The Voodoo Gold Trail. Walden Walter
of decay had gnawed big gaps in the top parts, but the lower stories still boasted a sound fabric; and might even be habitable. What a place to play in!
But we got a rough awakening from our dreaming contemplation: There came the sudden crack of a gun, and the ball whizzed close over our heads, causing us to drop flat on the ground and wriggle away lively into the underbrush.
For above a quarter of an hour we crouched in our burrow, not daring to move, or even converse in a whisper. Then, with infinite labor and extreme caution, we finally worked our way back to the path, down which we trotted, half expecting a shot from some ambush.
We had just passed the ford at the bottom of the ravine when we were startled by the sudden appearance of a black directly in our path.
It proved to be Carlos, the brother of our hostess, who had come in search of us. When we had recited our adventure he was inclined to scold.
"Id is ver' danger' to go to thad place," he said, "Melie say she tell you about thad."
The shadows already covered the open spaces and it was night when we came to the cottage of Carlos and Melie Brill.
Carlos told us that he had got it of friends in the city that M. Duran's schooner had been in the harbor.
"And where did the schooner go that he did not go with it?" I asked.
"Oh, the schooner she go not so ver' far," said Carlos. "She hide in one bay not ver' far away, I guess."
We had not spoken long with Carlos Brill, till it became plain that in his mind this man, Duran, was associated with some kind of emotion, and it was equally plain that that emotion could not be given the name of love. The real nature and source of this sentiment he seemed disposed to keep to himself; though he was in no pains to make us believe that his willingness to help us was entirely disinterested.
Melie Brill had a meal prepared. The chief dish was a soup, as she called it; carrots, yams, pumpkins, turnips, bananas, salt pork, and pimentos, boiled all together. Pineapple and bananas made the desert. Our host gave us to understand we were already installed, as of the household. They would listen to no other way of it.
These two, brother and sister, were not much of a kind with their neighbors. It was plain, dark as they were, they were of some mixed blood, it was shown in the features and hair, which was straight, not even deigning to curl.
Before we had finished our supper there appeared the black neighbor who had so recently lost a child to the voodoo. She seemed to have sensed, in some manner, the purpose of our visit, for she wished Robert and me all kinds of success. This was interpreted to us by Melie Brill, for the woman had only the West Indian-French. She gave me a kind of fetish; it was of some very hard wood, the shape of a bird, bill and tail, and the thickness of a marble. She said that within was a drop of blood of a great wizard, and that it would preserve me from a violent death (and so from the attacks of the zombis) and would insure success in my undertakings. She was soon gone, for it is the practice among all the natives to retire to bed early.
The desire to press our business was upon Robert and myself, and we put a number of questions. We desired to know who they were who inhabited the ruined palace, and who it could have been who fired the shot at us over there.
"I do not know who it is who stay there," Carlos answered, "an' I do not know who fire' the shot."
"Don't you think it's that man, Duran, who makes that his headquarters?" I pressed.
Carlos exchanged a look with his sister before he spoke. "I have suspect for some time, that Duran he keep there, when he not away in hees schooner," he said. "I have think that for two year."
"Hasn't anyone seen him around there?" queried Robert.
"No," returned Carlos. "No one have seen any white man that way, but I suspect Duran he go there."
"Then," I asked, "do you think that's where he has hidden little Marie Cambon?"
"Yes, ver' like'," said Carlos.
Further talk only strengthened our conviction. Next we required of Carlos to guide us to a barren hillside – some spot in range of the harbor, so many miles below. This Carlos professed to be easy of accomplishment.
We went the way we had been in the afternoon. The forest was of an inky blackness; even the stars could seldom be seen from the path. Carlos had no trouble to keep the road. A perfect hush was over everything until the night birds and frogs tuned up to show that the world was not dead.
When we got out into that open space, instinctively we turned our eyes across the valley in the direction of the mysterious palace. And then, as if for our particular benefit, a light flashed over there. It disappeared in the same moment, only to appear again, perhaps at another point near. Again it went out, and though we waited some minutes, it showed no more.
"There's some one there, sure enough," observed Robert.
"Thee people here have see' the light many times," said Carlos. "They theenk it is the zombis."
"I guess Duran is the king Zombi," said Robert.
Carlos laughed. "I theenk you right," he said.
We passed through another patch of forest and climbed to a ledge on the steep hillside. To gather a pile of wood was the work of but five minutes. Then we set it akindle.
Using our jackets for a screen, we began to signal, alternately covering and exposing our fire. Our friends on the Pearl must have kept a good watch, for hardly two minutes had passed, till we made out an answering signal.
"Ray is on the job," said Robert.
Then I spelled out, in short and long flashes, the following words:
Good So Far.
Then came from the sea the terse acknowledgment: O.K.
"That ought to hold Norris," said Robert.
"Yes, till tomorrow night," I returned. "If we don't signal them again tomorrow night, Norris will be piling up here hand over foot."
Carlos had been very quiet, taken up with watching our procedure. That mode of communication was far from unknown to him, but it seemed to him marvelous that white folk should use it. But the wonder of it all was that we could spell out any words we pleased in that way.
"An' if you tell your frien's to come, they weel come?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered, "they will come, in a hurry."
That somehow seemed to please Carlos; and he became pensive. We had put out the fire and were already on our way back through the black forest. When we came again to the open space, we stopped for near half an hour, in the hope that we might again have a sight of the mysterious light over at the old ruin.
While we squatted on the ground, watching, my mind was taken up with the problem of how to discover where little Marie Cambon was hid; and would our little handful of men be sufficient to storm the place? I put the questions to Carlos.
"No – No!" declared Carlos, "the voodoos are too many, and they watch ver' careful, as you have find out."
He referred to our being fired on.
"Wait till tomorrow, then maybe I fin' out sometheeng," he said.
Carlos and his sister made us a pallet in the arbor at the back.
CHAPTER VI
WE BREAK UP THE VOODOO CEREMONIAL
Carlos was gone when Robert and I awoke. Melie told us he had gone off early on our business, and had left word that we were to lay close, till he returned.
Our excursion over to that old ruin of a palace, we were to learn, had been a bit rash. In fact, before the morning was gone, the woman who had given me the fetish came over to report that black men had been about, with inquiries as to the movements of the two white boys.
Carlos turned up at noon. He had been angling among some of the lesser voodoo devotees. There was no news of any white child being held for sacrifice; but there had been passed word of a big voodoo ceremonial to take place either this night or the next. The place was some ten miles back in the