AN ACCIDENT.
HUNTER greeted the little party with a smile intended to be pleasant
but which resembled a grimace on his sallow, evil face.
"Good day, and how are all of you this fine day. Well, I hope," he said.
"We are all right," Charley answered, curtly. "What do you want?"
"Which of you is the leader of this pleasant little party? I want a
little business talk with the leader," he said, fawningly. "Just a
little business talk. It won't take more than five minutes."
"Wall," observed Captain Westfield, "when we are at sea I'm generally
the head man, but hyar on shore an' at this fishing business, I reckon
Charley thar does the leading."
"And a good leader he is too, I'll bet," said Hunter, flatteringly.
"Oh, cut out all the soft-soap business," said Charley, shortly,
disgusted with the fellow's attempts at flattery. "If you have anything
to say to us say it."
"But it's a private business," Hunter protested. "Just let me talk to
you alone for a few minutes."
Charley was about to refuse the request but curiosity as to what Hunter
wanted to say prevailed. With a wink at his chums he accompanied the
fellow to one side, apart from his companions.
"Now, say what you have to say and be quick about it," he said, curtly.
Hunter hesitated a moment. "Suppose there was something on this island
that I was interested in," he began.
"There is," said Charley, with a grin, "but if you want to talk to me,
talk plainly. I know you buried that aguardiente on the island."
"All right, say I did," agreed Hunter, defiantly, dropping his friendly
pose. "I don't mind saying I did to you. You can't make anything out
of that. If you said I told you I did, I'd swear I didn't. That's why
I wanted to talk to you alone. I wasn't hankering for any witnesses to
our talk.
"Might as well wait and hear what I have to say," he continued,
doggedly, "because I won't say a word before the others."
Charley had started to join his companions but he paused in indecision,
and Hunter went on eagerly.
"Say, I did put the stuff there. Say, I could make a lot of money off
it right now. Say, I ain't going to dig it up with witnesses to see
and testify agin me. Say, I'd give you fifty dollars to take your
party off the island for one single night, one hundred dollars if you
quit the island for good. What would you say to that, eh?"
Charley considered for a moment. "Nothing doing," he replied, slowly.
"In the first place, you and your gang have done us more than one
hundred dollars' damage. No use denying it," he said, hotly, as Hunter
protested his innocence. "You were pretty slick with your tricks but we
know who has been responsible for our troubles. In the second place,
to smuggle in and to sell liquor in a dry county is a felony. If we
connived at we would be guilty also. Third, I wouldn't take your word
for anything. Lastly, I don't know where the stuff is, anyway."
"You lie!" snarled Hunter, his little black eyes flashing evilly. "You
know where it is buried."
Charley grew white around the lips. "Be careful what you say," he
cautioned. "If you will just follow me, I'll show you something."
He led the way in silence to where the liquor had been buried.
At sight of the hole and the freshly upturned earth, Hunter grew livid
with rage.
"You've stole it, you've stole it," he gasped.
"We have not touched the stuff," Charley denied. "If you fellows didn't
remove it, I don't know who did."
"A likely yarn," Hunter sneered. "Nobody knew it was on the island
except you and us." He conquered his rage with an effort. "Say," he
said, "let's be partners in this. You can't sell the stuff like we can.
You don't know the fellows who will buy and keep their mouths shut like
we do. I tell you, even we, have to be mighty careful. Why, you'd get
arrested before you got it half sold out. Let's be partners; that's
fair. There's good money in it. You fellows could tend to the running
of it and we could do the selling. We would split the profits up even."
His earnestness convinced the lad that Bill Roberts was right. The
fishermen had not got the liquor.
"I have told you the truth, Hunter," he said. "We have not got the
stuff and we do not know who has."
"You're holding out on us," Hunter fairly screamed. "You are trying to
hog the whole thing. All right, young fellow, what we will do to you
will be a plenty. We haven't started on you good, yet. We'll make you
regret the day you were born before we are through with you."
"Get off this island," commanded Charley, his patience at an end. "Try
all your tricks you want to. We are on the watch for them now. Sometime
you'll make a slip and we'll take a turn. Now go!"
Hunter walked down to his boat sullenly, muttering oaths and threats
that Charley ignored.
