wherever there is air I have power that is perpetual.”

“That’s great!” cried Uncle Naboth, with an enthusiasm so plainly assumed that Ned and I had much ado to keep from laughing outright.

“In other ways,” continued Duncan Moit, “I have made marked improvements upon the ordinary motor car. Will you allow me, gentlemen, to show you my machine, and to explain it to you?”

We were glad enough of this diversion, even Ned Britton, who could not have run a sewing-machine, being curious to examine our crazy passenger’s invention.

Moit at once began to untie the cords and remove the soiled canvas, which consisted of parts of worn-out sails stitched clumsily together. But when this uninviting cover was withdrawn we saw with astonishment a machine of such beauty, completeness and exquisite workmanship that our exclamations of delight were alike spontaneous and genuine.

Moit might be mad, but as a mechanic he was superb, if this was indeed a creation of his own hands.

An automobile? Well, it had four massive wheels with broad rubber tires, a steering gear (of which only the wheel was visible) and a body for the passengers to ride in; but otherwise the world-pervading auto-fiend would not have recognized the thing.

It seemed to be all of metal—a curious metal of a dull silver hue—not painted or polished in any place, but so finely constructed that every joint and fitting appeared perfect. It was graceful of design, too, although the body was shaped like the hull of a boat, with the wheels so placed that the structure was somewhat more elevated from the ground than ordinarily. This body was about a foot in thickness, having an inner and outer surface composed of beautifully rivetted plates of the strange metal.

Moit explained that part of this space was used for vacuum chambers, which were kept exhausted by the pumps when required and made the machine wonderfully light. Also, within what corresponded with the gunwale of a boat, were concealed the parts of the adjustable top, which, when raised into position and hooked together, formed a dome-shaped cover for the entire body. These parts were almost entirely of glass, in which a fine wire netting had been imbedded, so that while the riders could see clearly on all sides, any breakage of the glass was unlikely to occur. In any event it could only crack, as the netting would still hold the broken pieces in place.

The engines were in a front chamber of the body. There were four of them, each no bigger than a gallon jug; but Moit assured us they were capable of developing twenty-five horse-power each, or a total of one hundred horse-power, owing to the wonderful efficiency of the compressed air. All the other machinery was similarly condensed in size and so placed that the operator could reach instantly any part of it.

The entrance was at either side or at the back, as one preferred, but the seats were arranged in a circle around the body, with the exception of the driver’s chair. So roomy was the car that from six to eight passengers could be carried with comfort, or even more in case of emergency.

All of these things were more easily understood by observation than I can hope to explain them with the pen. Perhaps I have omitted to describe them to you as clearly as I should; but I must plead in extenuation a lack of mechanical knowledge. That you will all ride in similar cars some day I have no doubt, and then you will understand all the details that I, a plain sailor, have been forced to ignore because of my ignorance of mechanics.

“But,” said Uncle Naboth, whose eyes were fairly bulging with amazement, “I don’t yet see what drives the blamed thing through water.”

Moit smiled for almost the first time since I had known him, and the smile was one of triumphant pride.

He entered the automobile, touched some buttons, and with a whirring sound a dozen little scoop-shaped flanges sprang from the rim of each wheel. There was no need for farther explanation. We could see at once that in water the four wheels now became paddle-wheels, and their rapid revolution would no doubt drive the machine at a swift pace.

The paddles were cleverly shaped, being made of the same metal employed everywhere in the construction of this astonishing invention, and they stood at just the right angle to obtain the utmost power of propulsion.

“Aluminum?” questioned Mr. Perkins, pointing to the metal.

“No, sir. This is perhaps my most wonderful discovery, and you will pardon me if I say it is a secret which I am unwilling at this time to divulge. But I may tell you that I have found an alloy that is unequalled in the known world for strength, durability and lightness. It weighs a little more than pure aluminum, but has a thousand times its tensile strength. You may test one of these blades, which seem to the eye to be quite delicate and fragile.”

Uncle Naboth leaned over and gingerly tested one of the wheel blades with his thumb and finger. Then he exerted more strength. Finally he put his heel upon it and tried to bend it with the weight of his body. It resisted all efforts with amazing success.

And now the inventor pushed some other buttons, or keys, and the metal blades all receded and became once more a part of the rims of the wheels.

“When we get to San Pedro, gentlemen,” said he, “it will give me pleasure to take you for a ride in my machine, both on land and water. Then you will be sure to appreciate its perfection more fully.”

He began to replace the canvas cover, apologizing as much to his beloved machine as to us for its shabbiness.

“All of my money was consumed by the machine itself,” he explained, “and I was forced to use this cloth to make a cover, which is needed only to protect my invention from prying eyes. The metal will never rust nor corrode.”

“Is this material, this alloy, easy to work?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“It is very difficult,” he returned. “Steel crumbles against it with discouraging readiness, so that my tools were all of the same metal, annealed and hardened. Even these had to be constantly replaced. You must not imagine, sir, that I obtained all of this perfection at the first trial. I have been years experimenting.”

“So I imagine, Mr. Moit.”

“By a fortunate coincidence,” he went on, dreamily, “my money, which I had inherited from my father, lasted me until all the work was complete. I had thought of nothing but my machine, and having at last finished it and made thorough tests to assure myself that it was as nearly perfect as human skill can make it, I awoke to find myself bankrupt and in debt. By selling my tools, my workshop, and everything else I possessed except the machine itself, I managed to pay my indebtedness and have two hundred dollars left. This was not enough to get myself and my car shipped to California by rail; so I was at my wits’ end until you, sir,” turning to me, “kindly came to my rescue.”

During the pause that followed he finished covering up his machine, and then Uncle Naboth asked, bluntly:

“If you are sure the blamed thing will work, why didn’t you run it overland to California? That has been done more’n once, I’m told, and as you use compressed air the expense wouldn’t be a circumstance.”

That had occurred to me too, and I awaited the man’s reply with much curiosity.

“Sir,” he answered, “you must not forget that I have devoted years to this work—years of secret and constant toil—and that my whole heart is involved in the success of my perfected machine. But you can readily understand that I have not dared to patent it, or any of its parts, until all was complete; for an imperfect patent not only fails to protect one, but in this case it would give other designers of automobiles the ideas I had originated. A patent is never a safeguard if it can be improved or stolen. As I have said, when at last my work was finished I had no money with which to obtain patents, of which no less than nineteen are required to protect me.”

“And have you, at this time, no patents at all?” I asked, surprised at such neglect.

He shook his head.

“Not one. There, gentlemen, stands one of the most important mechanical inventions the world has ever known, and its inventor has no protection whatever—as yet. If I attempted to run the machine overland to the Pacific coast, a dozen automobile experts would see it and promptly steal my ideas. Such a risk was too great to run. I must manage to reach my rich and selfish uncle, prove to him how wonderful my invention is, offer him a half interest in it, and so procure the money to protect it and to establish a manufactory. Do you understand now why I have acted in so puzzling a way—puzzling, at least, to one not aware of my dilemma?”

“It is quite clear to me,” I replied, beginning to think my passenger was not mad, after all. “But have you not been foolish to confide all this to us?”

He smiled pleasantly, and the smile made his face really attractive.

“I am not especially stupid, believe me,” said he, “and I am a fair judge of human nature. You will pardon me if I say that not a man on this ship is at all dangerous to me.”

“How is that?” I asked, slightly discomfitted.

“No man among you is competent to steal my invention,” he asserted, coolly, “even if you were disposed to do so, which I doubt. It would require a dishonest person who is a mechanical expert, and while there are many such between Chelsea and California, I am sure there is none on this ship who would wrong me, even if he possessed the power. I feel entirely secure, gentlemen, in your company.”

This was diplomatic, at least, for we were naturally pleased at the tribute to our good faith, even if inclined to resent the disparagement of our mechanical genius. However, we regarded Duncan Moit in a more friendly light and with vastly increased respect from that time forth.

It was growing dark by this time, and presently Nux announced that dinner was served. So we repaired to the mess cabin, and while testing Bryonia’s superb talents as a cook beguiled the hour by canvassing the future possibilities of the Moit Convertible Automobile.

CHAPTER IV
WE COME TO GRIEF

Fortune seemed to favor the voyage of the Gladys H. All the way to Hatteras the weather was delightful and the breeze fresh and constant. There was not a moment when the sails were not bulging to some extent and in spite of the old ship’s labored motion we made excellent time.

However, I followed my instructions, keeping well in toward the coast, and so crept steadily down to Key West.

Here an important proposition confronted us: whether to enter the Gulf of Mexico and follow its great circle near to the shore—a method that would require weeks—or run across to Cuba and then attempt the passage of the Caribbean by the short cut to Colon or Porto Bella. We had canvassed this alternative before I left harbor; but Mr. Harlan had maintained that I must decide the question for myself, being guided by the actions of the bark and the condition of the weather.

Both these requirements seemed favorable for the short cut. The ship had behaved so far much better than I had expected, and the good weather seemed likely to hold for some time longer.

So after a conference with Ned Britton—for Uncle Naboth refused to “mix up in the business” or even to offer an opinion—I decided to take the chances and follow the shortest route. After reaching Colon I would keep close to land way down to the Horn.

So we stood out to sea, made Cuba easily, and skirted its western point to the Isles de Pinos. Still the skies were clear and the breeze favorable, and with good courage we headed south in a bee-line for Colon.

And now we were in the Caribbean, that famous sea whose very name breathes romance. It recalls to us the earliest explorers, the gold seekers and buccaneers, the fact that scarce an inch of its rippling surface is unable to boast some tragedy or adventure in the days of the Spanish Main, when ships of all nations thronged the waters of the West Indies.

For three whole days luck was our bedfellow; then, as Uncle Naboth drily remarked, it “went a fishin’” and left us to take care of ourselves.

With gentle sighs our hitherto faithful breeze deserted us and our sails flapped idly for a time and then lay still, while the ship floated upon a sheet of brilliant blue glass, the tropic sun beat fiercely down upon us, and all signs of life and animation came to an end.

No sailor is partial to calms. A gale he fights with a sense of elation and a resolve to conquer; a favoring breeze he considers his right; but a glassy sea and listless, drooping sails are his especial horror. Nevertheless, he is accustomed to endure this tedium and has learned by long experience how best to enliven such depressing periods.

Our men found they possessed a violinist—not an unskilled fiddler by any means—and to his accompanying strains they sang and danced like so many happy children.

Uncle Naboth and Ned Britton played endless games of penocle under the deck awning and I brought out my favorite books and stretched myself in a reclining chair to enjoy them.

Duncan Moit paced deliberately up and down for the first two days, engrossed in his own musings; then he decided to go over his machine and give it a careful examination. He removed the cover, started his engines, and let them perform for the amusement of the amazed sailors, who formed a curious but respectful group around him.

Finally they cleared a space on the deck and Moit removed the guy-ropes that anchored his invention and ran his auto slowly up and down, to the undisguised delight of the men. He would allow six or eight to enter the car and ride—sixteen feet forward, around the mainmast, and sixteen feet back again—and it was laughable to watch the gravity of their faces as they held fast to the edge, bravely resolving to endure the dangers of this wonderful mode of locomotion. Not one had ever ridden in an automobile before, and although Moit merely allowed it to crawl over its confined course, the ride was a strange and fascinating experience to them.

I must allow that the performances of this clever machine astonished me. The inventor was able to start it from his seat, by means of a simple lever, and it was always under perfect control. The engines worked so noiselessly that you had to put your ear close in order to hear them at all, and the perfection of the workmanship could not fail to arouse my intense admiration.

“If this new metal is so durable as you claim,” I said to Moit, “the machine ought to last for many years.”

“My claim is that it is practically indestructible,” he answered, in a tone of conviction.

“But you have still the tire problem,” I remarked. “A puncture will put you out of business as quickly as it would any other machine.”

“A puncture!” he exclaimed. “Why, these tires cannot puncture, sir.”

“Why not?”

“They are not inflated.”

“What then?”

“It is another of my inventions, Mr. Steele. Inside each casing is a mass of sponge-rubber, of a peculiarly resilient and vigorous character. And within the casing itself is embedded a net of steel wire, which will not allow the vulcanized rubber to be cut to any depth. The result is an excellent tire that cannot be punctured and has great permanency.”

“You do not seem to have overlooked any important point,” I observed, admiringly.

“Ah, that is the one thing that now occupies my mind,” he responded, quickly. “That is why I have been testing the machine today, even in the limited way that is alone possible. I am haunted by the constant fear that I have over-looked some important point, which another might discover.”

“And have you found such a thing?”

“No; to all appearances the device is perfect. But who can tell what may yet develop?”

“Not I,” with a smile; “you have discounted my mechanical skill already. To my mind the invention seems in every way admirable, Mr. Moit.”

For nine days we lay becalmed, with cloudless skies above and a tranquil sea around us. During the day we rested drowsily in the oppressive heat, but the nights were always cooler and myriads of brilliant stars made it nearly as light as day. Ned had taken in every yard of canvas except a square sail which he rigged forward, and he took the added precaution to lash every movable thing firmly to its place.

“After this, we’ve got to expect ugly weather,” he announced; and as he knew the Caribbean well this preparation somewhat dismayed me. I began to wish we had entered the Gulf of Mexico and made the roundabout trip; but it was too late for regrets now, and we must make the best of our present outlook.

Personally I descended into the hold and examined with care the seams, finding that the calking had held securely so far and that we were as right and tight as when we had first sailed. But even this assurance was not especially encouraging, for we had met with no weather that a canoe might not have lived through without shipping more than a few drops of sea.

The ninth day was insufferably hot, and the evening brought no relief. Ned Britton’s face looked grave and worried, and I overheard him advising Duncan Moit to add several more anchor ropes to those that secured his machine.

We awaited the change in the weather anxiously enough, and toward midnight the stars began to be blotted out until shortly a black pall overhung the ship. The air seemed vibrant and full of an electric feel that drew heavily upon one’s nerves; but so far there had been no breath of wind.

At last, when it seemed we could wait no longer, a distant murmur was heard, drawing ever nearer and louder until its roar smote our ears like a discharge of artillery. The ship began to roll restlessly, and then the gale and the waves broke upon us at the same instant and with full force.

Heavily weighted and lazy as the bark was, she failed to rise to the first big wave, which washed over her with such resistless power that it would have swept every living soul away had we not clung desperately to the rigging. It seemed to me that I was immersed in a wild, seething flood for several minutes; but they must have been seconds, instead, for presently the water was gone and the wind endeavoring to tear me from my hold.

The square sail held, by good luck, and the ship began to stagger onward, bowing her head deep and submitting to constant floods that washed her from end to end. There was not much that could be done to ease her, and the fervid excitement of those first hours kept us all looking after our personal safety. Along we went, scudding before the gale, which maintained its intensity unabated and fortunately drove us along the very course we had mapped out.

The morning relieved the gloom, but did not lessen the force of the storm. The waves were rolling pretty high, and all faces were serious or fearful, according to the disposition of their owners. In our old Saracen, or even the Flipper, I would not have minded the blow or the sea, but here was a craft of a different sort, and I did not know how she might stand such dreadful weather.

