The Voodoo Gold Trail. Walden Walter
Grant Norris."
"Oh, go 'long! you red-headed wag, you," he shot back at me.
"'Fess up now," I said. "You're just itching for excitement. But never fear, Wayne will send for you before the fighting begins – he knows you. In the meantime, you know Wayne and Robert well enough; there won't anyone get much the best of them."
When we had rowed back to the Pearl, things were got ready for a move to a new anchorage – nearer to the place where we had landed Wayne and Robert. Captain Marat said we must avoid having the lights of the town between us and any signal from Wayne.
Grant Norris was watching the hills back inland while the sun was still holding its fire on the tops of the mountains.
"Say," I asked him, "you don't expect to see fire signals in broad daylight, do you?"
"Daylight!" he sniffed – "It'll be night before you can turn round twice."
And sure enough, while we were talking the sun was off the peaks, and the lower hills were black enough to show a fire.
I hadn't any more than got ready the big lantern with the strong reflector, than Wayne's signal began to flash, eight or ten miles back in the hills. I answered. And then came the message: "Good so far."
"I guess they find out sometheeng," said Captain Marat.
"It's good to know they're already making progress," observed Julian.
"Next," said Norris, "they'll be signalling – 'Come on, the trail is hot.'" And he stayed on deck till long after midnight.
The next day dragged for all of us, waiting for night. Nothing was right. Even Rufe's noon meal was no success.
"Say, you-all is jest de cantankerest bunch!" said Rufe. "Dem 'are biscuits is jest de kin' you-all been a braggin' on; an' dat fish, an' de puddin' – W'at's wrong wid dem, ah likes to know?"
But no one had a word on that.
And when the supper went the same way, Rufe put his foot down, said he wouldn't cook another meal till we got the voodoo out of our systems.
"Dat w'at it is, hit's de voodoo w'at's got into you-all's stummicks," he declared. "Dey ain't no use o' my cookin' no more till you is busted wid it."
That hot lazy sun finally dipped down west, and from then on, every candle or firefly on shore had us on the jump. Grant Norris was the worst of the bunch. At ten o'clock he broke loose.
"Those young skunks!" he said. "Won't I give them a piece of my mind! They might give us a word. No sense in keeping mum like this."
At midnight all but Norris gave it up and turned in. He said he wouldn't trust the watch, and anyway there wasn't any sleep in him.
I hadn't any more than got two winks of my first beauty sleep, than something had me by the scruff, and bounced me out of my bunk onto the floor. It was worse than the nightmare.
I was kneading the cobwebs of fairyland out of my eyes, and I heard Norris saying:
"Pile up on deck you sleepy-head! Wayne's talking to you."
I "piled up" on deck; and there, way back in the hills, ever so far away, I saw the flashing of a beacon light. A long flash, a short one, another long, a short. That's C. Three long ones – O. And so on. "Come ask for Brill. Come ask for Brill," the message went.
Norris brought the lamp with the strong reflector, and I flashed back an answer. But they evidently didn't see our smaller light, for they continued with their – "Come, ask for Brill. Come ask for Brill."
Now I can't explain just how, but I knew from the way the flashes were given that it wasn't Wayne, but Robert, who was doing the signalling. Then they were not together up there, for Wayne always did that job.
I told Norris the message, and he began to poke everybody else up. He went banging at Rufe, too, and there was considerable excitement all round.
"Oh, yes, sah, yes, sah, Mistah Norris," said Rufe "dat coffee 'll be a'bilin' in jes' a minute. Glory be to goodness! dis heah voodoo carryin's on is wus dan gittin' religion at a shoutin' Methodis' camp meetin'."
I watched the flashes up in the hills till finally they quit; but there was never a word but just those four: "Come, ask for Brill."
Our packs were already made up; it remained only for Rufe to put the finishing touches to the grub we were going to take. Captain Marat and Grant Norris had their high powered rifles, the hand ax was more than I needed, for my legs were nimble. Julian got out his handsome shot-gun, and a dozen shells Rufe had loaded with buck-shot.
"Jes' two of dem 'ar buck-shot shells in my ol' gun and dat's all I needs," Rufe said. "Dey ain't nobody guine to come nigh dis heah schooner 'less'n I says de word."
We pulled the small boat high on' the beach, near the place where we had parted with Wayne and Robert, and without preliminaries we started off by the road. It was fearfully dark, but the trail was the path of least resistance, so we couldn't get lost. Two hours after the start daylight busted through the trees. In another hour or so we butted into a village. And the first pickaninny we met told us the way to "Brills," on the upper side of the village.
A black man, and a black woman, and a black boy, were at the door of the Brill mansion.
"We're looking for two white boys," announced Norris.
"Dey ain't no white boys 'round heah," said that black boy. And say! that voice had a familiar twang to it.
"Say, Robert," I spit out, "your face goes all right, but you'll have to smear the black better on that voice of yours, if you want to fool this kid."
We were all inside now; and it didn't take Robert long to tell his story.
"And so you are sure they've got Wayne in that old ruin?" said Norris, addressing this black man, Carlos Brill.
"Yes, I think ver' sure," said the man. "I see they go that way with him."
"Well, Captain Marat," began Norris, "I say storm the place at once."
"Yes," assented Captain Marat, "we have to do something."
"But we'll have to go slow," Robert said. "That place must be lousy with those cannibals; and no one knows how many guns they'll have."
Well, Norris was willing to go slow, if he could only go soon. And we were not long getting started.
That black fellow, Carlos Brill, led the way, and that black fellow, Robert Murtry, with him. Julian and I were rear guard. And they gave me Wayne's rifle to carry.
It wasn't long till we got out of the woods into an open spot; and then they showed us what they'd figured out was Wayne's prison. It was way over on the other side of a ravine; and say! it was the queerest looking, half tumble-down old palace!
We went down into the ravine; and on the other side Carlos Brill took us out of the path – afraid of an ambush, or something – and we began to slip and stumble among the roots, and brush, and snaky-looking lianas that hung between the trees. Why the place wasn't full of monkeys I don't know. There wasn't any use of anyone telling us to go slow, this wasn't any fast track.
When we stopped, to let our breaths catch up with us, Carlos told us we hadn't much farther to go. But he wouldn't be able to get us nearer to the palace under shelter of the forest than about four hundred yards.
"Don't let that worry you any," said Norris. "Captain Marat or I, either one, won't ask anything better, if we can draw them out."
"Yes," agreed Captain Marat, "four honderd yard' do ver' well."
I'd seen them both shoot, and I agreed with that. And they had belts and pockets full of ammunition.
Well, we finally got to the place, with that big old half ruin on the opposite side of the clearing. Norris picked a tree, with big branches near the ground. Captain Marat took up a position seventy-five or a hundred yards to the left. Those two big-gun men and Carlos had decided on their plan of campaign, and the rest of us got behind a good screen and awaited developments.
Jean Marat banged away first, sending a ball through an opening in the second story of that old palace. All