After a good warm bath and a shower which helped the Buddies no end, they donned robes and admitted “Sawbones,” a kindly old soldier whose real name was Manwell. He lost no time in preliminaries but in one swift, all-including glance, noted the ridges and welts left by the ropes that had bound the upper part of the strong young bodies for hours, the feet swollen from the long tramp, and the unmistakable dark rings under their eyes which evidenced lack of sleep.

“For a pair who are reported ‘all right’ you look a bit the worse for wear,” he remarked gravely. “Stretch out on this cot and rest while I take your brother,” he added to Jim.

“All right,” Austin answered.

“We’re not really brothers,” Bob added. “Each of us started out with a whole pair of parents, but after Jim lost his mother and my father passed on, we looked each other over, decided that in union there is strength, so we got the two grown-ups married. Jim was his father’s best man and I gave my mother away; that is I agreed to the arrangement as long as Jim’s dad treated Mom all right, but it’s understood I fill him full of lead if he falls down on the job.” The doctor laughed heartily at this bit of family history.

“From all I have been able to gather Mr. Austin is still going around without any punctures,” he chuckled.

“Yep, haven’t even taken down a shot gun,” answered Bob.

“Then you feel that you made no mistake,” the doctor remarked.

“Sure,” Jim put in. “I’d known Dad all my life; Bob knew his mother all his life, so we sort of guaranteed them to each other. Sometimes it doesn’t work so good because my Dad’s got the habit of acting perky because he’s got two sons—”

“And Mom saves the gizzards for Jim and when there is only one piece of chocolate cake left, she cuts it three ways; I used to get it all.” Bob scowled darkly.

“Looks as if trouble might be brewing,” said Manwell.

“You still get the livers,” Jim reminded his buddy.

“I like ’em better than the gizzards,” said Bob calmly. He set his lips in a tight line when the doctor’s fingers explored sore spots on his body, but although Manwell was highly efficient he was gentle and the lad realized it was better to submit to this thorough examination.

“Your disappearance yesterday caused a great deal of excitement,” he remarked. “I understand that you were sighted above the Black Range. That’s a pretty wild section, almost entirely unexplored; considered inaccessible. These marks were made by ropes, or some kind of thongs wound pretty tightly, but as far as I can see you have not suffered any serious injury; by that I mean you do not seem to have been hurt, struck or wounded. It will help me considerably if you will tell me something of your experience. There are uncivilized tribes far back among those hills. You must have been walked for hours—”

“We did walk for hours,” Jim answered, “and we fell in with an uncivilized tribe of white men, not natives—”

“White men?”

“Yes. We were captured by a gang and made to do a Marathon; no Indian came near us, but we did see a few.”

“Then I do not need to worry about the sort of treatment you might get from natives. I should have known it, for as long as the whites mind their own business, the natives attend very strictly to theirs.” The doctor finished his examination of the younger boy, then turned his attention to Austin.

“We both got the same sort of deal,” Jim explained.

“You’ll be all right shortly, I’m sure, but I should like to keep an eye on you both for a few days,” he told them, then went on chatting as he worked. “Did you happen to see the butterfly flight? I was up with a friend in the morning and saw a little of it.”

“Reckon we saw it all—or a lot of it, anyway,” said Jim.

“Pilots avoid them usually for they are apt to gum the works of the plane—”

“We were on the ground when it flew over so they did not force us down. It was a great sight, but sort of sad. I didn’t know what it was at first, then I remembered reading that they do that every year;—it was thick as a cloud and when they got above us we couldn’t see the sky.”

“Marvelous sight, marvelous. Now you can slip into pajamas and soft slippers. Expect you’d like something to eat,” the doctor smiled at them. “Naturally I’m keen to know what happened to you, but—”

“I say Doc, if we tell what happened to us no one will believe half of it, but I reckon I’d like to tell it to our friends from Canada and Captain Seaman, even if it does sound like—”

“Like a pack of fairy tales,” added Bob.

“I say,” there was a knock at the door and the voice was Ruhel’s.

“Come on in, we were talking about you,” Jim called, and the Canadian Mounty entered without further ceremony. “You’re looking fit. If I had a horseshoe I’d pin it on you.”

“Don’t those boys want something to eat?” That was the Captain’s wife, who was positive that her guests were famished.

“Expect they do,” the doctor laughed, “although I cannot see that they have suffered especially from hunger.”

“We didn’t,” Bob answered, but he did not say anything about the pellets they had eaten. Presently the Flying Buddies were seated in comfortable chairs before a dainty, but bountiful repast to which they did full justice. Captain Seaman, Ruhel, Bradshaw and the doctor were in the huge cool living room where the table was set, and although they were all agog to get the story of what had happened to the boys, they kept a discreet silence while the meal was in progress.

