It happened just as the boys had expected. While turning her head so often to see how near these persistent pursuers were, the woman had caught her foot in a stout vine.

She had been hurled to the ground with considerable force, but apparently received no serious injury. When she tried to regain her feet, however, on each occasion the clinging vine refused to release its hold. As a consequence she went down again.

Finally, as though realizing the uselessness of further struggling against Fate, the woman stopped trying to get up.

Having twisted around in some manner, she just sat there and stared at the three boys in khaki.

“Now she’s wondering what we’re going to do,” said Mark, as they stood with the woman between them.

“Yes, she’s frightened again, poor thing,” remarked Elmer. “I’m afraid it’s these uniforms that have done it. She surely takes us for soldiers, and thinks we’ve come here just to arrest the whole bunch.”

“I’m glad of one thing, though,” said Lil Artha.

“What might that be?” asked Elmer.

“Looks like she must have dropped that fierce frog sticker when she fell, because you notice she hasn’t got the old knife in her claws just now.”

“That’s right,” admitted Mark, cheerfully, for the fact naturally pleased him.

“And here it is, right at my feet,” said Elmer, as he stooped and took something from the ground.

It was the knife which the Italian woman had flourished so recklessly.

“My stars, what a savage-looking thing!” ejaculated Lil Artha, as he stared at the knife.

“Well, it does look wicked for a fact,” remarked Elmer; “but after all, I reckon she’s never done anything with it but cut dandelion greens, or else prepared fish,” and he took occasion to bring the blade close to his nose while speaking, only to make a face, as though the fishy odor that clung to the steel might be far from pleasant.

“Well, we’ve overhauled the lady; now whatever are we going to do with her?” demanded the tall scout.

“I wonder if she understands English?” remarked Elmer.

“Try her and see,” Mark suggested.

The woman had been watching them keenly all this while. Her manner suggested that she might be trying to read her fate more from their actions than any words which they would let fall.

Accordingly, Elmer stepped forward a pace.

“No hurt,” he said, in the gentlest tone he could muster; “friends-boys-no soldiers.”

“She don’t savvy worth a cent, Elmer,” said Lil Artha, in disgust.

“And her eyes keep following your movements with the knife, as if she thought you meant to strike her,” observed Mark.

Elmer himself saw that this was a fact. Plainly, then, the woman could not understand English, and in her present state of fright she seemed incapable of reading his reassuring gestures. What he meant to be a sign of friendliness she interpreted as a symbol of hostility.

“Seems to me we ought first of all to get her foot free from that nasty tangle,” he remarked.

“Sure, and I guess the only way to do it is to cut the plagued old vine,” said Lil Artha. “But I guess I hadn’t ought to run the thing down, because it served us a mighty good turn just now.”

“Step in and cut the vine, Elmer,” suggested Mark.

When, however, the young scout master had taken a step or two forward, knife in hand, the woman’s fears were once more aroused.

She threw herself forward, struggling violently to release her trapped foot. But the vine proved as strong as a new clothesline, and held tenaciously.

“Good gracious, what a silly goose!” exclaimed Lil Artha, “when all we want to do is to set her free.”

“But you see she don’t look at it that way. The poor creature thinks we’re conspiring to turn the tables on her, just because she threatened us with this knife. Here, hold it, Mark.”

Elmer handed over the knife to his chum at a moment when he saw that the woman’s eyes were fastened upon him.

Then he held up both his hands as he smiled reassuringly. It was the universal “peace sign” known throughout the world. Hardly a savage tribe in the heart of Darkest Africa but would recognize the meaning it expressed.

This time when he advanced the Italian woman did not struggle again. She watched him. Curiosity was overcoming fear. Perhaps she had even begun to realize that these dreadful soldiers did not present such a savage front after all.

So Elmer dropped down on his knees, at a point where he could come in contact with her imprisoned foot, and the wiry vine that gripped it.

A brief examination convinced him that since she had turned around several times during her violent struggle to break away, the only means of freeing the entrapped foot was to cut the vine.

Of course that meant the knife again, and if he asked Mark to hand it to him, possibly the foolish foreigner would have another fit of terror.

So Elmer commenced to use tact again.

First of all he commenced to work at the vine, the woman watching him eagerly.

“No use, pardner,” remarked Lil Artha. “That thing is like steel bands, and the old woman has managed to tie herself up handsomely. Nothing but a knife, and a sharp one, too, will do the business.”

“I know it,” replied Elmer, quietly. “I’m only pretending to try and get her foot out just to make her understand that we want to help her. Now just watch me, and see how I manage.”

Presently, as if despairing of success, he ceased his labor. Then he pointed to the vine, and made several slashes across it with his forefinger, after which he pointed to the knife Mark was holding out, and nodded his head.

The woman was interested.

“Go through it all again; she’s beginning to understand,” said Mark, himself deeply interested in the success of this deaf and dumb method of communication.

“Well, of all the stupids going, give me one of these same dagoes,” grumbled Lil Artha. “Why, you make it plain enough for a Hottentot to grab, Elmer. But I’m beginning to hope she’ll get on soon. Try her once more, pardner. You’re the boss hand at wig-wagging. Give her the high sign, Elmer.”

Deliberately Elmer again pretended to cut the vine with his forefinger, then shook his head and afterward pointed to the knife.

