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was drawing toward morning when we reached the spot where we had gone ashore on our first trip up the river, after Ramon Delverez. We located the place with ease, and it was no task to trace the trail through the cocoanut grove to the hut which was Lola's home.

As we came up we found that all was quiet, with not a soul in sight.

"Perhaps they have removed poor Dan," murmured Oliver. "I'd give a good deal to see him safe."

"And in his right mind," I put in. "Softly now, or if that native is around he will slip through our fingers."

We came up to the hut with caution, and leaving the policemen and Oliver outside I rushed in impetuously.

"Who is that?" called a voice in the darkness—Dan's voice,—and I felt instinctively that our chum was again in his right mind.