of the number, Walter and a sailor named Si Doring, were missing."
"Walter!" muttered Ben. "Si Doring was his chum."
"And—and didn't they come back?" questioned Larry, faintly. He could scarcely speak.
"They did not. The next morning a rescuing party went out, but this was attacked by the natives, who also attacked the ship with fire arrows. One man was killed in the battle on the beach, and three wounded, and at last the Central sailed away, feeling it would be useless to try to rescue the missing ones, even if they were—well—you know." Gilbert's voice dropped. "I'm awfully sorry—you know I am," he added.
For the moment neither Ben nor Larry could speak. Walter missing, perhaps dead! The news was a frightful shock. They had looked forward with so much pleasure to seeing him in a day or two.
"It may not be as bad as you suppose," went on Gilbert, trying his best to soothe them. "He and his chum may have escaped into the woods."
"It is doubtful," returned Ben. "Poor, poor Walter! Perhaps we'll never hear what really did