“Professor Martin to see you, Sir—” Before the servant could say anything more, a tall, thin, bespectacled man entered the room impatiently, and the British officer rose, and stared at him coldly.

“It is very important that I get in touch with you,” the professor declared aggressively.

“Does it occur to you, Sir, that it might be equally important, possibly more so, that you remember your manners, if you have any, and that I should not be disturbed at this moment.” His tones were cold as ice and the professor scowled.

“I am not usually considered lacking in manners, Captain,” he retorted sharply.

“No?”

“No. It is important that I bring this matter to the authorities.”

“The officer of the day will attend to whatever it is, Sir.” The Captain bowed stiffly, an orderly literally backed the professor out of the room and the boys stared after him in astonishment.

“Does he own the earth?” Jim inquired.

“Or only an extra pair of socks?” added Bob.

“He’s got a sore head,” Seaman told them. “Came down among the islands with an important expedition as one of several scientists. They are doing a fine piece of work studying insect and vegetable life in the wild sections under a very capable man, chap named Morley, but he had to go home a few weeks ago because of illness and this lad Martin planted his feet in his chief’s shoes, or has tried to. He’s succeeded in making himself unpopular with the natives, not only those working for him but the villagers generally. A short time ago they did what you U. S.-er’s call, ‘walked out on him,’ although they had been very satisfactory to Morley since he came nearly two years ago. Then Goodman tried to engage others, but didn’t succeed. He is determined to carry the work in a section of the forests which they refuse to enter. He did manage in getting a few half-breeds and full bloods to go on the job, but they quit when the butterflies began to fly to the sea to die. It seems the insects, some of them, set their course above the workers, who are a superstitious lot. To them it is a sign of something, it is not clear to me just what it is.”

“Does he have to conduct the investigation in that particular spot?” Jim inquired with interest.

“They say he does not. My own men, who know anything of the subject assure me that what they want to study and observe can be found in hundreds of localities. Morley and other men of the expedition were of the same opinion, they got along well with the native workers by keeping off their toes and being careful not to infringe with hobbies or ideas. Martin has been bull-headed in the matter and wants us to order the Indians to go out with him and do what he says. There is something about this Butterfly Flight; what is it Doc?”

“I don’t know much more than you do except even if there isn’t a butterfly in sight for miles, the natives seem to know when they are coming. They just knock off what they are doing and wait until it is over. Whatever signs they read from the flight governs their actions but as a rule the majority of them resume their jobs,” he explained.

“We saw the flight,” Bob remarked.

“Yes, one day of it. It takes several days. If Martin is sensible he’ll take a week’s vacation, for not even the negroes will help him now. He may as well turn his attention to something else for the present. How do you feel since you had something to eat?” The doctor asked.

“Top hole,” declared Bob.

“Hadn’t you both better have a good sleep now,” Ruhel suggested.

“I’d like to tell you what we were doing before we go to bed. It may be hours before we wake up and in the meantime there’s a white man back there—”

“A white man?” Seaman started to his feet.

“Yes, his name is Mills and he’s gone crazy—”

“Crazy?” This exclamation came from the old doctor, then he turned gravely to the captain. “I do not want to be a butt-in, Seaman, but I should like to listen to this story, also, if the boys do not mind, I wish you would permit Donald to be present.” He turned to Jim. “Donald is a full blooded native who has spent the greater part of his life with me and my wife. His mother died when he was an infant, she worked for us and we have brought the boy up. In deciding about his life we thought it best to keep him in touch with his own race so he spends a good part of his time with his native relatives. We have given him a Christian education, he is interested in things medical; and I do not mind telling you that he has given us a valuable education in many ways.”

“I am sure Don will be interested in what you have to say, boys, and you can depend upon him to the last breath. He’s a splendid fellow even if the doc did bring him up,” the captain replied promptly.

“Surely, fetch him along,” Jim agreed, then added, “But can we make the party sort of private! You are going to hear some whoppers and you’ll know whether to send someone in after Mills. We didn’t dare risk bringing him out.”

“Very good.” An orderly went in search of the doctor’s adopted son and presently a tall young chap about seventeen years old, with fine manly bearing and a neat white suit but no hat, was ushered in. He was presented to the Flying Buddies, upon whom he smiled broadly, and then Morley explained why he had been sent for.

“I am honored,” the young fellow nodded.

“Come along in my office,” the captain invited, and soon the party were assembled about a huge table in an upper room. Orders were given that they were not to be disturbed on any account.

“Let’s have a look at you,” said the doctor. “Want to be sure your hearts and things are not going to be strained by lack of rest.” He examined them quickly.