I got Ned into the cabin, where we stood like a couple of drenched rats and discussed the situation. On deck our voices could not be heard.

“Are the small boats ready to launch?” I asked.

“All ready, sir; but I doubt if they’d live long,” he replied. “However, this ’ere old hulk seems to be doin’ pretty decent. She lies low, bein’ so heavy loaded, an’ lets the waves break over her. That saves her a good deal of strain, Sam. If she don’t spring a-leak an’ the cargo holds steady, we’ll get through all right.”

“Tried the pumps?”

“Yes; only bilge, so far.”

“Very good. How long will the gale last?”

“Days, perhaps, in these waters. There’s no rule to go by, as I knows of. It’ll just blow till it blows itself out.”

He went on deck again, keeping an eye always on the ship and trying to carry just enough canvas to hold her steady.

Duncan Moit and Uncle Naboth kept to the cabin and were equally unconcerned. The latter was an old voyager and realized that it was best to be philosophical; the former had never been at sea before and had no idea of our danger.

On the third morning of this wild and persistent tempest the boatswain came to where Ned and I clung to the rigging and said:

“She’s leaking, sir.”

“Badly?”

“Pretty bad, sir.”

“Get the pumps manned, Ned,” said I; “I’ll go below and investigate.”

I crawled into the hold through the forecastle cubby, as we dared not remove the hatches. I took along a sailor to carry the lantern, and we were not long in making the discovery that the Gladys H. was leaking like a sieve. Several of the seams that Mr. Harlan had caused to be calked so carefully had reopened and the water was spurting through in a dozen streams.

I got back to my cabin and made a careful examination of the chart. According to my calculations we could not be far from the coast of Panama. If I was right, another six hours would bring us to the shore; but I was not sure of my reckoning since that fearful gale had struck us. So the question whether or no the ship could live six hours longer worried me considerably, for the pumps were of limited capacity and the water was gaining on us every minute.

I told Uncle Naboth our difficulty, and Duncan Moit, who stood by, listened to my story with lively interest.

“Will you try to beach her, Sam?” enquired my uncle, with his usual calmness.

“Of course, sir, if we manage to float long enough to reach the land. That is the best I can hope for now. By good luck the coast of Panama is low and marshy, and if we can drive the tub aground there the cargo may be saved to the owners.”

“Ain’t much of a country to land in, Sam; is it?”

“Not a very lovely place, Uncle, I’m told.”

“It’s where they’re diggin’ the canal, ain’t it?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, we may get a chance to see the ditch. This ’ere travellin’ is full of surprises, Mr. Moit. I never thought to ’a’ brung a guide book o’ Panama, or we could tell exactly where they make the hats.”

The inventor appeared ill at ease. I could understand the man’s disappointment and anxiety well enough. To beach his beloved machine on a semi-barbarous, tropical shore was not what he had anticipated, and I had time to feel sorry for him while thinking upon my own troubles.

He followed me on deck, presently, and I saw him take a good look at the sea and shake his head despondently. The Convertible Automobile might work in ordinary water, but it was not intended for such mammoth waves as these.

Then he watched the men at the pumps. They worked with a will, but in that cheerless way peculiar to sailors when they are forced to undertake this desperate duty. The ocean was pushing in and they were trying to keep it out; and such a pitiful struggle usually results in favor of the ocean.

Suddenly Moit conceived a brilliant idea. He asked for a length of hose, and when it was brought he threw off the covering of his machine and succeeded in attaching the hose to his engines. The other end we dropped into the hold, and presently, despite the lurching and plunging of the ship, the engines started and a stream the full size of the hose was sucked up and sent flowing into the scruppers. It really did better work than the ship’s pumps, and I am now positive that this clever arrangement was all that enabled us to float until we made the coast.

In the afternoon, while the gale seemed to redouble its force, we sighted land—low, murky and uninteresting, but nevertheless land—and made directly for it.

Darkness came upon us swiftly, but we held our course, still pumping for dear life and awaiting with tense nerves the moment of impact.

What this shore, of which we had caught a glimpse, might be like I did not know, more than that it was reported low and sandy at the ocean’s edge and marshy in the interior. There were a few rocky islands at the south of the isthmus, and there might be rocks or breakers at any point, for all we knew. If the ship struck one of these we were surely doomed.

On and on we flew, with blackness all round us, until on a sudden the bow raised and our speed slackened so abruptly that we were all thrown prostrate upon the deck. The mainmast snapped and fell with a deafening crash, and slowly the ship rolled to starboard until the deck stood at a sharp angle, and trembled a few brief moments, and then lay still.

The voyage of the Gladys H. was at an end.

CHAPTER V
MAKING THE BEST OF IT

“Are you there, Sam?”

“Yes, Ned.”

“Safe and sound?”

“I think so.”

Overhead the wind still whistled, but more moderately; around me I could hear the men stirring, with an occasional groan. We had come from the tempest-tossed seas into a place of comparative quiet, which just now was darker than the pocket of Erebus.

I found the after cabin and slid down the steps, which inclined sidewise. Inside, however, the hanging lamps had withstood the shock and still cast a dim light over the room. I found Uncle Naboth reclining upon a bench with his feet braced against the table, while he puffed away complacently at one of his enormous cigars.

“Stopped at a way station, Sam?” he enquired.

“So it appears, Uncle.”

“Any damage?”

“Can’t tell, yet. Were you hurt?”

He exhibited a great lump on his forehead, but smiled sweetly.

“You should ’a’ seen me dive under the table, Sam. It were a reg’lar circus, with me the chief acrobat. Where are we?”

“I’m going to find out.”

I unhooked both the lanterns and started up the companion-way with them. Rather than remain in the dark Uncle brought himself and his cigar after me.

I gave Ned one of the lights and we began to look about us. Duncan Moit lay unconscious beside his machine, the engines of which were still running smoothly. I threw back the lever and stopped them, and then a couple of seamen carried the inventor into the cabin. Black Nux had lighted another lantern, and with my uncle’s assistance undertook to do what he could to restore the injured man.

Ned and I slid aft and found the stern still washed by a succession of waves that dashed over it. Walking the deck was difficult because the ship listed from stem to stern and from port to starboard. Her bow was high and dry on a sand-bar—or such I imagined it to be—but it was only after I had swung a lantern up a halyard of the foremast, so that its dim rays would illumine the largest possible area, that I discovered we had plunged straight into a deep inlet of the coast. On one side of us appeared to be a rank growth of tangled shrubs or underbrush; on the other was the outline of a forest. Ahead was clear water, but its shallow depth had prevented our proceeding farther inland.

Either the gale had lessened perceptibly or we did not feel it so keenly in our sheltered position. An examination of the men showed that one of them had broken an arm and several others were badly bruised; but there were no serious casualties.

The ship was now without any motion whatever, being fast on the bottom of the inlet. The breakers that curled over the stern did her no damage, and these seemed to be gradually lessening in force.

Ned sent his tired men to their bunks and with the assistance of Bryonia, who was almost as skillful in surgery as in cooking, prepared to set the broken arm and attend to those who were the most bruised.

I went to the cabin again, and found that Uncle Naboth and Nux had been successful in restoring Duncan Moit, who was sitting up and looking around him with a dazed expression. I saw he was not much hurt, the fall having merely stunned him for the time being.

“The machine—the machine!” he was muttering, anxiously.

“It’s all right, sir,” I assured him. “I shut down the engines, and she seems to have weathered the shock in good shape.”

He seemed relieved by this report, and passed his hand across his brow as if to clear his brain.

“Where are we?” was his next query.

“No one knows, sir. But we are landed high and dry, and I’m almost sure it is some part of the coast of Panama. To-morrow morning we can determine our location more accurately. But now, Mr. Moit, I recommend that you tumble into your bunk and get all the rest you can before daybreak.”

The strain of the last few days had been severe upon all of us, and now that the demand for work or vigilance was removed we found that our strength had been overtaxed. I left Ned to set a watch, and sought my own bed, on which I stretched myself to fall asleep in half a minute.

“Wake up, Mars’ Sam,” said Nux, shaking me. “Breakfas’ ready, seh.”

I rubbed my eyes and sat up. The sun was streaming through the cabin window, which was on the port side. Around me was a peculiar silence which contrasted strongly with the turmoil that had so long buffeted my ears. The gale had passed on and left us to count the mischief it had caused.

“What time is it, Nux?”

“Eight o’clock, Mars’ Sam.”

I sprang up, now fully conscious of the night’s tragedy, which sleep had for a time driven from my mind. Nux stood with my basin and towel and his calmness encouraged me to bathe before I went on deck.

In the mess-cabin I found that the table legs had been propped up with boxes to hold it level, and that a hot breakfast had been prepared and was now steaming on the table. Around the board were gathered Ned Britton, Uncle Naboth and Duncan Moit, all busily engaged in eating. They greeted me cheerfully and bade me sit down and join them.

“How is everything, Ned?” I enquired, anxiously.

“Bad as can be, an’ right as a trivet, Sam,” he replied. “The Gladys H.’ll never float again. Her bottom’s all smashed in, an’ she’s fast in the mud till she goes to pieces an’ makes kindlin’-wood for the Injuns.”

“Then the cargo is safe, for the present?”

“To be sure. It can’t get lost, ’cause it’s a chunk o’ steel, and the ship’s planks’ll hold it in place for a long time. It’ll get good and soaked, but I’ve noticed it’s all painted to keep it from rustin’. This ain’t San Pedro, whatever else it is, and the voyage has miscarried a bit; but them beams is a good deal better off here than at the bottom o’ the sea, so I take it we’ve done the best we could by the owners.”

I sat down and took the coffee Nux poured for me.

“How about the crew?” I asked. “Are the men all right?”

“No body hurt but Dick Lombard, and his arm’ll mend nicely.”

“Have you any idea where we are, Ned?”

“Stuck in a river, somewhere. Wild country all around us, but I guess we can find a way out. Lots o’ provisions and a good climate. We may say as we’re in luck, Sam.”

I shook my head dismally. It did not appear to me that luck had especially favored us. To be sure, we might have gone to the bottom of the Caribbean in the gale; but it struck me we had landed the cargo in an awkward place for the owners as well as for ourselves. Mr. Harlan would have done better had he not taken the long chance of our making the voyage to San Pedro successfully.

“Well, I cannot see that we have failed in our duty, in any way,” I remarked, as cheerfully as I could, “so we may as well make the best of it.”

“This bein’ a tourist, an’ travellin’ fer pleasure,” said Uncle Naboth, “is more fun than a kickin’ mule. Sam’s got to worry, ’cause he’s paid fer it; but we passengers can look on an’ enjoy ourselves. Eh, Mr. Moit?”

“It is a serious situation for me,” replied the inventor. “Think of it, gentlemen! The most wonderful piece of mechanism the world has yet known is stranded in a wilderness, far from civilization.”

“That is your own fault,” remarked Ned, bluntly.

“Not that, sir; it is fate.”

“The machine is all right,” said I. “You will have no trouble to save it.”

“As for that, I must, of course, make the best of the adverse circumstances that have overtaken me,” he replied, with more composure than I had expected. “It is not my nature to be easily discouraged, else I could never have accomplished what I have in the perfection of any inventions. My greatest regret, at this moment, is that the world will be deprived, for a longer period than I had intended, of the benefits of my Convertible Automobile.”

“Having never known its excellent qualities, sir, the world can wait,” asserted Uncle Naboth, philosophically. I have noticed one can be quite philosophical over another’s difficulties.

Having hurried through my breakfast, which our faithful Bryonia had prepared most excellently in spite of the fact that his galley was at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees, I went on deck to obtain for the first time a clear view of our surroundings.

The tide had changed and the wind fallen. We lay in the center of a placid river—high and dry, as Ned had said—with the current gently rippling against our bow. Not more than ten yards to the right was a low, marshy bank covered with scrub underbrush of a tropical character. On our left, however, and some fifty yards distant, lay a well defined bank marking the edge of the stately forest which I had observed the night before. The woodland gradually sloped upward from the river, and above it, far to the south, a formidable range of mountains was visible.

Between us and this left bank the water seemed a fair depth, but it was quite shallow on our right. It seemed wonderful that any gale could have sent so big a ship so far up the river; but I remembered that the billows had followed us in, and doubtless their power alone had urged us forward.

Here we were, anyway, and here the Gladys H. must remain until demolished by time, tide or human endeavor.

For the rest, the air was warm and pleasant, with a blue sky overhead. Aside from the loss that would follow the salvage of the valuable cargo we had good reason to thank Providence for our fortunate escape from death.

I felt that I had done as much to promote the interests of the owners as any man could do; but the conditions had been adverse, and the responsibility was now theirs, and not mine.

The gravest part of the situation, so far as I was personally concerned, was to get my men into some civilized port where they could find an opportunity to get home again. Also I must notify Mr. Harlan, by cable, and that as soon as possible, of the location and condition of his cargo. The loss of the ship I knew would matter little to him, as he had asserted this several times.

And now to solve the problem of our location. I had reason to believe that we had not varied to any great extent from the course my chart had indicated. Somewhere, either up or down the coast, was Colon, the Atlantic terminal of the Panama canal, and to reach that place ought not to be especially difficult, because our small boats were in fairly good condition.

The river made a bend just ahead of us, and my first thought was to get out a boat and explore the stream for a way. We might find some village, I imagined, or at least some evidence of human habitation.

So I ordered the gig lowered and took with me four men, besides Duncan Moit, who wanted to go along and begged the privilege. The current was languid and easy to breast, so we made excellent progress.

Bend after bend we made, for the stream was as crooked as a ram’s horn; but always the forest towered on the one hand and the low, marshy flats prevailed upon the other.

Rowing close to the shore, under the shadow of the trees, we could hear the stealthy sound of wild beasts in the wilderness, and once we espied a sleek jaguar lying flat upon the bank to drink. But no sign of man or civilization of any sort did we encounter. Even the woodman’s axe was nowhere in evidence.

We hugged the forest for several miles, finding the river easily navigable for small steamers. Then we decided to return, and followed the edge of the opposite marsh, which was much less inviting and less liable to be inhabited than the other shore.

We were scarcely a mile from the ship when Moit suddenly exclaimed:

“Isn’t that a canoe?”

“Where?” I asked.

He pointed to a small inlet, and I could see plainly a craft that looked like an Indian dugout lying among the reeds.

“Let us get it and see what it looks like,” said I, hailing with some satisfaction this first evidence of human handicraft.

At the word my men rowed in, and the sailor in the bow, as he grasped the gunwale of the canoe, uttered a startled cry.

“What is it?” I asked.

Without reply he drew the canoe alongside our boat, and we could all see the form of a man lying flat upon his face on the rough bottom.

CHAPTER VI
THE DEAD MAN’S STORY

“Turn him over, Tom,” said I, softly, and the sailor clambered into the canoe and obeyed—rather gingerly, though, for no one likes to touch a dead man.

