THE MYSTERY OF THE PHOTOGRAPH.
"It seemed as if I could not miss, Jack; but I do not care to go
through that ordeal again."
"Nor I, Ronie. But now that we are safe, let's look after the chap
over our heads. It must be he needs our aid bad enough. I never saw
one in just such a predicament."
The hapless man had ceased his outcries, and was trying to find out
what had taken place underneath him, and as to what bearing it would
have upon his fate. Seeing no other way to reach him, Ronie
immediately climbed the tree holding him. His weight, added to that of
the other's, caused the sapling to bend so that Jack was soon able to
reach the poor fellow by standing under him.
"A little lower, lad, and I shall be able to get him. His feet are
caught in the tree's bootjack, but I--there! I have got him free and
clear. Look out that the tree doesn't hang you up."
Jack quickly laid the man upon the ground, and began to straighten out
his limp limbs.
"Has he fainted?" asked Ronie, quickly joining him by springing from
the tree to the earth, leaving the sapling to leap back into its normal
position with a force that cut the air like a lash.
"He is overcome by his experience. But he'll soon come out all right,
as I do not see that he has been injured more than a few scratches.
Looks like a tolerable sort of a fellow for a South American. Got a
little of the native blood in him mixed up with the Spanish. He
belongs to the common class."
The man was a person of middle age, of slight figure, but wiry build.
He presented a somewhat warlike nature by the armament he carried about
his body. This consisted of a pair of heavy pistols, a huge knife, and
inside his stout jacket a pair Of smaller pistols were to be seen. He
also had fastened about his waist by a belt a good stock of cartridges,
evidently for the firearm Ronie had picked up. Certainly it had not
been for a lack of means of defense that he had fared so roughly in his
meeting with the jaguar.
It seemed like a long time to our friends before he opened his eyes and
revived enough to seek a sitting posture. Then he rubbed his head,
stared stupidly about, and tried to regain his feet, giving expression
to his surprise in Spanish. Both Jack and Ronie were able to converse
in that language, and Jack at once assured him of his safety at that
moment.
He was profuse in his thanks, though somewhat reticent in regard to
himself. He had climbed a tree near the sapling, but somehow had lost
his footing and fallen into the topmost branches of the latter.
Lodging between the branches of this his weight had brought it and him
into the positions in which they had been found. The jaguar had come
along, and discovering him began at once its attempted attack. That
was what Jack and Ronie made out of his disjointed account.
"I do not know what to make of him," said Jack, aside in English. "He
is either afraid of us, or he is a rogue. Probably both. I will see
if I can find out where we are."
Then, addressing the Venezuelan, he said:
"How far is it to the nearest town?"
"You mean San Carlos, senor?"
"_Si, senor_," replied Jack, at a hazard.
"Have you friends at San Carlos?" asked the other, without answering
the question propounded him.
"I hope so, senor."
This reply seemed to stagger him for a moment, but he managed to
recover in a moment, when he said:
"How long have you been in this country, Senor Americanos?"
"Since sunrise," was the reply, which gave the other a second surprise.
"I do not understand, senor."
Thinking nothing could be gained by withholding all of the truth from
him, Jack soon explained how they had been lost overboard from a vessel
in the gulf, picked up by another, and then left ashore among strangers
in a strange land. He did not consider it necessary or advisable to
enter into descriptions of the ships they had recently left. If his
account aroused at first some suspicion in the mind of the Venezuelan,
Jack's honesty of tone quickly dispelled this, and the other said:
"You have been unfortunate, senors. There are many ships upon the sea
at this time who do not care to pick up strangers. No doubt the craft
was one of Castro's spies. They are looking far and wide for the
_Libertador_, but they cannot find her," he concluded, showing evident
pleasure at the thought. Then he asked, as if a new thought had come
suddenly to him:
"What do they say of us in the Great Republic?"
"The sympathy of the United States is ever with the down-trodden,"
replied Jack, cautiously. "But we are not able to say just how our
nation looks upon the revolution here, except that it will see fair
play, for you must remember it has been nearly a year since we left
home."
The other showed his disappointment at this, but soon asked:
"Have you friends in this country?"
"If we were at Caracas we might find them."
At this the man shook his head.
"It would be worth more than your lives to get to Caracas at this time.
The 'Sons of Liberty' are looking sharp after the dogs of Castro."
"This man is one of the insurgents," was the thought which came
simultaneously to Jack and Ronie. Then the latter asked:
"You said we were near to San Carlos. Is this town held by Castro or
by the followers of Matos?"
"You prove yourself a stranger, senor, by your words. San Carlos holds
the blackest spot on fair Venezuela, the dungeon that keeps in captive
chains the noble El Mocho."
