MOVING THE CAMP.
MUCH downcast by his failure to secure the sheriff's aid, Charley made
his way to the building where most of the lawyers of the county had
their offices. Selecting one of the offices at random, for he knew none
of the lawyers, even by reputation, he opened the door and entered. He
found himself face to face with a bright, alert, keen-eyed young man,
who greeted him pleasantly, and invited him to be seated. Briefly he
stated his errand and retold the tale he had told the sheriff.
The young lawyer listened with deepest interest, and at the end of it
exclaimed boyishly:
"By Jove, this is an interesting case. I wouldn't miss a chance to
handle it for a hundred dollars. I was a detective before I was
a lawyer, and the lure of mystery always appeals to me. There is
certainly enough mystery in this case of yours to satisfy anyone. I
will have to think it over carefully, and look up some features of it,
before I can be of any help to you. I will be busy to-day, for I have
a case coming up in Circuit Court, but to-morrow I will come out to
your camp and look the ground over with you. I have a little auto of my
own, and I will enjoy the trip out, even if nothing comes of it. I have
always wanted to see that back country, and this will be a good chance
to combine business with pleasure."
Charley left the friendly lawyer's office feeling more cheerful in
having enlisted his aid. He reached the station just in time to catch
the train for Jupiter, where he alighted half an hour later. The agent
was watching for him, and immediately drew him to one side.
"I am afraid you are in for a rough time out at camp," he said; "that
was the wickedest-looking bunch of men I ever saw in my life. There
were twenty of them altogether. They were expected, too, for there were
wagons waiting for them a little ways from the station, and they drove
off immediately."
"I cannot even stop to thank you properly," Charley said, earnestly.
"We cannot thank you enough for what you have done for us, anyway."
"That's all right," said the agent heartily, "I am pleased to have been
of any assistance to you. But I will not keep you, for I know you are
anxious to see how things are at camp. So-long, and good luck to you."
A minute later Charley was in the truck and driving out on the dirt
road at a dangerous rate of speed, for before him he could see the
sharp cut of wagon tires in the soft earth.
About three miles from camp the wagon tracks left the road, and, as far
as the lad could see from the car, continued at a right angle to it.
Somewhat relieved by this discovery, he reduced his speed and drove
into camp at an easy gait.
Much to his delight, he found everything going on as usual, dinner
cooking in the cook tent, the machine busily digging, and the graders
leveling off close behind it. After a little chat with Chris, the lad
retired to his tent, where he rested until his chums and the men came
trooping in to dinner.
After dinner was eaten, Charley called a council of war of his chums,
the two engineers off duty, and Bossie the fireman. He told them of all
he had learned during his trip. "Of course I may be making a mountain
out of a mole hill," he said, in conclusion. "Those men may be only a
party of hunters out for a good time, but, from what we have already
met with, it will be well to be on our guard until we are sure of the
fact. We cannot tell in what way or when we will be made to suffer. I
want every man--Spaniard as well as American--to be constantly on the
watch for any signs of trouble. You, Bossie, explain to your countrymen
just how things stand, so that none of them will be taken unawares.
Now, have any of you any suggestions to offer?"
"I think we ought to move camp as soon as possible," said McCarty
promptly. "It's a good two miles from here to the machine now, and the
distance is growing greater every day. Of course, it does not make so
much difference in the daytime, but, with an enemy around, it makes it
risky for the men going back and forth at night."
"You're right," Charley agreed. "We had better get an early start and
move camp to-morrow morning to a place about a quarter of a mile ahead
of the machine. I noticed a knoll of good, high sloping ground there.
When you go out, McCarty, have one of the dynamiters set fire to the
grass there, so that the ground will be bare for the pitching of our
tents. We don't want to run any chance of being burnt out."
"I don't think we on the machine run so very much danger," observed
Bratton; "not if we keep a good watch out. It is all steel, and, in
case of attack, we can call the ground men aboard and keep the platform
revolving fast. No one can then climb aboard, and the boiler and
machinery will give pretty good protection, while we can use our guns
from the platform to pretty good advantage."
