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<body>
<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Sign of the Green Arrow, by Roy J. (Roy
Judson) Snell</h1>
<p class="pg">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at <a
href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></p>
<p class="pg">Title: Sign of the Green Arrow</p>
<p class="pg"> A Mystery Story</p>
<p class="pg">Author: Roy J. (Roy Judson) Snell</p>
<p class="pg">Release Date: February 2, 2014 [eBook #44824]</p>
<p class="pg">Language: English</p>
<p class="pg">Character set encoding: UTF-8</p>
<p class="pg">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIGN OF THE GREEN ARROW***</p>
<p> </p>
<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by<br />
Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan,<br />
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
(http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
<p> </p>
<hr class="full" />
<p> </p>
<div class="img">
<img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Sign of the Green Arrow" width="500" height="683" />
</div>
<div class="img">
<img src="images/icover.jpg" alt="Sign of the Green Arrow" width="500" height="723" />
</div>
<div class="box">
<p class="center"><span class="large"><b><i><span class="u">A Mystery Story</span></i></b></span></p>
<h1>SIGN OF THE
<br />GREEN ARROW</h1>
<p class="center"><i>By</i>
<br />ROY J. SNELL</p>
<div class="img" id="logo"><img src="images/logo.jpg" alt="Author’s Logo" width="200" height="91" /></div>
<p class="tbcenter">Reilly & Lee
<br /><span class="small">Chicago</span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="small">COPYRIGHT 1939
<br />BY
<br />REILLY & LEE
<br />PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.</span></p>
</div>
<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
<dl class="toc">
<dt class="jr"><span class="jl"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></span> <span class="small">PAGE</span></dt>
<dt><a href="#c1">I “This is Our Secret”</a> 11</dt>
<dt><a href="#c2">II Spooky Waters</a> 22</dt>
<dt><a href="#c3">III A Bright Eyed Beach-Comber</a> 34</dt>
<dt><a href="#c4">IV Spies</a> 46</dt>
<dt><a href="#c5">V Whispering Depths</a> 54</dt>
<dt><a href="#c6">VI Real Progress!</a> 73</dt>
<dt><a href="#c7">VII Mystery Singers of the Night</a> 82</dt>
<dt><a href="#c8">VIII Monster of the Deep</a> 96</dt>
<dt><a href="#c9">IX Dave’s Electric Gun</a> 105</dt>
<dt><a href="#c10">X Little Big-Heads</a> 115</dt>
<dt><a href="#c11">XI Tigers of the Sea</a> 125</dt>
<dt><a href="#c12">XII Johnny’s Day Off</a> 136</dt>
<dt><a href="#c13">XIII The Green Arrow Trail</a> 150</dt>
<dt><a href="#c14">XIV An Important Discovery</a> 161</dt>
<dt><a href="#c15">XV Adrift in the Depths</a> 167</dt>
<dt><a href="#c16">XVI Voice of Drums</a> 174</dt>
<dt><a href="#c17">XVII Marching on the Castle</a> 183</dt>
<dt><a href="#c18">XVIII The Battle</a> 192</dt>
<dt><a href="#c19">XIX On the Bottom</a> 204</dt>
</dl>
<div class="pb" id="Page_11">[11]</div>
<h1 title="">SIGN OF THE GREEN ARROW</h1>
<h2 id="c1"><span class="small">CHAPTER I</span>
<br />“THIS IS OUR SECRET.”</h2>
<p>It was midnight. Johnny Thompson paced
the deck of the <i>Sea Nymph</i> alone. He would
be doing this until daybreak. The tropical night
was glorious. There was a faint breeze—just
enough to ripple the waters where the phosphorescent
light thrown off by a million tiny
creatures rivaled the stars above.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_12">[12]</div>
<p>“Spooky,” he thought, meditatively. “Out
here all alone with the night.... Natives over
there.” He faced the east, where dark green
hills loomed out of the water. Over there was
a small island. Johnny never had been there.
Some time he’d get into a canoe and paddle
over. Earlier in the evening he had seen a light,
a white man’s light, he had thought, without
knowing why. He—</p>
<p>His thoughts were interrupted by someone
moving, up forward. Or was there? He had
supposed they all were asleep—the strange old
man, bony and tall, with goggle eyes and heavy
glasses, the tall young man and the blonde girl.
They all had berths forward. The captain and
mate were aft; the native crew, below deck.
There was no need for any of the crew, now.
The boat was anchored. Only he, Johnny
Thompson, was needed, to keep watch for
prowlers of the sea, or signs of a storm.</p>
<p>It was strange, this new job. He was not sure
just what these people were planning—some
scientific expedition, he thought. The ship’s
outfit was rather irregular, but he had been
glad of the chance to sign up as watch. He
loved the sea.</p>
<p>“Someone—” he said to himself, “—is moving,
up there.” He started forward, cautiously.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_13">[13]</div>
<p>He had covered only half the hundred and
twenty-five foot length of deck when suddenly
he beheld the girl of the party.</p>
<p>“Walking in her sleep,” Johnny thought, with
a touch of alarm. But she wasn’t.</p>
<p>“Hello!” She poked a hand from beneath her
midnight-blue dressing gown. “It’s too swell a
night to sleep.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Johnny agreed.</p>
<p>“You’re not a regular watch, are you?” she
asked.</p>
<p>“That—er—” Johnny hesitated. “That’s not
my regular job. Nothing is. Does that matter?”</p>
<p>“No, I suppose not. Anyhow nothing could
happen, here.”</p>
<p>“Plenty could happen,” he contradicted,
quietly.</p>
<p>“How do you know?”</p>
<p>“I’ve been in the Tropics before. Natives get
ugly sometimes. They imagine white men are
getting the best of them—which, for the most
part, they are!” Johnny laughed. “Then there
are storms,” he went on. “Wildest place for
storms you’ve ever seen. Once I drifted before
a storm for thirty-six hours in a boat just
about like this, only—” he hesitated, “it was
different.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_14">[14]</div>
<p>“Yes,” the girl laughed, “it must have been,
as there’s not another boat quite like this in
all the world, I guess. It—</p>
<p>“Look!” she exclaimed softly, pointing toward
the distant island. “What’s that strange
light?”</p>
<p>“Light?” Johnny spun round. “Oh! Say—that
<i>is</i> strange! It’s green. A green light.”</p>
<p>“Like an arrow,” the girl whispered. “Green
arrow of the Tropics. Quite romantic! But
what can it be?”</p>
<p>“It’s not for us,” said Johnny. “It—it seems
to blink. Wait!”</p>
<p>Retracing his steps he went to a box of life-preservers
where he had left his heavy field
glass. He returned quickly to her side.</p>
<p>“Now,” he invited, “have a look!” He held
the glass in position for her.</p>
<p>“It—it <i>does</i> blink,” she murmured. “It’s like
an electric sign. Some lights go off; others go
on!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_15">[15]</div>
<p>“Let’s see.” Johnny took the glass. “Why—it’s
some sort of signalling,” he decided at once.
“But not for <i>us</i>!”</p>
<p>Instinctively they turned to scan the sea.</p>
<p>“There’s no other boat out there,” said Johnny.
“At least there wasn’t any at sunset. If
one had moved in, we’d see the light.”</p>
<p>“If there were a light,” whispered the girl,
“how gorgeously mysterious it’d be. How—</p>
<p>“Look!” she exclaimed. “Do you see it? A
green arrow out there on the sea?”</p>
<p>“No—oo,” Johnny said, after a moment of
gazing. “I can’t see it. Must have been a reflection
of that other light. That often happens,
you—”</p>
<p>“No!” The girl said, emphatically. “There!
I saw it again!”</p>
<p>“Perhaps I’m color-blind,” said Johnny after
another long look. “But I just don’t see it!”</p>
<p>At that he turned around to continue his
study of that land light.</p>
<p>“It’s strange,” he murmured. “I can’t quite
count the lights, but they <i>do</i> go on and off.
Irregularly, too. It must be a signal. But what
are they saying?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_16">[16]</div>
<p>“And to whom?” the girl added.</p>
<p>“Well,” she sighed a moment later, “we’ll not
learn the answer, at least not tonight. Because
it’s gone!”</p>
<p>“So it is,” said Johnny, after a long look at
the island.</p>
<p>“Sha—shall we tell them?” he asked after a
moment.</p>
<p>“Who? Grandfather and Dave? Oh—why
should we? It can’t be anything that affects
us! Let’s keep it for our own little secret. Perhaps
we’ll solve the riddle—”</p>
<p>“All right,” Johnny agreed, readily. There’s
a queer girl for you, he was thinking. She’d be
lots of fun, though.</p>
<p>“Is the elderly man your grandfather?” he
asked.</p>
<p>“Yes. Professor Casper’s his name. Only wish
I knew as much as he does. My name’s Doris—Doris
Casper.” She put out her hand. “I—I’ll
be seeing you. Good night. And don’t forget—it’s
our secret—sign of the green arrow!”</p>
<p>She was gone.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_17">[17]</div>
<p>“Sign of the green arrow,” Johnny whispered,
softly. “Perhaps I <i>should</i> report it to the professor.
And then again—perhaps I shouldn’t.
It can’t have a thing to do with this boat,
and it’s entirely out of my line of duty. The
girl wants to share a secret. Most girls do, in
fact. So why not?”</p>
<p>With that, for the present at least, the whole
affair was dismissed from his mind.</p>
<p>Half an hour later he found himself sitting
alone on the after deck, glancing away at those
dim, mysterious shores, and thinking back over
the events that had led up to this mildly exciting
night.</p>
<p>Two months before, he had found himself
in New York wanting a job, and not able to
find one. After three weeks of trying he had
grown somewhat bitter about the whole thing.</p>
<p>“I’m intelligent,” he had said to a prospective
employer. “I’ve always worked. I like it.
Why shouldn’t I have a chance?”</p>
<p>“Why not?” the grey haired man had replied
sadly. “I’ve asked that question often, but I
don’t know the answer. I only know we can’t
use another man.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_18">[18]</div>
<p>That very afternoon, while watching boats
moving out to sea, Johnny had his chance, and
took it. He caught sight of a young man,
struggling toward a gang-plank under a heavy
load.</p>
<p>“Give you a lift?” he had volunteered,
courteously.</p>
<p>“Whew! Yes.” The man mopped his brow.
“Looking for a dime?”</p>
<p>“Not yet!” Reddening, Johnny impulsively
jerked a few small bills from his pocket. “Not
broke, yet.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” The man looked at him with interest.
“Say!” he exclaimed. “I shouldn’t wonder if
you’d do!”</p>
<p>“For what?” the boy asked.</p>
<p>“I’m off to the Spanish Main to take pictures—native
life, ancient ruins, and all that.
There’s a lot of stuff to lug, and—” he hesitated,
“perhaps a fight to step into now and
then! Want to go?”</p>
<p>“<i>Do</i> I?” Johnny grabbed the two largest
bags.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_19">[19]</div>
<p>“There’s no money in it! Just experience and
expenses.”</p>
<p>“All right! What are we waiting for?” Johnny
led the way up the gang-plank.</p>
<p>All that had been two months before and
what wonderful months those had been! Sailing
from island to island, they had taken pictures
of quaint, native homes, of native women
with flashing eyes, of ancient buccaneer cannon,
fast rusting to nothingness. There had
been three exciting fights, with men who had
thought they were intruding. In one of these,
a machete had come within a fraction of an
inch of Johnny’s ear. He seemed to feel the
cool swish of it now.</p>
<p>Then, he thought with a sigh, those golden
days had ended. Lee Martin, the photographer,
had been called back to New York.</p>
<p>“You keep the stuff,” Lee had said to Johnny.
“You may be able to get some unusual
pictures. If you do—send ’em home to me. I’ll
see what I can make out of ’em, for you.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_20">[20]</div>
<p>Johnny had watched Lee’s boat fade into the
distance. Then, with heavy heart, he had
marched back to his lodgings in Port au
Prince, the capital of the Island Republic of
Haiti.</p>
<p>That very day he had noticed the <i>Sea
Nymph</i>, located the man in charge, and signed
up as watch. His photographic equipment was
in his stateroom. He had laid in a good supply
of film packs and plates. Would he find
opportunity to use them? Would he get some
unusual pictures to send to Lee Martin? Time
was to answer all these questions in its own
way....</p>
<p>“It’s a strange layout,” he thought, as he
took a turn about the deck. “I suppose I’ll
know what it’s all about before long.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_21">[21]</div>
<p>It was indeed a strangely equipped craft. A
three-master, with an auxiliary motor for bad
weather, the <i>Sea Nymph</i> had been built for
island trade. Since the bottom had dropped out
of the sugar market, she had been lying idle
in the harbor. Without making many changes,
the elderly professor had equipped her for his
purpose, whatever that might be. Johnny had
not yet been told. There had been a hold at
the boat’s center, for sugar and other freight.
This had been transformed into a tank—or
swimming pool. Johnny could not tell which.
Doris, garbed in a gay swim suit, had taken
a morning plunge there, but he had a notion
it was for some other purpose, also.</p>
<p>Strangest of all, close to the stern where it
could be reached by the stout hoists, was a
large, hollow steel ball. It was all of eight feet
in diameter, and its walls were several inches
thick. What, he had asked himself more than
once, could that be for? But he had asked no
one else. The natives would not know, and one
simply did not ask such questions of an employer.
Besides, Johnny had learned long before,
it is a waste of time to ask questions
which, in good time, will answer themselves....</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_22">[22]</div>
<h2 id="c2"><span class="small">CHAPTER II</span>
<br />SPOOKY WATERS</h2>
<p>Johnny’s questions regarding the steel ball
were answered the following afternoon.
After his usual six hours of sleep, he was sitting
on the deck when the young man they
called Dave—his whole name was Dave Darnell—approached
him.</p>
<p>“I saw you taking pictures yesterday,” Dave
said with a smile.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Johnny answered. “Just a picture of
that island. I hope you didn’t mind.”</p>
<p>“Not at all”, said Dave. “That looked like
a rather good camera.”</p>
<p>“It is!” Johnny exclaimed. “None better. Of
course,” he added, grinning, “it’s not mine. It
was loaned to me. And there’s equipment,
screens for infra-red pictures, flash bulbs,
flood-lights—about everything.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_23">[23]</div>
<p>“Say—ee—” Dave exclaimed. “Looks like
you’re a real find! Want to go down and try
your luck at taking pictures?” He nodded
toward the big steel ball.</p>
<p>“Down?” Johnny asked, a little blankly.</p>
<p>“Yes—to the place of eternal night!”</p>
<p>“E—eternal night!”</p>
<p>“That’s right! I can’t describe it to you! But
I can show you. Question is—can you take
pictures in complete darkness?”</p>
<p>“They don’t come too dark for me!” Johnny
flashed back. “Lee Martin and I took a
picture of a Voodoo witches’ meeting—people
hiding in the dark from the island police. You
couldn’t see your hand. But we got the picture
all right. And I nearly lost an ear!
A burly black fellow swung at me with a
machete!”</p>
<p>“Nothing like that down there,” Dave chuckled.
“All the same—you’ll be surprised! Do you
want to go?”</p>
<p>“Sure—I’ll go,” Johnny agreed. “Only,” he
hesitated, “I have a strange horror of being
completely out of touch with the rest of the
world! What do we do about that?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_24">[24]</div>
<p>“That’s easy!” Dave laughed. “We have a
short-wave set on the boat and another in the
steel ball. Doris or the professor is always listening
in. How about it—do we go?”</p>
<p>“We sure do!” Johnny grinned.</p>
<p>“O.K.! Get your stuff together. We’ll go
down in an hour!”</p>
<p>“Wonder what I’m getting into now?”
Johnny asked himself as he walked to his
stateroom.</p>
<p>An hour later he found himself passing
through one of the strangest experiences of his
life. He was seated, doubled up. Had he wanted
to stand, he could not have done so. His
eyes were wide open, but he saw never a thing!</p>
<p>“Inky black!” he whispered.</p>
<p>“Nowhere else will you see such darkness,”
came Dave’s voice, close at his side.</p>
<p>“But look! There’s something!” Johnny exclaimed
in a low tone.</p>
<p>“Yes!” Dave’s voice rose excitedly. “And it’s
something quite new!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_25">[25]</div>
<p>Johnny stared with all possible intensity. Before
him—how far away he could not tell—there
moved a series of small, round spots of
yellow light. “It’s like flying through the air
at night,” he murmured; “and seeing the lights
of a huge Zeppelin passing.”</p>
<p>“Quick! Get your camera ready!” said Dave.</p>
<p>“All right—it’s all set!” Johnny’s own voice
sounded strange to him.</p>
<p>“I’ll turn on the light,” said Dave. “Now!”</p>
<p>“One, two, three—” Johnny counted to ten,
and closed the camera shutter with a click.</p>
<p>“Now! One more picture,” urged Dave. Another
click. “They’re passing. They’ll soon be
gone. If only it works!” Dave’s voice grew
louder with excitement.</p>
<p>“There”, Johnny sighed. “That’s two pictures—I
hope!”</p>
<p>“No time for another,” said Dave.</p>
<p>Johnny stared once more at the blue-black
darkness before him, and marveled afresh.
Could anything be stranger than this? Queerest
of all—there had not been one ray of visible
light. And Dave’s voice at his side had said,
“I’ll turn on the light!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_26">[26]</div>
<p>But Johnny knew what it was all about. He
had taken pictures in the dark before. Still the
strangeness of it all, baffled him.</p>
<p>As if brought on by the darkness and mystery,
he suddenly thought of something he
must tell Dave.</p>
<p>“Samatan is stirring up trouble with the crew
of the <i>Sea Nymph</i>!” he said.</p>
<p>“Our cook? Samatan?” Dave’s voice registered
surprise. “You must be mistaken.”</p>
<p>“No” said Johnny. “I heard him last night”.</p>
<p>“But why should he? He is well paid.”</p>
<p>“That’s what I don’t know.” There was a
note of perplexity in Johnny’s voice. “It’s what
somebody must find out. What if he should
persuade the men to hoist anchor and sail, <i>right
now</i>?”</p>
<p>“Right now?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“That would be practically fatal! It—</p>
<p>“But look!” Dave’s voice changed. “There
they are again! I never saw such a sight! Get
ready for another picture!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_27">[27]</div>
<p>Johnny quickly took another picture—two—three
more pictures. After that, the spots of
yellow light disappeared as before, and—for
what seemed a very long time—there was
nothing but inky blackness.</p>
<p>Johnny settled back for a few, fleeting
thoughts. That he was due for some unusual
experiences he had never a doubt. Fancy, going
far beneath the surface of the sea in a
thing like this steel ball! Suppose something
went wrong—even the least little thing!
What then? Dave had told him it was possible
to go down half a mile, perhaps more. Would
they ask him to go down that far to take pictures?</p>
<p>Sometimes, he thought, it’s better not to
know too much about what is ahead.</p>
<p>He had been vastly interested in their manner
of taking off in that steel ball. They had
crawled through a small entrance in the side,
and taken their places. Then had come the
bang of a steel door, swung into place. This
was followed by the clang of wrenches, bolting
them inside!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_28">[28]</div>
<p>Dave had seen him move, restlessly. “Don’t
let that bother you,” he had laughed. “I’ve
been down scores of times. It—it’s just grand!
Professor Casper got the thing up,” Dave
had explained. “Now his doctor won’t let him
go down—on account of a bad heart. So it’s
up to me, on this trip. There are things we
want to know. Your pictures should help.”</p>
<p>There hadn’t been time for any more talk.
After the door had been securely bolted down,
the hoist had lifted them over the rail and
lowered them gently into the inky depths.</p>
<p>With a suddenness that was startling, Johnny
awoke from his revery. Like the flash of
electric bulbs, lights were appearing and disappearing
before his eyes.</p>
<p>“Wha—what is it?” he exclaimed.</p>
<p>“Shrimp,” was Dave’s matter-of-fact reply.
“Something is after them. The squid shoots
out ink to make himself invisible, but in this
darkness that would do no good. These shrimp
shoot out little balls of fire. Look!” Suddenly
Dave switched on a powerful electric light, and
the little world about them was transformed.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_29">[29]</div>
<p>Seeming to swim in air, a score of tiny, crab-like
creatures moved rapidly across the spot
of light. Viewed through the six-inch-thick window
of fused quartz, they seemed fantastic
indeed.</p>
<p>For a few seconds the space before them was
a dark and empty void. Then again, it filled
with darting creatures. Dave switched off the
light, and once again the shrimp disappeared.
As soon as the more powerful light from their
strange, sub-sea visitor had been turned on,
they had appeared as dark, darting creatures.</p>
<p>“What was following them?” Johnny asked.</p>
<p>“Who knows?” There was a suggestion of
deep mystery in his companion’s tone. “That’s
the thrill and charm that comes from exploring
the sea’s depths! Anything may put in an
appearance. Creatures such as the world never
has dreamed of, may pass before our eyes!”</p>
<p>“How strange! How sort of—”</p>
<p>Johnny broke off to stare, then to exclaim—“There—there’s
something <i>huge</i>!”</p>
<p>“Quick! The camera!” Dave’s voice trembled.
“No—it’s too late!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_30">[30]</div>
<p>Moving with surprising swiftness, some
great, dark bulk passed through the outer edge
of their narrow beam of light.</p>
<p>“Wha—what was it?” Johnny felt a little
giddy.</p>
<p>“Some huge creature of the deep. Perhaps a
whale or a black fish,” Dave replied quietly.
“It is known that they penetrate to these
depths. Then again—perhaps it was some huge,
scaly creature that inhabits these depths
alone.”</p>
<p>“What if it had collided with us, or tangled
in our cable?”</p>
<p>“Then,” Dave’s tone was dry and droll, “we
might have taken a long, swift ride through
space!”</p>
<p>“Swinging like a pendulum?”</p>
<p>“That’s it! On our thousands of feet of
cable.”</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t like that,” Johnny shuddered.</p>
<p>“Then why bring it up?” Dave chuckled.</p>
<p>“Why, indeed!” Johnny laughed—</p>
<p>After another half hour of waiting, for one
more fascinating spectacle, Dave decided to
signal for their return to the top. Johnny experienced
a real sense of relief.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_31">[31]</div>
<p>“To explore the depths of the sea—earth’s
last great frontier—this is our purpose,” Dave
said, as they began to rise. “For centuries men
have been discovering strange creatures washed
up on beaches. They could have come from
nowhere save the ocean depths. For many
years they have been dragging these depths
with nets, to discover, if they could, what lived
in these ‘spooky waters’ of dense darkness.”</p>
<p>And now, Johnny thought exultantly, I am
having a part in an expedition that may reveal
the secrets of these dark depths.</p>
<p>But once again his mind returned to Samatan.
This strange person, with his apparent
hold on the native crew, was cook for the expedition.
And a marvelous cook he was. Johnny
had been interested in the strange old
man, from the first. He had studied him carefully.
