Dave Fearless and the Cave of Mystery: or, Adrift on the Pacific

IN THE ROYAL PALACE

Bang, bang, bang, bang!

Such a vivid, unfamiliar racket had seemingly never before disturbed the native town of the Island Windjammers.

The whole settlement seemed to wake up at once. Bob Vilett was fairly startled at the result of his sharp rapid fusillade.

He had a heap to do, however, and he had no time to observe what was going on outside.

The balloon called first for Bob's attention. The shots alone had not directed the excited natives to the public tribune. The balloon, rising majestically, centered all eyes on that central meeting-place.

A hush of awe hung over the crowd. Bob started up the phonograph.

He did not know what the little machine was saying. He could only surmise that it was grinding out a speech from Stoodles. Loud and sonorous rang forth the tones of the fertile-minded Milesian.

Bob, venturing to peer from the bowl that encased him, was truly amazed.

Most of the crowd that had gathered stood perfectly still. Some of the more superstitious, at a sight of the strange balloon, had fallen prostrate in terror.

The speech now coming forth from the phonograph had a wonderful effect. It seemed to transfix the people. There was not a murmur, a stir, until the last word had issued from the phonograph. Then babel broke loose, the spot was deserted by magic. Men shouted, yelled, ran over each other in a pell-mell dash in the direction of the king's palace.

Bob tried hard to guess out the situation. He could only reason that the speech in the old familiar tones of their former king, coming from an unseen, mysterious source, had duly impressed the people. The shots, the balloon now dropping a vivid trail of sparks far aloft, had added to the general effect.

"I suppose I'm due to wait here until further orders," ruminated Bob. "I'd like to know what is going on in the palace, though."

Bob got restive thinking about this. The commotion and excitement around the palace were momentarily increasing.

"I can be of no further use here," thought Bob. "I don't see how Stoodles is going to get me out of here without giving the natives a hint as to my agency in sending up the fireworks and playing the phonograph. I'm going to get out of this; yes, I am."

Bob was an impatient, persistent sort of a fellow. Having made up his mind to leave his hiding-place, he promptly succeeded in getting out of the bowl and down onto the ground.

"I'm safe in this outlandish garment Pat gave me," reasoned Bob, securing his belongings under its folds. "I'm going to join the procession and see what is going on."

Bob pressed on the outskirts of the howling, excited mob that surrounded the palace. Then he edged his way in among them.

He found out that the robe he wore was indeed "taboo." People made way for him. Thus proceeding, Bob got finally right up to the little pagoda that Stoodles had designated to him as the royal council room.

Its entrance was choked and crowded with natives trying to enter.

Bob kept working his way farther and farther along. At last he squeezed past two great greasy sentinels and saw Pat Stoodles.

The Milesian sat on a heap of skins next to a throne raised on a daïs. Upon the throne itself sat a dusky native. Bob decided, from his manner and the deference with which he was treated by the others, that he must be the king.

All around were savages, more or less decorated in a way not common with the simple natives.

These persons, Bob knew, must comprise the nobility and the high-priests of the tribe.

Stoodles was speaking volubly, and seemed to take his honors and the situation in an easy, familiar way.

Of course Bob could not understand the native tongue, but he quickly saw that in some way the shrewd Milesian had got things on a most friendly basis with the tribe and its leaders.

"I wish I could get nearer and attract his attention," thought Bob. "I want him to know I have left the public square. I'll venture it. Pat!"

The next moment Bob Vilett was sorry he had spoken. He had not realized that to utter a word unbidden in the royal council room without royal permission was to court the severest public censure.

Four guards grabbed him up in a moment. All those around the royal daïs looked towards the present center of commotion in amazement.

Bob struggled in the grasp of his fierce captors, but was hampered by the bundles he carried. Suddenly one of the guards discovered he had shoes on. They tore away the garment encircling him. Some hurried words were called out to the king. In stern tones that monarch responded.

Bob could tell from the menacing manner of the guards that he was being borne away to punishment.

"Stoodles! Pat Stoodles!" he shouted at the top of his voice.

"Aha!" he heard Stoodles exclaim, and then the Milesian added words in the native language.

