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

"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.

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.

"I want a true answer, boy!"

"I have told you the truth."

"You know as well as I what brought Robert Menden to this island and this locality."

"Well?"

"I want to know just where he went yesterday afternoon."

"I don't know. I wasn't with him, and I haven't seen him since yesterday morning."

"He didn't return to your camp?"

"I can't say that either. I left my friends, wandered off, and got lost in these woods, and I've been here all night, although not in this swamp."

"Humph!" Farvel mused for a moment and sat down on a fallen tree. "Can you tell me how Menden got to Porto Rico?"

"Aren't you going to help me out?"

"I will – if you'll answer my questions."

"He was picked up out of the ocean by some folks on a yacht, and those folks brought him to San Juan."

"Do you know what he had to say for himself when he was picked up?"

"He thinks he was shoved overboard from the steamship."

At this Joseph Farvel started, but as quickly recovered, and gave a hollow, unnatural laugh.

"Robert Menden always was full of queer ideas. He was sick, and even the captain of the steamship thought he acted queerly. You know his story, but you don't know mine. What both of us are after here belongs to me."

"I guess it will belong to the first man who finds it."

Joseph Farvel grated his teeth. "It belongs to me – and I will have it. Now tell me where Menden is at this moment."

"I haven't the least idea."

"You want me to rescue you, don't you?"

"Would you be inhuman enough to leave me to such a fate as this?" demanded Dick, in horror.

"You got yourself in this box – I had nothing to do with it. How can you expect me to help you if you are not willing to help me?"

"I can do nothing for you, Joseph Farvel. But I would not leave a dog in such a helpless situation as this."

"I would – if the dog stood ready to do me an injury – and that is what you are ready to do, in helping Robert Menden."

So speaking, Farvel withdrew to a distance and consulted in a low tone with the Carib who accompanied him.

The negro nodded, and then both hurried away through the wood at the top of their speed, leaving Dick once more alone.

If the youth had been downcast before he was doubly so now. He was up to his armpits in the swamp, and such a thing as getting out alone was entirely out of the question.

But now something welcome broke upon his ears. From afar came the bark of a dog. It was Dash, who had been sent to follow up his trail; and a few minutes later the faithful animal came into appearance from the direction of the wood where the boy had spent the night.

"Dash! Good dog!" cried Dick, and Dash came bounding toward him. Luckily the dog was not so heavy but that the moss would support him, although he had to move around with care.

"Are you alone, Dash?" asked Dick, and the dog set up a lone howl, at the same time pointing his nose into the air.

"Bring Bob, Dash! Bob or Leander, Dash. Bob! Leander! Run, Dash, go!" And understanding perfectly, the intelligent canine started off at a loping gait across the valley and over to the camp by the river.

To Dick it seemed that Dash would never come back. The sun mounted higher and higher in the sky until it poured directly down upon the youth. He was tremendously thirsty and would have given almost anything for a drink of water.

He had sunk lower, so now only his head was above the top of the swamp. The water was beginning to collect about him, and he felt that before sunset he must drown, if he were not rescued. Oh, how bitterly he regretted having attempted to cross the quagmire.

What was that? Dash's bark again, and he set up a faint shout. Then he listened and heard the voices of Bob and old Jacob, and once more his hopes revived as by a shock.

"This way, Bob! This way, Jacob! Hurry up!" he called, and then his friends came into view.

"Oh, Dick, what a situation!" ejaculated Bob. "Can't you help yourself?"

"Not a bit."

"We must be a-doin' somethin' fer him, an' mighty quick, too," burst out old Jacob. "It's a lucky thing I've got this rope with me," and he pointed to a long coil suspended over his shoulder.

How to rescue Dick from his unpleasant situation was a problem; but the old sailor finally solved it by climbing a large tree which overlooked the swamp close to where Dick was a prisoner. Crawling far out on a stout branch, he threw one end of his rope to the unfortunate boy.

Dick caught the rope with difficulty.

"Can ye tie it under yer arms?" asked old Jacob.

"I'll try," was the reply.

It was a difficult undertaking, and by the time it was accomplished the youth was up to his chin in the dirty water which was collecting in the quagmire.

"All ready!" he shouted feebly.

At once old Jacob began to pull away. "Wish I had a single tackle," he panted. "A straight haul o' this sort ain't no easy job."

Bob had climbed into the tree to help him, yet he could do but little, old Jacob being afraid that the limb would break down with their combined weights, added to the strain from the rope, which was now drawn as tight as a washline.

"Perhaps it will break," shouted Dick, warningly; but the rope had been selected with great care, and it held well. A long pull, and Dick began to leave the quagmire, the rope pressing against him as if to cut him in two.

