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

No answer came back, although they listened with strained ears. All was as silent as a tomb.

And was that to prove poor Dick's grave? Silently they asked themselves the question, as one looked at another, all with blanched faces.

"I'd rather lose the fortune," said Don, voicing the sentiment of all.

"Give me that other rope, lads," exclaimed old Jacob. "I'll go down for him."

He stepped upon the burning end of rope and put it out. Then the reserve coil was fastened on, and he tied the end under his arms and lit another torch.

"Don't set the rope afire again," cautioned Bob. He could scarcely trust himself to speak.

"No danger," answered the Yankee sailor. "Let me down carefully now," he added, and disappeared over the edge of the opening.

Down he went until the ledge was reached. Here he paused to survey the situation. Nothing but the loose rocks and the remains of the shattered cedar chest met his gaze.

"Dick! Dick!" he called.

There was no answer, and the look on his face grew more serious than ever. The boy had gone further. But to where?

"Let me down some more," he called up. "But be careful. It's mighty skeery down here."

They promised to be careful, and the rope was let down inch by inch, until old Jacob had reached a point fifteen feet below the ledge.

"That's all the rope we have here," cried Bob.

The Yankee tar remained dangling in midair. On all sides of him were the walls of rock, dripping with moisture. He held the torch down, and saw, far below, the glitter of some dark, underground stream.

Dick had fallen into that. But where was he? The question was one impossible to answer. With care old Jacob took some light string from his pocket and threw it into the water. Like a flash a strong current seized it and carried it under a neighboring wall!

"He's gone, poor boy!" he muttered; and something like a tear stole down his bronzed cheek, for he thought a good deal of the young master of the Dashaway. From the top of the opening he heard Dash set up a dismal howl, as if to confirm his opinion.

It was a sorry crowd that gathered to hear what the old tar might have to say when he came up.

"And you think he was carried away by that stream?" observed Don, sadly.

"No doubt on it, lad. He wasn't in sight, and the water fills the entire bottom of the opening."

"Then he is gone!" gasped Leander, bursting into tears, and little Danny joined in.

"Dat's de wust yet!" sobbed the Irish lad. "I don't want none o' dat gold – now!" And the others felt very much the same way.

"I've a good mind to go down and have a look," said Bob, and insisted upon it despite old Jacob's protestations. But he learned nothing new. Then Don went down, followed by Leander.

The result was the same, and all were forced to believe that poor Dick had been carried off by the underground stream to a watery grave.

By this time Robert Menden was able to sit up, and though still weak, he insisted upon being told about what had happened.

"This is certainly bad," he said. "I suppose I can be thankful that I did not meet a similar fate."

"That's true," answered old Jacob. "But I am not going to give up yet."

"What do you intend to do?"

"Get a longer rope from somewhere and examine thet hole thoroughly. If I only git his body it will be better nor nuthin'."

The matter was talked over for a few minutes, and then old Jacob hurried off alone, to where they had left Joseph Farvel a prisoner.

A surprise awaited the old sailor. In some unaccountable manner, Farvel had become free, and had disappeared.

Under ordinary circumstances old Jacob would have begun an investigation but now other matters filled his head.

Farvel had left the rope which had bound him, and this the old tar appropriated.

Inside of half an hour he was back to where he had left the boys and Robert Menden.

Once more the rope was lengthened, and tested from end to end.

"Now be very careful how you hold it," said old Jacob. "It's no fool of a job to handle sech a long coil. And remember, if I whistle twice, let down; and if I whistle once, pull up. Three whistles, leave the rope as it is."

Once more he went down; first to the ledge and then to the very surface of the underground stream.

He found the water five to six feet deep, and running so strongly, that by going in up to his neck he was carried along so fiercely that the rope almost broke under the tension.

"He has been swept away and thet's the end on it," he muttered; and whistled to the others to hoist him up.

It was an almost silent crowd that bundled the treasure up in the canvas bag and a blanket which had been brought along for that purpose.

"I wish we hadn't come to Porto Rico," whispered Bob to Leander. "What will Dick's folks say of this when we tell them?"

"I'd like to know who is going to break the news," added Leander. "I'm sure I can't do it;" and he gave something like a shiver.

Robert Menden was feeling better, and presently he said he felt strong enough to walk to their camp. He leaned on old Jacob's arm, while the boys carried the treasure between them. The rope was left dangling in the water. "So that poor Dick can use it, if he comes around," as Bob said, clutching at a hope that was vain-less.

Night found them established in a new camp, still sad, and next to silent. They had the treasure safe, but at what a fearful cost.

"It's enough to make one fling it away," sighed Bob. And when Robert Menden began to count up the gold, he turned away, unable to endure the sight.

CHAPTER XXXII

WHAT BECAME OF DICK

"Where on earth, or under the earth, am I now?"

It was Dick who uttered the remark, as he crawled out of the stream, and sat down on a slippery and slimy rock.

The tumble over the ledge had been broken by a fall into the underground stream, and he had been hurled along by the current for a distance of fully two hundred feet.

He had felt that he was drowning and could hold his breath no longer, when he had shot up into pitch dark space, and climbed onto the rock mentioned.