The guards looked amazed. They received a new order from the king. Bob was carried to the foot of the daïs.

"Make a bow," suggested Stoodles, and Bob did so. Stoodles no longer wore the mourning garb. That on Bob was riddled.

"It's all roight. I was soon coming after you," said Stoodles. "Everything is fixed."

"How fixed?" inquired the wondering Bob.

"Don't you see," insinuated the smiling Stoodles, with a gracious wave of his hand, "nothing is too good for me or my friends?"

"How did you work it?" asked Bob, feeling perfectly safe and easy now.

"That phonnygraph recited a great spaach of mine. It told the people that they would find their old king, myself, seated on the throne here. Why, lad, when they did find me I could have ousted the new king in a minute. I was magnanimous, though. I only asked some information. I told him he could keep his throne in peace."

The king and his counselors stared at the twain as they conversed, but did not interrupt.

"Whisht, lad!" continued Stoodles, with a chuckle. "They've given me some great information."

"What is it?" asked Bob.

"The Raven crowd are alive. I have found out where they are."

"Good!" said Bob.

"I have threatened all kinds of fire gods and cyclone demons unless they set Dave Fearless free."

"Will they?" asked Bob eagerly.

"Shure they will. He'll be here safe and sound in a few minutes. There's the guards they sent for him now."

Some natives bearing spears came hurrying into the room. There arose a great excited jabber. Stoodles rose up in manifest disappointment.

"What about Dave?" persisted Bob.

"Ochone!" cried Pat Stoodles. "Dave has spoiled everything!"

"Spoiled everything?" repeated Bob.

"Yes; Dave has escaped."

CHAPTER XXV

THE CAPTIVES

"Mr. Daley, you are a brave man."

"Glad of the compliment, Dave Fearless. I hope I deserve it."

"You certainly do," asserted Dave warmly. "But where are Jones and Lewis?"

Daley, who had flushed with pleasure at the handsome compliment bestowed by the young friend he was learning to like and respect, scowled and muttered angrily at this allusion to the companions who had been captured with them by the natives on the cape bluff.

"They're cowards, that's what they are," cried Daley angrily, "the miserable villains."

"Well, I hope they got away safely, anyhow," said Dave simply.

"They don't deserve it," growled Daley. "Now then, lad, so far so good. But what next?"

"That's so," remarked Dave Fearless. "What next, indeed?"

It was the second day after their capture. Dave and Daley were in a queer environment, to explain which it is necessary to go back to the hour when they were discovered on the cape bluff by the natives.

Their great joy at the discovery of the Swallow so near at hand off the island coast, had been quickly shadowed.

As Dave's anxious friends had seen through the spyglass from the deck of the steamer, the arrival of a large body of natives had put an end to the freedom of the young ocean diver and his companions. All four were surrounded and bound.

While some of the savages went on with their fetich ceremonies on the bluff to cast an evil spell on the Swallow, the others marched the captives to the native town.

There they were placed in a wretched hut, without any roof. The hut filled a cavity in the ground. About a dozen natives squatted on the surrounding level, and were thus enabled to keep the captives constantly in sight.

The rest of that day and the next passed in this irksome confinement. The prisoners were given food and water, but the great vigilance of their guards was not relaxed.

There was not the least opportunity afforded to escape.

When night came again, Daley and the others went to sleep. They had become disheartened. Dave, however, never gave up. Escape was constantly in his mind. His chance came at midnight.

Dave did not know it then, but Stoodles and Bob Vilett were responsible for the opportunity afforded.

Of a sudden, Dave caught the sounds of great commotion in the center of the native village, from which their prison place was quite remote.

Some men came running by, shouting loudly to the guards. Dave was amazed to see the last two of these spring to their feet in great excitement. They babbled like frightened monkeys. Then, with frantic yells, they dashed away towards the village.

It took Dave Fearless less than a minute to arouse his sleeping companions. It took less than another minute to show them that a golden opportunity for escape was presented.

It had not been a question of getting rid of their bonds at any time. These had grown loose from their twisting about during the day. It was the work of but a moment to cast them to the ground.