And there could be no mistake about it—Samatan
was endeavoring to stir the crew to
something....</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_32">[32]</div>
<p>Now the blue-black world about him appeared
to be changing color. The blackness was
less intense.</p>
<p>“It’s like the coming of dawn,” he said to
Dave.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Dave chuckled, “only here we may
make our own dawn, slow or fast, as we
choose!”</p>
<p>That this was to be rather a fast dawn,
Johnny was not long in discovering. But it was
fascinating. To pass from inky blackness to
dark, deep blue, on into colors that resembled
a sunrise, and then to the eternal blue of a
bright, tropical day, was an experience not soon
to be forgotten. From time to time as they
rose, strange denizens of the sea seemed to
peer at them. Once a shark shot past, and just
before they reached the top, a great turtle
swam awkwardly away.</p>
<p>Came the bump—bump of their steel ball as,
lifted by the great crane, it landed on the
deck. Then, almost before he knew it, Johnny
thrust his head into bracing fresh air, to be
greeted by a smiling face and to hear a girl’s
voice saying:</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_33">[33]</div>
<p>“Hello, Johnny Thompson! How do you like
being down in Davey Jones’ locker?”</p>
<p>After assuring her of his enthusiasm,
Johnny hurried to his stateroom. He was wondering
whether Doris remembered their “secret”
of the night before.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_34">[34]</div>
<h2 id="c3"><span class="small">CHAPTER III</span>
<br />A BRIGHT EYED BEACH-COMBER</h2>
<p>Johnny went at once to a darkroom that had
been quickly prepared in the hold. Pictures
could be taken on land in what appeared to
be complete darkness; he knew this from his
work with Lee Martin. But would the utter
blackness beneath the sea be the same? He
would know, soon.</p>
<p>He watched the films with absorbed interest.
As the developer took hold, he saw nothing
but blackness.</p>
<p>“Nothing there!” he muttered disappointedly.
“Wasted shots. We—”</p>
<p>But wait! Was something coming out? Yes!
There it was! An indistinct, shadowy form!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_35">[35]</div>
<p>His thoughts leaped ahead. His pictures were
to be a success. He would be asked, times
without number, to go down in that darkness
and take more pictures. Dangerous work, but
he had to be a good sport, and besides, it was
splendid experience for him.</p>
<p>The strange, undersea creatures, some very
large, with heads as long as their bodies, with
fantastic buck teeth and hideous eyes, some
small and snakelike and some as normal looking
as any fish to be found near the surface,
came out clearly visible on the film.</p>
<p>“Perfect!” was the professor’s enthusiastic
reaction when Johnny showed him damp prints
a few hours later. “A real contribution! And
you took them in complete darkness!”</p>
<p>“In what appeared to be complete darkness,”
Johnny corrected. “I did it with an infra-red
light screen. That screen shuts out all
but the infra-red rays. Eyes can’t see the
light of these rays.</p>
<p>“Of course,” he went on, “we might have
used a flood light, but that would have frightened
those creatures away. As it is, we got
them in what you might call a natural pose.
Candid camera shots from the deep sea,” he
laughed.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_36">[36]</div>
<p>“Yes, yes,” the professor agreed. “Very remarkable
and most useful!”</p>
<p>“Of course,” said Johnny, with a touch of
modesty. “I learned all this from Lee Martin.
He took me on as a helper and sort of body-guard.
I just absorbed this camera stuff as
we went along.”</p>
<p>“I see,” said the professor, “that you have
learned one of the real secrets of success.”</p>
<p>“What’s that?” Johnny asked.</p>
<p>“To learn all you can about everything that
comes your way, and to file that knowledge
away in your brain. One never can tell when
the opportunity to use such information may
come to him. Perhaps never, but it’s always
there!</p>
<p>“You should be a great aid to us,” the professor
added thoughtfully. “You see,” he said,
leaning forward in his chair, “I regard this
work as the most interesting and exciting of
my entire career. Young man,”—his eyes fairly
shone, “what place do you think of as our
last frontier?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_37">[37]</div>
<p>Then, before Johnny could reply—“You may
go east, west, north, south” the professor continued
“but you find no frontier. You must
go up or down! Up into the stratosphere—or
down, into the sea. These are our last frontiers.
Dave and I have chosen the deep sea,
because there we may yet discover forms of
life not known to man. These pictures,” he
held them up, “show two types of fish never
before seen—and we have but begun!”</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>“We have but begun,” Johnny repeated softly
to himself as, some hours later, he once more
paced the deck in his solitary vigil. “We have
begun. Where shall we end? We—”</p>
<p>His soliloquy was interrupted. Had he caught
a gleam out there on the water? He thought
so. Now it was gone.</p>
<p>That was one thing he was to watch for—natives
in dugouts and canoes. Who could tell
what they might do? In a strange land one
did well to keep close watch. He would keep
an eye out for that light....</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_38">[38]</div>
<p>“Exploring our last frontier,” he whispered
softly. He was in for something truly big
again. Big, exciting, and dangerous! Well, that
was the life. Life, action, thrills—and a touch
of romance! Boy-oh-boy! That was the stuff!</p>
<p>But there <i>was</i> a gleam of light on the water!
There could be no mistaking it. It was closer,
too. What should he do? Call someone? After
a moment’s thought he decided to wait. His
flashlight would reach out a hundred feet or
more. Time enough when those people, whoever
they were, came within reach of his light. So,
somewhat excited, Johnny waited by the gunwale,
watching the bobbing of a tiny light—now
here—now there—now gone—but ever coming
nearer.</p>
<p>He waited, breathless, tense, expectant,
watching for some craft. What would he see?
Dark faces? Gleaming spears? Flashing
machetes? Soon he would know.</p>
<p>When at last he cast the gleam of his powerful
light on the spot where that golden glow
had last shown, he gasped in astonishment.</p>
<p>“A girl!” he exclaimed, amazedly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_39">[39]</div>
<p>Yes, it was a girl. In a dugout patterned
after a white man’s canoe, she came straight
on, without a sound. Her boy’s shirt and blue
slacks were faded, but clean. Her reddish-golden
hair fairly gleamed in the light. She
had a round, freckled face and smiling eyes.</p>
<p>As she came alongside, Johnny reached over,
took her line and made it fast. Then he
gripped her small, firm hand and helped her
over the low rail.</p>
<p>“I—I had to come,” she breathed. “I—I’ve
been watching you for days. What—” there
was tense eagerness in her voice, “what is that
big ball you let down into the sea?”</p>
<p>“That,” said Johnny, after bringing her a deck
chair, “is for going down, down, down, to the
bottom of the sea!”</p>
<p>“I—I hoped it would be.”</p>
<p>“Why”</p>
<p>“Our trading schooner, the <i>Swallow</i>, sank.
We—we can’t find it. I thought—”</p>
<p>“Thought these people might find it for
you?”</p>
<p>“Yes! Yes—that’s it! Do you suppose—”</p>
<p>“I can’t tell about that. You see,” Johnny
hesitated, “I’m only a watch, on this boat. I—well
you might say I’m just a tropical tramp!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_40">[40]</div>
<p>“That,” said the girl, putting out her hand,
“makes us kin! Grandfather and I are beach-combers!</p>
<p>“You see,” she went on, after giving Johnny’s
hand a quick grip, “I sort of ran away
from home. No, not quite that. I was half
through college. It cost an awful lot. My folks
couldn’t afford it, but they wanted me to finish
anyway. I wouldn’t let them spend the
money, so I asked grandfather to send me a
steamship ticket. He did—and here I am! It’s
grand! Really gorgeous! These nights.” She
spread her arms wide. “The jungle! The water
rushing along the shore, the birds, the flowers,
romance, adventure, everything! It’s just
grand!” Her face fairly shone.</p>
<p>“But our boat,” her voice dropped, “sprang
a leak in a storm. The natives were sailing
her. They lost the location and we can’t find
it. Perhaps—”</p>
<p>“You’d have to see Dave,” said Johnny.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_41">[41]</div>
<p>“He’s the young man who goes down in the
steel ball? I—I’ve been watching you through
the glass.”</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s Dave. He takes his work of exploring
the sea’s depths very serenely! Tell you
what!” Johnny exclaimed. “You get him to
take you down!”</p>
<p>“In—in that thing?” The girl drew in her
breath sharply, eyeing the distant shadow of
the huge sphere.</p>
<p>“Sure, in the steel ball! He’d like to! He’s
proud of it. And he likes showing people
strange things. If you want someone to do a
certain thing for you—ask him to do something
else, first! That’s a grand rule.” Johnny looked
into the girl’s frank, grey eyes, and decided
he liked her.</p>
<p>“Yes—I—I suppose so,” the girl replied, slowly.
“But you know—well, anyway—it’s worth
thinking about!”</p>
<p>“Look!” said Johnny, starting up. “Perhaps
you can tell me what <i>that</i> is.” He pointed to
the distant island, where again the blinking
green arrow could be seen.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_42">[42]</div>
<p>“No, I—” The girl sat there, staring. “I
never saw that before. But you know,” her
voice dropped to a whisper, “there are spies
on these islands! Lots of spies!”</p>
<p>“Spies?” Johnny’s voice expressed astonishment.</p>
<p>“European spies,” she added.</p>
<p>“But why?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know about it. Grandfather can
tell you all there is to know. He’s always talking
spies, and saying what they’ll do when the
time comes.... You must come over and see
us. Our place is just over there on the shore.
You’ll come, won’t you?”</p>
<p>“Yes. Certainly I’ll come.”</p>
<p>“Thanks a lot.” Once more she gripped his
hand. “And now—goodnight. I—I’m glad I
came.” She was over the side and away.</p>
<p>“Well, I’ll <i>be</i>!” said Johnny as he settled back
in his chair. A moment later, faint, and far
away, he heard her voice come over the dark
water:</p>
<p>“My name is Mildred Kennedy. Be sure to
come see us—don’t forget!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_43">[43]</div>
<p>For answer Johnny whistled once, cupping
his lips with his hands, to reduce the likelihood
of arousing anyone on board. After that he
was left to silence and the night—and the mysterious
arrow of green light, blinking away on
the distant hillside.</p>
<p>Sliding out the field glass, he studied that
arrow for two full minutes. He felt sure from
its strange blinking and winking that it was
being used as a code signal. For the life of
him, however, he could not make the lights
separate themselves. They always remained a
blur.</p>
<p>“Too far away,” he grumbled. He wanted
to hoist anchor and let the boat drift closer
to shore, but this, he knew, would not do. He
was neither skipper nor mate.</p>
<p>Suddenly recalling Doris’ words of the previous
night, he realized that he had made the
light, the secret of the bright-eyed little
Mildred Kennedy! “I won’t tell Doris about
that!” he decided. “At least, not yet.”</p>
<p>He was seized with a sudden desire to know
who was receiving those blinking signals of the
green arrow. Deep in thought, he turned his
back to the island and, to his utter astonishment,
saw above the motionless sea some distance
away, a second blinking green arrow!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_44">[44]</div>
<p>“Ah!” he breathed, lifting the glass to his
eyes. Digging into a pocket, he dragged out
a pencil and a small notebook. After that, for
fully ten minutes, he held the glass with his
left hand while setting down numbers. 5 - 7 - 11 - 9,
13 - 6 - 3, 4 - 9 - 2 - 7. He wrote down
figures and more figures, until a strange, rushing
sound reached his ears.</p>
<p>Startled, he sprang to his feet. On the shore
side he saw a broad band of white foam rapidly
approaching the boat. Standing there,
mouth open and staring, he watched it sweep
toward him. With a hissing roar it swept beneath
the boat and, without causing the least
movement of the craft, went rushing on.</p>
<p>“False alarm,” he murmured. “Probably
what they call a rip-tide.”</p>
<p>Turning back to sea, he looked again for
the blinking green arrow. But it was gone. The
distant island hill, too, now was entirely dark.</p>
<p>“Strange,” he muttered, as again he paced
the deck.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_45">[45]</div>
<p>And indeed it was strange, for the ship’s log
had recorded no boat in sight at sundown!</p>
<p>From then, until Johnny’s vigil ended with
the dawn, there was nothing to disturb the
calm stillness of the tropic night.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_46">[46]</div>
<h2 id="c4"><span class="small">CHAPTER IV</span>
<br />SPIES</h2>
<p>On board the <i>Sea Nymph</i> was a small
boat known as the Tub. Very short and
broad, it rowed like a washtub, and in
a storm, would have been about as safe as a
laundry basket. But water held no terrors for
Johnny, so, late the following afternoon, he
pushed the Tub into the sea and headed for
shore.</p>
<p>“You came! How grand!” Mildred Kennedy
came racing down a palm-lined path to greet
him.</p>
<p>She wore an orange-colored smock, and there
was flour on the hand she held out in greeting.</p>
<p>“I’m making cookies,” she confided.</p>
<p>“Sounds great!” Johnny grinned.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_47">[47]</div>
<p>She led him to a broad, screened porch where
a bearded giant unwound himself from a deep,
comfortable chair to meet him.</p>
<p>“This is grandfather.” Real pride shone in
the girl’s eyes. “He’s been a beach-comber for
thirty years. That’s a record!”</p>
<p>“Now, child,” the old man drawled, “don’t
you go bragging on me.</p>
<p>“Have a chair,” he directed Johnny.</p>
<p>“My cookies will burn. I’ll have to hurry,”
said the girl. “Grandfather—you tell him about
those spies.”</p>
<p>“Spies? Oh, yes. Those European fellows.”
The old man’s face darkened. “I’ve been
preaching against ’em for mighty nigh twenty
years. Mebbe longer than that, I reckon. You
see, Mr. Thompson—”</p>
<p>“Please call me Johnny,” said the boy. “I’m
not used to the ‘Mister’.”</p>
<p>“All right, Johnny. That’s what it shall be.
You see, Johnny, these islands were once a
French colony. The French made slaves of the
natives. They brought in a lot more slaves and
before long, there were many more slaves than
there were Frenchmen. So the natives polished
up their machetes, started poundin’ their Voodoo
drums, and drove the Frenchmen off the
islands. This has been a republic ever since.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_48">[48]</div>
<p>“But spies, now,” his voice dropped. “How’d
you get to thinkin’ o’ spies?”</p>
<p>“Your granddaughter told me there were
spies. And there’s been a green arrow—an
arrow of light—on the hill at night, and another
on the water. It’s sort of mysterious.”</p>
<p>“A green arrow of light,” the old man repeated.
“That’s what Mildred was telling me.
Strange that I never saw it.”</p>
<p>“You couldn’t,” said Johnny, “unless you
were on the water. It’s near the middle of the
island, and up high.”</p>
<p>“There’s a place up there built of stone, half
castle—half prison,” Kennedy said, thoughtfully.
“Some Frenchman built it, thinking he
could hold out against the natives. Well, he
couldn’t, and now the natives think it’s haunted.
Won’t go near it. It’s a long way up a
terrible trail.</p>
<p>“But those spies, now,” he added thoughtfully.
“They may be using it for a hideout and
signal tower. They stop at nothing.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_49">[49]</div>
<p>The old man rose, circled the porch like a
prowling tiger, then returned to his seat.</p>
<p>“These natives,” he went on, “are a simple
people. They can’t run a country. They found
it out soon enough. So did these other people,
these Europeans. I won’t name the country as
you’ll learn it soon enough. Those Europeans
came here and began boring in, just as they do
everywhere. You’ll find them in every South
American republic and every island of the sea.
They’re robbers, spies, traitors!” His voice
rose. “They rob the people, and at the same
time plot the overthrow of all governments but
their own.</p>
<p>“Young man!” Mr. Kennedy left his chair
with surprising vigor. “Did you ever take a
good look at the map, and think how important
this Caribbean Sea is?”</p>
<p>“No, I—”</p>
<p>“Come here. Have a look!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_50">[50]</div>
<p>They stood before a large wall map. “Look
at it,” Kennedy insisted. “Plentiful islands
with Central America on the west. A score of
wonderful harbors. Suppose those people took
possession of these islands. Look at Haiti! A
harbor where an entire navy might drop
anchor! Yes—and room left for ten thousand
seaplanes! Bombers! How would our Atlantic
coast—Miami, Charleston, New York, Boston—how
would they look, after those planes had
been raiding from this base for a week, if there
were war. And who says there <i>won’t</i> be!</p>
<p>“You saw a light on the water!” He whirled
around.</p>
<p>“Yes! Low down! A green arrow of lights,
that flashed.”</p>
<p>“‘Low down’!—I should say they were!” The
old man grimaced. “Spies!” he muttered.
“Since our Marines left the islands—we took
control during the World War, you know—these
islands have been nests of spies! Something
should be done about it. But these natives
sleep on—and Uncle Sam doesn’t care to
interfere. And yet I’m beginning to hope he
will—before it is too late!” His words trailed
off as he resumed his seat.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_51">[51]</div>
<p>“These people may call themselves beach-combers,”
Johnny thought to himself. “Perhaps
they are, in a way! But they’re grand folks.”</p>
<p>The house, which he presumed had been built
with native labor, was made of massive, hardwood
logs. There was no glass in the broad
windows, but bamboo “screens,” which could
be let down at night. Mosquito-net canopies
were hung over the beds to keep out insects.
Most tropical houses are like that.</p>
<p>Behind the house were orchards—grapefruit,
oranges, bananas. And down in the flat land
by the shore, sugar cane was growing.</p>
<p>“We cut it out of the wilderness, the natives
and I,” the old man rumbled, in response to
Johnny’s polite inquiry. “They’re quite wonderful,
these natives—once you come to understand
them.</p>
<p>“Of course,” his brow darkened, “some of
them can’t be trusted. Those men, those Europeans—”
his tone was bitter, “have corrupted
them. Yes, and robbed them, too! They pay
little for their produce, wild rubber, chicle, wild
coffee. And they charge the natives high prices
for cheap goods. They get the people deeply
in debt to them, and then make slaves of them.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_52">[52]</div>
<p>“That,” he sighed, “was why we bought a
trading schooner, Mildred and I. We wanted
to give the people of our small island a chance.
We were doing it, too!” He struck the table a
blow with his massive fist. “By George! We
were doing it!</p>
<p>“But our boat’s on the bottom now!” His
voice fell. “Our natives took her out in a
storm, and she sprang a leak.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I know. Mildred told me.” Johnny was
wondering whether some treacherous native,
inspired by the Europeans, had let the water
into the Kennedy boat. At the same time he
was making a resolve to do all he could to
find the boat and help bring it to the surface.</p>
<p>Mildred entered with a great plate of cookies
and a pitcher of ice-cold, fruit juice.</p>
<p>“I hope you like them,” she smiled.</p>
<p>Johnny did like them. What was more, as
the moments passed he became more and more
interested in his new-found friends. They were,
he told himself, good, kind, intelligent people—his
kind. They would do things, together. He
saw himself with the girl, following obscure
trails in search of that spy castle whence, perhaps,
the green arrow messages came.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_53">[53]</div>
<p>“Well,” he sighed at last, “I’ll have to be
getting back. It’s been grand, this visit. I hope
you’ll let me come back, and that—that we
can do things together.” He was looking at
the girl.</p>
<p>“Do things? What, for instance?” Her face
was serious.</p>
<p>“Lots of things. Things that may help.” He
gave her a broad smile. Then—“just a big
batch of day-dreams, I guess.”</p>
<p>At that he shook hands with the old man,
walked down the broad path with the girl,
gripped her hand for an instant, then climbed
into his Tub and rowed away.</p>
<p>“Thanks for one grand time,” he called back.</p>
<p>“You’re welcome, and thanks for coming,”
was Mildred’s answer. And the hills echoed
back, “thanks—thanks.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_54">[54]</div>
<h2 id="c5"><span class="small">CHAPTER V</span>
<br />WHISPERING DEPTHS</h2>
<p>Johnny had an active mind. Figuring and
planning were almost continuous activities
with him. Sometimes he really tried to slow
the process up, but his mind would keep right
on, figuring and planning.</p>
<p>As he rowed slowly back to the boat, his
thoughts were particularly active. There were
things to be done. He would see that they <i>were</i>
done, in the end; he surely would. By going
down in the steel ball as many times as Dave
wanted him to, and by taking pictures, he’d
put Dave in debt to him. Then he’d persuade
Mildred to go down in the steel ball. Dave
would like that. Then, at just the right time,
he and Mildred would ask Dave to help find
that trading boat at the bottom of the sea,
and to float it once more.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_55">[55]</div>
<p>Then they would get busy on those spies, he
and Mildred and—and anyone else who would
help. It was a patriotic duty, by thunder! It
surely was! In his mind’s eye he saw the map
of the Caribbean Sea, these islands at one side,
the Panama Canal on the other. If the Europeans
got these islands, what would happen to
the canal? Filled with rocks and mud—that was
the answer! They’d bomb the very daylights
out of it. Yes, they must uncover those spies—at
least some of them. He wondered whether
the green arrow would show tonight, and
whether he would be able to make any sense
out of the numbers he had written down in
his notebook.</p>
<p>“It’s some sort of code,” he told himself repeatedly.
“If I can decipher it we may get
somewhere.”</p>
<p>But here he was alongside the <i>Sea Nymph</i>,
and Dave was saying:</p>
<p>“Hello, Johnny. We’re shifting our position
tonight—coming in a little closer. Tomorrow
afternoon I’d like you to go down with me to
get some pictures. You won’t mind, will you?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_56">[56]</div>
<p>That was exactly what Johnny had planned.
“No, I won’t mind,” he said, “that will
be keen.”</p>
<p>A mist drifted out over the ocean. All that
night Johnny paced the deck in a chill fog.
No green light showed from the island hills.
Once he thought he heard men’s voices, but
nothing came of it. He was glad enough when
he could crawl into his berth, draw his blankets
over him, and lose himself in sleep.</p>
<p>When he awoke the sun was shining. It was
mid-afternoon, and Dave was waiting for him
to appear, for their trip below.</p>
<p>“What a life!” he murmured. After he had
gulped some hot coffee, hurriedly bolted some
seabiscuits and a piece of pie he reappeared
on deck.</p>
<p>“All ready?” Dave asked.</p>
<p>“Soon as I get my camera and things.”</p>
<p>“Good! I’ll have the steel ball in shape
P.D.Q.,” Dave grinned, good-naturedly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_57">[57]</div>
<p>“He’s really a nice chap,” Johnny thought.
“Only he takes science and discovery pretty
seriously. I suppose we’ll discover some saber-toothed
viper fish, or maybe some flying
snails!” He smiled at his thoughts. Life was
not half bad after all.</p>
<p>Half an hour later he was experiencing such
thrills as only the deep, deep sea could bring.
Some five hundred feet beneath the surface of
the sea he sat doubled up in his place, staring
at an ever changing panorama. A rocky wall,
not twenty feet from him, stood up like a sky-scraper,
straight and tall. Here and there it was
broken by fissures and caves. Everywhere it
was festooned with sea vegetation—seaweed,
kelp, anemones. All these, with coral that rose
like Gothic architecture, were entrancing.</p>
<p>Dave was by his side—not to admire, but to
record. The look on his face was almost
solemn. As they moved slowly downward Dave
spoke into a small microphone and Doris, up
on deck, recorded his words. Strange words
they were, too: “A school of parrot fish; three
hatchet fish; two round-mouths; a golden-tailed
serpent dragon; a—oh—oh!—Hold everything!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_58">[58]</div>
<p>At that instant Dave’s window was opposite
a dark cavern. As he threw on a more
powerful light he caught the gleam of two,
great eyes. How far apart they were!</p>
<p>Despite his efforts to remain calm, Johnny’s
heart skipped a beat as, at Dave’s command,
he touched his moving-picture camera and set
it recording. What sort of creature was this?
