A MERE ANNE ARUNDEL GUST.
Then they found Dorothy's note.
"Dear boys and Captain:
"We've gone on to Ottawotta Run. Farmer Stillwell's tug,
that he owns half of, is towing us to the Branch. There some
more men will be hired to pole us to Deer-Copse. Aunt Betty
says you're to hire a wagon, or horses, or somebody to bring
you and the Stem after us. She will pay for it, or I will,
that's just the same. And, oh! I can't wait to tell you!
There's a _buried treasure_ up there that we must find! A
regular 'Captain Kidd' sort, you know, so just hurry up--I
mean take it easy, as Auntie advises; but come, and do it
quick! Don't forget to bring the fish. Mrs. Bruce says put
them in a basket and trail them after you, if you come by
boat; or, anyway, try to keep them fresh for breakfast.
Dolly."
"I reckon they'll keep, seeing they aren't caught yet. What fools we
were to go off just then! How do you suppose, in this mortal world,
those women and girls had gumption enough to run away with that
house-boat? I'll bet they did it just to get ahead of _me_, 'cause I'd
said plain enough I wouldn't go to any old hole-in-the-woods. I simply
wouldn't. And I shan't. I'll get passage on one these fruit-scows
going back to Baltimore and quit the whole thing. I will so;" declared
Gerald, fuming about the wharf in a fine rage.
"Got money left for your 'passage?'" asked Jim. He was pondering how
best and soonest to "follow" the Water Lily, as he had been bid. They
were all too tired with their rowing to do any more of it that day,
and his pride shrank from hiring a wagon, for his own convenience,
that he wasn't able to pay for.
"What about your monkey, Gerry?" queried Melvin.
"Oh! I'll--I mean--you take it off my hands till--later."
"No, thank you. I've invested all I can afford in monkeys just now,
don't you know? But I'd sell out, only I do want to give them to her.
She's such a darling of a girl, to entertain us like this. She might
have been born in our Province, I fancy, she's so like a Canadian in
kindness and generosity."
It was a long speech for modest Melvin and an enthusiastic one. He
blushed a little as he felt his comrades' eyes turned teasingly upon
him, but he did not retract his words. He added to them:
"Dorothy Calvert makes me think of my mother, don't you know? And a
girl that does that is an all right sort I fancy. Anyway, I've thought
lots of times, since I found out it was she and not the rich aunt who
was paying the expenses of our jaunt, that it was mighty unselfish of
her to do it. Jim's let that 'cat out the bag.' He was too top-lofty
to take a cent of profit from that mine he discovered last summer for
Mr. Ford, but all the girls were made small shareholders and got three
hundred dollars a-piece for a send-off. Miss Molly, whose father I
work for, put hers right into gew-gaws or nonsense, but I think
Dolly's done better. The least I can do to show her my appreciation is
to give her the monkeys."
"Speak for yourself, sir, please. Half that monkey transaction is
mine, and I don't intend to impoverish myself for any girl. I mean to
train them till they're worth a lot of money, then sell them."
"Oh! no you won't. You're not half bad, don't you know? You like to
talk something fierce but it's _talk_. If it isn't, pick out your own
monk and be off with it. You'll have to leave me the cage for Dorothy
because she'll have to keep _my_ monk, _her_ monk, _the_ monk in it
sometimes."
"Most of the times I guess. I don't like the looks of the creatures
anyway. They're ugly. I wish you fellows had left them on that
sailor's hands. He just befooled us with his big talk. Why, sir, I
got so interested myself I'd have hired out to any ship would have me
if it had come along just then. Queer, ain't it? The way just _talk_
can change a fellow's mind," said Jim. "Hello, Cap'n! What you found
now?"
The old man had been limping about on the bank where Billy had enjoyed
himself, and which his teeth had shorn smooth as a mowing machine
might have done. It was a field rarely used, which explains why Billy
and Methuselah had been left to do as they pleased there. So Metty had
carried thither all the trifling toys and playthings he had picked up
during his trip. Shells, curious stones, old nails, a battered
jew's-harp, and a string of buttons, had been stored in an old basket
which the pickaninny called his playhouse.
The playhouse caught the old man's eye and the end of his crutch as
well, and he glared angrily upon the "trash" which had come in his
way. Also, he lifted the crutch and flung Metty's treasures broadcast.
