Deep Sea Omnibus

by

Roy Rockwood

Book Index

The Wizard of the Sea

The Rival Ocean Divers (*)

The Cruise of the Treasure Ship (*)

Adrift on the Pacific (*)

Jack North's Treasure Hunt

* This book is not currently available as an eBook. It will be added to this volume if and when it becomes available.

THE WIZARD OF THE SEA

or

A Trip Under the Ocean

A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS

NEW YORK

Copyright, 1900

by

THE MERSHON COMPANY

IN FRONT OF HIM WAS A HUGE OCTOPUS.

Contents

I. INTRODUCING OUR HEROES.

II. A TERRIFIC EXPLOSION.

III. THE GREAT FIGHT.

IV. ON THE ROAD.

V. HOKE UMMER'S TREACHERY.

VI. OUT ON THE BAY.

VII. A LIVELY ENCOUNTER.

VIII. MONT IS PUNISHED.

IX. DOCTOR HOMER WODDLE.

X. THE SUBMARINE TERROR.

XI. ON THE BACK OF THE MONSTER.

XII. INSIDE OF THE "SEARCHER."

XIII. THE OWNER OF THE SUBMARINE MONSTER.

XIV. THE ATTACK.

XV. PRISONERS.

XVI. THE MYSTERIES OF THE "SEARCHER."

XVII. THE DEVIL FISH.

XVIII. MONT IS LOST.

XIX. MONT'S PERIL.

XX. THE WRECKS.

XXI. ON LAND ONCE MORE.

XXII. FIGHTING THE SAVAGES.

XXIII. ELECTRIFYING THE SAVAGES.

XXIV. A PEARL WORTH A FORTUNE.

XXV. THE MAN OF MYSTERY.

XXVI. THROUGH THE EARTH.

XXVII. THE ESCAPE—CONCLUSION.

I. INTRODUCING OUR HEROES

"Hip, hurrah! Hip, hurrah!"

"Well, I declare; Mont Folsom, what is the matter with you?"

"Matter? Nothing is the matter, Tom, only I'm going to a boarding school—just the best place on the face of the earth, too—Nautical Hall, on the seacoast."

"Humph! I didn't know as how a boarding school was such a jolly place," grumbled old Tom Barnstable. "They'll cane ye well if ye git into mischief, lad."

"Will they, Tom? What for? I never do any wrong," and Mont Folsom put on a very sober face.

"Jest to hear the lad! Never do no mischief! Ha! ha! Why you're the wust boy in the town fer mischief, Mont—an' everybody knows it. A nautical school, did ye say. Maybe they'll take ye out in a ship some time in that case."

"They do take the pupils out—every summer, so Carl Barnaby was telling me. He goes there, you know, and so does Link Harmer."

"Then you an' Carl will make a team—an' Heaven help the folks as comes in your way," added Tom Barnstable decidedly.

"But we are not so bad, I tell you, Tom," said Mont, but with a sly twinkle in his bright eyes.

"Oh, no, not at all. But jest you tell me who drove the cow into Squire Borden's dining room and who stuffed the musical instruments of the brass band with sawdust at the Fourth of July celebration? You never do anything, you little innocent lamb!"

And with a loud guffaw the old character sauntered down the street toward his favorite resort, the general store.

Montrose Folsom continued on his way. He was a handsome youth of fifteen, tall and square-shouldered, with a taking way about him that had made him a host of friends. He was the only son of Mrs. Alice Folsom, a rich widow.

A moment after leaving Tom Barnstable, Mont reached the home of his particular chum, Lincoln Harmer. Throwing open the gate, he espied Link in the barnyard, and made a rush forward.

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"

"That settles it, Mont, you're going with me next term!" exclaimed Link, a bright fellow of our hero's age.

"If I wasn't I'd sing a dirge instead of shouting, Link. Yes, it's all settled, and I'll be ready to start with you Monday."

"Your mother has written to Captain Hooper?"

"Yes, and got word back in to-day's mail."

"Good!"

"I'm to buy a lot of things down to Carley's store and then go home and start to pack up. Come on."

Arm in arm, the two chums made their way to the large general store, where Tom Barnstable was again encountered. Here Mont purchased some extra underclothing his mother said he needed. While he was at this Tom Barnstable came close to him.

"When are ye goin' away?" he asked.

"Monday morning, six o'clock."

"Don't fergit the old man, Mont. We've had lots of good times—fishin' an' huntin', ye know."

That was Tom Barnstable, good-natured and willing to do, but an absolute beggar at the slightest chance.

"I won't forget you, Tom, not I," said the merry-hearted lad. "Here you are," and he slipped a shining dollar into the man's hand. A moment later he called one of the store clerks aside.

"Have you any of those April-fool cigars left?" he whispered.

"Yes—just four."

"I'll take them."

The cigars bought and paid for, the boy put three of them in an inside pocket and then turned the fourth over to Tom Barnstable.

"Here, Tom, put the pipe away and have a real Havana to celebrate the parting," he said, and the old man immediately did as requested.

The cigar burnt all right for just half a minute. Then something began to bulge at the end. It kept growing larger and larger, forming into what is called a Pharaoh's serpent, three or four feet long.

Tom Barnstable's eyes began to blaze. He stared at Mont wildly.

"Who—what—what is that?" he stammered. "Great Scott! I've got 'em!"

And, dashing the weed to the floor, he rushed from the country store, with the boys' laugh ringing in his ears.

"He'll remember you now, no doubt of that!" said Link merrily.

The day was Saturday, and it was a busy one for both Mont and Link, with packing trunks and bags, and getting ready otherwise.

The Sabbath passed quietly enough, and five o'clock Monday morning found the two boys on their way to Nautical Hall.

The run of the train was to New York, and here they fell in with their mutual chum, Carl Barnaby, a rich young fellow from their town, and several others who will be introduced as our story progresses.

From the Metropolis the boys took another train directly for the seacoast. At Pemberton they had to change cars, and here they met several more scholars of Nautical Hall.

"There is Ike Brosnan and Hoke Ummer!" cried Link. "Two of our fellows."

The newcomers were quickly introduced. Ike Brosnan looked a whole-souled fellow and full of fun. Hoke Ummer, on the other hand, seemed of a decidedly sour turn of mind.

"Hoke is a good deal of a bully," whispered Link, later on. "You want to steer clear of him."

"Thanks; he'll not step on my toes," returned Mont firmly. "The first man who tries to haze or bully me will get his fingers burnt."

"Oh, the boys will be sure to want a little fun. You mustn't be too particular."

"I don't mean that—I mean they mustn't go too far," replied Mont.

Little did he dream of all the hazings and larks to be played ere that school term should be over.

The journey to the seacoast was devoid of any special incident. The ride on the train was magnificent, and all enjoyed it thoroughly.

Towards nightfall a landing was made not many miles from Eagle Point. Here at the dock a long stage was in waiting to take them to the Hall. The four boys, along with a dozen others, got aboard, and they moved off rapidly for Nautical Hall, two miles distant.

II. A TERRIFIC EXPLOSION

Nautical Hall was a large building of brick, stone, and wood situated at the top of a small hill. In front was a level parade ground, and to one side the grounds sloped down to the edge of a small bay, while at the other they were flanked by a heavy wood.

The institution was owned and managed by Captain Hooper, an ex-army and -navy officer, who looked to the military drill of the boys and left the educational department to an able corps of assistants. With the assistants and the gallant captain himself we will become better acquainted as our tale proceeds.

Mont soon became acquainted with nearly all of the one hundred and odd boys who attended Nautical Hall, and became the leader of a set composed of himself, Link Harmer, Barry Powell, another lively lad, Carl Barnaby, his old-time chum, Piggy Mumps, a fat youth, and Sam Schump, a German pupil, as good-natured as can possibly be imagined.

As soon as the boys arrived they were assigned to their places. Mont was put in the room with the crowd above mentioned. This room connected with another, in which were installed the bully, Hoke Ummer; Bill Goul, his toady, and half a dozen of the bully's cronies.

"This room will get into a free fight with that gang some day," was Barry Powell's comment, after Schump, the German boy, had related how the bully had treated him.

"Dot's it, mine gracious," replied Sam Schump. "Ve vill git togedder an' show dem vot ve can do, aint it!"

Several days were spent in getting ready for the term. Mont was placed in the first class, with twenty others, and he was likewise put in an awkward squad to learn the steps and manual of arms, for the boys had regular military and naval exercises.

As luck would have it, our hero was placed under one of the assistant teachers, and fared very well, but poor Piggy Mumps was put in a squad under Hoke Ummer, who did all he could to make the fat boy miserable.

"Eyes right! Eyes left! Front!" shouted Hoke. "Why don't you mind, you clown!" he added to poor Piggy, who was in a sweat to do as ordered.

"Vot you say, eyes right an' den eyes left, ven da vos right?" asked Piggy innocently.

"Silence! Eyes right! Eyes left! You clown, can't you twist your eyes, or are you too fat?" roared Hoke.

"Ton't vos call me a clown, you—you unchentlemanly poy!" cried Piggy wrathfully, when without warning Hoke fell upon him and hit him a blow on the neck.

This was too much for Piggy, and he ran out of the line and closed with the bully. But he was no match for the big boy, and Piggy would have been severely punished had not Hoke been caught by the shoulder and hurled backward against a wall.

"Let him alone!" came in the voice of Mont. "You have no right to touch him, Hoke Ummer."

"Haven't I, though?" sneered the bully. "Do you suppose I'm going to be made a fool of by a lump of fat like that? You clear out, or I'll give you a dose, too!"

"You can try it on any time you please," replied our hero quietly.

"A fight! A fight!" exclaimed half a dozen at once, and the awkward squad was broken up on the instant.

"A fight?" repeated the bully. "He'll get a thrashing—that's all it will amount to. Come on down to the woods if you want to have it out."

"I'm willing to meet you," returned Mont, and started along, followed by Piggy, Link, and a dozen others.

But scarcely had the boys gone a rod before the belfry bell rang out loudly five times.

That was the signal for assembly on the parade grounds.

"Hullo, we can't go now!" cried Link. "Boys, you'll have to postpone that mill till later."

"I'll meet you after assembly," growled Hoke Ummer, under his breath, as Captain Hooper put in an appearance.

"I'll be ready any time," rejoined our hero.

"Boys, we are to have visitors in fifteen minutes!" shouted out Captain Hooper. "Attention! The captains will form their companies on the campus and a salute will be fired as the visitors enter the grounds."

Orders were quickly passed, and inside of five minutes the boy cadets were drawn up in long lines, with the officers of the two companies in their proper places.

The visitors were old friends of the captain who had come to the Hall merely out of curiosity. As their carriages approached, a cannon was run out, and Link and several others were detailed to fire it off.

Link chose Mont to assist, and before long all was in readiness to touch her off.

"Here they come!" shouted somebody.

"Stand ready to fire!" sang out Captain Hooper, in true military style. "Steady, boys, now—I expect all to make the best possible appearance. Fire!"

Link touched the cannon off, while our hero and several others stood close at hand.

Bang!

The report was terrific. The old cannon was overcharged, and was blown into a thousand pieces, which flew in all directions.

Both Link and Mont were hurled flat, and while the former was seen to stagger up again, our hero lay as one dead!

III. THE GREAT FIGHT

"He is dead!"

"Run for the doctor!"

"A piece struck me, too!"

"The cannon must have been overloaded!"

Such were some of the cries which went up after the awful explosion.

Captain Hooper stood close at hand, and instantly went to our hero's assistance.

He caught the youth up in his arms and carried him to a shady spot.

"Bring some water," he commanded, but water was already at hand. With it he bathed Mont's head.

For a minute there was an intense silence. Then, with a quiver, the lad opened his eyes.

"Wha—what—— Did the cannon burst?" he asked feebly.

"Hurrah! He's all right!" shouted Link joyfully, and inside of five minutes more Mont stood up and gazed about him in wonder.

But he was too weak to take part in the review, and while this went on sat in a rustic chair under the oak tree, with several of the lady visitors by his side.

The reception to the guests over, the cadets were dismissed, and the crowd lost no time in dispersing.

Link remained with his chum, and both walked towards the lake.

"How do you feel?" asked Link anxiously.

"Rather faint in the legs, to tell the truth," was the reply. "But I guess I'll soon get over it."

"Ready to do that fighting?" demanded a rough voice at their elbow, and Hoke Ummer ranged up at their side.

"For shame, Hoke, Mont isn't in condition, and you know it," said Link.

"Oh, nonsense!" growled the bully. "That cannon affair was only a fake. He wasn't hurt a bit."

This remark angered our hero, and, stepping up, he faced the bully defiantly.

"I will fight you whenever you say," he said stoutly.

A boy standing near heard the remark, and the news spread like magic.

"A fight between Hoke and Mont. Come on down to the woods."

The schoolboy cadets needed no second invitation. A score started from the campus instantly.

They were about evenly divided as to who would win.

The bully was known to be heavy and strong.

Yet our hero had shown lots of pluck.

In a corner of the grounds, shut out from view from the school windows by a belt of trees, the boys assembled to witness the conflict.

Mont prepared for the encounter, assisted by Link.

Ummer, satisfied of an easy victory, placed himself in the hands of his toady and backer, Bill Goul.

When the combatants were declared ready they faced each other.

As Hoke looked into the unflinching eyes of his opponent the smile of satisfaction he had worn for the past few hours suddenly faded.

He could see he must do his best to win.

"But I'll mash him, see if I don't," he said to his toadies.

"That's right, Hoke!"

"Show him what you can do."

Mont said nothing.

"He's a tough one," whispered Link. "Beware of a foul."

"I'll have my eyes open."

The boys took off their coats and vests.

A ring was formed and our hero and the bully got into position.

"Time!" cried one of the older boys, and the great fight began.

At first Mont was cautious, for he wanted to take his opponent's measure, so to speak.

Sure of victory, the bully rushed at him, and aimed a blow at Mont's nose.

Our hero ducked, and Hoke's fist only sawed the air.

"That was a clean duck."

"Land him one, Hoke!"

"Go for him, Folsom!"

Around and around the ring went the two boys.

Then the bully aimed another blow at our hero.

As quick as a flash our hero warded it off.

Then out shot his fist, and the bully of Nautical Hall got a crashing blow in the chin that knocked him clean off his feet.

What a yell went up!

"Hoke is knocked out!"

"Did you ever see such a blow?"

Wild with rage, the bully was assisted to his feet by several friends.

The blood flowed from his chin and from a cut lip.

"I'll show you yet!" he hissed, and again went at Mont.

But our hero was cool and collected, while the bully was excited.

The bully got in one little body blow, but that was all, while our hero fairly played all over his face.

"Better give it up, Hoke!"

"You are outclassed against Mont Folsom!"

"Let me be!" howled the bully.

With every blow that our hero delivered Ummer's anger increased.

His reputation, he felt, was at stake.

If he was beaten that would be the end of him, so far as bossing the boys was concerned.

At last Mont hit him a stinging blow on the ear that caused him to roll over and over.

IV. ON THE ROAD

The bully was knocked out completely, and had to acknowledge Mont the victor of the encounter.

This he did with very bad grace, and a minute later sneaked off with his toady.

"I'll get even for that," he growled. "He'll be sorry he ever tackled me."

"You'll have to watch Hoke Ummer," said Link, some time later, when the crowd had dispersed. "He is a treacherous fellow."

"I'll have my eyes open," returned our hero.

Yet little did he dream of the dastardly way in which the bully would try to get even.

It did not take Mont long to settle down at Nautical Hall. The fight had made him many friends, and established him as a sort of leader among a certain set.

On the following Saturday Link proposed that he, Barry Powell, and Mont take a stroll down to the village.

The others were willing, and soon the party was on the way.

"I'll get some stuff for a midnight feast while I am at it," said Mont.

Soon the school was left behind, and they came out on the village highway.

"Hark!" cried Barry suddenly.

"What is it?" demanded Mont.

Barry was listening intently to a dull, heavy tramping sound, which was wafted faintly toward them on the breeze.

"Do you hear that?" he asked excitedly.

Link and Mont listened, and could distinctly hear a low thud, thud, thud in the distance.

"What does it mean?" Link asked.

"It means that a pair of ponies, or horses, have run away, and are coming along at a tearing gallop."

As if in corroboration of Barry's words, at that moment a light phaeton, drawn by two high-spirited ponies, which were pounding along at the top of their speed, burst round the bend of the road.

The vehicle was rocking from side to side, and every moment threatened to hurl it into one of the deep ditches which lined the road.

As the boys gazed at the approaching carriage Mont's heart seemed to stand still.

"Fellows!" he cried, "there is someone in the phaeton—a lady, I believe."

"So there is!" gasped Link, in tones of horror. "What shall we do?"

"We must stop them."

With his face whiter than usual, and his lips tightly compressed, our hero ran down the road.

"He is courting death," said his chum, beneath his breath, "but we may be of some use."

And both started after their companion.

Mont was running at the top of his speed, for he saw that the occupant of the carriage was only a young girl, and utterly helpless, and that every second's delay endangered her life.

On and on he went, until he was within a score of yards of the maddened steeds.

Then he planted himself firmly in the middle of the road and prepared for a spring.

Fiercely the ponies dashed onward.

Nearer and nearer they came, until it seemed they must inevitably trample him beneath their iron-shod hoofs.

But our hero never wavered.

Motionless he crouched there until the end of the pole almost touched his cheek.

Then he leaped up and caught both the bridles in his strong, nervous grip.

The ponies, with loud whinnies of rage, tossed up their heads and lifted him from his feet, but he clung tenaciously to them.

They dragged him along the ground for a few yards, and then their speed began to slacken.

Link now came up, and the vicious little brutes were brought to a standstill.

Then Mont, thoroughly exhausted, sank in a heap upon the ground.

As soon as the carriage was stopped in its wild career, a fair and beautiful girl sprang out.

"Oh, is he very much hurt?" she cried, as she raised her clasped hands in despair.

Our hero staggered to his feet, and as he gazed on the fairy-like form and sweet, delicate face his cheeks flushed and his heart beat quickly.

"I am not hurt at all," he said stoutly, although his arms and legs and every portion of his body ached as though he had been upon the rack.

"How can I thank you?" she exclaimed. "If it had not been for you, I shudder to think what might have happened. You saved my life."

At this praise our hero blushed more than ever.

"I require no thanks," he said. "I am rewarded enough by knowing I have been of some service to you, but I think you are scarcely strong enough to be trusted with such high-spirited animals."

"My father would never have thought of such a thing," she replied. "He alighted at a cottage to visit one of his old friends, and while he was inside the ponies bolted. But here he comes, and I know he will be better able to thank you than I am."

She pointed to the figure of a tall, elderly gentleman, of upright carriage and aristocratic bearing, who was coming up the road at a rapid pace.

"It's Judge Moore," whispered Link; "he owns a fine place a couple of miles from here."

In another moment our hero found himself being presented to the judge, who overwhelmed him with praise.

"You must come and dine with us, you and your friends," said the judge; "there will only be myself and my daughter Alice. Nay, you must make no excuses. I shall call upon Captain Hooper and tell him all about it, and if ever you require a friend do not forget to come to me."

Mont would have respectfully declined the invitation, but a glance from Alice Moore prevented him from doing so.

He therefore thanked the judge for his kindness, and then the boys took their leave.

Our hero simply raised his cap, but Alice put out her hand.

"You will be certain to come?" she asked in a low tone.

"Certain," he replied.

The news of Mont's heroism spread through Nautical Hall, and he speedily found himself a decided hero.

V. HOKE UMMER'S TREACHERY

Our hero succeeded on the following Monday in getting a quantity of cake, pie, and other stuff from town and hiding them in an unoccupied bedroom.

He was also promised a dozen bottles of root beer and soda water, but these he was unable to smuggle into the school, owing to the watchfulness of Captain Hooper and his assistants.

Accordingly, he hid the stuff in the bushes near the lake, and decided to go after it late at night.

He unfolded his plan to Link, Barry, and Carl Barnaby, and this plan was overheard by Hoke Ummer.

Next to the empty bedroom was a window overlooking the side playground. From this window Mont decided to reach the ground by aid of a long rope.

This was the only way to get out, as after nine o'clock all the doors and windows below were locked in such a fashion they could not be opened.

That evening our hero, with a light heart, repaired to the empty bedroom.

Opening the boxful of stuff, he spread out upon a tablecloth of newspapers a prettily decorated ham, a couple of cold roast chickens, a fine apple pie, a quantity of mince pies, and a varied assortment of choice fruits and cake.

All these arranged to his satisfaction, he looked at his watch, and then sat down and waited.

It was just half-past eight, and in another half-hour servants and masters would all have retired for the night.

After what appeared to the watcher to be an age the great school clock tolled solemnly out the hour of nine.

Then Mont drew out a thick rope from beneath the bed and left the room.

Soon he was at the window.

Throwing up the lower sash, our hero fastened one end of the rope securely and threw the other out.

"Just the right length," he said, and then he swung himself over the window sill. "I'll soon have the rest of the stuff up."

The door of one of the spare bedrooms was opened, and Ummer stepped into the corridor.

As the light of the moon fell upon his face it looked strangely white and ghastly.

His lips were tightly compressed and his eyes had in them a horrible glare as he stepped stealthily but quickly to the window.

Arrived there, he crouched low down that he might not be seen by any person outside.

Then, with deft fingers, he untied the knot by which the rope was secured.

There was heard a loud, wild cry, followed by a dull, heavy thud.

Then all was still.

The bully crept away along the corridor and down the stairs, his heart beating as though it would burst its bounds.

A little before twelve o'clock that night several dark figures might have been seen stealing cautiously along the corridors.

All these figures made their way to one common spot.

This was the bedroom Mont had mentioned.

Arrived there, they found everything prepared for the feast, but no host.

"What a strange thing for Mont to do," said Carl Barnaby; "to invite us all here and not be present."

"It isn't very gentlemanly of him," submitted Barry.

"You talk like a fool," said Link. "Something must have happened to him."

"I saw him at supper, and he was all right then."

"Perhaps some of the tramps have waylaid him on the road," suggested another boy, who had been sitting very white and very quiet, in one corner of the room.

Everyone turned to the speaker.

"Mine cracious, dot's so," put in Sam Schump. "Besser we go an' see?"

Without delay a search was begun.

A rope was procured, and Link was the first person out of the window.

"Hullo!"

"What's up?" asked those above.

"Bring a light. Mont has fallen and hurt himself."

A light was quickly procured, and one after another the boys came down the rope.

Our hero lay at the foot of a large lilac bush.

It was this bush which had saved his life.

When the rope gave way, had he fallen on the ground he would most likely have been killed.

Link brought some water, and he was soon revived.

In the meantime, from another window, overhead, Hoke Ummer watched proceedings.

When he saw Mont get up his hateful face plainly showed his chagrin.

"How was it you didn't fasten the rope tightly?" asked Link.

"I thought I did," returned our hero. "In fact, I am certain I did," he added.

"But it gave way and let you down."

Our hero shook his head. He couldn't understand it at all.

In a few minutes he was able to go with his friends and show them where the root-beer and soda-water bottles were hidden.

Loaded down with the stuff, the crowd returned to the Hall, and the feast began.

Nearly all of the boys of Mont's age had been invited in a general way, and a lively time was had for fully an hour.

Hoke Ummer could not stand it to see his rival triumph over him, and so slipped down to the room occupied by Moses Sparks, one of the under teachers.

"Mont Folsom and his crowd are having a feast in one of the upper rooms," he said.

At once Moses Sparks prepared to investigate.

The feast was at its height when a footstep was heard.

"Scatter!" whispered Carl Barnaby, who caught the sounds first, and all of the boys hurried from the bedroom by side doors and managed to get to their own rooms.

When Moses Sparks came up they seemed to be sleeping like so many lambs.

"Ummer has been fooling me," muttered the under teacher. "Or else he was mistaken." And he went off and left the boys to finish the feast in peace.

VI. OUT ON THE BAY

In a general way Mont suspected Hoke Ummer, not of the dastardly trick he had played, but of playing the sneak and telling Moses Sparks.

"I'll get square," he said to Link and Carl.

Out in the fields he had picked up a dead snake, and he now resolved to make use of it in a truly original manner. As soon as it was time to retire that night Mont slipped upstairs and into the dormitory occupied by Hoke Ummer, Goul, and their chums.

He had the dead snake with him, and put the reptile in the bully's bed.

Five minutes later he was in his own room awaiting developments.

They were not long in coming.

A murmur of voices ended in a wild shriek of terror.

"A snake!" yelled Hoke. "It's in my bed! Save me! I'm a dead boy!"

His cry aroused everyone, and soon Nautical Hall was in a commotion.

"What's the matter with Hoke?"

"He's got 'em bad!"

"A snake!" roared the bully. "Take it away."

He ran out into the corridor, and soon a crowd began to collect.

In the meantime Mont slipped into the room and threw the dead reptile out of the window.

Captain Hooper tried to get at the bottom of the affair, but failed.

