Rhonda turned and eyed him coolly. "He may have had his faults," she
said, "but at least I never heard him say an unkind thing about any
one."
"He was never awake long enough," said Jimmy contemptuously.
"I don't know what I'm goin' to do without him," observed Orman. "There
isn't anybody in the company I can double for him."
"You don't think you're going on with the picture after what's
happened, do you?" asked Naomi.
"That's what we came over here for, and that's what we're goin' to do
if it takes a leg," replied Orman.
"But you've lost your leading man and your heavy and your sound man and
a lot more, and you haven't any guides, and you haven't any porters.
If you think you can go on with a picture like that, you're just plain
cuckoo, Tom."
"I never saw a good director who wasn't cuckoo," said Bill West.
Pat O'Grady stuck his head inside the tent. "The Chief here?" he asked.
"Oh, there you are! Say, Tom, Atewy says old Ghrennem will stand all
the guard with his men from 12 to 6 if we'll take care of it from now
to midnight. He wants to know if that's all right with you. Atewy says
the Arabs can do better together than workin' with Americans that they
can't understand."
"O.K." replied Orman. "That's sort of decent of 'em takin' that
shift. It'll give our boys a chance to rest up before we shove off in
the morning, and God knows they need it. Tell 'em we'll call 'em at
midnight."
Exhausted by the physical and nervous strains of the day, those members
of the company that were not on guard were soon asleep. For the latter
it was a long stretch to midnight, a tour of duty rendered still
more trying by the deadly monotony of the almost unbroken silence of
the jungle. Only faintly from great distances came the usual sounds
to which they had become accustomed. It was as though they had been
abandoned by even the beasts of the forest. But at last midnight came,
and O'Grady awoke the Arabs. Tired men stumbled through the darkness to
their blankets, and within fifteen minutes every American in the camp
was deep in the sleep of utter exhaustion.
Even the unwonted activity of the Arabs could not arouse them; though,
to be sure, the swart sons of the desert moved as silently as the work
they were engaged upon permitted--rather unusual work it seemed for
those whose sole duty it was to guard the camp.
It was full daylight before an American stirred--several hours later
than it was customary for the life of the camp to begin.
Gordon Z. Marcus was the first to be up, for old age is prone to awaken
earlier than youth. He had dressed hurriedly, for he had noted the
daylight and the silence of the camp. Even before he came into the open
he sensed that something was amiss. He looked quickly about. The camp
seemed deserted. The fires had died to smoldering embers. No sentry
stood on guard.
Marcus hastened to the tent occupied by Orman and O'Grady, and without
formality burst into the interior. "Mr. Orman! Mr. Orman!" he shouted.
Orman and O'Grady, startled out of deep sleep by the excited voice of
the old character man, threw aside their mosquito bars and leaped from
their cots.
"What's wrong?" demanded Orman.
"The Arabs!" exclaimed Marcus. "They've gone! Their tents, their
horses, everything!"
Neither of the other men spoke as they quickly slipped into their
clothes and stepped out into the open. Orman looked quickly about the
camp.
"They must have been gone for hours," he said; "the fires are out."
Then he shrugged. "We'll have to get along without them, but that
doesn't mean that we got to stop eating. Where are the cooks? Wake the
girls, Marcus, please, and rout out Jimmy and Shorty."
"I thought those fellows were getting mighty considerate all of a
sudden when they offered to stand guard after midnight last night,"
remarked O'Grady.
"I might have known there was something phoney about it," growled
Orman. "They played me for a sucker. I'm nothin' but a damn boob."
"Here comes Marcus again," said O'Grady. "I wonder what's eatin' him
now--he looks fussed."
And Gordon Z. Marcus was fussed. Before he reached the two men he
called aloud to them. "The girls aren't there," he shouted, "and their
tent's a mess."
Orman turned and started on a run for the cook tent. "They're probably
getting breakfast," he explained. But there was no one in the cook tent.
Every one was astir now; and a thorough search of the camp was made,
but there was no sign of either Naomi Madison or Rhonda Terry. Bill
West searched the same places again and again, unwilling to believe the
abhorrent evidence of his own eyes. Orman was making a small pack of
food, blankets, and ammunition.
"Why do you suppose they took them?" asked Marcus.
"For ransom, most likely," suggest O'Grady.
"I wish I was sure of that," said Orman; "but there is still a safe
market for girls in Africa and Asia."
"I wonder why they tore everything to pieces so in the tent," mused
Marcus. "It looks like a cyclone had struck it."
"There wasn't any fight," said O'Grady. "It would have waked some of us
up if there had been."
"The Arabs were probably looking for loot," suggested Jimmy.
Bill West had been watching Orman. Now he too was making a pack. The
director noticed it.
"What do you think you're goin' to do?" he asked.
"I'm goin' with you," replied West.