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

"'Hank Shorer means to keep his word,' said the engineer. 'He vowed four years ago to do me and the express. Where's the head constable?'

"The officer was not at hand, but soon a posse of men from town were marshalled together under the leadership of the conductor, a man of fifty, with an iron will and, so I was told by an outsider, one who could shoot as straight as anybody in the country.

"Tired out as I was, I still could not resist the temptation to board the train as a passenger, after sending a man with a wagon back for Rexwell.

"We pulled out of the station with exactly twenty-six armed men on board. In the cab were the engineer and the fireman, each with a rifle at his elbow. It was still raining, although not as heavily as before.

"Down the glistening tracks pounded big No. 657, which had drawn the express for three years. Women and children had been left behind, and the face of each man bore a look of determination and alertness. They meant to teach the train wreckers a severe lesson, and, if possible, break up the notorious gang which had terrorized the country for many months.

"The flash of a red light ahead! It was the signal to halt. The engineer set his teeth. One hand went to the lever, the other to the gun. The struggle was at hand. The long train slowed up, and came to a halt fifty feet ahead of the spot where the danger signal had been seen.

"'Up with your hands there!' came the command from two masked men, who leaped aboard the tender and faced those in the cab. At the same instant the remainder of the gang surrounded the train and began to board the cars.

"A single shot rang out, followed by a dozen reports. Then came groans and more shots.

"'We've been betrayed!' yelled a voice from beside the coach in which I stood. 'Make for the hosses, boys!'

"It was the voice of Shorer. Hardly had he uttered the command, than the conductor of the train took careful aim at the man and pulled the trigger of his heavy rifle. There was a shriek, a half-leap into the misty air, and the career of the most notorious train wrecker in that section was closed forever.

"I was not left undisturbed. At the beginning of the encounter a bullet had shattered the window glass beside me. In return for this I used my own weapon, and succeeded in wounding one of the gang outside, in the leg. Five others were wounded, and the remainder ran off as fast as they could to where their horses were tethered in a nearby grove.

"'To the horses!' cried one of the posse from Wheatland, and a rush was made for the express coach, in which half a dozen trusty animals had been brought along. A gangplank was put out, the horses brought forth, and in less than three minutes the riders were in the saddle and in hot pursuit of the fleeing criminals.

"The dead body of Shorer was picked up and taken on board, along with his wounded comrades. On the run back to town one of the wounded men died. The others were taken to the county jail.

"By the time Rexwell arrived, I had cooled off somewhat, although I was still far from being thoroughly calm. Both of us were surrounded, and we had to tell our story from beginning to end.

"By nightfall of the next day the horsemen came back with two additional prisoners, who were also jailed. The others of the gang escaped for the time, though I have since heard that they were captured out in Wales.

"For the part we had played in the memorable incident narrated, Rexwell and I were well rewarded, both by the railroad and the express company. But, while the reward was a highly acceptable one, I had no desire for another such adventure while touring on my wheel."

CHAPTER VIII

A FIRE AT SEA

"Well, that's one of the greatest bicycle stories I ever heard!" cried Dick, when Robert Menden had concluded. "I reckon those train wreckers deserved their fate."

"I don't like to think of the affair, to tell the truth," replied the Englishman. "For a good many nights after it happened I scarcely slept a wink."

"I believe you," put in Leander. "No wonder you gave up wheeling. Anyway, it isn't as popular in England as it is here, is it?"

"Hardly; although you see more wheels in England every day," concluded Robert Menden.

Old Jacob had listened to the story with as much interest as any of the boys. "Tell ye what," he said, reflectively, "he kin spin a yarn slicker nor most sailors kin, an' thet's saying a whole lot," and Dick agreed with the old tar.

The next day as the wind died down a bit, the boys went fishing in earnest. They used several kinds of bait, and were rewarded with several bass, two bluefish and several other specimens of the finny tribe, all of which were turned over to Danny.

