MYSTERY SINGERS OF THE NIGHT
Mildred was leaning forward, lips parted, listening intently.
"What are they singing?" she whispered.
"I can't make it out," was Johnny's slow reply. "Too far away.
Besides--it doesn't sound like English, at all."
"Now," she said, softly, "now it is coming out stronger." A sudden breeze
wafted the distant voices toward them.
"It's a funny old song," said Johnny. "I've heard it somewhere. Perhaps
it's from light opera."
"But how strange to be singing that, here! Who could they be?"
"Who knows?" Johnny answered slowly.
"Now they're coming closer," he said a moment later. "Must be eight or
ten of them!"
"Suppose they come all the way?" She gripped his arm firmly. "That would
be--"
"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!"
"We might, some day. Only--"
"Only what?"
"It might be dangerous."
"Poof!--What is danger?"
"I know. That's the way I feel, sometimes. What's the use of being afraid
of--of anything?
"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."
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.
Somewhere in the jungle a jaguar screamed Nearer at hand some night-bird
sang: "Oh--poor--me! Oh--poor--me!"
"It's dark," Johnny whispered. "Seems like the folks should be back?"
"They were going quite a distance, and anyhow they took flashlights."
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.
"There!" The girl's sudden exclamation startled him. "They've stopped
singing! I expected that!"
"Why?"
"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."
"And you think--?"
"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."
"Or--coming on!" Johnny stepped to the corner and took up the rifle.
"No!" the girl's tone was decisive. "They've turned back."
A moment passed in silence;--two--three--four--five. Then the girl sprang
silently to her feet.
"Come!" she gripped his hand. "Let's go have a look!"
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:
"Shish!"
"Sounds like oars," Johnny whispered back.
"It _is_ oars!" came back in a barely audible whisper.
"Then they came by boat."
"Yes. Come on!" Once more she gripped his hand and this time they
advanced slowly, cautiously. Not a twig snapped.
Once again they paused as a low, bumping sound reached their ears.
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.
"Can you beat that!" Johnny murmured, softly.
"We must have been mistaken," said Mildred, wonderingly.
"Only we were not!" Johnny thought. But he made no comment.
Gripping his arm, the girl led him along the beach until they came upon a
mark in the sand.
"A boat was pulled up here," she said, positively.
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."
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.
"What she doesn't know won't worry her," he told himself a moment later.
"Well," Mildred said, in a tone of forced cheerfulness, "this seems to be
the end of the search. Let's go back."
"O.K."
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."
"For protection as well as profit?"
"Yes."
"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".
"I'll ask him tonight, if he'll take me down."
And she did.
"What's that?" Dave asked, as they all sat on the porch, a little later.
"You want to go down in our steel ball?"
"Yes. Yes--I--I'd like to." The words took real courage, as she did _not_
want to. In fact--she was dreadfully frightened at the thought. And yet--
"Well," said Dave, "I don't see why you shouldn't--tomorrow."
"To--tomorrow?" She shuddered slightly, but he could not see her, in the
dark.
"Yes, tomorrow. There'll be no picture-taking. I'm going after a
sea-green monster--probably the largest octopus anyone ever saw!"
"Oh--o--o!"
"He won't get _you_," Dave laughed. "Can't get inside the ball. What do
you say? Is it a date?"
"Yes--I--yes! Yes! Sure it is!"
"Fine! Can you be on board at eight in the morning?"
"Yes--I--I'll be there. Thanks--thanks a lot!"
"Well," she whispered to Johnny a short time later. "He's going to take
me down! Tomorrow! And I'm scared pink!"
"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!"
"That," she replied with a slightly unsteady chuckle, "will be a very
great honor!"
* * * * * * * *
As Johnny changed to heavier clothes for his watch, later that night, the
disc he had found on the beach, fell from his pocket.
He picked it up and realized instantly that it was a button from a
uniform jacket.
"So that's it!" he murmured, as he buried it deep in his pocket.
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.
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.
"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.
"Debts," he sighed, "that haunt them till they die."
Doris came on deck. "You just _can't_ sleep on such a night!" she sighed.
"It's too wonderful--the river, the moonlight, and the dark, mysterious
jungle at night."
"And the spies," Johnny added. "Don't forget them!"
"The--the spies?" She stared at him.
He told her of his adventure with Mildred, and, of the mysterious night
singers.
"They vanished," he ended. "Vanished into thin air. And they had a boat
of some sort. We saw its mark in the sand."
"How thrilling! How sort of spooky!" she murmured.
"And there's the code of the green arrow," Johnny added. "We solved
that--or rather Mildred did." He explained it to her.
"That sounds dangerous." She seemed a little startled. "But it--it
doesn't affect us, does it?"
"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 _we_ are the
counter-spies, and that we're watching them from the steel ball, and--"
"The steel ball! How _could_ we?"
"Well," Johnny replied slowly, "perhaps we couldn't. That was just a
notion. But we _could_ be counter-spies."
"But we're not!"
"That," he laughed, "is what they may not know."
"Oh, you and your spies!" she exclaimed. "You're always taking the joy
out of life. Look at that moon!"
"I have been looking at it. Big as a barrel!"
"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--"
"Only what?"
"The sharks."
"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?"
"I'll do it." She put out a hand and, solemnly, they "shook" on it.
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.
One question brought him up with a start. If these people were foreign
spies--why did they speak in _English_? 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 _required_ to speak English! If they were
keeping in touch with some of their own people by short-wave--_of course_
they would speak English! Otherwise, anyone listening-in on their
messages, would instantly suspect them.
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.
The night was long, too, and he was tired. He rejoiced when the first
flush of dawn told him a new day was here.
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--"
"There's someone _I'd_ like to take down," Johnny said, suddenly.
"Who?" Dave questioned.
"Old Samatan."
"In the name of goodness!" Dave exclaimed. "Why?"
"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."
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--"
"Nothing will happen." Dave broke in. "This is the quietest place in the
world."
"Do you think so?" Johnny asked, with a little smile.
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."
"Soon?" asked Johnny.
"Any time you like," was the answer.
Thanking Dave, Johnny ambled off to his berth for a long and dreamless
sleep.