Part 3 (2/2)
”And to think she, too, went through it all--six weeks of it!”
”That's it!” enthused Blake. ”She's the truest, grittiest little girl the sun ever had the good luck to s.h.i.+ne on! If she thinks now I can't realize--that I'm not going to do the square thing by her! I've been thinking it all over, Jimmy. I've got it all mapped out what I'm going to do. Wait, though!”
He sprang ahead and pulled at the th.o.r.n.y contrivance that stopped the opening in the baobab trunk. It was balanced midway up, on a crossbar.
Almost at a touch, the lower part swung up and outward and the upper half down and inward. He stepped in under it, hesitated a moment, and went on into the hollow, with an exclamation of relief: ”No, 't isn't her room any more, thank G.o.d!”
Lord James stared. Well as he knew the sterling qualities of his friend, he had never suspected him of such delicacy. He gazed curiously around at the unshapely but flawless sand-glazed earthenware set on a bamboo rack beside the open stone fireplace, at the rough-woven but strong baskets piled together near the foot of the baobab, at the pouch of antelope skin, the gra.s.s sombreros, the bamboo spits and forks and spoons--all the many useful utensils that told of the ingenuity and resourcefulness of his friend.
But, most of all, he was interested in the weighty hardwood club leaning against the tree trunk and the great bamboo bow hanging above in a skin sheath beside a quiver full of long feather-tipped arrows. He was balancing the club when Blake came out of the tree-cave, carrying a young cocoanut in one hand, and in the other a small pot seemingly full of dried mud. Lord James replaced the club, and waved his hand around at the camp.
”'Pon my word, Tom,” he commented, ”you've out-Crusoed old Robinson!”
”Sure!” agreed Blake. ”He had a whole s.h.i.+pful of stuff as a starter, while we didn't have anything except my magnifying gla.s.s and Win's penknife and keys.”
He pulled out a curious sheath-knife made of a narrow ribbon of steel set in a bone back. ”How's that for a blade? Big flat British keys--good steel. I welded 'em together, end to end.”
”Gad! the pater's private keys!” gasped Lord James. ”You don't tell me the rascal was imbecile enough to keep those keys in his pocket?--certain means of identification if he'd been searched!”
”What!” shouted Blake. ”Then the duke he cleaned out was your dad.
_Whew!_”
He whirled the mud-stoppered jug overhead and dashed it down at his feet. From amidst the shattered fragments he caught up a dirty cloth that was quilted across in small squares. He held it out to Lord James.
”There you are, Jimmy--my compliments and more or less of your family heirlooms.”
”My word!” murmured the earl, catching eagerly at the cloth. ”You got the loot from him? That's like you, Tom!”
”Look out!” cautioned Blake. ”I opened one square to see what it was he had hidden. You'll find he hadn't been too daffy to melt the settings--keys or no keys. Say, but it's luck to learn they're yours!
Hope they're all there.”
”All the good ones will be. He couldn't have sold or p.a.w.ned any of the best stones after we cabled. Gad! won't the pater be tickled! Ah!”
From the open square of which Blake had spoken, his lords.h.i.+p drew out a resplendent ruby. ”Centre stone of Lady Anne's brooch!”
He ran his immaculate finger-tips over the many squares in the cloth.
”A stone in every one--must be all of the really valuable loot! The settings were out of date--small value. How'd you get it from him, Tom?”
Blake hesitated, and answered in a low tone: ”He got hurt the night of the second cyclone. But he wasn't responsible--poor devil! He must have been dotty all along. It didn't show much before--but I felt uneasy.
That's why I built that thorn door--so she could bar herself in.”
Lord James stared in horrified surprise. ”You really do not mean--?”
”Yes--and it almost happened! G.o.d!” Again Blake clenched his teeth and the cold sweat burst out on his forehead.
”My word! That's worse than the snake!” murmured Lord James.
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