“It’s very peculiar that Donald should have undergone such a sudden
change of front,” said Jack later that evening, following the boy’s
strange way of receiving Mr. Jukes’ proposal. “He certainly appeared to
want to go along the worst way a few hours ago.”
“I can’t help thinking that he has been up to some mischief,” replied
Billy. “He’s got himself a new outfit somewhere and I saw him paying his
hotel bill.”
“Well, at any rate that’s a laudable act,” laughed Jack. “After all, we
are not much concerned with anything that he does now.”
“No, that’s true. By-the-way, how is that wireless idea of yours for a
portable set getting along?”
“First rate; I’ve got it all worked out on paper and have cut the weight
down to fifty pounds without the aerials.”
“Good for you. I’ve got a notion we can make a lot of use of it.”
“At any rate it won’t be much of an extra load and it might get us out
of a tight place, who can tell?”
After some further talk the boys decided to turn in, as they had to be
up early the next day. It was a hot, close night when the heavens seemed
to be pressed down like a brazen lid on a pot. Far off, flashes of
lightning illuminated the distant sky toward the mountains where, for
all they knew, the millionaire’s abducted brother might be concealed.
“Phew! It’s warm,” exclaimed Jack. “I guess I’ll take a bath before I
turn in.”
The boys’ bedroom was typical of hotels in that part of the world. Its
floor was bare except for a strip of matting. There were two beds in it,
hung with mosquito netting curtains, and a tiny wash basin and jug. An
old-fashioned bell-pull hung near one of the beds and Jack decided to
give it a tug and order a bath, when one of the native “bell boys”
appeared. After a long interval, one of the barefooted functionaries of
the hotel arrived. Jack made his wants known and the man hurried off
again without a word.
“That’s odd,” commented Jack, “but I guess he’s gone to fill it and will
be back directly to say it’s ready.”
They waited for some time before a soft patter of bare feet was heard in
the hall and two of the native servants entered carrying between them a
barrel. Another followed with a sort of dipper made out of a cocoanut.
The boys stared in amazement as the men advanced to the middle of the
room and solemnly set down the barrel and then stood about waiting with
an expectant look on their faces.
“What in the world is all this?” demanded the amazed Jack.
“Him your bath, boss,” came the answer, “you gettee in him ballel, we
washee you.”
“I’ll be jiggered if you do,” exclaimed Jack. “Get out of here,” and the
men hurried off, first staring at the boy as if they thought he was mad.
“Well, a New Guinea bath certainly accounts for the appearance of some
of the natives I’ve seen about,” he laughed, as soon as they had left.
“But I suppose I must make the best of it.”
So Jack’s bath consisted of dipping water out of the tub and pouring it
over himself, trying not to flood the room. But apparently he did so,
for soon a loud and indignant voice was heard at the door.
“Who is there?” demanded the boys.
“Sapristi! Eet is I. Zee landlord. You flood zee place. Zee water drip
on me.”
“Sorry,” sang out Jack, cheerfully, “but I’m doing the best I can. You
see, I’m not used to the customs of the country yet. I don’t understand
your way of bathing.”
“What do you mean zee bathing?”
“I’m trying to get a bath in this barrel that you sent me up.”
“Taking a bath!” shouted the landlord in a startled voice, “a bath at
zees time of zee night. You must be crazee. Anyhow, you drop no more of
zee water on me. I sleep zee room undaire.”
“Well, he doesn’t look as if a little water would hurt him,” commented
Billy, as the landlord’s footsteps retreated down the passage.
The boys were soon in bed, but not to sleep. Their exciting day amid new
scenes had rendered them wakeful and then, too, the beds of the Hotel
Bomobori were not couches of roses. The sheets and pillows smelled
abominably of camphor and mildew, and the latter appeared to have been,
or so Billy declared, stuffed with corn cobs. The same applied to the
mattresses. But as if this was not enough, there came a sudden shrill
cry from somewhere in the room:
“Beck-ee! Beck-ee! Beck-ee!”
“What in the nation was that?” cried Billy, considerably startled.