The bearded face and staring eyes that confronted us were those of one of our own race, a white man who had been shot through the heart with an arrow that still projected from the wound. His clothing was threadbare and hung almost in rags, while his feet were protected by rude sandals of bark laced with thongs of some vegetable fibre. He was neither a Mexican nor a Spaniard, but I judged him a North American of German descent, if his physiognomy could be trusted.

The man had not long been dead, that was quite evident, and the arrow that had pierced his heart must have killed him instantly. I pulled out the weapon and found it of skillful construction,—a head of hammered bronze fastened to a shaft most delicately shaped and of a wood that resembled yew. It differed materially from any Indian arrow I had ever before seen.

The mystery of this man’s life and death seemed impenetrable, and I ordered the canoe attached to our stern and towed it in our wake down to the ship.

A sailor’s burial ground is the sea; so I decided to sew the corpse in sacking, weight it heavily, and sink it in the deepest water of the river.

Before doing this one of the men searched the pockets of the tattered clothing and drew out a small book that looked like a diary, a pocketknife, several bits of lead-pencil and a roll of thin bark tied with wisps of the same material.

These things I took charge of, and then watched the obsequies. These were quickly performed, Ned reading a short prayer from his Bible by way of ceremony while all our company stood with bared heads. Then the men rowed the body out to the deepest part of the river, and as I watched them from the deck I noticed they were thrown into a state of sudden excitement and heard cries of anger and alarm. Lifting my glass into position I discovered the cause of this. The boat was surrounded by sharks, their dark heads and white bellies alternating as they slowly swam round and round, attracted by the scent of prey. I yelled to the men to bring the body back, but they were too excited to hear me and the next instant had dumped the weighted sack overboard and begun to row back to the wreck at racing speed.

It was just as well, however. I am quite sure the poor fellow reached bottom before a shark could seize him, and once on the bottom they would be unable to either see him or grasp him in their jaws.

Seated on the deck with the others and shaded from the sun by a heavy awning, I glanced at the diary and found that the murdered man had not made a daily record, but had written upon the pages a sort of narrative, which seemed likely to prove interesting. So I asked Duncan Moit to read it aloud, which he did. I have it beside me now, and copy the following word for word as it was first read to us that day in the tropics with the wilderness all around us.

“My name is Maurice Kleppisch,” it began, “by profession an engineer and mining expert residing at Denver, Colorado, at those times when I am at home.

“Nine years ago I was sent to the Republic of Colombia to examine a mine, and while there I joined myself to a party that was formed to visit the San Blas Country, at the south of Panama, and trade with the Indians who are the masters of a vast territory there. I am no trader, but my object was to take advantage of this opportunity to investigate the mining possibilities of the wild and unknown region of San Blas, thinking that should I fall in with traces of gold my fortune would be made.

“But, when we arrived at the border, the arrogant Indians would not allow us to enter their country at all, commanding us, with imperious scorn, to stand at a respectful distance and display our wares. The traders obeyed without demur, but I was angry and vengeful, and for a time considered my journey a failure. The Indians, however, exchanged their cocoanuts and sheep-skins—with such other things as their land produced—with great willingness and absolute honesty and fairness, and the traders learned that their given word was held inviolate.

“Nursing my disappointment at being excluded from this mysterious country, I stood sullenly watching the bartering when my attention was aroused by an object that made my heart bound with excitement. It was an immense rough diamond, set in the bronze shaft of a spear borne by Nalig-Nad, the king of the San Blas and the most stalwart, dignified and intelligent Indian I have ever seen.

“I will here explain that the strange race known as the San Blas Indians of Southern Panama is none other than that historic remnant of the Aztec nation which, when Mexico was conquered by the Spaniard, fled through morass and mountains, across plains and rivers, until they came to this then unknown wilderness. Here they located and established a new nation which they call Techla. Their territory stretches south of the natural depression of the isthmus from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and contains vast stretches of forests and coastal plains, which they have ever jealously guarded from intrusion. No more did they build beautiful cities and golden temples, for gold they had learned to abhor because the lust for it had brought the white demons upon them in Mexico. The white skinned races were cordially detested as the destroyers of their former nation. By them the Techlas had been driven from the abode bequeathed them by their ancestors.

“The creed of the new nation, therefore, contained two prime articles of faith: Never to mine or trade or employ gold in any form for use or ornament; to hate and oppose every white man that came near them.

“The San Blas people are not truly Indians, as we regard the West Indian and Central American tribes, but are well formed, intelligent and fierce. Their skin is of copper-colored hue and they have a characteristic dress that is peculiar to their nation. They have an established government centering in the king, humane and just laws for the guidance of their tribes, and many racial characteristics. It is said the weaker Aztecs remained in Mexico as slaves of the Spaniards, while the nobles and the most stalwart and powerful individuals, realizing their inability to oppose the usurpers but scorning to become their vassals, fled southward in the manner I have described.

“However true this may be, I found the San Blas—a name given them by the early Spaniards but never acknowledged by themselves—to be well worthy of admiration in all ways except their persistent hatred of the whites. They gave our party cocoanuts and cereals, tortoise-shells, skins of wild beasts that were most skillfully dressed, and a soft quality of lamb’s wool, in exchange for knives, glass beads, compasses, colored crayons, mirrors and other inexpensive trinkets.

“When I got my eye upon the king’s mammoth diamond I was so amazed that I trembled with eagerness. The gem must have weighed fully five hundred carats, and being intent to obtain it for myself I offered my silver watch, a fountain pen, my comb and brushes and a quantity of buttons in exchange for the diamond.

“My very anxiety was the cause of my undoing. My reckless offers aroused the king’s suspicions, and when my comrades also saw the diamond they became as anxious as I was, and offered so much for a bit of stone which the king had never considered of any value, that he questioned us closely and learned that the white men esteem these gems even more than they do gold.

“Then the king drew himself up proudly and spoke to his men in their own native dialect, with which we are unfamiliar. Several of the Indians brought to their ruler specimens of the same stones—rough diamonds ranging from the size of a pea upward. These they had doubtless gathered and kept because they were pretty, but Nalig-Nad took them all in his hand and, having pried his own splendid stone from its setting in the spearshaft, he advanced to the edge of the river and cast them all into its depths.

“‘I have told my men,’ said he, ‘never to gather these pebbles again; nor will we ever trade them to the white men. I class them with the gold, for we are determined not to own anything which will arouse the mad desires of your people.’

“A few of the San Blas, including their king, speak the English language; more of them speak in the Spanish tongue; but their own language, as I have said, is distinct from the dialects of the other Indian tribes and the white men have no opportunity to learn it.

“We were greatly disappointed by the loss of the gems, and when we returned to our camp we talked the matter over and concluded that there must be many diamonds lying exposed upon the surface of the ground in some part of the San Blas territory. Else the Indians would not have been enabled to pick up such choice and extraordinarily large specimens as we had seen.

“I did not like to go away without making an attempt to locate these diamond fields, and seven of the party, adventurous as myself, determined to join in braving the anger of the stern Nalig-Nad. So at night we stole through the north forest and by morning had come to the edge of the fertile plains whereon the San Blas mostly dwell.

“Their country may be divided into three sections: First, the North Forest, bordering on the Panama marshes and the wilderness. Second, a high and broad sweep of coastal plains, formed by eroded drift from the mountains. This section is well watered by numerous streams and the soil is extremely rich and fertile. To the east, by the Atlantic coast, are the cocoanut groves, but most of this fruit is grown upon several islands lying off the coast in the Atlantic. The third division lies south of the plains and consists of a magnificent primeval forest which covers thickly all the slope of the mountains. The climate, especially that of the uplands, is temperate and delightful, and it has been stated that these powerful Indians control the most desirable bit of land in the Western Hemisphere.

“It was in the plain that we determined to search for the diamond fields, and as the Indians had arbitrarily forbidden white men to enter their domain, we stained our faces and arms and chests with walnut juice, and dressed ourselves in imitation of the San Blas people as nearly as we were able. And thus we prowled around for several days, until in a rich valley covered with alluvial deposit I picked up one of the coveted ‘pebbles,’ and to our great delight we knew that we had stumbled upon the right place.

“An hour later we were surrounded by a band of the San Blas and made prisoners. We relied upon our disguises to protect us, but when they had examined us closely the Indians stripped off our clothing and discovered our white skins. We knew, then, our fate was sealed.

“These people allow negroes to enter their country, and even employ some of them to labor upon their farms. Other Indian tribes of the mountains, who are all hostile to the whites, are permitted to pass through the San Blas territory, and sometimes these mountaineers have with them white slaves, who are treated cruelly and obliged to bear their burdens. But these whites who are the slaves of Indians are the only ones ever tolerated in the country, and a band like our own, entering by stealth to secure treasure, might expect no mercy at the hands of the San Blas.

“Being taken before Nalig-Nad at his own village, he condemned us all to death but one, who was to be sent back to Colombia to tell the fate of those who dared defy the laws of the San Blas. We cast lots, and I drew the fortunate number. My comrades, two of whom were young men of position and wealth in Bogota, were ruthlessly murdered, and I was then escorted to the border and set free.

“I reported the matter to the Colombian authorities, and a company of soldiers was promptly sent by the President to punish the impudent Indians and teach them not to molest the whites in the future. After a long period of waiting a single soldier, who had his ears cut off and was otherwise horribly mutilated, arrived at Bogota to tell of the total extinction of all his fellows and to report that King Nalig-Nad had promised to treat in the same manner any who dared to interfere with his authority. The government decided to let these fierce Indians alone. There were other troubles, nearer home, that needed attention.

“I returned to Denver, but could not get this rich diamond field out of my head. I was a poor man, yet I knew where I might obtain countless treasure—if I dared but make the attempt.

“Finally I decided that I might be able to accomplish alone what a band of white men could never succeed in doing, and having formulated my plans I sailed to Colon and prepared to enter once more the country of the San Blas.

“My idea was admirably simple. The Indians feel so secure that they seldom prowl by night, and in their climate the stars and moon are so brilliant that they illuminate the country almost as well as does the sun by day. By stealthily avoiding all habitations and villages, I had a fair chance to escape observation, and the valley I sought was in an uninhabited part of the plains.

“I took a canoe and a package of provisions, and began my journey by entering the San Maladrino river at the Atlantic mouth. I followed this until the river passed between two high hills, which may be seen in the crude map I have drawn for the benefit of others, should I lose my life in this desperate adventure.

ISTHMUS OF PANAMA MAP

“A stream of which I do not know the name enters the San Maladrino just beyond the hills mentioned, and leads to the southward. It passes through the first forest and is broad and deep. Hiding in the forest the first day, I cautiously paddled my canoe up this stream the next night and passed a portion of the plain until I reached a smaller tributary entering from the left. This tributary flows through the most fertile and most thickly inhabited portion of the Indian lands. At the first junction I turned to the right and paddled along until I could go no further by boat. So, secreting my canoe in some bushes, I walked during the following night to the valley which we had before visited, and which lies in the uplands near to the edge of the great mountain forest. This tangled woodland favored me, for in it I hid securely by day, while at night I searched for diamonds in my valley.

“I found many stones, and some of extraordinary size and beauty, but was greatly retarded in my discoveries by the dimness of the light. The forest shaded the valley part of the time, and only for a brief two hours each night was the light of the moon directly upon the slight depression where I labored.

“And now I have been three weeks hidden in the heart of the San Blas district, and no one has observed me as yet. I have secured almost three quarts of superb diamonds—a fortune so enormous that I am considering a speedy return to civilization. Meantime, I have employed some of my leisure moments in writing this history in my book.”

CHAPTER VII
THE FOLLY OF THE WISE

No one had interrupted Duncan Moit as he read clearly and slowly the above interesting story, but as he paused at the close of the last paragraph I have recorded we gave some sighs of wonder and admiration and looked at one another curiously to see what impression the “history” was making.

“Go on!” cried Uncle Naboth, eagerly. “That can’t be all.”

“No,” answered the inventor, “it is not all. But it seems to cover the period of the first writing. The other entries are more hurried and more carelessly inscribed.”

“Is the map he mentions there?” I asked.

“Yes. It is badly drawn, for an engineer, but sufficiently clear, I imagine, to enable one to follow it with ease.”

“Then read on, please.”

He obeyed at once.

“Last night, as I approached the forest after my work in the valley, I saw a man’s face peering at me from between the trees. The moon shone on it clearly. It was an Indian’s face, but in an instant it had disappeared. Greatly startled, I searched the forest with care, but could find no trace of the spy. I may have been deceived, however. Perhaps my nerves are getting unstrung.”

Moit turned a leaf.

“Again I have seen a man’s face,” he read. “This time it was in the center of the valley, among a clump of low bushes. I ran to the forest in a state of excitement; then reproached myself for my folly and came back; but I could find nothing.”

“These are all different entries,” remarked the reader, turning another page. “I will read them as they appear.”

“I am confident,” proceeded the writer, “that I have been discovered at last by the San Blas. They have spies all around me, by day as well as by night, but to my surprise they have not yet molested me in any way. I have determined to get away at once—this very night—but as I may be seized, and perhaps murdered, I shall not take more than a part of my treasure with me. This valley of diamonds is far richer than any field ever discovered in South Africa, and if I am able to escape I shall secure assistance and come here again in spite of the San Blas. So I will leave the greater part of my treasure where it has been hidden, and take only such stones as I can comfortably carry in my pockets. I must write a description of where the diamonds are secreted, for if I am killed and any white man comes upon this book, I bequeathe to him my wealth, provided he is brave enough to take it from the country of the San Blas. Here is my injunction: When you have reached the valley I have marked upon the map, you will find near its center a boulder of deep red granite, bare and solitary, the upper portion bearing an arm-like projection or spike that points directly toward the forest. Follow this line of direction and you will come upon a gigantic mahogany tree standing just at the edge of the forest, which is really a jungle at this point. Back of the mahogany is a large dead stump, surrounded by moss. Lift the moss at the right of the stump and you will come upon a cavity in which I have secreted my hoard of diamonds. You will have no trouble in recognizing the valley, on account of the remarkable boulder of rock, and the rest is easy.... I have reached the stream and found my canoe safe; but I must keep hidden among the bushes until another night. I do not think I have been followed, but I cannot be sure. The strange inaction of the San Blas astonishes me and makes me uneasy.

* * * * * * * *

“The worst has happened, and it is not so very bad, after all. They seized me last evening and took away my diamonds, which they cast into the river with absolute disdain of their value. But then they at once released me, and went away and left me to myself. Fortunately I had hidden ten fine stones in a roll of bark, and these they failed to discover. I am sorry to have lost the others, but these few specimens will prove the truth of my story when I get home. The adventure shows my wisdom in leaving the bulk of the treasure secreted in the forest.... There is no use in hiding myself now, for my presence is well known. Why I should have been spared, when every other white intruder has been killed, I cannot explain. But they seem to have made an exception in my favor, and I am jubilant and fearful at the same time. Somehow, I cannot help imagining that these dreadful Indians are playing with me, as a cat does with a mouse. But I shall go boldly forward, and trust to luck to escape.”

“Is that all?” I asked, as Duncan Moit paused and closed the book.

“It is all.”

