CHARLEY GETS A TELEGRAM.
THE tired-out boys slept soundly until awakened by the rays of the
morning sun. Rising, they enjoyed a good swim in the cool waters of
the lake, and then, stirring up the dying embers of the campfire, they
warmed up and ate what remained of their feast of the night before.
As soon as it was finished, they saddled up their ponies, and, with a
parting look at the beautiful lake, headed back for camp.
They had not gone far before the sky became overcast, and soon there
began to fall a fine, drizzling rain, that soaked their thin clothing
and chilled their bodies. There was no shelter to get under, so they
could only ride on and take it as it came. When they came to the place
where they had stopped the day before Walter wanted to halt and look
for more treasure, but Charley objected.
"Our matches are all wet, so that we cannot make a torch," he
explained, "and we could not do much searching without a light.
If there is any more treasure in that hole there is no danger of
anyone finding it. We, ourselves, would never have found it but for
an accident. We had better wait until we can come back with a proper
outfit of ropes, candles, etc. To tell the truth, I want someone else
along with us next time. If one of us should get hurt in any way it
would be a bad fix for both so far away from camp. See how near I came
to joining you in that hole yesterday? Two is not enough where there is
danger of that kind. We will bring the Captain and Chris next time."
Walter, still mindful of his experience in the black hole, was not
overly anxious to repeat it, and they rode on in the drizzling rain.
Before they reached the Indian camp the rain ceased and the sun came
out again with a warmth grateful to their chilled bodies. On reining
in at the camp, they were astonished to see the chief sitting out in
the sun in front of his wigwam. He was thin as a skeleton, but appeared
bright and cheerful. The Indian, Willie John, who had furnished them
with the ponies, stopped them when they started to unsaddle.
"No, no," he said, "ride ponies on to big camp. Turn 'em loose. They
come back all right."
The boys tried to pay him for the use of the animals, but he refused to
take any money.
"Young pale-faces friends. No take money from friends," he said
generously.
"Very well," Charley said, "but friends may give gifts to friends.
Soon I go to town and get plenty of red and blue and yellow cloth and
much beads. Two sleeps (nights) from now you come to big camp and get
them. They will be a gift from the palefaces to their Seminole brother."
"It is well," said the Seminole, gravely. "Two sleeps I come to big
camp."
"There is something noble about the Seminoles," said Charley, as they
rode on. "Now that fellow knows the value of money, and he knows he can
get with it many things that he desires, but his code forbids him to
take it from a friend."
"I like them," agreed Walter emphatically. "They are so different from
our slovenly tribes of Western Indians. They are so clean, honest,
generous, and truthful. I doubt if a white race put in this awful
country would retain so many virtues."
"And they have never waged an unjust war," Charley added. "When they
fought it was to save themselves from being crushed out of existence.
But, when they did have to fight, they fought bravely. During the
Seminole war, not so very many miles north of here, a party of Indians
encountered a company of soldiers. The soldiers stood their ground
until the last one was killed and the Seminoles victorious, but, after
the battle was over, not a dead soldier was scalped according to savage
custom. Not one was touched. Even their guns and equipment were left
lying where they had fallen. It was a silent tribute the Seminoles
paid to a brave enemy, and, to my mind, there was something fine in the
act."
This conversation had brought the lads to the jungle, and they fell
silent as they rode through its gloomy depths.
It was after noon when they came in sight of the machine, which they
were pleased to see was still working steadily, showing that nothing
serious had occurred during their absence. When close to it, Charley
reined in his pony and hailed the engineer.
"Hello!" he called. "How are they coming?"
Kitchner stopped the machine, and clambering down, walked up to him.
"Not so bad," he said, in answer to the question. "But we've only got
enough carbide to run the light to-night. Have to have some more before
to-morrow night, or we will have to quit night work."
Charley frowned slightly. "That carbide light costs like fury," he
said. "I brought out a big lot of it the last time I went to town. At
the rate it has been used up, that light costs us about $5.00 a night."
