"
The trail bent to the right as though the runaways had changed their mind
and headed for the Balesuna. But the trail still continued to bend to
the right till it promised to make a loop, and the point of intersection
seemed to be the edge of the plantation where the horses had been left.
Crossing one of the quiet jungle spaces, where naught moved but a
velvety, twelve-inch butterfly, they heard the sound of shots.
"Eight," Joan counted. "It was only one gun. It must be Papehara."
They hurried on, but when they reached the spot they were in doubt. The
two horses stood quietly tethered, and Papehara, squatted on his hams,
was having a peaceful smoke. Advancing toward him, Sheldon tripped on a
body that lay in the grass, and as he saved himself from falling his eyes
lighted on a second. Joan recognized this one. It was Cosse, one of
Gogoomy's tribesmen, the one who had promised to catch at sunset the pig
that was to have baited the hook for Satan.
"No luck, Missie," was Papehara's greeting, accompanied by a disconsolate
shake of the head. "Catch only two boy. I have good shot at Gogoomy,
only I miss."
"But you killed them," Joan chided. "You must catch them alive."
The Tahitian smiled.
"How?" he queried. "I am have a smoke.
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