Chapter XVII: Marching on the Castle

Old Samatan was not asleep. He was only thinking. After a time he opened his eyes wide, to stare at the dark shore where drums still beat out their message.

"Make _wanga_," he said to Johnny. "Always when trouble, my people make _wanga_--make prayer to Voodoo gods. Gods help good natives win victories."

"Great!" exclaimed Johnny. "Then we shall win!"

"Yes. Win," the old man said, softly.

Then Johnny told Samatan of the green arrow trail that Mildred had said she would follow. He told of the suddenly broken message he had picked up from the green arrow.

Thinking deeply, Samatan declared they should go very soon--at least a full hour before dawn.

"Shall Dave go, too?" Johnny asked.

"Plenty men on shore," the old man waved an arm. "We go--tell Kennedy. That all. Dave? Better Dave stay."

Half an hour later, Johnny wakened Dave to tell him what was going on. At first Dave was determined to go with them and have a hand in the affair. But after sober thought he decided it best to stay with the ship.

"The ship may be needed before this thing is over," he said.

"Yes, it may," Johnny agreed.

So, guided by native fires on the beach, Johnny and Samatan headed for shore.

Johnny was steeped in gloom as he pictured the golden-haired little beach-comber, the prisoner of unscrupulous spies.

"Nothing could be worse," he groaned. "I should have warned her never to go, alone!"

But the moment their boat touched shore, Johnny's mood changed quickly for the better. Seldom had he witnessed a more inspiring sight. In two short hours, more than a hundred, dark-faced, half-clad, natives had gathered at the call of their beloved Kennedy.

They were squatting around the fires, roasting small fish or strips of peccary meat and gulping cups of bitter, black coffee.

"They will go for a whole day on this," Kennedy told him, "and still be with us when the day is done."

When Johnny told of the green arrow's message and the trail Mildred had sworn to follow, the old man's brow wrinkled.

"I suspected something of the sort," he rumbled, "but this is worse than I figured. There may be a number of those spies--all well armed. And we--" he went on, with a touch of sadness, "these people here are not warlike. We have two heavy rifles of ancient make, half a dozen light, hunting rifles, two or three shotguns, and a hundred machetes. But these natives--" There was a rumble of admiration in his voice. "You should see what these men can do with those two-foot blades of theirs! There are two grindstones out behind the house--and they haven't stopped turning for hours!"

Johnny felt a tingle course through his veins as the old man finished. It was, he thought, like the days of old, like something he had read in a book. They were to storm an ancient castle to rescue a fair lady!

There were men among that loyal throng who knew every trail leading to the old castle.

"The men say it will take about three hours to reach the place," said Kennedy, when just after dawn, they prepared to break camp. "We shall have to march in silence, as sound travels far. I only hope," his brow wrinkled, "that these spies did not guess the meaning of those drums. I hated that. But there was no other way to get the men together, nor," he added in an undertone, "to put the real, fighting spirit into them. For more than a hundred years, the beating of these drums has meant battle!"

"And how they respond to it!" Johnny enthused.

"Yes, Johnny," the old man rumbled. "These are faithful, loyal people. Think what it would mean to have these islands taken over by a foreign power--cannon and bombing planes everywhere. If war came, think how these beautiful islands would be torn to bits by bursting bombs! Just think Johnny! Try to imagine it!"

For a moment after that, there was silence. Kennedy's voice was husky when he spoke again. "Johnny, my boy--I've come to like you a heap. Promise me, Johnny, that if anything should happen to me this day, you'll see the girl safely back to her own land where she rightly belongs."

"Nothing can happen to you," Johnny declared, stoutly. "You could handle four of those cowards, single-handed."

"Promise me," the old man insisted.

"I promise." Johnny put out a hand that was at once caught in a grip of steel.

And so they marched away into the golden, tropical dawn.

* * * * * * * *

Those on the _Sea Nymph_ were on deck early that morning. Coffee and muffins were served in the forward cabin. After Dave told what was happening on land, a silence fell over the party. Active, happy, always friendly, Mildred had found her way into all their hearts.

"Dave," said the professor at last, breaking the silence, "since that fine old man Kennedy is in a good way to lose his granddaughter--"

"Oh, but he won't!" Doris broke in. "Not with Johnny Thompson on the trail of those spies. I had a letter last week from an old friend, Marjory Morrison. She's known our Johnny a long time, and she says he's a marvel!"

"No doubt," said the professor. "But spies, my dear!"

"Spies are cowards," Doris exclaimed. "Just the same--I'd like doing something for those Kennedys!"

"Just what I was about to suggest," the professor beamed. "Manifestly, we can't sail this ship up that mountain but we can go in search of their sunken schooner!"

"Oh, yes!" Doris sprang up. "Let's do that! Anything to help!"

"I know the spot, within a mile," said Dave. "Kennedy showed me on the map. It's not over three miles from here."

"Good! We shall weigh anchor at once," exclaimed the professor. "In the steel ball, Dave, you should be able to locate the schooner in a very short time."

"And then?" asked Dave.

"One problem at a time," smiled the professor, who during his long life had solved many a problem.

Fifteen minutes more and they were away.

"Do you think we shall be able to find their sunken schooner?" Doris asked, as she and Dave stood in the prow, looking at the hills. "That depends," said Dave. "Just now, another problem interests me more."

"And that?"

"Whether that girl, who seems the very spirit of the island, ever will sail that schooner again."

"Never doubt it," said Doris. But in spite of her high hopes, she herself was in grave doubt.

* * * * * * * *

Johnny was never to forget that silent march up the tropical island trail. Before him glided a native guide. Behind him, taking each steep ascent with the quiet, steady breathing of a boy, came the giant Kennedy.

After these marched a silent throng. Their faces and machetes shining in the morning sun, they were a band of simple, honest natives, in whose midst Kennedy long had stood out as king.

A monkey chattered from a tree, but no rifle was aimed at him. A parrot screamed, and over in a narrow ravine, a drove of wild pigs scampered unmolested over the dry moss of the jungle.

"We're seeking bigger game, today," the boy thought, grimly.

Finally they arrived at a point not far distant from the turn, beyond which lay the castle. Kennedy held up a hand, and the men gathered silently about him. In low tones he gave them final instructions.

There were, he said, three trails to the ancient castle. They would divide into three groups. John Puleet, a stalwart native, with his followers, would circle the hill to the right. Teratella, another burly leader of the islanders, would go to the left with his men. Time would be given them to take their positions. When this had been done, a "wild parrot" would scream from the right, another from the left--and they would all move forward.

"We'll take the trail straight ahead, with old Samatan," he said to Johnny. "It's the toughest of them all, if we are attacked."

"O.K." Johnny murmured, gripping his light hunting rifle.

Silently, one by one, a hundred men crept into the brush. After that, save for the chirp of some small bird and the faint sound of a dashing stream, all was silent. It was, Johnny thought, the dead silence that comes before a storm.

Stooping suddenly, he picked something from among the leaves by the trail. It was Mildred's lost handkerchief. He held it out for Kennedy to see, but neither said a word.