Young Hunters in Porto Rico: or, The Search for a Lost Treasure

"Nonsense; it was a Carib did, that!" cried Bob.

"I do not believe it."

"If Robert Menden knocked you down, would he take the trouble to bind up your wound afterward?"

"He probably got scared, being afraid that he had killed me and must hang for it."

"You is away off de track," said Danny. "A big black feller struck you down – we kin all give our word on dat."

"I am not willing to take your word."

"Then you had better clear out and leave us alone," said Dick, sharply.

"Don't get too dictatorial, young man."

"I mean what I say. We did you a favor, and you have made yourself as disagreeable as possible. Now the sooner you take yourself off, the better we shall be pleased."

"Bound to make me your enemy, eh?"

"I think you have made yourself that already."

"Be it so, but – " Joseph Farvel paused. "Beware how any of you cross my path – that's all."

"Oh, pshaw! I never did like melodramatics," cried Bob. "The world is wide enough for us. You go your way, and let us go ours."

"Answer me one question. Are you travelling with Robert Menden?"

"We are resting at present."

"You know what I mean."

"We have nothing more to say," said Dick. "Now leave us alone."

Joseph Farvel's face grew blacker than ever. "Be it so," he muttered. "But remember what I said about crossing my path." And then he turned away, taking his two negro companions with him. In a few minutes a turn in the trail took him out of the sight of the three boys.

"I don't know whether we did right or wrong," observed Dick, doubtfully. "I reckon he knows now pretty nearly how matters stand."

"I wonder if he will meet Menden and the others on the trail," said Bob. "I hope not."

"If dey meet, dare will be a fight, an' I know it," put in Danny. "Dat feller is a bad egg, if ever dare was one."

A half hour dragged by slowly. It was now quite dark and the boys began to think that the others would not be back.

Suddenly a shot rang through the stillness of the night air, followed by two others.

"Gracious! what does that mean?" demanded Bob, leaping up.

"Perhaps it's the fight Danny mentioned," answered Dick, grimly. He looked at his pistol. "I've a good mind to walk down the trail and investigate."

"You may walk right into danger, Dick."

"I'll risk it. You and Danny remain here until I get back. There is no use in all of us going."

A few seconds later Dick was off on his mission.

CHAPTER XIX

LOST IN THE FOREST

Dick felt that he must advance with caution, having no desire to meet Joseph Farvel again, if it could be avoided.

"I may be able to help Menden and the others more by keeping out of sight," he reasoned. "If a fight is going on, I'll try to tackle the rascal from the rear."

No more shots reached his ears, and only the cries of the night birds disturbed him as he advanced slowly up the mountain path.

It was a dangerous trail in spots, and he moved forward slowly. His pistol was in his pocket, but right where he could lay his hand upon it if necessary.

Dick had gone a distance of two hundred yards when he came to a spot where the trail appeared to split into two parts.

"Here's trouble," he muttered. "Which path shall I follow?"

Getting down on his hands and knees he made an examination of the dirt and the brush on both sides. By the aid of a match he made out several footprints leading to the left. "I'll take that," he concluded, as the match began to burn his fingers and was dropped.

On he went again, the trail now leading over some rough rocks overlooking a second valley covered with thick timber. On the opposite side of the trail was a cliff, and the footpath was not over two feet wide.

How it happened, Dick could never tell afterward, quite clearly. He slipped and stumbled, and like a flash began to roll down the incline leading to the valley. Over and over he went like a barrel, and then came a drop, through some brush into a hollow filled with dead leaves and moss. In a few seconds he had travelled several hundred feet.

Beyond a rude shaking up, he was not hurt in the least; and as soon as he could catch his breath he picked himself up and tried to climb out of the hollow. All was pitch dark around him.

"This is a pickle, truly," he groaned. "I might better have remained with Bob and Danny."

But now was no time "to cry over spilt milk," as the popular saying is. He must get back to the trail somehow.

But getting back was not so easy. On leaving the hollow he became turned around in the darkness, and it was not long before he was hopelessly mixed up. In his endeavor to pick his way up the mountainside, he plunged deeper and deeper into the forest, until all at once the full realization of his situation burst upon him like a flash.

He was lost!

Lost in that veritable jungle, which appeared to stretch out for miles on every side of him. The tall tropical trees were everywhere, festooned with monstrous vines, while below grew the dank moss and fungi, the home of countless beetles, ants, spiders and other insects. No wonder Dick shivered. It was a situation to make any heart quail.

"If it was only daylight," he thought. "But it's as black as ink, and I haven't got so much as a lantern."

He felt in his pocket. He had still two matches left and he drew them forth. Trying one, he found it had no head.

"Only one match that is good," he said, half aloud. "I had better find the driest kind of wood before I strike it."

He searched around for several minutes, for dry wood was scarce in a spot where all seemed so damp for the want of sunshine. At last he struck the match on a stone.

It flashed up, sputtered – and went out. In vain he tried to light it again – it would not give forth a single spark.