A PRISONER--AND A SURPRISE.
Bob’s shout acquainted the savages with the fact that there were two
whites to be dealt with instead of one. The scoundrel in the canoe
dropped his paddle and picked up a spear. The dugout dropped a little
behind, but the savage brought the ungainly craft nearly to the conning
tower with two sweeps of the paddle. The next moment he let his spear
fly, and there came a bloodcurdling whoop from the tower hatch.
Carl, as usual, happened to be in the way of trouble. He had flung
through the periscope room and chased after Bob up the ladder. Bob
avoided the spear by dropping to his knees. It passed over his head,
snapped Carl’s cap off his shock of tow-colored hair, and carried it on
for a dozen feet, dropping out of sight with it beneath the water.
“Vat a vay iss dot!” bellowed Carl. “Tick, handt me oop a gun, or a
gannon, or somet’ing. Bob, look oudt a leedle!”
Carl forgot the loss of his cap, forgot even that he had asked Dick for
a weapon, and scrambled to get out of the tower and go to his chum’s
aid.
The savage who had been climbing up the rounded deck had made a spring
for Glennie’s back. Bob Steele leaped about the same time, grabbing the
native before he could do the ensign any harm.
Bob, and the man he was holding, fell to the deck, rolled over the
rounded plates, and splashed into the water.
“A rope!” howled Carl, jumping up and down on the deck to attract
Dick’s attention; “a rope! Bob is in der vater mit a Inchun, und he
vill be trowned!”
Dick came hurrying up the ladder with a coil of line.
“Here!” he cried, tossing the coil to Carl. “Get busy, mate. I’ll lay
the _Grampus_ closer, and mind Bob gets hold of the rope.”
Bob and the native were still struggling. The fact that they were in
fifteen or twenty fathoms of water did not seem to impress either of
them with the necessity of swimming to keep afloat.
When they first tumbled into the water, there was a great splash, and
they disappeared; when they came up, they were puffing like porpoises,
but Bob had his hands around his antagonist’s throat, and the savage
was hanging to Bob’s hair.
“Help Glennie!” sputtered Bob, who, by then, was some distance astern.
“Capture that man!”
“Glennie be hanged!” growled Dick. “We’ll save our chum, no matter what
happens to the ensign.”
Carl, standing ready to heave the rope, was mixed up in the ensign’s
battle by an unexpected trend of it which nearly knocked him overboard.
The two, still twisting and striving for possession of the spear,
struggled toward the conning tower and collided with the Dutch boy.
The matter of self-defense suddenly presented itself to Carl, and he
dropped the rope and went for the savage like a tiger.
It was not the spear Carl wanted, but the savage himself. The ensign
was eliminated, and Carl and the native went down on the deck, rolling
and pummeling.
“Jujutsu!” exclaimed the ensign, astounded at the science the untutored
savage was showing. “Look! He’s using jujutsu and trying to break
Pretzel’s arm!”
“Save the arm, then!” snorted Dick. “Run that spear through the swab.”
Glennie did not impale the savage on the point of the spear, but he
used the handle, and gave the arm that was bending Carl’s a stout
thump. A gasp escaped the savage’s lips, and his arm dropped away as
though paralyzed. Carl rolled over on top and got his fingers about his
antagonist’s throat.
“Gif me der rope!” he cried. “Misder Glennie, schust put a leedle piece
oof der rope aboudt der feller’s handts!”
Dick Ferral was not paying much attention to the fight Carl and Glennie
were having. They were two to one, and there could not be much doubt as
to the result of the contest. Dick’s worry was reserved for Bob, for it
seemed as though the savage in the water was bending every effort to
drag Bob under and drown both of them.
The other savage in the dugout was paddling like mad in an effort to
get alongside the combatants. It had taken some time and space for the
submarine to turn about on her course, and Dick was now driving her
straight for the two in the water.
So far as Dick could see, both Bob and the savage were almost at the
last gasp. How they ever kept afloat at all was a mystery.
As the boat shot in between the dugout and the pair in the water, the
third savage could have thrown his spear to good effect--if he had had
it. But he did not have it, and all he could do was to paddle off and
furtively await the issue.
The submarine glided alongside Bob and the Indian, and Dick immediately
made a discovery that took his breath.