“But the rest of the poor fellow’s story is as clear as if he had written it,” I commented, musingly. “The Indians waited until he had reached the last boundary of their territory, and then put an arrow into his heart. Where he fell they left him, trusting the canoe would float down the stream and warn other whites not to venture too near.”

“Do you think that story is true?” enquired Uncle Naboth, with some asperity.

“Why not, Uncle?”

“It sounds fishy, to my notion.”

I drew the roll of bark we had taken from the pocket of the dead man and cut with my knife the thongs which bound it together. After removing the outer wrappers I found ten crystal pebbles in the center, which I handed around so that all could examine them with care. Only Uncle Naboth had seen rough diamonds before, but the grunts of the shrewd old trader told me at once that he recognized the value of these stones.

However, I looked up the acid test in one of my books in the stateroom, and was able to apply it in a satisfactory manner. We managed to crumble a portion of one stone and with the dust thus secured Duncan polished a small surface on another. They were diamonds, sure enough, very white in color and seemingly perfect specimens.

And all the while we were thus occupied the four of us were silently thinking. Each one, moreover, took the book and read with care the story for himself. The map was crude enough, but I stared at it so intently that every pencil mark was indelibly impressed upon my brain.

At dinner we were an unsociable party. Afterward we assembled on the deck. Uncle Naboth smoked his pipe instead of the big cigar, but said nothing. Ned put his face between his hands and resting his elbows upon his knees stared fixedly at the deck in meditative silence. Duncan Moit hung over the rail and gazed at the river as it murmured by.

I looked at my comrades and smiled at their absorption. This longing for treasure and sudden wealth is natural enough, and few men are able to escape it. I knew very well that all of us were pondering on a way to get at the diamonds Maurice Kleppisch had left secreted in the forest of San Blas. I may as well acknowledge that I was fully as covetous as the others, but a hearty fear of those strange Indians did much to lessen my desire to visit them.

The evening passed with scarcely a remark, and when we went to bed we were still thinking. Not of the wrecked ship, though, or how we should save the cargo and get ourselves into some civilized port. The reading of the dead man’s narrative had turned our thoughts entirely from our own mischance and inoculated us with a feverish desire to plunge into the same adventurous channels that had resulted so fatally in his own case.

At breakfast Uncle Naboth suddenly abandoned all pretense of reserve.

“This is the San Maladrino river,” he asserted.

We all nodded, our faces serious and attentive.

“Of course,” said I. “He returned the same way he entered the San Blas country, and we found him floating on this very stream.”

No one cared to discuss a proposition so very evident, and having hurriedly finished the meal we assembled on deck to resume the conversation.

“Gentlemen,” said Moit, “you have all arrived at some conclusion, I am sure. Let us exchange ideas, and discuss their various merits.”

I asked Ned Britton to speak first.

“Well,” said he, “it wouldn’t be right or proper for us to leave them two or three quarts o’ diamon’s to rust under that stump. I notice the book says these Injuns don’t have firearms; but we’ve got a plenty, so I perpose as we march in, pepper ’em good if they show fight, an’ then march out agin with the di’monds. I believe if we put up a good front there’s enough of us to do the job.”

“Especially as a company of carefully drilled soldiers got wiped off the earth,” I remarked somewhat sarcastically.

“Colombian sodgers don’t count,” said Ned. “Our men is the right stuff ’cause they’re all Americans.”

“I confess that I do not like the looks of this arrow,” said Moit, handling cautiously the bronze tipped weapon we had drawn from the dead man’s breast. “It is evident they can shoot straight, and there may be thousands of the San Blas to fight, for all we know. I think that open warfare would result in our total extinction.”

“If by that you mean we’d be punched full o’ holes, I quite agree with you,” observed Uncle Naboth. “Diplomacy’s the thing; diplomacy an’ caution. You can ketch more flies with sugar ’n’ you can with vinegar.”

“Haven’t you a suggestion, Uncle?” I asked.

During several voyages in the company of Naboth Perkins I had learned to have great respect for his shrewdness and judgment, and for that reason I now awaited his reply with genuine interest.

He relighted his pipe, gave two or three energetic puffs, and then began:

“This fellow, you’ll notice, tells us a good deal about the San Blas Indians, an’ what he says is all worth careful considerin’. They ain’t like common savages, but have their laws an’ live up to ’em. In one place he says niggers is used by them for slaves, and that white slaves of Injuns that is friendly to ’em, an’ not to the whites, is let alone whenever they’re in their country. Gentlemen—an’ Sam, too—that’s my keynote. It tells us plain what to do, an’ how to do it!”

He looked at us triumphantly, but I was too stupid to see the point of this argument.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Uncle,” I said.

“Well, you’re wrong, Sam. It’s a thing you can’t help now, but you’re likely to outgrow it. Hey there, Nux!” he called. “Get Bry an’ both o’ you come here.”

I started, beginning to see what he meant; but I said nothing until the two Sulus stood before us. Bryonia was tall and slender, and very powerful. Nux was shorter and stouter, but equally strong of muscle. Their faces were intelligent and expressive and their poise exhibited a native dignity. Two more faithful followers no man ever had than this pair of South Sea Indians, and I regarded them more as brothers than servants, for I owed my life to their bravery and care.

“Gentlemen,” announced Uncle Naboth, “these boys is Indians, and mighty good Indians, too. They’re goin’ to take us four white folks into the San Blas country as their slaves. They’ll be finely welcomed, for they’ll pound an’ kick us all around, and we’ll be meek as Moses till we git our fists on them di’monds. It’s jest as easy as rollin’ off a log, an’ a heap more fun.”

I admit the suggestion filled me with admiration, and I saw Duncan Moit’s face brighten as soon as he heard it.

“That’s it, sir!” he exclaimed. “That is just the idea I was looking for, to connect with my own. By putting the two together I believe we shall succeed without a doubt.”

“What is your idea, then?” I asked.

“To travel in my convertible automobile.”

“What! Through a wilderness?”

“Along the streams as far as the water will allow, and then over the level plains. The machine will run in any farming country, for you must remember that it does not sink into soft ground as ordinary heavy automobiles do. Indeed, by turning the pumps into the vacuum chambers and exhausting them, I can render the car so light that it will almost skim over a marsh.”

“But what’s the use of travellin’ that way?” asked Uncle Naboth.

“We gain safety, in case of attack; speed, if we are forced to fly; comfort, by carrying our hotel always with us, and, above all, I rely upon the invention to awe the simple Indians and make them look upon us as superior creatures. The machine is here and in working order; it would be folly, when it offers so many advantages, not to use it.”

“Very good,” said I, approvingly, for I could see the force of his arguments.

“The only thing that worried me,” continued Moit, “was the fact that our being white would arouse the enmity of the San Blas, in spite of the wonders we can show them. But if Nux and Bryonia pose as the masters, and we are merely their slaves to run and care for their magic travelling machine, then we need have no special fear.”

“Magic travellin’ machine is good!” cried my uncle. “You’ve hit the nail on the head, Mr. Moit, as sure as fate!”

The inventor smiled, as if pleased with the compliment.

“If I can get a share of those diamonds,” said he, “I will be independent of my rich uncle in Los Angeles, and will have the means to secure my patents, erect my own factory, and manufacture the machines myself. It is something to work for, is it not?”

I had been carefully examining the proposition, and now said:

“There seems to be a serious flaw in your arrangement, Uncle.”

“What’s that, Sam?”

“It isn’t reasonable that four white men should be slaves to two black ones. Such a combination would excite the suspicions of the Indians at once, if they are really as clever as they are reported to be. Take your own case, for example, Uncle Naboth. You couldn’t look like a slave for a single minute.”

Indeed, Mr. Perkins’ stout little body, his cheery face and shrewd eyes, and the general air of prosperity and contentment that radiated from his benign personality, were a clear refutation of any suggestion of slavery or even dependence. Even Ned smiled at the idea, and Duncan Moit shook his head with a sigh.

“Mr. Perkins can’t go,” he said.

Uncle Naboth looked disappointed, and then puffed his pipe angrily.

“You fellers don’t allow for my actin’,” he growled. “I’m as good a play actor as ever travelled with a show.”

“That may be, Uncle; but you don’t look the part, and unfortunately you can’t disguise yourself,” I said. “But I want it clearly understood that whoever goes on this adventure, we are all to have an equal share in the spoils. For the opportunity belongs to us all alike, and all would be glad to go and do their full share.”

“I am willing to agree to that,” said Moit.

“Then I propose that you and I alone accompany Bry and Nux on the expedition,” I continued. “Two of us are as good as a dozen, for we cannot fight our way, in any event.”

“What about me?” asked Britton, anxiously.

“I want you to take a crew in the long boat and try to make Colon, by feeling your way north along the coast. From there you can report by wire our mishap to Mr. Harlan, and get his instructions what to do. Uncle Naboth must in the meantime take charge of the wrecked ship and the remaining men. This country isn’t very big, you know; so we all ought to be able to meet again in a few days, when we can decide upon our future movements.”

And so the matter was finally arranged, and it was decided that Ned and his crew in the long boat and our party in our “magic travelling machine” would leave the wreck the next morning and proceed in opposite directions upon our respective missions.

CHAPTER VIII
THE SAN BLAS COUNTRY

We had an early breakfast and then Ned Britton bade us good-bye and started obediently to descend the river and explore along the coast. He was loth to abandon the more dangerous and fascinating quest for the diamonds, but being loyal to the core he knew how to obey orders without grumbling.

As soon as he was away we began preparations for our own departure. The first thing was to arrange for launching the convertible automobile, which Moit had been examining very carefully ever since daybreak. He reported that it had sustained no damage whatever from the storm or the shock of grounding and was in perfect condition. So all we had to do was to remove the guy ropes, let it slide down the slanting deck to the bulwarks—over which we lifted it with a crane attached to the mizzenmast—and then let the machine descend gently until it rested on the bosom of the river.

I was still so skeptical concerning some of Moit’s absurd claims that it would not have surprised me to see the huge car sink like a stone; but instead of that it rode the water like a duck, the wheels half submerged, the rail high above the water-line.

We now filled the ample lockers beneath the seats with provisions, put in a cask of fresh water in case the river water proved unpalatable, and took along such trinkets as we could gather together for trading purposes. We each carried a brace of revolvers, Moit and I (being slaves) concealing ours, while Nux and Bry carried theirs openly.

Finally we dressed for the excursion. The gay checked suit and tourist cap of Uncle Naboth we gave to Nux, and although they hung rather loosely he presented a most startling appearance in them. He swung a brass watch chain of gigantic size across his vest front and Uncle gave him a few of the big cigars to smoke when he wanted to “show off.”

Bry wore a white duck suit belonging to Duncan Moit, and to my astonishment looked as aristocratic as any Eastern potentate on his first visit to London. These Sulus were by no means bad looking men, if one could forget their color, and they took great delight in the transformations we thrust upon them.

As for Moit and myself, we hunted among the sailors’ cast-off togs for the most disreputable “land clothes” we could find, and those we selected were ragged and dirty enough, in all conscience. I wore a run-down shoe upon one foot and a red leather slipper on the other, and when I had rumpled my hair and soiled my face and hands I am sure I was as disgraceful in appearance as any ragged urchin you ever came across.

I was not wholly satisfied with Duncan, however. In spite of his apparel there was so thoughtful a look in his big gray eyes and so well-bred and composed an expression on his finely molded features that he could not look a servant’s part as fully as I did and the best I could hope was that the San Blas people would consider him an unfortunate gentleman in hard luck.

There was much laughter and amusement among the men we left behind on the wreck, when they beheld our queer appearance. Uncle Naboth chuckled until he coughed, and coughed until he choked, badly frightening those who were unaware that this startling exhibition was usual with him whenever he reached that climax of joy which he called being “desp’ritly pleased.”

I bade him an affectionate farewell, and then we four got into the “auto-boat.” Moit sprung the paddles from the rims of the wheels and started the engines, and a minute later we were waving our hands to those on the wreck and gliding at a good rate of progress up the river.

The bulky machine did not draw so much water as one would imagine, owing to its broad displacement and the lightness of the material employed in its construction. We found the current gentle, and made such good time that at eleven o’clock we passed between the two hills indicated on Maurice Kleppisch’s map, a copy of which I had brought with us.

The current was swifter here because the mounds narrowed the river considerably; but Moit gave the engines a little more speed and we went through without abating our rate of progress.

Just beyond the hills we saw a group of Indians standing beneath the trees on the left bank and regarding us earnestly but calmly. Perhaps they had seen small steamers and thought our craft belonged to that class, for they exhibited neither fear nor surprise, merely turning their grave faces toward us and remaining otherwise motionless and silent as we glided by.

I whispered to Bryonia and Nux to stand up and bow a greeting, which they proceeded to do with amusing and exaggerated dignity; and then I told Nux to box my ears, which he did so promptly and in so lusty a manner that they rang for several minutes afterward.

I had explained to my blacks at great length our reasons for undertaking this queer adventure, and what we expected them to do to carry out the farce and assist us in securing the treasure. I had even read to them the dead man’s diary, from beginning to end, so that they would know as much about the San Blas as we did. They were, as I have said, both clever and resourceful, besides being devoted to me personally; so that I felt justified in relying to a great extent upon their judgment in case of emergency.

Should I need to give them any secret instructions, I could do so in their own language, which they had taught me during the tedium of several long voyages, and which I prided myself upon speaking fairly well. It was the language of their own island of Tayakoo, for these were not properly Sulus but natives belonging to a distinct tribe of South Sea Islanders which owed allegiance to no other ruler than their own.

Being aware that the king, and some others, of the San Blas knew English and Spanish, I could rely upon this almost unknown dialect to cover any secret instructions I wished to convey to my blacks.

Nux and Bry were not linguists, however, and knew but a few Spanish words besides the imperfect English and their native tongue; but we arranged that they were to command me to interpret in Spanish whenever it was necessary. Duncan Moit, unfortunately, knew nothing but English.

The tributary that entered the river from the left side was a farther distance beyond the hills than the map seemed to indicate; but we came to it presently and began slowly to ascend it in a southerly direction, although it made many twists and turns. We found it easily navigable, with dense forests on either side, and several times we found we were observed by silent groups of Indians on the bank, to all of whom Nux and Bry bowed greetings with tremendous condescension and mock courtesy. The bows were never returned, however, and the Indians stood like statues until we had passed by.

“There is no way of avoiding these people,” said Moit, “so I think our best policy will be to go directly to the king’s village, which I see marked upon the map, and make friends with him. Bryonia can explain our presence by saying he merely wishes to examine the San Blas country, and when once we have established friendly relations with these natives we can visit several different parts of their territory, to throw them off their guard, and finally reach the valley for which we are bound and secure the diamonds at our leisure.”

“That seems to me a capital plan,” I agreed, and we decided then and there to follow it as closely as circumstances would allow.

After an hour’s cruise through the forest we came to the coastal plains, finding this a remarkably fertile country with fields under fine cultivation. As soon as we discovered a low bank on our left we turned the machine toward the shore, and when the wheels touched bottom they climbed the bank easily and we quickly found ourselves upon dry land.