A whale? A blackfish? Or some strange, unknown
denizen of the deep? Suppose at this
instant it should become enraged, should rush
out of its hiding place and drag the steel ball
out into the deep—to send it crashing against
the rocky wall? A broken window would mean
instant death. And yet Johnny’s hand did not
tremble as he adjusted his camera....</p>
<p>Just after the steel ball had gone over the
side, Mildred Kennedy, in her dugout canoe,
had arrived for a visit. It had called for real
courage, this little journey. From a distance
these <i>Sea Nymph</i> people had seemed so serious.
All but Johnny. “But it’s not decent to stay
away and not be properly sociable,” she had
told her grandfather. So here she was.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_59">[59]</div>
<p>There had been time only for a brief word
of welcome from Doris. After that, whispering
excitedly—“Dave and Johnny are below in the
steel ball. It—it’s dreadfully thrilling, even here
on deck,” Doris had clamped a pair of head-phones
over her guest’s ears and had whispered
tensely:</p>
<p>“Listen!”</p>
<p>So they were seated on the deck of the <i>Sea
Nymph</i>, listening intently for reports from below.
At the same time, they talked.</p>
<p>“I came to visit my grandfather,” Mildred
said, “just as sort of a lark. I was storm bound
indoors for two weeks, and when I saw how
simple and kind the natives were, the happy,
free life they lived, and yet how many things
could be done for them, I wanted to stay. So
I just did. And I am glad. Only—” A shadow
passed over her face.</p>
<p>“Listen!” Doris held up a finger. “Thought
I heard a whisper. It—it couldn’t be Dave! I—I
hope nothing has gone wrong. It’s truly
dangerous being down there, and yet one does
learn so much—”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_60">[60]</div>
<p>“Shish!” Mildred held up a finger. “I—listen—I
hear a whisper! It—it’s numbers he’s
saying. How strange!”</p>
<p>As the two girls sat in silence, pressing the
phones to their ears, listening with their every
sense, they caught—in a low whisper:</p>
<p>“Two hundred—and—eight—and a half. Ten.
No—now a drop—thirty, thirty-one—two—three—”</p>
<p>Then Dave’s voice boomed through, drowning
out the whisper. “O.K. We saw some sort
of monster,” he was saying. “He was in one
of these caverns and Johnny got his picture—we
hope! Wish you were down here.”</p>
<p>“So do we!” Doris’ voice exclaimed. “We
heard a whisper. Thought you might—”</p>
<p>“You’ve been dreaming!” Dave boomed back.
“Forget it—and tell that man at the cable to
let us down again, slowly. Boy!—how I do want
to see things!”</p>
<p>Yes, Dave wanted to see things. Most of all,
on this particular day he wished to go down—down—down
into the watery depths, to discover,
if possible, just how far down, sea vegetation
and coral were to be found.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_61">[61]</div>
<p>“If only I don’t find bottom too soon,” he
thought. “And if the sea remains calm.”</p>
<p>The sea. He shuddered a little at this. If
the anchors held—all would be well. But if
they should give way—that would be truly terrible.
To the right and left of them, not a
quarter-mile apart, were parallel walls of rock.
To be dragged against one of these—? Who
could tell what disaster might result!</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>In the meantime, as they listened, the two
girls talked of many things, of home, of
thrilling tropical nights, of Mildred’s sunken
schooner and many other things.</p>
<p>Of a sudden, their conversation was interrupted
by a sound, conveyed through their
head-phones.</p>
<p>“Sh—“—Doris’ hand went up. “It’s that
strange whisper again!”</p>
<p>“Whispering waters!” Mildred murmured.
“How mysterious!”</p>
<p>Low as her tone was, the whisperer apparently
caught it, for—still in that hoarse
whisper—there came back:</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_62">[62]</div>
<p>“So we are mysterious! How very grand!
And it was a lady who spoke!”</p>
<p>Once again Dave’s voice broke in upon the
whisperer: “Doris!” Tenseness was evident in
his tone. “Doris!—Tell them to hold us right
where we are!”</p>
<p>“<i>Hold it!</i>” Doris called to the windlass man,
instantly.</p>
<p>“<i>Hold it</i>,” came back the quick acknowledgment.</p>
<p>“All this,” Doris said to Mildred, “is most
provoking. You are just dying to know what
strange things are happening below, what marvelous
discoveries are being made—but the
only part you have in it is listening and
waiting!”</p>
<p>Down in the steel ball, Dave had caught a
movement to the right, away from the cliff.
Switching his light in that direction he had
discovered a huge, dark object moving slowly
through the water.</p>
<p>“It’s that ‘thing’!” he told himself. “The very
thing I’ve seen before!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_63">[63]</div>
<p>To his great disappointment, the form was
as indistinct as before. That it might be a
whale he knew quite well. He suggested the
idea to Johnny.</p>
<p>“But it’s not a whale—I’m sure of it!” Johnny
whispered. Swinging his moving-picture
camera into range, he managed to catch the
rear half of it before it passed from view.</p>
<p>“The camera sees more than the eye,” he
murmured. “Here’s hoping.”</p>
<p>Dave turned again to his task of exploring
the under-sea wall. He signalled their continued
descent.</p>
<p>A moment later the ear-phones on deck were
silent. Both Dave and the mysterious whisperer
were unheard.</p>
<p>“Who <i>could</i> that have been?” Mildred asked.</p>
<p>“I’ve no idea,” was Doris’ reply.</p>
<p>“Do you know,” Mildred added dreamily, “I
have a feeling that whisperer was not far away!”</p>
<p>Doris started to speak but checked herself,
suddenly. Once again she had caught the weird
tones of the whisperer.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_64">[64]</div>
<p>“One-eighty—eighty-two—eighty-six,” he
droned. Then he raised his voice above the
whisper, and called:</p>
<p>“Hello there—you mermaids! Are you still
there?”</p>
<p>“He <i>must</i> be near us!” Doris exclaimed. “If
not—why would he call us ‘mermaids’?”</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>At that same instant Dave was experiencing
a thrill. Arrived at a spot opposite a broad
shelf on the perpendicular wall, he and Johnny
found themselves within five feet of the rock.
Vegetation, which had been thinning out, was
just disappearing.</p>
<p>And then Dave saw it—a long, wavering arm,
reaching out for the steel ball. Involuntarily,
he started back from the window. Then he
laughed.</p>
<p>A second arm appeared. Then, a third.</p>
<p>“Octopus!” he whispered to Johnny. “Such
a monster!” Instantly his light was on, and
Johnny’s movie camera was grinding away.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_65">[65]</div>
<p>“Only one of his kind I’ve ever seen!” Dave
was thrilled to the tips of his toes. “Wish he’d
climb on board and let us take him up. He
won’t do that, but I’ll get him, all the same!
Some time I’ll get him!</p>
<p>“How ugly he is! See how his eyes shine,
Johnny! People sure would throng around him
in an aquarium! Put him in with some gorgeous,
tropical fish and you’d have a ‘beauty
and the beast’ show! You—”</p>
<p>Suddenly he stopped speaking, to stare
straight at the wall. They were moving away!
There could be no doubt of it. Fascinated by
the strangeness of the situation, he and Johnny
sat motionless while the octopus faded from
sight. Two yards—three—five—ten—twenty—they
were swinging off! And behind him was
a second wall, against which the window of
the steel ball might crack like an egg shell.</p>
<p>At that instant Dave heard a strange voice
repeating an idiotic question:</p>
<p>“<i>Hello there, you mermaids. Are you still there?</i>”</p>
<p>The very sound of a human voice seemed
to rouse him.</p>
<p>“Doris!” he called. “The anchors have pulled
loose! The ship is drifting!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_66">[66]</div>
<p>“<i>Hello, there</i>,” called that same voice. “<i>So
you’re not a mermaid, after all!</i>”</p>
<p>Something had gone wrong with Dave’s
radio, Doris thought. His voice did not come
through clearly.</p>
<p>“Hello! Hello Dave!” Doris called. “Repeat!
What did you say?”</p>
<p>“<i>I said are you a mermaid?</i>” came in that teasing
voice.</p>
<p>“Get off the air!” Doris stormed.</p>
<p>“Doris!” Dave roared. His voice came
through clearly now. “The ship’s adrift! Tell
the captain to order our main anchor line
played out—to pull hard to port!”</p>
<p>“Anchor line out! Hard to port!” the girl
cried.</p>
<p>“Anchor line out. Hard to port!” came booming
back the repetition.</p>
<p>Instantly Doris found her head in a whirl.
Dave and Johnny were down a full thousand
feet. On each side of their ball a rock wall
rose high above them. To crash against it
might mean disaster.</p>
<p>“Haul away—Top speed!” came in Dave’s
usual calm voice.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_67">[67]</div>
<p>“Haul away. Top speed!” Doris called to the
control man.</p>
<p>Complete silence followed. Even the “whisperer”
appeared to have sensed the tenseness
of the situation and had gone off the air.</p>
<p>That there was to be a race against time
with their lives as a grand prize, Johnny realized
at once. Here they were, several hundred
feet down in the black depths of the sea, drifting
at a fairly rapid rate toward a rocky wall.
If they hit that wall? He shuddered at the
thought. The pressure of water at that depth
was tremendous. If the ball cracked, nothing
could save them.</p>
<p>“Is there anything at all we can do?” he
asked Dave.</p>
<p>“Not a thing, I guess,” Dave answered. Then,
“Yes! Yes, there might be, at that! There are
the levers! They are <i>outside</i> the ball and can
be worked from <i>within</i>! I had them fixed up
for gathering outside samples. If we lifted
them into position, they’d lessen the shock if
we hit the wall!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_68">[68]</div>
<p>No sooner said than done! Groping about,
Johnny seized a handle here, another there, as
Dave was doing. He felt much better when
the outside levers were in position. They would
provide a little protection, at least.</p>
<p>With astonishing speed, now, the wall approached.
They could see every detail of the
seagrowth clinging there. “Ten yards,” Johnny
guessed. “Eight—five—three—” He was sitting
on the inner handle of the lever and gripping
the other hard. “Now—now comes the test!”
he breathed.</p>
<p>The words were hardly out of his mouth
when there came a grinding impact that all
but lifted him from his place. And then—they
were free of the ledge!</p>
<p>“Free!” Dave cried joyously. “Doris! We are
safe!” he called into his speaker.</p>
<p>The ball rose slowly above the top of the
ledge.</p>
<p>Dave, however, had spoken too soon. Scarcely
had he settled back when a great spiral of
coral, like the towers of a church, appeared to
leap at them. This, he knew, grew from the
top of the ledge.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_69">[69]</div>
<p>There was just time for a lightning decision,
but they were prepared for it.</p>
<p>“This lever is closest,” Dave exclaimed. “It’s
our window or the lever!”</p>
<p>Throwing their whole weight on the lever
handle, they waited a second—two—three—ten—twenty.
Johnny heard his watch ticking
them off....</p>
<p>Then came the heavy jolt. He was thrown
so violently that his head struck the top, and
his senses reeled.</p>
<p>When at last he was able to sit up and look
out, he murmured a fervent “Thank God.” For
the hazard was past. The glorious blue of
water was all about them.</p>
<p>Fifteen minutes later the steel ball rested on
the <i>Sea Nymph’s</i> deck. A few more moments
and, hands first, like frogs leaping from a jar,
the two tumbled out on the deck.</p>
<p>“Hel—hello, folks!” Dave said, standing up
a trifle unsteadily. “How’s the weather up
here?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_70">[70]</div>
<p>“That,” said Doris, gripping Dave’s arm
without realizing it and giving Johnny a happy
smile, “that was awful!”</p>
<p>Mildred, gazing at them admiringly, echoed
the thought.</p>
<p>“How about a glass of lemonade, and—and
something to go with it?” Dave demanded.
“Chocolate coated marshmallow cake, macaroons,
and—”</p>
<p>“Dave, you’ll get fat,” Doris laughed.</p>
<p>“And then I wouldn’t be able to get into
the steel ball. Wouldn’t that be grand?</p>
<p>“But no!” Dave answered his own question.
“It wouldn’t! Not at all. For I’ve been seeing
things—wonderful things! And I’m going back
tomorrow!”</p>
<p>After their little feast on deck, Doris accompanied
Mildred to the boat’s side, gave her a
hand as she dropped lightly into her dugout,
and said in a friendly tone:</p>
<p>“You’ll come again, won’t you—very soon?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes!” Mildred exclaimed. “I’ll fairly
haunt you from now on, for we do get a little
lonely—grandfather and I. But you must all
come over and see us too! Won’t you?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_71">[71]</div>
<p>“Oh, yes, very soon,” Doris answered,
cordially.</p>
<p>“Day after tomorrow is Sunday—how about
then?”</p>
<p>“I’ll let you know. It’s up to Dave, really.
He’s so absorbed he almost forgets to eat. You
see,” Doris went on, “he’s very fond of my
grandfather, and wants to help all he can.”</p>
<p>“These grandfathers of ours!” Mildred
laughed.</p>
<p>Half an hour later Johnny came upon Doris,
standing before an easel and putting the last
touches on a picture of the sea, the island, and
a gorgeous sunset.</p>
<p>“I didn’t know you were an artist,” he said
in genuine surprise.</p>
<p>“I’m not,” Doris frowned. “I only make a
try at it. Those colors! You never can get them
just right!”</p>
<p>“Looks swell!” Johnny said, admiringly.
“Wish I could do half so well. Why don’t you
try an <i>underseascape</i>?”</p>
<p>“What would that be?” Doris wrinkled her
brow.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_72">[72]</div>
<p>“You go to the bottom of the sea, fifty feet
or so down, in a diving helmet. You set your
easel on the bottom, weight it down, and
paint—whatever you see there!”</p>
<p>“Not really?”</p>
<p>“I read about it in a book. Found it in the
ship’s library. Anyway—it would be fun
trying.”</p>
<p>“Water would spoil your paint.”</p>
<p>“It says not,” Johnny grinned. “Only trouble
is—little fish, like flies, get into your paint!”</p>
<p>“I’ll try it some time,” Doris declared. “I’ve
been down twice with Dave. It’s thrilling—walking
on the bottom of the sea. Thanks for
the idea, Johnny!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_73">[73]</div>
<h2 id="c6"><span class="small">CHAPTER VI</span>
<br />REAL PROGRESS!</h2>
<p>After going on duty that night, Johnny
came upon Samatan, leader of the boat’s
native crew. He was seated in a corner, but
one of the ship’s lamps lighted his face. He
was staring at the steel ball and there was unmistakable
animosity in his expression.</p>
<p>“Looks as if he’d like to eat it,” Johnny
mused. “Wonder what it’s all about.”</p>
<p>A little later he heard the natives talking in
their quarters below deck.</p>
<p>“Sounds as if they were angry about something,”
he told himself. More than once he
heard Samatan’s voice rising above the rest,
as if he were making some sort of speech. He
wondered if it could be possible that the
European spies had somehow inspired these
natives with hate for <i>all</i> Americans.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_74">[74]</div>
<p>“That would be bad,” he thought. “It might
spell disaster.” He resolved to cultivate
Samatan’s acquaintance to find out, if possible,
just what his grievance was. Then he
might put things to rights.</p>
<p>Maybe some superstition is connected with
the steel ball, Johnny reflected. When you are
among primitive people you never know quite
what to expect.</p>
<p>That night the green arrow blinked again.
Johnny saw it, shortly after midnight. The
boat was closer in, now, and he could make
out the separate lights of the arrow as they
flashed, up there on the hillside. If there was
another light out at sea, it must have been far
away—or too low to be visible. He caught no
sight of it.</p>
<p>When the arrow appeared, Johnny got busy
at once. With small circles, like coins in a row,
he sketched an arrow, in pencil.</p>
<p>From the tip of the flashing arrow to the
other end, there were thirteen lights. Besides,
there were two lights slanting back on each
side, at the tip. These four helped form the
head of the arrow. Four others, in pairs, made
the feather end.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_75">[75]</div>
<p>As he watched intently through powerful
binoculars loaned him by the professor,
Johnny noted that the thirteen lights blinked
separately, but the eight which comprised the
head and feather of the arrow, blinked in
unison.</p>
<p>“Those eight lights must stand for a period,”
he concluded. “The thirteen are letters, or code
numbers. I wonder how they work.”</p>
<p>For some time, as on that other occasion,
Johnny recorded the winking and blinking of
the lights. When at last the green arrow
became dark, he took a turn about the deck,
then settled down to the task of trying to
figure that code. Dawn found him still figuring,
but seemingly no nearer the solution.</p>
<p>“Dumb!” he exploded at last, as he crammed
the notebook into his pocket and went to
breakfast. When he returned to the deck late
that afternoon he found Doris and Dave
working over some notes.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_76">[76]</div>
<p>“Hello, Johnny. How about those pictures
we took yesterday?” It was Dave who spoke.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes,” Johnny exclaimed. He had forgotten
them. “Come on to the darkroom, if
you like. I’ll develop them right away.”</p>
<p>Doris accompanied them to the darkroom.
There, fascinated, they watched strange creatures
of the depths come out on the film.</p>
<p>The great, shadowy creature which had
peered out from a rocky cavern was, the picture
revealed, a veritable deep-sea monster.</p>
<p>“If only I could bring him up!” Dave exclaimed.
“But then, he’d never live at surface
levels. But our great, sea-green octopus, I do
believe, could live anywhere. I’m going after
him!”</p>
<p>Most interesting of all—and most baffling—was
the picture Johnny had taken of the great,
slow-moving thing seen in the open water far
from the rocks.</p>
<p>“Oh, that!” exclaimed Dave, as it began coming
out in the film, “that’s really a monster
for you!”</p>
<p>“If it <i>is</i> a monster,” said Johnny, in a tone
of mystery.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_77">[77]</div>
<p>Whatever it might be, the picture only
added to the mystery. Too far away, too
indistinct to be seen clearly, the thing might
have been a whale, or some other form of
deep-sea monster. Truth was—deep down in
his heart Johnny believed it to be neither. His
theories were too fantastic to be put into
words—at the moment.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>Their afternoon ashore the following day
proved interesting, inspiring, and exciting.</p>
<p>They were served a grand meal of native
wild turkey, baked sweet potatoes and all
manner of delicious, tropical fruits. After that,
Mr. Kennedy took Dave, Doris and the
professor for a look at some unusual wild
birds, nesting at the edge of the jungle.</p>
<p>Johnny settled himself comfortably in a
split-bamboo chair and gave himself over to
wondering and dreaming.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_78">[78]</div>
<p>Mildred had gone to supervise the washing
of her precious dishes—some of which dated
back to ancient buccaneer days—so Johnny
was alone with his thoughts. And strange
thoughts they were.... He recalled having heard
the bearded giant Kennedy saying to the
professor—too much absorbed in research to
pay much attention—“Those men, those Europeans!
They starve their own people, and use
the money to buy gunboats and cannon. They
are slaves—those people—slaves! If we don’t
watch out <i>we’ll</i> be slaves, too!... Look at this
Caribbean Sea! More important than the
Mediterranean ever was! And who’s to stop
them from taking possession of these islands?
Why, even the president of this poor little
Republic is in debt to them! Up to his ears!”</p>
<p>Was Kennedy right? Johnny wondered,
dreamily. What of that signal up there on the
ridge—the signal of the green arrow? Was <i>it</i>
operated by spies? And if so—what had they
been saying with those blinking lights?
What—</p>
<p>“Penny for your thoughts!” Mildred was
back.</p>
<p>“Not worth it.” Johnny stood up. “Tell you
what, though—I’ll play you a game!”</p>
<p>“What sort of game?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_79">[79]</div>
<p>“Game of the Green Arrow. The object is
to discover what it says!”</p>
<p>Drawing up a small table, Johnny spread a
notebook and some papers on it.</p>
<p>“Now,” he said. “Here’s a drawing of the
green arrow. Twenty-one green lights make the
arrow. Thirteen in a row,” he pointed out, “two
here, two there, and two more on each side
at the other end. The last eight blink all at
the same time, but the thirteen—only one at
a time. By their blinking they are conveying
messages. But what do they say? Here’s a set
of papers with records of their blinking, all
marked with numbers. If you can work that
out, you go to the head of the class!”</p>
<p>“I see. Easy as that!” Mildred laughed, and
promptly seated herself across from him.</p>
<p>After that, save for the lazy hum of bees
or the sudden whir of humming birds’ wings,
there was silence in the place....</p>
<p>Suddenly the girl sprang up. “Why, I—I’ve
got it!” she cried, excitedly.</p>
<p>“Just like that!” Johnny smiled.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_80">[80]</div>
<p>“Well, I certainly have! Listen! This is what
that first message says:</p>
<p>“<i>Keep a sharp lookout. There are counter-spies
afloat.</i>”</p>
<p>“WHAT! Gee willikens!” Johnny gazed at
her, truly amazed. “How could you make it
read like that?”</p>
<p>“Because that’s the way it <i>does</i> read!” she
raced on. “It’s really easy. There are twenty-six
letters in the alphabet. Having thirteen lights
suggests that they have split that twenty-six
<i>in two</i>. Each light must stand for <i>two</i> letters.
But the question is—which two? Well, the <i>top</i>
thirteen stand for A, B, C, etc. But what
about the bottom ones?</p>
<p>“The simplest way,” she leaned forward,
smiling, “would be to put the <i>last</i> thirteen
letters under the <i>first</i> thirteen! Then, blinking
<i>one</i> light for <i>two</i> letters, let the fellow receiving
the message see <i>which</i> of the two letters makes
sense.</p>
<p>“I tried that,” she went on “and it didn’t
make any sense at all, so I ran the <i>last</i>
thirteen, backwards. By trying each of the two
possible letters in each instance, I got the
message I just read to you.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_81">[81]</div>
<p>“Which must be just about right,” Johnny
breathed. “Mildred—you’re a wonder! Now let
the old green arrow blink! We’ll always know
what it’s saying—and we may make some
startling discoveries.” With that he seized her
hands and whirled her wildly about the broad
porch.</p>
<p>“List—listen,” she panted, as, quite out of
breath, she dropped into a chair, “what’s
that?”</p>
<p>“Natives singing, I suppose” said Johnny,
“they are fond of singing.”</p>
<p>“Those singers are not natives!” The girl
held up a hand for silence. “They never sing
like that. Besides—all those voices are men’s!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_82">[82]</div>
<h2 id="c7"><span class="small">CHAPTER VII</span>
<br />MYSTERY SINGERS OF THE NIGHT</h2>
<p>Mildred was leaning forward, lips parted,
listening intently.</p>
<p>“What are they singing?” she whispered.</p>
<p>“I can’t make it out,” was Johnny’s slow
reply. “Too far away. Besides—it doesn’t
sound like English, at all.”</p>
<p>“Now,” she said, softly, “now it is coming
out stronger.” A sudden breeze wafted the
distant voices toward them.</p>
<p>“It’s a funny old song,” said Johnny. “I’ve
heard it somewhere. Perhaps it’s from light
opera.”</p>
<p>“But how strange to be singing that, here!