"It is expensive," agreed Kitchner, "and that is not the worst feature
about it. It's dangerous to use on a job like this, where the men do
not understand it. There is always some escaping gas from the tank,
which is easily set afire by a spark from the engine or the careless
lighting of a match close by. One of the firemen was burnt some last
night. The gas caught fire from his lantern. An electric light would be
far better, less dangerous, and save its own cost in the long run."
"We'll get a dynamo and fix up an electric light, then," said Charley.
"I'll go in to-night and order one. It will likely take several days to
get it here, so I'll bring back enough carbide with me to run the light
until it comes."
This settled, the boys rode on into camp, where Charley paused long
enough to wash and change his clothes, then got out the truck and
headed for town, where he arrived in time to catch the train for Palm
Beach. He carried with him the gold and rings they had found in the
old fort, for the boys had decided that it would be unwise to keep the
treasure at camp, and that the sooner it was turned into money and
safely deposited in the bank the better it would be. Once at the Beach,
the lad sought out the leading jeweler in town, and showed him the
rings and coins, and asked if he thought he could dispose of them for
him.
The jeweler examined the rings with the greatest interest. "Some of
these rings are very valuable," he declared. "Just how valuable, I
would not like to say, offhand. If you care to intrust me with the
disposal of them, I will get all the money I can out of them for you.
The gold coins you will have no trouble about. Your bank will accept
them at nearly their real value."
Charley quickly accepted the jeweler's offer, and turned over the rings
to him and received a receipt in return. At the bank he had no trouble
with the gold coins, the cashier readily accepting them and crediting
the value to his account.
His business transacted, the lad bought a paper, and, securing a room
in a nearby hotel, stretched out on the bed to read and rest, for he
was thoroughly tired out by the long day he had put in. He scanned
the headlines with mild interest, but at last he came to a paragraph
that he read and reread with growing excitement. The brief item ran as
follows:
"Among the bills that will come up before the legislature when it meets
next month is one to give to a wealthy New York company a grant of one
thousand acres of land, just east of Indiantown, for the nominal sum
of $1 per acre. There is but little doubt that the bill will pass,
for this land is so remote from transportation that it is considered
of little or no value. The New York company, it is said, intends to
develop the entire tract. They certainly seem very eager about it, for
much money and influence is being used to secure the desired grant."
For a long time the lad lay back and considered this short notice, but
could see nothing in it to account for the many attempts to stop the
road building, for certainly a good road would be of vast value to the
development company. At last he gave up puzzling over the matter, and
turning out his light, prepared to go to sleep; but, he had no sooner
stretched out, than there came a thumping at his door. "Wait a minute,"
he called to the knocker, as he turned on the light and slipped on his
clothes. He opened the door, and in stepped a little, freckled-faced
messenger boy.
"Gee, Mister," he said, "I've had a peach of a job finding you. Been to
every hotel and boarding-house in town. Got a telegram for you. Sign
right here."
"Wait a minute," said Charley, as the youth turned to go. "There may be
an answer to this."
Hastily tearing open the envelope, the lad read:
"Better get back as soon as you can. Bunch of New York toughs or gunmen
just got off train. Met by wagons. Gone out direction of your camp. Saw
Jones talking to some of them. Bad-looking characters."
There was no name signed to the message, but the lad knew it was from
the friendly agent at Jupiter, and, turning it over, he wrote on the
back.
"Can't get up until morning train. Many thanks."
He gave the message to the boy, together with a half dollar to pay him
for his trouble, and, as soon as the boy had departed, he undressed
and went again to bed, where he lay awake half the night, worrying over
the agent's message.
He was waiting at the sheriff's office next morning when that officer
arrived, and to him he laid bare the whole story of their trials since
he and his chums had bought the machine.
The sheriff listened with deepest interest, and when the lad concluded
he said to him frankly: "I would like best in the world, lad, to help
you, but you have no direct evidence against anyone, and I can make no
arrests without proof. I would advise you to see a good lawyer. Maybe
he will be able to untangle this mess for you."