It was bad enough to know that Dick's father was held for ransom, but Ray was in ten times as much danger. She was so sweet and pretty in her gay, jaunty way, that the mere thought of her coming to harm aroused them to madness.
"Faster! Faster!" shouted Dan. "I've got to get my sister out of there!"
Gone was all his jolly manner. His round face was no longer ruddy but looked pale and strained, and his eyes showed the light of desperate resolve.
"Faster! Faster!" commanded Dick Oakwood, and his jaw set in a hard, fighting line as he stared straight ahead down the tropical river.
Raal echoed the cry for speed and more speed and the paddlers drove deeper into the sluggish water, while foam curled before the canoes.
Mutaba caught the excitement and his men were stirred to fighting rage. Their war chant rang out as they bent to the paddles and the alarming sounds startled the parrots and monkeys in the overhanging trees.
"This will never do," said Dick. "We don't know how far the sounds may carry."
"That's right. We don't want to warn those cut-throats that we are on our way," Dan urged.
As if his thoughts had been read, a voice of command travelled over the surface of the water and penetrated the uproar with its calm accent.
"Quiet, my children! Make speed, but no more noise."
"Did you hear him?" Dick questioned. "Did you hear English words?"
"Of course. At least I seemed to hear them."
"But the black Kungoras obeyed. And so did the Taharans. And the Gorols, too! Yet none of those people understood English."
"That's a fact. How do you account for that?"
"The Mahatma sent an order that each man understood in his own language. It was not in words, however. He just sent his thoughts to us all. We _imagined_ we heard the words, but what happened was that we got the idea by some sixth sense."
"That's magic! The real thing!" Dan exclaimed.
"Not magic. It's what I told you about; a kind of mental radio."
"Well, if the Mahatma can send his thoughts like that, he must be a wise old bird, after all!" Dan exclaimed. "Say, I was wrong to kid him so much and call him Old Whiskers."
"Not likely. He probably does not consider it worth while to be insulted by a fresh youngster like you."
"Jiminy, I hope you're right, Dick. We certainly need the Mahatma's help if we are going to get Ray out of there."