HOCKLEY SHOWS HIS TRUE COLORS
Professor Strong had been studying a guide book which he carried.
Presently he closed the volume, put it into his pocket, and leaped to
his feet.
“Come, boys, I think we had better be on our way.”
“I’m ready,” answered Darry, and aroused Frank.
Hockley was close at hand, throwing stones at some birds in a
neighboring tree. Now he stopped and walked over to the railroad track.
“Where is Mark?”
Several asked the question at the same time, and all looked around for
their companion.
“I saw him walking towards yonder cliff last,” said Sam. “But that was
some time ago.”
“Hullo, Mark!” cried Frank. “Where are you?”
No answer came back, and the cry was repeated by Darry and Sam. Then
the professor shouted, with all the strength of his lungs. Still there
was no reply.
“This is very strange,” observed the professor, with a serious look on
his face. “I trust he hasn’t gotten into any trouble. You are sure you
saw him going toward the cliff, Winthrop?”
“Yes, sir, directly after Frank went to sleep.”
“I’ll go over and take a look around.”
“Let me go with you, please,” said Frank, and he followed and so did
Sam and Darry. Hockley sat down on the railroad embankment to await
their return.
Sam pointed out the spot where he had last seen Mark and it did not
take the crowd long to reach that vicinity. All looked around anxiously.
“He isn’t here, that’s sure,” said Professor Strong. “It’s a mystery
what became of him.”
“Perhaps he fell over into the bushes below,” suggested Darry.
At this Frank, who loved Mark as a brother, gave a shiver and crawled
to the edge. But there was nothing below but dirt and tropical vines,
the latter overrun with big spiders.
“Mark! Mark!” he shouted, and again the others joined in the cry.
“Hark! I heard something!” exclaimed Sam, who had walked nearest to the
rough rocks where Mark had first slipped. “Listen.”
All did so, with bated breath. A low groan reached their ears, sounding
as if it had come from the bowels of the earth.
“It’s Mark! He’s surely had a fall!” gasped Frank. He raised his voice:
“Mark! Mark! Where are you?”
“Here, under the cliff,” was the faint answer, and another groan
followed.
“Under the cliff?” repeated Professor Strong. He crawled to the edge
and looked around as Frank had done. “I see no opening, do you?”
“No, sir.”
“The cries come from further up the cliff, in that direction,” said
Sam, whose ears seemed to be more acute than the rest. “Listen! I think
he must be in some hole over yonder.”
The professor hurried toward the rough rocks and was soon climbing
around them. But he was more careful than Mark had been and made the
turn in safety. He now found himself on another portion of the cliff
and Mark’s groans came from directly beneath him.
“Mark!” he called out. “Are you below there?”
“I am,” was the answer.
“Are you much hurt?”
“My ankle got a bad twist and I was almost smothered by some dirt
covering me.”
The professor said no more just then but tried to look over the edge of
the cliff into the hollow. In this, however, he was unsuccessful.
But Professor Strong was not a man to be daunted easily. When out on
hunting expeditions he had at various times, gotten into positions of
extreme peril, and he was used to taking risks. Measuring the distance
to the dirt hill in front of the cliff, he took a leap and landed in
safety. He was careful not to go too close to the hole so there was no
caving-in as there had been when Mark descended.
“Now, then, I’ll see if I can help you out,” said the professor, when
he caught sight of the youth resting on top of the dirt that had last
fallen.
“Be careful, or you’ll slide down, too,” answered Mark. “That bank is
awfully treacherous.”
Leaving the vicinity of the opening Professor Strong began to hunt for
something by which Mark might be hauled up. But nothing was at hand.
“Have you found him?” came from Frank.
“Yes. He is at the bottom of a deep opening. I will have to haul him
out if I can find anything to do it with.”
“If only we had a rope,” came from Darry.
Each looked around in perplexity.
“Might try some of the vines by twisting them together,” suggested
Frank.
“The vines growing around here are not strong enough,” called back the
professor.
