Chapter VI: A Startling Discovery

Night was fast approaching when Curlie Carson, weary from a long day's tramping, threw himself down at the foot of a tamarind tree that shadowed a narrow dried-up stream. He needed rest and time to think. That day he had spent in following the trail of Johnny and the band of natives. Two hours before he had lost the trail. Now he was far, far away from the camp at the Citadel and from his improvised laboratory in the heart of the crumbling old fortress.

Thoughts of his laboratory there all unguarded disturbed him. "He's almost finished," he grumbled to himself. "Be a pity if some natives would get in and wreck him.

"Poor old Mike," he sighed. "All alone in that gloomy old dungeon. But I guess it's safe enough for all that." He chuckled. He was thinking of the fright he had given that native on the rope ladder.

"Same natives that spirited Johnny away." A frown formed on his brow. "Wonder what they've done to him by now? Why couldn't I have followed that trail? Why--"

He broke short off to stare down at the sandy bed of the dried up stream. Did he see the print of a bare foot there! He bent over to look more closely.

"Yes," he told himself, at once alive with fresh hope. "It is a footprint. And there's another, and yet another. They came this way. Hurray! I am on the trail again!"

His joy was short lived. He had not followed the bed of the stream that had been used as a trail a dozen yards before he made a startling discovery. Johnny was no longer with the group of natives. That this was the same group of natives, he did not doubt. Two of these men had peculiar feet, one was nearly clubfooted, the other had lost a big toe. Their footprints in a damp spot registered these peculiarities quite perfectly.

"Can't be mistaken," he told himself. "Question is, what have they done with Johnny?"

To this question he could form no satisfactory answer. One fact stood out plainly: since he had come in search of his friend Johnny Thompson, and since he no longer traveled with this band, there was no longer any reason for following this trail.

"Back track is better," he told himself. "May find some trace of Johnny. At any rate it will lead me back to the Citadel, to camp and my laboratory."

He wondered in a vague sort of way what Dorn and old Pompee would think of his prolonged absence. Would they start out in search of him? He hoped not. Yet one never could tell. He had been gone since early morning. It had been agreed that he should take up the search for Johnny while Dorn and Pompee guarded camp and waited for much needed supplies that Dorn's father had promised to send.

Rising and turning his back on the native trail, he began making his way back down the stream.

He had not gone a quarter of a mile before the trail left the bed of the stream to go branching away up the slope of a wooded hill.

Shadows were falling fast. It would soon be quite dark. As the boy hastened on, a breeze sweeping in from the sea fanned his cheek. It fanned something else; an all but burned out camp fire gleamed out anew.

This sudden flash of red caught the boy's eye. Turning sharply to the right, he took a dozen steps, then paused in sudden astonishment.

As he stood there before the mildly glowing camp fire he fancied himself Robinson Crusoe. On the sands of the beach had he come upon an abandoned cannibal camp?

"And they do say that these Haitian natives, some of them, descended from cannibals and are not too sure to be free from cannibalism," he told himself.

A cold chill ran up his spine. All about him were the evidences of a recently completed feast. Bones and scraps of half roasted flesh were everywhere. He thought of his missing friend and shuddered afresh.

A cloud obscured the setting sun. The world went dark. The boy found himself paralyzed with overpowering fear.

"Nonsense," he managed to stammer. "It--it's no use being foolish. Got--got to get a grip on myself."

With that he gave the camp fire such a kick as sent sparks flying and momentarily lighted up the scene.

Enheartened by this he seized a handful of dry palm leaves to hurl them on the glowing coals. In a moment's time he had a bright fire blazing cheerily.

* * * * * * * *

In the meantime there was consternation at the camp by the Citadel. It was bad enough, Dorn thought, with Johnny Thompson missing. Curlie's continued absence doubled his anxiety. He was for plunging at once into the jungle in search of his lost companions. To this plan Pompee would not agree. "We are but an old man and a boy," he argued. "I am strong, but being old I have not the endurance of youth. The jungle would claim me as its own. And you are too young to care for yourself in so vast a wilderness."

Truth was that Pompee, being black, was very superstitious. The vision he had seen on the Citadel had seemed to him a warning. He would much rather have left the place and gone back to his cabin. But loyalty to his young master forbade this. One thing he could do--he could refuse to lead Dorn into further peril and this he did with all his heart.

To Dorn, held as he was to enforced idleness under the most trying circumstances, the tinkling of a bell that sounded far down the trail was a godsend. He sprang down that trail expecting anything and everything. What he found was a very droll looking donkey, named Midas. Midas was laden with all manner of good things to eat, brought straight from Dorn's own kitchen.

With Midas came Dorn's flaxen-haired cousin Doris. Doris was from the States. She was of French descent but her people had lived so long in America that they had become truly American. Dorn liked Doris; in fact everyone liked her. She had a round, smiling face and laughing blue eyes. A friend never came within hailing distance of her but they heard her cheery "Whoo hoo!" and saw her arm swung high in greeting.

Doris was now in Haiti for a rather long visit, while her father was away in Europe on business, but she had entered so thoroughly into the life of the island that to her friends and relatives she already seemed a part of it.

Both Doris and her dark-eyed cousin Dot, Dorn's sister, had wished to accompany Dorn and his friends on their exploring trip to the Citadel. This, Dot's father would not permit. The best he would allow was an over-night visit when they brought the supplies. It happened that when the day came for leading the drowsy Midas up the mountain with his loaded hampers Dot was much needed in her father's office. So Doris and a native girl, Nieta, had come in her stead. This had brought bitter disappointment to Dot. She had, however, found some comfort in the thought that on the night of Doris' absence she could carry out a secret experiment which she had for a long time contemplated making.

So here was Doris and the dark Nieta. And here too was Midas with his full hampers. And here as well was the marvelous, mysterious Citadel which must be shown to the girls. Dorn had a full day of it with little enough time to think of his missing friends.