"You must have been dreaming, Ummer," he said at last, and sent all of the boys off to bed.

During the following week Nautical Hall was closed up, and the schoolboy cadets marched to the head of the bay.

Here they went into camp for a month, part of the time being spent on the bay and the ocean beyond in learning how to sail both large and small boats.

The sailing of the boats particularly interested Mont and Carl Barnaby. Link did not care very much for the water, for when the sea was rough he was inclined to grow seasick.

One day Mont and Carl obtained permission to hire a sloop at the town, and go out for an all-day cruise over the bay and back.

They took with them a young fellow from Nautical Hall named John Stumpton, a handy lad who generally went by the name of Stump. Since Mont had arrived at the Hall, Stump had taken to him greatly, and would do almost anything that Mont asked of him. Stump was also a great friend to Carl.

They sailed out of sight of the camp, and gradually crept up to a large excursion boat which was just leaving one of the docks of the town.

The steamboat was overcrowded, every deck being full of humanity bent on having a good time.

Some musicians were playing on the forward deck, and they drew quite close to hear what was going on.

Suddenly a cry of horror arose.

A young girl had been standing close to the rail on a camp chair at the bow of the boat.

It was Alice Moore.

As the steamboat swung around the girl lost her balance.

She tried to save herself, and, failing, pitched headlong into the water.

Our hero saw her go under the waves.

"She'll be struck by the paddle wheel," he yelled, and then, splash! he was overboard himself.

Bravely he struck out to save the maiden.

The order was given to back the steamboat.

The wheels churned up the water into a white foam, but still the momentum carried the large craft on.

In the meantime our hero came up and struck out valiantly for the girl, who was now going down for a second time.

"Save her! Save her!" shrieked Judge Moore, who was with his daughter.

Half a dozen life-preservers were thrown overboard, but none came to where the girl could reach them.

The judge wanted to join his daughter in the water.

Strong hands held him back.

"The young fellow will save her, judge."

"He's a true hero!"

Life-lines were thrown over, but even these did no good.

The steamboat swung around, but the run of the water washed the girl closer and closer to the paddle wheel.

She now came up a second time.

Should she sink again all would be over.

Mont was swimming with all the strength and skill at his command.

At last he was within a yard of the struggling girl.

The maiden threw up her hands and went under. As quick as a flash our hero dove down.

A second passed. Then up came our hero with the girl clinging to his shoulder.

But now the current was apparently too strong for both of them.

"Help us—quick!"

Carl and Stump heard the cry, and immediately put about in their sloop.

Mont was swimming along on his side.

The girl was too weak to support herself, and he was holding her up well out of the water.

It took the sloop but a moment to run up alongside of the pair.

Carl reached over and caught hold of the girl and placed her on deck.

In the meantime our hero caught hold of a rope thrown by the old boatman and pulled himself up.

A cheer arose from those on the excursion boat.

"She is safe now, sure!"

The girl was too exhausted to move, and Carl rubbed her hands and did what he could for her.

Stump ran up alongside of the steamboat, and a little later the girl was placed on board.

The judge clasped his child to his breast.

"Go ahead," said Mont in a low voice. "I don't want the crowd to stare at me."

"But the judge wants to thank you," began Carl; but our hero would not listen.

He was too modest, and made Stump actually run away from the excursion boat.

But five hundred people cheered Mont and waved their handkerchiefs.

And this was not the end of the matter.

The next day Judge Moore called at the camp, and insisted on presenting Mont with a gold watch and chain. With this gift came a sweet letter from Alice Moore which made our hero blush a good deal when he read it.

After this, nearly a week passed without special incident. Link was called home on account of the death of a relative, and Mont and Carl became closer chums than ever.

One day Hoke Ummer was caught abusing one of the small boys so greatly that the boy had to be placed under a doctor's care.

The boy's father had Hoke arrested. The case, however, never came to trial.

The consequence of the arrest was that the bully was dismissed from the school; and that was the last Mont saw of him.

"We are well rid of him," he said, and Carl and the others agreed with him.

One day Mont and Carl went out for an all-day cruise on the bay, taking John Stumpton with them.

When the two schoolboys started out with the hired lad they did not intend to remain away longer than sunset, and not one of them dreamed of the marvelous adventures in store for each ere he should be permitted to see his native land again.

The start was made in a fair breeze, and it looked so nice overhead that Mont proposed they take a short run directly into the ocean.

"All right—I'll go you," answered Carl slangily, and away they skimmed.

By noon they were almost out of sight of land, and while they were eating the repast Stump had prepared Carl proposed that they turn back.

This was hardly accomplished when it suddenly grew dark, and they found themselves caught in a squall.

"By gracious! I didn't bargain for this!" cried Carl. "If we don't take care, we'll go to the bottom!"

"Don't worry—yet," answered Mont. "I guess we'll get back all right."

Blacker and blacker grew the sky, until absolutely nothing could be seen. Every sail was closely reefed, and the boys strained their eyes to pierce the gloom which hung over them.

Suddenly Stump set up a yell.

"Look out; there is a ship!"

He got no further. A large form loomed up in the darkness. There was one grinding, smashing crash, and then came a shock that split the light-built sloop from stem to stern.

All of the boys were hurled into the boiling sea. But none was hurt; and, coming to the surface, all struggled to cling to the wreckage floating about, meanwhile crying loudly for help.

When they were picked up they were thoroughly exhausted, and Carl lost his senses completely.

The ship that had run them down was the Golden Cross. The captain's name was Savage, and he was bound for the Bermudas.

He refused to stop anywhere to put the boys off, saying he had not the time to do so.

In reality he was afraid he would be brought to account for wrecking the sloop.

He would not believe that Mont and Carl were rich, and that their parents would willingly pay him for any trouble he might take on their behalf.

"I'll keep 'em on board and make 'em work their passage," he said to his mate, a mean chap by the name of Slog. "We are rather short of hands."

A night's rest did wonders for the boys.

By morning the storm cleared off, and the Golden Cross proceeded swiftly on her way, favored by a good breeze.

Mont found himself in the ill-smelling forecastle. He was awfully hungry, and the first thing he did was to make his way to the cook's galley. The cook smiled as Mont appeared. "Got around, eh?" he said. "Good for you. I thought you would be sick for the rest of the trip after such an adventure."

"I am pretty tough," answered Mont.

"You look a bit like a sailor."

"Oh, I know a thing or two about the water," replied Mont modestly. "But tell me," he went on, "what sort of a captain have you?"

"Oh, he's a caution, and so is Slog, the first mate," laughed the cook. "The captain is the toughest man this line of ships ever had."

"Humph! That's not encouraging," mused our hero. "Why do the owners keep him?"

"Because he's clever. He may be out in all weather, but he's never lost a ship."

"This seems like an old tub," observed Mont, looking around him.

"Yes, she isn't worth much. She pitches and tosses in a gale awful. It's the oldest ship the firm's got."

"Is it insured?"

"Yes. I know the insurance is very heavy, and it wouldn't be a bad job for the owners if she went down," replied the cook.

"Bad job for us, though," remarked Mont. "I don't want to be drowned."

"Have you had any breakfast?" asked the cook good-naturedly.

"Not a bit."

"I don't expect the regular hands will give you a chance of getting much. There's Sam Holly and Jerry Dabble. One's a bully and the other's a sneak."

"I haven't seen them yet."

"Fight shy of both of them. They're no good. They'll make you and your chums do all the work, now you've come on board."

"I'll bet a dollar they won't get a stroke of work out of me," returned Mont decidedly.

"You will?"

"Yes."

"Well, you're a plucky lad," exclaimed the cook admiringly, "and from your size and looks I should think you could box."

"Just a little bit," answered Mont smilingly.

"The captain favors Jerry Dabble, and listens to all he says. He's a regular sneak. You look out for him."

"I will."

"Will you have a bit of breakfast along with me? I can give you a nice bit I've cut off the skipper's ham and a couple of eggs."

"I'm with you," said Mont readily, "and I'll return your kindness on the first opportunity."

In a moment our hero was supplied with a good breakfast, which was washed down with a cup of coffee.

The sea was rather high, although the wind had gone down.

It was not difficult to perceive, when Mont came to examine her, that the ship was a very old one and had seen her best days.

Mont thought a trip to the Bermudas would be very nice, but at the same time he did not mean to be the captain's slave, or the first mate's either.

He had not shipped with them, and they could not legally make him work, though he did not mind lending a hand if he was asked in a friendly manner.

His mother would pay for his passage if she was asked.

The officers evidently took him, Carl, and Stump to be three sons of fishermen, and had made up their minds to treat them accordingly.

When he left the galley, Mont went to where the regular hands slept and messed, and where he and his companions had slept.

There was a great outcry as he came in.

"Leave off, I say," Carl was exclaiming; "I won't have it. Two of you onto me at once isn't fair."

In a moment Mont was there. He found the two young men, Sam Holly and Jerry Dabble, standing over his chum with two ropes' ends, with which they were hitting him.

"What are you licking him for?" asked Mont, his eyes flashing.

"Because he won't get the breakfast," said Holly.

"He's not your servant—why should he?"

"He'll have to do it, or you will," said Sam the bully, setting his arms akimbo and staring impudently at Mont.

"My good fellow," said the latter, "don't you make any error. Neither my friend nor myself means to do anything on board this ship unless we're asked civilly."

Jerry Dabble laughed. "You're a fool to talk that way!" he roared.

Mont immediately gave him a cuff on the ears which sent him rolling over a bunk.

VII. A LIVELY ENCOUNTER

The two sailors were astonished beyond measure at Mont's quick action.

"Good for you, Mont!" cried Carl Barnaby, while Stump grinned with intense delight.

"I'll go and tell the captain," growled Jerry, as he got up slowly.

Sam Holly, who was a thick-set, heavy-looking fellow, turned to Mont. "I have had enough of this nonsense. Do you mean to do your work or not?"

"Certainly not; do it yourself."

"Do you want a good hiding?"

"You can't give it to me."

"I can try, can't I?" said Holly.

"So can any other fool; but it doesn't follow he will do it."

"Look here, I've been two voyages before this. You're a green hand compared to me, and I'm boss here. We are short-handed. Do the work, and I'll make things easy for you; if not, it will be worse for you."

"I'll chance that," said Mont.

"Do you mean to risk a sound thrashing?"

"Oh, yes, I'm game for a rough-and-tumble. It's sure to come sooner or later, and we may as well get it over at once."

"Mind your eye, then," yelled Holly.

His ugly face glowed with passion, and his great, stupid-looking ears seemed to stick out like cabbage leaves.

"Come on," he said.

"I'm ready," returned Mont.

The fight commenced in the little cabin, and it was evident that the combatants were in earnest.

Our hero found his opponent as strong as a young bull, but he had not very much skill.

Parrying his blows and hitting hard when he had a good chance, Mont punished him severely.

But he was knocked down first.

"Will that do for you," said Holly, "or do you want any more?"

"More, please," exclaimed Mont, getting up. And then he clipped Holly two heavy ones that knocked him nearly down a ladder.

Holly foamed with rage. "Come on!" he exclaimed, in a husky voice.

The fight continued for ten minutes, with varying success. At last Mont saw a good chance, and, pretending to strike Holly's face, he dropped his hand and hit him in the stomach.

As the bully fell back, gasping for breath, Mont exclaimed:

"How do you like it now, you bully? Do you want any more?"

"Not this voyage," rejoined Holly dismally; "you're best man."

"It's a pity you didn't find that out before," remarked Mont. "However, it's never too late to learn. Perhaps you will get our breakfast ready. I'm master now. Do you understand that, Mr. Bully?"

"Don't crow. I'm licked this time, but my turn may come. Sit down and have your grub."

Mont was quite satisfied with his victory.

He shook hands with Holly, and they all sat down together, making a comfortable breakfast, though the fare was not luxurious.

Carl and our hero went on deck afterward, and, hearing an altercation forward, ran in that direction.

Captain Savage was beating a sailor with a marlinspike for some breach of discipline.

The crew looked on without interfering.

The sailor was a fine, handsome fellow, and in vain begged the tyrant to desist. The poor fellow's face was streaming with blood, and Mont's anger arose instantly.

Rushing forward, he seized the captain's arm, and exclaimed:

"Stop that—I won't have it!"

The next moment he was alarmed at his rashness.

Turning upon him with incredible fury, the captain exclaimed:

"How dare you speak to me, youngster! I'll break every bone in your body!"

At a sign from the first mate, on whose face sat a smile of malicious satisfaction, four men fell upon Mont, whose arms were pinioned, and he was thrown on his back, where he lay perfectly helpless.

"Take him away," continued Captain Savage. "I will deal with him presently. It's a pity I took the young whelp on board; he should have drowned if I'd have known what he was made of."

Strong arms lifted Mont up, and he was forced into a dark hole, near the cook's galley, where he was half stifled with the heat and smell of tar.

Mont felt he was now in for it, and no mistake.

VIII. MONT IS PUNISHED

"Hang the luck, anyway!"

In a miserable state of mind, but still very angry, Mont sat down in his gloomy prison, and wondered what would happen next.

An hour later the captain called up the first mate.

"Let the prisoner be brought forward, and call the hands to witness punishment; muster them all. I mean to make an example."

The mate summoned the crew, all of whom trooped forward with a sullen and discontented air.

The first mate went to Mont, and personally conducted him on deck.

"Now, my lad," said the captain, with a brutal air, "I'm going to let you know what discipline is. Strip!"

Looking around him defiantly, Mont did not move.

"Do you hear me?" thundered the captain. "Strip!"

"Captain Savage," said Mont quietly, "I protest against this treatment. You saved my life and the lives of my companions, for which I thank you. We would leave your ship at once if we could. As it is, we are unwilling passengers."

"You are a part of the crew, and must work out your passage."

"Not at all. We have not signed articles, and you have no power over us so long as we conduct ourselves properly."

"Why did you interfere between me and one of my crew? But I'll waste no words with you," replied the captain. "Tie him to the foremast."

He caught up the rope's end and hit Mont a single blow.

He was about to go on, when the sailors advanced in a body, and formed a line between him and Mont.

"Back, you scoundrels! Back, mutinous dogs!" exclaimed the captain in a greater rage than ever.

The solid line remained immovable, and Mont was set free.

Both mates put themselves by the captain's side, as they feared a crisis was approaching, and they determined to side with the skipper.

"Look'ee here, cappen," said an old, grizzled sailor. "I've shipped aboard o' many vessels, and I've seen a few skippers, but never the likes o' you. We don't want to do you no harm, but we aint a-goin' to stan' by and see that poor lad flogged half to death because he interfered for one o' us."

"I'll have you all tried at the first port I come to!" exclaimed the captain.

Slog, the mate, caught the captain's arm.

"For Heaven's sake, go below, and leave them to me!" he said.

"Not I. Where are my pistols? I'll shoot some of the dogs."

"Be guided by me, sir. Let them alone this time, and tackle them one by one. If you don't, they'll do something desperate."

The captain mumbled something which was inaudible. He was almost speechless with rage.

Suddenly the voice of the lookout man rang out clearly:

"A strange sail."

"Where away?" asked the captain.

"On the larboard bow, sir."

The captain took his telescope, and began to examine the strange sail.

Everyone crowded to the side to have a look, and every eye was soon searching the horizon.

Even Mont shared the excitement.

He had a pocket glass, and brought it into use.

"Perhaps we'll be taken off," he said to Carl.

"I sincerely hope so," replied his chum. "I've had enough of this ship."

IX. DOCTOR HOMER WODDLE

It was soon discovered that the sail was nothing more or less than a man clinging to a chicken coop, who had taken off his shirt and hoisted it on high to attract attention.

When he was neared, a boat was lowered, and the unfortunate man picked up and brought on board.

He was a little, wiry man, about forty-five years of age, with sharp, intelligent face, and an expression of anything but good temper.

"Which is the captain of this vessel?" he asked on coming aboard.

"I am," replied Captain Savage.

"You've been a long time picking me up. What do you mean by it?" said the little man.

"That's a cool remark," said the captain, "considering we have, in all probability, saved your life."

"And if you have, you only did your duty. Where is your cabin? Give me some fresh clothes immediately, and something to eat and drink."

"You've got a nerve," said the captain, inclined to be angry. "I've a good mind never to save anyone again."

"That will not matter much to me. You are not likely to save me twice."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Homer Woddle, sir."

"You speak loud enough," replied the captain.

"Bah! it's evident you are not a man of science, or you would have heard of me. I have written books, sir—books!"

"What then?"

"I am a famous man. My position in life is that of Secretary to the Society for the Exploration of the Unknown Parts of the World, sir, and I am making my third voyage."

"How were you wrecked?"

"That is the strangest thing. But give me to eat and drink, clothe me, and you shall hear."

"Speak first, and then I'll think of it, Mr. Woddle," said the captain.

The conversation was audible enough to be heard by all on board, who crowded round the speakers in a way that showed how severely discipline on board the ship had been interfered with by the late occurrence.

"Well, well, well," cried the little man, irritably, "what a boy you are! I left Boston last week on board the Comet. Well, sir, that ship was fitted up at a great expense in order that we might make discoveries. Do you see?"

"Not clearly as yet," answered the captain.

"Tush, be quiet," exclaimed the irritable little man; "don't interrupt me. This morning about eight o'clock we were struck amidships, but below the water line, by a wonderful sea monster, which nearly cut us in two."

"Did the ship sink?"

"She did almost directly afterward. I seized a chicken coop, and here I am."

"A monster cut you in two!" exclaimed the captain, opening his eyes. "What sort of a monster? Did you see it?"

"We did for a few minutes. It was black and long, like a gigantic eel, and threw out phosphorescent light."

"Then there was something electric about it?" remarked the first mate.

"Undoubtedly."

"That's a strange yarn," observed the captain.

He took Dr. Homer Woddle, the Secretary of the Society for the Exploration of the Unknown Parts of the World, into his cabin, gave him dry clothes, and provided him with the best dinner the resources of the ship could afford.

Mont had listened curiously to the conversation between Captain Savage and the newcomer.

Taking Carl's arm, he said:

"That's a wonderful yarn of that fellow who has just come on board."

"Very."

"I don't know what to make of it, exactly. A fish is a fish, and unless it has a big horn, it can't sink a ship."

"Perhaps he's cracked."

"Not he. I have heard of him. There is something in it. The man is sane enough. He has been wrecked, and he has told his story plainly enough, only I don't believe in the strange animal."

"What is it, then?"

"That's the mystery. There can't be any rocks in the middle of the sea. It isn't a rock."

"Then it must be a wonderful fish."

A couple of hours passed when Dr. Woddle came on deck, arm in arm with Captain Savage.

After a time the scientist left the captain, and met Mont.

"Nice weather, my lad," he exclaimed.

"Who are you calling 'my lad'?" asked Mont.

"You're one of the crew, I suppose, and you needn't be so snappish."

"I'm a passenger," replied Mont, "and my name is Mont Folsom. Sorry I haven't got a card, but I was wrecked yesterday, and that will account for it. I and my companions come from Nautical Hall."

"Indeed! I presume you were picked up as I was? Did you meet with the singular animal that destroyed my ship?"

"Can't say I did. What was he like?"

"A huge, long thing, covered with scales, half in, half out of the water."

"Are we likely to meet with him again?"

"I should think so," answered the scientist. "Look there!"

"Where?" exclaimed Mont.

"To the right. I don't understand those confounded sea terms, and I don't know larboard from starboard, but on my right is the creature."

"The dreaded animal?" asked Mont, with a laugh.

"Yes. Look!"

Our hero followed the direction of the outstretched arm, and beheld a curious sight.

Not far from the ship was a long, black-looking thing, lying like a great round log on the water.

It was the submarine monster.

X. THE SUBMARINE TERROR

Captain Savage at once came to the rail, and was soon busily engaged in looking at the wonderful creature which Homer Woddle declared had sunk the ship in which he had been sailing.

The crew were much agitated, for seamen are at all times superstitious, and, never having heard of such a strange monster, they fancied its appearance boded no good.

The monster, which had been perfectly inert up to this time, threw out a marvelous light, which illuminated the depths of the sea.

The magnificent irradiation was evidently the result of electricity, and it revealed the shape of the strange fish, if fish it was, very distinctly.

Its form was what we may call a lengthened oval, tapering off at the head and tail, which were under the water, only part of the scaly back being exposed to the air.

Dr. Woddle called the captain.

"Sir," he said, "the monster is again close to us. I ask you, in the interest of science, to capture it."

"Who's going to do it, and how is it to be done?" said Captain Savage.

"This thing is a scourge of the ocean. It destroys ships, therefore it is your duty to destroy it," persisted the man of science.

"We will harpoon it, if you like, though I do not know why I should risk the lives of my crew. Where's Bowline? Pass the word for Bowline," said the captain.

When Bill Bowline made his appearance he was trembling like a leaf.

"Get your harpoon, my man," said the captain.

"Not me, sir," said the sailor firmly. "I wouldn't harm a scale of the critter's back, were it ever so near. We shall all be sent to the bottom of the sea if I do."

Turning to Homer Woddle, the captain said:

"You see the feeling of my men; what can I do?"

"I'll do it myself," said the man of science grandly. "If no one will attack this monster, the honor and the glory of the task shall belong to me. Give me a boat and loaded guns. It will be hard, indeed, if I cannot put a bullet in him, and lay the mighty brute low. Who will volunteer for this splendid task?"

There was no response.

"What! Are you all cowards? Will no one volunteer?" continued the man of science scornfully.

Mont stepped forward.

"I'm with you, sir!" he exclaimed. "Can't stand by and see a gentleman left alone. I'm not afraid of the creature."

Carl, as a matter of course, took his place by our hero's side, and so did Stump.

Where Mont went his devoted friend and equally attached follower felt bound to go as a matter of duty.

"Three of you. Bravo!" cried the scientist. "Now, we are four, and we shall triumph. Lower a boat, if you please."

The order was given to put the ship about, and a spot favorable for the enterprise being selected near the monster, a boat was lowered, into which the volunteers descended.

Carl and Stump took the oars, Mont grasped the tiller, and Dr. Woddle stood in the bows with a loaded gun under each arm.

"My four troublesome customers," said the captain, in a low tone to the first mate, "stand a very good chance of never returning."

"It will be a cheap way to get rid of them, although it may cost us the boat," said the mate in the same tone.

"Steady, my lads," said the scientist. "Easy all; keep the head before the wind, Mr. Folsom, if you please."

"Steady she is," answered Mont.

The boat stopped at a short distance from the monster, and Homer Woddle stood up, placed a gun to his shoulder, and fired.

The ball struck the huge slumbering beast, but glided off its back as if it had struck a piece of polished steel.

"Hard as the hide of a rhinoceros," said the man of science; "we must try again. Steady, boys."

The monster, however, did not seem to approve of being shot at, and seemed to tremble violently for a moment.

Then with incredible velocity it darted past the rowboat, which was upset in a moment, and proceeded to strike the ship.

It struck the unfortunate vessel a terrific blow directly back of the bow.

The crash was distinctly audible, and amid the noise of falling masts and flapping sails were heard the cries of the sailors and the moans of the dying.

After the concussion the monster retired as it had come.

A cloud obscured the surface of the ocean, and it was difficult to tell where it had gone, or what had become of the ship.

Mont found himself struggling in the sea, and wondered what had become of his companions.

"Hang those monsters of the deep," he said to himself; "I don't like them."

Swimming gently, he got hold of one of the oars of the boat, and so kept himself afloat without much exertion.

It was not a hopeful position to be in.

Struggling alone in the middle of a vast ocean, ignorant of the fate of his companions, and doubtful of succor, it was not to be wondered at if he felt inclined to despair.

Would he sink or swim? The question was, just then, a hard one to answer.

XI. ON THE BACK OF THE MONSTER

Mont was alone on the ocean with nothing but water in sight.

Yet his heart did not fail him.

"Well," he said aloud, "I like adventures, and now I have met with a beautiful one. Perhaps I shall be picked up. Perhaps not."

Five minutes passed. To our hero they seemed an age.

"Hullo! Hi! What cheer? Ship ahoy!" he cried.

He had scarcely closed his lips, after this appeal for help, when he felt his arm seized vigorously.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"If you will lean upon my shoulder," was the reply, "you will soon gain strength and swim better."

"Is it you, Stump?" said Mont, recognizing the voice of his faithful friend.

"At your service, Master Mont. I have been swimming about everywhere looking for you ever since that submarine beast swamped us. Ugh! What a terrible brute it is! It laughs at bullets, and cares no more for sinking a ship than I should for kicking over a stool."

"Is no one saved?"

"I can't tell any more than you; all I thought of was to swim after you."

The situation was as terrible a one as can well be imagined.

Those on board the vessel were in too much trouble, if they were yet living, to think of the perils of the others who had courted destruction by going in the boat to attack the monster.

Nor would Captain Savage feel very friendly disposed toward them, because it was Dr. Woddle's shot that caused the slumbering creature to rush madly upon the vessel.

