iera has given
orders to his slaves. The newspapers of this afternoon will inform a
horrified world that you and I, together, murdered my father that we
might flee together with such of his riches as he had actually
gathered together for me to take away. We are murderers, my friend.
Cables and telegraph wires are reporting the news. The daughter of the
Minister of War of the Republic of Brazil was assisted by her lover to
murder her father. She has fled with him. Now--where are we still to
find friends?"
* * * * *
Bell stared, for the fraction of an instant. One thought came to him,
and was checked. The Trade does not exist, anywhere. The Trade would
not help. And murderers are always duly handed over when the
Government of the United States is requested politely to do so by
another nation. Always. And so far as the whole civilized world was
concerned they were murderers. Even the employees of the flying field
who were not subject to The Master would swear to the strictly
accurate story of their escape together.
"It is just scandalous enough and horrible enough," said Bell quietly,
"to be reprinted everywhere as news. You're right. We haven't any
friends. We're up against it. And so I think we'll have to hunt down
and kill The Master. Then we'll be believed. And there are just two of
us, with what weapons we have in our pockets, to attack. How many
thousands of slaves do you suppose The Master has by now?"
And, quite suddenly, he laughed.
CHAPTER VII
The sun was sinking slowly when the plane appeared above the valley.
There was only jungle below. Jungle, and the languid river which now
flowed sluggishly into a wide and shallow pool in which drowned trees
formed a mass of substance neither land nor marsh nor river. The
river now contracted to a narrow space and showed signs of haste, and
even foaming water, and then again flowed placidly onward, sometimes
even a hundred yards in breadth. Shadows of the mountains to the west
were creeping toward the opposite hill-flanks, darkening the thick
foliage and sending flocks of flying things home to their chosen
roosts.
The sound of the plane was a buzzing noise, which grew louder to a
sharp drone as it seemed to increase in size, and became a dull
monotonous roar as it dipped toward the waters of the stream. It
floated downward, very gently, and circled as if regarding a certain
spot critically, and resumed its onward flight. Aga
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