BEN STUBBS DISAPPEARS.
Left behind at Camp Walrus, Billy Barnes, Lathrop, and Ben Stubbs
watched the _Golden Eagle II_ until she became a bird-like speck against
the intense blue of the Florida sky.
"Good luck to them," cried Billy, a wish that was echoed by all the
"stay-at-homes," as Lathrop had dubbed them.
"Come on, Lathrop," said Billy, the second morning after the aeroplane
faded from view, "let's get the guns and go for a hunt. I'm sure I heard
a wild turkey in the brush yonder a while ago, and Ben can mount guard
over the wireless while we are gone."
"Do you think that will be all right?" questioned Lathrop dubiously,
"you know I'm the only one in the camp that can operate the instrument
and I think I ought to keep within reach of it."
"You're right," rejoined Billy. "It will be better for Ben and I to go."
Ben agreed with alacrity, the old prospector was never better pleased
than when there was an opportunity to hunt, and he hastened to oil up
his gun and fill his cartridge belt.
"Hold on a minute," said Ben, as he and Billy Barnes started out, "I'm
too old a woodsman to go into the woods without agreeing on a signal if
anything happens. We'll use the old hunter's warning. If we need you,
Lathrop, or you need us, we are to fire first one shot then a pause and
then two shots in rapid succession and keep it up till we get an answer.
We'll be back to dinner."
"All right," replied Lathrop, "though I don't see just what trouble you
can get into here, and as for me, I am all right I guess--so long."
Left alone Lathrop took his fountain-pen and--though he had no idea when
he could post it--began the composition of a long letter home. He was so
engrossed with this employment that he did not notice the hour, and it
was not till Pork Chops summoned him to lunch that he recalled with a
start that the two hunters were still away. However, he assured himself
it was probable that they had found good hunting in some distant part of
the island and that they had not, like himself, realized how late it was
getting.
This done he walked uneasily up and down, waiting impatiently for the
return of the hunters. He was really anxious and could no longer
disguise from himself the fact that something of a serious nature must
have happened to keep them out away so long. His mind ran the gamut of
every accident, from snake-bite to accidental shooting, but he was as
far from guessing the real truth as he was from being at ease in his
mind.
"Bang!" A long pause--then again, "Bang--Bang."
It was the alarm signal agreed upon by Ben Stubbs before the hunters
left camp.
The reports came from some distance in the forest, and Lathrop, hastily
getting his gun and half crazy with anxiety, answered it as soon as he
could slip in the cartridges.
What could have happened?
Firing frequently and being answered at closer intervals all the time,
Lathrop advanced into the jungle and had not proceeded very far when he
encountered a strange figure.
It was Billy Barnes, but a white-faced Billy, his clothes torn by
creepers and his face scratched and cut by his wanderings in the jungle.
A very different figure from the usual trig one cut by the young
reporter.
"Oh, Billy, what has happened?" gasped Lathrop, shocked at his
companion's woe-begone appearance.
The reporter's reply was sufficiently alarming.
"Ben Stubbs has disappeared!"
"Disappeared?" echoed the amazed Lathrop.
"Yes, as utterly as if the earth had opened and swallowed him," was the
reply, in a strained, tired voice. "I've hunted for him all the
afternoon and I have not been able to find a trace of him. I got almost
cut to ribbons in the sharp-leaved briars or whatever you call them."
He ruefully regarded his torn hands and ragged clothing.
"You are sure he is not merely hunting in another part of the island."
"Certain," was the dispiriting reply, "you see it happened like this--we
had shot a couple of turkeys when Ben suggested our separating and
getting a bigger bag in that way than we would by hunting together. We
were to rejoin each other at the end of half an hour, the signal being
two shots. At the end of half an hour I fired two shots but there was no
answer. I tried again, and there was still no reply but the echo of my
shots. I was scared then, I tell you, and fired the danger signal. Still
there was no answer.
"Well, then, I was rattled. I plunged about in the woods till I got all
ripped up as you see and shouted for Ben till I thought my throat would
crack, but I didn't get a trace or a sign of him. Then I recovered my
wits a bit and got out my compass. I headed for camp, and when I judged
I was near enough for you to hear me, I fired the danger signal--you
answered it, and here I am."
"Oh, Billy, what are we going to do?" exclaimed the younger boy.
"Make the best of it till we are certain Ben is lost, and then
communicate with the _Tarantula_ and Frank and Harry," said the
practical Billy. "Cheer up, we don't know yet that any actual harm has
befallen him, it's the mystery of the thing that worries me."
"I must send a wireless to Frank and Harry at once," cried Lathrop.
"You will do no such thing, young fellow," rejoined Billy. "In the first
place they have got troubles enough of their own right now; and, in the
second, a man is never lost till you've sent out a general alarm for
him, and he is still missing."
"A general alarm?" repeated Lathrop, puzzled.
"Yes, that's reporter's slang for advertising for a missing man. Well,
we can't advertise here unless the herons and mocassins get out a
gazette, but we can take the canoes to-morrow and make a thorough
circuit of the island."
Greatly comforted by Billy's assumed light-heartedness, Lathrop tramped
back to camp by his side in a more cheerful frame of mind. As a matter
of fact, Billy was feeling what he himself would have described as
"pretty blue," but he was sensible enough to know that the best way to
face the emergencies of life is to look at them from the best possible
aspect and not give up hope till every way out of difficulty has been
tried.