"There is not a single guard left," said Dave. "Something great and exciting is evidently happening at the native village. Work fast, men. We must get out of the enclosure some way quick as we can. Then a dash for the timber yonder."

Daley braced himself against the side wall of the enclosure. Dave mounted to his shoulders. As soon as he got safely over on the solid ground, Dave secured some poles. These he slanted down into the prison place. The others scrambled up them with agility and had soon joined him.

"What's that?" demanded Daley suddenly. "There it is again. No, gone. Something like a big fireball. The trees shut it out. Now then, Fearless, lead the way."

Daley had caught a momentary glimpse of the balloon Bob Vilett had sent aloft. Had Dave seen this, it might have suggested the near proximity of friends from the Swallow and have changed his plans.

As it was, he, like his companions, had only one thought in view-to get to a safe distance before the guards might return, discover their absence, and arouse the tribe to a general pursuit.

The refugees were most fortunate in their movements for the next few hours. Dave had struck out due west. They soon passed all signs of habitations.

It was two o'clock in the morning when they halted. The others lay down on the ground. Dave rested a few minutes. Then he arose and walked a short distance from the spot.

He was intent on studying their surroundings and learning what prospect lay beyond a sharp rise just in their course to the west.

The moon shone brightly, but by spells clouds occasionally crossed the sky. Dave had to wait for these fitful illuminations to pick his course.

Near to the top of the rise Dave halted, studied a slight glare, and then started on again with caution.

"A fire," he said. "Yes, I can smell smoke. Natives around a camp-fire? I guess that much. I must hurry back to the others and make back tracks double-quick."

Dave hastened along fast and recklessly. The sure proximity of enemies had startled him.

"What's this?" he gasped suddenly, lost his footing, took a header, and plunged into complete darkness.

CHAPTER XXVI

A THRILLING ADVENTURE

Dave had fallen down a hole covered with a thin network of branches and leaves. He knew it to be a trap, a pitfall, as he began his descent. There was a strong rancid smell about the spot, and the earth and the branches were thickly covered with grease.

Dave went shooting, feet first, down a smooth slant. He landed with a shock. Then he rebounded, lost his balance, and fell flat.

With a thrill he struck something moving, something that grunted, and tore away from him. It seemed covered with sharp, ugly bristles that had penetrated his hands like thorns.

Dave sprang to his feet in alarm. Fierce echoing grunts filled the place, a pit of considerable size. He quickly drew out a match and flared it.

"A wild boar," said Dave, and as he took in his situation he was swept off his feet with a new shock.

The momentary illumination had fully apprized Dave of his environment. The pit was a trap, its entrance scented and greased to attract victims.

A strong home-made rope was attached to a stake in its center. Its end was a loop. This loop now inclosed the neck of the boar, choking and imprisoning it. In fact, the fierce animal was fairly frantic.

The loop must have been placed in some way near to decoy food, tightening and securing its victim at a touch.

Now rushing around, the boar had swept Dave off his footing with the taut rope at which it struggled. It was upon him in an instant. Mad with pain and fright it tried to gore and crush him.

Dave managed to roll and squirm beyond its reach. Breathless and bewildered, he hurriedly drew out his pocket knife, opening its largest blade.

With blazing eyes the maddened animal made another rush at Dave. He went flat. Its tusk penetrated a double thickness of his clothing. It tugged at him, panting, grunting, squealing.

Snip-snip-Dave was all mixed up in the rope, almost helplessly at the mercy of the animal. He slashed out with the knife, but struck the rope instead of the boar.

The rope parted. Dave was dragged over the pit floor, his clothing firmly held by the spike-like tusk of the boar.

He had to go along, whether he would or not. Dave grasped one bristly ear of the boar.

"Whew!" he uttered, mind and body in such a turmoil that he could not realize what had happened till it was all over.

The boar, freed, had made a dash out of the pit. It seemed to Dave that it took some avenue of exit different to the slant down which he himself had tumbled into the pit.

At all events, he found himself in the open air, but borne along at a terrific rate of speed. He could hardly cling to the animal.