Among them was an old wallet, still securely strapped with a bit of
leather. Captain Jack had a notion he'd seen that wallet before, but
couldn't recall where. Opening it he drew out a yellowed bit of
old-fashioned letter-paper on which a rude picture was sketched. There
were a few written words at the bottom of the sketch, but "readin'
handwrite" was one of the accomplishments the good captain disdained.
But his curiosity was aroused and he whistled to the lads to join him,
holding up the paper as an inducement. They did so, promptly, and Jim
took the extended paper, thinking it was another note from the absent
"Lilies," as the house-boat company had named itself.
Then he, too, whistled, and cried:
"Hello! Here's a find! Has something to do with that fool talk o'
Dolly's about 'buried treasure.' Somebody's been bamboozlin' her and
this is part of it."
The four heads bent together above the odd little document, which had
been folded and unfolded so often it was quite frayed in places with
even some of the writing gone.
The drawing represented a bit of woodland, with a stream flowing past,
and a ford indicated at one point, with animals drinking. It was
marked by the initials of direction, N, S, E, W; and toward the latter
point a zig-zag line suggested a path. The path ended at the root of a
tree whose branches grew into something like the semblance of a cross.
Unfortunately, the writing was in French, a language not one
understood. But, found as it was, evidently lost by somebody who had
valued it, and taken in conjunction with Dorothy's words--"buried
treasure"--it was enough to set all those young heads afire with
excitement. Even the Captain took the paper and again critically
studied it; remarking as he replaced it in the wallet:
"Dretful sorry I didn't fetch my readin'-specs when I come away from
town. Likely, if I had I could ha' explained its hull meanin'."
"Dreadful sorry it wasn't Greek, or even Latin! I could have ciphered
the meaning then, if it has a meaning. But every-day French, shucks!"
"How do you know it's French if you don't know French?" demanded
Gerry.
"Oh! I've seen it in Dr. Sterling's library. I know a word or two an'
I plan to know more. Don't it beat all? That just a little bit of
ignorance can hide important things from a fellow, that way? I tell
you there never was a truer word spoke than that 'knowledge is
power'."
Melvin cried:
"Come off! That'll do. Once you get talking about learning and you're
no good. Cap'n, you best stow that in your pocket and help us settle
how to 'follow our leaders'. For my part, I've no notion of sleeping
out doors, now that it looks so likely to storm. What'll we do?"
"Hoof it to the Landin' and hire a conveyance. One that'll carry us
an' the boat, too. That's what she says, and if there's a girl in the
hull state o' Maryland, or Annyrunnell, either, that's got more sense
in her little head nor my 'fust mate', Dorothy, you show me the man
'at says so, an' I'll call him a liar to his face."
"That's all right, Cap'n, only don't get so excited about it. Nobody's
trying to take the wind out of Dorothy's sails. So let's get on. I
reckon I can punt along as far as that Landing, even with a cargo of
monkeys. Then Gerry can take his and skip, and we'll take the other to
our folks."
Melvin was laughing as he talked. Gerald's angry, disgusted face had
changed its expression entirely, since that finding of the curious map
which made the possibility of the "buried treasure" seem so real.
"Oh! I won't bother now. I reckon I'd ought to go on and ask Aurora if
she wants to go home with me, or not. Popper and Mommer'd be sure to
ask me why I didn't bring her. We can settle about the monkeys later."
"Huh! I tell you what I believe! 'Wild horses couldn't drag' you back
to town till you've found out all about what that Frenchy letter means
and have had a dig for the 'treasure'. I know it couldn't _me_. There
isn't a word of sense in the whole business, course. Likely these
whole States have been dug over, foot by foot, same's our Province
has, don't you know? But my mother says there always have been just
such foolish bodies and there always will be. Silly, I fancy; all the
same, if Dorothy or anybody else starts on this business of digging,
I'll ply the liveliest shovel of the lot."
Melvin but expressed the sentiments of all three lads. Even the old
captain was recalling wonder-tales, such as this might be, and feeling
thrills of excitement in his old veins. Suddenly, he burst out:
"Well, I'd be some hendered by my crutches but when you get to diggin'
just lemme know an' I'll be thar!"
They waited no longer then, but stepped back into the "Stem," the
caged monkeys viciously scolding and sometimes yelling, till the
Captain fairly choked with fear and indignation. However, nothing
serious happened. They reached Jimpson's in a little while, and were
fortunate in finding a teamster about to start home along the river
road. His wagon was empty, the row-boat could be slung across it,
there would be abundant room for passengers--including monkeys--a new
sort of "fare" to him.
