FOUND!
Dave Fearless pulled farther away the bushes that still half-screened
the native. The man sat up, and spoke some words feebly. Dave shook his
head. The man sank back dejectedly, knowing now that Dave could not
understand him.
Dave saw that the man was hurt and helpless. He tried to find out how.
The outcast's face expressed some relief as Dave gently lifted one arm
and then the other. Then the outcast pointed to one lower limb.
Dave moved this. The man winced. Dave's face grew serious.
"His left leg is broken," said Dave. "Too bad!"
Dave found that the man's kneebone was completely shattered. He seemed
to have had a terrible fall. As Dave proceeded with his ministrations
gently, the man pointed to the cliff.
"Fell over there, eh?" translated Dave, nodding as the man went on with
expressive gestures. "Pursued by many, many. Yes, I see. You want to
go farther? That way? The island out there? My man, I don't think you
will stand much moving."
Dave spent an hour bathing the injured limb and setting it in splints.
It was a crude surgical operation and must have pained the sufferer
intensely, but the very fact of kindly attention and treatment seemed to
cheer up the poor fellow.
"I've certainly got a new and great responsibility on my hands," thought
Dave. "What am I going to do now? If he is recaptured, he will
probably be sacrificed. If he is left here alone, he will starve and
die of neglect. Yes," said Dave firmly, "black or white, friend or foe,
the poor fellow relies on my sympathy. He is going to get it, too, to
the fullest extent. I won't desert him."
Dave busied himself looking for food. He hoped that Daley or the other
two men might show up. He was near the sea. The _Swallow_ might happen
by.
"Well, you're a persistent sort of a fellow," commented Dave, as the
outcast for the twentieth time or more pointed to the island he had
first indicated in the same pleading way. "What do you want to go there
for?"
The outcast put his finger in the sand and traced a boat there.
"Ah, some kind of a craft on that island," guessed Dave. "Do you mean
that? All right, I'll investigate."
Dave disrobed and swam to the island the man had pointed out.
He went all over it, and finally, among a thick clump of reeds, he came
across a canoe. "Good!" cried Dave, feeling that he had been well
rewarded for his care to the sufferer. "Why, it's a splendid little
craft, paddles and all. The man must have brought it here and hidden
it. He made for this spot when pursued."
When Dave got back to his patient with the canoe, the latter could not
conceal his satisfaction and delight.
He motioned Dave to drag the canoe close up to him, which Dave did. He
reached over into the bow and pulled out a bag made of skin.
This he handed to Dave with a free, hearty gesture, indicating that it
was a gift.
Dave opened the bag. His pulses beat pretty high. His hopes grew
immensely.
"More of the gold--the same gold, part of the treasure!" he exclaimed,
with glowing eyes. "I was surely right. This man knows all about the
treasure."
Dave looked at the outcast speculatively. He wondered how he could make
him indicate more. He, too, began tracing in the sand. It was an
intricate and laborious task. At the end of an hour Dave looked
triumphant.
"It's plain as day!" he cried, preparing the canoe for a voyage. "The
man indicates that this gold is a mere sample of what he can produce.
It is hidden on an island west. He pokes dots in the outline he draws,
as if it is full of caves. He is angry at the treachery of the
Windjammers. He will have nothing further to do with them. If I will
cure him up, he will take me to the treasure. If I will stay his friend
and carry him away from his enemies, he will give up all the gold--all
of it. Oh! a famous bargain. Well, I simply must find the _Swallow_
now."
Dave got afloat. He put some soft grasses in the bottom of the canoe
and made the invalid comfortable.
They got out to sea, and the youth progressed with some skill, for it
was not his first experience with the paddles.
During the ensuing ten hours Dave did not see any craft afloat or person
ashore. He kept going north.
"Somewhere along the coast I am bound to run across the _Swallow_," he
confidently told himself.
Dave was utterly worn out as dusk began to come down over land and sea.
He did not cease his paddling, however, tired as he was. Some distance
away he had made out a familiar landmark.
The shades of night were falling as Dave drove the canoe past the
natural curtain of vines that hid the cave for which he was making.
"Oh, see!"
He dropped the paddles and sat like one transfixed. A glorious picture
was outlined by a cheerful camp-fire ashore.
It showed animated figures preparing an evening meal--comfort, good
cheer, homelikeness.
But most of all, the radiant flare showed the stanch dear old steamer,
the _Swallow_, in a safe harbor and in friendly hands.