"Hurrah! he's coming!" shouted Bob, presently, and he was right. With a sudden sucking sound, Dick left the muck and water behind, and then, held up by the rope, stepped quickly to a place of safety; and the rescue had been accomplished.

CHAPTER XXI

THE SEARCH FOR THE SPANISH TREASURE

For a quarter of an hour after reaching a place of safety Dick could only lay on the ground panting for breath and trying to regain his strength.

His lower limbs were cramped and swollen, and when he finally stood up, his feet felt as though a thousand needles were piercing them.

"Never mind; you'll be all right by to-morrow," said old Jacob, kindly. "I'm glad we found ye in time."

"So am I, Jacob. I think, though, that Dash deserves a good bit of praise;" and he patted the dog affectionately on the head.

While resting, Dick told of the encounter with Joseph Farvel. Then he asked what had become of Menden and the others.

"They are all in camp up on the mountainside," answered Bob. "They made a tour of one small cave yesterday, but found nothing. We were all going out to-day, but went off on a hunt for you instead."

"If Robert Menden is smart he will lose no time. Joseph Farvel means to get that treasure if he can."

"Well, I reckon it's going to be a neck and neck race," said Bob. "All I hope is, that Menden proves to be the winner."

It was not until sunset that Dick found himself in the new camp. All were glad to see him and listened with deep interest to the story he had to relate.

"You have received a taste of the sort of man Farvel is," was Robert Menden's comment. "Do you wonder now why I thoroughly dislike the fellow?"

"No, I don't wonder," answered Dick; "and after this I'm going to try harder than ever to keep that treasure out of his reach."

That night both Dick and Danny slept soundly and in the morning felt once more like themselves. It was resolved that in the future, if it was possible to do so, the whole party should keep together.

"And one man must remain on guard constantly," added Robert Menden. "If not, Joseph Farvel may treat us to a disagreeable surprise."

The party had, the day before, explored a small cave but a short distance from the river. It was now decided to let Remora take them to the great Dark Cave.

The path was a winding, tortuous one, and they had to proceed with great care, especially as all wanted to avoid even the semblance of another mishap.

It was clear, and from one point where they stopped to take a rest they could see for miles. Far away to the north they beheld the church spires of San Juan, and beyond the rolling sea, shining brightly in the sunlight. On all sides were the rolling hills and sharp-backed mountains, clothed in living green of all shades.

"What an immense island for stock raising!" murmured Leander. "A fellow could have thousands of heads of cattle here. Just look at the thickness of the grass."

"This land will all be given over to coffee and sugar plantations in time," said Robert Menden. "Nine people out of ten care to raise nothing else."

They were resting under a big calabash tree laden with green fruit. Now they resumed their journey, through brush and stubble, for the trail had gradually scattered and been lost.

At last they approached a cliff all of two hundred feet in height. Before the cliff were great piles of rocks, overgrown with vines and gray moss. Behind one mass of rocks was a yawning hole not over six feet square.

"Dat is one of de doors to de Dark Cave," announced Carlos Remora. "Now we light torch, please you;" and they halted while he fired up. The torch was a stick several feet in length and smeared over with a sticky gum. Carlos carried several, and all of the others had at least one apiece, tied over his shoulder, and all carried a goodly supply of matches in addition.

The descent into the cave was a gradual one for forty or fifty feet. Beyond the opening the cavern broadened out and became much higher. At the end of the descent there was a drop of a few feet, and after this the flooring proved quite level for over half a mile.

"Have a care of de birds!" shouted Remora. He meant the bats, which were circling in all directions over their heads. Near the entrance the Dark Cave is filled with them, and sometimes they brush against the visitor with their skinny wings, producing anything but a pleasant sensation. It was a bat which had knocked out the eye of the native before mentioned.

On they went, over a flooring of dark stone, reeking with wet, mould and slime. Overhead hung stalactites of lime rock, tinged with various colors from the minerals which lie hidden in these mountains of Porto Rico. In one spot a stalactite had fallen, and they picked it up and brushed it off, to find it of a rainbow hue, beautiful beyond description.

"I should think those stalactites would alone be worth something," observed Bob. "They would make beautiful house ornaments, were they properly cleaned."

"They wouldn't stand the outer air long," answered Dick. "Such rock never does."

"Great Cæsar! what a cave!" exclaimed Don, after they had been travelling for a mile or more. "This is a regular underground world."

"You have not seen it all yet, señor," replied Carlos Remora. "Da werry long, werry broad."

All had their eyes open as they advanced, looking for a long, flat stone, with a cross cut upon it and the initials M. M. M.

Robert Menden had questioned Remora on this point, but the Porto Rican had assured him that he had never seen such a stone, and added that he doubted if there were any carvings in the cave. "Only werry few come here," he had concluded. "Most men afraid of de dark."