The savage was yellow in spots--half yellow and half mahogany color.
“Here, Bob!” cried the voice of Glennie as he knelt on the deck while
the submarine slowed in answer to Dick’s signal. “Drop that fellow and
catch this rope!”
“I can’t drop him!” gurgled Bob.
Glennie reached over with the spear and tapped the savage on the head.
Instantly the fellow, with a fierce snarl, let go of Bob and vanished
under the hull of the _Grampus_.
Bob, thus left with his hands free, caught the rope and was dragged
aboard. Glennie snaked him to the top of the deck, and, for a space,
the young motorist lay there.
“Did you capture the other fellow?” asked Bob, as soon as he had rested
a minute.
“He’s tied to the other end of the rope that I used for pulling you
in,” replied Glennie.
“Good enough! Did you notice how that rascal I was fighting with
changed color in the water?”
“You bet!” cried Dick. “I saw that! Was it war paint he had on?”
“No war paint about it, Dick,” declared Bob. “There was a yellow skin
under that brown paint.”
“And dis feller is der same vay!” called Carl. “Look ad here, vonce!”
All eyes turned in the direction of the Dutch boy. He was sitting on
his enemy’s chest, holding him down, and there were dabs of brown
pigment all over Carl’s face. His hands were fairly coated with it.
“These savages have a yellow skin, Bob,” said Glennie, “and it must be
that they paint themselves a brown color when they go on the warpath.”
“If what I have read is true,” returned Bob, “there are no savage
tribes at the mouth of the Amazon. All the Indians in these parts are
at least half civilized.”
“Then where did these rascals come from, and why have they attacked us
in this venomous manner?”
“They came from that island where we cleared the propeller,” said Bob.
“These are members of that gang?”
“Don’t you recognize them, Glennie?”
“They all look alike to me. Of course, I suspected they were from the
same tribe, but I didn’t know they were the same men. There were five
of them on the island.”
“You wounded one of the others. Probably one of the fellows stayed
behind to look after the wounded man’s injury.”
“But how could they get here in that dugout, and lay us aboard, as they
did? We’re a good way from that island.”
“No doubt, Dick,” said Bob, “they surmised that we would take the South
Channel on our way to Para. While we were meandering around in that
blind passage they were paddling for this place, and getting ready to
attack us.”
“I like their nerve!” muttered Dick; “three of ’em tryin’ to capture
the _Grampus!_”
“You don’t think they live on that island, do you?” asked Glennie.
“They live on an island, all right,” returned Bob, “but it’s a good
many thousand miles from here.”
Carl took a furtive look at Bob Steele. “You vas joshing!” he exclaimed.
“If you fellows had your eyes,” replied Bob, “there wouldn’t be any
joshing.”
“Some of that dope is still fogging your brain, I guess,” observed
Dick. “But what’s the use of talking? You’ve got your prisoner, Mr.
Glennie. Better bring him downstairs. First thing you know he’ll be in
the water, and take Carl along with him.”
“Nod me!” piped Carl. “Dere is a rope aroundt his handts, und I’m
holting him on der top of der deck. But I guess ve might schust as vell
dake him by der periscope room.”
“Look at him first,” suggested Bob. “Glennie, you give him a close
observation. I’m surprised at you fellows.”
Glennie, Dick, and Carl were at a loss to know what Bob was driving at.
Walking over to the prisoner, the ensign bent down and stared at him.
“What!” he gasped, straightening up and peering excitedly at Bob.
“Tolo!”
“Now you’ve struck it,” laughed Bob. “Those supposed savages were
merely a detachment of our old friends, the Japs. I discovered that as
I dropped into the water. That’s why I called out as I did. Here’s our
resourceful acquaintance, Tolo. First he’s a Jap, next he’s a Chinaman,
and now he’s a native of the Amazon. There’s no telling what he’ll be
next time if we allow him to get away from us. Take him below, and
let’s have a talk with him.”
Glennie and Carl, between them, succeeded in getting Tolo down the
tower hatch. Before Bob went below he took a look behind. The dugout
was far in the distance, with two men at the paddles.
From this evidence it was plain that Bob’s antagonist had gained the
canoe and was now, with his companion, paddling swiftly away to rejoin
the rest of their friends.