Mont began to calculate the chances of safety. If the ship had not foundered the crew might lower another boat in the morning to search for them. The sun would not rise for about eight hours. Could they exist so long in the water without fainting or becoming cramped by the sluggish circulation of the blood?

In vain he tried to pierce the dense darkness which surrounded them, for now the moon had disappeared, and bad weather seemed imminent again.

About two o'clock in the morning our hero was seized with extreme fatigue; his limbs were a prey to an agonizing cramp.

Stump put his arm around him, but he drew his breath with difficulty, and evidently required all his strength for himself.

"Let me go, boy," said Mont; "save yourself."

"Certainly not," said Stump quickly. "We're not going down just yet."

At that moment the moon appeared again from under the edge of a thick cloud which had concealed it for a time, and the surface of the sea sparkled under its rays.

This fortunate light put new strength into the boys, and Mont searched the horizon with eager, careful gaze.

He saw the ship, or what appeared to be her, about two miles off, looking like a somber, inert mass, but there was no sign of a boat.

At first he was inclined to cry for help, but of what use would it have been at that distance?

"Here, this way! Hi! help, help!" shouted Stump.

Was it one of those delusive sounds which the anxious mind sometimes conjures up, or did an answer really come to the lad's cry for help?

"Did you hear anything?" asked Mont.

"Yes, I thought so," said Stump, and he began to cry out again.

"Help, help!"

This time there was no mistake. A human voice clearly responded through the darkness.

Stump lifted himself as high out of the water as he could, and taking a look, fell back exhausted, clinging desperately to the oar.

"Did you see anything?" asked Mont anxiously.

"Yes; don't talk, sir; we want all our strength."

There was a hopeful ring in his voice which inspired Mont, who, however, fancied he heard the boy sigh almost directly afterward.

He thought of the monster. Was it still near them? But, if so, whence came the voice?

They began to swim with all the strength they had left, and after some minutes of continued exertion, for moving was a painful task in their state, Stump spoke again.

"Are you far off?" he said.

"Not far—push on," replied the voice, which Mont fancied he knew.

Suddenly an outstretched hand seized him; he was pulled violently out of the water, just as his senses were going, and, after someone had rubbed his hands vigorously, he opened his eyes and murmured:

"Stump."

"Here, sir," replied the lad.

By the rays of the moon our hero saw a figure which was not that of Stump, but which he recognized easily.

"Dr. Woddle?" he said.

"Right, my lad," answered the man of science.

"Where is Carl?"

"Here," answered our hero's chum. "The doctor and I stuck together, and our only concern has been for you."

"Where are we?" asked Mont puzzled; "this thing I am sitting on seems firm enough."

"It's a floating island," answered Woddle.

A horrible thought crossed Mont's mind to which he could not give expression.

"To put you out of your misery at once," continued Dr. Woddle, "we are on the back of the gigantic creature at whom I shot, and I know now why I did not kill him."

"Why?"

"Because he is ironclad, or something very like it. I can make no impression upon the scaly monster with my knife."

These words produced a strange feeling in Mont's mind. He found that he was really with his friends on the back of the monster, which continued to float on the surface, after causing the partial destruction of the ship.

He got up and stamped his foot. It was certainly a hard, impenetrable body, and not the soft substance of which all the marine inhabitants that he had heard of were made, such as whales, sharks, walruses, and the like. If anything, it more resembled a tortoise or an alligator. A hollow sound was emitted when it was struck, and it appeared to be made of cast-iron plates secured together.

"What is your opinion of the creature, sir?" asked Mont.

"You want my candid opinion as a man of science?" said the doctor.

"Certainly, sir."

"I should say, then, that this peculiarly constructed monster is the result of human hands and ingenuity."

"In that case, it is not a monster at all."

"By no means; I am very much in the dark at present, but I am positive that there is some wonderful mystery about this thing, which to my mind is a sort of submarine ship, ingeniously constructed to sail under the water for a time, and to come to the surface for a supply of fresh air from time to time. In short; an electric submarine boat."

XII. INSIDE OF THE "SEARCHER"

All three of the boys were greatly astonished.

"It beats the Dutch!" cried Carl.

"If that is so," said Mont, "there must be some internal mechanism to make it work about."

"Evidently."

"It gives no sign of life."

"Not at present," answered the man of science. "But we have seen it move. It has appeared and disappeared. Consequently, it must have hidden machinery."

"Of course."

"So that we come to the conclusion, which is inevitable, that there must be a man or men inside to direct the ship."

"Hurrah!" cried our hero; "I didn't think of that. We are saved if that is so, and it must be as you say."

"Hum!" muttered the professor; "I don't know so much about that. If, when it makes a start, it glides along the surface of the water, we are all right; but if it goes down, we are lost."

"I've got an idea," said Mont, after a pause. "We must knock at the door, and see if we can find anyone at home."

His companions laughed.

"I have searched carefully," said Carl, "but I can't find even a manhole."

There was nothing to do but to wait until morning.

Mont wanted to keep his feet warm, so he amused himself by kicking his heels upon the body beneath him.

"I'll wake 'em up," he said. "They shan't sleep if they won't let me in."

Their safety depended absolutely upon the caprice of the mysterious steersman who inhabited the ironclad, fish-shaped machine.

It seemed to the professor that before those inside descended again they would have to open some hole to obtain air.

All were now very tired, wet, and hungry, and soon a raging thirst began to attack them.

Our hero fancied he heard vague sounds beneath him, but could not be sure.

Who were the strange beings that lived in the floating iron shell?

Kicking angrily upon the iron surface, Mont said:

"You are very inhospitable inside. I am hungry and thirsty. Do you want me to die up here?"

He had no sooner spoken than a flap beside him opened and a railing came up as if by magic.

Half the body of a strong, wiry, thick-bearded man appeared. He held a curious wire net.

The net fell over Mont's head, and he felt himself dragged over the railing and down into the interior of the iron shell.

A cry of terror broke from his companions, answered by a smothered yell from Mont, as the flap fell back and shut out any further view of the interior.

Our hero had vanished.

This removal, so brutally executed, was accomplished with the rapidity of lightning.

Dr. Woddle felt his hair stand on end, and as for Carl and Stump they were chilled to the marrow of their bones with fear.

"What have they done with him?" Carl asked.

"Your friend is the first victim," replied the professor. "Perhaps they mean to eat him. For my part, they may eat me as soon as they like; anything is preferable to this."

"I wish I could get at them," replied Stump. "I'd soon have Master Mont out."

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the trap door opened again, and the servant was dragged down below in a similar manner.

"Really this is very extraordinary," said the professor; "two of us are gone. We are no doubt in the hands of pirates, wretched rovers of the sea, who have brought science to their aid. It is to be hoped——"

The door opened while he was speaking and a long arm twining round his waist dragged him too into the heart of this floating prison.

His legs kicking up ludicrously in the air attracted the attention of Carl, who could not refrain from laughing, miserable though he was.

"My turn next," muttered the youth.

He was not long kept in suspense.

The long net twined, snakelike, round him, and he too descended into the bowels of the infernal machine.

Mont's experience was that of all of them.

He had descended an iron ladder and was pushed into a room, the door of which shut to with a heavy bang.

In ten minutes they were all together in the same compartment.

The darkness of their prison was so intense as to prevent our hero seeing his hand before his face.

Thus it was impossible to guess where they were, or even to tell if they were alone or not.

"This is an outrage," said the doctor. "I protest against it. Is the author of a dozen immortal works to be treated like a naughty schoolboy?"

"We're prisoners," remarked Mont, "and it's no use hallooing. They're not going to eat us. This isn't an oven, and I think we are better here than up above."

"At least we had our liberty," continued the doctor, who was never satisfied or happy unless he was at work or grumbling.

"I've got a knife," said Stump boldly, "and I'll stick the first that comes near me. It's a regular pig-sticker, my knife, and I'll bet they feel it."

"Don't you do anything of the sort!" cried Mont. "You might get us all killed."

"It's very hard if a poor boy can't do something."

"You'll get it hot if anyone is listening to you. If you don't care for yourself, think of us."

Stump grumbled inaudibly, and Mont began to take the dimensions of the prison in which they were.

This he did by walking about, and he made it twenty feet long by ten wide. The walls were of iron, made of plates riveted together.

Half an hour passed. At the expiration of that time, the cabin was illuminated by a flood of light so vivid and blinding that it was difficult to bear the intensity.

Mont recognized the electric light that had floated round the ship when he first saw it.

When he got used to its clear whiteness, he looked up and saw that it proceeded from a globe which hung from the ceiling.

"Light at last; our captors are becoming more civil," said the doctor, rubbing his hands gayly.

"It's about time, I think," answered our hero.

They were not much better off, however, for the cabin only contained a table and five wooden stools, but the light was refreshing and made them more cheerful.

Not a sound reached their ears; everywhere reigned the silence of the grave.

Perhaps the ship had sunk to the bottom of the ocean, for it seemed to have the power of going where its strange owner wished.

In a short time the door opened and two men appeared.

"Visitors at last!" murmured Mont to himself.

XIII. THE OWNER OF THE SUBMARINE MONSTER

Of the two who had entered one was a negro, with intelligent but flat face, and short, woolly hair.

The other was a tall, handsome white man, with keen, searching eyes that looked into the very soul.

He wore a thick mustache, whiskers, and beard, and appeared to be an American.

He regarded the prisoners with a fixed gaze and said something to the negro in an unknown language, which was so sweet and soft that it seemed to be all vowels and no consonants.

At length he fixed his eyes upon the doctor, who, as the eldest of the party, seemed to be the leader of it. The professor made a low bow.

"I presume," he said, "that I am in the presence of the proprietor of this singular machine, and as I am a man of science I respect one who could conceive and carry out the idea of a submarine ship."

There was no answer.

"Permit me to tell you our history," continued the professor.

Still no reply.

"He's remarkably polite," remarked Mont. "Perhaps he don't understand our language."

"Leave him to me," said the professor; "my name may have an effect upon him. I am Dr. Homer Woddle, Professor of Natural History, and Secretary to the Society for the Exploration of the Unknown Parts of the World. I have written valuable books, sir, which have been translated into foreign languages."

The professor paused to look proudly around him.

Nothing in the face of the man before them indicated that he understood one word.

Undaunted by this silence, the doctor continued:

"This, sir, is my friend Mr. Mont Folsom, this my friend Mr. Carl Barnaby. The lad is their servant."

There was still no answer, and then the professor grew cross.

He spoke in French, then in German, finally in Greek and Latin; but with the same disheartening effect.

Not a muscle of the stranger's face moved.

Turning to the right, he muttered some words in his incomprehensible language, and, without making any reassuring sign to the prisoners, turned on his heel and walked away, the door closing after him.

"Well, I'm blowed!" said Mont. "This is a queer go, and no mistake."

"I know one thing," said Carl; "that is, I am dying with hunger."

"If they would only give me a saucepan and some fire," said Stump, "I'd make some soup."

"How?"

"I've got my boots, and the Unknown who came in let his sealskin cap fall. I picked it up and sneaked it. The two together wouldn't make bad soup."

While he spoke the door opened again, and another negro entered with a tray upon which were four plates.

A savory smell issued from them. Knives and forks were provided, and having placed the plates on the table the negro raised the covers.

"Food!" said Mont; "that's good."

"Not up to much, Master Mont, I'll bet," observed Stump.

"What do you know about it?"

"What can they give us? Porpoise stew, fillets of dogfish, or stewed shark. I'd rather have some salt junk on board the ship."

The negro disappeared with the covers, and all but Stump sat down.

"Fire away, Stump," said Mont, looking at the dishes.

"After you; I can wait," replied the boy-of-all-work.

"Sit down, I tell you. When people are shipwrecked they are all equal. Pitch in," answered Mont.

Stump sat down. There was no bread, tea, or coffee, but a bottle of water supplied its place.

It was difficult to say what the dinner consisted of. It was a mixture of fish and vegetable matter, but not an atom of meat.

For some time no one spoke. The business of eating was all-absorbing, for one must eat, especially after a shipwreck.

It was consoling to reflect they were not destined to die of hunger.

"I think," exclaimed Stump, when he had finished his plate, "that they mean to fatten us before they kill us!"

"Hold your tongue till you are spoken to," said Mont.

"Yes, sir. I know I'm only an odd boy, but——"

"Shut up, I tell you. I want to go to sleep."

"Certainly, sir. Sorry I took the liberty, but if I don't talk to somebody I must talk to myself."

"Try it on, that's all, and if you wake me when I'm asleep, I'll give you something for yourself. I'm just getting dry, and shall sleep like a top," answered our hero, throwing himself in a corner.

The professor, who was worn out, had already chosen his corner.

Carl followed his example, and soon all slept.

XIV. THE ATTACK

How long he slept Mont did not know.

He woke first, and saw his companions snoring like those who are over-tired.

Nothing was changed in the apartment, except that the remains of the dinner had been removed.

It was with difficulty that he managed to breathe, and he guessed that he had consumed all the oxygen in his prison. His lungs were oppressed, and the heavy air was not sufficient for proper respiration.

While Mont was arranging his toilet a valve opened in the side of the room, and a fresh current of sea air swept into the cabin.

Evidently the vessel had ascended to the surface of the ocean and taken in a fresh supply of air.

The others, influenced by this invigorating atmosphere, woke up, and rubbing their eyes started to their feet.

Stump looked at Mont and asked if he had slept well.

"Pretty well. How are you, Mr. Professor?"

"I breathe the sea air, and I am content," answered Dr. Woddle. "How long have we slept? It must be four-and-twenty hours, at least, for I am hungry again; I cannot tell to a certainty, for my watch has stopped."

"There is one comfort," replied Mont, "we are not in the hands of cannibals, and we shall be well treated."

"I don't know about that," said Stump. "They've got no fresh meat on board; all they gave us yesterday was fishy stuff; and four fine, fat, healthy fellows——"

"Shut up, Stump," cried Mont; "how often am I to tell you to hold your tongue?"

"I know I'm only an odd boy, but——"

"Will you be quiet?" exclaimed our hero, taking up a stool threateningly.

"All right; I won't say anything more."

The doctor was very silent and thoughtful. Mont remarked this, and said:

"How long do you think they will keep us here?"

"I can't tell any more than you, Folsom," replied the professor.

"But what is your opinion?"

"Not a very encouraging one. We have by chance become possessed of an important secret. If the secret is worth more than our lives, we shall either be killed or kept prisoners."

"Forever?"

"Yes, forever," answered the professor gravely. "If the secret is not very serious, we may be landed on some island. I advise that we remain perfectly quiet and take things as they come."

"May I say a word?" exclaimed Stump.

"Well?" asked Mont.

"I'll get out of this."

"How? It is difficult to break out of a prison on earth, but to get out of one under the sea is impossible."

"Suppose we kill our jailers and take the key? If four Americans aren't a match for a lot of niggers, and one Unknown who can't speak any language, and doesn't belong to any country at all, it's time we shut up shop!" went on Stump.

At that moment the door opened, and the negro who had before appeared entered.

Stump instantly threw himself upon him, and, seizing his throat with his two hands, held him so tightly as almost to strangle him.

But being a powerful man, he soon disengaged himself, and a fearful struggle ensued between them.

"Help, help!" cried the negro, in excellent English.

Stump let go his hold at this, and fell back laughing.

"So you can talk English!" he cried; "that's all right. I only flew at you to see what countryman you were. Now, then, tell us all about this ship, or I'll give you another dose."

Putting his finger to his lips, the negro gave a peculiar whistle—prolonged and shrill.

This was evidently a signal, for he had scarcely finished when the Unknown appeared on the threshold.

He was followed by six powerful negroes, all armed to the teeth.

It looked as if Mont and his friends were to be executed on the spot.

XV. PRISONERS

For several minutes the master of the submarine monster gazed in silence at those in the iron-bound cabin.

Stump stood shivering in a corner.

"Please don't kill us!" he cried. "I—I—didn't mean any harm."

The strange owner of the still stranger craft looked at Stump for a moment, and then smiled faintly.

"Depart!" he cried to the negroes, and on the instant every one of the heavily armed men vanished.

Sitting down on the edge of the table, with his arms crossed on his powerful chest, this strange being seemed plunged in deep thought.

Our heroes regarded him with expectation, not unmixed with awe, for they were entirely in his power.

Was he about to punish them for the indiscretion of one of their number?

At length he spoke in English.

"Gentlemen," he said, "you see I can speak your language. I did not answer you at first, because I was undecided what to do with you. I am well acquainted with the scientific works written by Dr. Woddle, and I esteem it an honor to have made his acquaintance."

The professor bowed his acknowledgment of this compliment.

"I am also glad to see two intelligent young gentlemen like Mr. Folsom and Mr. Barnaby."

"You've forgotten me, sir," said Stump. "I'm only an odd boy, but——"

The captain extended his arm, and the hired boy was silent.

"I'm a man," he continued, "who has broken with society and renounced the world. Had you not molested me and fired at my vessel, I should not have crippled your ship and upset your boat. The attack came from your side."

"But, sir," answered the professor, "we took your ship to be some unknown creature."

"Possibly, but this creature had done you no harm. I saw you all take refuge outside, and I hesitated a long while what to do with you. I knew nothing of you. What were you to me? Why should I extend my hospitality to you? All that was necessary to break off your connection, was to give a signal to my engineers, and the Searcher, which is the name of my vessel, would have sunk to the bottom of the ocean. I had the right to do it."

His hearers shuddered at this avowal.

"It seems to me that we are to be prisoners?" observed the professor.

"Certainly."

"But this is an outrage!" exclaimed Mont. "I demand to be put on shore at the nearest port, or given up to the nearest ship we meet."

"You will none of you ever see the earth again, or set foot upon it," replied the captain with much emphasis.

"This floating prison is, then, our tomb—our coffin, in which we must live and die?"

"Call it what you will," replied the captain. "You have obtained the secret of my existence. Do you think I could ever allow you to revisit the world, to let it be known through every newspaper how I pass my life?"

"How are we to address you, sir?"

"My name is Vindex. By my men I am called the Wizard of the Sea."

"Very well, Captain Vindex of the Searcher," said Mont, "we must make the best of our situation, but I will never give my word that I will not attempt to escape."

"I like you, boy, for your honesty," said the Wizard of the Sea, "though I warn you that if you are caught in the attempt, you will be instantly put to death."

"To death? You dare not!"

The captain laughed in a wild, weird manner.

"Dare not!" he said. "Foolish lad, there are no laws for me. I am the sole master here. My black slaves only live to do my bidding. What is your life or death to me? I have no more to say at present. Follow this negro into another cabin, where a repast awaits you."

He called to someone outside, and, bowing politely, went away, while the four companions were conducted to a dining room handsomely furnished and lighted by an electric lamp.

Various preparations invited their attention. The dinner service was of silver, and everything denoted immense wealth on the part of the owner.

The negro waited upon them attentively.

"What's your name?" asked Mont.

"Me name One, massa."

"One!"

"Yes, massa. There twelve slaves on board this ship, and all have figure names, me One, other nigger Two, other Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, and so on up to Twelve."

"That's a queer idea," said our hero; "fancy calling out for your servant, and saying, 'Here, Nine, I want you,' or 'I say, Three, do this'!"

"It is my opinion," exclaimed the professor, "that Captain Vindex is a very remarkable man—the most remarkable, in fact, that ever lived. He has invented a singular ship which can go under the sea at will, but why not? Was not the invention of steam engines laughed at, as well as the invention of gas? Who, a hundred years ago, would have believed in the electric telegraph, by means of which we send a message to the end of the earth in a minute?"

"Very true," replied Mont. "And don't forget the telephone, and the submarine boat the government is trying to build. It's a pity a man of such genius should shut himself up like this, though."

"It is a pity," answered the professor.

"What's worse, though," remarked Carl, "is that he means to keep us as prisoners."

"If he can," said Stump.

"Don't you be so fast, Stump, my boy," said Mont. "Keep your mouth shut, or you may get into trouble."

"Very sorry, but I don't like such goings-on, and wish I was back again on the shore."

The negro handed the professor a fresh dish.

"Will massa have some oysters stewed in whale's milk?" he asked; "or some jam made of sea anemones?"

"I'd rather you'd not tell me what the dishes are; it will set me against them if you do," answered the professor with a wry face.

When the repast was ended, Mont jumped up. "I feel better," he said. "Mister Number One."

"Massa call me?" asked the black, who was clearing away.

"Yes. Where are we now?"

"We gone down, massa, and now we lie at the bottom of the sea."

Mont regarded him with undisguised astonishment.

The Searcher was indeed a wonderful craft.

XVI. THE MYSTERIES OF THE SEARCHER

Many days passed.

The lives of the captives were unvaried by any incident. They saw nothing of Captain Vindex; were well attended to, slept comfortably, and had nothing to complain of but their imprisonment.

Books were freely supplied them, but they were not allowed to leave their cabins.

At the expiration of a fortnight or thereabouts, as well as they could reckon, negro Number One entered their cabin after breakfast.

Addressing Mont, the negro observed:

"Massa Folsom to come to cappen's cabin."

"Does he want me?" inquired Mont. "All right. Good-by, my friends," he added, "perhaps you will never see me again. I may be the first victim."

"No fear!" exclaimed Carl. "We shan't be hurt if we keep quiet."

"I'll suggest that you're the fattest, Carl, if there is any question of cooking one of us."

"Then it won't be true, for you're as fat as a mole. Go on and be cooked first! I'll have a bit of you," answered Barnaby.

Mont went away laughing. He was not really alarmed, for although he did not like Captain Vindex, he fancied he was safe as long as he did not irritate this strange being.

The negro conducted him along a passage which opened into a magnificent library, full of books, which gave admittance to a drawing room furnished with all the taste that could be found in Paris or New York.

The space within the ironclad shell had been made the most of, and no expense had been spared to make the cabin luxurious and well appointed.

The walls were richly papered and covered with valuable paintings. The ceiling was frescoed, and works of art were everywhere to be seen. Rich couches and chairs invited rest, and the foot sank in the soft pile of a Turkey carpet.

Captain Vindex arose as our hero entered.

"Take a seat," he said, as the negro retired, closing the door after him. "I have taken an interest in you, Folsom."

"Thank you," answered Mont coldly.

The captain smiled, approached the end of the room, and, drawing back a curtain, revealed a splendid organ.

"Do you like music?" he asked.

"Very much," answered Mont. "Play us something. It will enliven me a bit. I feel awfully low, and I'll give you a game at dominoes or checkers afterwards, if you like."

Captain Vindex smiled, and, sitting down, played Sousa's "Liberty Bell March" with great skill.

"Thank you," said Mont, when he had finished. "Very fine. Now will you tell me how you manage for air?"

"I will not trouble you with chemical details," answered the captain, "which you would not understand, but when I do not take in air at the surface, I have some compressed in the reservoir, which, by means of an apparatus, is wafted all over the ship."

"And about light and moving about?"

"That is the result of electricity, which I make myself. My motive power is electricity, and I can attain a speed of thirty miles an hour. The men of the world have not yet discovered half the value of electricity. My machinery is of the finest kind. If I want to sink to the bottom of the sea, I fill certain reservoirs I have with water; when I want to rise, I lighten the ship by letting out the water. In short, I have invented everything that is necessary for my safety and comfort."

"Wonderful!" ejaculated Mont.

"Your friend, the professor, would understand me, if I were to explain to him how everything were managed, but to you it all seems as strange as the first railway train did to the country people through whose districts it passed. Engineering science is yet in its infancy. The world has great discoveries to make. You are at present only on the threshold of the great unknown."

"You work your ship with a screw, I suppose?"

"Exactly. The helmsman sits in a cabin with a glass front, and the electric light illumines the sea for some distance, so that all is clear to him."

"Where did you build this extraordinary vessel?" continued our hero.

"On a desert island in the Pacific. I had the various parts brought in a vessel that belonged to me from various parts of the world, and the twelve negroes who are now with me were my only workmen."

"You are rich, then?"

"Money was never any object to me," replied the captain. "If I wanted gold even now, could I not obtain millions from the bottom of the sea out of ships that have sunk? And some day I shall find the great million-dollar pearl for which I am searching. The treasures of the deep are mine; I am the Wizard of the Sea."

He spoke proudly, and his eyes dilated with rapture.

"You like the sea?"

"I love it. I revel in it. Look at the solitude and freedom I enjoy! What life can be comparable to mine?"

"But you must feel weary at times," said Mont.

"Never. I read, I think, and, when I want diversion, I shoot."

"Where?"

"In the submarine forests. I have invented a square case to strap on the back, which is attached to a mask covering the head, and this will contain enough compressed air to last for several hours' consumption, so that I can walk under the waves with ease and comfort."

"And your guns?"

"Are air guns, also my own invention. I have several, and each is prepared to fire twenty shots by a mere movement of the trigger, the requisite force of air being placed in a hollow of the butt end; but all these mysteries will become plain to you before you have been long with me," answered Captain Vindex.

"What time is it?" asked Mont.

Looking at his watch, the captain answered:

"A quarter to twelve, or near midday."

