Part 2 (2/2)

In a great pit, filled with glowing coals, were the carca.s.ses of mountain goats, antelopes and wild boars. Small birds were roasting on skewers held by women of the tribe, while girls came forward with woven trays heaped high with tropical fruits such as d.i.c.k had eaten among the Taharans.

There were melons, dates, pomegranates and many others that he did not know by name, also gourds full of a delicious drink made from honey and wild grapes.

”Oh boy! This is the life!” exclaimed Dan. ”Hey sister, bring over that basket of figs! Look at this, d.i.c.k! Ripe figs, purple and white figs! They're sweet as sugar.”

d.i.c.k smiled and tasted the fruit but Dan insisted on keeping a basket beside him while the guests and Wabiti sat on the gra.s.s and the feast began.

Dan Carter, who enjoyed his meals and never pa.s.sed up anything, was the hero of the hour. The savages believed in doing everything thoroughly: if they fought, they fought to kill and when they ate, they stuffed to bursting.

d.i.c.k Oakwood, with his habit of moderate eating, would have made a poor impression but for the exploits of Dan, who upheld the honor of both by his attacks upon the food.

As Dan picked a bone, he threw it behind him, over his shoulder and instantly a child of the tribe would s.n.a.t.c.h it as a prize.

The Gorols were in high spirits. They foresaw happy days ahead, days of hunting and feasting with no more fear of war with the Taharans to disturb their sleep.

”We are all friends and brothers!” said Wabiti, rising with a gourd full of the honey drink.

”Friends and brothers,” echoed d.i.c.k.

Wabiti chuckled sleepily, sat down abruptly and the next moment his head fell forward and he began snoring like a buzz saw.

d.i.c.k was not displeased. He looked forward to many happy years, studying these simple people, left over from the Old Stone Age, and watching them develop as he taught them the arts of peace.

After the Gorols had eaten all their skins could hold, they began to drop off to sleep and d.i.c.k called Raal to him.

”Now is a good time for us to explore the country undisturbed,” he said. ”You and I will look over the Black Boiling Spring that I saw one terrible night. And I would enter the cave of the Great Gorol, where we stole the sacred black image.”

”I hear. I obey!”

Raal ordered one of the Gorols to bring a bundle of torches and told Kurt and Kurul to stay where they were and look after Dan, who was stretched out in a happy doze.

But as d.i.c.k rose to go, Dan started after him. ”I wasn't sleeping,” he cried. ”I just closed my eyes to think! I'm going along.”

”What's the matter?”

”Nothing. I'd just feel better to go with you.”

”You're not afraid, are you?” laughed d.i.c.k. ”The Gorols are all friendly.”

”Of course not. But I was just thinking, suppose that old witch-doctor, Cimbula, happened to smell the cooking and crash the party. He might persuade those fellows to throw me into the Boiling Spring after all.”

”Well, come along, if you're able to walk,” answered d.i.c.k.

They followed the winding trail to the hot sulphur spring that still sent its suffocating fumes from the black pit and bubbled menacingly as the boys looked down.

”Jiminy crickets! I'll never forget how they wanted to chuck me in there,” exclaimed Dan. ”Walk a little faster!”

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