Part 34 (1/2)

Considerably to Elaine's discomfort of mind, he hastened once more down the trail. She was certain the Dyaks would go to the spring before Sidney could got away. However, he brought another pair of jugs, an armful of fuel, and a basket of fruit with the greatest possible expedition.

The boatmen made no movement to come ash.o.r.e as long as the twilight revealed them. The highest notes of their voices floated indistinctly to the terrace, towards which the men were frequently seen to gesture, but even these sounds were finally lost as darkness enwrapped the island.

Despite the fact that four of his water-jugs still remained in the thicket near the spring, Grenville made no more trips for water that evening, since Elaine was obviously distressed by the thought of the risk he might incur.

He was awake all night, maintaining the life of their smoldering fire, and alert for any signs or sounds of movement in the clearing by the trail. In one of the darkest hours before the dawn he heard the familiar wails and moans of the headland cave rise briefly on the wind.

From the anch.o.r.ed s.h.i.+p the cry was returned, as on the former occasion.

After that a droning chant came fitfully up from the darkness of the waters, to die at last in the silence. Later he heard a shout, and then vague accents of speech. But, when daylight arrived, the craft had disappeared.

Elaine had not yet risen. Grenville quietly moved from one extremity of the headland to the other, searching the sea in all directions. He was soon convinced the visitor had not decamped, but had moved the vessel to one or another of the island's hidden inlets, that its movements, as well as those of its crew, should be no longer observed.

One lingering hope, which he had fostered in his breast, that the natives might not prove a bloodthirsty lot of head-hunters after all, he felt he must definitely abandon. This furtive move under cover of the dark was not the sort of maneuver to excite one's trust or confidence.

Elaine was standing in her shelter door when at length he came once more to his place by the top of the trail. She, too, had discovered the absence of the native vessel.

”I think another one came in the night,” she said, when Sidney explained his belief that the boat was in hiding behind the farther walls. ”I am sure I heard another voice.”

Grenville recalled the shout that had followed the chanting and felt that this accounted for Elaine's conviction that more of the Dyaks had arrived.

”We have not been actually seen as yet,” he a.s.sured her. ”Our flag of distress is not a positive sign of anyone's presence on the island. We shall soon determine by their movements whether these chaps intend to be friendly or not.”

”Would they hide if they meant to be friendly?”

”It isn't a friendly sign---- You see, I'm still of opinion the island's wail is a sound they rather dread. Have you noticed it's rapidly failing?”

”I've been ever so glad it seems so short and growing fainter.”

”Yes,” he drawled. ”I'm afraid it will soon cease altogether, when our friends may buck up their courage and--show us their state of mind.”

”What can we do in the meantime?”

”Sit tight and watch for developments.”

But all that day there was never so much as a sound or a sign of the crew they had seen arrive. At one time, just before noon, Grenville fancied some movement occurred in the rocks that crowned the second hill. But he detected no further indication that someone might have scaled the cliff to spy on himself and Elaine.

He had never in his island rambles discovered a place by which that hill could be surmounted. That easy access might be obtained on the seaward side he readily understood. He fretted under the long suspense--the uncertainty brooding over the island. He much preferred that the visitors exhibit a downright hostile intent than to feel that beneath the sinister calm of thicket and jungle might lurk insidious death.

He felt that Elaine and himself would lack for nothing, except fresh meat, for at least a couple of days, yet he knew that even their fruit supply was wholly inadequate for a siege, should the new arrivals make up their minds to starve them on the terrace. Rather than weakly submit to any such abominable tactics, he was fully determined to bring about an attack. But how was an open question.

When once again the night drew on the man was impatient and weary. He had taken no rest after all his long previous day of toil, yet to sleep and invite disaster up the trail was quite impossible.

”We shall have to divide the night,” said Elaine, with her customary practical courage. ”We have simply got to be sensible to preserve our strength in case we have to fight.”

Grenville consented to give her the watch till midnight. The island's wail in the late afternoon had seemed no fainter than that of the previous day. He was quite convinced there would be no night attack.

Yet he stretched a cord across the trail that must pull at his arm and so give an alarm should anyone enter at his gate.

Doubtless in this confidence he fell asleep with more than usual promptness. He was far more weary than he knew, and Nature demanded her dues.