A WILD RIDE
"All aboard, mate!" shouted Daley.
"Keep together," called out Dave.
"It's going to be a tussle," panted the sailor. "My, but she's a
skittish one."
Daley had mounted one of the _dadons_ after cutting its tether. Dave
had succeeded in landing himself on the back of another.
The _dadons_ were horses in all things except a peculiarly long mane and
a head shaped like that of a zebra.
The minute Dave got mounted he managed to form the tether into a kind of
a nose loop, but he could get no control of the animal under him. He
could simply hold on.
Both _dadons_ were wildly averse to being ridden. That on which Daley
rode made a blind dash through the corral ropes, and Dave's animal
followed him.
Some darts rained about the fugitives for a minute or two.
Then disappointed howls alone told of the natives they had eluded.
"Try to stop," shouted Dave to Daley, who was in the lead, after they
had made a reckless rush of fully two miles across a great level stretch
of heather.
But Daley did not hear Dave or was unable to heed him. He kept straight
on. The heather ended. A great range of hills presented. As Daley and
his steed turned into these, Dave lost sight of them.
He had given a thought to Jones and Lewis and felt it his and Daley's
duty to look up the fellows, even if their courage had failed them at a
critical moment.
Dave, however, could not stop the _dadon_ he rode. The animal was
perfectly uncontrollable. It went like a flash, snorting frightfully,
blindly grazing tree branches that hung over the rough route, and once
or twice Dave was nearly swept from its back.
He could now only assume that Daley was somewhere ahead, that sooner or
later the animal the sailor rode, superior to Dave's own in speed, would
tire out and slow down.
"We mustn't become separated," Dave told himself. "Ah, there he is."
Dave caught a flashing view of steed and rider at a break in the hills.
Then they disappeared. He held on tightly, hoping his tarpan would
follow its mate.
It was now daylight. The scenery about was indescribably wild and
grand. Now they had reached a broad and level plateau. There would be
a clear space, then a dense timber stretch.
This alternation kept up for many a mile.
"Where is Daley?" was the anxious theme of Dave's thoughts. "I am going
to control this animal," he decided doughtily, a minute later.
Dave tried to form the loose end of the tether into some kind of a
bridle. Jolted about, forced to cling closely at least with one hand
all of the time, however, for fear he would be thrown off, Dave had to
abandon this experiment.
"The sea!" he cried suddenly, catching a distant view of it. "That's
all right," said Dave. "Whether ahead or behind, Daley will make for
the seashore. Maybe he's there now. Whoa! Whoa! I've got to jump.
Too late!"
The animal had been dashing down an incline for some time. Emerging
from a belt of verdure with startling suddenness, a sheer dip to the
edge of a cliff was visible.
The _dadon_ could not stay its course. It fairly slipped the length of
the dip. So fast did the animal go that Dave had not time to leave its
back before its flying hoofs had struck nothingness.
Forty feet down a dead-water bay showed, dotted with islands. The
sensation of descent was one of breathlessness.
The animal struck the water squarely with its forefeet. Steed and rider
were borne under completely.
Dave arose, free from the animal at last.
He floated, catching his breath, and saw the _dadon_ swim towards the
shore and go scampering out of sight along the wooded beach.
"Well," commented Dave, "here's an adventure. I'm thankful for whole
bones. I hope that Daley has fared quite as luckily."
Dave swam ashore. He sat down by some bushes and took off his coat, to
dry it in the sun. Under the bushes was plenty of dead wood, and he
reached out and secured two pieces to form a sort of clothes-bar.
These he had arranged in due order. Dave reached for a third piece. He
seized what he supposed to be a fragment of old wood. It felt soft,
yielding, and drew away from his hand with startling suddenness.
"Eh, why," cried Dave. "A human foot!"
The object had disappeared, but there was a rustling under the dense
foliage of the bushes.
"I'll have this out," declared Dave, and jumped to his feet and pulled
aside the bushes.
Cowering on the ground, his face showing alarm and suffering, a pitiful,
pleading look in his eyes, was a dusky native.
"The outcast--the man I saw with the priest of the tribe two days ago,"
exclaimed Dave. "Yes, it's the same man."
Dave was tremendously worked up at this recognition. He stood regarding
the native speculatively. He fully realized that this meeting might
mean a great deal to himself and his friends.
Had he not seen the person now before him give a lot of the treasure
gold pieces to the priest of the tribe?
Was he not then as now persuaded that the outcast knew where the rest of
the treasure was secreted?
"Why," said Dave, "this man holds the key to the whole situation. Now
then, my friend, you and I must understand one another."