"Good idea," approved McCarty. "I will adopt that plan and tell
Kitchner about it when I go out."
"The dynamiters are a good mile and a half ahead of the machine,"
Captain Westfield observed. "I reckon it wouldn't be a bad idea to add
them to the guard around the camp until the machine catches up with
them a little."
"Good suggestion," Charley approved. "We will do that."
"I have got an amendment to offer to the moving plan," Walter said.
"I suggest that we move camp this afternoon. You have all apparently
forgotten that to-morrow is Sunday, and all hands need a rest."
"You're right," Charley agreed promptly. "Call in all the men except
the crew on the machine, and the bridge builders, Bossie. Get the other
men in the tents to roll out and help. Tell the bridge builders to
throw a bridge across the ditch, so that we can cross and get by the
machine with the truck and wagon."
In a few minutes all was astir in the camp, men busy packing up, others
pulling down and folding up tents, while still others piled them in
the waiting truck and wagon. Within half an hour of giving the orders,
Charley started with the first truckload, carrying with him half of
the Spaniards to pitch the tents on the new camp-site. He found the
knoll burnt clear of grass and the ground still smoking from the recent
fire. Hastily unloading and directing the Spaniards where to set up the
tents, the lad hurried back for another load.
Twenty men working with system can accomplish wonders, and long before
dark the moving was finished and Chris was getting supper in the cook
tent.
"I don't like staking out the mules," said the teamster, as he joined
the rest at supper, "but I can't build a corral for them until
to-morrow. You see, they keep moving around nearly all night, and they
get all tangled up in the ropes and wear the hide off their legs trying
to get free."
"I don't believe they will hurt themselves much in one night," Charley
assured him, "and to-morrow all hands can turn in and build a corral
for them. How much wood have you got ahead?"
"Enough for a week," answered the teamster, brightening. "That Juan
is a first-class worker, and I have been hauling steady. I've got it
strung along the road for a mile ahead of the machine."
As soon as it began to get dark, Charley gave a gun to each of the two
dynamiters, and gave them instructions to join their two countrymen as
guards.
Everyone was tired, and all retired early to their tents. It was agreed
that the machine should stop work at midnight, and that, when her crew
came in, two of the camp guard would go out and keep watch on it the
balance of the night.
Charley was roused up about midnight by the stop whistle of the
machine, and a few minutes later he heard its crew entering the camp,
and the chatter of the two guards, as they went out to take the crew's
place. The lad rolled over with a sigh of content, and dropped off to
sleep again, only to awaken again to the sharp crack of rifles. "Get
up, you fellows," he shouted to his chums. "There's more trouble afoot."
"Great Cæsar," exclaimed Walter, in disgust. "Can't we ever get a good
night's sleep?"
"Don't look that way," said his chum grimly, as he pulled on his
clothes.
Outside the tent the lads found the Captain and engineers just emerging
from their shelters.
Along the road for a mile in front of the machine, huge bonfires were
burning.
"They have fired the woodpiles!" Charley exclaimed. "Well, let 'em
burn. There's more wood where that came from. Let's make for the
machine; that's where the shooting came from."
A few minutes' walk brought them to the digger, where they found the
Spanish guards excited but unhurt. They had fired the guns to let the
camp know of the fire. They were so apparently nervous, however, that
McCarty volunteered to stay with them the balance of the night.
"Well, it might be worse," said Charley, as the little party made their
way back to camp. "They have just made more work for the teamster and
woodchopper, that's all."
But, as they approached close to the camp, they were met by one of the
guards. "_Señors_," cried the man, his voice trembling, "there is
frightful groaning coming from the darkness behind our picket line."
"Where?" demanded the teamster, who had joined the little party.
"Toward the North Star, not far from our picket line," answered the
shaky sentinel.
"Go back to your post, _hombre_," Charley ordered. "We'll get the
lanterns and come right out and see what it is."
The frightened sentinel obeyed, but he moved so slowly that the boys
overtook him before he reached his post.