Slowly the sun arose, and as its first rays lighted the cloudless sky Ilalah came gliding from the palace and sprang lightly up the steps that Duncan had let down in order to receive her. Once she was in the car we all breathed easier, and the inventor especially showed his content and exultation.  
“Now let them come!” he cried; and each of us felt that the sooner the suspense was over the better we would like it.
 
King Nalig-Nad gave us plenty of time, though, and we had breakfast while we waited, the princess accepting her share with gracious enjoyment of a meal quite novel in her experience. She was so unaffected and so charming in her manner that already we began to consider her one of us.
 
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At last the king and his chiefs emerged, and we could see by their stern faces that a climax in our adventure had arrived.
 
Moit was ready for them. He backed the machine around until it was facing the barricade and as far removed from it as the enclosure would allow. He had made Ilalah crouch low on the floor of the car, so that her people would not discover her presence.
 
A spokesman advanced from the group of warriors and demanded Bryonia’s promised answer.
 
I opened a side window and said, boldly and in a loud voice, that we had played with the San Blas people long enough.
 
“You annoy us with your foolish demands,” I added, “and we cannot bother to remain with you longer. Had you been friendly, we would have favored you; but you are silly children, and so we leave you.”
 
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As I finished speaking Duncan opened the window in front of his steering wheel and aimed a shot from his revolver at the red chalk mark on the barricade that marked the location of the explosive. There was no result, so he fired again, and still again.
 
The natives, at first furious at my insults, now paused to wonder what the big white slave was shooting at, and I saw that the inventor’s nervousness or lack of marksmanship was likely soon to plunge us into a deal of trouble. Leaping to his side I pushed him away and took careful aim with my own revolver.
 
A crash that seemed to rend the very air followed. The machine was hurled backward against the king’s palace, from which a rain of mud bricks and bits of wood rattled down upon us, while all the open space of the enclosure was filled with falling debris.
 
Shrieks of terror and pain followed, while we, who had all been dumped in a heap on the floor of the car, scrambled up and took note of what had happened. The wall had vanished, and only a ragged depression in the earth remained to mark the place where the barricade had lately stood.
 
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None of us was injured, fortunately, and as soon as Duncan had assured himself that Ilalah was alive and unhurt he sprang to the lever and the machine bounded forward and skimmed light as a feather over the littered ground.
 
I tried to look out and wave an adieu to King Nalig-Nad; but we were off like a shot across the meadows and all I could see was a mass of excited natives rushing here and there in wild confusion.
 
After fifteen minutes of this terrific speed Moit moderated our pace, for we were miles from the village and pursuit was impossible.
 
“Where now?” he asked, his voice seeming to indicate that he cared not a rap, since we had managed to escape with the beautiful princess.
 
“It will be well for us to find that valley of diamonds as soon as possible,” said I, “and secure our plunder before the king can raise the alarm and head us off.”
 
“All right; where is it?” he demanded.
 
I produced the map and pointed out the location of the valley, which appeared to lie in a fork of the river, far to the south.
 
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“We are now somewhere to the east of the king’s village,” I observed. “The hilly ground ahead of us rises to small mountains between here and the sea; but if we turn south there is open country clear through to the forest-clad mountain range, and when we reach the forest we can follow its edge until we come to the diamond valley.”
 
“That is clear enough,” replied Moit, looking over my shoulder.
 
So we turned south, and presently came to a stream with such steep banks that we could not cross it. The map had not prepared us for this, so we kept to the eastward, endeavoring to find a crossing, until we reached a marsh, and found our wheels sinking into a soft and treacherous bog.
 
We backed out just in time to avoid serious trouble, and had to go north again, skirting the marsh slowly and with care until we were once more in the hills we had recently left.
 
This was decidedly annoying, and we appealed to Ilalah.
 
“Is there not a path from here to the mountains?” I asked.
 
200
“Oh, yes;” she said; “there must be many paths.”
 
“Do you know them?”
 
“Not to go to them from here. Often I and my women cross to the great forest from our village; but we seldom come here at all.”
 
“I don’t blame you,” growled Moit. “This part of your country isn’t worth photographing. What shall we do now, Sam?”
 
“I don’t like to go back,” said I, studying the map with a suspicion that its maker had never been in this section at all. “But we might try these hills. If we could find a path over them it might lead us around the marsh, and then we would be all right.”
 
“How do you know? There may be more marshes,” he suggested.
 
“It may be. This is all guess work, it seems—map and all. But if we reached the ocean we could run along the beach at low tide, and make good time.”
 
“It is certainly worth a trial,” he said; “and if we fail we cannot be any worse off than we are at present.”
 
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I doubted that the automobile would be much of a hill-climber, because until then I had a notion that the heaviest machines, with the most power to move their weight, could climb the easiest. But a few minutes removed that erratic idea from my mind. We skimmed up the slopes as lightly as an ibex, and went down them much more safely than a heavy machine under the strain of brakes could do. And so, winding around this hill and over that, we kept on at an easy pace until the breath of salt air could be felt and we knew we were close to the sea.
 
But now the hills became rocky and more difficult. One good sized mound stood right in our way, and after a close inspection of it through our telescope (for Moit seemed to have forgotten nothing in fitting up his automobile) we saw a broad ledge running around its right side which promised a way through to the coast.
 
By now it was after midday, for much time had been consumed in seeking a path through this wild and unknown country. So we halted for luncheon, and as we ate I said to Ilalah:
 
202
“How did you learn to speak such fine English, Princess, when your people have always hated the whites and tried to drive them from your dominions?”
 
“The king my father,” she answered, “is very wise. From his captives he has learned that half of the people of the world speak English. So he thought it would be best for some of the Techlas to speak English too. One day our watchers brought to the king a man and a woman, who were of the English but could speak a little Spanish too. My father promised them life if they would teach us to speak the English tongue. So the man taught the king and his noble chiefs each day in the courtyard of the palace, while the woman taught the foreign tongue to me and my favorite attendants in our own rooms. It was a long task and a hard one, but after many moons some of us could speak and understand the English well enough.”
 
“Did you also learn to read?” Duncan asked.
 
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“No. My father says written words are lies, for when you read the signs you cannot read the speaker’s eyes and know that he speaks truth. The Techlas do not love the sign language, and will not have it.”
 
“That is foolish,” I said. “If you cannot read, you cannot know what is going on in the world.”
 
“And that is what we do not wish to know,” she answered, smiling. “My people say that to hear of other people is to make unhappiness. We live only our own lives; so why should we care what happens in other lives in other countries?”
 
It struck me there was some sense in that, if their own lives were sufficient to content them.
 
“What became of the white man and woman who taught you?” asked Duncan.
 
“After we had learned to speak their tongue my father killed them,” she answered simply.
 
“Then he, too, lied,” I said.
 
“Not so. He promised them life if they would teach us, and they lived. But he could not promise them life for all time, because all life is uncertain.”
 
“So he killed them?”
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