"You mean General Hernandez, senor? I have heard of him. But I
thought he was once friendly to Castro."
"So he was, senor, until the tyrant abused the common people, then El
Mocho led his gallant followers against Castro, was betrayed by a
cowardly dog, and now he lies at San Carlos a captive."
"Do you live near here?"
"_Si, senor._" Then he added, with a curve of his lips, which gave an
ugly-looking smile: "When I am at home. I was going hither when I met
with this little adventure, which would have ended the warfare of
Manuel Marlin for the freedom of poor Venezuela. If you will come with
me the hospitality of my humble home is at your disposal."
"I do not think we can do any better than to go with him," said Jack,
aside to Ronie, "providing we keep our eyes and ears open."
Ronie was about to signify his assent, when an object nearly buried in
the crumpled foliage and torn up earth where the jaguar had made its
stand, caught his attention. It was about the size of an ordinary
postal card, and at first glance looked like a piece of cardboard. But
Ronie had discovered on the other side a portrait, which prompted him
to pick up the photograph, as it proved to be.
It was crumpled and soiled, but hastily brushing as much of the dirt
from it as he could, he gazed earnestly at the sweet, womanly face
pictured before him. As he gazed the color left his countenance, his
hand shook so it threatened to drop the card, while he exclaimed in a
husky voice:
"My mother!"
Jack showed almost as much emotion as his young companion, as he
stepped quickly beside him, saying:
"Your mother's photograph in this place? How can that be?"
"I do not know, Jack. But it is surely hers. See! It was taken in
New York."
"Doubtless Senor Marlin can throw some light upon the matter," declared
Jack. "You picked it up almost under where he had been hanging. The
photograph fell from one of your pockets, Senor Manuel?" asked Jack,
addressing the Venezuelan.
The latter had retreated a few paces, and he showed considerable
agitation, while he shook his head, replying in a low tone:
"If it was in my pocket, I did not know it, senors. Some one else must
have dropped it here. It would not be strange, as there are many
scouts in the forests at this time."
Both Jack and Ronie felt sure that the man was trying to deceive them,
but deemed it wise not to let him know it.
"I mistrust the fellow," whispered Jack, aside. "We must keep a close
watch upon him. I do not think he understands English, so he does not
know what relation the portrait may bear to you. Let's feign
indifference in the matter, and keep with him."
So Ronie placed the photograph in one of his pockets without further
remarks, though he found it difficult to conceal his emotions. While
he was doing this Jack signified to Manuel Marlin that they were
anxious to go to his home, or at least to be shown the way out of the
forest. Then, with rapid steps, the Venezuelan led the way out of the
jungle, not once looking back in his hasty advance. This gave our
friends opportunity to exchange thoughts, though they were careful not
to say enough to arouse the suspicions of their guide.
"I cannot understand what it means," declared Ronie. "How could
mother's picture be brought here, and why?"
As this was a question Jack could not answer, he merely shook his head,
adding:
"This fellow, or some of his friends, may have been in New York, and
accidentally picked it up. In that case it would not indicate any
cause for worriment."
"I cannot help feeling, Jack, that there is some other explanation. I
cannot help thinking that in some way it portends trouble to mother.
It can do no harm to question this fellow more closely in regard to the
matter."
"We will take our chances on that score, though I believe he is a
thoroughbred liar."
Then they did question this man as closely as they thought prudent, but
without gleaning a single ray of light upon the subject. In fact, he
persisted in maintaining an absolute ignorance in regard to it. So
finally Ronie was compelled to drop the subject, while he tried in vain
to find some plausible explanation of the mystery.
Manuel Marlin showed that he was glad of the sight ahead, when at last
they reached the edge of the forest, and found themselves looking at
the rim of sandy sea-coast, with the glimmer of water in the distance.
The day was very calm, and the bay stretched as smoothly as if formed
of plate glass, while overhead the sky had that peculiar flat
appearance so common in the tropics.
"Does senors see that dismal building on yonder point of land?" asked
their guide, and, without waiting for their reply, went on: "It is the
fort of San Carlos, where the 'El Mocho' is chained like a dog!"
"Look yonder!" exclaimed Ronie, "there is a train of men going thither
now."
"Looks to me as if they were conducting prisoners to the penitentiary,"
said Jack. "If my old eyes do not deceive me one of them is an
American."
"I am sure you are right, Jack. Let's get a little nearer, so we can
see as they pass along."
Their guide showed some hesitation in doing this, though he led the way
somewhat circuitously forward, so as to gain a view of the soldiery
train without being seen themselves, saying as he did so:
"This is more of the dirty work of Castro's dogs of war."