by Roy Rockwood
CHAPTER XVII
A REMARKABLE SCENE
"Well, this is queer."
Dave Fearless looked curious and acted as if startled. By the time hehad got near to the ledge where he had seen the mysterious signal,daylight had come.
Long since that illumination had been discontinued. Dave had pausedwith due caution as he approached its cause. He had lurked behind a bigrock fronting the shelf of stone.
No other sound or presence was indicated, and after a spell ofwatchfulness Dave decided to approach closer. It was as he peeredaround the edge of a cavelike opening fronting the ravine that heuttered the words:
"Well, this is queer."
The cave extended back into the hill a long way. Dave could decide thisby the shadows cast by a light that burned about fifteen feet from itsopening. A rude earthen pot of native construction was filled with somekind of oil. A wick, made out of some fibrous plant, burned within it.
This light illuminated a long broad piece of matting laid across thefloor of the cave. As Dave examined the various articles spread out onthis mat, he was filled with amazement.
There were all kinds of dishes, such as Dave had seen in the homes ofthe Windjammers. These were made of thin bark and decorated with figuresof flowers and birds outlined in berry stains.
"The wonder of it all, though," said Dave; "food, and such food--allkinds."
In the dishes were berries and other fruits, a kind of tapioca breadalso. Then there were meats, all cooked and cold, and some fish thesame. There were also two quite tastefully made bowls filled with aclear white liquid that Dave took to be cocoanut milk.
Dave watched for a long time. The display tempted his appetiteprodigiously.
"Of course there's a proprietor for all this elegant layout," said Dave."What's the occasion of it? Where is he?"
Dave sent a piece of stone rattling noisily into the cave, then asecond. He waited and listened.
"I don't believe there is anyone in there," he decided. "I can't resistit. I don't know who this feast is spread for, but I want a share ofit."
Dave stepped forward boldly now. His audacity was increased as he madeout a spear standing against a rock. Dave took the precaution to armhimself with this. Then he came still nearer to the food.
Whoever had prepared the feast was, in Dave's estimation, a mostadmirable cook. The various articles he sampled tasted most appetizing.
"Fine as home cooking," said Dave, with satisfaction, stepping back fromthe mat. "One man wouldn't have all that stuff for breakfast, though.Is it some native ceremonial like Stoodles has told me about? Or doesthe man expect friends? That's it," Dave reasoned it out. "Maybe hehas gone to meet them. I had better make myself scarce."
Dave was now satisfied that he was really on the Windjammers' Island.The articles in the cave were in a measure familiar to him. Then, too, aglance from the cliffs as he had ascended them had shown a distantcoastline, suggesting precisely the spot where Captain Broadbeam,himself, and the others had been marooned.
Dave resolved to appropriate the weapon he had taken up. He started toleave the cave and retrace his steps to the beach. At the entrance hepaused abruptly and started back.
"Too late," he exclaimed; "someone is coming."
Dave had almost run out upon two men. A curious circumstance preventedthem seeing him. They were approaching from the direction opposite tothat from which he himself had come in reaching the cave.
Both were natives. The minute Dave saw them he instantly recognizedthem as belonging to the Windjammers' tribe of which his friend PatStoodles had once been king.
One of them was a thin, mean-looking fellow, scrawny and wild-eyed. Hewas creeping on hands and knees along the path. His pose and mannersuggested the utmost humility.
The other was a man gayly decked out. He wore a richly embroidered skinacross his shoulders and a necklace of gaudy shells. He had a kind ofmace in his hand. The lordly manner in which he carried his headindicated extreme pride and importance.
"Why," said Dave, backing into the gloomy depths of the cave, "that isthe same dress the man wore who was the great priest of the tribe when Iwas on the Windjammers' Island the first time."
There seemed to be no doubt but that Dave was back on the oldstamping-ground of Pat Stoodles. He was not at all sorry for this. Itwas the destination of the _Swallow_. Perhaps the steamer had alreadyreached it.
"Things are working easier for me than I had any right to expect,"reflected Dave, "only I must keep out of the clutches of any of thenatives till I locate my friends."
Dave got behind an obscure rock. From there he peered intently at thetwo men who now entered the cave; the one crawling on his hands andknees, the other maintaining still his lofty bearing of superiority.
Reaching the mat, the guide arose to his feet. He showed the greatesthumility and respect in all that he did.
He made a gesture to have his visitor sit down to the feast. The lattershook his head in great disdain.
Then the evident resident of the cave groaned and wept and rolled allover on the ground as if in the deepest despair. In a mournfulsing-song voice he seemed to make an appeal to his august visitor togrant some prayer.
The priest finally stamped his foot and spoke some quick words. Theother arose. The priest, fixing a menacing eye upon him, advanced, andputting out a hand, tried to pull aside the garment which the man woreon the upper part of his body.
The poor wretch seemed frantic. He clung close to the garment, seemingespecially anxious not to expose his back or shoulders.
The priest, however, managed to tear the front of the garment open.Then Dave half understood the situation from something he remembered tohave heard Stoodles tell about on a previous occasion.
A peculiar mark, a circle inclosing a cross, was visible on the chest ofthe suppliant.
"I know what that means," mused Dave. "They brand their criminals, drivethem away, and if they ever approach the tribe again, they burn themalive. That is the outcast brand. Stoodles told me so when he was onthis island with me."
The refugee cowered with shame. Then he kicked aside some of the dishesof the feast which his august visitor had spurned.
"I'm glad of that," thought Dave. "Now he won't be likely to noticethat I have been trespassing."
The outcast went to a sort of shelf in the cave. He came back, poisinga small earthen crock in his hand.
He began a quick talk to the priest in a louder, more assured tone. Thelatter suddenly changed his manner. His eyes sparkled. He looked eagerand excited.
The outcast seemed to be giving a most glowing description of thecontents of the little crock. Dave tried to follow his meaning.
"He is saying," translated Dave to himself, "that he has greatquantities of whatever the crock contains--lots of it, heaps of it--Isee. Now he has interested the priest. He is offering to buy hiscitizenship back into the tribe, that looks sure. Ah, he is showingwhat he has in the crock. Gracious!"
Dave forgot all prudence. He was so interested that he slipped out fromhiding to gaze at the contents of the crock, now poured out rapidly bythe outcast upon the food mat.
Fortunately the two men were equally engrossed. What the outcast hadpoured out of the crock were half a hundred or more pure gold coins!
