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

For the moment Dick felt like crying; he had laid such a store by the looked-for light, which would give him a fire and make him otherwise comfortable. It looked as if he must spend the remainder of the night in darkness.

But then a new thought came to him, and he brought out his handkerchief and tore from it several small strips, which he pulled apart and rolled into a loose ball. Into this he thrust his pistol and pulled the trigger.

The report brought a blaze of light with it, and instantly the linen caught and blazed up merrily. Over the ball the youth held several small sticks, and then some larger ones, and soon had a lively fire, which he took good care should not die down for the want of fuel.

But the fire revealed nothing around him but the endless trees and jungle of vines. As the blaze flickered up it cast dancing shadows in all directions, adding to the weirdness of the scene. Dick had been alone before, but he had never felt so lonely in his whole life.

"If I ever get out of this, you won't catch me going off alone again," he thought. "What's to do next?"

That was the absorbing question; but the only answer he could give was to throw himself down by the fire and fall into an idle speculation. He had not the least idea how to turn in order to find the trail again.

At last he grew sleepy and his eyes closed in a light doze, from which he gave a start, as a terrifying sound not far off reached his ears.

"Gracious, what's that?" he cried, and took out his pistol.

Soon the sound was repeated – a half grunt, half squeal – and then a dark object loomed up among the tree ahead of him. Two eyes shone steadily out of the darkness.

With his nerves at their topmost tension, Dick took hasty aim and fired twice. A furious squeal rent the air and into the circle of light staggered a badly wounded wild hog.

The animal made straight for Dick, as if to knock the boy down or bite him. But there was another cartridge in the revolver, and this finished the porker by cutting through his windpipe. There was a grunt and a dying kick or two, and then all was over.

The attack had been short, but Dick was ready to collapse. "I was afraid it was a bear," he said, in telling of it afterward.

On his former outings, the youth had learned how to skin and carve almost any animal, and now he drew out his clasp knife and went to work, more to keep himself awake than anything, for he was afraid to go to sleep again. Some of the pork fat he threw on the fire, which now blazed up more brightly than ever.

Slowly the night wore away, until, looking at his watch the youth saw that it lacked but a short while to sunrise. Already the birds were tuning up, while the croaking of the frogs stopped as it grew lighter in the east.

As soon as it was daylight, Dick cut off several pork chops and broiled them over the fire for breakfast, washing down the meat with a drink from a pool in the hollow. Then he resolved to climb one of the tallest of the trees, to take a general view of his situation.

Climbing came easy to him, especially as the tree he selected had numerous branches, some growing quite closely to the ground. Once in the top, he was enabled to see a goodly distance on all sides of him.

Over to his left was the valley, with the river, where he had left Bob and Danny. To the right was the mountain, and almost in front of him the slope down which he had rolled so unceremoniously.

"Not a soul in sight," he mused, when some objects moving along the trail caught his eye. He watched them for several minutes and distinguished three men – a white man and two blacks.

"Can it be Joseph Farvel and his helper and guide?" he asked himself; and finally concluded that it must be the party mentioned.

He determined to watch them, to see how they would head. They were coming from the mountain, and as they came closer he saw that they no longer carried their ropes and torches.

Presently the three men disappeared, at the point in the trail which was nearest to Dick. He waited for them to reappear, but nobody came to view.

"It's queer where they went to," he thought, and continued to watch. At last he grew tired, and determined to see if he could not find his way back to where he had left Bob and Danny, certain that they would not go on until they heard from him.

Now that the sun was up it was an easy matter for Dick to strike a straight path. Before setting out, he cut off a good-sized piece of pork, satisfied that his chums would enjoy a change in diet.

Dick's journey took him along a bit of rocky ground and then through a deep hollow, where the brush was so thick he could scarcely fight his way along. Indeed, once he grew so tangled up he had to use his pocketknife in clearing himself, while the briars tore his clothing in several places.

"I want no more Porto Rican jungles after this," he muttered. "One experience is enough. If we ever lay hands on that treasure, it won't be worth any more than the trouble of getting it."

A number of birds were flying over his head, and had he been out for sport with a shotgun he could have brought down several bagsful of the saucy creatures, which even dared to circle directly before his face. But with Joseph Farvel so close at hand he did not deem it prudent to fire his pistol even in fun.

The end of the jungle reached, Dick came out into an open patch probably a hundred feet in circumference. It was covered with moss, and unsuspicious of danger he started to cross to the other side.

But the moss only covered one of the most treacherous of bogs, and the youth had scarcely covered fifteen feet of the distance than he sank up to his ankles in the sticky soil. Growing alarmed, he tried to turn back, only to find himself glued to the spot, and sinking deeper and deeper with every movement made to extricate himself.

CHAPTER XX

AN UNPLEASANT TALK

"What shall I do now?"

Dick asked himself the question several times. Here he was up to the knees in the bog and unable to stir either foot an inch forward or backward.

In vain he caught at the moss around him. It came up in his hands, revealing only more muck, black, slippery and pasty.

"If I stay here much longer I'll be planted for good," he groaned. "Oh, I must get out somehow!"

He struggled again and pulled with might and main upon one foot. But as that member came up, the other went down just so much deeper, and in new alarm he set down both feet again, to find himself now almost up to his waist.

His struggles had disturbed several swamp crabs – dirty and ugly looking creatures, peculiar to Porto Rico and other West India Islands. They crawled all around him, hissing viciously and glaring at him with their hard, beady eyes. When he shouted at them, however, they scuttled off as fast as their long legs permitted.

The time that followed was an age to Dick, who could not think of a thing to do. But he did think of something else – snakes – and wondered if any were at hand.

"If they come this way I'll be a goner!" he shuddered. Then he raised his voice and called out, not once, but again and again, until his throat grew husky from his exertions.

At last he heard an answering shout and his heart gave a bound of joy. But then it sank almost as much as before, as he saw Joseph Farvel approaching, accompanied by one of his black guides.

"Who calls?" cried Farvel, and then caught sight of him. "You!"

"Yes, Farvel. Please help me out of this?"

"How did you get into such a box?"

"I tried to pass over the moss, not dreaming of what was underneath. Will you help me?"

"Where are your companions?"

"I left them at the camp where you first saw us."

"I don't mean the boys. I mean Robert Menden and those who went off with him."

"I don't know where they are."

"Where did they go yesterday afternoon?"

"I don't know."

Joseph Farvel's face darkened into that ugly look which Dick had before noticed.