"If you want to give me a treat," said Mont, "I wish you would go up to the surface and let me have a look at the sea, and breathe the fresh air."

"Certainly. Come with me to the engine room."

Mont rose, and followed his conductor through several iron passages to the place where the machinery was fitted up.

A negro saluted the captain.

"Number Twelve," exclaimed the latter, "I wish to ascend."

The engineer touched a valve, and a rush of water escaping was heard.

The pumps were forcing out the water from the reservoirs.

The Searcher began to ascend. After a time she stopped suddenly.

"We have arrived," said the captain.

He led the way up a central spiral staircase, and, raising a small door, they emerged upon what may be called the deck, or what our hero and his companions had taken to be the back of the monster.

Touching a spring, an iron railing sprang up, about five feet high.

This prevented any danger of falling into the sea in rough weather, for it made a small inclosure about twenty feet by ten.

Mont saw that the shape of the ship was something like a long cigar.

The sea was calm and the sky clear; a light breeze fanned their cheeks as Mont opened his lungs to take in the inviting atmosphere.

There was, however, nothing to be seen. All was one vast desert.

The captain proceeded, armed with a sextant, to take the height of the sun, which would give him his latitude.

He waited some minutes until the sun attained the edge of the horizon.

Having calculated the longitude chronometrically, he said:

"To-day I commence a voyage of exploration under the waves."

"When you like," replied Mont; "anything for a little excitement."

The captain conducted him downstairs again, the iron railing fell, the trapdoor closed overhead, and with a bow the strange being left him to join his companions.

XVII. THE DEVIL FISH

"He's about half crazy!"

Such was Mont's conclusion as he joined his companions.

While Mont was telling the others of what he had seen, all were treated to a surprise.

A panel in the wall slid back.

A large sheet of very thick plate glass, quite transparent, was revealed to view almost immediately; a flood of electric light lit up the sea for some distance, and everything was as clear as daylight.

It was as if they were looking at an immense aquarium.

"The captain is giving us a surprise," remarked the professor; "this is charming."

Innumerable fishes of various kinds, most of which were unknown, even to a naturalist of Dr. Woddle's standing, passed before them.

Strange, wild, fierce-looking things, with wonderful tails and heads.

Some looking unmistakably voracious, others being long and slimy like hideous snakes.

They were doubtless attracted by the electric light.

For two hours the four companions gazed at the ever-changing procession, without the least abatement of their delight.

Presently the door opened, and a negro handed the professor a letter.

He opened it and read its contents aloud.

"Captain Vindex presents his compliments to Professor Woddle, and will be glad if he and his companions will accept an invitation to shoot in the weed forests under the sea to-morrow morning at ten o'clock."

"I'll be hanged if I go!" exclaimed Stump. "Not if I know it. I'm safe here, but I don't want to be chawed up by some strange reptile."

"Silence, boy!" said the professor. "Tell Captain Vindex," he continued, to the negro, "that we are much obliged to him for his invitation, which we gladly accept."

The negro bowed and retired.

At the time appointed the professor and the boys were conducted to a cabin, which may be called the dressing-room, or arsenal, of the Searcher.

Hanging on the walls were numerous helmets, such as divers wear, and a number of guns reposed on hooks.

At the last moment Stump had determined to accompany the party.

Captain Vindex was already there, and received them graciously.

"I wish you good-day, professor," he said; "and you, too, my boys. I think we shall enjoy some excellent sport among the sea otters and other animals worth killing. You, Dr. Woddle, will be able to add to your knowledge of natural history, for we are about to traverse a forest of remarkable seaweeds and plants, in which you will find all kinds of submarine life."

"I am obliged to you for your kindness, sir, and put myself entirely at your disposal," replied the professor.

At a signal from the captain, two negroes assisted our heroes to put on their apparel, and clothed them in thick waterproof made of India rubber, which formed trousers and vest, the trousers terminating in a pair of shoes with lead soles; a cuirass of leather protected the chest from the pressure of the water, and allowed the lungs full play.

Supple gloves covered the hands, the helmet was then put on, and the knapsack of compressed air adjusted on the back.

To each one was given a gun, the butt of which was of brass and hollow.

Here was stored the compressed air which discharged the electric bullets, one of which fell into its proper place just as the other had been shot away. The whole mechanism was perfect.

When all was ready they stepped into an empty cabin, the door closed behind them, and, touching a knob, the captain allowed the room to fill with water.

Then he opened a door and they walked out into the sea.

Each had an electric lamp fastened to the waist, which made their path clear and distinct, enabling them to see every object through the glass holes in their helmets.

The captain walked in front with the professor.

Carl and Mont were side by side, and Stump brought up the rear.

Walking was not very difficult, and the supply of air, well charged with the oxygen necessary for prolonged respiration, was all that could be wished. It entered as it was required from the knapsack reservoir, and escaped when used through a turret at the top of the circular helmet.

They proceeded along fine sand, covered with a variety of shells, for at least a mile, when they came to some rocks covered with beautiful anemones.

Innumerable fish sported around them; long, writhing eels, of a prodigious size, with ugly, flat snake-like heads, glided away at their approach, and thousands of jelly fish danced about their heads.

They were not at a great depth, and presumably were near some island, for Mont, looking up, saw the sun overhead, guessing the depth to be about thirty or forty feet.

The sun's rays easily penetrated the waves, and made a kaleidoscope of colors inconceivably beautiful.

If the party could have spoken they would have given vent to their admiration in no measured terms.

The least sound was transmitted easily, showing that the sea is a better conductor of noise than land.

By degrees the depth increased, and they must have been a hundred yards from the surface, as the pressure of the water increased.

Mont suffered no inconvenience except a slight tingling in the ears and fingers.

He moved with ease, and was intensely delighted with the wonderful bed of sea flowers which gave place to the fine sand they had been traversing.

A dark mass extended itself before them; and Captain Vindex, extending his hand, indicated the beginning of the forest.

It was composed of large seaweeds and plants, which extended in a straight manner, having no drooping branches; all were erect and motionless.

When displaced by the hand they resumed a perpendicular position.

They scarcely had any roots in the sand, and were evidently nourished by the water and not by the earth.

Some were long and slender, others short and bushy, covered with blossoms of various colors; others, again, reached a height equal to our forest trees.

They had not proceeded far through this dense jungle of weeds, among which it was difficult to pick a path, when the captain halted.

In front of him was a huge octopus, or devil fish, over three feet in diameter, with long, terrible arms.

It endeavored to seize the professor, who, sinking on his knees, shivered in silent terror!

XVIII. MONT IS LOST

It looked as if Professor Woddle's last moment had come.

In a moment more the devil fish had the shivering man in its fearful embrace.

The captain and Mont, however, raised their guns, and with one shot left it convulsed in its dying agonies.

As they continued to descend into a valley, bounded on each side by high rocks, the darkness increased, for the sun's rays could not penetrate more than a hundred and fifty yards.

It was now that the electric lamps became of importance.

As they got lower and lower, Mont felt an oppression about the head, and a great desire to sleep overcame him.

He lagged behind the others, and with difficulty kept up with them.

Several fine sea otters were seen in front, playing about amongst the weeds.

The captain fired, and the others followed his example.

Three fell dead, one of which Stump took up and threw over his shoulder.

Suddenly Mont sank down on the ground and immediately fell asleep.

His companions, in the eagerness of their chase after the game that had escaped, did not notice his absence.

They had proceeded fully half a mile, when Barnaby, looking back, was unable to discover any trace of Mont.

He at once ran to the captain and made signs, pointing to himself, the professor, and Stump, and pointing in different directions to intimate that Mont was lost.

Captain Vindex at once comprehended his meaning.

He retraced his steps, going carefully over the ground they had trodden.

It was without success, for nowhere could they find the slightest trace of their unfortunate companion.

Carl would have given worlds had he been able to speak.

He was profoundly agitated, for it was horrible to think that his chum was lost under the sea, not knowing his way back to the Searcher, for they had come a roundabout way.

Captain Vindex was also annoyed.

If Mont chose he could climb up the rocks and reach the summit.

There he might take off his helmet, and breathe the free air of heaven.

But would he think of this?

Perhaps in his confusion he would wander about in the effort to meet his companions, and at last be suffocated miserably.

The supply of air with which each was provided was not sufficient to last more than five hours.

Two of those hours' supply had been already consumed.

It was necessary that Captain Vindex and those with him should think of returning to the ship.

Making a sign, he led the way back.

Carl felt inclined to stay and die in the attempt to find his friend.

It would have been an immense relief to him to have said something, but not a sound could he make audible outside his helmet.

With sad and weary steps they traversed the lovely valley, which had lost all its former attractions for the party.

The forest was passed and the sand regained.

They were not more than two miles from the Searcher.

Carl determined to make a last effort.

He seized the captain's arm and pointed pathetically, almost imploringly, to the dense mass of vegetation behind them.

His mute appeal to go back after Mont was comprehended.

But it was disregarded.

Their own lives would have been in jeopardy had they turned back.

The air in the reservoirs was becoming weak and impure.

Shaking his head in a negative manner, the captain pursued his way.

With a heavy heart Carl followed him, and in time the ship was reached.

They entered the water room, closed the doors, and the captain touched a bell.

Directly it sounded within the vessel, the pumps were heard at work, the water gradually lowered, and when it was all out they opened the inner door and regained the dressing-room.

It was indeed a pleasure to have the helmets removed, for they had retained them so long that they were oppressed and ill.

The captain was the first to speak.

"I am very sorry for the misfortune that has happened," he exclaimed; "you must not think me hard-hearted because I returned."

"But Mont will die," answered Carl; "he is lost, and does not know his way back."

"His supply of air will last another hour and a half. There is yet hope."

"What can we do?"

"I will send out a party to search for him, and I will head it myself," replied Captain Vindex.

At this generous offer Carl's heart was filled with fresh hope.

The captain gave orders for three negroes to accompany him.

They were soon dressed and supplied with air, Captain Vindex himself taking a fresh reservoir.

Then the ceremony of going out was repeated, and, as the exploring party quitted the ship, all Carl could do was to pray fervently for their success.

He, the professor, and Stump were very languid, and, in spite of their anxiety, they could not shake off the somnolent effects of their long walk.

Each sank down on the floor of their cabin, and was soon fast asleep.

How long they remained there they did not know.

Barnaby awoke, feeling a hand laid on his shoulder. It was Captain Vindex.

Springing to his feet in an instant, he said:

"Have you found him? Where is Mont?"

"Unhappily," said the captain, "we could find no trace of him."

"Why did I let him go last? I ought to have had him in front of me," cried Carl angrily. "Poor Mont! he is lying at the bottom of the sea, and I shall never see him again. Never, never!"

He covered his face with his hands, and the tears trickled down his cheeks.

"I have dispatched another party to seek for him," exclaimed the captain; "I am too worn out to go with them this time. If they find the body, we may restore him to consciousness."

"There is no hope," said Carl sadly; "you are the cause of his death. Why did you inclose us in this tomb, and then take one of us in the sea to die?"

"Was it my fault? You are hasty, my boy, and do me great injustice. I am as much grieved as yourself, for I had begun to love that lad," said the captain feelingly. "We will mourn for him together; there is a silent friendship in grief. We are friends, for we have the same sorrow."

In a few hours the searching party came back, weary and unsuccessful.

They could see nothing of Mont.

Everyone gave up all hope, and our hero was mourned for as one dead.

XIX. MONT'S PERIL

"Where am I? Where are you, Carl?"

After about an hour's sleep Mont was aroused by an acute sensation of pain in his right leg.

Stretching out his hand, he encountered a slimy substance, and withdrew it very quickly.

Leaning on his elbow, he saw by the light of his lamp that a strange fish, with a head like a frying-pan and a body resembling that of a codfish, was biting through his waterproof covering and trying to eat part of his leg.

In an instant he seized his gun, and, firing at its eye, wounded it grievously, causing it to splash about and retreat into a mass of weeds, where its struggles continued for some time.

For a moment Mont forgot where he was.

But as his senses came back to him, he recollected everything, and, rising, looked about for his companions.

As he could see nothing of them, a horrible fear took possession of him, and he trembled from head to foot.

They had lost him in the depths of the ocean.

Without an experienced guide like Captain Vindex, it was impossible for him to find his way back.

The dangerous and perhaps fatal sleep which had overcome him must be fought against.

For if it came on again he knew he must die.

How much precious air had he not consumed already?

To him, in his condition, air was life.

He knew that he had only a supply for a limited period.

The only course that remained open to him was to march as quickly as the dense mass of water would let him, and try to regain the Searcher.

But though he turned round, he could not find the sandy plain they had first traversed on leaving the ship.

The forest of sea weeds, rising straight as arrows on all sides of him, erect and motionless, grew dense; animal life was everywhere.

Strange fishes glared at him, and seemed to mock his misery by their quick, darting movements and sportive gambols.

He pushed his way fiercely through the vegetable growth, but only to become more entangled.

All at once the ground became hilly, and it seemed as if he had come to the end of the valley and was ascending one of the sides.

He pushed on, thinking he would give the world to be able to rise to the surface.

If he could only penetrate that thick water and float on the top of the waves, breathing the free air of heaven, he would have gladly done so, even if he were to die an hour afterward.

Gradually he quitted the forest, and the sun's rays began to be visible again.

Decidedly he must be getting higher.

Presently a great black mass appeared at his side.

He could see that it was a ferocious shark, whose huge mouth seemed capable of engulfing him.

Instinctively he threw himself on his back.

The voracious creature had made a dart at him, but shot past, disappointed of its prey.

If it had seized his arm or his leg, or even his head, one snap of its mouth would have been sufficient to cut off either.

As the animal swam around him Mont pointed his gun and fired.

The shot entered its stomach, but was not mortal.

Another and another followed, and at last the vast mass floated slowly upward, showing that it was dead.

Thanking Providence for this narrow escape, and congratulating himself on his presence of mind, our hero continued the ascent.

The path became steep and rugged, and it was with difficulty that he made his way.

He was evidently ascending the side of a rock, which became more precipitous as he went on.

Where did it lead?

Was it raised above the surface or did it fall short of it?

If so, he would have his trouble for nothing.

He breathed with an effort, and his breath grew shorter and shorter every moment, for he was making a great demand upon his reservoir of air while undergoing strong exertion.

At length he had to stop.

It seemed as if his strength were failing him.

The sleepy feeling overtook him again, and he leaned back against the shining rock, which reflected the sun's rays.

He was face to face with death.

Not much longer would his lungs be supplied with breathing air.

Suffocation threatened Mont with a painful end, yet he was so weak and prostrate that he seemed unable to make another effort.

Every moment was of priceless value.

At last he went on.

How he did it he never knew; but he managed to climb the almost perpendicular rocks, which afforded little or no footing.

At last the sun's rays were more vivid, and, with a feeling of wonder, Mont found himself moving with comparative ease.

This was because he had reached the summit of the rock after climbing nearly two hundred and fifty yards.

He was out of the water.

With nervous hands he tore off his helmet, and, lying on his side, inhaled the air for a few minutes.

"I am saved, saved!" cried Mont delightedly.

He rose at length, and looked around him.

The rock on which he was standing was a narrow, barren peak, which just rose above the surface, and that was all.

The remainder of the ledge was under water. If he had not ascended in that place he must have died.

Afar off was what appeared to be a small island. But whether it was an arid desert or not he was unable to tell.

"Perhaps I shall die of hunger and thirst," he muttered; "but death is better here than in the forest under the sea."

Sleep again overcame him, and he passed several hours in a deep slumber.

With wakefulness came a horrible sensation of hunger and thirst.

While he was gazing around him, with despair again attacking him, he saw something rise in the sea a short distance off.

He thought he recognized the black back of the Searcher, and he was not mistaken.

The trapdoor opened, and two men appeared on the platform.

They were Captain Vindex and Professor Woddle.

Mont tried to cry out, but only a feeble sound came from his lips.

He, however, waved his hands, and the signal was seen.

Soon the electric boat floated gently to the rock.

He stepped on the platform, which was by this time crowded with the crew, Carl, and Stump.

The next moment he was in the arms of kind friends.

He sank fainting at their feet, and was carried below, where he remained some days before he entirely recovered his strength.

Captain Vindex had entertained an idea that Mont might reach the surface by climbing up the rocks, although he scarcely dared to hold this opinion as a certainty.

But when nothing could be seen of him below the surface, he resolved to look for him above.

Consequently the Searcher rose under his orders, with the happy result we have described.

XX. THE WRECKS

When Mont was fully recovered, the negro Number One announced that they were going on a long voyage.

"Massa say him start for, um South Pole," he said. "In one hour we be off, and travel for many week. Travel to the Pole."

In effect, they soon heard the motion of the machinery, and the Searcher began her long submarine cruise.

For about a week they saw nothing of the captain.

This mysterious man shut himself up and sought intercourse with no one.

Every day, for some hours, the panel in their cabin slid back, and they enjoyed the treat of looking at the sea lighted by electricity.

The direction of the Searcher was southeast, and she kept at a depth of a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet.

One day, while the electric ship was stopping to replenish her power, a curious incident happened.

Stump was looking out of the window, and he suddenly exclaimed:

"What is that, sir?"

Everyone went to examine, and a ship dismantled was seen slowly sinking to the bottom.

It had foundered a short time before with all hands.

Several men were lashed to the riggings, and their agonized faces testified to their late sufferings.

A shoal of sharks followed the sinking wreck with distended eyes, anticipating a feast of human flesh.

As the hull passed the window, Mont read her name, which was the Firefly of Savannah.

This was not an isolated case, for they frequently saw wrecks, and remains of wrecks, such as cannons, anchors, chains, and decaying hulls.

"Well, this is a lively existence," exclaimed Mont; "we eat nothing but fish, and see nothing but fish."

"And wrecks," put in Carl.

A heavy step was heard behind them, and all turned round, to see the captain.

He placed his hand upon a map, and exclaimed:

"Do you see this island—Malonon? It is where the gallant French explorer Posterri perished. We are close to it, and, if you please, gentlemen, you shall land and explore it for yourselves."

This was good news.

"But," said the professor, "if I remember rightly, it is inhabited by savages."

"Certainly."

"Shall we not be in danger?"

"I fear nothing," said the captain. "I have braved danger among civilized nations, and I can afford to despise savages. If you do not wish it, however, I will continue my voyage."

"Don't do that, sir," replied Mont. "I'll chance the niggers. Let us land. I know Carl and Stump would like it."

"And you, Mr. Professor?" said the captain.

"I, sir, will go anywhere in the interests of science," replied Homer Woddle, with a nervous tremor in his voice which showed he did not like savages.

The news raised the boys' spirits to the highest pitch.

After confinement on board the Searcher the prospect of going on land was enchanting.

No matter what danger they might encounter they were ready.

Carl whispered that they might have a chance of escaping.

Mont said nothing, but he was of the same opinion.

XXI. ON LAND ONCE MORE

The party were allowed to go on shore without even promising to return, and the heart of each beat high with the prospect of liberty before them.

Professor Woddle explained that they might traverse the country nearby, and so get to some port, but the journey would be perilous in the extreme.

His advice was to camp in the wood, obtain fresh provisions, and await the course of events.

Stump alone was in doubt.

"The captain," he remarked, "is a wonderful man, and knows perfectly well what he is about. He has told us we shall never again set our feet on civilized ground, has he not?"

"Yes. Everyone knows that," answered the professor.

"He'll keep his word, and I'll bet a new hat we are on board again to-morrow, or perhaps to-day."

"I'll take you," replied Mont, "though how the bet is to be paid I don't know, as there are no hat shops on board the boat."

"I'd give something to find out all about our skipper," said Carl. "He is the most curious beggar I ever met. All four of us are not a match for him."

"Speak for yourself, my young but still intelligent friend," answered the professor. "Time will show."

"We'll have some fresh meat soon," observed Stump, "and if you'll trust the cooking to me, Master Mont, you shall have a dinner fit for a king in half an hour after running down the game."

"A little venison or wild boar, which is pork, would be very acceptable," answered the professor; "and my knowledge of natural history enables me to tell you that we shall find both on this island which we are about to visit."

"Roast pork—lovely! It makes my mouth water," said Stump.

"Do you want to have the jaw all to yourself?" asked Mont. "Go and ask when the boat will be ready to take us ashore."

Stump departed on his errand and found the boat already prepared for them.

It was made of various pieces of wood, which were easily put together when it was wanted and taken apart when it was not required.

It would hold half a dozen men, and floated by the side of the Searcher.

Each of the four companions was provided with an electric gun containing the usual twenty shots.

"A pleasant excursion, gentlemen," said the captain, as they emerged on the platform; "I hope you do not intend to deprive me for any length of time of the pleasure of your society."

"Wouldn't do such a thing for worlds, sir," answered our hero.

"You needn't return to-night, if you prefer camping out."

"We didn't mean to," replied Mont.

A peculiar smile crossed Captain Vindex's expressive face, as if he guessed what was passing in the youth's mind.

"Remember one thing," he said; "be very careful of your ammunition."

"Why?"

"You will find out in time. All I have to say is, recollect my advice," was the answer.

They got into the boat and rowed ashore, picking their way carefully through the coral reefs, and in five minutes the bottom of the boat grated upon a sandy beach.

"Hurrah!" cried Mont, throwing up his cap; "land once more!"

Stump, who was thoroughly familiar with all the tricks of boys, put down his hands and "turned a wheel," after which he stood on his head, to give expression to his delight.

Huge forests stretched far inland, and raised their mighty heads a hundred feet from the earth.

Palms, shrubs, and creepers were mingled with the trees in grand confusion, and this scene, in the glowing sunshine, was indescribably beautiful.

The professor saw a cocoanut palm, and, knocking off some of the fruit, gave it to the boys, who pronounced it delicious.

"Now," he said, "we will shoot something and dine as we have not dined for a long time."

"I've some salt in my pocket, and Stump has knives," remarked Carl.

"It looks to me," said Mont, "as if we were likely to have a sirloin of tiger for dinner; that forest ought to be full of wild beasts."

"No matter," answered Carl, "anything's better than fish. Come on."

They skirted the forest, fearing to enter it lest they might lose themselves in its dense interior.

Keeping their guns ready for instant action, they proceeded about half a mile, when the professor held up his hand.

In front of them was a large breadfruit tree, and under its branches was a wild boar, engaged in eating the tender fruit which had fallen to the ground.

"Approach gently, and fire all together," said the professor.

They did so, and four shots were discharged at the same time.

The wild boar uttered a ferocious grunt, ran a few paces, and fell down dead.

"What is it, sir?" asked Carl.

"A wild boar; do you not see his tusks? Now, Stumpton, set to work, and cut a leg of pork off piggy. You, Folsom, make a fire with the dry wood; it will kindle when I rub two sticks together. You, Barnaby, gather some of this fruit."

"Is it good to eat, sir?"

"You will find it excellent. I recognize it as the breadfruit of the tropics, and, cut up in slices and toasted over the fire, nothing could be better for us with our roast pork," answered the professor.

They were quickly at work. The fire was lighted, the leg of pork cut off and fixed to a tripod, the breadfruit toasted, and plates supplied by large palm leaves. Presently a delicious odor of roast pork spread itself around.

After living so long on the peculiar fare provided by Captain Vindex, they enjoyed their dinner immensely; and, when they had satisfied their appetites, they sat down under the shade of a tree, sheltered from the noontide heat.

"Now, sir," said Mont, "what are we to do?"

"I have no wish to return to our floating prison," replied the professor. "The question is, shall we go back, or shall we try to make our way to some port, risking the dangers of the way, the chances of starvation?"

"That does not appear likely," answered Mont, thinking of the roast pork and the breadfruit.

"When our guns are empty, we may not find it so easy to kill game, however abundant it may be. The savages are another danger."

"Put it to the vote, sir," said our hero.

"Certainly; all you who wish to make an effort to escape from the thralldom in which we are held, hold up your hands."

Every hand was extended.

"To the contrary?"

There was no response.

"Not a hand," said the professor. "I may, then, conclude, that we are unanimous in our wish for freedom, and it is decided that we do not return to the Searcher."

"Hurrah!" cried Stump, proceeding to stand on his head again.

"If you don't stop those street-arab tricks," remarked Mont, "you'll have a fit, after such a meal as you've had."

Stump resumed his natural position.

"There's no lie, sir, about my having had a filler of pork," he replied. "But though I'm only an odd boy, I've got my feelings, and I'd as soon be a convict as in that there prison ship."

"The youth is right," observed the professor mildly; "to live and die in that ship is an awful prospect, and I would rather herd with savages in their wilds than do it."

And as if it was intended as an answer to his speech, an arrow flew over his head.

Fortunately it missed its mark, and stuck quivering into the bark of the tree under which they were sitting.

Everyone sprang to his feet, and stood, gun in hand, on the defensive.

"Savages, by George!" exclaimed Mont.

"Where?" asked the professor.

"To the right, sir. Fire away, and chance it, or we shall all be killed."