He let go his grasp entirely as the boar scaled a rise and toppled over. Dave, however, could not disengage his clothing. Then he was conscious of rolling over and over. The big animal seemed to fade from view in a swift flight. Dave's head struck something and he lost his senses.

When Dave came back to consciousness, there was no mistake as to his situation. A single glance enlightened him.

A dozen natives were working around a charcoal fire. They seemed to be hardening spear-heads, darts, and other weapons used by the Windjammers as weapons of war.

Near by was a square hut. Its door stood open, the only aperture it contained. Its top was flat and sunken, and leaning up against the sides of this parapet-like inclosure Dave noticed numberless weapons.

Dave lay flat on the ground, feet and hands both tied. The wild boar was nowhere in evidence. The natives were going on with their work.

"Weapon-makers," said Dave. "They seem to be finishing up their work, for the fire is going out."

Finally one of the men-there were four of them-finished holding a lot of spear-ends in the fire. He came and looked at Dave, discovered his eyes were open, and spoke some quick words to him.

Dave shook his head to indicate that he did not understand. A few minutes later all four men piled the various articles they had been burning upon a sort of litter.

They seemed about to carry this into the hut. Each took a corner of the litter.

Here something happened. Dave almost imagined himself in a dream, as he saw a swift form burst from some bushes near at hand.

It was Daley. He was armed with a great knotted club. Evidently he had been watching for just this opportunity to interest himself in behalf of his young friend and overpower his captors.

The four natives employed at the litter had no time or chance to defend themselves.

Whack! Whack! In turn two of them went flat with broken heads.

Whack! Whack! Their companions toppled over, and the litter fell to the ground.

"Up with you," roared the giant sailor, a cyclone of strength and resolution now.

He grabbed up Dave bodily, ran towards the hut, dropped Dave, closed the door, barred it, and stood panting and trembling with excitement as he proceeded to release his companion.

It was then that Dave Fearless made that fervid remark:

"Mr. Daley, you are a brave man!"

CHAPTER XXVII

THE POISONED DARTS

It was after a brief, hurried conversation that Dave and Daley began an inspection of their surroundings.

"You ask what next?" said Dave, stirring about to ease his cramped limbs and snapping a match. "I think we had first better learn the condition of the enemy."

"Hey, don't do that, lad!" called out Daley quickly, as Dave moved as if to open the barred door and peer out.

"There's no other way of finding out what we want to know," said Dave.

"Yes, there is!" declared Daley. "I just saw a ladder in a corner here. It leads to the roof, I think."

"Try it and see," suggested Dave, which they did.

"All right," announced Daley, as they came out on a square roof like a platform, "we can get a famous idea of the rights of things from here."

Dave surveyed the prospect in great curiosity. The roof resembled an arsenal. There were hundreds and hundreds of all kinds of spears, pikes, and darts.

Some were made up in bundles, some were leaning against the rising parapet as if slanted to catch the sunlight. In the center of the roof was a little raised platform. This held a lot of spears and darts, the heads resting in a big flat bowl full of some dark-colored liquid.

"There they are," announced Dave, glancing down at the spot where they had last seen his recent captors.

Daley, too, viewed the quartette. Two of them had fully recovered from their injuries. One was squatted on the ground, holding his head between his knees and rocking to and fro and moaning.

The fourth lay flat on the ground, still insensible, but the two able natives were rubbing him to restore him to consciousness.

"We're safe enough here," remarked Daley, with some satisfaction. "They can't possibly get in-they won't try."

"No, we seem to have a whole armory at our disposal," said Dave. "Stoodles taught me to use the dart pretty well."

"We could hold those fellows at bay for a long time."

"Just so," nodded Dave, "provided we are not starved out. You know it is folly to think of staying here if we can possibly get away. They would soon bring an army to surround us, and then all chances of escape would be gone."

"I knocked them out once," said Daley. "We'll try it again if you say so. It would be equal chances if those two cowards, Jones and Lewis, hadn't shown the white feather, after promising to join me and help me. The minute I pointed out the natives here to them, they cut stick for dear life."

"Well, they must take care of themselves, after this. Wait, we won't venture out yet, Mr. Daley. See, the fellows have got in trim to challenge us."