More Indians were observing us, and as we left the water and glided over the land I detected a look of amazement upon their faces that all their reserve could not control. Indeed, I was myself filled with wonder at the marvelous performances of Duncan Moit’s invention, so that small blame attaches to the San Blas if their stoicism could not master their astonishment.

We crossed the plain until we came upon a pretty stream, which we took to be the one indicated upon the map, and from there followed its course eastward, making excellent time over the level meadows. We saw a few huts scattered along the way, and several herds of cattle and sheep, but no horses. The sheep seemed few to supply the wool for which these Indians were famous, but I imagined we would find larger flocks in the uplands.

It was about five o’clock in the afternoon when we sighted a considerable village, which at once we determined must be the place we sought. Bowling along at an increased pace we soon reached the town, but to our surprise we found our way barred by solid files of Indians, all standing with their arrows ready notched in their bowstrings.

Moit stopped the engines and we came to a halt. Hitherto we had been allowed to go where we pleased since entering this strange land, but it seemed that our license was now at an end.

Bry stood up in his seat, made a bow, and said in a loud voice:

“Any speak Englis’?—America—United States?”

In an instant we were surrounded by the stern-visaged natives, while one of them, a tall, powerful fellow and evidently a chief, stepped close to the machine and answered in a quiet voice:

“I the English speak.”

“Very good,” said Bry. “I am great chief of Tayakoo. My name is Honorable Bryonia. Here is my brother, also great chief of Tayakoo—he name Senator Nux. We come to visit the chiefs and great king of the San Blas. Then, say to me, oh, Chief, are we welcome? Are we all brothers?”

I thought this was a very good introduction. But the chief glanced at me and at Moit, frowning darkly, and asked:

“Who the white men? What bring them here?”

“You speak about our slaves? Bah! Have my brothers of San Blas, then, no slaves to do their work?”

The chief considered a moment.

“Where you get white slaves?” he questioned, suspiciously.

“Stan’ up, Dunc!” said Bry, giving the inventor a vicious kick that made him howl. “Where we get you, heh?”

He kicked him again, quite unnecessarily, I thought, and Moit stood up with a red and angry face and growled:

“Stop that, you fool!”

At this rebellion Nux promptly fetched him a blow behind the knees that sent him tumbling backward upon his seat, and when I laughed—for I could not help it—I got another ear-splitter that made me hold my head and be glad to keep silent. Moit evidently saw the force of our blacks’ arguments, for he recovered his wits in time to avoid further blows.

The exhibition had one good effect, anyway; it lulled any suspicions of the chief that the Honorable Bryonia and Senator Nux might not be the masters in our little party. Although Duncan Moit and I constantly encountered looks of bitter hatred, our men were thereafter treated with ample respect and consideration.

“You welcome,” said the chief. “I, Ogo—Capitan Ogo—green chief. You come to my house.”

He turned and marched away, and Moit started the machine and made it crawl after him.

The other natives followed in a grave procession, and so we entered the village and passed up its clean looking streets between rows of simple but comfortable huts to the further end where we halted at the domicile of the “green chief.”

CHAPTER IX
FACING THE ENEMY

“Capitan” Ogo made an impressive bow in the direction of his mud mansion and then another bow to Nux and Bry.

“Come,” he said.

They accepted the invitation and climbed out of the machine.

“Don’t be long, Nux,” I remarked, in the Tayakoo dialect.

Instantly the chief swung around on his heel.

“What does this mean?” he cried, speaking the same language. “Do you receive orders from your white slaves?”

I stared at him open mouthed, but to my intense admiration neither Nux nor Bryonia exhibited the least surprise.

“Orders?” asked Bry, quietly. “Do you blame us that the whites are fools, and speak like fools? My brother has surely more wisdom than that. If you knew the white dogs, you would believe that their tongues are like the tongues of parrots.”

“I know them,” answered Ogo, grimly. Then he asked, abruptly:

“Where did you learn the language of my people—the ancient speech of the Techlas?”

“It is my own language, the speech of my people of Tayakoo, whose chief I am.”

They looked upon each other with evident curiosity, and I examined the two Indians, as they stood side by side, and wondered at their similar characteristics. Bryonia might easily be mistaken for a brother of the San Blas chief, so far as appearances went, and although Nux was of a different build there were many duplicates of him in the silent crowd surrounding us.

“Where is Tayakoo?” asked Ogo.

“Far to the south, in the Pacific ocean.”

“What is the history of your people?”

“I do not know.”

“Are there many of you?”

“But a few, inhabiting a small island.”

The chief seemed thoughtful. Then he turned again.

“Come!” he commanded; and they followed him into his house.

Duncan Moit was clearly puzzled by this conversation, carried on in a language unknown to him.

“What is it all about, Sam?” he enquired, in a low voice.

“The Sulus and the San Blas speak the same language,” I replied.

“Anything wrong?”

“No; our chances are better than ever, I guess.”

Fifty pair of eyes were staring at us curiously; so we decided not to converse further at present. We stared in turn at the natives, who seemed not to object in the least.

Without question the San Blas were the best looking Indians I have ever seen. They resembled somewhat the best of the North American tribes, but among them was a larger proportion of intelligence and shrewdness. Their faces were frank and honest, their eyes large and expressive, and they moved in a self-possessed and staid manner that indicated confidence in their own powers and contempt for all enemies.

Their costumes were exceedingly interesting. Men and women alike wore simple robes of finely woven wool that were shaped somewhat like Greek tunics. The arms of the men were bare; the women had short flowing sleeves; and this was the only perceptible difference in the garb of the two sexes, except that most of the men wore sandals of bark, while the women and children were bare-footed.

The tunic was their sole garment, and reached only to the knees, being belted at the waist. The women, I afterward learned, wove the cloth in their houses, as one of their daily occupations, and the body of the tunic was always white, with colored stripes worked in at the neck and around the bottom.

These colors, which must have been vegetable dyes, were very brilliant in hue, including purple, orange, red, blue and yellow. Black was never used at all, and green was the color reserved for the nobles and the king. I noticed that the chief, Ogo, had a narrow band of green on his robe, which explained his proudly proclaiming himself a “green” or royal chief. The bands of green we found varied in width according to the prominence of their wearers.

One can easily imagine that the appearance of an automobile in this country, isolated as it was from all modern civilization, would be likely to inspire the natives with awe and wonder, if not with actual terror. Yet these queer people seemed merely curious, and tried to repress even their curiosity as much as possible. They knew nothing at all of mechanics, existing in the same simple fashion that their ancestors had done centuries before, plowing their land with sharpened sticks and using arrows and spears as their only weapons except for the long bronze knives that were so roughly fashioned as to be well-nigh ridiculous. The only way I can explain the stolid demeanor of these Indians is through their characteristic fearlessness and repression, which enabled them to accept any wonderful thing without displaying emotion.

But they were interested, nevertheless. Their eyes roved everywhere about the machine and only we, the accursed whites, were disregarded.

After a half hour or so Nux and Bryonia came out of the house, accompanied by the chief. They had broken bread together and tasted a native liquor, so that they might now depend upon the friendship of their host unless he found that they had deceived him. This was a long stride in the right direction. But when they had asked to see the king they were told that his residence was several miles to the eastward, and that in the morning Ogo would escort them to the royal dwelling and introduce them to the mighty Nalig-Nad.

Meantime Nux and Bry were given plain instructions not to leave this village, and when they were invited to sleep in the chief’s house they were able to decline by asserting that they always lived in their magic travelling machine. This excuse had been prearranged by us, for we deemed it best not to separate or to leave the machine while we were in the enemy’s country.

As soon as the blacks had re-entered the machine they commanded me, in abusive language, to prepare supper. Duncan at once got out our table, which was a folding contrivance he had arranged to set up in the center of the car, and then I got the alcohol stove from its locker and proceeded to light it.

While I made coffee and set the table with the food we had brought, Nux and Bry lolled on their seats and divided the admiring glances of the surrounding villagers with the (to them) novel preparations I was making for the repast. Then the Sulus sat at the table and I waited upon them with comical deference, Moit being unable to force himself to take part in the farce. Afterward we ate our own suppers and I for one relished it more than I usually did. In my boyish fashion I regarded it all as a great lark, and enjoyed the humor of the situation.

As it was growing dark I now lighted our lamps while the inventor drew the sections of the glass dome into place and fastened them together.

We could still be observed by those without, for although the top was provided with curtains we did not draw them. But now we were able to converse without being overheard, and Nux and Bry, appearing to be talking with each other, related all that had transpired in the chief’s house, while we commented upon it and our good fortune up to the present time.

“After we have visited the king, and made friends with him, we shall be able to go wherever we please,” I prophesied; “and then it won’t take us long to get the diamonds and make tracks back to the wreck again.”

To this all were agreed. Then Duncan remarked, musingly:

“It is strange you two Indian nations, so far removed, speak the same language.”

“True ’nough, Mars’ Moit,” replied Bry. “But I ’spect our folks come from de same country dese San Blas did, an’ dat ’counts fo’ it.”

“This fact ought to help us with them,” said I.

“Sure t’ing, Mars’ Sam,” Nux responded. “Dey knows now we just as good as dey is—an’ we know we’s better.”

As we were tired with our day’s excursion we soon removed the table and spread our blankets upon the roomy floor of the car. Then, with a courtesy we had not anticipated, the crowd of observers melted silently away, and by the time we were ready to put out the lights and draw the curtains we were alone in the village street, where not a sound broke the stillness.

CHAPTER X
NALIG-NAD

We slept nicely in our rather confined quarters, and at daybreak Bryonia arose and prepared breakfast while the curtains were still drawn. But as soon as he and Nux had cleared away the things we let down the top and appeared in our open car again, to find that the chief had waited so long outside that he was inclined to be in a bad humor.

The rabble did not come near to us this morning, however. Perhaps the chief thought their intent observation undignified, and had ordered them to keep away. But behind Ogo stood ten tall warriors who had been selected as our escort, or body-guard.

When we signified we were ready for the journey these formed a line of march—three in front, three behind, and two on either side. All were armed with stout spears, and each bore a bow and a quiver of bronze-tipped arrows, as well as a knife stuck into his girdle. When we started the chief brought up the rear of the procession, so that he could keep an eye on us.

Duncan Moit resented the necessity of running his machine at a slow pace, but when he started it at an ordinary walk he soon found that the Indians were accustomed to swing along at a much swifter rate. So he gradually increased our speed, and it was comical to see the solemn visaged warriors trying to keep up with us without running.

Finally, however, they broke into an easy trot, which they maintained for a long time without seeming to tire. I made Moit slow down after a while, for I did not wish to provoke the San Blas at present, and thought it wiser to show them some slight consideration.

The plains we were now crossing were remarkably rich and fertile, and we passed many farms where men were cultivating the soil by dragging sharpened sticks over the surface. In other places were fields of grain ready for the harvest, and Nux questioned the chief and learned that the climate was so uniform the year around that several crops could be grown in rapid succession. They used no beasts of burden, but performed all the labor with their own muscles, which in a measure accounted for their powerful racial physique. There were no roads leading from one place to another; merely paths over the meadows to indicate the lines of travel.

The houses were formed partly of logs and partly of clay baked in the sun. They were simple and somewhat rude in construction, but appeared to be quite clean and comfortable. So far we had seen little evidence of luxury or refinement.

It was nearly noon when we approached a circular enclosure which proved to be a stockade of clay held together with brushwood until the sun had hardened it to brick. There was an arched opening in this wall, and Moit obeyed a signal from Ogo and headed toward it.

Entering the enclosure we found a large, rambling dwelling in the center and a row of smaller houses circling the inner side of the wall. A large space was thus left around the central building, which we naturally concluded to be the king’s palace.

The doorways and windows (the latter being unglazed apertures) of the smaller huts were filled with attentive faces of women and children, but not a sound broke the silence to which these natives seemed to be trained. Except on extraordinary occasions the San Blas did not chatter; they only spoke when they were required to say something of meaning.

The chief directed us to halt before a small door of the palace.

“Get out,” he commanded, in the native tongue, “and follow me to the presence of our ruler, the mighty Nalig-Nad.”

Bryonia and Nux at once obeyed, but the chief motioned to us to come also. We hesitated, and Bry said:

“One of our slaves must remain in the machine, to care for it. The other may accompany us.”

“Both must come!” returned the chief, sternly.

“What! do you give me orders—do you command the Honorable Bryonia, King of Tayakoo?” demanded our black, drawing himself up proudly and frowning upon Ogo.

“The king shall decide,” returned the chief. “Come!”

I followed them in and Duncan remained with the machine. We passed through a hallway and came upon a central courtyard, built in the Spanish style. Here, upon a rude bench, sat an old warrior with a deeply lined face and long locks sprinkled with gray. His eyes were large and black and so piercing in their gaze that they seemed to probe one through and through, yet the expression of the man’s countenance was just now gentle and unassuming.

He had neither the stern nor the fierce look we had remarked in so many of the San Blas, but one might well hesitate to deceive the owner of that square chin and eagle-like glance.

The king wore a white robe with seven broad stripes of green woven into its texture, and on his knees were seated two children, a curly-headed little maid of about ten years and a calm faced boy of five. His surroundings were exceedingly simple, and the only others present were a group of warriors squatting in a far corner.

“Well, you are here at last,” said Nalig-Nad, looking at us over the heads of the children as we ranged ourselves before him and bowed with proper deference. “Which is your leader?”

“My friend, the Senator Nux, and I, the Honorable Bryonia, are alike kings and rulers in our own country,” was the reply. “But my friend is modest, and at his request I will speak for us both.”

“Good!” ejaculated Nalig-Nad. “Sit down, my brothers; kings must not stand in my presence.”

They sat upon a bench, and Nux, thinking this the right time to be impressive, got out a big cigar and lighted it, having offered another to the king, who promptly refused it.

“Why are you here to honor me with your presence?” was the next question, quietly put.

“In our magic travelling machine we are making a trip around the world,” began Bryonia, in a bombastic tone. They were speaking in the native dialect, which I clearly understood; and I must say that my men expressed themselves much better in that than they did in English.

The king took a bit of green chalk from his pocket and made a mark upon the bench beside him.

“Where did you get your white slaves?” he enquired.

“They were shipwrecked upon the island which we rule, and we made them our slaves,” said Bry.

The king made a second chalk mark.

“And where did you get the magic machine for travelling upon both land and water?” It was evident he had been well informed of our movements.

“It was made for us by a wizard of our island,” said Bry.

“What island?”

“Tayakoo.”

A third chalk mark.

“Does it belong to you?”

“Yes.”

Another mark.

“And now,” said the king, looking at them curiously, “tell me what request you have to make.”

“A request?”

“Yes; you asked to see the King of the San Blas. Then you wish something. I am the King.”

Bryonia hesitated.

“We wish to see all things,” said he, slowly, “and so we crave permission to visit the different parts of your country, that we may observe what it is like.”

“Just as a matter of curiosity?”

“Of course, my brother.”

A chalk mark.

“Do you love gold?” asked the king, abruptly.

“No, we do not care for gold.”

“Not at all?”

“Not in the least.”

