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

He was almost exhausted, and for several minutes could do little but pant and hold on.

He had not the slightest idea where he was, saving that he had reached some lower shaft of the gigantic cave.

His companions must be above him, but how far, there was no telling.

His heart sank within his breast and he felt like giving himself up for lost.

"I can't swim back," he thought, as he remembered how that mad current had hurled him onward.

Ten minutes passed. He felt around for his torch, but it was nowhere within reach.

Then he got a firmer hold on the rock with one hand, while with the other he pulled a match-safe from his pocket.

Luckily the safe was a water-proof one, and the contents were, therefore, dry. Soon he had a lucifer lit, and by its tiny light he sprang to the shore of the stream.

There were some odds and ends of driftwood there – grass and bits of tree twigs – and of these he made a little fire. Then he bethought himself and set up a yell.

But as we know, his cries were not heard, and no answering call came back. The only sound that broke the stillness was that of the water as it took a plunge downward at one end of the opening he had entered.

"I guess I'm in a trap," he muttered. "But I must get out somehow. Oh, God, help me to get out!"

The prayer was repeated over and over again, and at last the boy grew calmer. Then he took the flaring driftwood in his hands and set out on a tour of inspection.

The chamber he had entered was not over twenty feet wide by three times as long. To one side the roof sloped downward, and here there appeared to be another opening, running to some higher level.

"Anyway to get out," thought Dick, and scrambled up the slope. It was rough, and more than once he went down; but he picked himself up quickly and went on.

The upper chamber gained, the youth saw before him a long and winding gallery, moving gradually to a still higher level. Should he follow this?

Again he prayed for Divine aid, and then went on, over loose rocks and across ugly cracks. The driftwood had nearly burnt itself out, and his fingers were blistered in several places from holding it. Soon he would be in darkness again, and what should he do, then? He looked around for something more that might be lighted, but nothing showed itself.

On and on, and still on, following one turn after another. Now the driftwood had flickered down to the last dead twig. He tried to save the tiny flame – but with a flicker it went out – and all became as black as night around him – yes, even blacker than night.

He sank down on a rock, almost stunned. All of the stories of people lost in caves and coal mines that he had ever heard about, crossed his mind – how they had wandered about for days without food and drink and light, to be found at last either dead or jibbering idiots. He felt that it would not take much to turn him crazy.

How long he remained on the rock he could never tell. At last, like one in a dream, he got up and ran – ran as hard as he could, as though a legion of demons were after him – along one rocky wall and another. His outstretched hands and good fortune saved him from many a nasty bump, and thus fully a mile was covered, when he fell down so exhausted he could not go another step.

"I'm buried alive!" he cried aloud; and a thousand echoes answered him: "Buried alive – alive – alive!" Then a strange vision came to him of untold horrors – snakes, demons, falling rocks and great torrents of water – and he fell flat in terror, and fainted.

When Dick came to his senses he leaped up, then sank back exhausted. Clearly he was out of his mind – for he thought that he was in a beautiful palace, and that a fairy of gold was dancing before him. Then the fairy seemed to motion him to come on, and he moved along slowly and painfully for fully a quarter of a mile. Presently the vision left him, and he sank down once again, only to get up when he was able, and run, he knew not where.

Ha! what was that? a light, or only another hallucination? No, no, it was a light – a spot of sunshine, streaming in from some opening overhead. He gave a shout of joy. Oh, to be free once more! Never, never, would he enter that cave again.

It was some time before he could locate the opening. Then to get to it was difficult. But the light gave him a superhuman strength, and up he went, over one rock after another, climbing a height that would have made him dizzy had he been able to see his way.

At last the opening was gained. It lay between two immense rocks, and he had all he could do to squeeze through. When he came into the outer air, the first thing that he noticed was that the sun was rising, not setting. He had been underground all night!

He looked at himself. He was thoroughly soaked, and covered with mud and a sort of soot. His face and hands were as dirty as his clothing.

"But I don't care," he murmured, half aloud. "Thank God I am safe! Oh, what an adventure that was!"

Not far away was a mountain spring, and here Dick got a drink, and then washed himself. He had no idea in what direction the camp lay.

"I wonder what the others thought when I disappeared," he mused. "I'll wager they felt pretty bad, Bob especially. Won't they be surprised to see me safe and sound!"

He was close to the very top of the mountain, and resolved to make a circle around the summit and see if he could not locate the camp.

Travelling here was easy, for the bushes grew but scatteringly, and there were hardly any trees. Presently he reached a slight eminence, and from this point made out the smoke of a camp-fire.

"That must be our camp," he said to himself, and struck off in the direction. Soon he was in the midst of the jungle, but managed to keep a straight course. Now his scare was over, he felt very hungry, but could not bring himself to stop for anything to eat.

"Danny shall supply me," was his thought. "I know he'll be only too glad to give me the best on hand."

The jungle passed, he came to a small clearing overlooking a deep valley. The camp-fire was just ahead. Not a soul was in sight.

"Have they gone on a hunt for me?" he mused, when of a sudden a man leaped upon him and bore him to the ground with ease. The man was Joseph Farvel.

"Turn about is fair play, I reckon," growled the rascal. "Didn't expect to run across me, did you?"

"Let go of me," cried Dick.

"Oh, I'll let go," was the sarcastic rejoinder. "You had lots of mercy on me, didn't you?"

"You started the quarrel, Joseph Farvel."

"Did I? I reckon not. You did that – when you came here after the treasure that belongs to me. Tell me – has your party found anything yet?"

"I won't tell you a word."

"I'll make you!"

"You can't do it."

"Can't I? We'll see. Come."

With brutal force the man dragged the weak and worn-out lad to his camp. With some handy vines he bound Dick's hands behind him, and then fastened the youth to a slanting rock. The rock was thin and set up against a second rock, leaving an opening like the letter A beneath.

Into the opening Farvel kicked the burning embers of the fire, and then heaped on more fuel.

"Now we'll see how you feel when your legs begin to get warm," he cried. "I reckon those vines will not catch for quite awhile, they are that green."

"Would you burn me?" cried Dick, in horror.

"And why not?"

"You are as bad as the savage Indians used to be!"

"I mean to have my rights," growled Farvel. "Now if you have anything to tell me, out with it."