DREAMS
Before they began this thrilling flight Doris and Nieta had told their
pilot the exact location of their home in the village of Terre Plaisance.
Cape Haitian, his own headquarters, was some twenty miles from their
home. This distance they had expected to cover on donkeyback or on foot,
as circumstance permitted. Imagine their surprise when, as they watched
the ever changing panorama that passed beneath them, they began
recognizing little hill peaks and dark groves that formed the
surroundings of their own little village and not Cape Haitian at all.
"Surely," Doris said to herself, with a little intake of breath, "he
would not attempt to land in our garden, or the village street. That
would be impossible."
As for Nieta she was busy whispering to her snake-tooth charm, for she
expected nothing else than that they would go crashing into some rocky
hillside or plunging into the forest.
The plane circled once. It circled again, this time much lower. A third
time they circled, so low that Doris could count the tiny flower beds in
the garden. For a half minute she held her breath, then like some wild
fowl that circling has failed to find water, the plane shot upward and
away.
Curlie Carson and Dot heard the drumming of the plane and wondered at its
presence there.
"I have never seen a plane here before," said Dot.
"Perhaps," said Curlie, "they have had some word of the revolution that
is brewing and are on the lookout for the rebel camp."
"I doubt it," said Dot. "I--
"But look!" she broke short off to stand staring. "They're coming down.
They--they'll crash!" She put both hands over her eyes to shut out the
sight. But of this there was no need, for the plane disappeared silently
behind the distant treetops.
"Come on!" said Curlie, seizing her by the hand and dragging her down the
trail. "They can't be far away. They may be injured--dying. The plane may
be on fire."
Then madly, recklessly, heedless of bruises and scratches, they went
racing, scrambling, rolling, tumbling down the hillside.
"We--we must be half way there," Curlie said, panting.
Again he paused to puff. "Can't be far now."
Imagine their surprise when, as they parted the branches of a low palm
tree, they came upon an open, uncultivated field and saw in the midst of
that field an airplane resting safely upon its landing wheels.
"Of all things!" said Dot.
"And there are girls," said Curlie. "Two of them."
"That," said Dot, sitting down upon the ground with alarming suddenness,
"is Doris and Nieta. Nice trick they played on us."
"I've heard of them but never met them," said Curlie, offering the girl
his hand. "Suppose you take me over and give me an introduction."
A half hour later, after many a laugh and much introducing and
explaining, when the gallant young pilot had flown away the four young
people, Doris, Dot, Johnny and Curlie, marched away toward the village of
Terre Plaisance, which was now but a comfortable walking distance away.
* * * * * * * *
"Curlie," said Johnny, late that night, as they sat with their feet on a
broad window sill, looking through a great window to a scene of matchless
beauty, tropical flowers, waving fronds and a sky sprinkled with stars,
"Curlie, old boy, a fellow could almost settle down to something like
this. I've never seen anything quite like it, have you?"
"No," said Curlie, "I haven't. I've been in the northern wilds. Too cold
up there. I've seen the Amazon country. Too hot. Too humid. Too many
bugs. But here--look out there. Sense it all, the night, the perfume of
flowers, the stars."
Perhaps they thought too of the girls who had left them but a short half
hour before. Their dresses that night had formed a strange contrast to
that worn in the bush. Khaki had been replaced by filmy things of
brilliant color. Doris had been dressed in pink and old rose; Dot in dark
blue and a glorious orange hue. Together they had played low, haunting
native airs on banjo and ukulele, while the palms accompanied them with
the ever restless rustle of the mysterious jungle.
"Yes," said Curlie, "we could almost do it, but not quite. Only one thing
keeps us from it."
"What's that?"
"The existence of a mystery yet unsolved."
"Yes--many mysteries."
"And so," Curlie yawned, "we'd better turn in, for to-morrow is another
day."