The chalk mark again.

“Nor the white pebbles?” looking at them shrewdly.

“We care for no pebbles at all, white or black,” asserted Bry, beginning to grow uneasy.

The king made another mark, and then slowly counted them.

“Seven lies!” he announced, shaking his head gravely. “My brother is not honest with me. Otherwise there would be no lies.”

Nux put the wrong end of the cigar in his mouth, and begun to splutter and make faces. Bryonia looked at the king, stern and indignant.

“Do you judge us by the whites?” he cried.

“No; I have found that the whites are quick to acknowledge their love of gold.”

“If you were in my country,” said Bry, proudly, “I would not insult my brother king.”

“What would you do if I lied to you?” asked Nalig-Nad, quickly.

“You would not lie,” declared Bry. “Kings do not lie to each other—unless they are white.”

I wanted to yell “bravo!” the retort was so cleverly put. The king seemed pleased, and became thoughtful, stroking the little boy’s hair gently while the girl rested her pretty head against his broad bosom.

“The Techlas have reason to hate the whites,” he said, with a keen glance at me. “They drove us from our old home, because they wanted to rob us of our gold, which we loved only because it was beautiful. They were cruel and unjust, and lied to us, and had no faith nor honesty. So we fled; but we swore to hate them forever, and to be cruel and unjust to them, in turn, whenever they fell into our hands.”

“I do not blame your people,” declared Bry, stoutly.

“Tell me, then, why do you of Tayakoo hate them, and make them your slaves?”

“Why?”

“Yes; had you gold?”

“No.”

“Nor white pebbles?”

“No.”

“Then why do you hate them?”

“Because they are dangerous and wicked. They come in ships to our island and try to make us slaves. We fight them and drive them away, but they take some of my people and lash them with whips, and make them work like beasts. Also some of the whites we capture—such as these we now have with us—and then we love to force them to do our bidding. Never has there been friendship between the white men and the men of Tayakoo.”

He spoke very earnestly, and I knew he was telling the truth, in the main, for I had heard the same thing before. It was only because Uncle Naboth had saved the lives of these two blacks and been kind to them that they came to love us and to abandon the fierce hatred for the whites that had been a part of their training from youth up.

“I will buy your white slaves,” said the king, coolly, “and then you may go where you will in my kingdom.”

“We will not part with them. They must work for us and make our machine go.”

“If it is magic, it does not need slaves to make it go,” observed the king, with a smile.

“Would you deprive your brother kings of their only followers?”

“I will give you as many negroes as you require, in place of them.”

“We cannot spare them. These white dogs know our ways, and serve us well.”

“Then I will take but one, and leave you the other.”

Bry shook his head.

“Whatever else we possess, except our wonderful travelling machine, we will freely give to our brother,” said he. “But even Nalig-Nad has no right to demand our slaves, and we shall keep them.”

The king seemed disappointed. After a moment’s pause,

“Think of it,” he said; “and meantime make my home your home. We will talk of these matters again.”

He waved his hand in dismissal and turned to caress the children.

Ogo the chief said, sternly: “Come!” but Bry stood still.

“Have we the king’s permission to visit his dominions in our machine, while we are his guests?” he asked.

“Not yet,” replied Nalig-Nad, with the first touch of impatience he had shown; “we will talk again before you leave my village.”

“That does not sound friendly,” retorted Bryonia, frowning.

“Have you done anything to forfeit my friendship?” enquired the king, turning a swift glance upon the speaker. “Be content. Only in the king’s village should the brothers and guests of the king remain in peace and comfort. My people shall be your servants, and you may command them as you will; but you must not go outside the wall.”

We did not like this, and stood a moment silent.

“Seems to me, King Honorable Bryonia,” said Nux, speaking for the first time during the interview and addressing his friend point blank, as if the king’s presence was immaterial; “seems to me this new brother, King Nalig-Nad, is not a bad fellow. I like him because he is kind to little children, and I am sorry for him because he is not better informed. But what can you expect, when he stays in this one-horse place and knows nothing of the great world that bows at our feet? If he dares oppose your will, remember how poor and ignorant he is, and forgive him. I know what you are thinking, great King Honorable Bryonia, but I beg you not to destroy Nalig-Nad yet, or to explode his people with the terrible power you possess. Let us be patient. Permit this king to live on, for a short time, anyway. What a shame to ruin this happy home! Be patient, my mighty brother, and soon this foolish Nalig-Nad will have wisdom, and willingly grant all that you desire.”

Having delivered himself of this speech, Nux puffed his cigar again and looked at the king with a face expressive of great sympathy and concern.

Both Bry and I were fairly astounded. We had not expected Nux to take part in the discussion, and the pleading tone he had adopted was as good a bit of acting as Bryonia had yet exhibited. It impressed the king even more than Bryonia’s dignified assurances, although at first I trembled at the folly of threatening so clever and powerful a man as Nalig-Nad. After all, he was merely a savage, and more liable to suspect us of unknown powers than of unsupported audacity.

We soon discovered that Nux had grasped the situation more clearly than we had. The ruler of the San Blas was used to trickery and cunning and had trained himself to search for hidden reasons in all his dealings with outsiders. The suggestion that the owners of the strange travelling machine, who had so boldly invaded his country, had the intention and power of “exploding” himself and all his people struck him as more reasonable than anything he had yet heard. He was visibly worried, and looked half fearfully at the stern and impassive countenance of the tall South Sea Islander who stood before him.

“We will break bread,” he said, with quick decision. “Send away your slave, my brothers, and come with me.”

“Go,” said Bry, turning to me. “And go you, also, Chief Ogo,” he added, imperatively; “we would be alone with the king.”

The chief looked uneasily toward Nalig-Nad, who had set the children down and allowed them to run into the house. Noting the look, the king bowed his head to affirm Bry’s command. He might with reason fear his strange guests, but he was no coward.

I left the courtyard, followed by Ogo, and returned to where the automobile was standing.

CHAPTER XI
PRINCESS ILALAH

Leaning over the side of the machine, her chin resting upon her hands at the edge of the car, was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Her form was tall and slender, her features exquisitely regular in contour and her eyes deep brown and soft as velvet. Her fleecy white tunic was without color save a broad band of green that formed a zigzag pattern around its edge, and in her dark hair was twined a wreath of white blossoms with delicate green leaves.

I noticed that her skin was almost white in the sunshine, the bronze hue being so soft as to be scarcely observable. She had not the same expression of sadness that seemed an inherited characteristic of her people, but gazed upward with a faint smile that showed her dainty white teeth, full at the face of Duncan Moit. When I appeared upon the scene the inventor was sitting on the side of the car opposite the girl and returning her frank regard with a look of wonder and admiration.

A little back stood a silent group of young women, whose demeanor indicated that they were the girl’s attendants. Their eyes, I noticed, roved over the strange machine with eager curiosity.

Chief Ogo uttered an exclamation of impatience and strode quickly forward.

“This is no place for you, my Princess!” he said, addressing the girl. “You must retire at once to your rooms.”

She turned her head without altering her position and said in a calm, sweet tone:

“Does my lord Ogo command Ilalah, then?”

“When the king is not present it is my duty to guard his women,” he returned, brusquely.

With a contemptuous shrug as her only reply she looked toward Duncan again, and as if continuing a conversation already begun, she said to him in soft but awkward English:

“And shall it fly like a bird, too?”

“It can almost fly, but not quite, miss,” he answered.

“But it swims like a fish?”

“Yes, miss.”

“And runs like a deer?”

“Exactly, miss.”

“It would be to please me if it did that,” she remarked, very gently.

Duncan was puzzled for a moment; then his face brightened, and he said eagerly:

“If you will get in, I will take you to ride—you and three of your women.”

She did not hesitate at all, but turned and called three of the young women by name, who came at once to her side.

Ogo the chief, who could not follow very well the English words, was scowling fiercely, but had kept at a respectful distance since the girl had repulsed him. Enjoying his discomfiture, I promptly opened the door of the car and motioned the princess to enter. She ascended the steps lightly and I pushed her attendants after her, for I scented a lark and wanted to prevent Ogo from interfering.

I could see he was uncertain how to act, and the other bystanders were equally undecided. But no sooner had I jumped in after the women than Moit threw over the lever and started the engines, so promptly that the machine leaped forward with a bound.

We circled the king’s palace three times, while the dainty princess clung to the back of her seat and laughed delightedly and her women huddled together in abject terror. Every inhabitant flocked to the doors and windows to see us, nor could the natives control their amazement at our rapid flight.

Then Duncan headed for the arched opening in the wall, and ignoring Ogo’s wild shout to halt darted through and out upon the plains. The chief instantly notched an arrow, but the princess sprang to her feet and faced him from the rear of the car, so that he dared not shoot for fear of wounding her.

Another moment and we were out of range; and now Duncan, inspired by a natural desire to show his fair passenger what his invention could do, increased the speed until the wind whistled past our ears and our eyes were not quick enough to note the objects we passed.

I own that, being myself a sailor, I was a little frightened at this terrific dash; but Ilalah laughed gleefully and cast a slim brown arm around Duncan’s neck to steady herself as she gazed straight ahead and enjoyed to the full the excitement of the wild ride.

There was no real danger, however. The meadows were as smooth as any highway, and in an incredibly short period of time we were almost out of sight of the village.

The thought now came to me that it would not be wise for us to offend Nalig-Nad by carrying our prank too far, so I called to Duncan to return. Rather reluctantly, I imagined, he described a great circle and headed at last for the village, never abating his speed, however, until we had flown through the arch and narrowly escaped knocking over a dozen or so of the throng assembled in the enclosure.

Around the king’s palace we again sped, so as not to slacken our pace too abruptly, and then the inventor brought his wonderful machine to a halt in almost the same spot from whence we had started.

We now observed Nalig-Nad standing at the entrance to his dwelling with Nux and Bryonia on either side of him. Now that he stood upright I saw that he towered far above all his people, and was moreover straight as a gun-barrel.

As soon as we halted I opened the door and assisted the frightened attendants to reach the ground. Duncan, however, sprang out and gave his hand to Ilalah, who needed no such support. Her cheeks glowed pink through their rich tinting, her eyes sparkled brightly and there could be no question of her delight in her recent novel experience.

As soon as her feet touched the ground she ran to the king and seized his arm affectionately, crying aloud in her native tongue:

“Oh, my father, it is a miracle! The white man’s wagon is alive, and more fleet than an arrow.”

“It is not the white man’s wagon,” said Bry, quickly. “It is our wagon—the wagon of kings—and the white man is a slave, whose duty it is to make it go.”

“A slave? Oh, I am sorry!” said Ilalah, with disappointment.

“Why?” asked her father, putting an arm around her.

“Because the white man is beautiful as a spirit, and he is good and kind,” answered the princess.

I glanced at the unconscious Duncan and nearly laughed outright. That the thin-faced, stooping, dreamy-eyed inventor could by any stretch of the imagination be called beautiful was as strange as it was amusing. But the girl was doubtless in earnest, and being so rarely beautiful herself she ought to be a judge.

The king was plainly annoyed at this frank praise of a hated white. He presented his daughter, with much ceremony, to Nux and Bryonia, and she touched their foreheads lightly with her finger-tips, and then her own brow, in token of friendship.

“Will your Majesty take a ride in our magic travelling machine?” asked Bry, with proud condescension.

“Not now,” said the king, drawing back thoughtfully.

Presently he walked close to the machine and eyed every part of it with great intentness. But it was clear the thing puzzled him, as well it might, and he shook his grizzled head as if he despaired of solving the problem.

Then he escorted the blacks around his village, showing them the various huts and storehouses for fruits and grain; and while they were thus occupied the princess came nearer and leaned again upon the side of the car, Moit and I being seated within it.

“If you are slaves,” she said, in a low voice, “I will befriend you. Do not fear, but call on Ilalah if you meet trouble or enemies threaten you.”

“Thank you, sweet Princess,” replied Duncan. “We may be slaves at present, but soon we shall be free. We fear no danger.”

She nodded, brightly, as if the answer reassured her, and walked away to enter the palace, her train of attendants following at a respectful distance.

Ogo and his villagers stood several paces away, silent and motionless. When the king returned with his “noble” guests he noticed the chief and at once dismissed him, telling him to return to his village and be vigilant until the visitors had departed from their dominions.

Ogo promptly departed, but not without a final glance of hatred at the inventor and me. Then the king, with many expressions of friendship, retired into his palace, and Bry and Nux were again permitted to join us.

“Let us put up the top,” said I, “so that we may talk without being overheard.”

We drew up the sections of the glass dome and fastened them in place, while the natives looked on with renewed curiosity. Then, quite alone although we could see anything that happened around us, we sat at our ease and canvassed the situation.

“If you fellows had been with us,” said Moit, “I would have run away with the princess and held her as hostage to secure our safe return to the ship.”

“Would you have let her go then?” I enquired, mischievously.

He did not deign to reply.

“We could not abandon Bry and Nux, though,” I continued, more seriously, “so there is nothing to regret.”

Bry seemed very thoughtful.

“We in bad box, Mars’ Sam,” he said in his broken English, which contrasted so strongly with the ease with which he expressed himself in his own tongue; “dat king is old fox, sure ’nough, an’ won’t let us go ’way from here to get de di’monds.”

“He seemed to treat you and Nux very politely, I thought.”

“All seem, Mars’ Sam; no be.”

“But isn’t he friendly? Didn’t he break bread with you?”

“Dat don’t ’mount to nuffin, seh. If a friend lie to him, he frien’ship is broke.”

“Well, Bry; what then?”

“He know I lie to him.”

“What makes you think so?”

“He make de chalk mark.”

“But how could he know you were lying?”

“His people see our wreck ship, when we not see dem. Dey see from de trees me cook de breakfas’ an’ Nux wait on de white folks. Dey see Mars’ Dunc put de machine in de ribber, an’ we-all ride away on it. Ev’yt’ing de king know befo’ we come an’ lie to him. He know we fin’ de body in de canoe, an’ bury dead man in ribber. He know dead man wanted di’monds, so he kill him. He think we want di’monds, too; so he kill us if he can.”

This was indeed a gloomy prophecy. I had no doubt my man had put the exact truth clearly before us. Our folly in imagining we could so easily deceive these clever Indians was all too evident.

“I noticed that Nalig-Nad seemed suspicious and unbelieving,” I remarked, after a period of silence during which we sat staring despondently into one another’s faces. “He was telling himself all the time, perhaps, that we were fools, and he had us in his power. Only once was he at all disturbed, and that was when Nux threatened to ‘explode’ him and his people. He is not quite sure that we cannot do that.”

“Nor am I,” said Duncan Moit, musingly.

“But they must know about fire-arms, and Maurice Kleppisch wrote in his book that they despised them,” I observed.

“Fire-arms do not explode people. I did not refer to them,” Moit returned. “But, tell me: if these natives are aware of our imposture, what is the use of keeping up the game? Let us get hold of the girl, make a dash for the diamonds, and then escape the best way we can.”

“The girl!” I exclaimed, as if surprised; “why should you want the girl when, as you say, we defy the natives and no hostage will be required?”