"That fellow is cunning," the lad said, as he related the conversation
to his companions. "He admitted everything, but the admission does us
no good. He would swear he had said nothing of the kind and the rest of
you could not testify for you did not hear his words."
The incident depressed the spirits of all. They had begun to think the
persecutions were over and now they threatened to begin afresh.
"Well, there is no help for it," said Charley. "We will have to endure
it until we get our plan to working. We will just have to be on our
guard day and night until it is settled. Let's turn in now and forget
it while we catch a nap. We will need the rest if we are going out at
midnight."
They had no watch amongst them but Charley possessed the not uncommon
gift of being able to wake at any hour he desired. When he awoke he
satisfied himself by a glance at the stars that he was not mistaken in
the hour and then aroused his companions.
As the time was short before daylight, they ran but a little way from
the dock before anchoring the launch and taking to the boats.
They had hardly got fairly started with the skiffs when Charley called
a halt.
"See anything over where you are, Walt?" he called.
"Yes," shouted back his chum, eagerly, "the water is alive with fish of
some kind."
"Same here," Charley stated, "but I can't make out just what they are.
They are not catfish, and yet, they don't fire just like mullet. Let's
try them with just a little piece of our nets and see what they are
before we make a big circle."
They had run out but a few yards of net when he gave the signal to
close up. "We will not drum up any," he said, as he halted his boat
just inside the little circle. "We will get enough in the nets,
without, to tell what they are and will not frighten the rest of the
school."
A few minutes sufficed to pick up the few yards of net they had out.
Charley scanned his puzzledly as it came inboard. It contained no fish
but was filled with great gaping holes here and there.
"Not a scale," he announced, disgustedly. "Did you fellows get
anything?"
"Nothing but a lot of holes," said Captain Westfield.
"I've got a lot of the queerest looking fish I ever saw," Walter
exclaimed. "Row over and take a look at them. One of them bit me. Gee!
but it hurts!"
A few strokes of his oars brought Charley alongside and he peeped over
into his chum's skiff.
A score of big, eel-like, repulsive-looking creatures squirmed in the
bottom.
One glance and Charley, chucking his anchor aboard Walter's skiff,
sprang into it.
"Quick, show me where it bit you!" he cried.
Walter held out a hand in the palm of which a tiny puncture oozed out
occasional drops of blood.
Charley whipped out a cord from his pocket, bound it loosely around the
wrist of the wounded hand and thrusting an oarlock in the slack twisted
it around until the cord dented into the flesh. "Now, stick your hand
over into the water and keep it there," he commanded.
Seizing an oar, he gingerly ladled the repulsive-looking creature out
of the skiff.
"Whew! My arm aches clear up to the shoulder!" Walter exclaimed. "What
were those nasty-looking fish, anyway?"
"Morays, a kind of salt water eel," said his chum, gravely. "I don't
want to frighten you, dear old chum, but those things are poisonous,
almost as poisonous as a snake."
Walter received the startling information coolly. "I suspected they
were poisonous as soon as my arm began to ache," he said, quietly.
"Will I lose my hand do you think?"
"I guess not," lied Charley, cheerfully. He could not bear to tell him
that he was likely to lose his life as well as his hand.
Calling the captain to follow, the lad rowed the two skiffs to the
launch, made them fast, and helped his chum aboard. As soon as the
captain fastened on, he started the engine and headed the launch back
for the dock. He was thankful that they had not come far from home,
for, short as the distance was, before they reached the little pier,
Walter's arm had swollen to twice its natural size and he had fallen
into a kind of listless stupor. The captain and Charley helped him
tenderly out of the launch and supported him up to the cabin where they
laid him out on his couch.
Charley looked about in helpless despair. "If I only had some of that
aguardiente, now, there would be a good chance to save him," he said,
bitterly. "I don't think there was time for much of that poison to get
into his circulation before I got the cord around his wrist and shut it
off. Well, it isn't much use, but we will make a fight for it. Chris,
heat up some water, quick, and make a big pot of coffee, as strong as
you can make it."
The little negro flew to do his bidding and, in a few minutes, Charley
had the wounded hand plunged in a bucket of scalding hot water and
was forcing cup after cup of strong, steaming coffee down his chum's
throat.