Indeed, the long-legged scout seemed to perform a complete revolution in the air, landing on his knees among the bushes.
Two seconds later, when Elmer dashed out of the shack, this was the astonishing spectacle he saw—the woman running away as best her bulk allowed, casting glances that were half frightened, half triumphant, behind her; while Mark was sitting up, rubbing a bump on his forehead ruefully, and Lil Artha had taken out a handkerchief to dab at his bleeding nose.
Still, nothing short of an earthquake could ever bottle up the flow of animal spirits that usually possessed the lanky one.
While he applied his handkerchief until it looked particularly gory, he was bent upon giving expression to his views.
"Wow! and again I say, wow! What cyclone was that we ran up against, Elmer? Did you let fly with that club of yours, or did the old shack just take a notion to fall over on us? It felt like I was being kicked by an army mule."
"Same here, Elmer," lamented Mark, as he succeeded in struggling to his feet.
"Well, it wasn't anything like that at all," declared Elmer, hastily; "and if you take the trouble to look yonder, before your eyes begin to close up, you'll see what hit you, running away like a scared hippopotamus."
"Glory be! Was it that dago woman?" yelled Lil Artha, now on his feet again.
"Yes, she burst the door open when she saw me, and as you chanced to be in the way, why, you got the benefit, that's all," Elmer remarked.
"Don't let her get away, fellows! Come on, who's afraid? We can cover three feet to her one. Let's make her a prisoner," shouted Lil Artha, whose usually even temper seemed to have been decidedly ruffled by his recent mishap.
So the three scouts left the shack and began to rush after the fleeing Italian woman.
Of course she knew immediately that she was being pursued. She tried to increase her pace, but evidently with little success. Short, dumpy people can never hope to compete with slim, long-legged greyhounds like Lil Artha.
And so, almost from the start, the three scouts began to close in upon the fleeing Italian woman.
"Say, she's got a bloody old knife," gasped Lil Artha, as they struggled on through the woods where the creeping vines and the underbrush, not to mention frequent logs and occasional woodchuck holes, made running a desperate business.
"That's so, Elmer," piped up Mark, "I saw her shake it at us then."
"I know it, fellows," said the scout master, "and that's what I was shouting about, to warn you."
"Are we gaining any, Elmer? I can't see just as well as I'd like, with this thing up to my nose," the lanky runner asked.
"Pulling up on her fast, my boy," came the reassuring answer.
"And what're we goin' to do when she turns on us?" demanded Lil Artha.
"First of all, surround her."
"That sounds good as far as she goes. What next?"
"We must try and knock that nasty thing out of her hand by a sharp blow on the arm," continued Elmer, who strangely enough seemed as cool as a cucumber, while both of his companions showed the effect of the mad pace.
"I tumble to it, Elmer," gasped Lil Artha, "and I'm the fellow to give that lovely little tap. I made Red drop his stick seven times when we were having a bout with long sticks, and which we pretended were the old-style quarterstaves."
Even the long-legged Lil Artha must see now that the distance separating the pursuers from the fugitive had been greatly shortened. Another five minutes would see them overhaul the woman, unless something not down on the bills came to pass.
Five minutes—why there would surely be ample time to bring this result about, judging by the way they were covering two yards to her one.
The woman knew it, too.
She was becoming more and more anxious. This was shown by the way she kept turning her head from time to time as she ran.
Elmer knew what was apt to happen. For himself he found that he had need of both his eyes with every step forward he took through that tangle, where trailing vines lay in wait to trip him up, and branches hung low as if seeking to catch in his hair, to make him another Absalom.
Already had Lil Artha gone down with a thud, but as he said himself, his "dander" was aroused, and no little things like this could be allowed to interfere with his pursuit.
So he had hastily scrambled to his feet and followed at the heels of his more fortunate chums, a sight calculated to excite wild laughter among the rest of the troop, with his blood-flecked face.
At any rate Lil Artha was game to the backbone, and Elmer often remembered it afterward when "trying out" his scouts.
The closer they drew to the fleeing woman the greater her fright seemed to become.
Whenever he saw her looking backward over her shoulder Elmer would make pantomime gestures with his free hand.
He was trying the best he knew how to tell her to give over this foolish flight, and that they had no hostile intentions.
But the chances were she interpreted these movements just the other way, and believed he must be threatening her with all sorts of terrible things unless she yielded herself a prisoner to their prowess.
Well, no matter, it could hardly last more than another minute or so. Do what she would the woman must find it utterly impossible to get away.
Already the active mind of the young scout master was busy, weaving a clever scheme by means of which they could surround the woman, and by attacking her all at once, succeed in knocking the shining knife out of her hand.
No doubt he would have succeeded in doing the job, too, had conditions continued to make such a move necessary.
But they did not.
The fickle hand of Fate came in between just in time to share in the matter.
It seemed to Elmer that they were constantly getting into a more tangled mess of undergrowth. All around and ahead were traps calculated to slyly catch unwary feet and trip them up.
Suddenly Elmer gave vent to a low gasping cry; but while Mark involuntarily turned his head to learn if his companion had gone lame, to his surprise and gratification he found the other running as smoothly and easily as ever, as though perfectly fresh.