But they had scarcely got started on this part of their journey before
the threatening storm was upon them. This "gust" was a fearful one,
and they were exposed to its full fury. The driver shielded himself as
best he could under his blankets but offered none to his passengers.
The sky grew dark as night, relieved only by the lightning, and
rivalled, in fact, that tempest which had visited them on the first
day of their trip.
Fortunately, horses know the homeward way--though to be literal these
horses were mules--and they travelled doggedly along, unguided save by
their own instinct. Also, when they had ridden so far that it seemed
to the drenched travellers that they had always been so riding and
always should be, there came a sudden slackening in the storm and an
outburst of moonlight from behind the scattering clouds that was
fairly startling.
After a moment of surprise Melvin broke the silence, asking:
"Do you have this kind of thing often in Maryland?"
"Sure. Down in Annyrunnell we do. 'S nothin' but a 'gust'. Most
gen'ally has 'em if the day opens up hot, like this one did. But it's
purty when it's over, and yender's the turn to the Copse. My road lies
t'other way. It's a quarter a-piece for you white folks an' fifty
a-head fer the monks. I 'low 'twas them hoodooed the trip. Hey? What?
Can't pay? What in reason 'd ye hire me for, then? I ain't workin' for
fun, I'd let you know. We're honest folks in Annyrunnell an' we don't
run up no expenses 't we can't meet. No, siree. You asked me to bring
you an' I've brung. Now you don't leave this here wagon till I've got
my money for my job."
"Look here, farmer! What sort of a man are you, anyway? We went off
fishing not expecting our house-boat would go on without us. We had no
mon----" began Jim, about as angry as he had ever been in his
self-controlled life.
"You had money enough to buy fool monkeys, didn't you?"
Gerald answered promptly:
"That's none of your business! Suppose we did. We paid it and it's
gone. So put that in your pipe and smoke it."
Came the sullen answer: "Don't smoke. Don't waste _my_ money. Pay up
now, and get on. I want my supper, and it's past milkin' time
a'ready."
Melvin was shaking with chill, sitting there in his wet clothes, but
the absurdity of the situation appealed to him, and he asked:
"Since we've spent all our money for monkeys, will you take a monk for
pay?"
"No, siree. I've no use fer such vermin an' you'll get sick enough of
'em, 'fore you're through." With that the teamster drew his driest
blanket about him, settled himself comfortably, and pretended to go to
sleep. "Wake me up when you get ready to pay."
Then began a fresh search in every pocket for the needed two dollars
which would release them from this imprisonment.
"I haven't got a penny!" declared old Cap'n Jack with tearful
earnestness. "I spent every last one a-fixin' up to look like a
skipper'd ought to."
"I _did_ have a little, but I left it in my bunk. I was afraid I'd
spend it if I didn't almost hide it from myself," wailed honest Jim.
"All I had, except what I paid the sailor, is in my other clothes;
that bill I gave the sailor was one I always carried with me because
my mother gave----"
Melvin didn't finish his sentence. He couldn't. He was shivering too
much and that sudden memory of his idolized mother almost unmanned
him. Suppose he were to contract pneumonia? Her constant dread was
that he should be ill and die.
But it was Gerald who now suffered most. Because the morning had been
so warm he had put on a white duck suit. He fancied himself in it and
it was becoming; but it was also thin, and under present circumstances
a costume of torment. If Melvin were shivering, Gerald was worse. He
was shaking so that the ricketty wagon rattled and he felt as if he
were dying.
"Oh! man alive! Don't act the tyrant this way! Tell us where you live
and I give you my word of honor I'll go to your place the first thing
to-morrow and settle. I'll even pay double," begged Jim; and when the
farmer remained obstinately silent, leaped from the wagon and dragged
Gerald after him. "Run, run! You'll get warm that way! Run, I tell
you, for your life!"
But the poor lad couldn't. He sank down upon the wet earth and was
fast lapsing into unconsciousness when the lash of the teamster's whip
fell smartly about him.
"I'll warm you, ye young scamp! Cheat an honest man of his earnin's,
will you?"
But the whip went no further. With a yell as of some enraged animal,
Jim flew at the man and gathered all the strength of his labor-trained
muscles for one fierce onslaught.