HAND-TO-HAND.

From what Matt could see of the island as the Grampus drifted into the cove, and from the further observations which he made while standing on the rocks and helping Dick, he knew that it could not be very extensive. Probably it would have covered an acre of ground, if measured in a square, but its surface was vastly greater than that, inasmuch as it consisted of barren hills and valleys.

Matt's intention, when he left the submarine, was to climb to the highest point and take a look around. He was still worrying about the mysterious steamer, and the no less mysterious Japs. From what he had heard and read of the Japanese, he understood that dogged persistency was a national trait. If the Sons of the Rising Sun had made up their minds to destroy the submarine, it would take more than one rebuff to discourage them. That they were still on the trail of the Grampus Matt had not the least doubt, and if they should happen to sight the boat in the cove, and make an attack while the propeller was being cleared, they would stand a fair show of success.

In looking for the steamer Matt did not intend to confine his gaze to seaward, but to give fully as much attention upstream as below.

He had already selected the hill he was going to climb, and picked out the narrow valley that would lead him to its base.

A little scrambling over rough ground brought him to the valley. Projecting rocks, weather-stained and wind-worn, rose to right and left. Flocks of gulls arose out of them, alarmed by his approach, and winged away across the river.

The valley was not over twenty feet wide, and angled back and forth sharply on its way to the hill. Matt stepped off at a brisk gait, for he would have to be quick if he finished what he had in mind by the time Dick and the rest had cleared the propeller and got the boat once more in trim.

Matt was not expecting any trouble on the island, and, as usual, it was the unexpected that happened.

The flapping of the birds' wings made a noise that drowned the crunch of his footsteps in the gravel. This, it may be, accounted for the surprise that met him as he rounded a sharp turn, for his approach was not heard, and he came suddenly face to face with a creeping savage. The native was nude, save for a short kirtle that hung from his waist, and he was carrying an ugly-looking spear.

It seemed clear that the fellow was creeping up on the boat. His surprise was as great as Matt's, and for a brief space both stood staring at each other. Then, as Matt's gaze wandered farther on along the valley, he saw four other natives, all of whom had been on their hands and knees and had leaped erect the moment the young motorist presented himself.

Then it was that Matt lifted his voice and shouted the warning heard by Dick and Glennie. Matt did not finish what he was saying, for a suggestive movement of the native's spear hand made it necessary for him to take quick action to protect himself.

Like lightning the king of the motor boys leaped forward, and his fist shot out straight from the shoulder. A grunt was jolted from the lips of the stricken native, and he staggered backward. This caused the hand holding the spear to rise quickly, and the spear point caught in Matt's leather jacket, which was unbuttoned and flying open.

The native fell backward, keeping a convulsive grip on the spear, and dragging Matt down with him. In a twinkling the other four savages had surrounded Matt and were menacing him with their spears.

The spear points were of steel, ground to a sharp point. They had a greenish, corroded look, which suggested that they had been poisoned. Judging this to be the case, Matt put forth every effort to avoid being pricked or scratched by the flourished weapons.

Seizing the handle of the spear held by the man who had fallen, Matt wrenched it away and swept it around his head in a circle. The other four savages leaped back to the edge of the circle and continued their hostile demonstrations. The fellow on the ground, who evidently possessed a large amount of courage, reached up abruptly and caught hold of the spear.

With exultant shouts, the other four began to close in. Hampered in using the spear, Matt found it necessary to change his tactics. Releasing the weapon, he laid hold of the native to whom it belonged, grabbed him about the waist, and flung him heavily against the foremost of his companions.

The men were all of short stature, although heavily muscled and of great strength. The human missile launched by Matt overset the first of the four advancing Indians, and this man, in his turn, tumbled backward and knocked down another. The remaining two were between Matt and the end of the valley it would be necessary for him to traverse in order to regain the boat.

Flourishing his fists and shouting an angry command for them to clear his path, he leaped directly at them. One of them launched his spear. Matt ducked downward, and the weapon whipped over his head, just grazing his cap.

This unarmed native was the one Matt speedily made up his mind to pass. But again the unexpected happened. As Matt dashed forward a stone gave way under his foot. He sought vainly to recover his balance, and plunged headlong and rolled over and over.

