The last melancholy duty to the captain discharged, Don threw himself
heart and fist--as Jack would have said--into the work cut out for him;
and by the time the _Jolly Tar_ was again rubbing her nose against the
inner wall of the grotto, he had decided to abandon the Haunted Pagodas
and to make this secluded spot--next door to the back entrance of the
Elephant Rock--his base of operations.
“Up to now it's been all take and no give,” he said to himself; “but now
we've got to act, and act like a steel trap, sharp and sure. What is it
the old school motto says?--'_bis dat qui cito dat_,' 'a quick blow's as
good as two any day.' The old Roman who strung that together knew what
he was talking about, anyhow, and I'll put his old saw to the test
before another sun sets.”
In the letter of which Bosin had been the bearer Jack had said--“They
take me to the Elephant Rock to-night.” Twice since then had night come
and gone; and if his chum had not perished in the village holocaust, in
the Elephant Rock he was probably to be found. Hurrah for the finding!
The muskets were still at the “fo'csle,” for that sad midnight descent
of the hill had left their hands too full for weapons. Besides, none
were needed then. They were needed now, however, so there was nothing
for it but to climb the hill after them. This, and the time necessarily
consumed in snatching a hasty meal, delayed the start by a good two
hours.
At length all was ready, and tumbling into the canoe they pushed off.
To stick to the literal truth, Spottie did the tumbling. In spite of all
his efforts to assume a dignity of carriage in keeping with his weapons
and the occasion, the cutlass at Spottie's belt would persist in getting
at crosspurposes with his long, thin legs, and so throw him, physically
speaking, off his balance. Once seated in the canoe, however, with the
point of the cutlass in dangerous proximity to Puggles's back, and
the old flint-lock so disposed upon his knees as to hit Don to a dead
certainty if by any mischance it went off, Spottie looked exceedingly
fierce--in fact, an out-and-out swashbuckler.
Not so Puggles. No weapons could make him look other than what nature
had made him--a happy-go-lucky, fun-and-food loving, sunny-faced lump of
oily blackness. The extra broad grin that tugged at the far corners
of bis expansive mouth proclaimed him at peace with all the
world--especially with that important section of it bounded by his
swelling waistband--and gave the lie direct to his warlike equipment.
Of crossing the creek Don made short work, and soon they stood upon the
rock platform, where, but little more than twenty-four hours before,
the landing and sudden disappearance of the native crew had put them in
possession of the key which was now, if fortune favoured them, to unlock
the secret of Jack's fate, and, haply, the door of his prison-house.
Yonder on the right--for the spot was light enough by day, despite
its curtain of vegetation--could be seen the black mouth of the tunnel
running under the creek, and so to the summit of Haunted Pagoda Hill;
here, on the left, that by which the natives had taken their departure.
It was with this that Don's business lay now; and as he led the way into
it he recalled with a sorrowful smile that quaint fancy of the captain's
which made this approach to the Rook “the tail o' the Elephant.” And
here was the very spot where he had uttered the words. He almost fancied
he could see the old sailor standing there still, his wooden leg thrust
well forward, his cap well back, and Bosin perched contentedly upon his
broad shoulder. Alas for fancy!
But what was this that came leaping down the dim vista of steps? No
creature of fancy surely, but actual flesh and blood. Only flesh and
blood in the form of a monkey, it is true, but what mattered that, since
the monkey was none other than Bosin himself?
A jubilant shout from Puggles greeted his appearance--a shout which Don,
fearful of discovery, immediately checked--while Spottie made as if to
catch the returned truant. But the impish Bosin would have none of him;
eluding the grasp of the black, he sprang upon Don's shoulder. Only
then did Don observe that the monkey was not empty-handed. He carried
something hugged tightly against his breast.
Like all his tribe, Bosin had a pretty _penchant_ for annexing any
chance article that happened to take his fancy, without regard to
ordinary rights of property.
“Prigging again, eh?” said Don, as he gently disengaged the monkey's
booty from his grasp. “What have you got this time?”
To his astonishment he saw that he held in his hands the lascar's cord,
and--surely he was not mistaken?--the fellow to that half of Jack's
handkerchief in which his letter had been wrapped up when despatched
from the village per monkey post.
Bosin's mysterious disappearance, then, was explained. In quitting his
dead master's side so unaccountably he had had a purpose in view--a
monkeyish, unreasoning purpose, doubtless, but none the less a
purpose--which was none other than to track the lascar to his lair and
regain possession of the cord. Not that he knew in the least the value
to Don of the yard of twisted hemp, or the significance of the scrap of
crumpled, bloodstained cambric he was at such pains to filch. With only
blind instinct for his guide, he had been guided better than he knew;
for while the cord proved the Elephant Rock to be the hiding-place of
the lascar, the handkerchief proved, or seemed to prove, that Jack was
still alive and that the lascar's hiding-place was his prison.
Don's heart leapt at the discovery.
Perhaps Jack, unable for some reason to scribble even so much as a word,
had entrusted the handkerchief to the monkey's care, knowing that the
sight of it would assure his chum of his safety, if it did no more. Or
perhaps Bosin had carried it off while Jack slept?
A thousand conjectures flashed through Don's brain, but he thrust them
hastily aside, since mere conjecture could not release his chum; and
calling to the blacks to follow, he sprang up the steps with a lighter
heart. The monkey swung himself down from his perch and took the lead,
as if instinctively divining the object of their quest; chattering
gleefully when the trio pressed close upon his heels--impatiently when
they lagged behind.
The steps surmounted, they discovered an offshoot from the main tunnel,
from which point of division the latter dwindled straight away into a
mere dot of light in the distance. In the main tunnel itself the light
was faint enough; but as they advanced it increased in brilliancy till
presently--the distance being actually much less than the unbroken
perspective of chiselled rock made it appear--they emerged suddenly into
the broad light of day, streaming down through an oblong cleft or gash
cut deep into the solid heart of the Rock.
The light itself was more welcome than what it revealed.
Directly across their path, at their very feet indeed, extended a
yawning chasm, of depth unknown--but, as the first glance served to
show, of such breadth as to effectually bar their further progress.