The woman’s black eyes followed each movement, and evidently she began to grasp the idea that he did not desire the weapon so as to injure, but to assist her.

“Glory be!” ejaculated Lil Artha, who had been almost holding his breath with suspense while all this pantomime business was going on, “look at that, would you, fellows? A bright thought has managed to get a foothold in her brain. I bet you it needed a sledge hammer to pound it in. Say, she’s beginning to smile at you, Elmer. You’ve won out. She believes you mean all right. Give him the toad-sticker, Mark, and let him get to work.”

Elmer knew that his actions would no longer be misconstrued. The Italian woman understood.

So he held out his hand and received the knife from Mark. The woman moved uneasily, but the smile Elmer gave her was surely enough to disarm any lingering suspicion she may have entertained.

Of course it was only a small job now to cut through the obstinate vine at a point where the greatest holding point lay.

“There you are!” remarked Lil Artha, as the knife severed the last strand.

The woman got slowly to her feet. She folded her arms across her bosom with what seemed to be an air of resignation. Yet Elmer knew that all the while those sparkling black eyes were watching him intently.

The woman had guessed that Elmer must be the leader of the three strangers in uniform. Hence she looked to him for orders.

“Well, what’re we going to do with this pretty thing, now that we’ve got it?” remarked Lil Artha.

“I suppose, first of all, we ought to go back to the shack,” said Elmer.

“You mean to hold her a prisoner, I take it?” asked Mark, who had the utmost faith in the acting scout master’s ability to grasp the situation.

“That’s about the only thing open to us,” Elmer replied. “Through the woman perhaps we can get in touch with the three men who are holding Nat Scott a prisoner, and bring about his release.”

“I don’t see how,” grumbled Lil Artha. “If you had all that trouble getting her to understand you only meant to cut the old vine, and not her foot off, how in the dickens d’ye expect to get her to know we don’t mean to do her bunch any harm?”

“Oh, there may be ways,” smiled Elmer.

“But you don’t speak Italiano, Elmer; that’s dead sure, else you’d have used it right now to tell her you only wanted to cut the vine,” Lil Artha went on.

“How about George?” remarked Elmer.

“What! George Robbins?” asked the tall scout.

“Why, yes, you remember he told us his father employs a large number of these foreigners, and unless I’m mistaken I think I remember hearing George say he’d been picking up quite a lot of Italian words.”

“That sounds all to the good then,” declared Lil Artha, with enthusiasm. “Bully for George! His knowledge may be the key that’s going to unlock this old padlock for us.”

“Then let’s get back to the shack. Fall in around the woman. That ought to tell her what we want her to do.”

Elmer, as he spoke, took up his position alongside the prisoner, while Mark and the long-legged scout clapped their sticks to their right shoulders as though parading arms.

Then Elmer pointed backward in the direction they had just come from.

“Go!” he said, impressively.

Whether the prisoner understood the word, or judged from their actions what was required, Elmer could not say. All he cared for was the fact that when he started off she accompanied him, limping a little as though she might have twisted her ankle somewhat in the violence of her struggles, looking sullen rather than fearful now, and apparently resigned to her fate, whatever that might prove to be.

There was no difficulty about reaching the abandoned shack again. All Elmer had to do was to follow the broad trail they had made when chasing after the fleeing woman.

They found no change when they presently drew up at the hidden retreat. Nor was there any sign of the other scouts, though once Elmer thought he did hear loud and excited voices up on the side of the mountain, as though Matty and his detachment might have found it necessary to leave the lowlands, and were having troubles of their own.

“Well,” remarked Lil Artha, as they arrived in front of the shack, “here we are, all to the good, and right side up with care. The question is, what d’ye expect to do with the signorina, now that you’ve got her?”

“She must be kept a prisoner in the shanty until we can decide on our course, and get George here,” replied Elmer, so readily that the others understood how he must have his plan of action fully mapped out in his own mind.

“Let’s see you usher her in, then,” chuckled the tall scout, just as though he anticipated enjoying a treat when Elmer tried to “shoo” the Italian woman into the place.

But it proved the easiest thing possible. When Elmer took her by the arm and pointed to the open door the woman gave him one look, shook herself free from his grasp, and hastened to vanish within the shack.

“Easy as falling off a log,” declared Lil Artha, a shade of disappointment in his voice, for he had anticipated more or less of a struggle.

Elmer quietly closed the door.

“How are you going to fasten it?” asked Mark.

“I wish that was the hardest nut I had to crack,” laughed the scout master. “Fortunately the door opens outwardly.”

“Unfortunately, you mean,” echoed Mark, as he touched the painful lump on his forehead.

“I say yes to that,” grinned Lil Artha, whose nose had stopped bleeding by this time, but whose face was a sight to behold, being smeared with all manner of strange red marks that made him resemble an Apache Indian on the warpath.

“As it does open outwardly, however,” Elmer went on saying, with a sympathetic smile for the woes of his chums, “it ought to be easy enough for us to barricade the door. Look around, boys, and see if you can find several good stout sticks about three or four feet long. Even a small tree trunk would be about what we want.”

“And I think I know where to find one,” said Lil Artha, hastening away, “because I took a header over it when we were chasing the dago woman.”