The Rope of Gold

ad fallen asleep in the middle of the night confident that he would find his good America

nse of responsibility beyond his years. He awakened Pompee and Curlie

was hungry. Besides, being something of a soldier of fortune, who had bee

to light the fire. "Pompee won't be any good without his

ssava bread, coffee and mangoes, Dorn struck away acros

frank, free and kindly American boy, Johnny Thompson. He kn

re, peering here, there, everywhere he went. Always hoping to catch sight of Johnny's s

ompee. They, too, were searching. Curlie

tadel," he said to Dorn, "we'll have to take to t

he French boy's to

nd this mossy old pile of stone. Remember that native who too

es

ite all their drumming, dancing and singing. I've seen natives of othe

. "Never meant to at all. Didn't even know he was there. But look! A little flash of red light, a li

could walk from one end of this island to the other and take you wit

sands of homes righ

away. People can. You might see th

days among these ruins. Fear had been upon him then and a great dread, a dread of the spirits of those who had lived there in the past. Yet a boy's consuming

pee had eyes only for the new, the unfamiliar. In tim

knees to shade his aged eyes a

lips. Having moved a little to one side, he had allowed a glimmer of light to tou

f silence, then

hnn

it could not have been

ened. N

e louder this tim

w. His voice sounded out like the roar of a great beast i

no a

fear that had gripped him here as a boy. His voice trembled, his w

Dorn!

there came an

ball slowly sinking toward the sea. As he sat there it seemed to him that the sun of hope for a little val

ould not have found a richer valley. And yet, even then those who labored there

ca had come to the aid of little Haiti. Valleys were blossoming as of old. Health was return

t money for all. Some must wait. And now," his throat tightened. "Johnny Thomps

t was a strange call, he thought. These Haitians express so m

ng down from his seat, high above the mountain

ou found him?" he c

. He merely stood and

did he see that he was pointing at

that man-made cavern but could see nothing. The sun h

exclamation. What he saw was a khaki handkerchief. The ownership of that bit of cloth was unmi

low, tense tone. "He has bee

ee n

own ther

ok his hea

can h

sun is gone. Night comes swiftly. Caught on the top of this

"It is only the living ones. But

* *

Johnny? Wh

him, who earlier in the night had looked in upon Curlie Carson at his work, might be a villain. What of it? If he had cared to

told himself. "A little curious, that's all.

, all unbeknown to him, his handkerchief fluttered from his pocket and dropped to the floor, there to remain as mute evid

These men were armed only with steel pointed spears and machetes, a thing Johnny marveled at. In the part of

quiver of arrows. He had taken them with him on his l

nd and the quiver, caught on a jagged bit of roc

they now?"

ere th

nterrupted in this procedure, but as his right hand gripped the b

uddenly cold. "So that's that," he thought

the quiver started away, over a dim trail

here he was. Then a hand pus

three. I am one. It is night. I am unarm

ouldn't have brought him," he told hims

eople, of the old Professor and

" he told himself as he f

of the fortress, lost him completely in a maze of rooms and passageways to at last emerge upon the top of a

ess," Johnny told himself. "Shouldn't wonder

e asked himself, as the leader mo

ly Johnny and his guards had been expected. He noted with a

behind him. Then, slowly, the procession moved forward si

go with us." They had said nothing. And yet, there was a subtle something about their

m I going at all?" Since he could find no answer to these questions, he gripped his st

t mahogany tree. He was far up the mountain side. Greenish-gray moss hu

k. When darkness came they would travel again. Where would they go? What was the end of the trail? To these questions

ess," he grumb