The Boy Chums In The Forest Part 21

"Then you needn't wait another minute," cried the old sailor, who was nearly as excited as the boys. "Get your spade an' we'll start right in."

"We haven't got one," confessed Charley, suddenly crestfallen. "What a fool I was not to think of that."

"Golly, I reckon dis n.i.g.g.e.r goin' to fix up somethin' to dig with mighty quick," cried Chris, whose eyes were sparkling with antic.i.p.ation.

Running down to the canoe, the little darkey was back in a moment with one of the paddles. "Reckon dis will do," he said, "got to be mighty careful not to break it, though."

Armed with the implement, which Chris' thoughtfulness had provided, they lost no time in making their way to the lone palm.

The next perplexing question was on which side of the tree to dig.

"It's as likely to be on one side as the other," Charley declared. "We might as well start in at random and dig a circle around the tree until we come to it."

The others had no better plan to suggest, and Walter, seizing the paddle, began to throw the dirt away. Luckily the soil was not packed hard, for even, loose as it was, progress was very slow with the rude implement he was wielding. At the end of an hour, he was content to surrender the paddle to the captain, who, when tired, turned it over to Chris.

It was slow work and the sun was getting low in the west when the circle around the palm was at last completed, and the diggers stood looking at each other with disappointment written on their faces.

"We must go deeper," Charley declared, "I am certain that this is the right spot, and the chief would have had no interest in deceiving or misleading us."

"We have gone down two feet already," said Walter, in a discouraged voice, as he started wielding the paddle again. "I guess there is something wrong with our calculation, Charley." He stopped suddenly and looked up with a comical look of surprise and antic.i.p.ation.

"I struck something," he announced breathlessly, "something kind of soft and yielding."

"Go on," Charley shouted in his excitement, and Walter bent to his task again.

The removal of a few more shovelfuls of earth exposed to view a large, dark, hairy object. Stooping, Walter with difficulty lifted it out of the hole.

All cl.u.s.tered close around it in their eagerness.

What had looked at first glance like a large, dead animal, proved to be a deer-hide stretched on framework, the hairy side out. A few slashes of Charley's hunting-knife laid open this rude leather box and revealed to their eager gaze a smaller similar box inside. Charley lifted it out and cut away the top.

By the now dim light, they could only see the tapering shapes of hundreds of long plumes carefully packed inside.

"There must be all of fifty pounds of them," said Walter, in an awe-struck voice, "why, they'll make us rich men."

"Give me a hand to carry them up to the wigwam," said Charley. "Run ahead, Chris, and stir up the fire so we can see what we have got."

The excited captain swung the box upon his shoulder and strode forward hard upon Chris' heels. He laid his burden down close to the fire and all crowded around.

One look and a loud murmur of disappointment broke from every lip.

What the dim twilight had hid, the firelight revealed in all its disheartening truth. What had been once a beautiful heap of valuable plumes, now lay an ugly ma.s.s of mildew and mould.

For a moment no one spoke, so keen was their disappointment. At last, Charley summoned up a feeble smile.

"Well, we are no worse off than we were before," he remarked with a voice that he endeavored to render cheerful.

"That's the way to take a disappointment, lad," said the captain, heartily. "A pound of meat is worth more to us now than a hundred pounds of plumes, anyway. Now, Chris, quit your grieving an' see if you can't rustle up some supper. I reckon we'll all feel better after a warm bite."

"What shall I do with them, Charley?" asked Walter, who had remained kneeling by the ruined treasure.

"Throw them away, they are valueless," exclaimed his chum somewhat testily, for his disappointment was almost more than he could bear cheerfully.

Walter lifted the leather box and disappeared in the darkness toward the water. He did not throw it into the stream, however, but after a moment's hesitation on the bank, descended to his canoe and, shoving his burden far up under the stern deck, retraced his steps to the fire.

In spite of their attempts at cheerfulness, the gloom of their disappointment hung heavy upon them, and it was rather a silent group that gathered in the wigwam after supper. Chris and the captain soon sought their beds and ere long their loud, regular breathing told that they had found solace for the disappointment of the day. The two boys felt too excited to sleep and sat long talking over their still perilous situation.

Suddenly, as on the other two nights, began the now familiar tolling of the mysterious bell.

The captain stirred uneasily in his sleep and Chris opened his eyes drowsily but soon fell off to sleep again.

"Come outside, Walt, where we can talk without the chance of being overheard," Charley whispered.

The two lads stole softly out of the wigwam and down to the water's edge where they sat down on the gra.s.sy bank.

"Now listen closely," Charley commanded.

CHAPTER XXIII.

MORE MYSTERY.

The two boys remained quiet for several minutes listening to the bell's deep toned tolling. At last Walter remarked, "It don't sound as though it was very far away from us, not over two miles, I should say."

"Good," exclaimed Charley with satisfaction, "I was about to ask you what you thought the distance was. Two miles is about what I had estimated. We can't say very exactly, for sound is likely to travel far in this still air. But let us make a liberal allowance for the stillness. I think we are safe in saying that the sound comes from a point not more than four miles distant from this island. Now, the next question is, from what direction does it come?"

"It's hard to tell exactly, the sound seems to fill the air so, but I should say that it came from the westward," said Walter after another moment of careful listening.

"We agree again," declared Charley, "it is not likely that we are both mistaken. Now that we have settled the distance and the direction from which the sound comes, what do you say to starting out in the morning and trying to solve the mystery?"

"The captain will not let us go," Walter objected.

"For this once, I do not intend to consult him," Charley said. "We will get off before he is awake. We can leave a note saying that we will be back before dark."

"Good," exclaimed his chum, "even if we accomplish nothing else, we may find an island that can be defended better than this one."

So it was settled and the boys crept back to bed eager for the coming of the morrow.

The eastern sky was just beginning to lighten a little when the boys got up and dressed, collected what cold food they could find, and, leaving a note where the captain could not fail to find it, stole down to the canoe and quietly embarked.

Charley's shoulder was still too sore to permit of his using the paddle so he made himself comfortable in the bow while Walter in the stern wielded the blade.

The canoe was headed around to the westward, as near as they could determine, for the point from whence had come the tolling of the bell.

"I noticed what looked like a large island, from our camp, about two miles off and in the direction we are headed," observed Walter as they glided swiftly away.

"I noticed it too," Charley answered, "and I do not think we can do better than start our search there, if it proves to be an island. We will be there in an hour at this rate. I wish I could spell you, Walt, but it don't seem right for you to be doing all the work."