Who could they be?”</p>
<p>“Who knows?” Johnny answered slowly.</p>
<p>“Now they’re coming closer,” he said a
moment later. “Must be eight or ten of them!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_83">[83]</div>
<p>“Suppose they come all the way?” She
gripped his arm firmly. “That would be—”</p>
<p>“I think we’ll take care of ourselves,
Mildred.” His tone was deeply serious. “Some
time,” he added, reflectively, “we’ll go up to
that ancient castle that was a fort—and,
perhaps, a prison!”</p>
<p>“We might, some day. Only—”</p>
<p>“Only what?”</p>
<p>“It might be dangerous.”</p>
<p>“Poof!—What is danger?”</p>
<p>“I know. That’s the way I feel, sometimes.
What’s the use of being afraid of—of anything?</p>
<p>“But we’d have to find the right trail,” she
added. “Those hills are terrible. They’re all cut
up with ravines. There are animal trails and
native trails running everywhere. It—it’s
almost impossible to keep them straight.”</p>
<p>After that, for a time, they were silent. The
sound of singing, coming ever closer, increased
in volume. The tunes changed, but not once
could they understand the words. It was
strange.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_84">[84]</div>
<p>Somewhere in the jungle a jaguar screamed
Nearer at hand some night-bird sang: “Oh—poor—me!
Oh—poor—me!”</p>
<p>“It’s dark,” Johnny whispered. “Seems like
the folks should be back?”</p>
<p>“They were going quite a distance, and anyhow
they took flashlights.”</p>
<p>To Johnny, the place suddenly seemed deserted
and silent. Seeing a high-power rifle in
the corner, he picked it up and threw back
the catch. It was loaded. He set it back
without a sound.</p>
<p>“There!” The girl’s sudden exclamation
startled him. “They’ve stopped singing! I
expected that!”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“I don’t believe they knew anyone lived here.
I could tell all the time just how far they were,
on the trail. I’ve heard natives singing over
that trail a hundred times. The sound changes
when they reach the clearing.”</p>
<p>“And you think—?”</p>
<p>“I think that when they reached the clearing
they were surprised. They didn’t want to be
seen. That’s why they stopped singing. Now
they must be going back.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_85">[85]</div>
<p>“Or—coming on!” Johnny stepped to the
corner and took up the rifle.</p>
<p>“No!” the girl’s tone was decisive. “They’ve
turned back.”</p>
<p>A moment passed in silence;—two—three—four—five.
Then the girl sprang silently to her
feet.</p>
<p>“Come!” she gripped his hand. “Let’s go
have a look!”</p>
<p>Astonished, Johnny caught up the rifle and
followed. Never had he known anyone who
could get over a jungle trail so fast in the
night. She carried a flashlight, but seldom
used it. Three times she paused to listen. The
third time, as Johnny stirred slightly in the
path, she whispered:</p>
<p>“Shish!”</p>
<p>“Sounds like oars,” Johnny whispered back.</p>
<p>“It <i>is</i> oars!” came back in a barely audible
whisper.</p>
<p>“Then they came by boat.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_86">[86]</div>
<p>“Yes. Come on!” Once more she gripped his
hand and this time they advanced slowly,
cautiously. Not a twig snapped.</p>
<p>Once again they paused as a low, bumping
sound reached their ears.</p>
<p>A moment more and they came out of the
jungle, on a broad, sandy beach. Instantly
Johnny’s well-trained eyes swept the sea. The
moon was just rising. It painted a golden path
across the waters, far into the distance. But
there was no sign of a boat.</p>
<p>“Can you beat that!” Johnny murmured,
softly.</p>
<p>“We must have been mistaken,” said Mildred,
wonderingly.</p>
<p>“Only we were not!” Johnny thought. But
he made no comment.</p>
<p>Gripping his arm, the girl led him along the
beach until they came upon a mark in the sand.</p>
<p>“A boat was pulled up here,” she said,
positively.</p>
<p>Johnny threw a gleam of light on the spot.
“Queer sort of mark,” he murmured. “No
regular boat! It’s like the mark a white man’s
boat would make—or perhaps a collapsible
boat.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_87">[87]</div>
<p>A moment later his eyes caught a faint
gleam. Pretending to examine the sand, he
stooped over to pick up a metal disc. Without
knowing just why, he thrust it into his pocket.</p>
<p>“What she doesn’t know won’t worry her,”
he told himself a moment later.</p>
<p>“Well,” Mildred said, in a tone of forced
cheerfulness, “this seems to be the end of the
search. Let’s go back.”</p>
<p>“O.K.”</p>
<p>They turned about and were soon threading
their way back through the jungle. “Johnny,”
she said at last, “We need our boat more than
ever, now.”</p>
<p>“For protection as well as profit?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Ask Dave to take you down in the steel
ball,” Johnny suggested. “He’ll do it, I’m sure,
as he’s in love with the professor’s invention.
Can’t say I blame him, either. After that—ask
him to help find your boat”.</p>
<p>“I’ll ask him tonight, if he’ll take me down.”</p>
<p>And she did.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_88">[88]</div>
<p>“What’s that?” Dave asked, as they all sat
on the porch, a little later. “You want to go
down in our steel ball?”</p>
<p>“Yes. Yes—I—I’d like to.” The words took
real courage, as she did <i>not</i> want to. In fact—she
was dreadfully frightened at the thought.
And yet—</p>
<p>“Well,” said Dave, “I don’t see why you
shouldn’t—tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“To—tomorrow?” She shuddered slightly,
but he could not see her, in the dark.</p>
<p>“Yes, tomorrow. There’ll be no picture-taking.
I’m going after a sea-green monster—probably
the largest octopus anyone ever saw!”</p>
<p>“Oh—o—o!”</p>
<p>“He won’t get <i>you</i>,” Dave laughed. “Can’t
get inside the ball. What do you say? Is it
a date?”</p>
<p>“Yes—I—yes! Yes! Sure it is!”</p>
<p>“Fine! Can you be on board at eight in the
morning?”</p>
<p>“Yes—I—I’ll be there. Thanks—thanks a
lot!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_89">[89]</div>
<p>“Well,” she whispered to Johnny a short
time later. “He’s going to take me down!
Tomorrow! And I’m scared pink!”</p>
<p>“You needn’t be,” Johnny laughed. “It’s
safer than an auto on Michigan Avenue in
Chicago! And just think—you’ll be the first
young lady ever to go down five hundred feet
beneath the surface of the sea! At least, I imagine
you will!”</p>
<p>“That,” she replied with a slightly unsteady
chuckle, “will be a very great honor!”</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>As Johnny changed to heavier clothes for his
watch, later that night, the disc he had found
on the beach, fell from his pocket.</p>
<p>He picked it up and realized instantly that
it was a button from a uniform jacket.</p>
<p>“So that’s it!” he murmured, as he buried it
deep in his pocket.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_90">[90]</div>
<p>A night on this tropical river, into which they
had come for easier access to the Kennedy
cottage, was a new and interesting experience
for Johnny. Mangrove trees, growing far out
over the river, all but touched the deck. A
troop of monkeys, apparently planning to cross
the river on swinging branches, came chattering
along to burst into a sudden frenzy of fear
and anger at sight of this intruder. Crocodiles
floated lazily on the dark surface of the water.
Their eyes shone like balls of fire when
Johnny’s flashlight was directed at them.</p>
<p>From the far distance came the singing of
men and women, a native chant. A little later,
paddles gleaming in the light, some of the
singers floated past. Their large dugout was
loaded with all manner of tropical fruits—bananas,
pineapples, wild oranges and mangoes.</p>
<p>“What a life,” Johnny murmured, as the
natives drifted past. He thought of the
conditions of thousands of persons in the great
cities of America—then looked out again at
that boatload of people. It would be grand,
he thought, to live here forever. And yet, there
were the spies, and debts to those Europeans.</p>
<p>“Debts,” he sighed, “that haunt them till
they die.”</p>
<p>Doris came on deck. “You just <i>can’t</i> sleep on
such a night!” she sighed. “It’s too wonderful—the
river, the moonlight, and the dark, mysterious
jungle at night.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_91">[91]</div>
<p>“And the spies,” Johnny added. “Don’t
forget them!”</p>
<p>“The—the spies?” She stared at him.</p>
<p>He told her of his adventure with Mildred,
and, of the mysterious night singers.</p>
<p>“They vanished,” he ended. “Vanished into
thin air. And they had a boat of some sort.
We saw its mark in the sand.”</p>
<p>“How thrilling! How sort of spooky!” she
murmured.</p>
<p>“And there’s the code of the green arrow,”
Johnny added. “We solved that—or rather
Mildred did.” He explained it to her.</p>
<p>“That sounds dangerous.” She seemed a little
startled. “But it—it doesn’t affect us, does it?”</p>
<p>“No—oo—not directly,” he responded. “But
they are spies, all right! Their message shows
that. You can’t have counter-spies without
first having spies. If they should chance to
think that <i>we</i> are the counter-spies, and that
we’re watching them from the steel ball, and—”</p>
<p>“The steel ball! How <i>could</i> we?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_92">[92]</div>
<p>“Well,” Johnny replied slowly, “perhaps we
couldn’t. That was just a notion. But we <i>could</i>
be counter-spies.”</p>
<p>“But we’re not!”</p>
<p>“That,” he laughed, “is what they may not
know.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you and your spies!” she exclaimed.
“You’re always taking the joy out of life.
Look at that moon!”</p>
<p>“I have been looking at it. Big as a barrel!”</p>
<p>“Gorgeous,” she agreed. “Do you know?” she
stepped over to the rail. “I’ve been thinking
of that picture you suggested—the one painted
beneath the sea. It would be wonderfully
colorful—all those bright, tropical fish, the
waving water-ferns, the coral, and all that. I’m
going to try it, some time. Only—”</p>
<p>“Only what?”</p>
<p>“The sharks.”</p>
<p>“They won’t trouble you. I’ll stay on deck
and watch. If anything comes after you, I’ll
be right down. Is it a bargain?”</p>
<p>“I’ll do it.” She put out a hand and,
solemnly, they “shook” on it.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_93">[93]</div>
<p>Ten minutes later Johnny was alone with his
thoughts, and the night. They were long, long
thoughts. He was working out a theory about
the messages of the Green Arrow, and the
whisperings beneath the sea.</p>
<p>One question brought him up with a start.
If these people were foreign spies—why did
they speak in <i>English</i>? For a time, this was a
poser. But then the answer came, and he threw
back his head and laughed! Foreign spies, sent
to America would be <i>required</i> to speak English!
If they were keeping in touch with some of
their own people by short-wave—<i>of course</i> they
would speak English! Otherwise, anyone listening-in
on their messages, would instantly
suspect them.</p>
<p>That the messages of the green arrow also
were in English, was not so easy to explain.
“Perhaps talking and sending messages in
English, has become force of habit with them,”
he told himself.</p>
<p>The night was long, too, and he was tired.
He rejoiced when the first flush of dawn told
him a new day was here.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_94">[94]</div>
<p>Dave came on deck early. “We’ll be getting
out of here at eight,” he said. “I guess you
know that I’m taking Mildred down below,
today. It’ll be interesting to see how a girl
reacts to all that strange environment. She
seems a bit timid. But she asked for it. So—”</p>
<p>“There’s someone <i>I’d</i> like to take down,”
Johnny said, suddenly.</p>
<p>“Who?” Dave questioned.</p>
<p>“Old Samatan.”</p>
<p>“In the name of goodness!” Dave exclaimed.
“Why?”</p>
<p>“He acts very queer about that steel ball—looks
as if he’d like to bite a chunk out of it,
and I don’t understand it.”</p>
<p>Johnny hesitated. “Perhaps if someone took
him down, it would clear up some mistaken
notions in his queer old head. He seems to
have a lot of influence with the other natives.
If anything should happen—”</p>
<p>“Nothing will happen.” Dave broke in. “This
is the quietest place in the world.”</p>
<p>“Do you think so?” Johnny asked, with a
little smile.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_95">[95]</div>
<p>Dave nodded, absently. “But if you’d like to
take Samatan down,” he added, “it’s O.K.
with me. Be a grand experience for the old
fellow. He’d never get over telling about it.”</p>
<p>“Soon?” asked Johnny.</p>
<p>“Any time you like,” was the answer.</p>
<p>Thanking Dave, Johnny ambled off to his
berth for a long and dreamless sleep.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_96">[96]</div>
<h2 id="c8"><span class="small">CHAPTER VIII</span>
<br />MONSTER OF THE DEEP</h2>
<p>Morning came and, for Mildred—the
ride in that steel ball.</p>
<p>Never in all her life had she been so
thrilled, and so frightened. Curled up inside
the sturdy metal sphere, she went down—down—down,
into the mysterious depths of the
ocean. The light from the quartz window
seemed bright blue, yet she experienced trouble
in distinguishing small objects within the ball.</p>
<p>The creatures outside the window were
strange beyond belief. Here a great school of
blue fish shot past. There a six-foot monster
with waving tail sped on in swift pursuit of
smaller fry. And a group of small, dark,
crab-like creatures wriggled their way across
the scene. A little farther from the window
loomed a dark wall. She shuddered at sight of
this. All too vividly she recalled Johnny’s account
of their harrowing experience on that
other day.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_97">[97]</div>
<p>At Johnny’s first suggestion that she accompany
Dave on this sub-sea journey, her
impulse had been to say quite definitely—“No!
I won’t go!”</p>
<p>But she had not said it. She just must have
Dave’s help in finding their schooner. So—she
continued to shudder as they went down—down—down.</p>
<p>Dave was at her side, saying never a word.
Staring at the passing scene, now throwing on
a powerful light, now switching it off again,
he appeared to have forgotten she was there.</p>
<p>It was to be a very short trip, perhaps only
half an hour. They were to make an attempt
to capture some fantastic sort of creature.
Mildred was thinking of this now, wondering
in a vague sort of way, how the capture was
to be made. Then suddenly, her thoughts were
interrupted. Her heart skipped a beat as Dave
exclaimed:</p>
<p>“Man! Oh, man!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_98">[98]</div>
<p>The steel ball was now close to the wall. For
the moment, at a command from Dave, it had
ceased dropping. Suddenly from a crevice in
the wall there glided a form resembling a
great golden serpent from a fairy tale.</p>
<p>“Zowie!” Dave chuckled, “he sure looks
dangerous—but he’s not. A golden-tailed serpent
dragon,” he explained. “They’re quite
rare.</p>
<p>“Now,” he spoke into his microphone,
“slowly downward.”</p>
<p>Once more the rocky ledge appeared to glide
upward.</p>
<p>“Should be there soon,” Dave murmured.
“Only hope the old boy is at home. He
probably is. But we may miss him. It’s hard
to get the right location.”</p>
<p>For Dave this brief expedition had one
purpose—to capture the immense, sea-green octopus
he had seen on a previous trip. As they
continued to sink into the depths, his eyes remained
fixed on that wall. Then of a sudden
he exclaimed:</p>
<p>“There! There he is!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_99">[99]</div>
<p>Adjusting his microphone he said:</p>
<p>“Doris, we are here. Stop the cable drum.”</p>
<p>The ball ceased to sink. For a full moment
Mildred saw only a dark cavern in the wall.
Then suddenly she was startled to discover
two large eyes staring out at her.</p>
<p>A moment more and a long arm came wavering
toward them.</p>
<p>“Doris,” said Dave. His voice was steady.
“Have them swing us out a bit. Ten feet may
do.” Then, seconds later, he said: “There.
That’s it.”</p>
<p>He began working at something close beside
him. As Mildred watched the dark cavern she
saw an arm reach out, then another. For a
time these appeared to wave aimlessly. Then
they took direction. To her astonishment she
saw that a steel rod had swung outward
toward the octopus from the bottom of the
ball. At the end of this arm were steel clamps,
and in the clamps she saw a dead lobster. The
terrifying tentacles of the octopus, appearing
fully twenty feet long, were moving toward
the lobster.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_100">[100]</div>
<p>“The octopus feeds on shell fish—crabs and
lobsters,” Dave explained briefly.</p>
<p>“Now,” he breathed, as one long arm encircled
the steel clamps. “Now—I wonder what
luck.” Once again he worked at levers and
small handscrews at his side. The clamp out
there in the water half opened, then closed
again. This was repeated twice. Then:</p>
<p>“Ah! Got him!” Dave’s voice rose exultantly.
Into the phone he whispered, “Doris.
Out a little—and then up, at top speed!”</p>
<p>To her astonishment Mildred saw a great
mass of twisting arms emerge from the cavern.
One by one these arms wound themselves about
the steel ball. One of these, a great
scaly affair with little suckers on its underside,
crossed the window. With a little cry of
dismay she shrank back.</p>
<p>“He can’t get to you,” Dave laughed. “Even
if he could, he’d be harmless enough, unless he
drew you beneath the water and drowned you.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_101">[101]</div>
<p>“You see,” he added, “while the octopus was
working to get that lobster, I opened the
clamps. His arm slipped in, and I closed them.
Now he’s making himself comfortable for the
ride. It will be a longer ride than you might
suppose—all the way to the New York aquarium!
And boy! Will he be something to look
at! Largest ever captured, I’m sure—and sea-green
at that. This being a naturalist is the
berries, when things are right. All you have
to do—</p>
<p>“Hello!” he exclaimed. “Here we are at the
top, already. Now for some work.”</p>
<p>Before making any attempt to get the big-eyed
octopus into the ship’s pool for live specimens,
Dave assisted Mildred from the ball.
When she climbed forth, she felt a cold chill
course down her spine. Those great, scaly arms
were not a foot from her head. But they did
not move.</p>
<p>“Good boy, Dave!” the professor exclaimed
half an hour later, as they watched the octopus
surveying his prison tank in the <i>Sea
Nymph’s</i> hold. “That is a real prize! A few
finds like that and we will have more than
paid our way.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_102">[102]</div>
<p>“I like to think,” he added, quietly, “that we
are truly serving the millions of people whose
only chance to see rare creatures of land or
sea is in the zoos and aquariums.”</p>
<p>“I am sure it <i>is</i> a great service,” Mildred
exclaimed. “But professor! What spooky waters
those are down there!”</p>
<p>“Yes, they are spooky,” the professor agreed.
“But today, I take it, they were not whispering?”</p>
<p>“No,” the girl agreed. “The whisperer seems
to have vanished.”</p>
<p>“These little undersea journeys always make
me hungry,” said Dave. “Come on Mildred—let’s
have a cup of tea.”</p>
<p>Seated under a colored umbrella on deck,
they sipped their tea in silence. Mildred was
thinking—“I wonder if this is the time to ask
him?”</p>
<p>It was Dave who at last broke the silence.</p>
<p>“Well, Mildred,” he said, “you behaved very
well for the first time down. I was wondering—”</p>
<p>“If a girl could take it,” she smiled.
“Down here we just have to—all the time.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_103">[103]</div>
<p>“How so?” he asked in surprise. “In what
way?”</p>
<p>“Well, only a few days ago grandfather lost
his motorboat. It’s somewhere at the bottom
of the sea, but not far down. I wasn’t on
board when it sank. And now,” she hesitated,
“now fresh dangers appear to threaten us, and
we have no boat either for trading or—or for
escape!”</p>
<p>“Escape? Escape from what?” Dave ejaculated.</p>
<p>“Well, we might have to escape, you see.”
Mildred leaned forward eagerly. Her eyes
shone. “Grandfather always has opposed those
men—spies, really—who are trying to get all
the islanders under their control. So they hate
him. Just recently—”</p>
<p>She went on to tell of the code message
flashed by the green arrow and of other
strange and unexplained happenings. “Of
course,” she added, “nothing has been <i>done</i> yet.
But you never can tell.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_104">[104]</div>
<p>“And you want me to help you find that
motorboat of yours, with my steel ball? Am
I a good guesser?”</p>
<p>“You certainly are,” the girl replied, frankly.</p>
<p>“And you didn’t really want to go down in
the steel ball—you were terribly frightened by
the thought? But you believed it might help,
so—”</p>
<p>“So I went,” she breathed. “You don’t mind,
do you?”</p>
<p>“Mind?” he exploded. “I think you are a
grand, brave, little girl. If you were my sister,”—he
paused to grin good naturedly.</p>
<p>Smiling back at him, Mildred felt sure she
would be aided in her search for her grandfather’s
motorboat. The thought made her very
happy.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_105">[105]</div>
<h2 id="c9"><span class="small">CHAPTER IX</span>
<br />DAVE’S ELECTRIC GUN</h2>
<p>Once again it was night.</p>
<p>Johnny walked slowly back and forth
along the narrow deck. There was about him
on this night a sense of uneasiness, as if some
unusual thing was about to happen, or possibly
a whole succession of things, which might
change the whole course of his life.... That
very evening he had heard old Samatan making
a speech to the native crew—a fiery sort
of speech, with the men uttering grunts of
approval every now and then.</p>
<p>“I’ll take him down in the steel ball tomorrow,
if I get the chance,” Johnny assured himself.
“That should cool him off!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_106">[106]</div>
<p>Samatan, however, was not the only cause of
his uneasiness. There was the sign of the green
arrow, those singers, and the boat mark on the
beach—and Mr. Kennedy’s constant talk of
spies. All these, he felt, were part of a strange
pattern of events.</p>
<p>“The whole thing may blow up any time,”
he told himself. “And then what—” His
thoughts were interrupted suddenly. He sprang
forward. He could swear he had seen something
move near the steel ball.</p>
<p>“No one here now,” he murmured, circling
the ball, slowly. “Imagined it, I guess. My
nerves are jumpy tonight.”</p>
<p>A whole succession of small, dark clouds, high
in the heavens, had been passing before the
moon. One moment the deck was white with
moonlight; the next, it was dark as the deep
sea.</p>
<p>Johnny laughed softly, and found it helped
steady him. Taking another turn ’round the
steel ball, he walked past the open top of the
tank in which the giant, sea-green octopus was
kept. As he came alongside, there was a sudden
splash—as if the creature had thrown out
a long arm and allowed it to drop. It gave him
a real start. Suppose the monster reached out
for him and really made connections.
Suppose—</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_107">[107]</div>
<p>There was that darting shadow again. Or was
it? Just then a big cloud hid the moon.</p>
<p>“It’s nothing,” he assured himself. “Can’t
be. Crew’s all asleep. No chance of anyone
coming on board without being seen. Guess I’ll
have to take a good, long, drink of cold water.”</p>
<p>Going to the stern he obtained his thermos
bottle, uncorked it and drank.</p>
<p>Then he dropped into a steamer chair to await
the reappearance of the moon from behind
that big, black cloud.</p>
<p>The cloud still obscured it when, swift as a
shot, he leapt straight into the air, as from
the octopus tank came a shrill, hair-raising
scream of terror.</p>
<p>“Great Jehosophat!” he exclaimed as he
sprinted down the deck.</p>
<p>One flash of his electric torch showed a hand
waving wildly above the surface of the water.
