CHAPTER XVI.
TRYING TO ESCAPE.
"Well, here's another pickle. I wonder how long they are going to keep us here?"
It was Dan who spoke. He sat on the damp ground, his back against the sticks of a bamboo hut, into which the Kanakas had thrust us after reaching their village. Around the outside of the hut walked a tall Kanaka armed with a club and, I presume, ready to hit at any head that might show itself.
We had been prisoners in the hut for three hours. During that time nobody had come to interview us, all apparently being busy in putting out what was left of the fire. A constant murmur of voices, with an occasional cry of distress, was all that reached our ears.
"That fire has undoubtedly put the natives in a bad humor," said Oliver. "I'm afraid it will go hard with us."
"Do you really think they will take the law in their own hands?" I asked. "Won't they have to turn us over to some sort of authority?"
"I guess they are their own authority, Mark—away out here in the Iao valley. If they put us out of the way, who would be the wiser for it?"
I could not help but shiver at the words. "If it comes to the pinch, I'll fight as hard as I can," I said firmly.
"We'll all do that," said Dan. "Here comes somebody now!"
As he concluded, the threshold of the hut was darkened and Buowa entered, followed by a dried-up old man, a former head chief of the settlement.
So far we had been in the dark, but now a smoky oil lamp was lit, and the two natives squatted on the floor before us. For a few seconds neither spoke.
"Why you burn down village?" demanded Buowa at last. "Want to steal?"
"We didn't burn your village—we weren't near it," answered Oliver.
"American boy tell big lie. American boy run from village—we see um."
"We ran away because we knew you would think we set the place on fire," I put in. "We are sorry now that we started to run at all."
"We were just coming up when you saw us," added Dan.
"Where you come from?"
"We came from Rulukoa."
"Rulukoa? What American boys do at dat place?"
"We were looking for a native named Joe Koloa."
"Joe Koloa!" the cry came from the old chief and his face grew full of hate. "Joe Koloa!" He turned to Buowa, and the two conversed rapidly in their own tongue.
"American boys know Joe Koloa?" asked Buowa presently, and we could see that he was now filled with curiosity.
"No, we don't know him. But we have heard of him and would like to meet him," answered Oliver.
"Joe Koloa a bad man—he cast charm over you," growled Buowa. "Plenty bad people at Rulukoa, too."
"Well, we didn't see Joe Koloa," I put in. "So then we started back for Wailuku, but we missed the road and got lost out here. Then we saw the fire, and were going to help you to put it out, but got scared and ran away; and that's the plain truth of the story."
Buowa listened intently, then translated my words to his chief. The little, old Kanaka scowled worse than ever.
"We think American boys tell big lie," growled the native strong man. "Americans bad people."
"What makes you think that?" asked Dan.
"Americans take our beloved land from our queen—they big robbers."
"We annexed the islands because your people wanted them annexed," I put in warmly.
"No want annexed, as you call him. Islands belong to de Kanakas—nobody else. Some day we fight the Americans, and the English, and the Germans, and drive um all away," muttered Buowa savagely. "Den our beautiful queen come back."
So speaking, the native strong man leaped to his feet and the old chief did the same. They were about to leave the hut when Oliver stopped them.
"Hold on! What do you propose to do with us?"
"We shall see dat in de morning," answered Buowa.
"Are not the American authorities in control here?"
At this Buowa shook his head. "We Kanakas, we rule our own people."
"If you don't let us go I'll make a complaint to President Dole," put in Dan, just to see what effect his words might have.
He had scarcely spoken when Buowa hit hm on the nose with the flat of his hand, hurling him on his back. "No care for Dole—he no right here," said the strong Kanaka, and then he and the old chief left us, taking their lamp with them.
Dan picked himself up, filled with a rage that was utterly useless. "Oh, if only my hands were free, I'd pitch into him; see if I would not!" he cried.
"You'd get the worst of it," I returned. "He's as strong as an ox."
"My nose feels all swelled up. And my neck is swelled too—where that spider bit me."
"I don't think the spider-bite will amount to anything, Dan; my hand is all right."
"We are in a worse stew than when we disturbed the Fire-worshipers," was Oliver's comment. "I must say I don't know what to do. I suppose they intend to keep us here for the balance of the night."
"They are evidently down on all Americans, Oliver," I said. "The very best thing we can do is to make our escape—if we can manage it."
"Oh, I agree there, Mark. The question is, can we do it?"
"We can try."
"Some natives are outside on the watch. If we run for it they will be sure to give the alarm."
"We must escape in secret."
"It's easy enough to talk. How are you going to do it?" asked Dan.
"We'll have to make an examination of our surroundings before I can answer that question," I replied.
"I'm willing to run almost any risk for the sake of getting away," resumed Dan. "I wonder if we can't bribe that chap who is walking up and down in front of the door."
"Don't try it, Dan. For if you do, and you fail, he will watch us more closely than ever.
"Then what's to do?"
"As I just said, we'll examine the situation first."
Our hands were still bound behind us, for so far we had not deemed it best to get rid of the bonds. But now each of us set to work on one of the others, and soon we were free.
It was pitch-dark inside the hut, but outside the stars were shining through a mass of fleeting clouds. With caution I crawled to the doorway and gazed forth.
The Kanaka sentinel trudged slowly up and down, a heavy club in his hand, ready, as I mentioned before, to strike down the first person who showed himself.
"We can't go that way, that's sure," I whispered. "Let us try to get a look out of the rear, anyhow."
I walked to the back of the hut, which was not over twelve feet square, and soon found a small slit to which I applied my eyes. A tree and a clearing met my view, backed up by more trees and heavy underbrush.
"Well?" queried Dan. "Any hope?"
"There is another native sitting on a log," I whispered.
"Then we are booked to stay."
"It looks so—unless" I glanced up at the bamboo roof of the prison. "Perhaps we can do it," I mused.
"Do what?"
"Climb through that hole in the roof and into the tree back of this hut."
"And then what? If we get down the tree that native will spy us."
"There won't be any need to get down the tree."
"Are you going to stay up there?"
"No. There is another tree back of the first, one that sets in the brush. If we can swing from the first tree to the second"
"Mark has solved the problem!" whispered Oliver. "Let us try the roof by all means."
"Don't make any noise, or the game will be up," I continued, glancing toward the doorway, to behold the front guard still some distance away.
In the center of the hut was a pole which helped to support the roof. On this pole had been left several short branch points, to be used, I presume, for hooks upon which garments might be hung. Climbing the pole, I braced my feet on the projections, and shoved firmly upon the thatch overhead. As I had supposed the palm leaves were not bound down very tightly, and soon I had made an opening large enough to admit of the passage of my body.
With caution I stuck out my head and gazed around. I could see the space in front of the hut and the woods behind it, but the guards were out of sight below the edge. Looking up, I saw that a tree branch was within easy reach. I mounted a little higher, caught the branch, and with a gentle swish swung myself to a place of safety.