"The woman!" shrieked Lil Artha, who, apparently, from his position in the rear had been enabled to see just what had happened.
"Where—is—she?" gasped Mark, once more allowing his eyes to travel ahead.
For, apparently, the fleeing Italian had vanished at that instant, as completely as though the earth had opened and swallowed her up.
"She's down—caught her foot in a root!" cried Elmer, not slackening his warm pace, for he wanted to make a quick job of the thing.
Then Mark saw that some object was threshing the bushes furiously. Twice the woman tried to rise, but on each occasion she fell back again.
Then presently he gave a shout as he guessed the true situation.
"She's caught fast in a vine, Elmer. Even the woods work with us! I tell you she's a prisoner right now! All we've got to do is to tie her hands!"
"But look out for that dandelion knife, boys," warned Elmer, as the three of them reached the spot.
* * *
CHAPTER XII.
THE LANGUAGE OF SIGNS.
It happened just as the boys had expected. While turning her head so often to see how near these persistent pursuers were, the woman had caught her foot in a stout vine.
She had been hurled to the ground with considerable force, but apparently received no serious injury. When she tried to regain her feet, however, on each occasion the clinging vine refused to release its hold. As a consequence she went down again.
Finally, as though realizing the uselessness of further struggling against Fate, the woman stopped trying to get up.
Having twisted around in some manner, she just sat there and stared at the three boys in khaki.
"Now she's wondering what we're going to do," said Mark, as they stood with the woman between them.
"Yes, she's frightened again, poor thing," remarked Elmer. "I'm afraid it's t
hese uniforms that have done it. She surely takes us for soldiers, and thinks we've come here just to arrest the whole bunch."
"I'm glad of one thing, though," said Lil Artha.
"What might that be?" asked Elmer.
"Looks like she must have dropped that fierce frog sticker when she fell, because you notice she hasn't got the old knife in her claws just now."
"That's right," admitted Mark, cheerfully, for the fact naturally pleased him.
"And here it is, right at my feet," said Elmer, as he stooped and took something from the ground.
It was the knife which the Italian woman had flourished so recklessly.
"My stars, what a savage-looking thing!" ejaculated Lil Artha, as he stared at the knife.
"Well, it does look wicked for a fact," remarked Elmer; "but after all, I reckon she's never done anything with it but cut dandelion greens, or else prepared fish," and he took occasion to bring the blade close to his nose while speaking, only to make a face, as though the fishy odor that clung to the steel might be far from pleasant.
"Well, we've overhauled the lady; now whatever are we going to do with her?" demanded the tall scout.
"I wonder if she understands English?" remarked Elmer.
"Try her and see," Mark suggested.
The woman had been watching them keenly all this while. Her manner suggested that she might be trying to read her fate more from their actions than any words which they would let fall.
Accordingly, Elmer stepped forward a pace.
"No hurt," he said, in the gentlest tone he could muster; "friends—boys—no soldiers."
"She don't savvy worth a cent, Elmer," said Lil Artha, in disgust.
"And her eyes keep following your movements with the knife, as if she thought you meant to strike her," observed Mark.
Elmer himself saw that this was a fact. Plainly, then, the woman could not understand English, and in her present state of fright she seemed incapable of reading his reassuring gestures. What he meant to be a sign of friendliness she interpreted as a symbol of hostility.
"Seems to me we ought first of all to get her foot free from that nasty tangle," he remarked.
"Sure, and I guess the only way to do it is to cut the plagued old vine," said Lil Artha. "But I guess I hadn't ought to run the thing down, because it served us a mighty good turn just now."
"Step in and cut the vine, Elmer," suggested Mark.
When, however, the young scout master had taken a step or two forward, knife in hand, the woman's fears were once more aroused.
She threw herself forward, struggling violently to release her trapped foot. But the vine proved as strong as a new clothesline, and held tenaciously.
"Good gracious, what a silly goose!" exclaimed Lil Artha, "when all we want to do is to set her free."
"But you see she don't look at it that way. The poor creature thinks we're conspiring to turn the tables on her, just because she threatened us with this knife. Here, hold it, Mark."
Elmer handed over the knife to his chum at a moment when he saw that the woman's eyes were fastened upon him.
Then he held up both his hands as he smiled reassuringly. It was the universal "peace sign" known throughout the world. Hardly a savage tribe in the heart of Darkest Africa but would recognize the meaning it expressed.
This time when he advanced the Italian woman did not struggle again. She watched him. Curiosity was overcoming fear. Perhaps she had even begun to realize that these dreadful soldiers did not present such a savage front after all.
So Elmer dropped down on his knees, at a point where he could come in contact with her imprisoned foot, and the wiry vine that gripped it.
A brief examination convinced him that since she had turned around several times during her violent struggle to break away, the only means of freeing the entrapped foot was to cut the vine.
Of course that meant the knife again, and if he asked Mark to hand it to him, possibly the foolish foreigner would have another fit of terror.
So Elmer commenced to use tact again.
First of all he commenced to work at the vine, the woman watching him eagerly.