Moit looked confused.

“She knows the country,” he said, after a moment, “and would make a good guide.” Then he glanced up at me and added, more honestly: “She’s very nice and pretty, Sam.”

“She’s a darling, old man; I agree with you there. But it strikes me that to capture the princess and run away with her would be to stir up no end of a rumpus. We cannot run the machine through the tangled forests, so the only way to get back is by the river—the same way we came. The king could assemble a thousand warriors to oppose us, and the chances are he’d win out.”

“Well, what shall we do?” he asked; “fight it out?”

“Of course.”

“Got to fight, anyhow,” remarked Nux, philosophically.

“And we may as well keep up the fable of our being slaves to Nux and Bry,” I added. “They may know a good deal by observation, but the chances are they have guessed at a lot; so as long as we pretend to be two black kings and two white slaves they haven’t any good excuse for attacking us.”

During the afternoon several chiefs arrived at the village, coming in one by one as if from different parts of the country. All had more or less green in their robes, and they were a lot of remarkably shrewd and imposing looking fellows. We decided that they had been summoned by the king to a conference concerning us, for after pausing in the enclosure to take accurate note of our appearance and study the queer machine in which we were seated, they passed on into the royal dwelling.

Toward evening we prepared our supper, while many of the inhabitants came to watch us through our glass case. Presently some one rapped softly upon the glass, and going to the place I saw a woman standing there and holding out a basket made of rushes. I opened a window near and took in the basket.

“Ilalah sends it to the big white slave,” said the woman, in her native dialect.

“The big white slave thanks Ilalah and sends her his love in return,” I answered, laughing. But she nodded and turned away with a serious countenance, as if the message was no more than she had expected.

I handed the basket to Duncan and gave him the message of the princess. His face lighted up and he blushed like a school-boy, but made no comment.

In the basket were some fresh eggs and a roasted fowl that resembled a pheasant in size and flavor. We cooked the eggs over our alcohol stove and blessed the girl for her thoughtfulness, for her contribution was a grateful addition to our tinned foods.

As darkness came on we lighted our lamps and drew our curtains and after a little further discussion as to our future actions we lay down upon our blankets and prepared to pass a second peaceful night in the heart of the enemy’s country.

It must have been about midnight when I was awakened by a strange crackling sound. For a moment I lay still, wondering what it could be; then I sprang up and opened one of the little windows.

Dense smoke was rising all around the automobile, and thrusting out my head I saw a mass of flames underneath us. I drew back quickly, my eyes smarting from the smoke, and closed the orifice.

The interior of the car was now dimly illumined by a dull red glow. Moit was sitting up when I reached out to touch him.

“What is it?” he asked sleepily.

“They have built a great bonfire underneath us,” I answered. “Will it be likely to do any damage?”

He shook his head.

“All the harm it could possibly do would be to melt the rubber of the tires, and as they are vulcanized I do not believe any open fire would be powerful enough,” he said. “But it may get rather close and warm for us to sleep, so we will move on a bit.”

He reached for the lever and the machine started and slowly moved over the blazing logs, bouncing us around somewhat but creating no other discomfort. By raising the curtain in front Duncan could see when we were at a safe distance from the fire, so he stopped about twenty yards away and we prepared to lie down again.

“Some one ought to stand watch,” said the inventor; “for if we are sound asleep while they are wide awake they may get into more dangerous mischief than building bonfires.”

We cheerfully agreed to so necessary a precaution, and I was glad to find myself selected for the first watch, because by that time I had become as wakeful as an owl. When the others returned to their blankets I settled myself comfortably on a seat and listened intently for the slightest sound that might indicate danger.

Presently I heard another crackling, from which it appeared that our unseen foes had dragged the blazing logs toward us and were making another effort to burn our stout metal car. So I aroused Duncan, and this time we moved around to the other side of the enclosure, halting close to a wing of the king’s house. For while the car itself could not burn, a good bed of coals under us would convert it into a frying-pan, and we had no mind to sizzle and brown for the entertainment of the San Blas.

Perhaps it was a fear of setting the royal palace on fire that deterred our enemies from annoying us further; for after this second move we were not molested and my comrades were allowed to finish their sleep in comfort.

CHAPTER XII
WAR IS DECLARED

Next morning we made an unpleasant discovery.

When we brought the automobile around to the front of the house again we found that during the night the natives had bricked up the entrance arch to a height of some four feet above the ground, using blocks of baked clay cemented together with some preparation that we were not familiar with.

This action was intended to imprison the automobile within the wall and prevent our running out on another excursion, as we had the day before.

At first sight it appeared that the device was successful. A small hut had been torn down to provide the material, and the blocks were thick and hard as rock.

Duncan frowned as he looked at the barrier, and remarked:

“Then it is to be war.”

“I knew that last night,” said I, “when they tried to smoke us out or burn us up.”

“Let us give them a good volley from our revolvers,” he suggested, angrily.

“Don’ do dat, seh,” said Bry, earnestly. “Wait first till dey shoot arrows. We make b’lieve we frien’s as long as we can. It gives us time to think what we do.”

“Evidently,” said I, “the council of chiefs has advised the king to make short work of us. We have probably been condemned already, and all that now holds them in check is their uncertainty of the best way to vanquish us.”

“They are a little awed by our wonderful powers, I am sure,” declared Moit.

“Quite probable,” I replied. “Is there any way to get over that wall, Duncan?”

He did not answer at once, but looked reflectively at the archway.

“We can leave this place tomorrow morning,” said he, finally; “but I do not see how we can accomplish the feat before then. Do you imagine we can hold the natives at bay another day?”

“We can try,” I said as cheerfully as I could.

But the prospect was not an enticing one, and I began to bitterly regret our folly in ever entering a place wherein we could be so easily imprisoned.

“If we get out,” said Nux, “then we mus’ fight our way all time. If we bold an’ quick, we get away all right.”

Nux didn’t speak often, but his judgment was pretty good.

“I want those diamonds,” I said; “and I’m going to have them. If we go back empty-handed we have made a failure of the expedition.”

“To let a lot of ignorant natives triumph over the greatest invention of the century is absurd—it’s fairly criminal!” added Moit. “I’m not afraid to tackle the whole San Blas nation in this car.”

“Too bad you didn’t make it a man-o’-war,” said I, with a laugh. “If we had a gattling gun aboard we’d have everything our own way.”

We raised the curtains, and while Bry openly got the breakfast ready I took careful note of our surroundings.

Some twenty warriors, armed with spears, and bows, were in sight, lounging in doorways or leaning silently against the various buildings. They were watching us closely, no doubt; but there was no open attempt to attack us as yet.

After a brief conference we decided not to put down the top again, as the San Blas might take a notion to shoot at any time, and their arrows, while they might not penetrate the netted glass of the dome, might mow us down quickly if we were exposed to them.

But I did not like to acknowledge that we were afraid, either; so I let down the steps and opened the rear door, and Bry and Nux and myself all descended to the ground and grouped ourselves carelessly near the car, leaving Moit alone in the machine.

As soon as we appeared the natives began to come nearer, in a curious observant crowd. Then one who was doubtless a chief came forward and said that the King Nalig-Nad desired his brother kings to attend him at once in his palace.

“In our country,” answered Bry, gravely, “it is the custom when kings meet to honor each other in turn. Yesterday we waited upon Nalig-Nad; today he must wait upon us.”

“But he is the great King of the Techlas!” protested the other, as if amazed that the command could be disregarded.

“And we are the mighty Kings of Tayakoo, which numbers more people than the leaves of the forest,” replied Bry, drawing himself up proudly and frowning upon the other. “Take your master our answer, slave!”

The fellow obeyed; but the king was in no hurry to come.

His daughter arrived, though, fresh and beautiful as a rose in bloom, and the natives made way for her as she pressed through the group.

“A greeting to my friends!” she said in English, and peered into the car in search of Duncan Moit.

“Enter, Princess,” said I, holding open the door.

She accepted the invitation frankly, and Duncan took her hand and pressed it to his lips as an old time courtier would have done. She was very sweet and lovely, this Indian maiden, and I did not blame the inventor for worshipping her as he evidently did.

“You cannot today with me run away,” she said, laughing and pointing a slender finger at the barricade.

“You are wrong, Ilalah,” answered Moit, smiling into her fair face. “When I wish to go the walls cannot stop me. But we would like to stay another day in your village.”

She became serious at this. Thinking someone in the crowd might understand the English language as well as she did, I motioned to Nux and Bry to enter the car, and I followed them and closed the door.

“Listen, then,” she said, seeming to be glad of the seclusion. “The king, who is my father, is angry because you have told lies to him. There was a council of the chiefs last night. The white men are to be captured and shot with arrows. The magic machine that is a bird and a fish will be destroyed, and the two black kings may then go free because they speak in our tongue, and are therefore brothers.”

“That is pleasant news,” said Duncan. “When will they do this?”

“To-day, if they can. I was with them at the council. I told them that I loved you, and would make you the mate of the Princess Ilalah. But to that my father would not agree. He says you must die.”

Duncan took her hand and kissed it again, very gratefully and with a look of joy and animation upon his face that fairly transformed it.

“Did not this make you afraid?” I asked the girl, surprised that she seemed to accept her lover’s cruel fate so lightly.

“Oh, no,” she replied. “For the white Chief I love is greater than the San Blas. He will save himself and fly, and I will go with him.”

“Will you?” cried Duncan, earnestly.

“And why not?” she asked, frankly. “Will the doe leave the stag she has chosen? Could I be happy or content without my white chief?”

“Here is a case of love at first sight, with a vengeance!” I said, greatly amused at the girl’s bold declaration. But Moit frowned upon me angrily and his eyes flashed.

“Shut up, you pig!” he growled, and suddenly I felt ashamed of myself for not better appreciating the maiden’s brave honesty.

“Is there no way, Ilalah, to make your father wait until to-morrow morning?” he asked, turning again toward the girl.

“Why should he wait?” she returned.

“I have summoned mighty powers to my assistance,” declared Moit, after a moment’s thought, “and it would please me to await their arrival. It will make me stronger; but I am not afraid if your people begin the war at any time.”

“And to-morrow morning?”

“Then, at daybreak, you must come to me, and we will go away and leave your people.”

“That is good,” she said, joyfully. “I will try to make my father wait, and to-morrow I will give up my power to go with my white chief.”

“What is your power, Ilalah?” asked Duncan, puzzled by the expression.

“After my father, I am the ruler of the Techlas, which you call the San Blas. When the king dies, I am queen, with power of life and death over my people. But the king my father hates white men, who may not live if they enter his kingdom, so I must go with my mate to another country where the king does not hate him, or to his own country, where he will rule.”

This willing abdication of a throne for the sake of a man whom she had known only for a day aroused my wonder. But I could not fail to admire the girl’s courage, and indeed to rule the San Blas was no great privilege, in my estimation.

“If your father makes war to-day,” said Duncan, “fly here to me at once. Then, if I escape, we will never more be separated.”

She promised readily to do this, and leaving the car rejoined her women and moved away to enter the palace.

I noticed that while she had abandoned all—her life, her prejudices and her kingdom—for her white lover, Duncan Moit had promised nothing in return except that they would not be separated. The thought made me sorry for the poor maid; but it was none of my affair.

Bye and bye the king came out, followed by his chief men and counsellors, in an imposing group.

As he approached, Bry and Nux again descended from the car and stood by the steps, and I followed and took up a position just behind them. Duncan, as before, remained inside. We were all prepared to act quickly in an emergency, but our plan was to secure a truce in some way until another morning. I could not understand why Moit desired the delay so earnestly, but was willing to assist him to obtain it.

The king was plainly annoyed at the refusal of the black kings to come into his dwelling. His face still wore its calm expression but his eyes snapped ominously.

“My brothers,” said he, “we do not like your white slaves. Years ago the whites wronged the Techlas most cruelly, and the law of our nation is to put all white people to death who enter our country. I am sorry to take away your property, but the slaves must die.”

“My brother,” answered Bry, “see how much more we love you than you love us. We could kill you in a flash, even where you stand. We could destroy your village and all your people. If we so desired, there would be no more a nation of Techlas on the face of the earth. But we let you live, because we have called you our friend. To break that friendship would be to destroy yourselves. I beg you will not again ask us to give up our slaves to your cruel and unjust vengeance.”

It did me much good to watch Nalig-Nad’s face. He did not like to risk defying the unknown power of the strangers, but if his own authority was thus ignored he would hereafter be a king only in name. Some of his chiefs were glancing at one another significantly, while others were clearly uneasy at our domineering attitude.

I stood with my hands in the pockets of my jacket and a grin of amusement on my face when the king’s roving eyes suddenly observed me. I suppose his forbearance could not withstand the white boy’s audacity, for he raised his hand and at the signal a coil of rope shot through the air and a loop settled over my body and clutched me firmly around the chest.

Instantly I was jerked from my feet and dragged into the group of warriors, all of whom, as if the action had been preconcerted, sprang forward with their spears levelled threateningly at Nux and Bry.

CHAPTER XIII
WE LOOK INTO DANGER’S EYES

The capture was so sudden that it took me a moment to collect my wits. Although bruised and bumped to some extent I had not been much hurt, and even before I was jerked to my feet I cried aloud to my men:

“Get into the car and watch out! Don’t mind me. Take care of yourselves.”

They obeyed promptly, but none too soon; for scarcely had they closed the door when a shower of arrows rattled against the dome. All subterfuge and arbitration was now at an end; they had at last “shot the arrow” and we might expect in the future nothing but implacable hatred.

My captors—two stalwart chiefs—having raised me to my feet now held me firmly secured by means of the thong lasso which still encircled my body. The coils pinioned my elbows so closely to my sides that I could not even withdraw my hands from the pockets of my jacket.

They had begun to hurry me toward the king’s house when a roar of dismay broke from the group we had just left. I turned half around and saw that the automobile had made a short circle and was plunging straight at the king and his warriors. Some were wise enough to scatter from its path, but the more dignified hesitated and were bowled over like a company of wooden soldiers and tossed in every direction.

The lightness of the machine prevented many serious casualties, however, and while Duncan chased them here and there, managing the huge automobile with consummate skill, the warriors gathered up the stunned and maimed and, dodging the onslaught as nimbly as they could, fled into the palace and houses where the terrible monster could not follow them.

Forgetting for the moment my own unenviable plight, I laughed heartily at the exhibition until the two chiefs pushed me roughly toward a doorway and so along the narrow hall and into the big courtyard.

Here the chiefs began to gather, muttering angrily at their recent discomfiture and casting upon me glances of such malignity that they had the effect of sobering me effectually.

The king came limping in and dropped upon his bench with a brow like a thundercloud. He had not been much injured, but his royal dignity had suffered a severe blow.

While one man held the loose end of my lasso and guarded me, the others all ranged themselves back of the king, who said, with what appeared to me to be unseemly haste:

“What shall be the fate of the white stranger?”

“Death!” they cried, in a fierce chorus.

“And at once,” added Nalig-Nad. He glanced around him. “To you, Tetch-Tsa, I allow the privilege.”

