Part 6 (2/2)

Robert and I got our packs together, to which we added some small pieces of clothing that I begged of Carlos. Soon we stood all fixed for a long march.

”And now,” said I to Carlos, ”you and Melie are to come a short way with us to bid us goodbye, for it is to be understood that we are going back the way we came. But then you are to keep watch on the brush; and if you hear the whistle of a bird you're to come over quietly and meet us.”

”Yes, yes,” nodded Carlos, comprehending.

And so Carlos and Melie walked with us till we were in the midst of the village; and there we shook hands as we parted, and again waved a goodbye, as we moved out of view, numbers of curious blacks looking on.

When we had gone a mile or more seaward, we turned aside; and from a screen of brush, we watched the path for a quarter of an hour, for possible followers.

”Do you think there were any of the voodoo, there?” questioned Robert at last.

”Perhaps not,” I answered, ”but they'll soon hear of our going.”

We picked a suitable spot in the brush, and set up our dressing room.

Forth came the kinky, black wigs, and paints given us by Jules Sevier.

We worked on one another, turn about. At the end of twenty minutes I set the wig on Robert's head. The result was satisfactory. His color was a dusky brown, all but black. A few minutes drying, and the stain refused to rub off.

”Bob, you are pretty,” I told him. ”I'll defy Rufe to know you.”

”I'll say the same for you, Wayne,” said he. ”Even Ray wouldn't know _you_.”

A jacket and a jumper, and an old hat, got of Carlos, and a twist and turn to Robert's slouch cover, completed our make-up.

Going back, we skirted the village on the west. We came in time into the brush back of the Brill hut.

A whistled bird-call brought Carlos. When he put aside the bush and stepped into view, that moment his face was a picture--his mind contending between the certainty of our ident.i.ty and doubt of his eyes.

”Ah,” he began, ”that is ver' suprise'. How you do it?” And then he must have Melie over to the show.

Carlos had soon got himself ready, and we were off for the hills.

For some miles we kept pretty much in cover as we moved toward the mountains. Carlos knew the way through the forest, where we ofttimes slipped on the moist roots of the great trees, and scrambled amongst the lianas that were everywhere. Two hours had gone when we had our first rest in a clump of cabbage palms.

Towering above us, on a mountain, stood an old abandoned fortress.

Carlos said its walls were a hundred feet high and with a thickness of twenty feet. Our way lay to the eastward of that old stronghold.

Our progress now had us puffing, for it was up-up-up. We kept as much as possible in the glades. Pigeons were plentiful, and we spied a predatory hawk, at which Robert and I got our little rifles out of their cases.

But Carlos put up his hand in caution.

”To shoot is not safe,” said he. ”Sound go ver' far, an' we do not want anyone know some ones is here.”

And then we gave Carlos another turn of surprise. To see a bird fall, and no sound of the gun,--that was beyond reason. He snapped his finger at his ear to make sure he had not lost his hearing.

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