Before he could get up all the natives were upon him. It looked, just at that moment, as though nothing could save him. Yet he did not give up. Rising to his knees, he caught the ankles of one of his foes and jerked his feet out from under him.

A fierce order in an unknown tongue was given, and four figures sprang with murderous celerity to obey it. At that juncture—a critical juncture for Motor Matt—the sharp, incisive note of a revolver rang out. One of the savages, with a cry of pain, stepped backward, dropped his spear, and clasped his right wrist with his left hand.

There followed another shot, accompanied by a sound of running feet in the shingle and the loud voice of Glennie:

"Get away from there, you scoundrels! I'll give you a taste of more metal if you don't clear out."

The second bullet had done no harm, but the natives, not knowing how many men were following Glennie, whirled and made off, one of them picking up the fallen spear as he went.

"Are you hurt, King?" panted Glennie, coming to a breathless halt beside Matt.

"Not at all, Glennie," Matt answered; "but I had a tight squeak of it."

"Shall we chase those rascals?"

"No," was the answer as Matt regained his feet; "we'll make tracks back to the Grampus, and thank our lucky stars that we got out of this as well as we did. There may be a lot more of the Indians hiding among the rocks, and I've a notion that their spear points are poisoned. We'll not give them a chance to dig their spears into us, if we can help it."

Watching behind cautiously, Matt and Glennie immediately set out on their return to the boat.

"I didn't think there was a human being anywhere near the island, apart from ourselves," said Matt. "When those rascals came face to face with me the surprise was mutual—and far from pleasant, so far as I was concerned. Did you hear me yell?"

"That's what brought me ashore," said Glennie. "Ferral was bound to come; but I told him he had better carry out orders regarding the ship and let me go. This six-shooter carried the day."

"And saved my life," added Matt. "I'll not forget that, Mr. Glennie."

A flush of pleasure ran through Glennie's face.

"Bosh!" he exclaimed. "You'd have done the same for me, if our positions had been reversed."

By that time they were at the place where it was necessary for them to leave the valley and pick their way through the scattered bowlders to the shore of the cove. While they were climbing the rocks, Carl suddenly thrust his head out from behind one of them.

"Hoop-a-la!" he cried joyfully. "Id vas Matt, himseluf! My olt bard, Modor Matt, alife und kicking like alvays! Matt, der sighdt oof you makes me so habby as I can'd dell!"

"Same here, old ship!" chimed in the voice of Dick, as he showed himself beside Carl.

Dick was armed with an old harpoon, and Carl carried a hatchet.

"You're a nice pair, I must say!" cried Matt. "The last order I gave instructed you to clear the propeller and sink the Grampus."

"The propeller is cleared, matey," said Dick; "but you wouldn't catch Carl and me going to the bottom of the cove in the Grampus until we had found out what became of you. We heard a couple of shots, and nothing could keep us from coming ashore, after that. Who did you mix up with?"

"Five savages. I don't know whether they live on the island, or whether they came from the river bank. Anyhow, I came front to front with them, and they were creeping in the direction of the boat."

"Den dey knowed der poat vas in der cove!" said Carl, casting a cautious look behind, in the direction of the valley. "Vas dere more as fife, Matt?"

"I don't know. Five are all I saw. We'd better get away from here as soon as we can, though, and get up the river to Para."

A moment later the boys reached the shore of the cove and found Speake unloosening the cables.

"All right, Matt?" called Speake.

"Yes; but in a tearing hurry," Matt answered. "Is the Grampus ready for sea?"

"She's as fit as a fiddle! Clackett is putting the stuff below back where it belongs, and we just dumped that load o' rock off the bow."

Matt, Dick, Carl, and Glennie dropped on the submarine's deck. In short order the cables were hauled aboard, coiled, and stowed, and Speake leaped from the rocks and was caught and steadied by Matt as he came down.

Matt got into the tower and signaled the engine room. The motor got busy, and the cheerful splash of the propeller was heard. Slowly the Grampus picked her way out of the cove, those on her deck watching the receding rocks for some sign of the savages. But they saw none.