“Somebody calling for 'Becky,’” laughed Jack, “but Rebecca won’t answer.
Go to sleep, Billy, if you can, on these miserable beds. It must be some
insect.”
“I hope it isn’t anything venomous,” muttered Raynor.
“Better keep your curtains close drawn and then it can’t get at you,
anyhow,” advised Jack.
“But then it shuts out all the air and I almost suffocate,” complained
Billy.
“Wow!” he yelled a moment later, in a tone that roused Jack, who was
almost asleep.
“What’s the matter, Billy?” he asked anxiously.
“Ugh, something soft with legs on it just ran over my face,” cried
Raynor. “For goodness’ sake get up and get a light. It may be something
that bites or stings.”
Jack lost no time in getting hurriedly out of his bed, and as he shook
the curtains something was dislodged from them and went whirring and
banging round the room, blundering heavily against the ceiling.
“What the dickens——!” exclaimed the boy, considerably startled, when
another cry from Billy split the air.
“Ouch, for the love of Mike. A light, quick. Something just nipped my
toe.”
Jack fumbled for the matches; but, as is usual in such cases, he located
every object in the room before he found them, finally colliding with
the washstand and sending it with a crash to the ground floor. An
instant later there was the noise of slamming doors below and the
landlord came racing up the stairs to the boys’ room.
“Ciel! What is zee mattaire zees time? First you try drown me, zen you
make zee beeg crash like zee tonnaire!”
“It’s all the fault of your old hotel,” exclaimed Jack angrily, going to
the door. “This room is full of some kind of animals. It’s a regular
menagerie.”
He opened the door and the landlord, with a curious-looking night-light,
composed of a wick floating in a tumbler full of some strong-smelling
oil that gave out a powerful odor of sandal wood, came inside. Instantly
there was a mighty scuffling and several ugly looking lizards darted off
across the floor and a huge bat (no doubt the creature that had vacated
Jack’s bed-curtains with such a prodigious flapping) went soaring out
through the open lattice-work doors which led out on the verandah, but
which the boys had left open for coolness. There were also a dozen other
specimens of unclassified insects, both winged and legged, which went
scuttling off at the sight of the light. Then the landlord’s eye fell on
the open doors.
“Sacre!” he cried, “nevaire did I such a foolishness see.”
“What’s the matter now?” demanded Jack. “The only foolishness I can see
is in our coming to this hotel.”
The landlord shrugged his shoulders as if in despair.
“What else do you expect but zee bat, zee scorpion, zee centipede, zee
leezard, zee chigre, zee——”
“What makes a noise like 'becky, becky, becky’?” asked Billy, breaking
in on the catalogue.
“Ah! Zee biting leezard 'ee do zat.”
“Then that fellow that nipped my toe and the one that sang out for
Rebecca must be the same individual,” cried Billy indignantly, “but go
on with your catalogue.”
The landlord looked puzzled.
“Zere was zee cat and zee dog 'ere, too?” he demanded.
“No, I said the catalogue. The list of insects you were rattling off.”
“Oh, well, I was going to say to you not to leave zee porch doors open
in zee night. And also nevaire go to bed wizout lighting one of zees
lights.” He tapped the peculiar-smelling night-light he held. “See, here
eez one 'ere on zees table.”
“Well, you can’t blame us for not knowing what it was,” protested Jack,
as he lighted it. “I thought it was some peculiar kind of drink. It’s
the first time I ever saw light served in a tumbler.”
“Zee light veree good,” said the landlord, as he was leaving the room.
“Zee animal no like zee light, also they no like zee smell.”
“I don’t blame them,” said Jack, after the man had left, and the odd
tumbler lamp was burning with a sputtering, smoking flame, “especially
the smell part.”
“Anyhow, anything is better than sharing your bed with
you-don’t-know-what creepy-crawly things,” declared Raynor.
“Yes, and lizards that go round hollering girls’ names,” agreed Jack. “I
fancy we’ll sleep better now. But, after all, we’ve got to get used to
it all for we may meet worse in the jungle.”