Chapter XV: Dreams

Before they began this thrilling flight Doris and Nieta had told their pilot the exact location of their home in the village of Terre Plaisance. Cape Haitian, his own headquarters, was some twenty miles from their home. This distance they had expected to cover on donkeyback or on foot, as circumstance permitted. Imagine their surprise when, as they watched the ever changing panorama that passed beneath them, they began recognizing little hill peaks and dark groves that formed the surroundings of their own little village and not Cape Haitian at all.

"Surely," Doris said to herself, with a little intake of breath, "he would not attempt to land in our garden, or the village street. That would be impossible."

As for Nieta she was busy whispering to her snake-tooth charm, for she expected nothing else than that they would go crashing into some rocky hillside or plunging into the forest.

The plane circled once. It circled again, this time much lower. A third time they circled, so low that Doris could count the tiny flower beds in the garden. For a half minute she held her breath, then like some wild fowl that circling has failed to find water, the plane shot upward and away.

Curlie Carson and Dot heard the drumming of the plane and wondered at its presence there.

"I have never seen a plane here before," said Dot.

"Perhaps," said Curlie, "they have had some word of the revolution that is brewing and are on the lookout for the rebel camp."

"I doubt it," said Dot. "I--

"But look!" she broke short off to stand staring. "They're coming down. They--they'll crash!" She put both hands over her eyes to shut out the sight. But of this there was no need, for the plane disappeared silently behind the distant treetops.

"Come on!" said Curlie, seizing her by the hand and dragging her down the trail. "They can't be far away. They may be injured--dying. The plane may be on fire."

Then madly, recklessly, heedless of bruises and scratches, they went racing, scrambling, rolling, tumbling down the hillside.

"We--we must be half way there," Curlie said, panting.

Again he paused to puff. "Can't be far now."

Imagine their surprise when, as they parted the branches of a low palm tree, they came upon an open, uncultivated field and saw in the midst of that field an airplane resting safely upon its landing wheels.

"Of all things!" said Dot.

"And there are girls," said Curlie. "Two of them."

"That," said Dot, sitting down upon the ground with alarming suddenness, "is Doris and Nieta. Nice trick they played on us."

"I've heard of them but never met them," said Curlie, offering the girl his hand. "Suppose you take me over and give me an introduction."

A half hour later, after many a laugh and much introducing and explaining, when the gallant young pilot had flown away the four young people, Doris, Dot, Johnny and Curlie, marched away toward the village of Terre Plaisance, which was now but a comfortable walking distance away.

* * * * * * * *

"Curlie," said Johnny, late that night, as they sat with their feet on a broad window sill, looking through a great window to a scene of matchless beauty, tropical flowers, waving fronds and a sky sprinkled with stars, "Curlie, old boy, a fellow could almost settle down to something like this. I've never seen anything quite like it, have you?"

"No," said Curlie, "I haven't. I've been in the northern wilds. Too cold up there. I've seen the Amazon country. Too hot. Too humid. Too many bugs. But here--look out there. Sense it all, the night, the perfume of flowers, the stars."

Perhaps they thought too of the girls who had left them but a short half hour before. Their dresses that night had formed a strange contrast to that worn in the bush. Khaki had been replaced by filmy things of brilliant color. Doris had been dressed in pink and old rose; Dot in dark blue and a glorious orange hue. Together they had played low, haunting native airs on banjo and ukulele, while the palms accompanied them with the ever restless rustle of the mysterious jungle.

"Yes," said Curlie, "we could almost do it, but not quite. Only one thing keeps us from it."

"What's that?"

"The existence of a mystery yet unsolved."

"Yes--many mysteries."

"And so," Curlie yawned, "we'd better turn in, for to-morrow is another day."