MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF THE CANOES.
"The canoes are gone!" cried Worth.
"It looks like it," replied Sumner, in an equally dismayed tone.
"Are you sure this is where we left them?"
"Yes; sure. There is the stern line that we made fast to the _Cupid_,
or what is left of it."
Sure enough, there was a portion of the light line still fast to the
tree, and as Sumner pulled it in, both boys bent over to examine it. It
had been broken, and not cut. From its length it must also have been
broken close to the canoe.
"Oh, Sumner, what shall we do?" asked Worth, in a tone of such despair
that the former at once realized the necessity of some immediate action
to divert his comrade's thoughts.
"Do?" he cried. "There's plenty to do. First, we'll go down to that
point and take a look to seaward; for, as the tide is running out,
they are more likely to have gone in that direction than any other. It
would be a comfort even to catch a glimpse of them. Then, perhaps, they
have only drifted away, and are stranded on some bar near by. Besides
looking for the canoes, we must build some kind of a shelter for the
night, cook supper, and discuss our plans for the future. Oh yes, we've
plenty to do!"
While he spoke, the boys were making their way to the point in
question, and when they reached it, they eagerly scanned every foot of
water in sight. Diagonally to the right from where they stood stretched
the long reach of Lower Metacumba, desolate and uninhabited as they
knew. Almost directly in front, but several miles away, rose the
palm-crowned rocks of Indian Key, with its two or three old shed-like
buildings in plain view. These had been used and abandoned years
before by the builders of Alligator Light, the slender tower of which
they could see rising from the distant waters above the outer reef.
Diagonally on the left was the tiny green form of Tea Table Key, and
dimly beyond it they could make out the coast of Upper Metacumba, which
Sumner said was inhabited. In all this far-reaching view, however,
there were no signs of the missing canoes.
"I'm glad of it!" said Sumner, after his long searching gaze had failed
to reveal them. "It would be rough to have them in sight but out of
reach."
Already the sun was sinking behind the tree-tops of Lower Metacumba,
fish were leaping in the placid waters, and a few pelican were soaring
with steady poise above them. Every now and then these would swoop
swiftly down, with a heavy splash that generally sealed the fate of
one or more mullet off which the great birds were making their evening
meal. A flock of black cormorants, uttering harsh cries, flew overhead
with a rushing sound, returning from a day's fishing to their roosts
in the distant Everglades. With these exceptions, and the faint boom
of the surf on the outer reef, all was silence and desertion. Besides
the light-house tower there was no sign of human life, not even the
distant glimmer of a sail. While the boys still looked longingly for
some trace of their canoes, the sunset, and a red flash, followed at
short intervals by two white ones, shot out from the vanishing form of
Alligator Light.
"Come!" cried Sumner, heedful of this warning. "Night is almost here,
and we have too much to do in every precious minute of twilight to be
standing idle. I'll take the bucket and run to the pond for water,
while you cut all the palmetto leaves you possibly can, and carry them
to the place where we landed."
"The bucket?" repeated Worth, looking about him inquiringly. "Where
are you going to find it?"
Without answering, Sumner sprang down the rocks to the water's edge,
where he had noticed a stranded bamboo, and quickly cut out a short
section of it with the hatchet that he had thrust into his belt before
leaving the canoes. As he made the cuts just below two of the joints,
his section was a hollow cylinder, open at one end, but having a tight
bottom and capable of holding several quarts of water. With this he
plunged into the forest in the direction of the pond, handing Worth the
hatchet as he passed, and bidding him be spry with his palmetto leaves.
A few minutes later, as Sumner emerged from the trees, carrying his
full water-bucket, and breathless with his haste, he indistinctly saw
the form of some animal at the very place where they had left their
guns and birds. As the boy dashed forward, uttering a loud cry, the
alarmed animal scuttled off into the bushes.
"Oh, you vil-li-an!" gasped Sumner as he reached the place, "I'll
settle with you to-morrow, see if I don't."
Four of the doves had disappeared, and the head was torn from one of
the ducks.
"What is it?" cried Worth, in alarm, as he entered the clearing from
the opposite side, staggering beneath an immense load of cabbage-palm
leaves.