“All set?” Ruhel asked.

“You lead off, Jim,” Bob said, so Jim started the story of their arrival on the clearing in the forest. He gave the exact location exactly as it showed on the plane’s charts and indicators, and when the place was mentioned, Donald glanced at the doctor, then leaned forward lest he miss a word of the recital.

Austin told of the landing, seeing the ancient Indian who disappeared so mysteriously, their decision that one of them remain on guard and the boy drew a rough sketch of their location and position. Then Bob told them of his investigations, how much time he had spent, the sudden appearance of the javarel which split the sapling in front of him, then the three Indians, the coming of the butterflies, Jim’s attempt to reach him and the arrival of the plane which had been forced down by the cloud of insects.

“Those white butterflies flew over your head?” Donald interrupted.

“Not while I stood there, but when I stepped out of course I got into them,” Bob replied.

“May I ask another question. Where did you get those rings you are wearing?” the Indian boy wanted to know. Jim eyed him narrowly for a moment.

“They were given to us by a boy in Vermont some time ago. It was during the floods and we carried him and his uncle across Lake Champlain so they could take the train in New York,” he replied carefully. He had a hunch that Donald knew something about the rings.

“We didn’t do much, but everyone was having a bad time, so they gave us the rings because they appreciated getting away,” Bob added.

“Thank you,” Donald smiled. “Pardon the interruption,” he turned to the captain. “I’ve seen similar rings and could not resist inquiring.”

“That’s all right, old man,” Seaman replied.

“The second plane landed near us,” Jim went on with the story, but he omitted the argument over the green emeralds because he did not wish to bring in Don Haurea if he could help it, although both Ruhel and Bradshaw had met the scientist when they were in Texas looking for young Gordon.

“If I may interrupt, I should like to ask Donald what difference it made whether the butterflies went over the boys’ heads,” Ruhel said. “The doctor spoke of superstitions regarding the annual flight.” The dark boy smiled.

“It is said that one who deliberately runs into or under them in their flight will meet disaster in a short time, and all with him,” he replied.

“I see, thank you.”

“Our Flying Buddies did not deliberately run into them,” Bradshaw said gravely.

“They did not, Sir.”

“Great guns, Goodman, the professor I mean, did run into them deliberately—” Seaman put in soberly.

“He did and he endeavored to take workers with him. That is why they deserted him,” Donald explained.

“I see. Manwell would have investigated and avoided such an act,” the Captain remarked, then went on, “Excuse me, boys. Please proceed with your story.”

“Yes sir.” Jim took it up, told of entering the forest with their arms bound, the long wearisome tramp, the destruction of Red, the loss of the batteries and food. The boy told the tale as simply as possible, and although none of the audience asked another question, there were numerous exclamations of astonishment, and several times one of the men paced up and down the floor as the facts were revealed. At last they came to the brightening of the tunnel, the change of air and finally the appearance of the Indian band with their treasures. “When the last of them passed he stopped and looked at Mills for a moment, then went on.”

“Stopped and looked at Mills?” said the doctor.

“Yes sir.” The old man looked at his young adopted son, who nodded his head gravely.

“The man you said that you left back there?”

“Yes. He’s crazy as a bed-bug—”

“Please proceed,” Donald urged.

“Well,” Jim glanced around. “I don’t begin to understand this part at all and I shall not blame you if you set it down as a pipe dream.” He turned to Bob. “We haven’t discussed it between ourselves, Buddy, so you listen carefully and check up on what I tell them. Chip in if I’m wrong anywhere.”

“Shoot,” Bob replied, so Austin proceeded with the tale of the appearance of the band, through the final destruction of both white men and dark, by the released waters.

“I say, Don,” the doctor’s voice was low and not very steady, “is that Bloody Dam—the place where—”

“I believe so, Sir.” He turned to Bob. “You were beside your step-brother, would you please tell us this part of the story as you saw it?”

“It’s about the same as Jim. I had a feeling that it was a dream, but the whole thing seemed sort of unreal and I didn’t think of the Indian band as different from everything else, not until I came out and was where I could pay any attention to the things separately,” Bob replied, then he went on telling how he had crouched by the tree, cautiously wriggling until he got his teeth in the rope to chew it apart. Jim’s appearance just before the task was finished and cutting the lariat with his knife. He proceeded with the account of the Indians, the final swirling of the water almost to their feet and its receding as it found the lower outlet. When the boy paused, his face was white and drawn.

“Suppose you have a drink of this,” the doctor urged. He stirred something, in a glass of water, gave some to each of the lads, and in a moment their tenseness relaxed somewhat and the color came back to their faces.

“Thank you,” said Jim, then started with the rest of the narrative.