An instant later a head bobbed up. Eyes wild,
nostrils dilated, the mouth opened in another
unearthly scream as the victim vanished beneath
the water, now thoroughly roiled by the
octopus’ savage threshing.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_108">[108]</div>
<p>Long slimy arms appeared—here, there—seemingly
everywhere. Then again, a man’s
head broke the surface.</p>
<p>But now Johnny was on the steel ladder,
reaching for the hand that had followed the
head above water. Seizing it, and wrapping his
left arm about a rung of the ladder, he pulled
with all his might. That he was taking his life
in his hands, he well knew. Those scaly arms
seemed to be feeling for <i>him</i>. If they reached
him—</p>
<p>All the while, Johnny was thinking, “Who
is this person and how did he get on board?”</p>
<p>Thanks to Johnny’s good right arm, the
man’s head remained above the surface. He
was a swarthy individual, with short-cropped,
black hair. Spitting out a quantity of water,
he whispered hoarsely:</p>
<p>“Don’t let him! Don’t let him pull me back
under!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_109">[109]</div>
<p>There came a sudden tug that all but broke
Johnny’s grip on the man’s hand. At the same
time, waving above the disturbed surface of
the tank, a long, slimy arm seemed to feel for
the boy on the ladder.</p>
<p>Then, to Johnny’s vast relief, came Dave’s
voice, calling:</p>
<p>“Johnny! Johnny Thompson! Where are
you?”</p>
<p>“Here! Here in the tank! Help—and <i>hurry</i>!”
Johnny shouted, desperately.</p>
<p>There came the sound of running feet along
the deck. At that very instant, a scaly tentacle
found Johnny’s wrist and wrapped itself
about the two hands, binding them together
as with a band of steel.</p>
<p>“Wha—what’s happened?” Dave threw a
flash of light on the fantastic scene. His quick
eye took it all in at a glance. “Hang on,
Johnny! I—I’ll be back in a jiffy!” Then he
was gone.</p>
<p>The tremendous power of that steady pull
from the tank, promised to wrench Johnny’s
arm from its socket. The stranger in the pool
uttered a low groan. Johnny’s mind went into
a tailspin, but he hung on desperately. How
would this end? Would Dave <i>never</i> arrive?</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_110">[110]</div>
<p>“Now!” came from above, and Dave was
back. In one hand he held an automatic, and
in the other, what appeared to be an iron rod.</p>
<p>“Get ready for an electric shock,” he said,
quietly. “I think this will fix him.”</p>
<p>He thrust out the rod until it touched one
arm of the octopus. Next instant, Johnny felt
a powerful electric shock that brought his
muscles up with a jerk. Again, and yet again
came the shock. Johnny could hear the
stranger’s teeth chatter. Then he saw the fellow’s
other hand. It was free. At the same time
the scaly thing about his wrist began to relax.</p>
<p>Giving a powerful pull, he lifted the stranger
half out of the water. Twenty seconds later
they both were free, and tumbled, panting, on
the deck.</p>
<p>For a full minute Johnny lay motionless.
When at last he sat up he said to Dave:</p>
<p>“Hang onto that gun. You may need it.”</p>
<p>Turning to the swarthy stranger he demanded:</p>
<p>“What were you doing on this boat?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_111">[111]</div>
<p>“I was just a-passin’ by, and took a notion
to climb aboard,” the stranger muttered.</p>
<p>“You are lying,” said Johnny. “You were
spying into things! Why?”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t spying! I don’t know what you’re
talking about,” said the man.</p>
<p>“I don’t think he’s a spy,” said Dave. “He’s
just some native.”</p>
<p>“Native, my eye!” snapped Johnny. He had
noted the outline of a long knife, showing
through the fellow’s wet garments.</p>
<p>By this time the native crew was swarming
up from below, and Doris and the professor
were standing in the shadows.</p>
<p>“Let the fellow go,” Dave whispered to
Johnny. “He’s just some native who happened
by in a dugout, saw our boat and thought he’d
have a look. He might have meant to steal
something, but you can’t prove that. We don’t
want to get these natives excited. They might
leave us in a body. Then where would we be?”</p>
<p>“Oh—all right,” Johnny agreed, reluctantly.
To the man he said: “Come with me.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_112">[112]</div>
<p>The man’s boat was tied to a belaying pin
up forward. As they walked in that direction,
Johnny and the intruder were out of sight of
the others, for a moment.</p>
<p>“I’ll just take this to remember you by,” said
Johnny, dragging the man’s knife from its
sheath. “If you’re a native—you should carry
a machete.”</p>
<p>The man favored him with a mocking smile,
then bolted over the rail into his small boat
and was gone.</p>
<p>“Well, that’s that!” said Johnny, as he
rejoined the others. “Here’s hoping he doesn’t
come back.”</p>
<p>“Johnny,” said Dave, “I wonder if you
weren’t making a whole lot out of a very
little.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps I was,” Johnny answered quietly.
He saw no point in arguing.</p>
<p>A moment later he said: “Dave—what was
that thing you shocked the octopus with?”</p>
<p>“That was an electric gun,” Dave laughed.
“We use it while we’re exploring the sea-bottom
on foot. If some big fish, like a shark, gets
too curious—we touch him and pull the trigger.
Believe me, they beat it!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_113">[113]</div>
<p>“It’s lucky I had it,” he added. “Otherwise
I’m afraid I should have been obliged to kill
our prize, and that would have been a great
loss. By the way, Johnny, how did that fellow
get into the tank?”</p>
<p>“Tumbled in, I suppose. Probably thought
he was going down into the hold to prowl
around.”</p>
<p>“I wonder why?” said Dave.</p>
<p>But Johnny didn’t see fit to discuss the matter
further.</p>
<p>After the others had retired again, Johnny
took the stranger’s knife to the light and examined
it closely. Never had he seen such perfect
workmanship. The blade was of hand-forged
steel, with a handle of old ivory. Two
foreign words were stamped on the blade.
Johnny could not read them, but he knew very
well this was no native’s knife.</p>
<p>“A spy, beyond a doubt,” he muttered.
“Wonder how many there will be tomorrow
night. Dave must let me have a gun!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_114">[114]</div>
<p>Just then the moon came out from behind a
cloud, flooding the deck with white light. What
a difference that made. All the mystery of the
night seemed to fade.</p>
<p>Johnny shrugged his shoulders and continued
to pace the deck.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_115">[115]</div>
<h2 id="c10"><span class="small">CHAPTER X</span>
<br />LITTLE BIG-HEADS</h2>
<p>Next day Johnny took Samatan for a
ride in the steel ball. He had supposed
it would be difficult, if not impossible, to
induce the dignified old native to accompany
him, but he was due for a surprise.</p>
<p>“Samatan,” he said pleasantly, “you know we
have been making trips far beneath the surface
of the sea in that steel ball.”</p>
<p>“Yes!” Suddenly Samatan was alert.</p>
<p>“Dave and I—we—well we thought you
might like to go down.”</p>
<p>“In the big ball?” The native’s eyes shone,
eagerly.</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s right.” Johnny answered.</p>
<p>“Today?” asked Samatan.</p>
<p>“If you wish.”</p>
<p>“In one hour,” said Samatan.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_116">[116]</div>
<p>An hour later, Samatan took his place beside
Johnny in the steel ball, watched the massive,
steel cap being screwed into place, felt the bump
of the ball on the deck, then sensed their drop
into the sea. All this—in stoical silence.</p>
<p>Down they went, a hundred feet—two hundred—five
hundred—a thousand. By the small
light at his side, Johnny watched the native’s
face. The expression never changed.</p>
<p>“He seems to be expecting something interesting
and exciting,” the boy told himself.
“Wonder what it could be. If he’s afraid, he
sure doesn’t show it.”</p>
<p>As they sank lower and lower, the darkness
increased. At last, as Johnny threw off the electric
light and all about them was inky black,
from the native’s lips came a hiss of surprise.
That was all.</p>
<p>When Johnny threw on a powerful light, the
look of expectation on Samatan’s face returned.</p>
<p>“Strange sort of person,” the boy thought.
“What can he be expecting to see?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_117">[117]</div>
<p>They were now standing still. The professor
on deck, had decided their descent had gone
far enough.</p>
<p>As Johnny sat staring into the inky blackness
before them, he gave a sudden start, then
snatched his camera. There, plainly in view,
was one of the strangest monsters he ever had
seen.</p>
<p>Scarcely had he adjusted his camera for a
picture, than a second creature appeared.</p>
<p>“Must be a school of them.” His hand trembled
a little.</p>
<p>Just as the camera clicked there began the
most amazing and terrifying experience of
Johnny’s eventful life. As though pushed by
a giant hand, as a child pushes a playmate in
a rope swing, the steel ball moved rapidly outward
and upward—although Johnny had given
no signal!</p>
<p>Outward and upward—one hundred—two
hundred—three hundred feet. Who could say
how far? What mysterious power motivated
this wild ride, and where would it end?
Would the cable snap?</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_118">[118]</div>
<p>Johnny made no effort to conceal the horror
reflected in his face by this thought. Sealed in
a steel ball, resting on the bottom of the sea,
half a mile or more below surface. What
chance? The boy’s lips moved, but no sound
came. Then, by sheer will power, he adopted
a calmer mood and waited the turn of events.</p>
<p>Samatan neither moved nor spoke. Strange
Samatan! Did he think this was part of the
show? And what had he been waiting so
patiently to see?</p>
<p>There was even greater consternation on
board the <i>Sea Nymph</i>.</p>
<p>Dave had gone ashore for a bit of dry-land
exploring but, with Doris at his side, the professor
stood watching the pumps that sent air
to the occupants of the steel ball. His gaze,
reflecting serious concern, was focused intently
on the gauge registering strain on the steel
ball’s cables.</p>
<p>“Doris!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Look,
Doris! <i>Look! The strain has doubled!</i> The cable
is perilously near the breaking point!”</p>
<p>“Poor Johnny!” Doris cried, distractedly.
“Down there with old Samatan! If the cable
breaks—”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_119">[119]</div>
<p>“If the cable breaks—no power on earth can
save them!” The professor’s voice dropped.
“The bottom must be a full mile down and I
doubt whether the ball could withstand the
terrific pressure. Nor is there any way we
could bring it to the surface!”</p>
<p>“What can be done?” Doris was wringing her
hands.</p>
<p>“Pray!” was the professor’s simple reply.
“Strange things are accomplished by prayer,
and faith.”</p>
<p>Doris <i>did</i> pray. Then they waited in silence.
Ten seconds ticked their way into eternity.
Twenty—thirty—sixty. The arrow of the
gauge moved nearer the “maximum strain”
point at the top of the dial—and stood still.
Then, for a brief second, it moved forward
again.</p>
<p>“The cable! It can never stand the torsion!”
the professor groaned.</p>
<p>Just as all seemed lost, the arrow quivered—and
began, slowly, to move the other way.</p>
<p>“Thank God!” exclaimed the professor, fervently.
“It—it’s going down, Doris, child.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_120">[120]</div>
<p>Staring at the dial, Doris opened her lips in
silent thanksgiving. She could only stand and
stare.</p>
<p>What had happened?</p>
<p>That was a question that remained unanswered
for weeks. Some tremendous power behind
the steel ball had pushed it away and up,
until its certain doom seemed inevitable.</p>
<p>Then, with a sudden, rolling lurch, the ball
had been freed and at once began sinking to
its original position. Fortunately, the resistance
of the water was so great, there was no danger
that the stopping of the descent would snap
the cable.</p>
<p>As they reached bottom position, Johnny
grabbed Samatan’s hand and gripped it, impulsively.</p>
<p>Then it was that the native said a strange
thing:</p>
<p>“You go bottom now?” he asked, hopefully.</p>
<p>“No,” said Johnny, happily. “But we are <i>safe</i>,
man! I’m signalling them to draw us up!”</p>
<p>“No go bottom?” There was a suggestion of
disappointment in Samatan’s voice.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_121">[121]</div>
<p>Suddenly Johnny thought he understood.
Samatan had expected to see bottom. That was
what he had wanted, and it explained his
strange eagerness to go down. But <i>why</i>? What
did he expect to see there?</p>
<p>Johnny, however, was far too eagerly awaiting
the first, faint gleam of light as they rose,
to think much more about Samatan’s behavior.</p>
<p>The strange “dawn beneath the sea” came to
him once again. Such a glorious dawn! He was
to live on! What a privilege it became, suddenly,
just to live! The ball rose free of the
water, to swing about and bump gently down
to the deck. A few moments later, the professor
and Doris were gripping his hands and demanding
to know what had happened.</p>
<p>“What in the world went wrong?” they
asked, in chorus.</p>
<p>“We ran into a school of monsters.” Johnny
was now able to laugh at his predicament.
“They must have taken us for a ride, I guess!”</p>
<p>“What kind of monsters?” The professor was
so serious his voice trembled.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_122">[122]</div>
<p>“You won’t believe me if I tell you,” the
boy replied, soberly, “but here goes. They had
heads twice as large as their bodies! And those
heads! If only their mouths had been a little
larger, they might have swallowed our steel
ball at one gulp!”</p>
<p>“Did they have a small lower jaw and a large
upper one? Were their eyes set well back on
the side of their heads? Did their tails wave
like those of some tropical fish?” The professor
was growing excited.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes, and yes,” Johnny laughed again.
“But say—I tried to take pictures of them!
Wonder if they could have been good! Wait
till I get my camera.” He made a dive into the
steel ball to reappear at once with the camera.</p>
<p>“But Johnny!” Doris insisted, “you haven’t
told us what really happened?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, and that’s a fact!” replied
Johnny, quietly, soberly. “I was just taking
pictures of those beasts when—”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_123">[123]</div>
<p>“They’re known as little big-heads,” the professor
broke in, “and they are rare, indeed!
You are the first person ever to see them alive.
Two specimens have been found washed up
on coral beaches, dead. You are a truly great
explorer, Johnny! You may now take a bow.”</p>
<p>“Aw, say!” Johnny fairly blushed.</p>
<p>“Anyway,” he insisted, “one of them must
have become tangled in our cable, and in his
wild efforts to free himself, took us for an
underseas joyride!”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t seem possible,” mused the professor,
slowly. “I should like to know what
really happened.”</p>
<p>“So should I!” Johnny agreed. “All I have
to say is—I’d like them to stay clear of our
cable, in the future! Please look at my hair!
Do you think it will turn white?”</p>
<p>“In thirty or forty years,” Doris laughed.
“But Johnny—we’re dying to see those pictures.”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes!—by all means!” the professor
agreed. “Let us see them at once.” So they
crowded into Johnny’s small darkroom to
watch the enthralling “coming out” of one
more set of plates.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>“Little big-heads,” the professor whispered
solemnly, as the pictures began to appear.
“Johnny, you are a wonder! Once again we
have registered a real triumph!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_124">[124]</div>
<p>“I’m glad of that,” Johnny said, sincerely.
“I like being a success. But even better—I
enjoy living!</p>
<p>“I’m sure I’ll not be able to sleep in the
dark for months to come,” he said, more lightly.
“I’ll be imagining I’m still in that steel
ball, swinging wide in utter darkness!”</p>
<p>“Johnny,” Doris whispered some time later,
“What <i>really</i> took you for that ride?”</p>
<p>“I could only guess—and it would be a wild
guess, at that!” There was a suggestion of
mystery in his voice. “I’m sure of one thing,
though. It wasn’t any little big-head!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_125">[125]</div>
<h2 id="c11"><span class="small">CHAPTER XI</span>
<br />TIGERS OF THE SEA</h2>
<p>Doris, standing on the ocean’s floor
forty feet down, started back in sudden
terror, and her foot struck a rock. She all but
fell over. On the beach she would have taken
a terrible tumble.</p>
<p>“It was just a shadow,” she told herself.
“Only a shadow moving beyond that great
rock. A blue shadow. Grandfather said I’d be
in no danger, and he should know.”</p>
<p>Involuntarily she put a hand over her wildly
beating heart, then smiled at her action and
at once felt better.</p>
<p>“I must finish,” she told herself, stoutly, as
she resumed her task.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_126">[126]</div>
<p>She was painting a picture. The circumstances
under which she worked were strange,
almost beyond belief. When Johnny had suggested
an underseas picture, she had been
truly thrilled. But she had shuddered and said,
“No!—I’d never dare do that!”</p>
<p>But—given one glimpse of the setting for
such a picture, she had become greatly excited.
“Such colors! Such contrasts! Yes—I surely
must paint it!” she had exclaimed.</p>
<p>The task now was well begun. She was wearing
tennis shoes and standing on sand. Before
her a great anchor, red with rust, leaned
against a huge boulder. Beside the anchor was
a copper-bound chest. One might easily have
imagined that this chest contained Spanish
treasure—gold, diamonds, rubies. But it was
empty, as Doris already had discovered.</p>
<p>The gray rock that supported the anchor
was festooned with vegetation of rare hues—red,
orange, pink, yellow, and deep dark blue,
mingled in profusion. In and out among these
plants darted small creatures which might almost
have been birds. The girl was wearing a
great brass helmet which hid her face. She was
looking through glass, at a world unbelievably
strange and beautiful.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_127">[127]</div>
<p>Above her, its shadow looming darkly, lay
the <i>Sea Nymph</i>. Descending from the boat was
a long tube that supplied her with air. A constant
trickle of bubbles escaped from beneath
her helmet. Her easel was weighted down, and
her canvas specially treated to resist water.
Her brushes and colors were the same she had
used on the sunny, tropical shores.</p>
<p>But the scene! How she thrilled to it! And
she was painting it as truly and exactly as
she could. Perhaps thousands who never had
been beneath the surface of the water would
look at this picture and wonder at its coloring.</p>
<p>Thrilled at the thought, she painted more
industriously than ever, forgetting entirely the
blue shadow. She had searched long for a spot
that would make the most interesting picture.
She had wandered, fascinated, until she had
chanced upon this anchor and strong box, lost
so long before.</p>
<p>It was indeed wonderful. With a background
of ivory and pink coral, purple plumes of seaweed,
fringes of lace-like anemone, in a framework
of water-washed rocks—it made a scene
not soon to be forgotten.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_128">[128]</div>
<p>So here she was, painting rapidly—though
far back in her mind was the memory of that
blue shadow behind the rock....</p>
<p>The scene was forever changing. A cloud
passing over the sun, dimmed the colors. Then
a large school of small fish, darting forward
at a furious rate, completely shut off her view.</p>
<p>But now! “Ah, now!” she thought, joyously.</p>
<p>A dozen tropical fish, the brightest and best
she ever had seen, came to play about the
ancient chest and “pose” for their pictures.
With quick, deft touches she painted them in—two,
staring large-eyed at the anchor—three,
peering into the ancient chest, and three just
“resting”.</p>
<p>But what was this?</p>
<p>Like a flock of birds that have caught sight
of a circling hawk, the tropical fish darted
swiftly away. Had they caught a glimpse of
a dangerous foe, gliding from behind the rock?
The girl thought so, and shuddered. She even
fancied she had caught its color again—dark
blue. But of this she could not be sure. Down
here all was so strange.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_129">[129]</div>
<p>“A villain,” she murmured to herself with
a low laugh. “The final touch to a gorgeous
setting.”</p>
<p>To quiet her shaky nerves she gave herself
more intensively to completion of her task.</p>
<p>“There is no danger,” she assured herself
again. “Grandfather says there is absolutely
none—and he has spent days on end on the
ocean’s floor.”</p>
<p>She recalled his very words: “Oh, yes, there
are sharks in these waters—but they won’t
harm you. If they should get curious and come
too close—poke them with your stick! I’ve done
that more than once.”</p>
<p>Scarcely had she gone over these reassuring
words when something startled her, anew. A
dark shadow appeared suddenly at her right.
She took one look, then laughed. “It’s only
a fish,” she thought.</p>
<p>Brushing away two tiny fish that had
managed to get themselves stuck to her canvas,
she began giving her work its final
touches.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_130">[130]</div>
<p>For ten full minutes she worked feverishly.
“My time is almost up,” she was thinking.
“They will be giving me the signal. Then up
I’ll go. But I do so want—”</p>
<p>Her thoughts were suddenly arrested. What
was that? She had felt the motion of water
against her body. “As if something passed—fast!”
she thought with a little shudder.
Turning slowly about, she peered through the
window of her brass helmet.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” she whispered. “Nothing but three
long, gray fish, over there. But what of that?
I—I’ll give my signal rope a pull,” she told
herself. “Just a minute more and I’ll do it.”</p>
<p>The minute stretched to two, three, four.
And then it happened. One of the long, gray
fish flashed like a streak of doom, straight
for the hand that held the paint brush. Missing
by inches, it collided with the easel, knocked
it to the sea floor and shot away in sudden
flight.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_131">[131]</div>
<p>The fish could not have been more frightened
than the girl. Suddenly she recalled wild
tales told by the natives about the vicious barracuda—“Tiger
of the Sea.” ... A woman had
dabbled a finger in the water—and one of these
fish snapped it off.... Swimmers had lost
toes.... She felt paralyzed with fear.</p>
<p>Then, like an act in some strange drama,
a pair of dangling legs appeared between her
and the gray terrors. The legs were followed
swiftly by a body, a brass helmeted head and
two hands, holding a sharp-pointed spear.</p>
<p>The spear shot out!</p>
<p>The gray terrors, like arrows from a bow,
flashed out of sight. It seemed to Doris that
no creatures ever had moved so rapidly beneath
the surface of the sea.</p>
<p>She watched the “apparition” in a helmet—which
she knew to be Johnny—take up her
easel and set it in position. She noted,
vaguely, that the picture had landed right side
up and was not harmed. Then Johnny turned
and held out his hand.</p>
<p>She expected to be taken straight up to the
ship’s deck. Instead, he led her a distance of
a hundred feet along the bottom. Then they
came to an abrupt halt, and Johnny pointed
straight down.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_132">[132]</div>
<p>She looked—and involuntarily stepped back.
