"Struck it rich, hey?" chuckled the skipper, amused out of his scowling disgust. "Find any gold?"

"Gold color, Barry, and they bite like gold-bugs!" chirped Little, irrepressible even in his discomfort; for red ants bite hard and deep.

"How about you?" he shouted over his shoulder, as he floundered into the water to rid himself of his tiny tormentors.

"I believe the man's right," returned Barry. "I never saw gold washing done, but if there's any gold in this river it's a long way from here.

It don't _look_ like gold sand to me."

Little emerged from his bath and sluiced out his clothes. While dressing, he began to see something more than a temporary fault in the search for Houten's gold. These few men from the post were undoubtedly loyal to his employer and Barry's; but why they should have been sent to this place to make a palpable bluff at gold mining, even to building huts and carrying up washing gear and food, beat him as a problem. And Barry was no clearer on the matter.

"I believe I begin to see why Leyden showed such c.o.c.ksureness," muttered Barry, taking his companion's arm and returning to the huts. He shouted to the man in the river to come out and gave orders for the others to be released; then, with a quiet hint to his own crew to keep an un.o.btrusive watch over the liberated men, he and Little walked upstream to a piece of high ground, and there they sat down to discuss the situation where they had under their eyes every yard of country within a five-mile radius.

Upstream the river speedily dwindled to a creek, and its headwaters were apparently fed out of a maze of low jungle land that looked feverish and uninviting. Beyond the stream, the land rolled away for a mile in smoothly alternating downs and hills; on the near side, two miles of open country lay spread before them, fringed at that distance by a dark and luxuriant forest of stout trees. In the direction from which they had come, the river ran into the narrow pa.s.s, and disappeared from view; but the nature of the country beyond was well known to them by having pa.s.sed through most of it by bright moonlight.

"I don't mind being fooled like this, but what gets me is Vandersee's att.i.tude again," remarked Barry, with his eyes roving keenly over the stretch of land that terminated in the forest.

"That's what I can't understand," agreed Little. "He knows so much that he must know about this fake. If he does, what could be his object in letting us come up here?"

"It beats me, Little," the skipper grunted. His gaze had fixed upon a point in the forest fringe, and for a moment he said no more; then he said with sudden interest:

"You've got good eyes; what d' ye make of that?" and pointed.

Out from the forest trees a party of people had emerged, and they seemed to be lined up in some sort of definite order. Little stared awhile, then replied:

"In uniform, ain't they? Sailors or soldiers, hey?"

"Look like naval seamen to me--natives too--wonder if the Dutch Navy has native crews out here."

"There's at least one white man, Barry. Two--no, three--coming over here, too. Here, let's get back to the boat. Perhaps we'll find out something about this mix-up."

"Bright boy," rejoined the skipper, rising. "Get ready to make the talk.

You speak Dutch, don't you?"

"Enough to sell typewriters," grinned the ex-salesman. "I can say gold, and point, anyhow."

Back to the boat they hurried, and Barry first made his men stow their arms out of sight. Armed expeditions were not in favor with the authorities. The action did not escape the gold washers, and they drew together in a huddle, chattering among themselves. They had no arms visible, and the skipper took little heed to them; his entire faculties were working on the problem that faced him. Little, too, stood beside him, waiting for the strangers to come in sight above the hummocks that rose between river and forest. It was one of the gold seekers who startled them into swift life.

"Oh, sar! Dat man he run! He queer fella, sar; no good, dat man!"

Barry swung around, followed the direction of the speaker's outflung arm, and saw a brown figure running like a deer towards the down-river gorge. He had run the minute Barry disarmed his men.

"Fire after him!" he shouted, then remembered that his men had no guns at hand now. He whipped out his own pistol and fired. But the distance was too great for such a short-barrelled weapon, and the fugitive ran on, bounding like a rubber ball over sand and gra.s.ses until he vanished from sight over the river bank.

"After him and bring him back!" cried Barry, shoving two of his own men in that direction. The seamen followed with true sea clumsiness in running; but as they ran they gained speed, and they were not two hundred yards behind the chase when they too reached the river and vanished.

"Now what's up, I wonder," muttered Little, staring from his skipper to the open-mouthed gold washers, who expressed alarm beyond suspicion of connivance. "Here, you!" he demanded of the man who had been spokesman; "what fashion that man, hey?"

"He no man for us, sar," chattered the shivering native. "He bring de last lot of rice for us. Me no know him before, sar. He new man, I t'ink."

"New man?" echoed Barry, still more at a loss. His face had darkened, and the scowl that sat on his forehead reminded Little of a certain scene on a hotel veranda in Surabaya. Further speech or thought was cut short then by a cry from one of the _Barang's_ crew, and topping the last rise of the river bank marched three white men in the uniform of naval officers, followed by twelve stout natives in seamen's rig. They advanced towards the waiting men of the _Barang_, lined up at a sharp "Halt!" and the white men came forward alone. They were keen-eyed men, tanned and capable, yet they impressed Barry as contrasting very poorly with the naval officers he had known. The men were poorer yet; they were utterly slovenly in their address, holding their rifles at as many different positions as there were men,--and even Little noticed that the arms were not all from the same factory. But the strangers were before them, and now one of them spoke curtly:

"Your business here?" addressing Barry in English.

