A louder murmur came from the natives as they settled back in their places and Jack tuned his violin. Deciding that some simple tunes would suit these people best, the boy played “Turkey in the Straw.” Pleased by their dancing eyes, he did the “Arkansas Traveler,” then “Deep in the Heart of Texas.” When he swung into “Old Man River,” the natives seemed to sense the meaning of the song, for their faces were somber and sad. But now some one was singing the words. He listened carefully. It was the girl who sang. “Sing it all,” he whispered. He started once more at the beginning and she sang with him to the end. After that he played on and on, wondering, Where did this girl learn that song? She had said, “These people.” Were they not her people? It was mighty strange. When the fire had burned low and some of the native children were asleep at their mothers’ sides, Jack put his violin away. Then, as if he were in church and had preached a good sermon, the older members of the group came forward for a solemn handshake. After a few words to the natives, the girl turned to Jack. “I’ll show you a new way back to your camp,” she said in a quiet voice. A moment later, without a light, she was leading him through the inky blackness of a jungle trail. “There are only two of us, my pal and I,” Jack said to the girl after a time. “We may get into a tight spot any time!” “Oh, you are in a tight spot right now!” In the meantime, some distance to the south, things were happening on the dark waters of night. Catching the drone of airplane motors and recognizing them as those used in U. S. fighter planes, Ted on his raft had become greatly excited. That’s Kentucky and my other pals, he thought. They’re out looking for me. How can I signal to them? A flare. The thought came to him at once. In his emergency outfit were matches in a sealed tin. With trembling fingers he opened the can. But what could he use for a torch? He thought of his gony. Its feathers would burn. But no. He couldn’t do that. His parachute? Yes, it would burn. But what a waste. If other things failed, he’d use it. But meanwhile he’d tie his shirt to one of the paddles and light it. He wadded it tightly around the paddle blade so it would burn for some time. He lighted it, and moved it about in the air. “It makes so little light. They’ll never see it,” he despaired. But they did see it. Soon Kentucky came zooming down while the others circled above him. “Boy! Am I glad to see you!” Ted put out a hand to Kentucky when the plane was down and he had paddled to it. “That makes two of us!” Kentucky gripped his hand excitedly. “I’ll be with the old _Black Bee_ after all when we make that big push!” Ted exulted. “You won’t be in anything if you don’t get busy and climb up here!” Kentucky laughed. “Wait. I’ll have to take care of my gony.” Ted reached down. “Hey! Ouch! Quit it!” he exclaimed. “Ungrateful creature! I should have used you for a torch.”