At that moment came a slight rumble from the railroad and at a distance
another handcar hove into sight, containing several laborers with their
tools.
“Hi! stop that handcar!” called out Frank to Hockley, who had arisen to
watch the car pass.
“What for?” demanded the lank youth.
“The professor wants a rope.”
“Stop the car yourself,” muttered Hockley. Nevertheless, when the car
came near, he waved his hand for the men to stop working the handles
which kept it in motion.
“What do you want?” asked one of the men, in a Spanish patois, after
the handcar had been brought to a standstill.
“We want a rope,” said Hockley, without understanding the man.
The man shrugged his shoulders and so did his companions. Then Hockley
pointed to a rope which laid coiled up on the car. At this the native
smiled, then looked perplexed.
By this time Professor Strong was hurrying in the direction. He could
speak the language fairly well and soon made them understand that
somebody was in a hole and had to be hauled out. Then he held a silver
piece out and the native, who was a sort of foreman, took it instantly.
The handcar was taken from the tracks and all the workmen followed the
professor to the hill in front of the cliff.
When Mark was brought up and placed on the grass, it was found that his
ankle was so swollen that walking was out of the question. He was wet
and dirty from head to foot and the others did what they could toward
cleaning him off. The handcar men could not remain and hurried away as
soon as they could get back their rope.
“I don’t know what you’re going to do with me,” said Mark, ruefully.
“I’d walk if I could but I can’t and that’s all there is to it.”
“Does the ankle still hurt when you are resting?” asked the professor
kindly.
“No, only when I try to stand on it.”
“Then rest where you are and I will see what can be done toward getting
a horse or some other animal to carry you.”
Professor Strong started off toward the mountain road between La Guayra
and Caracas, and the others gathered about Mark, bathing his ankle with
water from a nearby pool and doing all they could otherwise to make him
comfortable.
“It was a foolish thing to do, attempting to crawl around that cliff,”
observed Hockley, as he sat by watching proceedings, without offering
any aid. “You’ve got us all into a muss. Goodness only knows when we’ll
get to Caracas now.”
“You needn’t wait for us if you don’t wish to,” retorted Frank, stung
by the lank youth’s harshness. “You can go ahead--I’m sure we shan’t
miss you.”
“Don’t you talk to me like that, Frank Newton. I won’t stand it!”
blurted out Hockley, his face reddening.
“I just will talk to you like that, Jake Hockley. Mark didn’t get his
ankle sprained for fun, and you know it.”
“Oh, let him alone, Frank,” put in Mark. “It isn’t worth quarreling
about.”
“I suppose you fellows will be getting into trouble right straight
along,” continued Hockley, who seemed to have one of his streaks of ill
temper. “I shan’t put up with it, I’ll tell you that.”
“You’ll get into trouble in another minute, if you don’t quit,” cried
Frank. “The best thing you can do is to go on to Caracas and leave us
alone.”
“That’s all you fellows want--to get clear of me,” growled the lank
youth. “But you can’t do it. My father’s paying my way, and I’m going
to do as I please, and I’m not going to allow Professor Strong to
consult you and not me in everything either,” he went on, bitterly.
As he finished speaking he started to move from one side of the little
crowd to the other. He passed close to Mark and as he did so his foot
hit the swollen ankle and made the youth on the ground cry out with
pain.
“Oh, Hockley, what did you do that for?”
“I--er--I didn’t mean to do it,” answered the lank youth, surlily.
“You did mean to do it, you mean bully!” ejaculated Frank, who had
seen the movement perfectly. And in a sudden rage he ran up and shoved
Hockley backward into some brushwood. “If you try it again, I’ll fight
you, small as I am.”
It took the lank youth a few seconds to recover and then his face was
redder than ever. Without a word he darted for Frank and struck him
heavily in the shoulder. Then he struck out again, but Frank dodged the
blow. A moment more and the two had clinched and were rolling over and
over on the ground.