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

CHAPTER XVIII
STRANGERS IN CAMP

"Joseph Farvel!" ejaculated Bob. "Did he see you?"

"I don't think so. The moment I spotted him and his companions I dove out of sight behind a rock. He and the others are carrying quite some baggage, including torches and several ropes."

"Then he is bound for the caves, beyond a doubt."

"True; but he hadn't any rope with him before, so I don't think he has discovered anything yet. More than likely he found out that he couldn't get to where he wanted to go without a rope."

"If dey is comin' over de bridge dey will see dat smoke," put in Danny, as he pointed to the fire – which was now burning low, but still throwing off considerable smoke.

Without delay Bob ran to the fire and kicked it out. But the mischief had already been done, and soon they heard Farvel and the two negroes coming toward them.

Their first impulse was to hide; their second, to stay where they were. "We have done nothing wrong – he can't harm us," said Dick.

"Hullo, my Irish boy!" sung out Farvel, as he caught sight of Danny. "What are you doing here?"

"Sure an' we're restin'," replied Danny, coolly. "How are ye afther feelin' now?"

"Oh, I'm first-rate again." Farvel looked at Dick and Bob. "Did you belong to that party I met this morning?"

"We did."

"I didn't see you."

"We left before you came to your senses."

"Oh, I see."

"Sorry we can't offer you any supper," said Bob. "We just ate the last of what was cooked."

"I've had my supper, thank you," was the short reply. Then the man's face grew dark, and he whipped a handkerchief from his pocket. "Will you tell me who owns that?" he asked, tossing the article over.

"Why dat's Mr. – " began Danny, and stopped short.

"Where did the handkerchief come from?" questioned Dick slowly, hardly knowing what to say.

"It was the one I found bound around my head this morning, when I arrived at Caguas."

"I didn't put it on your head."

"Do you see the initials, R. D. M?" And catching up the handkerchief once more, Joseph Farvel pointed them out.

"What of that? They are not my initials," said Dick.

"Nor mine."

"Dem must be old Rusher's initials," put in Danny, quickly. Dat's his name, Rusher Daniel March."

"Who is Rusher?" and Farvel's face took on a different look.

"You'll have to ask de captain, Mr. What's-your-name."

"My name is Joseph Farvel."

"Well, wot yer making all dis fuss about dat handkerchief for?"

"I know a man who has those initials – Robert Dascott Menden, of London."

"I suppose dare's lot uf fellers has dem same letters, an' why not? I'll turn dat handkerchief over to de rest of de crowd, if yer say so. I see yer got yer head plastered up now."

"What are you going to do with those ropes?" asked Dick, determined to follow up the advantage Danny's ready wit had brought them.

"That is my business."

"Oh, all right. Sorry I spoke."

"I want to know if you met this Robert Menden?"

"Perhaps I had better say that is my business, too," answered Dick, coldly.

"I believe you have met him, and that that is his handkerchief," went on Farvel, sourly.

"All right; think what you please. We did you a good turn this morning, but you are not making us particularly happy over it."

"Oh, if you want pay for what you did, there you are," growled the newcomer; and pulling a couple of silver dollars from his pocket he flung them at Dick.

On the instant Dick's face grew crimson, and he walked up to the man with clenched fists. "You are no gentleman, Joseph Farvel," he cried. "I have seen quite enough of you. The sooner you leave our camp, the better I will be pleased."

"And so will I be pleased," put in Bob.

"An' yer kin take yer money wid yer," added Danny. "We ain't so hard up as yer seem to t'ink."

"You don't dare to answer me about Robert Menden," burst out Joseph Farvel.

"We have no reason to answer any of your questions," said Dick.

"I'll wager all I am worth that he is with the rest of your party."

"And what if that should be true," put in Bob. "Hasn't a man a right to travel where he pleases?"

"Robert Menden has no right to be on the island of Porto Rico, and in this vicinity."

"Why not?"

"Because he is after something that belongs rightfully to me."

"He tells a different story," burst out Bob, momentarily forgetting himself.

"Ha! so you acknowledge at last that he is with you? Take my advice and beware of him."

"I would rather trust him than you," said Dick, bluntly.

"So he has poisoned your minds against me, eh? Very well, that is another score to settle with him. As soon as I catch him I shall have him arrested."

"What for?"

"It was he who knocked me down and robbed me."

"Nonsense; it was a Carib did, that!" cried Bob.

"I do not believe it."

"If Robert Menden knocked you down, would he take the trouble to bind up your wound afterward?"

"He probably got scared, being afraid that he had killed me and must hang for it."

"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.