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.Two of the most stubbornskeptics had been beaten up.Cuffee's young bullies operated the polls andannounced the result."But they aren't an army," Farnham said."At least, not what I saw.Can thosetwo dozen ruffians really ter-rorize the whole community?""Hasn't the same thing happened in bigger countries, but in a not verydifferent proportion?" Simon reminded him."Besides," Johnny said, "there's more than what you saw.Cuffee's got them outnow, roundin' up Maroons from all over for a big meeting tomorrow, where he'sgoin' to tell 'em what the new system's goin' to be."There was evidently some connection between this and Cuffee's sudden decisionto let them stay overnight; and Farnham and the Saint exchanged glances."Just what is his platform?" Farnham asked."I dunno, sah.But from what I hear, I think it's some-thing about how all thecolored people in Jamaica should have the same right as the Maroons, an' weshould let all of 'em join us who want to, and enlarge our boundaries tillthere's room for all of 'em.""And eventually they end up with the whole island," Farnham said grimly."Yes,that's clear enough." He looked suddenly very tired."I'm afraid this turnsout to be a bit out of my department.I suppose I'll just have to report itall to the Governor, and let Government decide what to do.""Government should be able to take care of it," Simon remarked."A fewsoldiers, or even policemen ""You're forgetting the Treaty."The Saint had finished his plate.He lighted a cigarette thoughtfully."Well, where do I stand?" he inquired."I don't like Mr.Cuffee on principle,and I didn't sign any treaty."He was aware of a transient spark in Robertson's dull eyes, and that for amoment the Commander paused in his energetic chomping, but most of all of theintent eagerness of Johnny."No," Farnham said firmly."You're only a visitor.I know your methods, andthey just won't go here.This situation is ticklish enough already.Don't makeit any more complicated.""You're the boss," said the Saint; but he knew that Johnny was still lookingat him.David Farnham could not responsibly have taken any other attitude, but hisenforced correctness cast an in-evitable dampener over the discussion.Theywent to bed not long afterwards, after much repetition and no progress, andSimon sympathetically refrained from further argument when they were alone.The iron bedsteads were not luxurious, but the rough-dried sheets were freshand clean, and the Saint never allowed vain extrapolations to interfere withhis rest.A few seconds after his head settled on the pillow, he was in adream-less sleep.He awoke to a light touch on his shoulder, instantly, without a movement oreven a perceptible change in his breathing.Relaxing one eyelid just enough togive him a minimum slit to peek through he saw Johnny's face bending over himPage 43 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlin the first grayness of dawn, and opened both eyes.Johnny put a finger to his lips and made a beckoning sign.The Saint nodded, and slithered over the edge of the bed as silently as theuncooperative springs would let him.The hearty rhythm of Farnham's snoringdid not change, and Johnny was already a shadow gliding through the door.Afew moments later the Saint, in shirt and trousers and carrying his sandals,joined him outside.A little way up the path from the house, in shadows made darker by the palingsky, a group of five men stood waiting.As Johnny and Simon joined them,Si-mon saw that Robertson and the Commander were two of them.The other threewere of similar age.There were no introductions.Johnny seemed to have beenap-pointed spokesman."We talked for a long time after you went to bed," he said."I told them a lotabout you.They think you might be able to help us.They want to show you thePeace Cave.That's where the Treaty is supposed to have been signed.I haven'teven seen it myself.But they seem to think it's important, I don't know why.Will you go?""Of course," said the Saint, with a strange sensation in his spine.5They set off at once.Nobody talked, and before long the Saint himself was grateful to be spared theeffort of conversation.Even in such good condition as he always was, he wasglad to save his breath for locomotion.The trail wound up in-numerable steephills and down an identical number of declivities, through arching forest andover the slippery rocks and muck of little streams.The sun came up, scorchingin the open, brewing invisible steam in the de-ceptive shade.Simon had tomarvel at the driving pace set by the Commander in the lead anduncomplainingly maintained by the other old men
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