There was an instant discharge of firearms, and a scuffling was heard behind some cactus and mimosa bushes.

A dozen savages, nearly naked, armed with spears and bows and arrows, were seen in a state of hesitation, whether to fly or stand their ground.

Three of their number had fallen from the discharge, and one, who was mortally wounded, was crawling, in a slow, labored manner, into the bush to die.

XXII. FIGHTING THE SAVAGES

"They are retreating!" cried Mont joyfully.

"No! no! they are coming on again!" put in Carl, a few seconds later.

"At 'em again, boys; let them have it," said the professor.

"Hot and strong this time, sir," said Stump, advancing a step to take better aim.

Again the bullets flew, and three more savages went down.

The others turned to fly to the shelter of the neighboring forests.

"Hurrah! they're bolting," said Mont.

"But they've collared what was left of our bread, and the remains of the roast pork," said the hired boy angrily. "Oh, the varmints! I'll just give them something."

He advanced to fire better.

An aged chief, however, turned at this moment and discharged a parting shot which took effect in the calf of Stump's leg.

"Oh, dear! I'm hit," he cried. "A great wooden skewer's stuck right in my leg, sir. Perhaps it's poisoned, sir. Oh, dear, but I wish it hadn't been me. There's the professor, now; he could have borne it better than me."

"Thank you, my young friend," said the professor, "the calf of my leg is as susceptible to pain as yours; let us get away, as arrowheads are sharp, and in certain parts of the body mortal."

"Where shall we go?" asked Mont.

"We are not safe here. The savages will return in larger numbers directly, and we shall probably lose our lives, so I propose to seek our boat."

"And go back to the Searcher?" asked Carl.

"Yes."

"Never! I for one will not go!" cried Carl.

"And I can't crawl. I'm as lame as a dog," said Stump, half crying.

"Roll, if you can't walk," said the professor jokingly.

"Pull it out, sir. Give me a hand with it. It hurts awful."

Mont advanced to the boy and seized the arrowhead, which he tugged at until, with a torrent of blood, it came out of the wound.

It was with difficulty Stump managed to limp on one leg, and seemed very grateful when Mont bound up the wound and told him to lean on his shoulder.

"My dear boy," said the professor, "discretion is the better part of valor. I am averse to the taking of human life, for I am a man of science and not a fighter. My advice is to check the advance of those bloodthirsty savages, and when your ammunition is spent, to run. As I am old, and not quick of foot, I will start at once."

So saying, he ran with all speed to the boat.

"Coward!" said Mont angrily.

"What are we to do?" asked Carl blankly.

"Follow him, I suppose," replied Mont. "Bring up the rear, Carl, while I help Stump along, and if the beasts show again, call us, and we will turn and fire."

They began to beat a retreat in this order, and, fortunately, the natives did not again make an appearance.

The half-mile was traversed quickly, Stump groaning dreadfully as he was forced along.

When within a few paces of the boat awful yells were heard behind them.

Turning to see from whence they proceeded, Mont saw a horde of savages in pursuit. The sands seemed to be alive with them.

Evidently the defeated party had returned to obtain re-enforcements and apprise their companions of the slaughter which had taken place, urging them to avenge it.

An army of at least three hundred wild-looking fiends were at their heels, and not a moment was to be lost.

"Quick, for Heaven's sake!" said Professor Woddle. "The savages are upon us. Quick, boys, or we are lost!"

The boys sprang into the boat, placing Stump in the bows, and pushed off.

Carl and Mont plied the oars vigorously.

Fortunately, when the savages reached the beach they were some distance out.

A flight of arrows fell close to them without doing them any harm.

At least a hundred of the natives plunged into the sea up to the waist, but they did not attempt to swim after the boat, which soon reached the Searcher.

Mont expected to see someone, but the platform was deserted.

Our hero at once went to the captain, being alarmed at the hostile attitude of the savages, whom he did not doubt were possessed of canoes and would make an attack upon the ship.

He was annoyed at being obliged to take shelter so soon, but what could he do?

All his hopes of liberty in flight were nipped in the bud.

He began to see now that Captain Vindex knew the character of the coast, and had calculated well on their return to their captivity.

Imprisonment with him was better than death or slavery among the savages of the island.

The captain was sitting in front of the organ playing an exquisite air of Beethoven.

Full of excitement, Mont had no time to listen.

He touched him on the shoulder.

The Wizard of the Sea seemed unconscious of his presence.

"Captain," said our hero.

The strange being shivered and turned round.

"Ah," he cried, "'tis you, Mr. Folsom. Have you had good sport? You have returned sooner than I expected."

"The sport was not bad," replied Mont, "but unfortunately we met with a troop of savages, who spoilt our fun."

The captain smiled ironically.

"Savages!" he repeated. "Were you surprised at meeting with them? Have you so little geographical knowledge that you do not know they swarm hereabouts?"

"All I know is," replied Mont, "that if you don't want them on board the boat, you had better look out."

"My dear fellow," said the captain, "I am not likely to trouble my head about such wretches."

"But there are lots of them."

"How many?"

"Over three hundred, I should think, as well as I could count."

"We have nothing to fear from them, nothing at all," said the captain. "Don't be alarmed."

Without another word he turned again to the organ, and played a Scotch air which had an indescribable charm about it.

He was plunged again in a reverie that Mont did not think it prudent to interrupt.

He remounted to the platform without seeing a single negro.

The most absolute want of precaution reigned on board the Searcher, and it looked as if no one knew that hundreds of howling savages were within five minutes' row of them.

In the growing darkness, which came on while Mont was alone, he could see the forms of the natives running backward and forward on the beach.

They were evidently planning an attack upon a large scale.

What could account for the captain's strange apathy?

After a time he forgot the natives in admiring the lovely night of the tropics.

The zodiacal stars appeared, and the moon shone brightly amidst innumerable constellations of the zenith.

He wished that the moon would light the Searcher to the coral bed, and that they would sink to the bottom, where they would be safe from their enemies.

Proceeding below again he sought his friends.

The door giving access to the interior of the boat remained open, and he observed a slave standing at the bottom of the staircase as if on watch.

Stump had his leg plastered up, and, though in pain, was much better.

Strange to say, all were pleased to return to the boat, and to escape a fearful death of lifelong slavery among the savages, who are known to travelers as the Papouans.

Mont slept badly, for he anticipated a night attack.

XXIII. ELECTRIFYING THE SAVAGES

"What a sight! They are going to attack us, sure!"

It was Mont who spoke, as at six o'clock in the morning he ascended to the platform.

The morning mist had lifted, and he could see the land distinctly.

The savages were very busy, and more numerous than they had been the night before.

As well as he could calculate, he counted six or seven hundred of them.

They were tall, handsome men, with an erect bearing, their features well chiseled.

In their ears they wore rings of bone.

Their arms were bows and arrows, spears, and shields made of the skins of fish stretched over a wooden frame or the back of the turtle.

A chief rowed in a canoe toward the Searcher, keeping at a safe distance.

He was adorned with a fantastic headdress of feathers and leaves, and seemed to be the king of the country.

Having nothing better to do, Mont got a fishing line from the negro who usually attended upon him, and amused himself with catching some of the fish that swam round the ship.

No one made any preparation to repel an attack of the Papouans, which alarmed Mont very much.

He had, however, so much confidence in the sagacity of Captain Vindex that he believed he would not be caught asleep.

For two hours he continued his sport with tolerable success, and was so wrapped up in it that he forgot the natives for the time.

While he was engaged in pulling up a good bite, an arrow whizzed past him.

Mont dropped his fish, and very nearly his line.

"Bother the brutes!" he exclaimed; "can't they let a fellow fish in peace? Why doesn't the captain make a start and get away from them?"

He was as eager now to leave the land as he had been the day before to reach it.

It was clear that the Papouans were puzzled.

They had seen European ships before, but what could they make of a long cylinder of iron, without masts, almost flush with the surface of the water, and no chimney like a steamer?

But they gained confidence as they saw no attempt made to drive them away.

They had seen some of their number killed by the air-guns, yet they had heard no noise.

All at once a flotilla consisting of a score of canoes, full of savages, put off from the shore, and approached the ship.

Mont at once sought refuge in the interior of the ship, and ran to apprise the captain of the formidable state affairs were assuming.

Clearly no orders had been given to repel boarders.

Knocking at the captain's door, he was told to enter.

Captain Vindex was reading.

"Do I disturb you?" asked Mont politely.

"A little," replied the captain; "but I suppose you have good reason for seeking me?"

"Rather," answered our hero. "We are surrounded by savages, and in a few minutes we shall have them on board."

"Ah," said the captain, "they have got their canoes, I suppose?"

"Heaps of them."

"Then we must do something."

"Shut up the shop," said Mont.

"That is easily done," replied the captain, touching a bell, and adding: "In half a minute the trapdoor will be closed. You need not be afraid that they will break in."

"No, but to-morrow we shall want air, and you must open the door again for your pumps to work."

"Yes; our ship is like a great whale, and cannot live without air."

"In a moment the Papouans will be on the top of us, and I don't suppose they will go away in a hurry," replied Mont.

"You suppose they will take possession of the outside and keep it?"

"Exactly."

"Well, then," answered the captain calmly, "I don't see why they shouldn't. Why should I kill the poor creatures if I can help it? I know many savages in the civilized world whom I would cut off with more pleasure. Leave them to me. If it is necessary I will make a terrible example of them."

"You have no cannon."

"I shall not fire a shot, and I shall not wound them in any way, and yet they will fall like leaves in autumn. Go to your friends, and rest perfectly easy," said the captain.

This was a dismissal, and, wondering much, Mont went away.

As he sought his cabin he heard the fierce cries of the savages, who swarmed on the back of the iron ship like flies in summer.

The night passed without any incident. Plenty of oxygen still passed through the ship, but it was time to renew the air, which was becoming impure.

Breakfast was served in the morning, as usual.

Eleven o'clock came, and the captain showed no signs of moving.

This apathy appeared incomprehensible to Mont.

Without any difficulty the vessel could have gone out to sea, risen in mid-ocean, and taken in fresh air.

"It is very odd we don't move," he remarked.

"I can't understand it," said the professor. "But everything is so remarkable on board this ship that I have ceased to wonder at anything."

"I've had a taste of niggers, and don't want another," said Stump, who was lying on a mattress with his leg bound up.

"Hark at the reptiles! What a thundering row they're kicking up!" remarked Mont.

"I never heard such a racket," answered Carl; "our skipper must be out of his head not to start the vipers."

The captain appeared in the doorway.

There was a pleasant smile on his face, and he did not seem at all alarmed at the menacing aspect of affairs.

"Gentlemen," he said, "we resume our voyage at twelve o'clock exactly."

"It is now a quarter to," said the professor, regarding his chronometer.

"Precisely. I shall open the flap, and take in air directly."

"And the niggers?" said Mont.

"The Papouans?" replied the captain, shrugging his shoulders.

"Won't they get in?"

"How?"

"Easily enough, by walking down the ladder. They can do that when the flap is up, and can kill us all without any trouble."

"Gentlemen," said Captain Vindex, "the Papouans will not descend the staircase, although the flap is open."

They regarded this singular man in amazement.

"You do not understand me," he continued. "Come to the bottom of the ladder, and you shall see."

"Shall we take our guns?" asked the professor.

"Not the slightest necessity."

"At least your slaves are armed?"

"They are all at their work; follow me," said the captain.

They obeyed his order, and walked to the foot of the metal ladder.

The captain folded his arms, and stood by the side of the professor.

Mont and Carl were together.

Even Stump had crawled along the passage to see what would happen.

Captain Vindex made a sign to a slave, who, touching a spring, caused a trapdoor in the back of the Searcher to fly open.

The sunshine descended in a flood.

Terrible cries of rage and triumph were heard, and a swarm of natives appeared on all sides.

At least twenty made a rush at the ladder, brandishing their tomahawks and spears, while they uttered fierce yells and scraps of war songs.

The first who grasped the railing, and placed his foot on the ladder, gave a bound back, and the most fearful shrieks burst from his quivering lips. A second, a third, and a fourth did the same.

What invisible force was at work Mont did not know. He thought the days of magic and sorcery had returned.

A score of Papouans tried to descend; but they had no sooner made the attempt than they instantly retreated, yelling dismally, and threw themselves into the sea.

"Stunning," said Mont. "It's fine, but I don't know how you do it."

The captain smiled.

To get a better view, Mont put one foot on the staircase and one hand on the railing.

He immediately withdrew them, uttering a cry which was loud enough to wake the dead.

"Oh, oh!" he cried.

"What's up?" exclaimed Carl, who could not help laughing.

"I see the dodge now," said Mont; "it's an electric battery applied to the metal of the staircase, and whoever touches it has a shock. I've had it before at Coney Island, and at fairs. You pay a dime and get electrified."

"Ah!" ejaculated the professor, upon whom a light began to dawn.

"You are right," said the captain calmly. "I have connected the brass staircase with the powerful storage battery that gives us light and power, and the ignorant savages are frightened at they know not what. If they had persisted in their attempt to enter the ship I should have applied all my electrical force, and they would have fallen as dead as flies on a fly paper; but I did not wish to harm them. They are enemies unworthy of my hatred."

The news of the dreadful and mysterious pains which they felt were spread by the shocked natives to their friends.

Alarmed and horrified, they beat a precipitate retreat, swimming and rowing back to the shore.

In half an hour the beach was deserted, and all flew away from the sea fiend whose nature they could not understand.

"They take us for the Old Nick," said Mont.

"Twelve o'clock," exclaimed the captain, who was always as punctual as fate; "I said we should sail at twelve."

At this moment the engines began to revolve, and the Searcher skimmed over the surface of the sea like a bird.

The air was soon taken into the reservoirs, the flap or panel was closed, and sinking into the bosom of the waves, she glided along, moved by her powerful screw, like a big fish; only the helmsman, sitting in his solitary place of lookout, being responsible for her management.

XXIV. A PEARL WORTH A FORTUNE

They traversed the ocean at a depth of about a hundred yards from the surface.

The health of the captives continued good.

Stump was the only grumbler; the others read and talked, resigning themselves to their fate, and waiting the next adventure which should befall them in their singular voyage.

"I tell you what it is, sir," exclaimed Stump one day; "I wish I could get my fist near that there captain. If I wouldn't give him a knockout I'd let a whale come and eat me."

"What have you to grumble at, my friend?" inquired Professor Woddle. "You are comfortably housed, well fed, and have a constant source of excitement in the movements of this remarkable ship."

"Bother the ship. Why didn't she strike on a rock and bust up?" said Stump. "I'd rather be back to Nautical Hall any day than here."

"Bide your time, my lad," continued the professor; "something will happen some day."

"Very prob'ble, sir, but it's waiting for it to turn up as I don't like. Just shove me alongside of that blessed captain, and if I don't give him——"

"Stump," interrupted Mont, "you shut up. I wouldn't mind being back to the Hall myself, but finding fault won't take us there."

"Certainly, sir. I don't have much chance of talking. I shall forget my own language soon; but no matter, I am only a hired boy, I know, and, of course, shouldn't have no feelings."

Mont took the trouble to pacify him, explaining that to provoke a quarrel with the captain would not in any way improve their position.

On the contrary, it might deprive them of the little liberty and comforts they now enjoyed, and make their miserable condition much worse.

Stump saw this and promised to be quiet.

He was a strong lad for his age, as hard as iron, and brave as a young lion.

"Just promise me this, sir," he said.

"What?"

"If I see a good chance of stepping it, you'll be with me?"

"Like a shot. But we mustn't do anything rash, you know, Stump," replied Mont. "Captain Vindex is not to be trifled with. A man who can build a ship like this, make electricity take the place of steam, and so store the air as to make it sufficient for use for twenty-four hours, is one of those great spirits who think of everything, and with whom we cannot hope to cope on equal terms."

"Don't know so much about that, sir," said Stump. "I once had a round with a professional boxer and laid him low in two minutes."

Mont laughed, and the conversation dropped.

The voyage continued to the Indian Sea, and was not remarkable for anything more exciting than the capture of several turtles in nets, and the shooting of various sea birds, which supplied an agreeable addition to the comforts of the table.

In the Indian Sea they encountered hundreds of the nautilus tribe floating gracefully on the surface of the water, their tiny sails spread, catching the wind, and looking like little ships.

One day Captain Vindex entered.

"Would you like to see the banks upon which grow the oysters which contain the pearls?" asked the captain.

"Under the sea?" said Mont.

"An excursion, submarine?" said the professor.

"Precisely so. Are you inclined to go?"

"Very much, indeed," replied all in chorus, with the exception of Stump.

"This is not the time of year for the pearl divers to be at work," said the captain, "though we may see one or two. I will bring the ship nearer land, and show you some of the treasures of the deep. They fish for pearls in the Gulf of Bengal, in the Indian seas, as well as those of China and Japan, off the coast of South America, and in the Gulf of Panama and that of California, but it is at Ceylon that they find the richest harvest."

"That is a fact," said the professor; "the richest pearls, as you say, are found here."

"Right," said the captain. "We, however, shall see more than any diver ever dreams of. Perhaps I shall find my pearl worth a million, for which I have searched so long. I shall be at your service, gentlemen, in a few hours."

When the captain had departed the professor was very grave.

Carl and Mont were delighted at the prospect of finding pearls, but Stump bit his nails in silence.

"I'll take home a pearl or two for luck!" exclaimed Mont.

"If you ever get home, sir," remarked Stump, half aloud.

"You'll go with us, won't you?" asked Mont.

"I'll go wherever you and Master Carl go, Master Mont," replied Stump, "because it's my duty to watch over you. But I aint going to have no sort of friendship with that captain, not by a jugful!"

"He's all right, when you know him."

"Is he? Then I don't want to know him."

Turning to the professor, Mont exclaimed:

"Shall we have good sport, sir?"

"Most likely," answered Mr. Woddle.

"Are there many sharks about?"

"It is no use disguising the fact. The sea hereabouts swarms with them. I should not like to meet one under the waves. A pearl has been called by poets a tear of the sea, and anything more lovely around a maiden's neck cannot be conceived. I have a strong wish to hunt for those tears of the sea, and behold them growing in their shells, but Heaven protect us from the sharks."

Stump disappeared for a brief space, and returned with a long harpoon.

"What have you got there?" asked Mont.

"It's a reg'lar pig-sticker, isn't it, sir?" remarked Stump, regarding it admiringly.

"It does look as if it could give an ugly prod," remarked Carl.

"They call it a harpoon; thing for sticking whales. Me and Number One, that's the nigger as waits on us, is friends, sir, and he's given me this to fight the darned sharkses with."

"Bravo, Stump!" exclaimed Carl.

"It would be 'Bravo Stump,' if I could rip up an inch or two of that captain, and seize the blessed ship!" rejoined the boy with a scowl.

Mont said nothing in reply, but waited patiently for the signal which would summon him and his companions to the captain's side.

It came an hour or two before daybreak.

A negro summoned them to the platform, near which the boat attached to the ship was riding.

It was manned by four men, and when all the party were on board the negroes began to row toward the island.

At six o'clock the day broke. They were a few miles from the land, which was distinctly visible, with a few trees scattered here and there.

The captain stood up in the boat, and narrowly regarded the sea. At last he gave a sign, and the anchor was lowered.

"Here we are," said the captain. "Put on your divers' caps, gentlemen, and follow me."

The heavy sea garments were quickly put on.

The electric lamps were not needed, because the depth was not great.

Besides, the electric light would attract the sharks, who were creatures they could not afford to despise.

The only arm given to each of the party was a long, sharp knife.

Captain Vindex set the example of springing into the sea, the others following him as soon as they were thoroughly equipped.

The negroes remained in the boat awaiting their return.

A depth of about three yards and a half did not give them a very great submersion.

To be supplied with condensed air, to be armed, and well lighted up by the sun was delightful. They walked along the bottom of the sea, easily seeing the smallest object on all sides of them.

After some little walking they came to several oyster banks, from which the shells containing the valuable pearls were dragged by the hands of the divers.

There were millions of them, and the mine seemed inexhaustible.

They could not stop to examine everything, for it was necessary to follow the captain everywhere.

The road was uneven; sometimes Mont could raise his arm and put his hand out of the water; at others, he was descending a slope, and the sun's rays were not so vivid.

Everything became more obscure, and great shells were seen sticking to curiously shaped rocks.

After a time a large grotto appeared before them, dimly lighted.

The captain entered, followed by the rest of the party, the professor eagerly taking note of everything.

Stump carried his harpoon, which was a good deal longer than himself; and the two boys eagerly looked for pearls, as if they expected to find them lying at their feet.

Descending an inclined plane, Captain Vindex stopped and pointed out an object which they had not hitherto perceived.

It was an oyster of gigantic size.

Lying alone upon the granite rock, it took up a large space, and never had the professor even heard of such a huge bivalve.

The shells were open a little, as if the oyster was feeding, which enabled the captain to introduce his knife.

Keeping the two shells open by both ends of his knife, he pushed back the flesh of the oyster and revealed a pearl as big as a small cocoanut.

It was a pearl worth at least a hundred thousand dollars.

XXV. THE MAN OF MYSTERY

Mont advanced to the oyster, and stretched out his hand as if he would have seized the pearl, but he was disappointed.

By a sudden movement the captain withdrew his knife, and the two shells came together with a sharp snap.

Satisfied with showing them this treasure of the deep, he turned round, and retraced his steps, leaving the precious pearl behind them.

Incomprehensible man, he was now more than ever a mystery to our hero.

He allowed them to seek and take numerous other pearls, but would not let them touch that he had shown them.

Again they wandered along the bottom of the sea, beholding many things worthy of observation.

Sometimes the bank was so shallow that their heads came above the water; at others they sank several yards below.

Suddenly the captain stopped, and by a movement of his hand ordered the party to conceal themselves behind a projecting rock.

He pointed to the liquid mass in front of them, and all followed with their eyes the direction indicated.

About five yards off a shadow came between the party and the rays of the sun.

Mont thought of the "sea butcher," as the divers of Ceylon call the shark, and trembled a little at the idea.

But he deceived himself, for this time he had nothing to fear from the monster of the ocean.

A living man, an Indian, as black as ink, shot through the water, doubtless an early fisher for pearls.

The bottom of his canoe could be seen up above, a few feet beyond his head.

Arriving at the bottom, which was about five yards deep, he fell on his knees, let go the stone he had held between his feet to sink with more rapidity, and began to rake up the oysters from the bank with both hands.

A cord was around his waist, the other end being attached to his boat, and this he pulled at when he wanted to rise.

To his loins was attached a little bag, into which he put the oysters as fast as he could gather them.

The Indian did not see anyone, and if he had he would have been so alarmed at the strange spectacle of curious-looking beings walking at ease at the bottom of the sea that he would quickly have retired.

Several times he remounted and plunged again, not getting more than a dozen oysters at each dip.

It appeared as if he risked his life for very little return, as in a score of oysters he might not find a pearl worth having.

All at once, while on his knees, he made a gesture of terror, and seized his rope to ascend to the surface.

A gigantic mass appeared close to the wretched diver.

It was a huge shark, which advanced diagonally toward him, his terrible jaws open wide.

The Indian threw himself on one side and avoided the bite of the shark, but not the action of his tail.

Mont thought he heard the jaws snap, but he had not much time to think, as he saw the diver thrown down by a blow of the animal's tail and stretched upon the ground.

All this was done in a few seconds, and then the shark returned, lying upon his back, in order the better to bite and divide the Indian in halves.

Mont was about to rush forward to attempt to save the miserable wretch's life, when he was pushed rudely back by Captain Vindex.

In his hand he held a knife, and was evidently prepared to battle for his life against the shark.

The latter, just about to seize the Indian and snap him up, perceived his new adversary and, replacing himself upon his belly, directed himself rapidly toward him.

He waited coolly the attack of the shark, which was one of the largest of its species, and when it charged him, he stepped quickly aside and plunged his knife into its belly up to the hilt.

Then commenced a fearful combat.

The shark began to bleed dreadfully, tinging the sea in such a manner as to hide the two in a sea of blood.

As the water cleared a little, Mont saw the captain, caught by one of the creature's fins, stabbing at it as fast as he could, but not being able to give it a deathblow. The shark lashed the sea with fury, and almost prevented the professor and his friends from keeping their footing, though they were some distance off.

Neither the professor, Mont, nor Carl dared to go to the help of the captain, for it seemed as if the shark would bite them in two, and they lost their presence of mind for a time.

But Mont soon recovered, and then, catching Stump's harpoon, he darted forward to do his best.

With his teeth set, he precipitated himself toward the shark, and struck it a terrible blow in the flank.

Again the sea was saturated with blood.

The shark agitated the water with indescribable fury, for our hero had not missed his aim.

It was the death agony of the monster.

Stricken to the heart, he struggled gallantly, but was powerless for further evil.

As the immense creature was dying, Mont pulled the captain from under him, and at the same moment the Indian, coming to himself, detached the stone from his feet and shot upward.