"What is yours?" retorted the skipper as curtly.

"Answer me!" snapped the officer. "I am seeking just such a party as yours."

"What if I don't choose to tell you?"

"In that case--" the man shrugged and smiled evilly. "Never mind, my friend. I, as an officer of the Dutch Navy, demand your business here."

"Oh, since you speak officially, I am seeking gold for my employer on land that your Government has leased to him," Barry replied. The result was surprising.

"Gold!" The officer croaked the word as if derision were choking him. He stared from Barry to Little and then at his companions, and they, too, broke into derisive grins that sent Barry's anger mounting.

"Gold? A pretty tale, my friend. It is interesting to know that gold is to be found here. I must look into your boat and see what instruments you use to seek gold where no gold is. Search that boat!" he snapped, and another white went off with two men to the river bank. In a few minutes they were back, and they bore all the rifles lately stowed therein.

"So!" sneered the leader. "All one needs to secure gold in Celebes is a rifle--yes--" he swiftly counted heads--"a rifle to each man. Stop!" he cried, as Little's hand slipped to his pocket. "You are my prisoners."

His own pistol was presented at Barry, and beside him another man held an unwavering muzzle at Little. He gave some rapid commands in the native tongue, and two men stepped out and securely tied the hands of Barry and his friend. Another man stepped into the biggest hut, emerged, and searched the rest in order. When he at last rejoined his fellows, he carried some tins in his hand, and at sight of them a look of satisfied cunning pa.s.sed between the Dutch officers.

"Very good!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the leader, and a cruel expression lurked in his eyes. He conversed in whispers for a moment with his mates, then nodded his head. "Easy to pick sheep from wolves here," he remarked, looking swiftly over the native seamen and the gold washers. "These men are all we want," and he indicated Barry and Little and the _Barang's_ party.

A shuffling formation took place, and half of the Dutch sailors ranged up beside the prisoners; the other half remained and herded the gold washers together. Barry tried to look around, but a pistol at his head warned him not to try it again, and out of a corner of his eye he caught the grimace on Little's face which told of a similar disappointment.

"Forward--march!" shouted the officer, and the party struck off towards the forest. Behind them the sound of axes told of a dismantled boat; when that sound ceased, another more ominous sound struck dismay into the captives. It was the sound of a fusillade of musketry, and echoing the reports came the shrill, entreating cries of the unfortunate gold washers. Shot after shot rang out, and cry after cry, until the cries ceased and only a few scattering reports indicated that perhaps one poor wretch had sought safety in the river only to afford sport for his a.s.sa.s.sins.

"You infernal murderers!" gritted Barry and flashed about, all bound as he was, to rush at the leader.

"Right about face!" the fellow growled, and a long knife in his hand p.r.i.c.ked deeply into Barry's upper arm. "March, you dirty smugglers!" he growled again, and the column moved on.

"Smugglers!" Little echoed, ignoring his own guardian and swinging around at the taunt. "Look here, old chap, if that's your idea, you're dead wrong. We're no smugglers--"

"March, I said!" came the order, and Little also subsided, perforce at the persuasion of cold steel.

Across the open they trailed in a long line, the rear brought up by the party hurrying up from the river. They entered the forest and struck into a trackless jungle, where Barry and Little suffered the torments of d.a.m.nation from insects and swinging creepers that stung, neither of which could they avoid with their hands bound. As for their men, of such small importance did their captors think them that they were permitted to march unfettered, simply under the eyes of their guards.

As the forest grew deeper and darker, the party straggled out more and more, until Barry began again to peer about him for an opening of escape. It seemed hopeless. At his side, and at Little's side, stalked one of the white officers, no matter how dense the thicket they pa.s.sed; if it were too thick for two abreast, the officer would shove his captive ahead of himself to break the way, and until the breach was clear, a knife-point pressed sharply into the back effectively prevented a dash. But the seamen were not in such a fix. Little, in bursting through a cane brake, cringing with the pain of a sharp stab between his shoulders, found himself momentarily alongside one of the sailors of his own ship; and, daring even further visitation of the knife, he let fly the canes with a rattling crash into his guard's face and whispered fiercely to the seaman:

"Run! Tell Mr. Rolfe!"

His guard burst through, swearing vilely, and rewarded the temerarious typewriter expert with a twisting prod that kept him gasping for the rest of the journey, now nearing its end. But Little was satisfied. When at length they broke through a mat of bush and came out into an open glade dotted with great, bare, brown humps, his pained eyes twinkled at Barry with some of his old cheery spirit and, speechless though they were under coercion, imparted hope to the skipper.

They were given little time to wonder what their fate was to be.

Presuming they had been carried to this place for a midday halt, and that their journey would soon be resumed, Barry and Little flung themselves down to rest and maintained a careless att.i.tude in the face of their captors. But this att.i.tude was swiftly dispelled for, idly staring at the sailors, barely wondering at what they saw, they suddenly awoke to a fear that turned them cold.

"Look!" muttered Barry hoa.r.s.ely. Little needed no such reminder.