They were standing on the very brink of a
yawning, watery precipice. Far down as one
could see was only blue-black depth. It was
an awe-inspiring sight.</p>
<p>As if to add to her amazement, she saw—perhaps
a hundred feet down—some large,
dark hulk. It was dim and indistinct as a
shadow, yet very real, as it moved slowly
along the cliff, to disappear in the blue-black
of the apparently bottomless ocean.</p>
<p>This had not been part of the planned show,
she knew at once from her guide’s actions. He
moved his arm, pointing excitedly.</p>
<p>A moment longer they stood there, looking
down. Then came the signal to come up. The
picture and paints were attached to the easel,
and a cord drew them up. All Doris had to
do was to give a little spring, and up, up, she
rose, to the glorious sunshine of a tropical day.</p>
<p>A quarter of an hour later, she and Johnny
were seated on the deck, laughing at one another
and scarcely knowing why.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_133">[133]</div>
<p>Dave and the professor had gone ashore to
study tropical bird life, so after the evening
meal, Johnny and Doris sat on deck watching
the play of phosphorescent creatures beneath
the surface of the sea.</p>
<p>“This,” said Johnny, “is my day off. Tonight
I sleep. Tomorrow old Samatan and I
are going for a sail in a large dugout, to visit
some coral reefs.”</p>
<p>Doris smoothed back her thick, golden hair,
fixed her bright blue eyes on him, and said:
“Why?”</p>
<p>“We need him for a friend,” Johnny replied,
quietly. “If <i>he</i> is with us—all the native crew
will be, too. He’s a leader.”</p>
<p>“You talk,” said Doris, “as if there were to
be war!”</p>
<p>“Who knows?” Johnny did not laugh. “Perhaps
there will be, but not just yet. There
are spies with us now!”</p>
<p>“How do you know?” She leaned forward in
her chair.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_134">[134]</div>
<p>“That man I caught on board the other
night, was a spy. Look!” He held up the exquisitely
wrought knife. “Do you think a native
would have such a gem of a knife? Not
a chance!</p>
<p>“Then—there’s the green arrow to prove he’s
a spy!” Johnny went on. “One of the messages
I spelled out by using their code read: ‘<i>Board
them. Discover all you can.</i>’”</p>
<p>“But why?” said Doris. “We’re not secret
agents.”</p>
<p>“That’s what <i>they don’t know</i>! We are Americans—and
they don’t want us around.”</p>
<p>“Know what?” Johnny continued, “I believe
that big thing that glides through the water—the
thing we saw today—is a submarine!”</p>
<p>“It can’t be!”</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>“Well, if it is—it must be an American submarine!”</p>
<p>Johnny looked at her for a moment in silence.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_135">[135]</div>
<p>“It’s not an American submarine,” he said,
after a time. “I’ve seen them, and this one’s
the wrong shape. It’s some spy submarine,
looking over the bottom of the sea and getting
information for the next war. I shouldn’t be
surprised if a large part of that war were
fought right in this Caribbean Sea!</p>
<p>“What’s more,”—he rose to his feet—“I’ll
bet a dollar that the thing that took Samatan
and me for a ride in the steel ball, <i>was that
same submarine</i>!”</p>
<p>“Trouble with you,” Doris laughed merrily,
“is too much imagination.”</p>
<p>“You just wait and see,” Johnny replied with
a smile.</p>
<p>The sound of oars at this moment, announced
the return of Dave and the professor
from their day’s explorations.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_136">[136]</div>
<h2 id="c12"><span class="small">CHAPTER XII</span>
<br />JOHNNY’S DAY OFF</h2>
<p>Next morning Johnny and old Samatan
sailed away toward the smiling face of
the rising sun.</p>
<p>“This is a grand dugout you’ve got!”
Johnny enthused.</p>
<p>Smiling, Samatan pulled a line, giving the
boat full sail. She tilted sharply. Boy and man
settled back against the pull of the sail and
sped along before the wind.</p>
<p>Johnny’s eyes took in the whole of the trim
little craft, and he smiled, contentedly.</p>
<p>It was indeed a great little dugout. Not so
small, either. Fully twenty feet long and six
feet wide, it had been hewn from a solid mahogany
log. The boy tried to estimate the number
of days of hard, careful work that would
have required, but gave it up.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_137">[137]</div>
<p>The inside surface was polished to the last
degree, and the seats were braided, cocoanut
fibre. On the prow, carved in the most perfect
manner, was the wooden image of a
seagull.</p>
<p>All unknown to Johnny, Samatan was keeping
an eye on him. His keen old mind read
the boy’s thought like a book. One lover of a
sailboat recognizes another, and since his tenth
birthday, Johnny had been an ardent sailboat
enthusiast. At that age he had rigged up a
square sail for a rowboat and had known
many happy hours on the water. The fact that
he had once capsized and barely escaped
drowning, had not in the least dampened his
ardor.</p>
<p>“We go coral reef. Catchem turtles for stew,”
Samatan said at last.</p>
<p>“How do you catch them?” Johnny asked.</p>
<p>“Samatan show you.”</p>
<p>After that there was silence.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_138">[138]</div>
<p>It became evident that Samatan was an expert
with a sail. The breeze picked up and the
sea became choppy, but the smiling old man,
eyes squinting, lay back at ease. Pulling first
at one rope, then another, he held the small
craft on her course.</p>
<p>Johnny laughed right out loud when at last
the old man took off his soft, loose shoes,
gripped the ropes with his toes and began
steering with his feet.</p>
<p>Two delightful hours passed. Then the dugout
slid up on a sandy shore.</p>
<p>When the boat had been pulled up, Samatan’s
eyes scanned the sandy beach. Suddenly
he went racing away and, with the silence and
speed of a great cat, stole up on an unsuspecting
turtle, basking in the sand. A quick leap—and
the turtle lay on its back, a prisoner.</p>
<p>“Food,” said the old man. “Much food from
the sea. But,” he added quietly, “we take only
what we need.”</p>
<p>When all the turtles needed had been stowed
away in the boat, they went for a walk on
the beach. They made a strange picture, this
bright-faced American boy and the old, brown
native whose face was wrinkled by many tropical
suns.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_139">[139]</div>
<p>Seldom had Johnny spent a more interesting
or exciting morning. They hung a heavy
cord over a rocky ledge to snare a sea-crab,
turned over a Hawk’s-bill turtle, whose shell
was worth eight dollars a pound, and chased
a monkey up a cocoanut tree.</p>
<p>They had wandered for two hours and were
far from the boat when, for no apparent reason,
Samatan uttered a low exclamation. Then
he faced squarely toward the ridge, which at
this place rose some twenty feet above the
beach.</p>
<p>“Huh!” he grunted. “We see!”</p>
<p>He dashed away at surprising speed, up the
hill. Tripping over vines and blundering into a
bramble bush, Johnny followed.</p>
<p>When at last he caught up with the agile
old man, Samatan was standing motionless,
looking off at the sea. For a full minute, lips
parted, eyes staring, they stood there in
silence.</p>
<p>For—stealing up on them like an enemy in
the night, a terrific storm was racing in from
the sea. It took but one word from Samatan’s
lips to complete the terror of the prospect.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_140">[140]</div>
<p>“Hurricane!” he said, gutterally.</p>
<p>“We must run for the boat!” Johnny sprang
down from the rock.</p>
<p>“Not go now. Too late!” Samatan did not
move. Instead, he stood looking along the
ridge, first this way, then that.</p>
<p>“The <i>Sea Nymph</i>!” Johnny broke out again.
“She will be lost!”</p>
<p>“Not get lost,” Samatan said, slowly. “Good
crew. Harbor not far.” Once again his eyes
swept the ridge.</p>
<p>“Come,” he said at last. “This way. We go
fast.” Even as he spoke, a gust of wind sweeping
in from the sea, all but threw the boy off
his rocky perch.</p>
<p>For ten minutes or more the two of them
fought their way along the ridge. At last
the native paused. “Here,” he said, “is most
high. Trees. Must climb these—quick! Waves
go all over coral reef!”</p>
<p>“Al—all right.” The rising gale blew Johnny’s
words down his throat. Seizing the low
branches of a large tree, he prepared to climb.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_141">[141]</div>
<p>“No! That bad tree! No good!” said Samatan.
“This one.”</p>
<p>Into Johnny’s mind at that moment came
the words of the professor: “When I am in a
strange land I do what a native will do—go
where he goes. If he says ‘No go’—I stay.”</p>
<p>So, without further questioning, the boy began
to climb Samatan’s tree.</p>
<p>The tree was short and sturdy. Soon they
were perched like crows on two limbs close
together. And in silence they watched the onrushing
storm. The sky was black. It was like
night. Scarcely could the boy see his companion.
Trembling with excitement, he decided to
force his thoughts from the impending hurricane.</p>
<p>“Samatan,” he said, “there was something
about our steel ball you did not like.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” came the instant reply. “Professor—he
is good man. Very good. But one thing must
not do. He must not!”</p>
<p>“He is going to tell me,” Johnny thought,
with quickening pulse.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_142">[142]</div>
<p>But at that moment there came such a roar
as would drown the strongest voice, and onto
the beach came the rush of a great sea. Something
like a tidal wave had struck the narrow
reef.</p>
<p>“I must hang on,” the boy thought. The next
instant he was engulfed in stinging salt water.
The sea had swept over the land.</p>
<p>Though Johnny felt that he was being swallowed
by the sea, it was in reality only the
froth and foam of the monster wave that
reached him. One instant he was gasping for
breath, the next, he was looking down on a
madly whirling world.</p>
<p>The thought that struck him first, with the
force of a blow, was—“the tree I meant to
climb is gone! Swept away by the sea!”</p>
<p>It was true. The tree, rotten at the roots,
had vanished. Samatan had saved his life, and
a new sense of respect for the aged native
swept over Johnny. With it came the conviction
that whatever it was the old native
wanted from the professor, it must be right
for him to have it. And something seemed to
assure Johnny that he would hear the story
without asking.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_143">[143]</div>
<p>But at that moment, to talk at all was impossible.
The shrieking of the wind, the cracking
of branches, the roar of thunder and the
mad tumult of the sea, were completely deafening.
Johnny wondered how long it would
last? Would greater waves come? Would he and
Samatan at last be swept into the sea? To all
these questions he found no answer.</p>
<p>In an effort to forget the terror of the situation
he made himself think once more of
the great steel ball and his adventures beneath
the sea....</p>
<p>In the meantime his companions on the <i>Sea
Nymph</i> were witnessing a feat such as even
the gray-haired captain never had seen
equaled. Watching the storm, yet fearing for
the safety of Johnny and Samatan and hoping
against hope that they might return, they on
the yacht had delayed lifting anchor.</p>
<p>When at last they headed toward the narrow
entrance of a natural harbor, the wind tore
their sails to ribbons, while waves, mountain-high,
swept them toward a rocky wall.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_144">[144]</div>
<p>In despair, the captain trusted the fate of
his ship to the native crew. Nor did he trust
in vain. With a few yards of sail at their command
the natives, in the midst of dashing
spray, clung to spar and masthead, turning the
graceful craft this way and that. Then—at
precisely the right instant—they seemed to lift
her from the sea and send her shooting through
a channel so narrow it seemed the paint would
be scraped from her two sides at once. They
sent her gliding smoothly to safety, in a harbor
as calm as a millpond.</p>
<p>“Bravo!” shouted the captain.</p>
<p>“Glorious!” the professor cried. “Never saw
such sailing! Those men deserve all praise!”</p>
<p>Six long hours the storm roared on, and for
six endless hours Johnny clung to his tree.
Though the sea, like some menacing monster,
appeared to thrust out long, white arms to
grasp him, he remained safely with Samatan,
in the tree top. At last, sweeping high overhead,
the storm-clouds raced away—to leave
a kindly, golden moon looking down on the
boy and the old man.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_145">[145]</div>
<p>“Come,” said Samatan, climbing gingerly
down from his perch. “We go back.”</p>
<p>“Back to what?” Johnny’s lips framed the
words he dared not speak.</p>
<p>Their trail back over the moonlit beach was
strange beyond belief. They climbed over a
huge old palm tree, lying on the ground,
stumbled on a giant, loggerhead turtle, killed
in the storm, and slipped on jellyfish left high
on the ridge.</p>
<p>As they rounded a bend in the beach, a large
object loomed before them, white and ghostly
in the night.</p>
<p>“Boat,” said Samatan.</p>
<p>“Lifeboat,” the boy amended as they came
closer.</p>
<p>Examining it closely he read the words:
“S. S. Vulture”. Bashed in at the prow, the
boat lay empty, upside down. What was its
story? Had the Vulture been wrecked? Had
part of her crew put to sea in this boat, only
to perish?</p>
<p>With a shudder, Johnny pushed on behind
his tireless guide.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_146">[146]</div>
<p>“Our boat must be gone,” he ventured at
last.</p>
<p>Samatan made no reply.</p>
<p>More fallen palms, tangled sea moss,
jellyfish, a dead crocodile, a mile of sand, and
then—Johnny rubbed his eyes. He opened
them to look again.</p>
<p>“Our boat!” he exclaimed.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Samatan said.</p>
<p>It was true. The boat was safe. Piled with
seaweed and half-buried in sand, it remained
where they had left it.</p>
<p>A brief examination redoubled the boy’s admiration
for the aged native. The dugout had
been chained to a stout, palm stump. Even
the sail was lashed beneath the seat. Samatan
had taken all these precautions before there
was any sign of a storm. Wise old Samatan!</p>
<p>In awed silence Johnny helped to clear the
sand and seaweed away.</p>
<p>“Now we go,” said Samatan, preparing to
launch the boat.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_147">[147]</div>
<p>If Johnny had admired Samatan’s sailing before,
his admiration was doubled now. Up—up—up
they glided, until they seemed ready
to touch the stars, then down—down, far into
the trough of a wave.</p>
<p>“Samatan.” Johnny spoke without thinking.
“Why do you hate our steel ball?”</p>
<p>“Hate? Ball?” Samatan struggled for the
right word. “Good man, professor. But must
not steal natives’ gold!”</p>
<p>“Gold?” Johnny ejaculated. “I don’t understand.”</p>
<p>The tale the old man told, then, out there
on the racing sea, was fantastic indeed. Yet
Johnny doubted never a word of it....</p>
<p>The islands now belonging to Samatan’s native
people once had been a French colony.
The French had made slaves of the natives,
and had brought in many more slaves. Then
the slaves revolted and drove all the Frenchmen
from the islands.</p>
<p>“After that—<i>our</i> land!” Samatan declared
proudly. “Long time republic. Long time
everybody happy. Then,” his voice dropped,
“how you say it—came bad man. Very hard
man. Very cruel. Make people work too hard.
Want gold. All gold. By and by want kill that
man, my people.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_148">[148]</div>
<p>“This bad man see strange men come—many
men.” Samatan continued. “They put
gold in chest—much gold—and dump in sea.</p>
<p>“Now,” Samatan sighed, “bad man dead.
Gold lost. Never find that gold, my people.
Belong my people—that gold! Find gold—my
people pay debts. Very happy. But now,” he
frowned, “Professor, he hunt gold with steel
ball. Wanna keep that gold, you think, that
professor?”</p>
<p>“Oh, no! No!” Johnny laughed. “The professor
is not looking for treasure! Only
strange fishes, all sorts of odd creatures that
live beneath the sea.”</p>
<p>“Not wanna find gold?” The old man was
plainly puzzled.</p>
<p>“Oh, sure—I s’pose he’d <i>like</i> to find it,”
Johnny laughed. “And—we’ll really try to—now
that we know about it. But if we <i>do</i> find
it, you may be sure it will all be for your
people—to the last doubloon!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_149">[149]</div>
<p>“Good boy, Johnny.” The old man smiled
broadly. “Good man, Professor. All good.
Everybody!”</p>
<p>“I see a light,” said Johnny. “That must be
Kennedy’s place.”</p>
<p>“Right, Kennedy.” said Samatan. “By and
by we come that place.”</p>
<p>“That,” said Johnny, “will be swell!” Then
his brow wrinkled. Where, he wondered, was
the <i>Sea Nymph</i>? Did it make harbor safely?
He sighed as he reflected that soon he would
know the answer—for better or worse!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_150">[150]</div>
<h2 id="c13"><span class="small">CHAPTER XIII</span>
<br />THE GREEN ARROW TRAIL</h2>
<p>While Johnny was going through his
wild adventure, Doris and Dave were
not without their own exciting moments. Of
course while the storm lasted, the professor’s
party remained inside the <i>Sea Nymph’s</i> cabin.
As soon as it abated they immediately went
ashore.</p>
<p>Troubled as they were at thought of
Johnny’s possible fate, there was for the moment
nothing they could do. The seas were still
running high. Dave and the professor went for
a tramp in the jungle, while Doris followed the
trail to the Kennedy home.</p>
<p>Mildred appeared greatly worried when told
of the journey Johnny and Samatan had
undertaken.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_151">[151]</div>
<p>“But why did Johnny go?” she asked in
surprise.</p>
<p>“Oh,” replied Doris, “he had a notion that
Samatan was angry about something. He said
we might need the help of Samatan and his
men.”</p>
<p>“How?” Mildred asked.</p>
<p>“That’s it—how?” Doris laughed uneasily.
“He thinks there are many European spies
around here!”</p>
<p>“Well—there are!” Mildred nodded her head
vigorously.</p>
<p>“You, too?” exclaimed Doris. “But anyhow,
Johnny thinks the spies believe <i>we</i> are looking
for <i>them</i>—and that they’d do something terrible
to us.”</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Mildred.</p>
<p>“How comforting you are!” Doris smiled ruefully.
“Just when I want to feel quiet in my
mind! You aren’t helping a bit!”</p>
<p>“Well,” said Mildred, “how can I? There
were those men singing in some foreign
tongue. They just vanished! And there’s that
mysterious, blinking green arrow.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_152">[152]</div>
<p>“Two of them,” Doris corrected. “One on
land and one on sea—like Paul Revere!” she
chuckled mischievously.</p>
<p>“But of course,” she added more seriously,
“there was the man who came on board our
boat, sneaking around, and went into a huddle
with the octopus! That would have been
funny had it not been so terrible. He had a
knife that Johnny says no native would carry.
But I don’t see—”</p>
<p>“There are a lot of things we don’t see!”
Mildred broke in. “For instance—who was that
whisperer who was always breaking in when
Dave and Johnny in the steel ball were being
dragged against the rocks?”</p>
<p>“He might have been a thousand miles
away. Radio’s like that,” Doris said, doubtfully.</p>
<p>“Yes-and he might not!” Mildred exclaimed.
“He appeared to know too much
for that.”</p>
<p>“One more thing,” Doris laughed. “Johnny
thinks there is a submarine—a foreign one—in
these waters!—He thinks we saw it, and
that <i>it</i> was the thing that dragged the steel
ball, that day!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_153">[153]</div>
<p>“I shouldn’t wonder a bit,” said Mildred.</p>
<p>“Oh, bother your ‘shouldn’t wonder’!” exclaimed
Doris, good naturedly. “Come on, let’s
take a walk. It will be good for our nerves!</p>
<p>“But I’ll tell you one thing,” she added as
they started off. “If I believed <i>half</i> the things
you do—I’d be getting out of here!”</p>
<p>“It’s not so easy,” Mildred replied, soberly.
“Grandfather is a dear. It would be a shame
to leave him alone. Of course he says he’s
going to send me back to college in the fall,
and I suppose I shall go. College means so
much these days.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Doris agreed, “I’m sure it does.”</p>
<p>“But he can’t do that unless we get our motorboat
up from the bottom,” said Mildred.
“And even after that—there are the spies.”</p>
<p>“Spies! Always spies!” Doris laughed. “Let’s
forget them!”</p>
<p>“O.K. Let’s do,” the other girl agreed.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_154">[154]</div>
<p>The trail they had chosen led to the beach
where the mysterious male chorus had disappeared.
Arrived at the beach where the waves
were now racing, they stood for a time in silence.
When a piece of driftwood—the broken
side of a native dugout—came floating in,
Mildred turned away with a shudder, her
thoughts on Johnny.</p>
<p>Having wandered into the jungle a short distance
she stopped suddenly to stare at the
trunk of a tree. There, standing out against
the smooth gray bark, was a small, green
arrow!</p>
<p>“Doris!” she called. “Come here!”</p>
<p>“Green arrow!” Doris exclaimed, reaching
Mildred’s side. “What do you suppose it
means?” she whispered.</p>
<p>“It’s a trail marker!” said Mildred. “There
should be others. Come on!”</p>
<p>There were others! Some were quite far up
on the trees, while others were low. They continued
the search for ten minutes, steadily
finding others.</p>
<p>Doris was frightened and did not wish to
go on. At every turn of the trail she expected
to come upon a freshly made clearing, a cluster
of tents and a whole army of strange warriors.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_155">[155]</div>
<p>But Mildred thought of but one thing....
Perhaps they were on the road to a real discovery.</p>
<p>As they went deeper and deeper into the
jungle, the green arrows became scarcer, and
harder to find. The trail grew steeper and
narrower. Thorny bushes tore at them, and
once a great snake crossed their path. Unused
to all this, Doris was distinctly uneasy. But
Mildred’s face fairly shone.</p>
<p>However, when they came to a place where
the trail split into three narrower ones and,
search as they might, they could not find a
single arrow, Mildred, too, was ready to
give up.</p>
<p>“Come on,” said Doris. “It will soon be
dark, and I must get back to the boat. They
may want to put out, in search of Johnny and
Samatan.”</p>
<p>“You’re right,” said Mildred. “We must be
starting back. But—I’m coming back here
again!”</p>
<p>“Alone?” Doris stared.</p>
<p>“Perhaps.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_156">[156]</div>
<p>The journey back to the Kennedy home was
made in silence.</p>
<p>By the time the girls had eaten their evening
meal it was completely dark. Wandering
down to the beach they listened to the diminishing
roar of the sea, and watched its
strange blackness against the moon’s golden
light.</p>
<p>“There’s a light!” Doris exclaimed.</p>
<p>“Yes, sir! And it blinks!” Mildred became
excited.</p>
<p>After watching for a full minute, she suddenly
threw her arms around her companion
to exclaim: “Oh! Doris! That’s Johnny! It is—it
surely is! Sometimes he blinks his light from
the ship that way—one, two, three—one, two,
three! Oh, it’s wonderful! Aren’t you glad?”</p>
<p>“Of course I’m glad,” said Doris. “But
then—men always do manage to get back one
way or another, don’t they?”</p>
<p>“Oh! Oh, no!” Mildred caught her words.