"No use, pardner," remarked Lil Artha. "That thing is like steel bands, and the old woman has managed to tie herself up handsomely. Nothing but a knife, and a sharp one, too, will do the business."
"I know it," replied Elmer, quietly. "I'm only pretending to try and get her foot out just to make her understand that we want to help her. Now just watch me, and see how I manage."
Presently, as if despairing of success, he ceased his labor. Then he pointed to the vine, and made several slashes across it with his forefinger, after which he pointed to the knife Mark was holding out, and nodded his head.
The woman was interested.
"Go through it all again; she's beginning to understand," said Mark, himself deeply interested in the success of this deaf and dumb method of communication.
"Well, of all the stupids going, give me one of these same dagoes," grumbled Lil Artha. "Why, you make it plain enough for a Hottentot to grab, Elmer. But I'm beginning to hope she'll get on soon. Try her once more, pardner. You're the boss hand at wig-wagging. Give her the high sign, Elmer."
Deliberately Elmer again pretended to cut the vine with his forefinger, then shook his head and afterward pointed to the knife.
The woman's black eyes followed each movement, and evidently she began to grasp the idea that he did not desire the weapon so as to injure, but to assist her.
"Glory be!" ejaculated Lil Artha, who had been almost holding his breath with suspense while all this pantomime business was going on, "look at that, would you, fellows? A bright thought has managed to get a foothold in her brain. I bet you it needed a sledge hammer to pound it in. Say, she's beginning to smile at you, Elmer. You've won out. She believes you mean all right. Give him the toad-sticker, Mark, and let him get to work."
Elmer knew that his actions would no longer be misconstrued. The Italian woman understood.
So he held out his hand and received the knife from Mark. The woman moved uneasily, but the smile Elmer gave her was surely enough to disarm any lingering suspicion she may have entertained.
Of course it was only a small job now to cut through the obstinate vine at a point where the greatest holding point lay.
"There you are!" remarked Lil Artha, as the knife severed the last strand.
The woman got slowly to her feet. She folded her arms across her bosom with what seemed to be an air of resignation. Yet Elmer knew that all the while those sparkling black eyes were watching him intently.
The woman had guessed that Elmer must be the leader of the three strangers in uniform. Hence she looked to him for orders.
"Well, what're we going to do with this pretty thing, now that we've got it?" remarked Lil Artha.
"I suppose, first of all, we ought to go back to the shack," said Elmer.
"You mean to hold her a prisoner, I take it?" asked Mark, who had the utmost faith in the acting scout master's ability to grasp the situation.
"That's about the only thing open to us," Elmer replied. "Through the woman perhaps we can get in touch with the three men who are holding Nat Scott a prisoner, and bring about his release."
"I don't see how," grumbled Lil Artha. "If you had all that trouble getting her to understand you only meant to cut the old vine, and not her foot off, how in the dickens d'ye expect to get her to know we don't mean to do her bunch any harm?"
"Oh, there may be ways," smiled Elmer.
"But you don't speak Italiano, Elmer; that's dead sure, else you'd have used it right now to tell her you only wanted to cut the vine," Lil Artha went on.
"How about George?" remarked Elmer.
"What! George Robbins?" asked the tall scout.
"Why, yes, you remember he told us his father employs a large number of these foreigners, and unless I'm mistaken I think I remember hearing George say he'd been picking up quite a lot of Italian words."
"That
sounds all to the good then," declared Lil Artha, with enthusiasm. "Bully for George! His knowledge may be the key that's going to unlock this old padlock for us."
"Then let's get back to the shack. Fall in around the woman. That ought to tell her what we want her to do."
Elmer, as he spoke, took up his position alongside the prisoner, while Mark and the long-legged scout clapped their sticks to their right shoulders as though parading arms.
Then Elmer pointed backward in the direction they had just come from.
"Go!" he said, impressively.
Whether the prisoner understood the word, or judged from their actions what was required, Elmer could not say. All he cared for was the fact that when he started off she accompanied him, limping a little as though she might have twisted her ankle somewhat in the violence of her struggles, looking sullen rather than fearful now, and apparently resigned to her fate, whatever that might prove to be.
There was no difficulty about reaching the abandoned shack again. All Elmer had to do was to follow the broad trail they had made when chasing after the fleeing woman.
They found no change when they presently drew up at the hidden retreat. Nor was there any sign of the other scouts, though once Elmer thought he did hear loud and excited voices up on the side of the mountain, as though Matty and his detachment might have found it necessary to leave the lowlands, and were having troubles of their own.
"Well," remarked Lil Artha, as they arrived in front of the shack, "here we are, all to the good, and right side up with care. The question is, what d'ye expect to do with the signorina, now that you've got her?"
"She must be kept a prisoner in the shanty until we can decide on our course, and get George here," replied Elmer, so readily that the others understood how he must have his plan of action fully mapped out in his own mind.
"Let's see you usher her in, then," chuckled the tall scout, just as though he anticipated enjoying a treat when Elmer tried to "shoo" the Italian woman into the place.
But it proved the easiest thing possible. When Elmer took her by the arm and pointed to the open door the woman gave him one look, shook herself free from his grasp, and hastened to vanish within the shack.
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