The four natives were now fully recovered from Daley's vigorous onslaught, it seemed.

They consulted and chattered, with frequent glances up at the enemy in possession of their stronghold.

One of them, evidently the leader of the group, worked himself up into a perfect fever of excitement and rage.

He approached nearer to the hut and shouted up a loud rigmarole to Dave and Daley. Suddenly wheeling around, he seized a dart from the heap on the litter.

So rapid and expert was he that even though the man dodged, it pierced Daley's cap through and through, showing its tremendous force by carrying the headgear fully twenty feet beyond the roof of the hut.

"Aha, two can play at that game, my friend," said Daley.

He seized a dart and hurled it back at the men. They laughed at him derisively as it struck the ground lightly and harmlessly beyond them. Even Dave had to smile at the sailor's sheer clumsiness.

Now the refugees had to duck down frequently, for all four of the natives began to shower the darts at them.

"I will try a hand," suggested Dave at last. "These on this little platform seem better made than the others. Hi-aa-ooa!" yelled Dave, standing up and poising the dart. He used the great war-cry of the tribe that Pat Stoodles had taught him in a moment of leisure.

The minute Dave raised the weapon a frightful uproar arose from the four men. Their eyes seemed fixed in horror on the poised dart. Like lightning they turned. In a flash they took to the nearest covert and hid themselves.

"Well, well!" cried the amused Daley, "that's a sudden change of front. Lad, there's some meaning to that move."

"Why, yes," said Dave thoughtfully; "they acted as if they were scared to death. I wonder why?"

He paused and turned the dart over in his hand, studying it critically.

"Say, Mr. Daley," he observed, "do you suppose this is some peculiar kind of a weapon that they attach taboo or some of their queer outlandish superstitions to?"

"Drop it!" all of a sudden almost screamed Daley.

He dashed the dart from the hands of his companion in a most startling way.

"Why, Mr. Daley-" began Dave in astonishment.

"Don't you ever go to feeling the points of those darts again, boy," said Daley seriously. "Look here."

He drew Dave nearer to the little platform in the center of the roof.

"I've guessed it out," said Daley. "Yes, it must be so. See that liquid stuff the dart heads are resting in-see the rattlesnake heads in a heap yonder?"

"Why," exclaimed Dave comprehendingly; "poison!"

"Poison of the most deadly kind, lad!" declared Daley. "We've got them now. They won't dare to show their heads as long as we shake one of those poisoned darts at them. Only be careful how you handle them. They are sure, sudden death. One of the Raven crew was struck with one of them in an attack the first time we landed here. He died in an hour."

The camp-fire burned down gradually. Their enemies remained under cover. The clouds grew heavier, and there was finally no moonlight or other illumination of the scene.

"It will be daylight soon," remarked Dave, after a long spell of silence. "Mr. Daley, we mustn't stay here."

"Right, mate. I've been thinking of that myself."

"See here," said Dave, going to the remotest corner of the roof away from the front of the hut. "There's a tree with some branches in reach. Let us take that route. The trees are thick, clear over to what looks like some kind of a corral yonder."

"An excellent idea," voted Daley. "Well, try it, lad."

Dave's suggestion was a pronounced success. They got to the first tree, to a second, to a third. Apparently their escape was unobserved by the natives.

"We're safe enough now," said Daley. "I say, lad, look down. Whatever are those queer-looking animals?"

"Horses," said Dave, straining his gaze at a kind of corral, inside of which half a dozen animals were tethered.

"They don't look United States like," observed Daley.

"No; they are called dadons. They are very rare here, Stoodles told me. I never saw but one before."

"Suppose-" began Daley, descending to the ground. Then suddenly he exclaimed: "They're after us!"

From the nearest bushes some darts cut the air as the two refugees reached the ground. The next moment, showing that they had been aware of their movements all along and were awaiting just this opportunity to attack them, the four weapon-makers burst into view.

"Run for it!" shouted Daley.

"This way," directed Dave, dashing towards the corral. "Out with your knife, Mr. Daley. Cut the tether of one of those dadons. I'll do the same. We may escape those natives yet."

CHAPTER XXVIII

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."