"Dat's enough fish fer a week," was the Irish lad's comment. "Ain't dat bluefish a stunner!" and he held up the catch which had been brought in on Leander's line. The bluefish was done to a turn for supper, and never had anything tasted more delicious.

The boys had brought their faithful old dog, Dash, along, and this animal came in for a good share of attention.

"You see, we couldn't think of leaving him behind," explained Dick to the Englishman. "He went with us on that other outing, and he's as much a member of the club as Danny or any of us;" and Dash stood by, and wagged his tail, as if he understood perfectly what was being said.

"Dash and Dashaway!" laughed Robert Menden. "A good pair, truly;" and he patted the canine on the back. Dash took this very soberly, for he was rather slow in making new friends. But once a friend was made, the dog would stick to him through thick and thin, as Robert Menden found out later on.

Old Jacob and the others had studied the chart closely, and a direct course had been mapped out for San Juan, the capital city of Porto Rico, situated nearly in the center of the northern coast. This course would take them close to the great Bahama Bank and past many of the Bahama Islands.

"Are you sure you know the course?" questioned Dick of the old tar. "You know we don't want to be smashed up on some hidden rock."

"I know every mile of the way," returned old Jacob. "Don't ye fear, lad, but what I'll git ye through in safety;" and this speech relieved Dick a good deal, for he understood only too well how dangerous were the waters they were now sailing.

As they proceeded on their course, the boys questioned Robert Menden regarding the location of the caves, one which was supposed to contain the treasure.

"They are almost directly south of San Juan," said the Englishman. "The distance must be twenty or twenty-five miles. I think we can learn all we want to know on that score when we reach San Juan."

"Well, we can't get there any too quick for me," put in Bob. "I'm just crazy to locate that money box."

"I understand there is a grand military road from San Juan on the north to Ponce on the south," observed Leander. "The road travels over mountains over four thousand feet high. More than likely this road passes near the big caves."

For two days the wind blew at a lively rate and then toward night it seemed to die out utterly. They were now down to 24° north latitude, and the atmosphere was stifling.

"Finding that treasure is going to be hot work," observed Dick, as he mixed glasses of iced lemonade for himself and the others. "I reckon we'll earn what we get."

"How would you like to sail up to the frozen North?" suggested Leander.

"Well, we stood the ice and snow all right enough last winter."

"So we did. But still, I don't mind this so very much."

By nine o'clock in the evening all hands were ready to retire. But it was Bob's trick on deck, and after receiving careful instructions from old Jacob as to how he should keep the yacht headed, he was left to himself.

There was no moon, but the sky was clear, and countless stars shone down upon the polished deck of the Dashaway, so that everything could be seen quite clearly.

"Four hours of this will just about do me," thought Bob. He did not wish to own up to being sleepy, and to keep his eyes open he began to whistle softly to himself.

It was nearly eleven o'clock when the whistle died out and the boy gave a long yawn. Oh, if his trick would only come to an end! He knew that once in his bunk he would go fast asleep in less than a minute.

A few minutes more passed, and the tired boy leaned up against the brass-bound wheel. Then he straightened up and tried to whistle again. But the note died on his lips and then – he knew no more.

Bump! The shock awoke everybody on board, but no one quicker than old Jacob, who slept, as Dick expressed it, "with one eye open."

"What's the matter?" roared the Yankee tar, as he tumbled on deck, minus his shoes and the greater portion of his wearing apparel. "By gosh, Bob, ye air running her on the rocks!" and he ran with might and main for the wheel.

The shock had also aroused Bob, but the youth was too bewildered for a few seconds to do more than stare helplessly about him.

"Why – er – what – " he began, when the sight of a long line of breakers, coming over some hidden rocks dead ahead, almost paralyzed him.

He tried to throw the Dashaway over to starboard and then over to port, and the consequence of the two movements was to send the craft straight ahead as before.