“They don’t—nowhere near ‘always’.”</p>
<p>Just then Dave and the professor came down
to the beach.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_157">[157]</div>
<p>“We think it’s Johnny and Samatan,” Doris
said quietly.</p>
<p>“Good!” said the professor. “That lifts a
load from my shoulders!” He turned to speak
to Mildred, but she had gone.</p>
<p>Ten minutes later, natives caught the dugout
and hauled it far up on the sandy beach.</p>
<p>After receiving the congratulations of his
shipmates, Johnny began flashing his light into
the surrounding darkness, searching for
Mildred. At last the beam came to rest on a
charming picture—a girl with reddish-golden
hair, wearing a dress of golden material, tied
at the waist with a broad red sash. All this—against
the greenish blackness of a jungle
night.</p>
<p>“Why!” Johnny exclaimed, as he caught her
hand. “The little beach-comber has turned into
a golden fairy!”</p>
<p>“P—please, Johnny!” Mildred stuttered confusedly,
“I—I just wanted to—celebrate your
return from the d—dead!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_158">[158]</div>
<p>“Nonsense!” exclaimed Johnny. “I always
come back. But it was mighty nice of you,
anyhow, and I won’t forget!”</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>He was ready for a good, long sleep. His task
of watching was given over for the night to
Samatan’s son, who was a member of the native
crew. So Johnny did not return to the
boat, but was shown to the guest room of the
Kennedy cottage where, under a mosquito-bar
canopy, with the tropical moon shining
through the bamboo lattice, he slept the sleep
of the just.</p>
<p>By the next afternoon both he and Mildred
were ready for further adventure. Together,
they tramped into the jungle.</p>
<p>“If we find more green arrows,” said
Mildred, fairly tingling with excitement,
“where do you think the trail will lead us?”</p>
<p>“Hard to tell,” said Johnny. “It might take
us right to the spot from which the green arrow
of light shines out in the night.”</p>
<p>“And then?” she whispered.</p>
<p>“No can tell!” laughed Johnny. “We’ll answer
that when the time comes.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_159">[159]</div>
<p>But would they? And what would the answer be?</p>
<p>After hours of searching they decided that,
whatever the answer might be, the finding of
it must be postponed for another day. Beyond
the spot where the trail forked, they could not
proceed.</p>
<p>“There’s something queer about these signs
of the green arrow,” said Johnny, dropping
onto a cushion of moss in the shade. “There
is something we don’t know about it all.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” replied the girl, “and we’re going to
find out what it is!”</p>
<p>“But not today,” said Johnny. “The shadows
already are growing long.”</p>
<p>By the time they reached the beach from
which the singing band had so mysteriously
disappeared, the abrupt, tropical darkness had
fallen. For a moment they stood looking at
the dark, mysterious sea. Suddenly Mildred
gripped Johnny’s arm and whispered:</p>
<p>“Look! The green arrow!”</p>
<p>True enough. Seeming but a stone’s throw
from shore, the green arrow appeared to rise
from the sea.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_160">[160]</div>
<p>“It <i>must</i> be on a submarine!” Mildred whispered.</p>
<p>“Wait! They’re signalling.” Johnny dragged
pencil and paper from his pocket and began
scribbling numbers. This continued for two
minutes. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared,
the green arrow vanished.</p>
<p>“Gone!” the girl exclaimed.</p>
<p>“Come on,” said Johnny. “I want to see what
they were saying.”</p>
<p>Leading the way to a dark hollow where
their light could not be seen, he asked her to
hold the electric torch while he deciphered the
message.</p>
<p>“‘<i>We will strike</i>,’” he read aloud, “‘<i>at the
earliest possible moment!</i>’</p>
<p>“That’s all.” He stood up. “Spies strike in
the dark—and without warning. I wonder
what we have ahead of us!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_161">[161]</div>
<h2 id="c14"><span class="small">CHAPTER XIV</span>
<br />AN IMPORTANT DISCOVERY</h2>
<p>That night as he tramped the deck on
his silent watch, Johnny found his mind
crowded with disturbing thoughts of the significant
message the green arrow had flashed
over the sea.</p>
<p>“<i>We will strike</i>—” his mind went over the
words again and again, “<i>at the earliest possible
moment!</i>” Where would they strike? And who
was to receive the blow? His shipmates on
the <i>Sea Nymph</i>? Old Kennedy and his daughter?
Or someone he never had seen?</p>
<p>“I may never know,” he told himself. “Spies
strike in the dark.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_162">[162]</div>
<p>Johnny had read that during the World War,
spies had swum to the propellers of outgoing
ships laden with men and supplies. Hours later,
with the ship far out at sea, a bomb had exploded,
blowing away the propeller and leaving
the ship helpless. He knew, too, that spies had
placed incendiary bombs in the holds of ships,
and dumped quantities of acid in the very bottom
of a vessel, to eat its way through the
steel.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he thought, “and even now—in times
of supposed peace—they are boring in!”</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>The <i>Sea Nymph</i> left the river and put out
to sea while Johnny slept. When he awoke in
mid-afternoon, they were anchored in their old
position.</p>
<p>“How would you like to make a solo journey
in the steel ball?” Dave asked when he came
on deck.</p>
<p>“Go—go down alone?” Johnny asked, feeling
a bit strange. “That—oh, that’s O.K., I guess.”</p>
<p>“I was down this morning,” said Dave, “and
my eyes are tired. There are some pictures I’d
like to have. Conditions below are all right,
and there’s an off-shore breeze. We’ve two
lines out to windward, which should hold her
steady.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_163">[163]</div>
<p>“What the professor would like,” he went on
in a businesslike tone, “is to have you go down,
slowly, along that submerged cliff, stopping
every ten feet to take a photo floodlight picture.
That will give us a continued story of
plant and animal life, down to perhaps two
thousand feet.”</p>
<p>“Al—all right,” Johnny agreed. “I can do
that.” But for the life of him he could not
still his heart’s wild beating. He seemed to be
hearing a voice say:</p>
<p>“<i>We will strike—at the earliest possible moment!</i>”</p>
<p>He forced his lips to repeat: “Two thousand
feet, you say?”</p>
<p>“About that. Better get ready at once. The
wind may pick up.”</p>
<p>“Yes, it may stri—pick up,” Johnny agreed
a little absently.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_164">[164]</div>
<p>Twenty minutes later, inside the steel ball
and busy taking pictures of the wall as he
stopped each ten feet, he had all but banished
thoughts of the green arrow from his mind.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>But someone else really was seeing green arrows—and
plenty of them. That was the granddaughter
of old Mr. Kennedy—the man who
for twenty years had defied encroachments of
foreign interests in this happy little republic.
For Mildred had gone on a hunting expedition
all her own. She was hunting spies. She had
started once more over the green arrow trail
and, strangely enough, almost instantly had
discovered the secret of its markings.</p>
<p>During their months together she and her
grandfather had spent hours on end, tramping
the jungle, and he had taught her to know all
the usual signs. The trail of some great snake
in the sand—the uprooted earth, where little
wild pigs had been—the marks of a monkey’s
claws on the green sprouts of a tree—all had
a meaning for her.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_165">[165]</div>
<p>Knowing these usual signs, she had looked
for unusual ones—and had found them. On
reaching the spot where they had lost the trail
on two other occasions, she noted that the next
to the last arrow was low down, while the <i>last</i>,
was some ten feet higher. So—to reach this last
marking place—someone had been obliged to
climb! In doing this, bits of bark had been
broken off, leaving fresh, light-brown spots on
the tree trunks.</p>
<p>“Now I shall look for broken bark—not arrows,”
she told herself.</p>
<p>She had not gone forward a hundred paces
on the right hand fork of the trail, when she
let out a cry of surprise and joy. Not only
had she discovered broken bark, but up, perhaps
thirty feet on a tree, she saw a green
arrow.</p>
<p>“One, two, three,” she whispered. “Perhaps
that’s the way it goes. One arrow down low,
one a little higher, and a third, well up on
the trunk!”</p>
<p>She discovered at once that this was just
the way the markings ran. So immediately she
took up the trail again.</p>
<p>The distance from the shore of the island
to the summit of the tallest hill, was considerable.
The trail, such as it was, made only
by natives and wild animals, wound round and
round—up and up.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_166">[166]</div>
<p>The girl followed this trail for more than an
hour. Then she sat down on a fallen mahogany
tree to think. She was far from all her
friends. Should she go farther? She, too, recalled
the last message of the green arrow of
light—about “striking”!</p>
<p>“Perhaps I can stop them,” she whispered
stoutly, as she rose to her feet. “At least I
can try!”</p>
<p>Though her knees trembled, she did not
falter, but marched straight on. For was she
not the granddaughter of old Kennedy—hero
of a hundred battles?</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_167">[167]</div>
<h2 id="c15"><span class="small">CHAPTER XV</span>
<br />ADRIFT IN THE DEPTHS</h2>
<p>All went well with Johnny on his undersea
photographing trip until he had
reached the fifteen-hundred-foot level. Then he
called in his loud-speaker to Doris, who was
directing the controls:</p>
<p>“Sorry, Doris. On that last, ten-foot shot,
I made a double exposure. Hike me up a bit,
will you, please?”</p>
<p>“O.K. Johnny,” was the answer. To the men
at the hoist she said: “Up ten feet.”</p>
<p>“Up ten feet,” the men repeated.</p>
<p>Johnny waited for the rise. His floodlight
was on. Some strange creatures with amazing
teeth, were passing, and he snapped his
camera.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_168">[168]</div>
<p>“Interesting place, down here,” he thought.
“Hate to stay down here all night, though.”
His leg felt cramped. He tried to shift to a
new position, but at last gave it up. “No sort
of place for an active person,” he sighed.
“Wonder why I don’t go up a bit—I’d like to
get this over!”</p>
<p>“Hey, up there!” he called into the phone.
“What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“Sorry, Johnny,” Doris drawled. “Something’s
wrong with the hoist. It won’t work.
But they’ll get it fixed pretty soon, I guess!”</p>
<p>Something wrong with the hoist! Johnny experienced
a cold chill. Suppose someone had
been tampering with that hoist—had done
something really serious? What then? You
couldn’t take hold of a fifteen-hundred-foot
steel cable with a two-ton ball at the end of
it, and haul it by hand like a fishline.
Johnny realized all too keenly that his life
depended on that hoist.</p>
<p>“It could have been tampered with,” he told
himself. This was all too true. While the boat
had been in the harbor it had not been any
too carefully guarded—and Johnny had been
off duty one whole night! “Might cost me
dearly—that night!” he thought.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_169">[169]</div>
<p>To ease his mind he began watching the passing
show—fire-glowing shrimps—flying snails,
and a host of other strange creatures. He
snapped his camera again and again.</p>
<p>“I say, up there,” he exclaimed impatiently,
“what’s keeping us?”</p>
<p>“Sorry, Johnny. It’s the hoist. We—”</p>
<p>Doris stopped suddenly. Johnny felt a
shock—as if his cable had been struck by something
hard and heavy. At the same instant the
ball began drifting away from the submerged
wall of rock.</p>
<p>“Hey, there!” he called, in genuine alarm,
“what’s up now?”</p>
<p>There came no answer. He called again, and
yet again. No answer. His heart began pounding
madly.</p>
<p>“This won’t do,” he told himself, savagely.
“Probably nothing—just nothing at all! It—”</p>
<p>Then came a second, jolting shock, and—ceasing
to move in a circle—the ball began
drifting quite rapidly away from the rock and
out to sea.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_170">[170]</div>
<p>Johnny knew at once what had happened.
One of the anchor cables holding the boat in
place had been struck and broken.</p>
<p>“By that submarine!” he burst out savagely.
Then as if it were right out there in the water
in front of him, he seemed to see the
green arrow of light, and to read:</p>
<p>“<i>We will strike</i>—at the earliest possible
moment!”</p>
<p>“They have struck!” he thought. “The
second cable has been broken by the added
strain—and we are drifting out to sea!”</p>
<p>He tried to think what this meant. The
hoist was broken, so he could not be pulled
up. Out to sea some three or four miles were
coral reefs and beneath these, no doubt, a
rocky wall. Moving at its present rate and
striking that wall, the steel ball might crack!</p>
<p>Only one cheery thought came to him at
this moment. If the boat’s small motor was
strong enough to counteract the force of wind
and current, he could be held in one position
until the hoist was repaired.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_171">[171]</div>
<p>Even as he thought this, Doris came back
on the air: “Awfully sorry, Johnny, but something
has severed an anchor cable—and then
the other one broke! The hoist won’t work.
We’d have the motor going, but that, too,
seems to have gone wrong. Keep your chin up,
Johnny. We’ll get you up out of there before
it’s—too late.” Her voice faltered at the end.</p>
<p>Johnny found it impossible to utter a single
word in reply.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>In the meantime, Mildred still was following
the signs of the green arrow trail.</p>
<p>As she advanced, the trail grew steeper and
rougher. She followed it between dark pines,
where the shadows were like night, along a narrow
ledge to an abrupt descent into a low
ravine.</p>
<p>More than once, as if contemplating retreat,
she turned and looked back. But always, she
went on.</p>
<p>At last, weary from climbing, she dropped
down on a flat rock in the shade and dabbed
at her damp cheeks with a white, red-bordered
handkerchief.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_172">[172]</div>
<p>As she rested she turned her head quite suddenly
to listen. All the usual sounds of the
tropical wilderness—the call of monkeys, the
shrill squawks of parrots, the piercing screams
of jungle birds—these all were familiar to her.
But did she hear some strange sound—perhaps
a human call? Listening intently for a moment
longer, she rose and journeyed on.</p>
<p>Some ten minutes later she paused once
more. She had come to a spot where the trail
led round a towering cliff. In an involuntary
gesture of dismay her hand unclasped and she
dropped her handkerchief. It fell unnoticed
among some large leaves—a bit of red and
white amid the eternal gray and green of the
jungle.</p>
<p>Summoning all her courage, Mildred proceeded
along the rocky trail. Like a soldier
she tramped straight on until, with a startled
cry, she stopped abruptly, on rounding a sharp
turn in the path.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_173">[173]</div>
<p>There, directly ahead, was the ancient castle
that might once have been a fortress or a
prison. Standing before its door and staring
intently at her, was a man with a rifle.
Turning to flee, in complete panic—she found
herself facing another man, similarly armed.</p>
<p>A man in front of her, and one in back—a
towering cliff above—a precipice below. She
was trapped.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>Darkness came to the Kennedy cottage, but
no Mildred returned to join its worried owner
at his evening meal.</p>
<p>He ate alone and in silence. In silence he
smoked his pipe on the veranda until midnight.
Then he went to the house of Pean, his head
native.</p>
<p>“Pean,” he said, “she has not returned. At
three o’clock, unless I come again, tell Camean
to make <i>wanga</i> with the drums.”</p>
<p>“Make <i>wanga</i> at three. Can do,” said Pean.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_174">[174]</div>
<h2 id="c16"><span class="small">CHAPTER XVI</span>
<br />VOICE OF DRUMS</h2>
<p>Johnny, meanwhile, was having a very
bad hour all by himself. Still drifting a
thousand feet beneath the surface of the sea,
he awaited his deliverance—a deliverance he
knew might never come.</p>
<p>Knowing little about the rate at which the
powerless boat might be drifting, he made a
guess; it should be about two miles per hour.
“That gives me less than two hours,” he told
himself, grimly.</p>
<p>After noting the time, he decided to take a
few more pictures—just in case.</p>
<p>Never before, he imagined, had such opportunity
for taking undersea shots been given
any living being. Moving at fairly steady
speed, he passed through countless schools of
deep-sea creatures, and never before had
Johnny looked upon such fantastic sights.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_175">[175]</div>
<p>“Like things in a nightmare,” he told himself.
“All heads—practically no bodies at all—some
long and slim as a leadpencil, with noses half
the length of their bodies. If ever I get out
of this I probably shall be famous. But—”</p>
<p>What was this? His eyes stared at the compass.
It appeared to have gone wrong, or else—</p>
<p>“Hey!” he called into the loud speaker,
“what’s up? Are we going north by east—”</p>
<p>“North by east is right. Oh, Johnny!”
Doris apologized, “I didn’t let you know, but
they have the sails up, and we’re traveling in
a circle. We think that will keep you off the
rocks. The chart is not very clear, but we can
cruise around for hours if—if it is necessary.”</p>
<p>“Hours!” Johnny groaned.</p>
<p>“Well, anyway—” Doris stopped, abruptly.
Then:</p>
<p>“Johnny! You’re saved! The mate just told
me the hoist will be working again any minute
now!”</p>
<p>“Hooray!” Johnny shouted. “Hooray! We live
again! Boy-oh-boy!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_176">[176]</div>
<p>“Yes, Johnny,”—the girl’s voice went husky,
“it will be good to see you!”</p>
<p>Ten minutes later, Johnny was going up.
Slowly, surely, the dense darkness passed. The
blue black of early dawn was changing places
with glorious hues, and then came the light
of a rapidly passing day.</p>
<p>As he tumbled from the steel ball Johnny
placed a box of plates carefully on the deck.</p>
<p>“There you are!” he exclaimed. “Pictures I’ll
really live to see!”</p>
<p>The pictures were superb—all the professor
could have dreamed of, and more. “These,
alone, will add greatly to the world’s riches,”
he said, placing a trembling hand on Johnny’s
shoulder.</p>
<p>“And when you show them,” Johnny
grinned, “tell your audience they were taken
by a ship’s watch, will you?”</p>
<p>“I take it,” said the professor with a laugh,
“that you think you’d like to keep your feet
on the ground, for a while!”</p>
<p>“Absolutely,” Johnny agreed. “And in more
ways than one!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_177">[177]</div>
<p>Johnny went back to his old task of walking
the deck that night. There would be no
more tampering with hoists and motors if he
knew anything about it—and he surely would
know if it happened in the night.</p>
<p>For some unknown reason, this night was
not like others that had passed. There seemed
to be a spirit of unrest in the air.</p>
<p>Doris, too, felt it. Enveloped in a midnight-blue
gown, she wandered out on deck.</p>
<p>“It’s ridiculous,” she exclaimed. “A grand
night to sleep, but my eyes just will not stay
closed!”</p>
<p>“There are ghosts in the air,” said Johnny.
“I have felt them and almost heard their
wings—or do ghosts have wings? There goes
one now!”</p>
<p>Doris jumped as some swift, darting thing
shot past her head.</p>
<p>“Oh, no!” Johnny laughed. “Only a bat.
You’d think—”</p>
<p>He stopped suddenly to stare at the distant
hills. The next instant, with binoculars held
to his eyes with one hand and a pencil in the
other, he was recording a message.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_178">[178]</div>
<p>“The green arrow speaks again,” he murmured
softly. “Oh—Oh—now it’s gone! Snapped right
off as if a fuse had blown.</p>
<p>“Oh, well—perhaps it will flash again, later.”
He stuffed his notebook into his pocket.</p>
<p>“We’ll be leaving here soon,” Doris said
quietly. “In two or three days, I think.
Grandfather received a wireless today. And
how I’m going to hate it.” She sighed. “This,”
she spread her arms wide, “this has been
grand! Moonlight on gorgeous waters! Strange
tropical shores. Adventure!”</p>
<p>“And bats!” said Johnny, as one shot past
his ear.</p>
<p>“But even they are different,” she insisted,
smiling.</p>
<p>“Yes, I know,” Johnny agreed. “To go to
strange places, to see new things, to find excitement,
thrills, mystery and adventure—that’s
life!”</p>
<p>“Is it for most people?” she whispered.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_179">[179]</div>
<p>“Perhaps not,” he replied thoughtfully.
“Most people like to be safe and comfortable,
to go to the same places, to see the same
people, do the same things. That’s their privilege,
of course.”</p>
<p>“That’s right, Johnny. And now—goodnight.”</p>
<p>“Goodnight,” he replied, softly.</p>
<p>Halfway between midnight and morning,
when even the bats were less active, and the
whole tropical world seemed asleep, Johnny
was amazed to hear the sudden roll of a native
drum, from the island. The very sound
of it at that eerie hour, set his blood racing
and his skin prickling.</p>
<p>“Drums!” he ejaculated. “What can that
mean?”</p>
<p>For a time the weird beats were a
steady roll. Then they began breaking up;
two beats, a pause—one beat—pause, three
beats—pause....</p>
<p>“Like a message,” he whispered. Then with
a start, he recalled the message of the green
arrow—undeciphered in his pocket!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_180">[180]</div>
<p>Dragging it out, he began decoding it, growing
more and more wildly excited every
minute.</p>
<p>“H—E—” he worked it out “L—P! <i>HELP!</i>”</p>
<p>“Someone is in trouble,” he whispered. “But
there are only three letters left. Rapidly he
studied these out.</p>
<p>“<i>Help Mil</i>—”</p>
<p>A cold sweat broke out on his brow. He recalled
Mildred’s determination to follow that
green arrow trail. Had she followed it too far?
Had the spies captured her? Was she a prisoner?
And had she attempted to get off a message
on the green arrow, only to be interrupted?
Or perhaps even—</p>
<p>“I might be wrong,” he told himself. But he
dared not hope.</p>
<p>Again there were the drums. This time a
drum close at hand, on shore, thundered out.
Then, from far away in the jungle came an
answer, another, and yet another. It was
ghostly, romantic, thrilling. Johnny’s hair
fairly stood on end. But what did it mean?</p>
<p>He caught the sound of soft footfalls.
Instantly he was on his feet, all attention.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_181">[181]</div>
<p>“Oh!” he exclaimed softly. “It is you,
Samatan.”</p>
<p>“Yes. The drums! They speak!” murmured
Samatan. “Something—it is very bad.” His
voice was low-pitched, tense.</p>
<p>“What do they say?” Johnny asked in a
whisper.</p>
<p>“That something very wrong. This what
drums say!” The old man’s voice was vibrant
with emotion.</p>
<p>“They say Kennedy has had <i>bad</i> done him!
Natives must come. All who love Kennedy
must come. And all natives love Kennedy! All
night they must come. In morning they
march—perhaps they fight! Much fight for
Kennedy! Maybe much die!” His voice
trailed off.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Johnny choked. “Something terrible
has happened. We must go, Samatan!”</p>
<p>“Just when it little light, in my dugout, we
go, Johnny,” said Samatan, quietly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_182">[182]</div>
<p>Settling back in a steamer chair the old man
closed his eyes and appeared to sleep. While
from the shore came again and again the
vibrant rumble of the drums—tum—tum—tum—tum—on
and on into the night that was
marching toward the dawn of another day.</p>
<p>Tense with forebodings of what might be
in store, Johnny waited—impatient and grimly
expectant.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_183">[183]</div>
<h2 id="c17"><span class="small">CHAPTER XVII</span>
<br />MARCHING ON THE CASTLE</h2>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“Make <i>wanga</i>,” he said to Johnny. “Always
when trouble, my people make <i>wanga</i>—make
prayer to Voodoo gods. Gods help good natives
win victories.”</p>
<p>“Great!” exclaimed Johnny. “Then we shall
win!”</p>
<p>“Yes. Win,” the old man said, softly.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_184">[184]</div>
<p>Thinking deeply, Samatan declared they
should go very soon—at least a full hour before dawn.</p>
<p>“Shall Dave go, too?” Johnny asked.</p>
<p>“Plenty men on shore,” the old man waved
an arm. “We go—tell Kennedy. That all. Dave?
Better Dave stay.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“The ship may be needed before this thing
is over,” he said.</p>
<p>“Yes, it may,” Johnny agreed.</p>
<p>So, guided by native fires on the beach,
Johnny and Samatan headed for shore.</p>
<p>Johnny was steeped in gloom as he pictured
the golden-haired little beach-comber, the
prisoner of unscrupulous spies.</p>
<p>“Nothing could be worse,” he groaned. “I
should have warned her never to go, alone!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_185">[185]</div>
<p>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.</p>
<p>They were squatting around the fires, roasting
small fish or strips of peccary meat and
gulping cups of bitter, black coffee.</p>
<p>“They will go for a whole day on this,”
Kennedy told him, “and still be with us when
the day is done.”</p>
<p>When Johnny told of the green arrow’s message
and the trail Mildred had sworn to follow,
the old man’s brow wrinkled.</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_186">[186]</div>
<p>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!</p>
<p>There were men among that loyal throng
who knew every trail leading to the old castle.</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>“And how they respond to it!” Johnny
enthused.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_187">[187]</div>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>“Nothing can happen to you,” Johnny declared,
stoutly. “You could handle four of
those cowards, single-handed.”</p>
<p>“Promise me,” the old man insisted.</p>
<p>“I promise.” Johnny put out a hand that
was at once caught in a grip of steel.</p>
<p>And so they marched away into the golden,
tropical dawn.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>Those on the <i>Sea Nymph</i> 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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_188">[188]</div>
<p>“Dave,” said the professor at last, breaking
the silence, “since that fine old man Kennedy
is in a good way to lose his granddaughter—”</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>“No doubt,” said the professor. “But spies,
my dear!”</p>
<p>“Spies are cowards,” Doris exclaimed. “Just
the same—I’d like doing something for those
Kennedys!”</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes!” Doris sprang up. “Let’s do that!