"A rascally thieving 'coon," answered Sumner, "and he has got away with
the best part of our provisions, too; but I'll get even with him yet.
Now give me the hatchet, and then pick up all the drift-wood you can
find, while I build a house."
Worth would gladly have helped erect the house, as Sumner called it,
for he was very curious as to what sort of a structure could be built
of leaves, but he realized the necessity of doing as he was bidden, and
at once set to work gathering wood. Sumner, after carefully propping
his water-bucket between two rocks, so as to insure the safety of its
contents, began cutting a number of slender saplings, and turning them
into poles. The stoutest of these he bound with withes to two trees
that stood about six feet apart. He fastened it to their trunks as high
as he could reach. Then he bound one end of the longer poles to it,
allowing them to slant to the ground behind. Crosswise of these, and
about a foot apart, he tied a number of still more slender poles, and
over these laid the broad leaves. He would have tied these securely in
place if he had had time. As he had not, for it was quite dark before
he finished even this rude shelter, he was forced to leave them so, and
hope that a wind would not arise during the night. For himself alone
he would not have built any shelter, but would have found a comfortable
resting-place under a tree. Knowing, however, that Worth had never in
his life slept without a roof of some kind above him, he thought it
best to provide one, and thereby relieve their situation of a portion
of the terror with which the city-bred boy was inclined to regard it.
It was curious and interesting to note how a sense of responsibility,
and the care of one younger and much more helpless than himself, was
developing Sumner's character. Already the selfishness to which he was
inclined had very nearly disappeared, while almost every thought was
for the comfort and happiness of his companion. Worth, accustomed to
being cared for and having every wish gratified, hardly appreciated
this as yet; but the emergencies of their situation were teaching him
valuable lessons of prompt obedience and self-reliance that he could
have gained in no other way.
As Sumner finished his rude lean-to, and placed the guns within its
shelter for protection from the heavy night dews, Worth came up from
the beach with his last load of drift-wood. It was now completely dark,
and the notes of chuck-wills-widows were mingling with the "whoo,
whoo, whoo ah-h!" of a great hoot owl in the forest behind them.
"Now for a fire and some supper," cried Sumner, cheerily. "You've got
some matches, haven't you?"
"I don't believe I have," replied Worth, anxiously feeling in his
pockets. "I thought you must have some."
"No, I haven't a sign of one!" exclaimed Sumner, and an accent of
hopelessness was for the first time allowed to enter his voice. "They
are all aboard the canoes, and without a fire we are in a pretty pickle
sure enough. I wonder how hungry we'll get before we make up our minds
to eat raw duck? This is worse than losing the canoes. I declare I
don't know what to do."
"Couldn't we somehow make a fire with a gun? Seems to me I have read of
something of that kind," suggested Worth.
"Of course we can!" shouted Sumner, springing to his feet. "What a gump
I was not to think of it! If we collect a lot of dry stuff and shoot
into it, there is bound to be a spark or two that we can capture and
coax into a flame."
So, with infinite pains, they felt around in the dark until they had
collected a considerable pile of dry leaves, sticks, and other rubbish
that they imagined would easily take fire. Then, throwing a loaded
shell into a barrel of his gun, and placing the muzzle close to the
collected kindlings, Sumner pulled the trigger. There was a blinding
flash, a loud report that rolled far and wide through the heavy night
air, and the heap of rubbish was blown into space. Not a leaf remained
to show where it had been, and not the faintest spark relieved the
darkness that instantly shut in more dense than ever.
"One cartridge spent in buying experience," remarked Sumner, as soon
as he discovered the attempt to be a failure. "Now we'll try another.
If you will kindly collect another pile of kindling, I'll prepare some
fireworks on a different plan."
Thus saying, he spread his handkerchief on the ground, cut off the
crimping of another shell with his pocket-knife, carefully extracted
the shot and half the powder, and confined the remainder in the bottom
of the shell with one of the wads. Then he moistened the powder that he
had taken out, and rubbed it thoroughly into the handkerchief, which
he placed in the second pile of sticks and leaves that Worth had by
this time gathered. A shot taken at this with the lightly charged blank
cartridge produced the desired effect. Five minutes later the cheerful
blaze of a crackling fire illumined the scene, and banished a cloud of
anxiety from the minds of the young castaways.