Following the example of the pearl diver, the captain struck the ground with his heels, as did the others, and all were soon at the surface.

The Indian had regained his canoe, but he was lying at the bottom in a half-fainting condition.

Satisfying himself that the poor fellow would live, and was not seriously injured, the captain signaled to his companions to descend, leaving the Indian gazing at them with haggard eyes, thinking he had seen some supernatural beings.

Walking as fast as they could along the bottom of the sea, they came in time to the anchor of their boat, reascended to the surface, and, taking their seats, removed their head-cases with a feeling of relief.

The negroes immediately began to row back to the Searcher.

Captain Vindex was the first to speak.

"Thank you, my lad," he said, extending his hand to Mont.

"It's nothing," rejoined our hero bluntly; "you saved my life when we were wrecked, and I have now saved yours with my harpoon. We are equal now, and I owe you nothing."

A sickly smile sat on the captain's lips for a second, and that was all.

"Lay to it!" he cried to his men. "Pull to the Searcher."

At half-past eight in the morning they were again on board of the ship, having been absent a little more than three hours.

To Mont the captain was more difficult to understand than ever.

He had risked his own life to save that of a poor Indian whom he had never seen before, and was never likely to see again.

This showed that he could not have a bad heart.

His heart was not entirely dead, whatever his faults might be.

As if the captain guessed Mont's thoughts, he observed to him at the bottom of the staircase on board the ship:

"That Indian belonged to an oppressed race. I also am one of the oppressed, and to my last breath I shall continue to be so. You recognize now the bond of union between us?"

XXVI. THROUGH THE EARTH

The ship again continued her way, traveling toward the Persian Gulf.

If Captain Vindex wanted to visit Europe, it was clear that he would have to go around the Cape of Good Hope, but that did not appear to be his design.

He went direct to the Red Sea, and, as the Isthmus of Suez was not then pierced by a canal, there was no outlet to the Mediterranean.

This puzzled the professor very much.

One morning the captain sought his prisoners, and said to the professor:

"To-morrow we shall be in the Mediterranean."

Mr. Woddle looked at him with astonishment.

"Does that surprise you?" he continued, with a smile.

"Certainly it does, though I thought I had given up being astonished since I have been on board your ship."

"You are a man of science; why should you be astonished?"

"Because you must travel with the speed of lightning almost to East Africa and round the Cape of Good Hope."

"I did not say I was going to do so," replied the captain.

"You can't go overland, since there is no canal through the Isthmus of Suez——"

"But one can go under land," interrupted the captain.

"Under land," answered the professor, holding up his hand.

"Undoubtedly," said Captain Vindex calmly. "For a long while nature has made underneath this tongue of land what men are trying to do now on the surface."

"Does there exist a passage?"

"Yes, a passage or tunnel, which at fifty feet depth touches a solid rock."

"How did you discover it—by chance?"

"No," said the captain. "I guessed that such a tunnel existed, and I have been through it several times."

"Well," said the professor, "we live to learn. Our fathers never dreamed of gas, of railways, of telegraphs, and I did not suspect the existence of your wonderful ship."

"Shortly, my dear sir," said the captain, "your children—that is to say, the next generation—will travel through the air in flying machines; your railway engines will own electricity as their motive power. There is no end to scientific discovery; the world is in its infancy. We are just emerging from barbarism. Wait and watch, that's my motto. You must not be surprised at anything in these days."

"You are right—we are on the march," said the professor.

The day passed, and at half-past nine the Searcher rose to the surface to receive her supply of air.

Nothing disturbed the silence but the cry of the pelican and other birds of the night, with the occasional sound of the escaping steam of a steamer traveling toward the Far East.

Mont could not rest below, and at once ascended to the platform to breath the fresh air. In the darkness he saw a pale light, discolored by the fog, which burned about a mile off.

"A lighthouse," he said.

The captain was by his side, and quietly replied:

"It is the floating lightship of Suez."

"We are near the mouth of the tunnel, I suppose? Is the entrance easy?"

"No," said Captain Vindex, "it is difficult. I always steer the ship myself, and if you like to come into the wheelhouse with me I will show you the way. In a moment the Searcher will sink, and we shall not rise till we are in the Mediterranean."

Mont followed the captain into the pilot's cabin, which was at the bow of the vessel, the wheel working the rudder by long chains carried aft.

The cabin measured six feet square, four round windows of thick plate-glass enabled the helmsman to see on all sides, and the electric light, thrown well forward, made everything as clear as day.

A strong negro, with an eye like a hawk, was at the wheel, but he gave the spokes to the captain and fell back.

"Now," exclaimed the Wizard of the Sea, "let us search for our passage."

Electric wires communicated with the engine room, so it was easy to communicate directly with the engineers by pressing a knob of metal.

Touching this knob, the speed of the screw lessened considerably.

For about an hour the ship passed by a bank of sand, which was varied by rocks, on which Mont saw all kinds of sea weeds, coral formations, and curious fish agitating their fins in alarm at the apparition of the Searcher.

At half-past ten a long and large gallery appeared in front, black and apparently deep.

The ship entered this gloomy tunnel boldly, and an unaccustomed rushing sound made itself heard against the sides, which arose from the waters of the Red Sea rushing into the Mediterranean.

Following the current with the speed of an arrow, the ship made its way, though the engines were reversed and the screw went backward to abate the velocity of its progress.

A single false turn of the wheel, and the Searcher would have been dashed to atoms against the ironlike rocks on each side, above, and below.

Mont held his breath.

He could see nothing but the foaming waters, made transparent by the electric light.

Half an hour later the captain gave up the helm to the negro, and, turning to our hero, exclaimed:

"We are in the Mediterranean."

In less than half an hour the ship, carried by the current, had traversed the Isthmus of Suez.

The next morning they came to the surface, and were able to breathe the fresh air again.

Stump was in high spirits when he found that they were near civilization again, because he thought they had a chance of escaping, and this idea was always uppermost in his mind.

He spoke to his companions about it, and they all agreed to follow him if a good opportunity offered.

XXVII. THE ESCAPE—CONCLUSION

The ship traveled leisurely along the Mediterranean, often rising in sight of land and lying like a log upon the water.

In the evening it was the custom of the prisoners to play at checkers, dominoes, or some game they liked; and after the fourth day in the Mediterranean, Stump, instead of putting the games on the table, shut the door, and, in a mysterious way, exclaimed:

"I've squared the nigger!"

"Which?" asked Mont.

"Number One. He as waits upon us. His real name's Smunko. I've found that out. Me and he's firm friends. I've told him I want to bolt, and he says he shan't let on to the skipper, or any of them, though they are all a lot of spies."

"Perhaps he's one, too," observed the professor, smiling.

"Not he, sir," answered the boy; "Smunko's right enough. He's going to keep all the other chaps quiet, some dark night, when we are near the land. Then we are to go on the platform and swim for our lives."

"A very good arrangement, if it can be carried out," remarked the professor. "But I fear your friend Smunko is not to be depended upon."

Stump was indignant.

"The fact is," went on the professor, "I don't want to discourage the lad, but I have no wish that he should do anything rash, and involve us in a mess. The captain might doom us to solitary confinement. At present we are treated liberally, if we are prisoners."

"All right, sir," replied Stump, "I'll turn it up as far as you are concerned. If Master Mont likes to come with me, all well and good; if not he can let it alone. I know my game, and I mean to stick to it."

"Don't show your nasty temper, Stump," said our hero.

"Aint being cooped up here like a turkey in a pen, fatting for Christmas, enough to rile a bishop?" asked the boy. "But I shan't say no more. When all's ready I'll give you one more chance, and if you aint with me, I'm off alone."

It was impossible to check Stump's will. The only one who had any influence over him was Mont.

He was a boy rudely brought up, unaccustomed to control his passions, and having a decided character, but to our hero he was deeply attached.

The next day the ship floated near an island, which the professor declared to be the Isle of Cyprus.

In the evening Stump whispered to Mont:

"Now, sir, all's ready. Smunko's piping off the other blacks; we're not a quarter of a mile from the land."

Mont's heart beat high.

"Tell the others," he said.

"No; let you and I go together."

"I can't leave Carl, and the professor is one of us."

In this Mont was firm.

He would not leave the Searcher without Carl and the professor.

So the two were told that all was ready.

"Come on, now," said Mont. "We must not lose our chance."

With the valuable pearls they had secured in the Indian Ocean in their pockets, the others followed Mont to the deck.

All hearts beat loudly.

"There is a boat!" whispered Carl. "Come on."

He dropped into the sea, and the others did the same.

Not far away floated a log, and to this they clung.

They paddled with their hands, and were soon some distance away from the submarine monster.

Then they cried for help.

The boat they had seen came in their direction.

They were seen, and the natives from the island let out a shout.

Then suddenly Captain Vindex appeared on the deck of the Searcher.

He shook his fist at the party.

Stump laughed at him; the others waved him off.

"She is going down!" cried Mont. "Quick, pull for the shore, before you are wrecked!"

The natives did not like the looks of the strange submarine ship, and they pulled with all strength.

By the agitation in the water the party knew the Searcher was after them.

But the shore was gained, and they were safe.

Then came a fearful shock.

In his eagerness to catch them Captain Vindex had allowed the Searcher to run into the rocks.

The submarine craft shot out of the water, and then——

Bang! Boom! Crash!

It was as if heaven and earth were splitting in twain.

The whole island shook, and all in the boat fell flat.

The Searcher had been blown to atoms.

The air was filled with flying bits of iron and steel.

Of course all on board were instantly killed.

It was a long while before Mont and his companions recovered.

"Out of it at last, thank Heaven!" murmured Professor Woddle, and all said "Amen."

A month later the little party returned to the United States.

Mont's widowed mother was overjoyed to see him alive, and Carl's parents were equally elated, and so were the many friends at Nautical Hall.

The pearls were equally divided, and to-day all of the party are rich men.

"But I wouldn't take another such trip," says Mont. "No, not to pick up all the hidden treasures of the ocean. After this I'm going to remain at Nautical Hall and take the balance of my sea training on land. I've had all I want of such submarine ships as the Searcher, and such mysterious men as was the Wizard of the Sea."

THE END

JACK NORTH'S TREASURE HUNT

or

Daring Adventures in South America

Contents

I. A Chance for a Position

II. The Test of Strength

III. A Long Trip Proposed

IV. Just in Time

V. On the Island of Robinson Crusoe

VI. A Terrible Mistake

VII. A Plea of the Enemy

VIII. The Lonely Pimento

IX. Jack Becomes an Engineer

X. A Narrow Escape

XI. Under the Head of a Jaguar

XII. Put to the Test

XIII. Precious Moments

XIV. The Attack on the Train

XV. The Treasure Island

XVI. At the Boiling Lake

XVII. In the Nitrate Fields

XVIII. An Alarm of Fire

XIX. Chilians on Both Sides

XX. Preparations for Departure

XXI. A Panic on Shipboard

XXII. The Fate of Plum Plucky

XXIII. Jenny

XXIV. Jack and the Ocelot

XXV. In the Quicksands

XXVI. A Night in the Jungle

XXVII. Jack and the Big Snake

XXVIII. Back from the Dead

XXIX. The Treasure of the Boiling Lake

XXX. A Ride for Life—Conclusion

I. A Chance for a Position

“Where are you going, Jack?”

“To the shops of John Fowler & Company.”

“To look for a job?”

“Yes.”

“Then you are in luck, for I heard this morning that they want another striker in the lower shop at once.”

“Then I’ll strike for the opening at once, and my name is not Jack North if I don’t land it.”

“It will be John Slowshanks when you do get it, mind me!” cried out another voice, from an alley-way near at hand, and before Jack North or his companion could recover from their surprise the speaker, a tall, awkward youth of twenty, sped up the street at the top of his speed.

The scene was in Bauton, a large manufacturing city of New England. The first speaker was a workman at the shops that had been mentioned, but beyond the fact that he placed the youth before him in the way of getting work, he needs no special introduction.

The other person was a lad of eighteen, with brown, curly hair, blue eyes, and a round, robust figure. His name was John North, and he was the son of a couple in humble circumstances.

“Take care!” cried the man, “that sneak will get in ahead of you, and then a snap of your little finger for your chance of getting the job at Fowler’s.”

Jack North did not stop to hear his friend through. He was very much in need of a situation, and he knew the young man who had rushed in ahead of him as a bitter enemy. That fact, coupled with his desire to get work, caused him to dash up the street as fast as he could run.

Naturally the appearance of the two running at such a headlong pace aroused the attention of the passers-by, all of whom stopped to see what it meant. Others rushed out of their houses, offices or workshops to ascertain the meaning of the race, until the street was lined with excited, anxious men, women and children.

“Is it fire?” asked an old, gray-headed man, and another, catching only the sound of the last word, repeated it and thus a wild alarm was quickly spread.

Meanwhile Jack North had found that he could not overtake his rival. He was not a fleet runner, while the other had gotten a start of him, which he could not hope to make up.

But he was too fertile in his resources to despair. In fact he was never known to give up a contest which he had once fairly entered. This persistence in whatever he undertook was the secret of Jack North’s wonderful success amid environments which must have discouraged less courageous hearts.

Still it looked to his enemy, as the latter glanced back to see him leisurely turn into a side street leading away from their destination, that he had nothing further to fear from him.

“Thought you would be glad to give in,” cried out the delighted seeker of the situation at the engine shops, and believing that he had nothing further to fear, the awkward youth slackened his gait to a walk.

Though Jack turned into the alley at a moderate pace, as soon as he had gone a short distance, he started again into a smart run.

“I shall have farther to go,” he thought, “but Fret Offut will think I have given up, and thus he will let me get in ahead of him.”

This seemed the truth, when, at last, Jack came in sight of the low-walled and scattering buildings belonging to John Fowler & Co., engine builders.

Fret Offut was nowhere in sight, as Jack entered the dark, dingy office at the lower end of the buildings.

A small sized man, with mutton chop side whiskers, engaged in overhauling a pile of musty papers, looked up at the entrance of our hero.

“Want a job as striker, eh?” he asked, as Jack stated his errand. “I believe Henshaw does want another man. I will call him. What is your name?”

“Alfret Offut, sir. It’s me that wants the job, and it’s me it belongs to.”

It was Jack North’s enemy who spoke, as he paused on the threshold panting for breath, while glaring at our hero with a baleful look.

“How come you here?” he demanded of Jack, a second later.

“My feet brought me here, and with less slowness than yours, judging by your appearance,” replied young North.

With the arrival of the second person on the scene, the clerk had turned away to find Henshaw, and while he was gone the rival youths stood glaring upon each other.

After a short time a big, red-faced, soot-be-grimed man appeared, saying as he reached them:

“If Offut will come this way I will talk with him.”

“Henshaw,” said the clerk simply, returning to his work, leaving the newcomer to attend to the visitors as he thought best.

“Ha—ha!” laughed young Offut, softly, as he followed the foreman, “where are you now, Jack North?”

Though Jack gave slight token of his feelings, he was more vexed at this usurpation of his rights than he cared to show. He lost no time in starting after the others in the direction of the shop. “I’m going on twenty-one,” Offut said, as they stopped at the door, “and there ain’t a chap as can outlift me.”

“Beg your pardon, Mr. Henshaw,” said Jack, brushing up, “but it’s I who am after the job and to whom it belongs. Mr. Jacobs—”

“Is your name Alfret Offut?” interrupted the other youth sharply in the midst of Jack’s speech. “I reckon Henshaw knows who he is talking to.” “It was me Mr. Jacobs recommended the place to, and you are trying to steal it from me,” cried Jack. “You are telling a likely story, Jack North, and if you say another word I’ll hit you. Henshaw called for me, and it’s me he’s going to give work.”

Mr. Henshaw, who for the first time seemed to realize the situation, looked surprised, as he gazed from one to the other.

Disliking to raise a fuss Jack remained silent at first, but he felt bound to say:

“I was first at the office, and I claim—” “You’d claim the earth, as far as that is concerned, you miserable chick of nobody!” broke in Offut.

The last was more than Jack could stand, and stepping quickly forward, he cried: “Stop, Fret Offut! you have said enough. I don’t want any quarrel with you, but I am as good as you.”

“Are yer?” demanded the fiery Offut, whose greatest delight seemed to be in provoking a quarrel. “I can lick you out of your boots, and I will do it before I will let you get in here.” By this time Mr. Henshaw, a rather rough man, as slow as he was of comprehension, was interested in the dispute, and not averse to encouraging sport of the kind, he said:

“That’s it, boys; fight it out. I’ll hire the lad that downs the other.”

“Then the job is as good as mine!” cried Fret Offut, rushing at Jack with great bluster and no regard to fairness.

II. The Test of Strength

If taken unawares, Jack North did not allow his enemy to get very much the advantage of him. As the other rushed forward, expecting to overpower him by sheer force, he met him squarely in a hand-to-hand struggle for the mastery.

Mr. Henshaw seemed delighted, and he cried out:

“Limber up, lads, limber up! A job to him that comes out on top! Hi, there!”

Sundry other exclamations came from the excited foreman at every change of the situation, while several spectators, attracted to the place by the out-cries, gathered about the young contestants, lending their voices to the confusing sounds of the scene.

While Fret Offut was taller and larger than Jack North, he lacked the latter’s firm-set muscles, and what was of even greater account, his unflinching determination to win. Our hero never knew what it was to possess a faint heart, and that is more than half the battle every time.

Thus when young Offut crowded him back against the wall of the building, and every one present felt sure he must be overpowered, Jack set his lips more firmly together and renewed his resistance with redoubled effort.

Then, as he struck his foot against a piece of scrap iron and reeled backward in spite of all he could, his friends groaned, while Fret Offut cried, exultantly:

“Ho, my fine cub, down you go this time! Henshaw—”

But Mr. Henshaw never knew what was to be said to him, neither did the young bully ever realize fully just what followed.

Jack, concentrating all the strength he possessed, rallied. He threw out his right foot in such a way as to catch his antagonist behind his left knee, when the latter suddenly found himself sinking. At the same time the grasp on his collar tightened, while with almost superhuman power he was flung backward. With such force did Jack handle his adversary that he sent him flying several yards away, where he fell in a pool of dark, slimy water.

The spectators cheered heartily, while Mr. Henshaw clapped his grimy hands and shouted at the top of his voice:

“Well done, my hearty! That’s a handsome trick and well worth a job.”

Fret Offut arose from his unwelcome bath, dripping from head to foot with the nasty mess, presenting a most unprepossessing appearance.

The foreman was turning back into the shop, followed by Jack, and the crowd was rapidly dispersing.

“Hold on!” he bawled, “that wasn’t fair. I tripped—stop, Henshaw! don’t let my job go to that miserable thief.”

Getting no reply to his foolish speech, Offut followed the others into the shop. His appearance being so ridiculous he was greeted with cries of derision from the workmen, which only made him the more angry and belligerent.

“I’ll get even with you for this, Jack North!” he cried, “if I follow you to the end! My father always said your family was the meanest on earth, and now I know it is so. But you shall hear from me again.”

With these bitter words the defeated youth, who really had no one to blame but himself for his ill-feeling, disappeared, though it was not to be long before he was to reappear in the stirring life of Jack North, and bring him such troubles as he could not have foreseen.

It proved that Mr. Henshaw was anxious for another workman, and after asking Jack a few questions, told the lad he might begin his task at once.

The pay was small, less than five dollars a week, but Jack did not let that cause him to refuse the opportunity. He needed the money, for his folks were in poor circumstances, and he went about his work with a stout heart.

He quickly proved an adept workman, observing, rapid to learn and always diligent, so much so that the foreman took a strong liking to him.

Several days passed and it became evident to Jack that if he had left one enemy outside the shop, he had another within, who was ready to improve every opportunity to trouble him. This was a small, thinfaced man who worked with him, and whose name was Mires. Besides being physically unable to carry an even end with him, this workman was prone to shirk every part of his work that he could, this portion falling largely on Jack to do in addition to his own.

Jack paid no heed to this, however, but kept about his work as if everything was all right, until a little incident occurred which completely changed the aspect of affairs.

Unknown to our hero, there had been a practice of long standing among the workmen of “testing” every new hand that came in, by playing what was believed to be a smart trick upon him. The joke consisted in sending the new hand in company with a fellow workman to bring from a distant part of the shop a pair of wheels, one of which was of iron and weighed over four hundred pounds, while its mate was made of wood and finished off to look exactly like its companion. The workman in the secret always looked out and got hold of the wooden wheel, which he could carry off with ease, while his duped associate would struggle over the other to the unbounded amusement of the lookers-on.

It heightened the effect by selecting a small, weak man to help in the deception, and Henshaw, liking this joke no less than his men, on the third day of Jack’s apprenticeship, said:

“North, you and Mires bring along them wheels at the lower end. Don’t be all day about it either,” speaking with unusual sharpness.

“Yes, sir.”

In a moment every one present was watching the scene, beginning to smile as they saw Mires start with suspicious alacrity toward the wheels. Some of the men, in order to get as good a view as possible of the expected exhibition, stationed themselves near at hand, having hard work to suppress their merriment in advance.

“Purty stout, air ye?” asked Mires, as he and Jack stood by the wheels.

“I never boasted of my strength,” replied Jack, beginning to wonder why so much interest was being manifested over so slight a matter. His surprise was increased at that moment by discovering Fret Offut among the spectators, his big mouth reaching almost from ear to ear with an idiotic grin.

“Come to see the fun!” declared the latter, finding that he had been seen by Jack.

“I’ll take this one,” said Mires, stooping over the nearest wheel which was half buried in dust and dirt.

Then, without any apparent effort, the small sized workman raised the wheel to his shoulder and walked back from the direction whence they had come.

“Now see the big gawk lift his!” exclaimed Fret Offut, who had somehow been let into the secret. Still ignorant of the deception being played upon him, Jack North bent over to lift the remaining wheel.

III. A Long Trip Proposed

Having seen Mires carry off the other wheel with comparative ease, Jack naturally expected to lift the remaining one without trouble.

His amazement may be therefore understood when, at his first effort, he failed to move it an inch from the floor.

It lay there as solid as if bound down!

His failure was the signal for Fret Offut to break out into a loud laugh, which was instantly caught up by the workmen, until the whole building rang with the merriment.

“Baby!” some one cried. “See Mires carry his. North ain’t got the strength of a mouse!”

By that time Mires had reached the opposite end of the shop, and was putting down his burden to turn and join in the outbursts over the discomfiture of his young companion.

Jack had now awakened to the realization that he had been the easy victim of a scheme to cast ridicule upon him.

Mires could never have carried away this wheel. The thought of the trick which had been played upon him aroused all the latent energy he possessed. He did not believe the wheel could weigh five hundred pounds, and if it did not he would lift it, as he believed he could.

Thus, with the shouts and laughter of the spectators ringing in his ears, Jack stooped for a second attempt to accomplish what no one else had ever been able to do.

“I’ll grunt for you!” called Offut in derision. “Spit on your hands!” said a workman. Jack compressed his lips for a mighty effort, and his hands closed on the rim of the wheel, while he concentrated every atom of strength he had for the herculean task.

The cries of the onlookers suddenly stopped as they saw, to their amazement, the ponderous object rise from the floor, slowly but surely, until the young workman held it abreast of him. Not a sound broke the deathlike stillness, save for the crunching of his own footsteps, as Jack North walked across the shop and dropped his burden upon the wheel Mires had placed there.

A loud crash succeeded, the heavy iron wheel having broken the imitation into kindling wood and smashed into the floor.

The cries of derision were supplemented by loud calls of admiration, which rang through and through the old building until a perfect din prevailed.

Fret Offut waited to see no more, but stole away unobserved by the stalwart iron workers, who crowded around their victorious companion with hearty congratulations. Jack had won the friendship of nearly all by his feat, while Henshaw at once boasted of the act.

Mires, fancying that the laugh had been turned upon him, and he was about right, allowed all of the bitterness of his sullen nature to be turned against the young apprentice. In his wicked heart he vowed he would humiliate Jack in the eyes of his admirers in some way and at some time. But no opportunity came for him, as month after month passed.

Jack showed a wonderfully industrious nature, and he never seemed idle. When not at work he was studying some part of the ponderous machinery about him, as if anxious to learn all there was to be known about it. The knowledge he thus obtained was to be of inestimable value to him in the scenes to come.

This trait of his pleased Henshaw, who, if a rough man, was honest in his intentions, and he caused Jack’s wages to be raised to seven dollars a week. This was done in opposition to his assistant, who had taken a strange dislike to him. His reasons for this will become apparent as we proceed. About that time Jack was surprised to find that Fret Offut had found employment in the building, though it was more as a helper than as a regular workman, his chief task being to wheel the scraps of iron and waste material away and to wait upon the boss of the big steam hammer.

He did not offer to speak to Jack, but the latter soon saw him holding whispered conversations with Mires and the second boss, Furniss, when he felt certain by their looks and motions that he was the subject of their remarks. Once he overheard Offut tell a companion:

“I sha’n’t wheel scrap iron always and Jack North won’t be boss, either.”