A stout young fellow with considerable of the royal green in his robe stepped forward with a grim smile and drew his long knife. As I looked at him I clutched with my fingers the handles of the two self-cocking revolvers that were fortunately in my jacket pockets, and which I had been secretly holding when the coil of the lasso settled over me. I was not able to move my arms because of the thong that pressed them against my body, but I pointed the barrel of the right hand weapon as accurately as I could toward my proposed executioner. When he was but a few paces off I blazed away at him.

At the first shot he paused, as if astonished; at the second he threw up his arms and tumbled over.

Instantly I whirled and fired at the man behind, and my position was so awkward and my aim so uncertain that I emptied the chambers of the revolver in quick succession to make sure one bullet would take effect.

He staggered back and released the thong, and even while I loosed the slip-noose I ran toward the hall and made my best speed for the door.

The thong tripped me as it dropped to my feet and I fell just in time to escape a spear that was hurled after me. Another, as I jumped up, slipped past my right ear, and a third slashed my hip. But I fled for dear life and in a jiffy was free of the house and heading across the enclosure toward the automobile.

They saw me coming and opened the door for me to tumble in. A spear crashed into the netted glass just as the door swung into place again, hurled with such force that its point stuck half way into the car and taught us we were not so secure within the dome as we had imagined. But now I lay panting upon the floor while Bryonia emptied a couple of revolvers into the crowd of my pursuers and brought them to an abrupt halt.

“Getting a little warm,” remarked Duncan Moit, calmly. “I’m not sure, Sam, whether we can stick out the day or not.”

“Glad you escape, Mars’ Sam!” said Nux, bending over me. “Bad hurt?”

“I guess not,” I answered, still breathing hard.

The black unfastened my clothing, which was saturated with blood just over the left hip. The spear had cut an angry looking gash in the flesh as a passing reminder of what it might do if better aimed, but fortunately the wound was not deep and on account of its location would cause me little trouble beyond a slight stiffness. Nux began to dress it as well as he could by tearing up a shirt for bandages and applying plenty of sticking plaster from the supply we had brought with us. I thought he made a very good job of it, being somewhat skilled in the treatment of flesh wounds myself.

I could imagine how furious the San Blas would be at my escape. They did not venture out into the open space after these two repulses, but hung around the doorways in an alert and vigilant way, being very sure that we could not get out of the enclosure and would be unable to defy them for any length of time.

Duncan rather expected the princess to appear, as she had promised in case of open warfare; but either she did not consider the emergency had yet arisen or she had been prevented from acting as she wished.

“I won’t go without her, though,” he muttered, decidedly.

“Tell me,” said I, “what is your object in wanting to wait until to-morrow before escaping from here? I can’t see that another day will bring any better condition to our captivity, and it’s a settled fact that we can’t get the machine out of this enclosure, in any event.”

“Perhaps I ought to explain,” he began, and then paused for a long time, as if absorbed in deep thought.

“Take your time, Duncan,” I remarked, impatiently.

He did not notice the sarcasm, but my voice aroused him and he said:

“Perhaps you remember that I once told you I used a glycerine explosive of my own invention to prime the engines of this automobile. In starting, a tiny drop is fed into the cylinders to procure the air compression which furnishes the motive power.”

“I remember; go ahead.”

“The feeding chamber is supplied with enough of this explosive to run the machine a year or more,” he continued; “but when I made it, in my own laboratory, the apparatus required was so complicated and expensive that I decided to manufacture an extra supply, to use in other machines which I intended to build later.”

“I see.”

“This reserve supply, in a powerfully concentrated form, I now have with me.”

“Oh! Isn’t it dangerous, old man?” I asked, glancing around uneasily.

“Properly applied it might blow all Panama to atoms,” he returned vaguely. “But it cannot be accidentally exploded while it remains in the place I have provided for it.”

“Where is that?”

He reached down and removed a square trap in the floor of the car. Leaning over, I discovered a small cylindrical jar, having the capacity of about a quart, which was suspended at one side of the driving shaft. The straps that held it in place allowing it to swing in any direction with the movement of the machine, but any sudden jar was impossible.

“Is it like nitro-glycerine?” I asked, eyeing the cylinder with an involuntary shudder.

“Not at all,” replied the inventor, calmly closing the trap again. “It is a much more powerful explosive, in its concentrated form, but may be diluted to any strength desired. The mechanism I have invented for its application renders it perfectly harmless when exploded in atomic quantities in the engines, although ordinary concussion would, as in the case of nitro-glycerine, explode the condensed contents of the extra cylinder.”

“I think I now comprehend your idea,” said I.

“Yes, it is very simple. Under cover of darkness I propose to bore a hole in that barrier and fill it with my explosive. In the morning I will blow up the wall and in the excitement that follows run the machine through the gap and escape.”

“Very good!” I exclaimed, joyfully. “Then all we need do is to keep these Indians at bay until we have an opportunity to do the job.”

“Otherwise,” said he, musingly, “I would have to throw some of the explosive at the wall, and that attempt might prove as dangerous for us as are the fierce San Blas themselves.”

The Indians seemed for some time unwilling to resume the attack. It was the middle of the afternoon before the king sent a messenger from his council chamber to say that all friendship had now ceased and we must consider ourselves completely in his power. If the Senator Nux and the Honorable Bryonia would leave the village alone and on foot, Nalig-Nad would guarantee their safe conduct to the border, and thus they would be permitted to escape. The white men and their devil-machine were alike doomed, and could in no way survive the vengeance of the Techlas. And, unless Nux and Bry abandoned us at once, they must perish with us.

This proposition enabled us to gain the desired respite. Bryonia pretended to consult with Nux and then answered the messenger that they would decide the matter at daybreak the following morning. At that time the final answer of the two kings would be given to Nalig-Nad, and they intimated that they might possibly decide to abandon the miserable whites and save their own skins.

Whether this proposition was satisfactory or not to the king and his council did not appear; but the San Blas evidently decided to wait, for they did not molest us again that day.

As night approached we were somewhat worried lest they should resume the attempts to burn us; but they must have been satisfied of the impossibility of such a proceeding. No bonfires were lighted, which suited our plans admirably.

The moon, however, was brilliant during the first part of the night, and by its rays we could see that watchers were maintained in several places, so we were unable to do more than restrain our impatience as best we might. Moit raised the trap and carefully removed the cylinder that contained the explosive from its suspended position, placing it on the seat beside him. The very sight of the thing filled me with terror, and both Nux and Bry moved as far away from it as possible—as if that would do any good if it went off. But the inventor had handled it so often that he did not fear it as we did, and taking an empty glass bottle that was about as big around as your little finger he unscrewed the cap of the cylinder and calmly filled the bottle from its contents.

I watched him as if entranced, and thought the liquid resembled castor oil in color and consistency. When the bottle was filled Duncan corked it and put it in his inside pocket, afterward replacing the cylinder and strapping it into place.

And now he rummaged in his box of tools and took out a brace and a long bit that was about a half inch in diameter. He also picked out a piece of red chalk and placed that too in his pocket.

We were all ready, now, but had to wait, although the strain began to tell upon our nerves.

Finally the moon passed behind the king’s house and sank so low that the building cast a black shadow over the enclosure, throwing both the automobile and the barricaded archway into intense darkness.

“In an hour more day will break,” whispered Duncan in an anxious voice. “We must work quickly now, or we are lost.”

He started the machine moving so slowly that it merely crept toward the wall. The watchers had doubtless retired, for we heard no sound of movement in the sleeping village.

When we had approached quite near to the barricade Moit softly opened the rear door, left the car, and crawled on hands and knees to the wall. We showed no light at all, and from the automobile I lost sight of our friend altogether.

But presently I could hear the faint sound of the augur as it ground its way into the clay wall. Duncan started at about the middle of the barricade, but bored his hole slanting downward, so that the explosive would run into the cavity without danger of escaping. It did not take him more than a few minutes to complete his task, and before long he was back in the car again, holding the empty bottle before our faces with a smile of satisfaction.

And now the machine crept inch by inch back to its former position, and we were ready for the day to break.

CHAPTER XIV
WE ASTONISH OUR FOES

Slowly the sun arose, and as its first rays lighted the cloudless sky Ilalah came gliding from the palace and sprang lightly up the steps that Duncan had let down in order to receive her. Once she was in the car we all breathed easier, and the inventor especially showed his content and exultation.

“Now let them come!” he cried; and each of us felt that the sooner the suspense was over the better we would like it.

King Nalig-Nad gave us plenty of time, though, and we had breakfast while we waited, the princess accepting her share with gracious enjoyment of a meal quite novel in her experience. She was so unaffected and so charming in her manner that already we began to consider her one of us.

At last the king and his chiefs emerged, and we could see by their stern faces that a climax in our adventure had arrived.

Moit was ready for them. He backed the machine around until it was facing the barricade and as far removed from it as the enclosure would allow. He had made Ilalah crouch low on the floor of the car, so that her people would not discover her presence.

A spokesman advanced from the group of warriors and demanded Bryonia’s promised answer.

I opened a side window and said, boldly and in a loud voice, that we had played with the San Blas people long enough.

“You annoy us with your foolish demands,” I added, “and we cannot bother to remain with you longer. Had you been friendly, we would have favored you; but you are silly children, and so we leave you.”

As I finished speaking Duncan opened the window in front of his steering wheel and aimed a shot from his revolver at the red chalk mark on the barricade that marked the location of the explosive. There was no result, so he fired again, and still again.

The natives, at first furious at my insults, now paused to wonder what the big white slave was shooting at, and I saw that the inventor’s nervousness or lack of marksmanship was likely soon to plunge us into a deal of trouble. Leaping to his side I pushed him away and took careful aim with my own revolver.

A crash that seemed to rend the very air followed. The machine was hurled backward against the king’s palace, from which a rain of mud bricks and bits of wood rattled down upon us, while all the open space of the enclosure was filled with falling debris.

Shrieks of terror and pain followed, while we, who had all been dumped in a heap on the floor of the car, scrambled up and took note of what had happened. The wall had vanished, and only a ragged depression in the earth remained to mark the place where the barricade had lately stood.

None of us was injured, fortunately, and as soon as Duncan had assured himself that Ilalah was alive and unhurt he sprang to the lever and the machine bounded forward and skimmed light as a feather over the littered ground.

I tried to look out and wave an adieu to King Nalig-Nad; but we were off like a shot across the meadows and all I could see was a mass of excited natives rushing here and there in wild confusion.

After fifteen minutes of this terrific speed Moit moderated our pace, for we were miles from the village and pursuit was impossible.

“Where now?” he asked, his voice seeming to indicate that he cared not a rap, since we had managed to escape with the beautiful princess.

“It will be well for us to find that valley of diamonds as soon as possible,” said I, “and secure our plunder before the king can raise the alarm and head us off.”

“All right; where is it?” he demanded.

I produced the map and pointed out the location of the valley, which appeared to lie in a fork of the river, far to the south.

“We are now somewhere to the east of the king’s village,” I observed. “The hilly ground ahead of us rises to small mountains between here and the sea; but if we turn south there is open country clear through to the forest-clad mountain range, and when we reach the forest we can follow its edge until we come to the diamond valley.”

“That is clear enough,” replied Moit, looking over my shoulder.

So we turned south, and presently came to a stream with such steep banks that we could not cross it. The map had not prepared us for this, so we kept to the eastward, endeavoring to find a crossing, until we reached a marsh, and found our wheels sinking into a soft and treacherous bog.

We backed out just in time to avoid serious trouble, and had to go north again, skirting the marsh slowly and with care until we were once more in the hills we had recently left.

This was decidedly annoying, and we appealed to Ilalah.

“Is there not a path from here to the mountains?” I asked.

“Oh, yes;” she said; “there must be many paths.”

“Do you know them?”

“Not to go to them from here. Often I and my women cross to the great forest from our village; but we seldom come here at all.”

“I don’t blame you,” growled Moit. “This part of your country isn’t worth photographing. What shall we do now, Sam?”

“I don’t like to go back,” said I, studying the map with a suspicion that its maker had never been in this section at all. “But we might try these hills. If we could find a path over them it might lead us around the marsh, and then we would be all right.”

“How do you know? There may be more marshes,” he suggested.

“It may be. This is all guess work, it seems—map and all. But if we reached the ocean we could run along the beach at low tide, and make good time.”

“It is certainly worth a trial,” he said; “and if we fail we cannot be any worse off than we are at present.”

I doubted that the automobile would be much of a hill-climber, because until then I had a notion that the heaviest machines, with the most power to move their weight, could climb the easiest. But a few minutes removed that erratic idea from my mind. We skimmed up the slopes as lightly as an ibex, and went down them much more safely than a heavy machine under the strain of brakes could do. And so, winding around this hill and over that, we kept on at an easy pace until the breath of salt air could be felt and we knew we were close to the sea.

But now the hills became rocky and more difficult. One good sized mound stood right in our way, and after a close inspection of it through our telescope (for Moit seemed to have forgotten nothing in fitting up his automobile) we saw a broad ledge running around its right side which promised a way through to the coast.

By now it was after midday, for much time had been consumed in seeking a path through this wild and unknown country. So we halted for luncheon, and as we ate I said to Ilalah:

“How did you learn to speak such fine English, Princess, when your people have always hated the whites and tried to drive them from your dominions?”

“The king my father,” she answered, “is very wise. From his captives he has learned that half of the people of the world speak English. So he thought it would be best for some of the Techlas to speak English too. One day our watchers brought to the king a man and a woman, who were of the English but could speak a little Spanish too. My father promised them life if they would teach us to speak the English tongue. So the man taught the king and his noble chiefs each day in the courtyard of the palace, while the woman taught the foreign tongue to me and my favorite attendants in our own rooms. It was a long task and a hard one, but after many moons some of us could speak and understand the English well enough.”

“Did you also learn to read?” Duncan asked.

“No. My father says written words are lies, for when you read the signs you cannot read the speaker’s eyes and know that he speaks truth. The Techlas do not love the sign language, and will not have it.”

“That is foolish,” I said. “If you cannot read, you cannot know what is going on in the world.”

“And that is what we do not wish to know,” she answered, smiling. “My people say that to hear of other people is to make unhappiness. We live only our own lives; so why should we care what happens in other lives in other countries?”

It struck me there was some sense in that, if their own lives were sufficient to content them.

“What became of the white man and woman who taught you?” asked Duncan.

“After we had learned to speak their tongue my father killed them,” she answered simply.

“Then he, too, lied,” I said.

“Not so. He promised them life if they would teach us, and they lived. But he could not promise them life for all time, because all life is uncertain.”

“So he killed them?”

“Yes; having no longer need for them. They were white, and the Techlas hate all white people.”

“Because of their color?”

“Because they once robbed our people and drove them from their homes.”

“Listen, Ilalah,” said Duncan, earnestly; “the white race that wronged your people was the Spanish race; but there are many whites that are not Spaniards—any more than are all Indians Techlas. So you have no reason to hate us, who are not Spanish and have never wronged you.”

“I do not hate you,” she answered, taking his hand and pressing it fondly. “I love you.”

“But your people do.”