In the meantime what had happened was this, and it was sufficiently
alarming. Ben, after he parted from Billy, had followed a fascinating
"Ke-ouk ke-ouk" through the brush till he found himself near the margin
of the creek that flowed round the island. He had reached the brink and
was looking inquiringly about him to ascertain what might have become of
the big gobbler when he felt a rope thrown over his head from behind,
and the next minute the big ex-sailor, great as was his strength, was
struggling in the arms of a dozen men. Who his captors were he was
unable to see, for as the rope had tightened, his great arms were
pinioned close to his side, forcing at the same time his gun from his
grip, and a thick blanket had been thrown over his head. Blinded and
half suffocated, Ben felt himself picked up and hustled through the
wood. He tried to shout but the blanket effectually muffled his voice.
After a few minutes of this rapid traveling Ben felt himself thrown into
what he instinctively realized was a canoe and then being paddled
rapidly over the water. In what direction they were proceeding he had of
course no means of knowing, but from the few words his captors had
exchanged he knew he was in the hands of the Seminoles. Of the object of
his abduction he could not even hazard a guess.
After about an hour of traveling Ben, through his smothering blanket,
heard the loud barking of dogs and crying of children, and knew that
they must be near a settlement of some kind. He was not left in doubt.
The canoe's keel grated on the beach the next minute and he was dragged
out and propelled toward the center of the sound. He felt dogs come
sniffing about his legs and kicked out viciously. He grinned under his
blanket as he heard one limp away with ear-piercing howls.
"There's one trouble disposed of," thought Ben to himself, "what's
coming now. I wonder?"
He was not kept long in suspense. He was suddenly halted and the cloth
jerked off his head. His wrists, however, were not unbound. It was now
dark, and in the sudden glare of firelight that confronted him, Ben's
eyes refused their duty for a minute or so. As he grew accustomed to the
light, however, and looked about him he saw that he stood in the center
of a ring of palmetto-thatched huts which were crowded with women and
children, all heavily laden with beads--in fact these were about all the
clothing the children wore--while all about him were grouped grave-faced
men with bright-colored turbans on their heads, one of whom he at once
recognized as the chief who had visited them with Quatty the previous
afternoon and promised them freedom from annoyance while they were in
the limits of the 'glades.
"This is a dern fine way you keep your promises," roared the captive Ben
indignantly, while the women snickered and the men regarded him with
stolid curiosity, "you cigar-store Injuns you, if I had my hands free
I'd hammer you into lobscouse. I'd show you the kind of a buck sailorman
I am. I thought you promised us you wouldn't disturb us and here you
clap my head in a mainsail and furl me in it till I can't use my
deadlights to see day from night. Keelhaul you, if I had you aboard a
ship I'd masthead the lot of you till you fell overboard."
There was not a word in reply and the chief stood with folded arms, as
immobile as if Ben had not spoken a word.
"Oh, you're all going to play deaf, are you," bellowed the enraged
ex-sailorman, "well, it won't go down with me, my hearties. I know you
can hear,--oh, if only I had my hands free I'd put some life into
you--you--you row of tenpins."
Here Ben stopped, because he was completely out of breath with his
volcanic outburst. While he was getting ready for a fresh eruption, to
his surprise one of the younger men stepped forward from the solemn
circle and in excellent English, considering the place and by whom it
was spoken, said:
"You all through big talk, white man?"
"All through," sputtered the amazed Ben, "yes, I'm through, that is for
the present. And now, as you seem to be the only one of this collection
of dummies that has any glimmering of sense, will you please tell me why
I am fetched here like a ship's cat going aboard a strange craft, all
tied up in a bag?"
"No savee--ship's cat," replied the Seminole quietly; "plentee--savee,
white man tell heap lie--all time."
"Calling me a liar, now are you, you mahogany-colored lobster," yelled
Ben, "I'd like to get one good punch at you, my matey."
"All white men liars," blandly went on the Indian, "steal our land--all
time break word to us--um no good."
"Well?" demanded Ben.
"Well," went on the spokesman of the tribe, "you stay here lilly
while--we no hurt you. When you fren's go then you go, too. They no hurt
us we no hurt you."
"Oh, is that so?" replied Ben, "werry good of you, I'm sure."
"You eat plenty sofkee--plenty fowl--plenty tobac. Good time plenty,
how?"
Now Ben had been in tight places in his adventurous career and he was by
no means disposed to offend the Seminoles by seeming over anxious to get
away, at least for the present, for he knew that if he did so any chance
that his wrist gyves would be removed would be lost, so he acquiesced
gracefully to all the Indian had said.
"All right, old odds-and-ends," he said, "I'll act as hostage as long as
you feed me well and give me plenty to smoke. Now, take off these."
As soon as his reply had been translated to the chief, and that
dignitary had agreed, the ropes that bound Ben's wrists were cut and he
was at comparative liberty.
"Sofkee?" questioned the young Indian who had conducted the
negotiations, indicating a huge pot simmering on the fire. And then for
the first time Ben tasted that delectable standby dish of the Seminoles,
which is composed of birds, rabbits, turtles, fish, corn, potatoes,
sweet and white, peppers, beans and anything else that comes to hand.
There is a big kettle of it kept handy in every Seminole village and
anyone who happens along is at liberty to help himself. There is only
one drawback to the dish from fastidious folks' point of view, and that
is that every one helps him or herself from the same big wooden spoon.
But Ben was not fastidious and he made a hearty meal of the savory
compound, and then after a pipe or two of tobacco, appeared to compose
himself to sleep on a pile of skins laid on the floor of the
palmetto-thatched hut assigned to him.
He simulated slumber till midnight when, as no one appeared to be
watching, he rose and tiptoed out of the camp and down to the water's
edge where the canoes were moored. He was about to launch one when a
tall figure stepped out of the gloom of the trees and pointed a rifle
straight at him.
"Huh--white man go back--or Injun shoot," said the figure.
Ben, as has been said, was a wise man--he went back.