Jack had been at the engine works about six months, when he accidentally learned that the company were planning to ship one of their machines to South America, and that they were looking about for a suitable person to send with it, to help unload it properly and set it up. A few days later, as he was leaving the shop to go home, Henshaw came to him, saying:

“Let me put a flea in your ear, Jack. John Fowler has got his eye on you for the one to go to South America.”

Scarcely any other announcement could have brought greater joy to Jack, for he had a great desire to travel, and this long journey would take him away from home for many months, he felt it would be a grand opportunity. But he knew that Furniss had been working for the place, and he could not realize that such good fortune was to fall to him, so he said to Henshaw:

“I thought that Furniss was sure of the chance. I heard him say as much only yesterday.” “A fig for Furniss! Old John had a long talk with me this morning, and I told him you were just the chap for the place, young and capable. He nodded his head and I could see that you were as good as taken. Of course we shall miss you, but it’s a trip a youngster like you can’t afford to miss.”

“I should like to go, Mr. Henshaw, and I thank you for your kind words.”

“Don’t cost nothing,” returned the bluff foreman, as he started homeward.

Jack was too happy over his prospects to mind the baleful looks of Furniss the next day, or to hear the jibes of Fret Offut. Could he have foreseen the startling result he must have been bound with dismay.

The following Monday, when the day’s work was done and he was leaving the shop, Mr. Henshaw came along, and slapping him on the shoulder, said: “Let me congratulate you, my lad. It is just as I said; you are going to South America,—if you will.”

“It seems too good to be true, Mr. Henshaw.” “It’s the blessed truth and I know it I don’t blame you for feeling well over such an appointment, for it is something any of us might be glad of. But you deserve it.”

The appearance of Furniss checked Jack’s reply. He could see the other understood that he had lost. He had another proof of the fact before he got home from Fret Offut, who said:

“Feel mighty stuck up, don’t yer? But let me tell yer,’twon’t do any good.”

This was the first time he had spoken to Jack since he had begun work in the shops, and our hero made no reply.

The following day, as he was about to leave the shop at the close of his work, Jack was accosted by Furniss, who asked him to assist him a moment at the big hammer.

Jack started at once to his help, noticing that the building was completely deserted at the time, except for the second boss and himself; even Henshaw, who generally stayed until after the workmen had left, was gone.

His surprise may be imagined then when he saw Fret Offut step from behind a huge boiler as he approached. Still he did not dream of any sinister purpose in the minds of the two, and he was about to stoop to lift a piece of iron at the request of Furniss, when he discovered a bar of iron so suspended over his head from the cross timber that a slight movement on his part was sure to bring it down upon his head.

No sooner had he seen his precarious situation than he started back, when Fret Offut flung a heavy slug at his feet. The effect was startling, for the concussion on the floor sent the menacing bar overhead downward with fearful force.

Jack succeeded in dodging the blow so far that he escaped the full weight of the falling iron, which struck the floor endwise with a heavy thud. But before he could get beyond its reach the massive bar tipped over, falling in such way as to strike him in the side of the head, and felling him senseless to the floor.

In a moment Furniss and Offut were bending over him with anxious looks on their grimy countenances.

“Is he killed?” asked the younger of the twain.

Jack answered the question himself by opening his eyes, though he was still too bewildered to attempt to rise.

“What did you do that for?” he demanded.

“Do what?” questioned Fret Offut. “You know well enough. You fixed that bar so it would hit me.”

“Hear the boy talk!” came from Furniss. “It is true. If I get the chance—”

“Stop, you shan’t get us into trouble,” yelled the man, in a rage.

“Not much,” put in Offut. “Let’s teach him a lesson he won’t forget!”

“So we will,” answered Furniss; and both started forward to attack Jack.

IV. Just In Time

Though still somewhat dazed by the blow on his head, Jack realized that the unprincipled twain in their desperation would stop short of no crime in order to carry out their purpose.

Thus Furniss had barely laid his hand on him before he was on his feet ready to fight for his life if necessary.

Flinging aside the second boss, he turned to meet the assault of Fret Offut, whom he caught by the collar and flung headlong upon a pile of scrap iron and ashes still warm from the furnace.

Shrieking with pain the big youth scrambled to his feet and began to dance around as if he had a coal of fire in the heel of his shoe.

Furniss rallied to grapple anew with Jack, but though a strong man he found his match. Used to hard work all of his life, Jack’s sinews seemed like bands of steel and there was no breaking from his grasp.

“Help, Offut—quick!” cried Furniss, as his head was jabbed into the midst of a box of coal. “He—he’ll kill me!” spluttered the discomfited man.

But Fret Offut failed for good reasons to heed the supplications of his friend.

The next instant Furniss managed to get a hold on Jack which enabled him to throw him upon the floor.

“Go to South America, will you?” cried the exultant Furniss. “Let that settle it,” and he aimed a furious blow at his victim’s head.

But Jack was too nimble to remain still and receive whatever attack the other might rain upon him, and when Furniss’ fist descended it missed its mark, to strike plump upon the sharp edge of a bar of iron, peeling the skin on its back from knuckle to wrist.

At the same time Jack turned his adversary and, clearing him, vaulted to his feet, carrying the other backwards by the impetuous movement and sending him headfirst into a bucket of water.

Before he could rise Jack had caught him by the throat with one hand, and he immediately began to “churn” the other’s head up and down in the black water, while the discomfited wretch, trying in vain to break away, exclaimed in gasps:

“Help—don’t—you’ll kill me! I—Of—ut—h-e-l-p—murder!”

“Will you promise to let me alone after this?” demanded Jack, giving his victim another plunge in the bucket.

“Yes. Let me go or I’ll tell Fowler. Oh—oh!”

“Tell Fowler, will you?”

“No—no! Let me go!”

“You promise it?”

“Yes,” spluttered the man as soon as he could speak.

“I think that will be enough this time.” declared the triumphant Jack. “If I could get my hands on you, Fret Offut, I would give you a dose of the same medicine.”

“I ain’t done nothing!” cried the terrified youth. “Don’t you dare to touch me!” and by that time he had reached the door, to disappear an instant later.

Feeling that he had nothing more to fear from his enemies, Jack left the shop to go to his home, his mind soon occupied with thoughts of his South American voyage rather than with the more unpleasant memory of his recent trouble with young Offut and Furniss.

Before going direct to his home to tell the news there, Jack sought another home that he might first break the account of his good fortune to one whose fair countenance had been in his mind’s eye all the afternoon.

He knew the hardest part of his starting on his long voyage would be in tearing himself away from a certain blue-eyed damsel named Jenny Moodhead.

At her home he was met by the girl’s mother, who, in answer to his inquiries for Jenny, said:

“Jane is not here, and I do not see why you have not met her, as she said she was going to see you as you came from the shops. I am afraid something has happened to her.”

Without further loss of time, Jack started to retrace the way to the engine shops, though going by a different course from that which he had come.

He had got about half way there, and was passing near an old ruined mill, which stood more than half over the river, when he was startled by the sound of a voice, which was too familiar for him not to recognize.

“Don’t you dare come any nearer, Fret Offut! Stand back, or the worst will be your own!”

It was Jenny speaking, and as Jack dashed down to the side of the old mill he discovered her at the further extremity of the ruins defiantly facing young Offut, who was kept from approaching any nearer to her by a club she held in her hands, uplifted over her head.

Between the two was a gulf of dark waters a dozen feet or more in width, but spanned by a plank over which the girl had evidently passed in reaching her place of retreat.

“I’ll take up the plank so you can’t come back!” declared young Offut. “You see if you do not answer me in a becoming manner I can—”

Fret Offut did not have the opportunity to finish his sentence before a stout hand was laid on his shoulder and he was plunged headfirst into the river. “Get out the best you can!” cried Jack North.

He turned to the girl. “Has he dared so much as to lay a ringer on you, Jenny?”

“Oh, Jack! I am so glad to see you! No, he had not touched me, though I don’t know what he might have done if you had not come. You won’t let him drown?”

“It would serve him about right, if I did. But he will take care of himself. See, he is crawling out below the mill. Come with me, Jenny, for I have important news to tell you. I am going to South America!”

“To South America! Oh, Jack, why?”

“The firm want me to go, and they will pay me well for my services. I am to look after some machinery that is to be shipped.”

“But you will come back?” questioned Jenny, anxiously.

“Sure, as soon as my task is done. But now tell me about Fret Offut.”

“Oh, there is not much to tell. He—he wanted to be sweet on me and—and I wouldn’t have it. That made him angry, and he followed me to this place, and—you saw the rest.”

“I hope he won’t bother you again.”

“I don’t think he will,” said Jenny. “Anyway, I’ll keep my eyes open for him.”

After that Jack spent a pleasant hour in the company of the girl who was his dearest friend, and then went home to prepare for his trip of so many thousand miles.

His parents already knew something about the proposed journey, so they were not much surprised. They had seen Mr. Fowler and talked it over with the manufacturer. Mrs. North did what she could to get Jack’s outfit ready for him.

“I’ll be glad to leave such fellows as Fret Offut behind,” said Jack, to his father.

“Fret Offut is a bully and a fool,” said Mr. North, who was a blunt-spoken man. “He will never get along in life.”

Jack had spoken without knowing the truth. He was not to get rid of Fret Offut just yet, as we shall soon see.

V. On the Island of Robinson Crusoe

Ho! for South America!

Bravely did the good steamer Standish keep on her long, and, at times, stormy voyage to the far distant shore of Western South America. She escaped the severest storms of the Northern Atlantic, Grossed the equatorial line in fine shape, and stemmed the farious wrath of Cape Horn in safety. But every one on board felt freer and in better spirits, when at last they entered the Pacific regions where storms are of rare occurrence.

The steamer’s destination was Valparaiso, Chili, and the commander talked of getting into port shortly.

Among those looking most hopefully forward to the termination of the voyage was our hero, who had been sent by his employers on the responsible errand of seeing that one of their engines was properly delivered and put into good running order. He fondly believed it was the great opportunity of his life.

He was never more surprised than he was upon finding at the last moment that Fret Offut had been delegated to accompany him as helper.

At first he could not believe it; but there the awkward youth was, and that he was sent for that purpose was plainly indicated by the order from John Fowler & Co.

To his still greater surprise, the other seemed to have forgotten or overlooked their differences, and he greeted Jack with all the warmth of an old friend.

“If he can afford to be friendly I can,” thought Jack, who was not a person to cherish long any bitterness of feeling against another, and he resolved to treat Fret as well as possible.

This, coupled with that bond of sympathy for an associate one is sure to have on leaving those dear to him far behind, made the two seem somewhat like friends.

Had Jack known the truth, known the frequent and long conversations his deceitful companion had held with the plotting Furniss, and how the latter had worked to get Offut sent on this voyage with him, our hero would have felt different toward the other. The second boss’s parting words had been: “Remember you owe this opportunity to me, Fret Offut, who might have gone but for my willingness to let you. Don’t forget either that if, for any reason, North does not get to Valparaiso you will step into his place, and gain the honor he is anxious to get.”

This was spoken with such signs and indications as only one in the secret could understand, and young Offut nodded knowingly, as much as to say:

“I understand perfectly, and will not fail in my part to gain our ends.”

It may have been that the looked-for opportunity did not come, as he had expected, or that his courage failed him in his cowardly purpose, for no harm befel Jack until on the evening before the day, which, if nothing unfavorable occurred, the commander had promised would bring them within sight of land. Jack stood by the quarter-rail a long time watching the sun sink into the distant water, and then the silent coming of the stars into the firmament overhead.

It was a beautiful evening, though fleecy clouds were beginning to fringe the horizon, and he was certain the whole sky would be obscured soon.

But his mind was more engrossed with thoughts of his parents and Jenny at home than with the calm grandeur of a tropical sea, and he was wondering how many months must pass before he should be able to meet her, when the sound of a cat-like step behind him arrested his attention.

Thinking of no harm, he turned slowly to greet the one approaching, to find himself confronted by the tall figure of Fret Offut.

A look of wild fierceness was on the other’s features, and before Jack could speak his arms were uplifted, swinging overhead a belaying pin.

Reading at a glance Offut’s horrible purpose, Jack attempted to seize his upraised hands, but he had barely made a move before the weapon descended upon him!

With an indistinct recollection of a dull sense of pain in his head, Jack knew no more until he was brought back to consciousness by the feeling of water around him and it slowly dawned upon him that he had been sent overboard from the ship into the sea by the blow from Fret Offut.

It was too dark for him to see any distance, so he listened for some sound of the steamer.

Once he thought he caught the regular swish, swish of the big wheel; but he must have been mistaken, for after a moment he realized that the Standish was not within hearing.

He had begun to shout for help, and this shouting he kept up until he was hoarse, and he felt that it would be better to save all of his strength in the great battle for life ahead.

No one, who has not been there, can know the utter hoplessness of being castaway upon the great, boundless ocean with not even a plank to keep him from a watery grave.

Jack North was brave and sanguine, but for a time he felt that it was useless for him to try and keep up. Then the thought of home and loved ones, with all the bright dreams and hopes of life, gave him the resolution to fight for victory over defeat until the very last. He had heard of sailors who had been cast away, and who had managed to keep afloat a whole night and day. Might not he keep from drowning until morning?

At any rate he would not give up while he had the strength to struggle against fate.

Buoyed up with hopes which he knew were groundless, he swam on and on through the dark expanse of waters girdling him.

When he had gone as far as he deemed prudent he would turn upon his back and thus float upon the bosom of the great deep, borne by its ceaseless tide he knew not whither.

Perhaps he was being carried further and further out to sea, or it might be he was slowly approaching the shore of the southern continent.

That was the longest, most gloomy night Jack North ever knew. He saw nor heard nothing of the steamer during the long hours of darkness and desolation.

With the first faint streak of daylight he scanned the surrounding sea with anxious, eager gaze. But whither he would look, north, south, east or west, not an object broke the monotony of the view.

He felt that he was hopelessly lost, and he wondered in his despair if his true fate would be known.

As it grew lighter he continued to watch the sea for some welcome sight, until he saw, away on his left, a dark rim on the horizon. Was it a cloud or—land?

He dared not hope it was the latter at first, but as it grew plainer he felt a thrill of joy pass through his worn-out frame.

“Land!” he cried, coming near drowning in the exuberance of his new-found discovery.

Even after he had seen land it seemed he was doomed to disappointment.

It did not appear that he had strength to reach it. Still the prospect ahead served to give power to his weary limbs and a new lease of endurance to his overworked body.

As he swam nearer he saw that great pointed peaks pierced the sky wherever he looked, while abrupt walls of rock rose from the water’s edge to the height of many hundred feet.

These he realized could not be scaled by him, and as he gazed on the gray, moss-covered rocks dripping with the spray of the ocean that continually beat against their rugged sides, hopelessness again came near overpowering him.

Above the granite front of this lonely island, as he believed it to be, he could see stupendous ridges of reddish earth rise in countless numbers and always running back toward the centre, with here and there green pastures of grass, but he looked in vain for a break in the adamantine barrier which made this ocean-bound realm unapproachable.

In his despair he was nearly overjoyed to suddenly see a boat, with two men in it, come around an angle of the rock-bound shore.

He shouted as loudly as he could in his exhausted state for help, and then gave up the battle, and sank.

But strong arms were near, and the boatmen, hearing his cries, rowed rapidly to his assistance and picked him up as he was going down for the last time.

When Jack recovered consciousness he found himself lying on a rude couch, with a friendly face looking into his and his hand held by the same person.

“Well, here you are,” said the man. “I had about given up looking for you to come out of it. You must have had a long, hard pull against the sea.”

“Where am I?” asked Jack. “Who are you?”

“You are on the island of Robinson Crusoe. As to myself, I am an American by the name of William Pearce. Before I shall ask you even your name I shall advise you to keep quiet and go to sleep if you can. You are among friends.”

Jack was fain to follow this well-meant advice, and a few minutes later he was sound asleep.

It was nearly night before he awoke, and even then his friend would not allow him to leave his couch.

“Here is a dish of goat’s milk and I will soon have some warm oat porridge.”

Jack felt stronger when he had partaken of the simple food offered him, but he was still too weak to move about very much, and in less than five minutes he was again asleep.

He did not awake until the following morning this time, when he found himself in pretty good condition.

His host being absent at the time, he had an opportunity to examine his surroundings. He found himself in a small hut built of the straw of wild oats, interwoven with long, slender sticks, while the roof was treated in the same way. Only a few rather primitive utensils of cooking and living were to be seen, and he was wondering what sort of a hermit he had fallen in with when the man entered.

He was past middle life, with a sunburned, bearded and honest countenance.

Upon seeing that Jack had awakened, his looks instantly brightened and he spoke cheerily:

“Glad to see you looking so well. You will be all right in a day or two.”

“Is it possible that I am on the island where Robinson Crusoe spent his lonely years?”

“It is so.”

“I can hardly believe it.”

“Nevertheless it is a fact.”

“If I ever get away from it I will read the story all over again.”

The man laughed.

“That’s natural.

“But do you live here alone?”

“Oh, no; there are six Chilian families here with me. But you are beating me at asking questions, for you have learned all there is to be learned of me, while I cannot name you from any descendant of old Adam.”

Without further delay Jack told his companion the story of his adventures.

VI. A Terrible Mistake

Jack found Robinson Crusoe’s island a pleasanter place than he had expected. Among the ridges were many pretty valleys which were covered with patches of woods or grass. Everything bore a peculiar hue of green, from the groves of myrtle, pimento and corkwood to the grassy plots, the natural fields of oats and even to the moss-covered rocks of the spinelike mountains.

The coast, as far as he could see, overhung the sea or rose perpendicular to such a height as to make it inaccessible, except at one place where a rent in the wall allowed man to enter the almost sacred domain.

The rude, picturesque huts of Mr. Pearce and his associates stood in a romantic valley, where the American told him had stood the “castle” of the Crusoe inhabitant of the island, Alexander Selkirk, whose strange story has been read the wide world over.

Jack had been at the island nearly a week, and he was looking forward to an opportunity to go to the mainland in a few days, when Mr. Pearce informed him that something singular had transpired during the night.

“Though no vessel is in sight this morning, I am sure some one landed here last night between midnight and daylight.”

“Do you think there is anything to fear from such a visit, providing some one has been here?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know. This island was used several years as a penal colony for Chili, but an earthquake so upset things that the one hundred and fifty odd prisoners escaped, and since that no one has been sent here. But it has been the refuge of two or three outlaws since, as if the place had a strange fascination for them. Perhaps they think it is a safe place to flee to after what has occurred here. I have had no trouble with them worth mentioning.”

“Do you think one came last night?”

“Looks like it. But I will find out before I am much older. I will get the Chilians to go with us and we will explore the cells.”

Jack was not kept in suspense long as to Mr. Pearce’s meaning.

Upon reaching the foot of a bluff about half a mile from the ruins of what looked like an old fort, but which was now embedded in banks of clay and overgrown with moss and rank weeds, he found that the whole structure had been built of stone.

“It was done by the Chilian government in 1767,” said Mr. Pearce, “and was undone by an earthquake in 1835. This you see here nearest was the front wall of the main rampart. But here is the greatest wonder in the hillside. This old building—fortress, as it might be truthfully called—was the abode of the officers and their men who were stationed here to watch and guard the island, while these other retreats which are marked by those black mouths were used for an altogether different purpose.”

Mr. Pearce pointed, as he spoke, to numerous dark openings in the side of the hill, there being many completely hidden by the rank ferns hanging in festoons at their entrance.

“It was in these pits, dug into the earth to the depth of two or three hundred feet, that the Chilian government confined their convicts, and where, if all reports be true, they underwent tortures that made life a living death. The earthquake tore down all the heavy doors, as if the elements were in league with the poor captives, every one of whom thus managed to escape.

“It is in these places the fugitives who seek this island for safety conceal themselves. We can find some sign at the mouth if any one has entered a cell since yesterday.”

He then led the way along the broken-down entrances of the underground excavations, now occupied by bats, toads and vermin, but where once miserable wrecks of manhood had found a terrible punishment for their crimes.

A wild goat sprang out from one of the cells and bounded away, but no trace of a human being was found, until at last Mr. Pearce stopped before one cell which was reached by descending several stone steps.

“This was one of the cells for exceptionally bad prisoners,” said Mr. Pearce. “It is not as deep as some of the others, but reeks with a cold sweat, and the air is so damp and chilly as to make one shiver the moment he enters. Just think of the poor wretches confined here, where no ray of sunlight could ever reach them, and no living soul to pity them in their hopeless despair! This does not run into the earth more than twenty-five feet. Your eyes are younger and sharper than mine; see if those are not fresh footprints.”

“They are,” replied Jack, as soon as he had made a hasty examination; “and I am sure they are made by an American shoe!”

“Whew!” exclaimed Mr. Pearce, “that makes it more mysterious, and it behooves us to move with great caution. One of us had better remain on the outside, while the other makes an exploration of the den. Which will you do?”

“I will go inside, if it makes no difference to you, only I wish you would let me have one of your pistols.”

“Of course, and you can take this knife, too. Move cautiously, for if there is an American run to earth in there, you may count on it that he will fight for his life. It will be different from facing one of those Chilians, who make a good deal of noise and but a little resistance.”

Jack promised to act with caution, and taking the weapons tended him by his companion, he boldly pushed his way down the rough stairway leading to the dark dungeon.

“Give the signal at the least sign of danger, and I will be there in a trice,” were Mr. Pearce’s parting words. “Meanwhile if you hear me whistle, don’t fail to come back as quickly as possible.”

By this time Jack was at the foot of the descent, and parting the damp ferns that overhung the mouth of the cell, he was about to enter the dismal passage, when his foot struck something that rustled.

Reaching down in the darkness, his hand touched a sheet of paper or parchment, which he picked up.

He had hardly done this before Mr. Pearce gave a shrill whistle, which caused Jack to return to his side, wondering what had happened.

His surprise may be imagined when he saw a squad of armed men drawn up in front of them!

“They are Government soldiers in search of the fugitive,” whispered Mr. Pearce. “Don’t do anything rash if you value your life. Let me speak to them.”

A short consultation then followed in Spanish, the new-comers all the time covering the twain with their cocked carbines.

Finally Mr. Pearce turned to Jack, saying: “It is just as I thought. They are looking for an escaped prisoner-an Englishman, or rather youth, as they tell me. They think you are the one and demand your immediate surrender. The best thing you can do is to give up without resistance. I will stand by you when the time comes for the need of my help. They won’t believe a word I say now. See they are getting impatient. What answer shall I give them?”

Jack, who did not understand a word that they had said, realized from their manner that he could expect no mercy from the Chilians. If Mr. Pearce could not benefit him now, how could he later? Still his only alternative seemed to be to surrender, upon the condition that he be given fair treatment at the hands of the government.

But notwithstanding this stipulation, no sooner had he signified his intention of yielding without resistance than he was roughly siezed and bound. Then some of his captors dragged him back against the side of the bluff. The leader gave a few words of command to his followers, who obeyed by instantly bringing their firearms to their shoulders, pointed at Jack!

“Great sun!” exclaimed Mr. Pearce, his face turning white as marble as he witnessed this summary threat, “they mean to shoot you on the spot!” He had barely uttered these startling words before the leader of the squad raised his right hand, as a signal for the marksmen to fire.

VII. A Plea of the Enemy

Jack realized that only a desperate effort could save him.

Mr. Pearce, whose friendship he had no reason to doubt, stood speechless and horrified at the inhuman act of the Chilians, unable to lift a finger if it would have saved his life.

Jack was standing near to the entrance of the convict cell and as the Chilian commander raised a hand for his men to fire, he suddenly doubled himself up like a jack-knife, turning a complete somersault in the direction of the underground stairway.

His feet had not been secured, though his hands were fastened behind him.

Acting on the impulse of the moment, without any consideration for the result other than an escape from the murderous fire, he plunged head-first into the entrance at the very instant the volley of bullets sped on their deadly mission.

So closely timed were the two actions that the Chilians mistook his jump for the result of their shots, and an exclamation of satisfaction left the leader’s lips, while no immediate attempt was made to reach the side of their victim. This enabled Jack to regain his feet and to disappear into the dark mouth of the cavern before his enemies had recovered from their surprise.

Though severely shaken up by his precipitation into this retreat, unheeding the creeping creatures under his feet, which made a furious rush to and fro, Jack groped his way further and further into the gloomy place. The damp, sweaty walls covering him with a slimy moisture. Now and then some of the loosened earth would fall upon him, adding to the uncanny experience of his advance.

He expected the Chilians would follow him, but he hoped in some way he might escape them. He kept on without hearing any sound of a pursuit, until he was suddenly conscious of being confronted by some one, while a trembling voice called out from the darkness ahead:

“Stop! I am armed, and you come nearer at the peril of your life!”

It was too dark for him to see any one, but he heard a slight movement as the words were uttered, and he instantly recalled to mind the fact that the fugitive fleeing from the Chilians was supposed to be hiding in this place.

