"Yes; and everybody else!"

When John turned, he waved his hand, the audience relaxed its tension, and witnessed the death (?) of the three men, an act performed by the White Chief without having touched them. The Chief slowly walked forward, and Uraso led him to the platform, while John pointed to the mute victims.

John motioned to Uraso to raise the first man by lifting his feet while he grasped the shoulders, and when the body was lifted up it was perfectly rigid. The same exhibition was performed with the two others.

That they were dead, was apparent to the Chief and the people.

The people surged to and fro. John was a Korino now, in the eyes of the people. When the people pressed forward John spoke to Uraso, and he turned to the people.

"The White Chief says that there will be no more sacrifices, because the Great Spirit wills it otherwise. The Korinos must be brought from the caves--"

Uraso could get no further. The people were aroused. Their voices could be heard uttering threats against the witch doctors.

John saw that they were determined to wreak vengeance upon them, but he counseled them to be wise and obey their Chief, and that the Korinos would acknowledge their own error.

The wives and children of the three guards were present, as they were compelled to be, and, as may well be imagined, their grief was terrible to behold.

Uraso again spoke to the people, and said: "The White Chief intends to show that the Great Spirit does not wish sacrifices, and will give back the guards to their families."

When he ceased speaking John stooped forward, and waved his hands three times, the motion being formed by throwing his hands forward, palms downward, and then slowly raising them up, and with an upward and an outward swing, bringing them down again.

Then he advanced forward a few feet and held out his arms horizontally, with the palms uppermost, and speaking a few words, the arms were impressively raised. As he did so the three men slightly turned, and then almost simultaneously raised themselves to a sitting posture, and glanced about wildly.

The consternation on the part of the natives at this sight was beyond all description. They were awe stricken, and dumbfounded. Not the slightest sound could be heard, as the men arose to their feet.

The only ones who were joyously affected were the wives of the men who, at the words of Uraso, sprang forward and were about to ascend the rock, but at the command of John they leaped from the table, and the children gathered about them.

The Chief did not utter a word of protest. He remained there utterly speechless. When John asked him what was the next thing to be done to carry out the rites, he remained standing for some time without answering.

When he had gathered together his faculties he turned to the people and said: "The Great White Chief has shown his power, and proven to us that our Korinos have lied to us. They must be destroyed. Let the people return to the village, and proceed with the feast. We shall be guided by the White Chief."

This was, indeed, the effect that John wished to produce, but he did not also antic.i.p.ate that the Chief would insist upon the destruction of the Korinos.

The feast that afternoon was a repet.i.tion on a larger scale, of the feast of the day before. Indeed, this was now the third day of feasting.

"I don't know whether I can eat any more for a few days," said Harry, as they neared the village, and saw the preparations going on.

George laughed, as he responded: "We shall have to go through with this thing, whatever the cost. Have you forgotten that they believe in _three_ for everything? Didn't John make three pa.s.ses to kill them; and three more to bring them to life again? We have had two feasts, and must now have one more. I don't know what the result will be if I eat half as much even, as I did yesterday."

John laughed heartily, as he added: "That is correct, too, about the feasts. Notice from this time on that about everything they do will be measured by threes."

As the boys afterwards remarked, they never knew how they got through the feast that day, but they tried to imitate John in partaking of the good things in moderation.

It was late in the night when the natives ceased the dancing, which was the signal for the end of the festival, although in many respects it was entirely different from the previous ceremonies, as Uraso and Muro learned in talking with the natives.

The next day was ushered in with a rainstorm, the first that was experienced on the island, and there was no opportunity to make any excursions. It had been John's intention to settle the fate of the Korinos, as he felt that this was a matter that should have his attention before they left on the further explorations of the island.

Since it was impossible to venture out far from the village, John spent the most of the day attending to the wounded and the sick, although they had not been neglected in the meantime, not even during the ceremonies of the past three days.

The first visit was made to the quarters of the white man who was found in the stockade when they took possession of the village. It was evident from the greeting that he and John had had several conversations previous to this visit, but of this the latter did not advise the boys.

When they came into the room he was sitting up, and he greeted John and the boys. He could speak, but it was with a weak voice, and the boys ranged themselves on one side while John seated himself on the other.

"You told me yesterday," began John, "that when you were shipwrecked you were cast ash.o.r.e on another island. How many companions had you?"

"Three," he answered. "One of them was a large man, with brown hair and piercing eyes, who was formerly an officer in the navy, and was at that time engaged in an exploring capacity, and on his way to Australia."

"Did he walk with a limp?" asked John.

The old man, as well as the boys, looked at John in surprise. He quickly answered: "Yes; did you know him?"

"No," he replied; "but we found him less than a month ago."

The old man leaned forward in his eagerness. "Where is he?" he asked.

"He is dead," answered John, gravely.

"Dead!" he exclaimed. "Dead! and do you know his name?"

"No, but we found his remains, together with the boat to which he had been tied, on the sh.o.r.e of an island south of this."

"Then it is true, after all!" he muttered.

"Did you know about it?" asked John, who was the interested one now.

"No, this is sad news to me. His name was Clifford,--Ralph S. Clifford, and when he and Walter undertook,--"

The boys were all impatience now, as George cried out: "Walter! did you know Walter?"

"Yes; he was my companion for a time. He and I were making explorations on the island on which we were wrecked, and when the two undertook to go on a search, to ascertain what the island was like, I was too ill to go with them. Walter returned, and told me of meeting with a band of savages on the western side of the mountain, and of the capture of Clifford by the natives."

"Did you know a man by the name of Wright?"

"No, I never heard of any one by that name in this section of the globe."

"Do you know what became of Walter?"

"I was about to say, that we went north along the sh.o.r.e, and camped near the beach, and there found a boat, rather crudely made, with which we proposed sailing around the island. Before we could complete our arrangements, Walter disappeared."

"Did he take the boat with him?"

"No; the boat and all his effects were still with me. I was still very ill, and I concluded to remain there until my strength returned, but four days afterwards, when I was able to move about, I found that the boat had disappeared."

The strain of the conversation appeared to affect him, and the three visitors stated they would call on him later for further information.

When the boys returned to their huts, with John, the latter was quiet and very much reserved. The boys were so much interested in the story of the old man, that they could not wait until they were seated before they began to question him.

"What do you think of his story?" asked Harry.

John did not answer promptly, as was his habit. Instead, he reflected for some time, and at last said slowly: "The story may be true. Clifford was, in my opinion, tied to the boat and set adrift, and his death was due to that, unquestionably."