Jack nodded. He did not speak, however. It was not a time for mere words. The next moment they had passed from the dark shadows of the jungle into the open space about the plantation buildings. Each clasped his gas-gun ready for instant use. But nobody appeared to bar their progress. When they gained the structure from which the lamp was hanging, they found that it was a tall building of wood, and seemingly three stories in height. It was used, though they did not know this at the time, as a drying house for the hemp after it had been through the crushing and separating processes. The door was secured on the outside by a weighty bar of wood. Captain Andrews lifted this out of its sockets, and in a jiffy had flung the door open. Inside was pitchy darkness, so black that it could almost be felt. Jack had brought along his electric pocket lamp. He drew it out and switched on the current. The rays revealed a large, bare chamber, empty, except for a pile of dry hemp in one corner, and in another a few bales of the product stacked ready for shipment. “Nothing here,” said Captain Andrews briefly. “No; but see, there’s a flight of steps in that corner. Let’s go higher and find out what’s on the floor above.” “It may be wasting precious time, lad.” “On the other hand, this was the building that was guarded by the sentry. It’s fair to assume, then, that it is in this structure that our friends are confined.” Captain Andrews had nothing to reply to this logic, and followed Jack up the steps. At the summit of the rickety staircase was another door, secured, as had been the one below, by a stout bar of wood. Jack tackled this and wrenched it free. As he did so a voice that thrilled him in every fiber came from within the portal. “Who is it?” “Dad! It’s me—Jack—I’ve come to save you!” blurted out Jack, tears of sheer gladness springing to his eyes. He flung the door open. The next instant Jack was clasped in his father’s arms, while about him and Captain Andrews, pressed the other captives, all well and unharmed and half wild with delight as they greeted the lad whose pluck had conquered Herrera’s “deadline.” CHAPTER XVIII—HEMMED IN BY FLAMES Naturally, after the first greeting’s had been exchanged, Mr. Jesson’s principal anxiety was for his son Tom. Jack soon set his mind at rest on this subject. “Tom and Ned Bangs are back on the other side of the woods, with the aero-auto,” he explained. “Ah, then it has proved a success?” eagerly interjected Mr. Chadwick. “It is even better than we hoped it would be,” rejoined Jack enthusiastically. “I wouldn’t be scared to trust myself to that aerial wind-jammer for a voyage to China,” stoutly declared Captain Andrews. “I reckon if Wellman had had a craft like that he’d have crossed the Atlantic easy as shooting.” “I don’t know but what you’re right,” said Jack; “but the thing to discuss now is how to get out of here. Dad, do you know much about this place?”