Anything to help!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_189">[189]</div>
<p>“I know the spot, within a mile,” said Dave.
“Kennedy showed me on the map. It’s not
over three miles from here.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“And then?” asked Dave.</p>
<p>“One problem at a time,” smiled the professor,
who during his long life had solved
many a problem.</p>
<p>Fifteen minutes more and they were away.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“And that?”</p>
<p>“Whether that girl, who seems the very
spirit of the island, ever will sail that schooner
again.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_190">[190]</div>
<p>“Never doubt it,” said Doris. But in spite
of her high hopes, she herself was in grave
doubt.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“We’re seeking bigger game, today,” the boy
thought, grimly.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_191">[191]</div>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“O.K.” Johnny murmured, gripping his light
hunting rifle.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_192">[192]</div>
<h2 id="c18"><span class="small">CHAPTER XVIII</span>
<br />THE BATTLE</h2>
<p>Meanwhile, Dave and Doris were
warming to the search for the small
trading boat that had meant so much to
Kennedy and Mildred.</p>
<p>Having found the approximate location
where the little supply schooner sank, Dave
climbed into the steel ball and was lowered
into the deep. For an hour after that, with
the steel ball always close to the bottom, they
sailed about in ever widening circles. From
time to time Doris called on the radio:</p>
<p>“See anything?”</p>
<p>“Yes, a whole flotilla of jellyfish,” would
come Dave’s laughing answer. Or—“there’s an
ancient wreck off to the right—goes back to
pirate days, I’m sure. But I don’t catch the
faintest gleam of a white schooner.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_193">[193]</div>
<p>When at last he returned to the surface and
was released from his spherical prison, he complained
of eye-strain.</p>
<p>“Let me go down with you,” Doris pleaded.
“I’ll be eyes for you. Together we can’t fail to
find the schooner. We just must get it
located!”</p>
<p>“What do you say, professor?” Dave turned
to his superior.</p>
<p>“What’s the bottom like?”</p>
<p>“All sand.”</p>
<p>“No rocks?”</p>
<p>“Not a one.”</p>
<p>“O.K., my girl—in you go.” The professor
waved a hand, and in they went.</p>
<p>To the imaginative Doris, this fairyland of
waving seaweed, darting fish, and drifting
jellyfish was most entertaining, but she never
forgot their real mission. “Dave!” she exclaimed
more than once. “I see something!”
A moment of excitement, and then—“No—it’s
nothing but a bit of coral, after all.”</p>
<p>Then, of a sudden, a whisper reached her
ear:</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_194">[194]</div>
<p>“One eighty—eighty-two and a half—eighty
four—”</p>
<p>“Dave! He’s back! The whisperer is back!”
Doris spoke before she thought.</p>
<p>“Why! Hello there, mermaid!” came in
words startlingly distinct.</p>
<p>Doris and Dave remained silent. Who could
this be? Where was he? On land, or in the sea?
Or on it?</p>
<p>For a time they heard that whispering of
numbers. Then it faded, as abruptly as it had
come.</p>
<p>As they drifted, they quietly discussed the
strange whispering, but came to no logical
conclusions. Neither did they sight any white
schooner, resting on the bottom.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>For a long time, there on the side of the
hill beneath the tropical sun, Kennedy’s fighting
band watched and waited.</p>
<p>“The signal will come,” Johnny thought with
a thrill. “The signal to move! And then—</p>
<p>“There! There it is now!” he exclaimed in a
hoarse whisper.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_195">[195]</div>
<p>There had come the distant scream of a wild
parrot. One more scream.</p>
<p>“Now!” said Kennedy. “Let’s go!”</p>
<p>“We go,” old Samatan said, simply.</p>
<p>Johnny would have taken the lead, but the
old man pushed him back. Cautiously they
moved straight ahead.</p>
<p>Johnny sighed in relief as they reached the
end of a narrow pass. That, he thought, would
have been a bad place to be caught. His sense
of relief was short-lived, however, for out from
the wide door of the ancient castle, burst a
man with a rifle. Instantly Johnny recognized
him as the man whom he had saved from the
grip of the octopus.</p>
<p>“Come on!” he exclaimed, as the man leveled
his rifle. A shot cracked out, and a bullet
burned Johnny’s cheek. Next instant the man
dodged and the rifle clattered from his nerveless
hands. There had been a flash of steel,
as Samatan had thrown his machete. Its point
was buried in the door, just back of the spot
where the man’s head had been.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_196">[196]</div>
<p>Dropping his rifle, Johnny executed a flying
tackle, bringing the man to the ground, with
a thud. Instantly two powerful natives pinned
him to the earth.</p>
<p>“Come on!” Kennedy shouted, as the door
stood open a crack. “We’re going in!” His
powerful shoulder forced the door so suddenly
that a man on the other side of it was instantly
floored. A second man—huge, fat, beast-like—lurched
at Kennedy with a knife. He was felled
with one blow of the old man’s bare fist.</p>
<p>“Now!” Kennedy roared, towering over the
prostrate pair. “Tell me where my granddaughter
is or I’ll tear you limb from limb!”</p>
<p>“Girl?” the fat man stammered in broken
English. “Gone—gone.”</p>
<p>“Where to?” Kennedy touched the man none
too gently with his foot. But the halting reply
could not be understood.</p>
<p>“Please, sir,” came in a youthful voice from
the corner, “if I may, I will tell you.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_197">[197]</div>
<p>“But first I must tell you,” said the youth
who, until now, had not been noticed, “that
I am not one of these!” He nodded at the men
on the floor. “I was coming to America to join
my father, and they compelled me to accompany
them here.”</p>
<p>“Is that true?” Kennedy demanded of the
stout man on the floor. The man nodded.</p>
<p>“All right. Tell us.” Kennedy’s voice softened
a little as he spoke to the youth.
“Where is my granddaughter?”</p>
<p>“They took her to the submarine,” said the
boy.</p>
<p>“The submarine?” Kennedy stared.</p>
<p>“Yes. There is a submarine,” said the boy.
“They are making a survey of the sea-bottom
around these islands! Don’t you see,” the boy
seemed anxious to please, “in time of war, they
shall place depth bombs and steel nets—and
establish submarine bases!”</p>
<p>“I see,” Kennedy replied in a low tone that
was not good to hear. “Very nice, I should
say. We seem to have stumbled into the
situation at about the right time!</p>
<p>“But my granddaughter.” His voice rose.
“She is on this submarine?”</p>
<p>“Yes sir.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_198">[198]</div>
<p>“Then,” roared Kennedy, “we shall find the
submarine! And if we do not—or if my granddaughter
has been harmed—!” He laid his
machete, sheath and all, across the stout man’s
throat. And the stout man turned a sickish,
yellow-green. And not without reason.</p>
<p>“Get up!” commanded Kennedy. The two
men stood up. “I’ll guard them,” he said to
Johnny. “You and the natives search this place.
Gather up every scrap of paper to be found.
There should be ample evidence of this espionage.
And—there is not a moment to be lost!”</p>
<p>“Not a second,” said Johnny.</p>
<p>A few hours later, with three other prisoners
taken by the second band of natives attempting
to flee from the rear of the castle, they
were back at the Kennedy cottage. At once
Johnny and Samatan prepared to leave for the
<i>Sea Nymph</i>.</p>
<p>“We’ll do all in our power to find that
submarine,” Johnny assured Kennedy, as he
and Samatan pushed off....</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_199">[199]</div>
<p>But Johnny could not have known, of course
that the submarine had been found....</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>For a long time Doris had watched the sea
bottom as the steel ball moved about in a circle
that ever grew wider. So absorbed had she
become that her ear-phones were forgotten.
When suddenly a voice broke in on her
thoughts, she jumped involuntarily.</p>
<p>“Hey, there! I say, there! Are you there?”
came in a hoarse, anxious voice. “Listen! It’s
important! Listen! Are you there?”</p>
<p>Doris adjusted her microphone, then answered,
as her heart missed a beat. “Yes, we
are here. Why?”</p>
<p>“Listen!” came in gutteral tones. “We are on
the bottom, and we can’t get up!”</p>
<p>“Try the Australian crawl,” Doris laughed
into her speaker. These people were good at
kidding, whoever they were.</p>
<p>“Listen!” came in a man’s voice, hoarse and
insistent—even pleading. “We are in a small
submarine. We are on bottom and our pumps
have failed!”</p>
<p>“Submarine!” Doris whispered, as she and
Dave gaped at each other.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_200">[200]</div>
<p>“We are about two hundred feet down,” the
voice went on, desperately. “Something’s gone
wrong with our pumps, and we can’t blow out
the water in our compartments. You gotta
help us. We have a friend of yours here and
she’ll tell you I’m speaking the truth!”</p>
<p>Doris and Dave were startled beyond description
when they heard Mildred Kennedy’s
voice coming over the air.</p>
<p>“Listen, Doris,” the girl’s voice was tense
with emotion. “I’m down here in this submarine.
I blundered onto that ancient castle
up on the ridge, and there were spies there.
They wouldn’t let me go because they—they
said I’d tell what I saw. And that—that’s
true. I would!</p>
<p>“But these boys on the submarine—they—”
her voice broke a little, “they’re not really
spies! They’re just boys in the navy of their
country, doing what they’re ordered to do.
They’ve been decent to me, and they’d have
put me back on land if they’d dared. So—so
you can’t let them die like this. You just can’t,
Doris! Besides, I—” she choked, and could not
finish.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_201">[201]</div>
<p>“We won’t let them die and most of all—we
won’t let <i>you</i> die!” declared Dave, who had
been absorbing every word. “Just you keep
cool and stand by. We—we’ll have our whole
navy here in no time. Just you see!”</p>
<p>“Th—thanks, Dave ... Mil—Mildred, signing
off,” came in a wee small voice.</p>
<p>“Gee, she’s a game kid,” whispered Dave to
Doris. Then into his microphone:</p>
<p>“Put that man on again,” he said.</p>
<p>“Here, here I am,” came the hoarse voice
from the submarine.</p>
<p>“Here’s what we’ll do,” Dave said, shortly.</p>
<p>“We have a fairly powerful wireless on our
ship. We’ll get in touch with the United States
Naval Station at Port au Prince at once, and
report the situation. They will send assistance—even
though you’re over here to help
your spies! Now—give me your location—in
code.”</p>
<p>“O.K.” the foreigner answered, humbly,
“Here it is. 2 - 4 - 7, 9 - 3 - 6, 1 - 6 - 3 - 9, 3 -
7 - 9.—That is all. Will you please repeat?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_202">[202]</div>
<p>Dave read the numbers he had written, and
the sub commander checked them again.</p>
<p>“Don’t be nervous or frightened about the
girl, here,” he said. “We have oxygen enough
for thirty-six hours, at least.”</p>
<p>“I hate to think what would happen to
you if any harm comes to her,” Dave answered,
grimly. “We’re signing off and going
up.”</p>
<p>To get the Port au Prince naval station was
only a matter of moments, after the steel ball
was back on board.</p>
<p>“There’s a submarine and a coastguard
cutter at Santiago de Cuba,” was the answer.
“We will get in touch with them at once, and
you can be sure of fast action!”</p>
<p>After a short wait came the encouraging
news: “Submarine and cutter proceeding to
the rescue under forced draft!”</p>
<p>Fifteen minutes later the <i>Sea Nymph</i> was in
motion. Dave, having obtained the grounded
submarine’s location, would sail to the spot
and stand by to aid, if possible.</p>
<p>“Perhaps we’ll go down in the steel ball and
reach them before that sub arrives,” he said.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_203">[203]</div>
<p>“But Dave!” Doris exclaimed. “What can
one submarine do for another on the bottom?
Surely they can’t raise it!”</p>
<p>“No—o, they couldn’t. Nor could we. But
then,” Dave sighed, “there must be some way.
We’ll have to leave that to the navy, I guess.”</p>
<p>Two hours later the steel ball rested on the
sandy bottom some two hundred feet down,
and within twenty feet of the submarine’s
dark bulk. As Dave and Doris stared out of
their window, they saw a face in a port of the
submarine. It was Mildred, and she was waving
at them.</p>
<p>“Only twenty feet,” Doris murmured, “and
yet for the moment there’s nothing we can do!
How strange—and how—how terrible!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_204">[204]</div>
<h2 id="c19"><span class="small">CHAPTER XIX</span>
<br />ON THE BOTTOM</h2>
<p>Night was falling on the waters of the
blue Caribbean when Johnny and Samatan
finally reached the <i>Sea Nymph</i>, and were
told of the sub’s predicament. For a full
hour after darkness fell, Doris and Johnny sat
on the after deck. But they spoke hardly a
word. They were thinking of a brave, American
girl, two hundred feet below surface, in a
foreign submarine.</p>
<p>“Johnny!” Doris gripped the boy’s arm suddenly.
“Is that a light—or is it a star?” She
pointed out to sea.</p>
<p>“A light! No, it’s a star. No! No! It <i>is</i> a
light! See! It blinks!”</p>
<p>“Dave!” Doris called. “The navy is coming!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_205">[205]</div>
<p>And so it was. As they stood there waiting,
the light grew brighter and brighter. Then a
long, sleek form, dark as the night, slid alongside
the <i>Sea Nymph</i>.</p>
<p>“Ahoy there!” a voice called.</p>
<p>“Ahoy!” Dave echoed. “We’ll send our small
boat for you at once”</p>
<p>Ten minutes later, the young commander of
the American submarine was on board.</p>
<p>“What’s the situation?” he demanded,
briskly.</p>
<p>“They’re down here, about two hundred
feet,” said Dave. “Their pumps won’t work
and they can’t get up!”</p>
<p>“That’s it, eh? It sounds bad.” The young
officer’s voice was somber. “I suppose you
assumed we had a diver on board, and—until
three days ago—we did have. But now he’s in
the hospital with a raging fever!”</p>
<p>“Might I inquire,” the professor asked, slowly,
“what a diver would do?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_206">[206]</div>
<p>“Certainly,” said the officer. “We have three
hundred feet of hose. Somewhere on the side
of their sub, if it’s anything like ours, is a
short piece of pipe with a thread on it, to
which our hose could be attached. After that—when
they have opened an inner valve—we
can pump in enough air to float them. But
without a diver—”</p>
<p>“I,” said the professor, “am a diver. Have
you the equipment?”</p>
<p>“You?” The young officer looked at the aged
professor admiringly, but without making a
reply. All eyes were focused on the dignified
old man.</p>
<p>It was Dave who best understood the
situation.</p>
<p>He knew the professor had made many a trip
to the bottom of the sea in a diving outfit,
but that had been years before. Now he was
a frail, old man. “The pressure at two hundred
feet is terrific,” the boy thought. “And his
doctor has warned him—even about going
down in the ball! He must not go.”</p>
<p>Still Dave remained silent. He was thinking
hard—thinking how even in life’s twilight this
splendid old man displayed a glorious courage.</p>
<p>“I must go down.” It was the professor’s
voice. “It is my duty. Those are young people
with life before them. They must not be
allowed to perish.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_207">[207]</div>
<p>Still the young officer did not speak.</p>
<p>“All right, Professor,” Dave said huskily.
“But first—give me an hour! I will try something.
If I fail—then your turn comes!”</p>
<p>Slowly the professor grasped Dave’s hand.</p>
<p>In a few precise words, Dave outlined his
plans. Then he leaped toward the steel ball.
With all possible speed he was bolted in, lifted
over the rail, and lowered slowly into the
ominous, black waters.</p>
<p>Never before had he been down at night.
The spectacle that met his eyes as he sank,
was surprising almost beyond belief. The whole
sub-sea world seemed on fire. It was like being
out in a moonless night, surrounded by billions
of fireflies.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_208">[208]</div>
<p>As his eyes became accustomed to the
bizarre scene he was able to distinguish individual
specimens from among the myriads of
luminous creatures that crowded the waters.
Here, like excursion boats all aglow, a score of
jellyfish floated past. There, a throng of
shrimp stood out in dark outline against the
background light, suddenly darting frantically
away as some great fish with bright spots
along his sides gave chase. Casting off balls
of illumination, the shrimp were lost to sight
in a flare of light.</p>
<p>But there was little time for such thoughts,
as this underseas mission concerned the lives
of nine young people. A sudden storm would
spell their doom....</p>
<p>Dave had asked for an hour, and he must
save the professor from taking so great a risk,
if possible. No less experienced person—not
even Dave—could safely descend to such depth
in a diving suit....</p>
<p>Suddenly he saw the light from the sub’s
porthole, just before him.</p>
<p>“Steady!” he said into the mike. “Doris—tell
them to stop lowering, and swing me to the
right about twelve feet.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_209">[209]</div>
<p>Instantly they obeyed his orders and for a
time, he studied the sub. Then he saw what
he had sought—the threaded end of pipe for
letting in the air. Once again he had his position
changed. Now he was close to the bit of
threaded pipe. But the dangling air hose from
the sub on the surface, still was several feet
away. More orders.... More moments.... and
every second counted.... At last the steel ball
rested on bottom. The sub was six feet
distant, and now the hose dangled directly before
his window.</p>
<p>What Dave hoped to do was to seize the
screwcap at the end of the hose with the
pincherlike affairs attached to the outside of
the steel ball. Then, by twisting his pinchers
round and round, he would try to attach the
hose to the sunken submarine.</p>
<p>Could he do it? His heart sank as the force
of a wave far above, drew the steel ball off
the bottom for a moment.</p>
<p>“I—I’ve got to do it! I’ve <i>got</i> to,” he
muttered.</p>
<p>Once again his hand was on the lever. It rose,
slowly, as the hose before him swayed.</p>
<p>“Back a foot,” he called to Doris.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_210">[210]</div>
<p>Back he slid. “Now,” he breathed. There was
the hose and screwcap, and there were his
pinchers. Swiftly, skillfully, he manipulated
the lever, and, by a fortunate providence,
caught the cap just as he should.</p>
<p>“Now,” he breathed.</p>
<p>But again there came that sickening lift and
swing—and one crash of his window against the
sub, would spell his doom.</p>
<p>Now he was on bottom again. A move—a
second move—then a third—and he was back
in position. Now—</p>
<p>“No,” he breathed, desperately, “not this
time.”</p>
<p>For again came that sickening lift.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>In the meantime a coastguard cutter had
anchored close to the <i>Sea Nymph</i> and an officer
came aboard.</p>
<p>“I am Major Braden, of the Marines,” he
said, bowing to Doris, Johnny and the professor.
“I’m on extraordinary duty just now—watching
these waters. I used to be in command
when we occupied these islands for
military purposes, and I understand you’ve located
a foreign submarine.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_211">[211]</div>
<p>“And six spies, now held captive on land,”
Johnny added. “We took enough maps and
reports from their hangout, to start a secret
service all our own!”</p>
<p>“Good! Great! A real service to your country,
young man!”</p>
<p>“But the sub’s still on bottom,” Johnny added,
“and we’re trying to raise her now. They—they’ve
got one of our good friends on board!”</p>
<p>“I’m sure you’ll succeed,” exclaimed the
Major. “And when that sub breaks water—we’ll
have three, six-inch guns trained on her.
She’ll not escape,” he concluded a little grimly.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * * * *</span></p><p>For a full quarter-hour, Dave struggled in
vain to bring the threaded pipe on the sub,
and the screw-cap at the end of the hose, into
exact position. At one time he actually turned
the cap, and felt it catch. But it would not
turn further.</p>
<p>“Started wrong,” he murmured. “Threads
are crossed. Must take it off at once.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_212">[212]</div>
<p>Ten seconds of struggle and he was back
where he had started. His heart sank. Should
he give up? He closed his eyes to think—and
saw the professor’s frail, kindly face before
him.</p>
<p>“No!” he groaned. “I won’t give up!”</p>
<p>Slowly, carefully, he maneuvered himself
into position. The lever rose slowly, and glided
forward. He gave it a turn. It stuck. Deftly
he twirled his lever; ’round and ’round it spun.</p>
<p>“Now!” he breathed. He gave the lever an
experimental tug. <i>The cap held firm.</i></p>
<p>“Try it!” he fairly shouted into his mike.</p>
<p>Ten seconds later, the hose hanging loosely
before his window, twisted and writhed like
a snake. It was filling with air. He watched
the spot where it joined the pipe on the sub.
Should bubbles appear, all his work was lost.
Ten seconds, he watched. No bubbles. Twenty—thirty—forty
seconds. Still no bubbles.</p>
<p>“Hooray!” he shouted hoarsely. “Hooray!
We win!”</p>
<p>And from the sunken sub came an answer:</p>
<p>“It is good! We are getting air!”</p>
<p>After having his steel ball moved to a safe
distance, Dave settled down to watch. Had
they won? Would the sub really rise?</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_213">[213]</div>
<p>Fifteen long, tense, minutes passed. Then,
like a giant fish which had been asleep on the
bottom, the dark bulk before him began to
stir.</p>
<p>“Thank God!” Dave exclaimed, fervently.</p>
<p>A moment more and the sub rose slowly toward
the surface. And, like a cattleboy driving
the cows home at eventide, Dave followed in
his steel ball.</p>
<p>True to the Major’s promise, powerful lights
and capable-looking guns were trained on the
sub when, with a rush, she broke surface. But
there was no need for that. The members of
the youthful crew were too glad to escape
death on the bottom of the sea, to offer any
resistance to capture.</p>
<p>The first person to appear above the sub’s
deck was Mildred. Awaiting her in the Tub
was Johnny, and how he greeted her was a
sight to behold. Some time later they sat
on the porch of the Kennedy home—Dave,
Doris, Johnny and Mildred.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_214">[214]</div>
<p>“Well, Johnny,” said Dave, “our work beneath
the very deep sea is done. We’ll collect
a few specimens—turtles, crawfish, and bright,
tropical fish close to the surface—then hoist
anchor for New York!”</p>
<p>“New York? Where is that?” Johnny asked
dreamily.</p>
<p>“It’s an ancient Dutch colony,” Dave chuckled.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes! I remember!” said Johnny. “I
think I’ll not go there, if you folks don’t
mind.” He hesitated.</p>
<p>“Mildred tells me she located their motorboat
while she was in the submarine. Major
Braden thinks we’ve done a brave deed or two
and put him in a good way to clear up this
spy business—so he’s going to repay us by
helping bring the schooner to the surface. But
of course,” he drawled, “there will be a lot of
work to be done after that.”</p>
<p>“And you’d like to stay and help” said Dave.
“I don’t blame you. I’d like to stay myself.
Well, old son, all I can say is—go ahead and
God bless you!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_215">[215]</div>
<p>“I’ll be back in the States in two or three
months, I guess,” said Johnny. “I—I’m sort of
thinking of going to college. College is wonderful
for just anybody!</p>
<p>“I hope you come back to these waters with
the steel ball,” observed Johnny, after a time.
“I’d like to have one good, long, look for old
Samatan’s treasure chest.”</p>
<p>“Oh! That?” said Dave, with a short laugh.
“Probably just a myth. But if we ever get
back—you shall have a try at it, I promise
you!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<h2><span class="small">Transcriber’s Note</span></h2>
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