But Momulla was even more curious than he was superstitious, and
so he quelled his natural desire to flee from the supernatural.
Motioning his companions to follow his example, he dropped to his
hands and knees, crawling forward stealthily and with quakings of
heart through the jungle in the direction from which came the voices
of the unseen speakers.
Presently, at the edge of a little clearing, he halted, and there he
breathed a deep sigh of relief, for plainly before him he saw two
flesh-and-blood men sitting upon a fallen log and talking earnestly
together.
One was Schneider, mate of the Kincaid, and the other was a seaman
named Schmidt.
"I think we can do it, Schmidt," Schneider was saying. "A good
canoe wouldn't be hard to build, and three of us could paddle it to
the mainland in a day if the wind was right and the sea reasonably
calm. There ain't no use waiting for the men to build a big enough
boat to take the whole party, for they're sore now and sick of
working like slaves all day long. It ain't none of our business
anyway to save the Englishman. Let him look out for himself,
says I." He paused for a moment, and then eyeing the other to note
the effect of his next words, he continued, "But we might take the
woman. It would be a shame to leave a nice-lookin' piece like she
is in such a Gott-forsaken hole as this here island.
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