“That’s right,” exclaimed the officer, “and I want to thank him; but I don’t understand about Mallory.”
“Never mind about him now,” said Billy Byrne. “If he’s alive that’s all that counts—I haven’t got his blood on my hands. Go on with your story.”
“Well, after that gang of pirates left us,” continued the captain, “we rigged an extra wireless that they didn’t know we had, and it wasn’t long before we raised the warship Alaska. Her commander put a crew on board the Lotus with machinists and everything necessary to patch her up—coaled and provisioned her and then lay by while we got her in running order. It didn’t take near as long as you would have imagined. Then we set out in company with the warship to search for the ‘Clarinda,’ as your Captain Simms called her. We got on her track through a pirate junk just north of Luzon—he said he’d heard from the natives of a little out-of-the-way island near Formosa that a brigantine had been wrecked there in the recent typhoon, and his description of the vessel led us to believe that it might be the ‘Clarinda,’ or Halfmoon.
“We made the island, and after considerable search found the survivors. Each of ’em tried to lay the blame on the others, but finally they all agreed that a man by the name of Theriere with a seaman called Byrne, had taken you into the interior, and that they had believed you dead until a few days since they had captured one of the natives and learned that you had all escaped, and were wandering in some part of the island unknown to them.
“Then we set out with a company of marines to find you. Your father, impatient of the seeming slowness of the officer in command, pushed ahead with Mr. Mallory, Mr. Poster, and myself, and two of the men of the Lotus whom he had brought along with us.
“Three days ago we were attacked and your father and Mr. Mallory taken prisoners. The rest of us escaped, and endeavored to make our way back to the marines, but we became confused and have been wandering aimlessly about the island ever since until we were surprised by these natives a few moments ago. Both the seamen were killed in this last fight and Mr. Foster and myself taken prisoners—the rest you know.”
Byrne was on his feet now. He found his sword and revolver and replaced them in his belt.
“You men stay here on the island and take care of Miss Harding,” he said. “If I don’t come back the marines will find you sooner or later, or you can make your way to the coast, and work around toward the cove. Goodbye, Miss Harding.”
“Where are you going?” cried the girl.
“To get your father—and Mr. Mallory,” said the mucker.
XVI
The Supreme Sacrifice
Through the balance of the day and all during the long night Billy Byrne swung along his lonely way, retracing the familiar steps of the journey that had brought Barbara Harding and himself to the little island in the turbulent river.
Just before dawn he came to the edge of the clearing behind the dwelling of the late Oda Yorimoto. Somewhere within the silent village he was sure that the two prisoners lay.
During the long march he had thrashed over again and again all that the success of his rash venture would mean to him. Of all those who might conceivably stand between him and the woman he loved—the woman who had just acknowledged that she loved him—these two men were the most to be feared.
Billy Byrne did not for a moment believe that Anthony Harding would look with favor upon the Grand Avenue mucker as a prospective son-in-law. And then there was Mallory! He was sure that Barbara had loved this man, and now should he be restored to her as from the grave there seemed little doubt but that the old love would be aroused in the girl’s breast. The truth of the matter was that Billy Byrne could not conceive the truth of the testimony of his own ears—even now he scarce dared believe that the wonderful Miss Harding loved him—him, the despised mucker!
But the depth of the man’s love for the girl, and the genuineness of his newfound character were proven beyond question by the relentless severity with which he put away every thought of himself and the consequences to him in the matter he had undertaken.
For Her Sake! had become his slogan. What though the results sent him to a savage death, or to a life of lonely misery, or to the arms of his beloved! In the face of duty the result was all the same to Billy Byrne.
For a moment he stood looking at the moon-bathed village, listening for any sign of wakefulness or life, then with all the stealth of an Indian, and with the trained wariness of the thief that he had been, the mucker slunk noiselessly across the clearing to the shadows of the nearest hut.
He listened beneath the window through which he and Barbara and Theriere had made their escape a few weeks before. There was no sound from within. Cautiously he raised himself to the sill, and a moment later dropped into the inky darkness of the interior.
With groping hands he felt about the room—it was unoccupied. Then he passed to the door at the far end. Cautiously he opened it until a narrow crack gave him a view of the dimly lighted chamber beyond. Within all seemed asleep. The mucker pushed the door still further open and stepped within—so must he search every hut within the village until he had found those he sought?
They