Accordingly, as he stopped, he said in a low tone:

“Be careful and you have nothing to fear from me.”

Jack had been glad to notice that the unknown had used pure English in addressing him. In a moment he asked:

“Who are you?”

“A friendless American boy who has been hunted down like a dog because—”

“Fret Offut!” broke in Jack recognizing the other’s voice.

“Jack North!” gasped the fugitive “You have betrayed me, Jack!”

“Not a bit of that. I am here on account of you.”

That was no time to question one’s motives. Jack knew that the other was his mortal enemy, but just then and there he could do no better than to forget the past. Whatever the offense he had committed against the Chilians, Fret was scarcely in worse color with them than himself.

It did not occur to honest Jack North that by delivering up his enemy he might save his own life.

Though Fret had abused his confidence shamefully, he did not have the wish to give him over to these foreign pursuers. For aught he knew his companion might be as guilty of crime against them as against himself.

Meanwhile why had the Chilians not entered the cell in pursuit of their prisoner? Were they in fear of him? Not so much that as they were in fear of entering that underground retreat, teeming with superstitious traditions.

In fact no Chilian could have been induced to enter there under any provocation short of death!

Mr. Pearce knew this, and when he saw Jack disappear he was confident the lad was safe for awhile.

It is true the leader of the party did command his men to enter, and uttered all sorts of threats against them, but they simply listened without moving.

Neither did their commander offer to lead the way.

Mr. Pearce, knowing this superstitious dread of all Chilians to enter the subterranean prisons, waited until the leader had stopped commanding and abusing his soldiers, when he ventured to interpose on Jack’s account.

As he was a man of consequence in the opinion of the Chilian chief, his words soon had the desired effect.

“Somebody,—the person you are in pursuit of—may have landed on the island last night, but this boy is a friend of mine and knows no more of him you want than I do. I vouch for his honesty, and as he has been here over a week you can see that he is not the one you are looking for, who you say must have come here since sunset yesterday.”

No doubt the Chilian was glad to get off so easily in doing what he deemed was his duty, for he ordered his men to return to their vessel without further delay.

That was the last to be seen of them, but Mr. Pearce cautiously waited until he saw the ship sailing away from the island before he spoke to Jack.

“Come out of that hole if the bugs have not carried you off,” he called out in his blunt way. “The Chilians have gone back to Valparaiso to report that they could not find their man here.”

Jack and Fret Offut had come to something of an understanding, though the latter was reluctant to meet Mr. Pearce.

The islander was surprised at sight of him, but Jack hastened to say:

“It proves the person those Chilians were so anxious to catch is an acquaintance of mine, being none other than one of the Standish’s passengers.”

“A friend of yours, eh? Those infernal—excuse me, I don’t believe I will say it. Come, let’s go down to the house.”

If Mr. Pearce was not pleased with the appearance of young Offut he did not show it, though he told Jack privately that it might be best for all concerned if they should leave the island as soon as an opportunity offered itself.

“You see another searching party may come at any hour, and I might not be as successful with another, particularly with two to answer for.”

Jack had no desire to remain any longer than he could help, as pleasant as he had found life with his newly-made friend. He was anxious to get to Valparaiso before the Standish should leave on her return voyage.

He had another reason, too, and a most important one.

He handed the paper he had picked up at the entrance to the convict cell to Mr. Pearce for him to read if possible, for it was written in Spanish, which he could not make out at the time.

Mr. Pearce read it with some difficulty, explaining it as best he could when he had carefully studied it for half a day.

VIII. The Lonely Pimento

“The writer of this strange manuscript,” began Mr. Pearce, “was evidently an unlettered person, for it is filled with so many errors as to be difficult to get the author’s meaning in many places. He was also a fugitive from justice.—I should judge, nearly all his life. He speaks of the diamond mines of Brazil and the hoarded treasures of the children of the sun in the same sentence. Then he goes on to describe a wonderful island that he discovered while hiding from pursuers under the shadows of the Andes in Tarapaca, Peru. Let me read:

“’I had come out of a dense growth of corkwood to look on a big body of water hemmed in by the mountains, when I saw some way from the shore a small island. I noticed it particularly on account of a solitary pimento tree standing in the centre, with a big rock at its foot.

“’I was hard pressed by my enemies, and seeing what I believed was a hole under the rock I swam out to the island. I did find plenty of room to hide in and my pursuers did not think of looking there for me, though they made the entire circuit of the water.

“’I stayed there two days before I dared to venture out, but it was not until I had decided to leave the place that I made the most wonderful discovery of my life.

“’The island, which was made up mostly of rocks, was fairly honey-combed with tunnels and underground passages, little and big, every one of which was filled with gold!

“’Gold lay under my feet; gold on my left hand; gold on my right; gold overhead; gold everywhere! I knew from certain inscriptions that I could partly decipher that this hidden treasure was a part of the Incas wealth in the days of Pizzaro.

“’At first I was so bewildered by my discovery that I could do nothing, but finally I took as much of it as I could carry and left the place.

“’I was, as I thought, careful to note all of its surroundings so I could come again when I should wish to get the rest of my hoard. I say I did this carefully, but a year and a half later when I came to get the rest of my treasure I could not find it. I could not even find the island, though I went over the ground from Titocaca to Atacama a hundred times.

“’I could not even find the lake!

“’I felt sure I should know that pimento tree anywhere on account of its odd shape. It had three branches leaving the trunk, one of which ran up several feet higher than the others, a dead branch pointing to the northward like a skeleton finger. There was a rim of mountains around the lake, except for a break in the range on the north.

“’Since I have been there the whole mystery has been solved in my mind and I can see that the lonely pimento with its skeleton finger is the key. I was there during the wet—”

“The rest is missing,” said Mr. Pearce, “but I have given you the substance of the illiterate scrawl in tolerable English as far as it remains. Looks as if the sheet had been torn apart. There is a fortune for you if you can only find it.”

Mr. Pearce spoke somewhat lightly, but Jack could see that he was deeply interested in the account.

Our hero had been cautious enough not to let Fret Offut into the secret, knowing he could not be trusted.

“I believe I could find that wonderful island which plays at hide and seek if I were to try it,” said Mr. Pearce. “What do you say to going fortune hunting?”

Naturally Jack’s sanguine nature was thoroughly aroused and nothing could have suited him better, and from that time they discussed the lost island with its treasure at every opportunity they had when Fret was not with them.

There was one serious drawback to their plans.

It might be a long time before they would have an opportunity to leave the island where Robinson Crusoe had spent so many lonely years. During his stay there Jack explored every part of the island. He noticed that the soil had every promise of great fertility, but that even his friend had so far taken on the laziness of the Chilians that he cultivated as little as possible. This island had become a sort of rendezvous for the ships rounding Cape Horn, and many of them had contributed to its natural and animal wealth by planting orchards and sowing grains and in leaving there many domesticated creatures.

But at this season of the year it was likely to be considerable time before a vessel should touch there, and Jack had been on Robinson Crusoe’s island a little over a month, before he found a chance to go to Valparaiso.

He was glad for the opportunity, but disappointed at the last moment to find that Mr. Pearce had concluded to give up going with him.

“Too much like work, Jack. You see I have fitted in here, and if we should find that treasure it would be of no earthly good to me as I am alone in the world. I hope you will find it, my lad, and that it will help you and Jenny to make a happy home. Good bye.”

“Good bye,” said Jack, as he pressed his friend’s hand warmly, for he had grown to like the kindhearted gentleman.

Fret Offut nodded lightly to the other, as he entered the boat which was to take them to the vessel.

The trip to Valparaiso was uneventful, but there Jack met with a great disappointment.

The Standish had left for its homeward voyage.

Thus Jack found himself left alone among strangers, save for the companionship of Fret Offut, who seemed disposed to hold aloof from him. The other had refused to tell him the cause of his being hunted by the Chilians, though Jack suspected that it was in some way the result of his attack upon him. Fret had told enough in his sleep for our hero to know that he had been arrested for the deed, and that he had afterwards escaped. But Jack did not feel like saying anything to Fret about it, as long as he showed no inclination to mention the subject.

Knowing that it might be several months before he could return to his home and being short of money, Jack at once began to look about for an opportunity to earn a living. Unable to find anything to do in Valparaiso, he walked to Tocopilla, though Fret declined to accompany him. In this town he found work as a machinist at the princely income of four Spanish dollars a week. But this was better than nothing and he went to work with a hearty good will.

He worked in Tocopilla steadily for a month. During the time he heard nothing from home or from Fret Offut.

He still kept the paper describing the mysterious island holding its vast, hidden treasure, but he had not felt like undertaking the long journey necessary to search for it.

Seeing no prospect of advance in his position, Jack was beginning to think of seeking his fortune elsewhere, when his whole future life was changed into a different groove by the appearance of a stranger at the place where he was working.

The newcomer was a Peruvian, who had been an engineer on a railroad running through the southern part of Peru, but had left to come to Tocopilla.

He and Jack soon became friends, when the latter said to him one day:

“What was the trouble with engineering, that you should leave to come here, where you can’t begin to get the pay you did there?”

“The pay was good enough, but the shooting was better. I care more for my life than I do for a few silver doubloons.”

“I am afraid I do not understand you. I was not aware that shooting and engineering went together.”

“They do in the case of the St. Resa road, Jack.”

“Tell me about it, Francis. I am interested.”

“Then I can take out that interest shortly. The road runs through debatable ground from St. Resa to de la Pama. Not an inch of it but what is being hotly contested. But it isn’t the regulars that make the trouble, for at present the territory belongs to Peru, though how soon she will lose it is not for me to say. It’s the murderous bush-raiders that are making the trouble.”

“Who are the bush-raiders?”

“That question shows a lamentable ignorance. The bush-raiders are bands of guérillas united to make war upon anybody and anything that crosses their path. They pretend to favor Chili, but they are merely using that for a cloak, and are robbers of the worst class, outlawed by all governments. Of course you know that Chili and Peru are at war?”

“I have heard of it.”

“Well, these bush-raiders, pretending to favor Chili, are making hot times all along the St. Resa. It is necessary to keep the road open if Peru hopes to hold the country, and the company are doing their best, backed by the government. They have had as many as twenty men on in the last six months.

“The three men on before me were killed by the bush-raiders, and the one before the first of them fell off and was killed while running the gantlet of fire set by the fiends.”

“You say the road is all in Peru?”

“Yes, in Southern Peru. It runs through the nitrate regions. Bless me if I don’t think there is a fortune in those mines if properly worked.

“Say, Jack, if you are dissatisfied with the money you are making here there is an opportunity for you. You are young and full of fire, just such a rash head as the bush-raiders like to get hold of. The company is offering as high as twenty pistoles a month for a man to run that engine. More for one day than you get here in a week. But bless me, if every pistole was a doubloon and I had as many of them as I could carry I would not try another trip. What are a few paltry pistoles to a man’s life?”

“I believe I would like to get that position as engineer on the St. Resa,” said Jack, after a moment’s pause. “I can run an engine, you know.”

“You have only to apply for it,” replied the other. “But say, Jack, if you should be fool enough to go up to get killed on that old engine, you had better take a fireman along with you, for you will not be able to find a helper up that way.”

Another silence fell upon the twain, during which Jack’s hands were not as busy as his brains, until finally he laid aside his work, saying in his blunt way:

“I shall start within a week for St. Resa, unless in the meantime I get some sort of word from John Fowler & Company, or from my folks.”

After that the days flew by on the wings of the wind. Eagerly Jack waited for some kind of word from his home, but not a letter reached him, for the reason that his folks were very poor and had many troubles of their own, and because the manufacturing company that had sent him to South America were in financial difficulties.

Sunday passed and then Monday, and the week came to an end. Jack had another talk with the Peruvian about the railroad position and then slapped his hands together.

“I’m going to have a try at it, come what may,” he said, determinedly.

IX. Jack Becomes an Engineer

Jack as usual, was as good as his word.

He stopped long enough to lay down his tools and seek the foreman for a leave of absence.

“Going to St. Resa? You will make the journey but one way. You will never come back.”

But Jack was determined, and nothing that the other could tell him of the perils he was sure to encounter could deter him from his purpose.

An hour later he turned his back on Tocopilla.

He was passing one of the outer gates, near the edge of the city, when he was stopped by one of the many beggars which invest the town.

“Only a miserable pittance,” implored the ragged wretch, holding out a dirty hand for the gift.

Something in the beggar’s tone and manner arrested Jack’s attention. He had been addressed in English, which was unusual, but there was more than the language to attract him to the poor alms seeker.

Then, as he bent a closer gaze on the person, he exclaimed:

“Fret Offut! can this be you?”

“Jack North!” exclaimed the other. “I did not think of seeing you here.”

“Nor I you, most of all in this condition.”

“It was all I could do, Jack,” whined the other. “I have had such bad luck since you left me! But ain’t you looking like a peacock!”

“I have managed to get a living by working hard.”

“I’ll warrant you have; but I wouldn’t work at the starvation wages they offered me. Say, where are you going?”

“To St. Resa.”

“In South Peru?”

“Yes.”

“What do you expect to do there?”

“Going to apply for a situation as engineer on a railroad.”

“Whew! I heard a man say this morning they were offering big pay. Let me go with you, Jack? You will do this for old time’s sake? I will be fireman.”

Jack’s first thought was to refuse the other’s company. He felt that Fret had already done him harm enough, and that his presence would be a positive injury to him. But upon second thought he became more generous. In spite of all Fret had done against him he could not help pitying the young fellow now in his forlorn condition, and thus he said:

“If you will promise that you will not try to make trouble for me and that you will do the very best you can for yourself. You mustn’t forget, too, that you are going where you may not come back alive.”

Fret Offut promised very solemnly to all that Jack asked, and the couple started on their hazardous journey into the interior of the country which was about to become the battleground of three nations.

They received a warm welcome at the railroad company’s office as soon as the object of their call was known. It had been a week since the last train had gone over the route, and a big accumulation of freight wanted to be moved. They were offered big wages and accepted.

“Well, Fret, we’re in for it now,” said Jack, as they went to the station to make their first trip.

The young fireman made no reply. He was already beginning to regret the step he had taken, though Jack’s fearlessness was not without its effect on him.

A big crowd was at the station to see the train start, which made Fret feel the importance of his position.

The train had a fifty-mile run and Jack found that he was expected to make it and return the same day. This did not seem a difficult task, providing the bush-raiders let them alone.

The road was in a terrible condition, yet the first trip was made without adventure and Fret’s spirits rose.

“Probably the bush-raiders did not know we were going yesterday,” said Jack, as his helper was boasting of their easy job.

Jack could not say as much when he got back from his second trip, for no less than three shots had been fired into the caboose.

Fret Offut was in genuine alarm. The situation was worse than had been described to Jack. Reports showed that the bush-raiders were gaining in numbers every day, and growing more bold as they increased in strength. The country, sparsely settled, through which the railroad ran seemed especially fitted for their guerrilla warfare, to say nothing of the poor state of the road-bed, which at places actually made the passage dangerous. Then, too, the cars and engine were cheap and simple affairs, offering no protection from the bullets of the enemies.

But Jack had no intention of giving up at this stage of the situation, and Fret concluded to risk a third trip.

The company were anxious for the train to be kept running, but offered no protection, if it could supply any.

The round trip on this day was made without any shots being fired by the enemies, though at least twenty bush-raiders were seen drawn up in sight of the train, as it wound its way through one of the gloomiest spots of the entire route.

One of the disreputable looking party waved a red cloth on the muzzle of his short-barreled carbine as they whisked past.

“Look out for to-morrow,” said Jack. “That looks to me like a sort of warning.”

It proved that he was not the only one who had his suspicions, for as he swung himself upon the engine the following morning some one stepped from out of the motley crowd collected about the station and thrusting a scrap of paper into his hand instantly disappeared.

As soon as they were fairly on their way Jack smoothed out the crumpled paper to read in a scrawling hand:

“Look out for the bush-raiders to-day.”

The sheet bore no signature or date.

“Looks like a scare by some one,” remarked Jack, as he handed the missive to Fret. “But there can be no harm in keeping a sharp lookout,” he admitted. “I suppose the trouble has got to begin soon, and it might as well be to-day as to-morrow.”

Fret Offut, whose stock of courage was small, turned pale, as he read the brief message:

“You ain’t going to keep on, Jack?”

“What else are we hired for? We should be the laughing stock of the country if we stopped now.”

“But this warning makes it different.”

“Not a bit as I can see. We came up here expecting to take our chances, and as for me it seems the bush-raiders have been very modest in opening proceedings. It is too late for us to turn back. I—”

“No—no! Stop, Jack, and I will get off.”

“If you don’t get off until I stop you will ride into de la Pama. Now don’t be foolish and let that little piece of paper upset you. It was no more than we expected. Keep a cool head and stand to your post.

“It may not be as bad as it threatens. But if you persist in leaving you can do so when we have made this trip. I don’t propose to be left in the lurch by losing my fireman at a time I cannot afford to let him go.”

Jack’s quiet determination and assurance served to quiet Fret’s fears, so he said nothing further about quitting his duty.

After leaving St. Resa, the train, which was a mixed one, made up of two passenger coaches and a dozen freight cars, had to stop at irregular intervals, following which the road ran through a twenty-mile wilderness, the most of the way rugged in the extreme.

It was during this part of the journey that Jack expected trouble if anywhere, and as he approached the broken region he kept a sharp watch on every hand.

Fret, though pale and trembling, kept his post.

“Give me every pound of steam possible,” said Jack. “If we don’t go through Whirlwind Gap flying it will be because the old engine has lost her cunning.”

They were now rushing along at a tremendous rate of speed considering the condition of the track, and the old engine rocked and lurched as if it would leave the track at any moment. There were but a few passengers aboard, for only those who were compelled to do so traveled during this dangerous period. Jack knew there was a valuable freight behind him, to say nothing of human lives, and he was determined to get into de la Pama if it lay in his power.

Thus, with a full realization of the peril of his situation, he was standing at his post, with one hand on the throttle and the other on the reversing lever, peering intently ahead, taking in every object as they sped furiously over the rails, when he suddenly beheld a sight which for a moment fairly took away his breath.

They were swiftly approaching the foot of a high bluff, upon the top of which he had discovered a dozen of the bush-raiders looking down upon him. But they were not the most startling part of what he saw and heard.

As the train dashed madly under the rocky wall, above its terrific thunder rang a deafening crash, and he saw with horror a huge bowlder coming down the side of the cliff, directly toward the engine!

It had been loosened from its bed by the bush-raiders, and so well had they timed their work that it would be impossible for the engine to get beyond its reach before the rock should fall upon it!

It would be equally hazardous to try and stop the train.

Fret Offut had seen the appalling sight, and with a despairing cry, feeling that it would be death to remain on the engine, he leaped far out over the embankment.

“Fret!” cried Jack, but no answer came back to the call.

Jack North felt that it was all over with him, but true to the instinct of his nature, he stood bravely at his post.

X. A Narrow Escape

With the wild cry of Fret Offut and the exultant yells of the bush-raiders ringing in his ears above the thunder of the rushing train, Jack North heard the ominous crash, of the descending bowlder, and saw with a dazed look its swift approach.

The locomotive, throbbing and panting like a human being in a race for life, was fairly flying along the winding track.

It all lasted but a moment, the downward rush of the deadly body, the cries of exultation and despair, the lightning-like passing of the fatal spot by the engine, and the ordeal was over as quickly as it had come!

The descent of the ponderous missile was swift and sure until a projection on the side of the cliff was reached, when with a terrific concussion the bowlder glanced. It suddenly shot outward like a cannon ball, and was carried fairly over the engine into the gulch below.

Jack witnessed this miraculous movement with breathless eagerness bordering upon terror.

The huge rock passed so near that it scraped the top of the caboose, and the current of air it raised swept the boy engineer’s cap from his head.

The train had got its length beyond the place before Jack could realize that he had escaped.

The bush-raiders reminded him of it then, if he needed any further notification, by a volley of bullets and renewed yells of rage.

Though some of the leaden missiles flew uncomfortably near his head, Jack was unharmed, and as he was borne on by the iron horse around the next curve in the track, leaving his enemies out of sight, he offered a prayer of thankfulness for his providential escape.

Fret, he was certain, must have been killed by his mad leap from the engine. As much as he would have liked to have gone back and looked for the youth, he knew such a course would have been the height of folly. Besides his own life to look after, there were the passengers who had intrusted themselves to his care.

“Poor Fret! I could do no good now, and I must remember the others. If you had only remained on the engine it would have been better for you.”

To his infinite relief, Jack saw nor heard nothing further of the baffled bush-raiders, who must have been greatly surprised at the escape of the train with its rich freight.

At the first station, which was several miles away from the scene of the outlaws’ attack, the young engineer told of the loss of his fireman and his own narrow escape from death, when an armed squad of men started to search for the body of the missing youth, and to rout the bush-raiders if they could be found.

Finding an assistant at this place, Jack finished his run to de la Pama and then came back to this station, which was known as Resaca.

The relief party had not returned, but Jack was told that a bridge had been found to be unsafe for the passage of the train, so he could not reach St Resa that day, while it might be a week before the road would be in a condition to resume his regular trips. But he was willingly allowed to start after the relief party with the engine and one car, accompanied by a dozen armed men.

They were approaching the bridge mentioned, when they met the others coming back, bearing in their midst the lifeless form of Fret Offut.

Jack immediately stopped to have the body of his associate put on the car, when he started on the return to Resaca.

The untimely fate of Fret Offut impressed him with the great uncertainty of life. It was true the other had never been his friend, but now that was forgotten and he felt a deep regret over the youth’s sad end.

The return to Resaca was made in safety. In fact nothing had been seen of the raiders since the start, and it was uncertain what might be their next move.

The following day Jack saw that Fret’s body was given burial in a little plot within sight of the low-walled church of this clustered settlement, he being the only mourner.

“If I should fall in my hazardous work, I could not expect as much as poor Fret gets in this land of strangers. The last bond between this wild country and home seems to be broken. Little did we think of this, Fret, when we anticipated that South American trip!”

The last sad duty done for Fret Offut, and finding that the bridge would not be repaired inside of a week, Jack resolved to take a little outing on his own account.

He still carried with him the paper so strangely found on Robinson Crusoe island, and he was determined to make a search for the hidden treasure which it mentioned.

Accordingly, mounted on a small but sure-footed and faithful pony, with a supply of provisions, Jack set out on his uncertain journey without telling any one his intentions, little dreaming of the result which was to come of his secret movement.

He believed the mysterious island was nearly north of Resaca, so he shaped his course in that direction, keeping a sharp lookout for any enemy that might be in his pathway.

He was in the heart of the great dry region of South America, a district of nearly a thousand miles in length, where rain seldom if ever falls, and the country is afforded sufficient moisture by the sea vapors condensed on the Andes and sent down upon the plains and lowlands. The desert of Atacama lay many miles to the south, but as he progressed he often found sections of the country without a thing growing upon the land, though sometimes these spots were bordered by the most abundant growth he had ever seen, even in that realm of grand forests and magnificent flora.

Everywhere, save on these dark patches of waste land, the vegetation was on the boldest scale imaginable, the magnitude of the trees being simply beyond the comprehension of him who had never seen them, while some of even the largest were adorned with beautiful flowers, making them seem like gardens of themselves.

On account of the density of the growth, Jack often found it difficult to advance, and many times he was obliged to make long detours in order to reach a certain point.

Zig-zagging about, always keeping his eyes open for bush-raiders, wild beasts, and, above all, for the strange island, he had spent four days in the wilderness, when he felt that it was time for him to think of returning to civilization.

He had seen no sign of the looked-for body of inland water with its treasure island, though the increasing presence of cinchona trees told him that he was already ascending into the region of the Peruvian Andes.

“I am sure it is at the foot of these mountains that the strange island exists,” he thought, as he paused on the summit of one of the foothills of the snow-crowned Monarch of Mountains. “But there is no sign of water, and how can I expect to find an island where there is no water?”

The involuntary speech brought a smile to his lips. As he would explain his thoughts, he said aloud:

“Somehow I got it into my head that there was a lake in this region, and there I was to find my treasure island. But I have been a fool to look for either. Come, Juan,” patting the neck of his pony, “let us go back while we have sense enough to do so.”

But while he spoke he lingered around the place, as if there was some strong fascination for him. It was a beautiful scene, made up almost entirely of forest, but such a forest as only Peru, with its wonderful natural wealth, can produce.

The trees were composed largely of rosewoods in all their varied beauty, the giant quassia in all their hues and tints of foliage, with a sprinkling of cinchona, lending a happy blending of more sober coloring, while from the lowlands was wafted to him on the gentle breeze of that tropical clime the perfume of the tinga.

The finger of silence lay on the lip of Nature, even the broad leaves of the quassia rising and falling on the shifting breaths of air, without that peculiar rustling sound generally belonging to the forest domain.

It was the most beautiful scene he had ever looked upon, and as he allowed his gaze to slowly move around the encircling country, he found himself looking down upon the strangest valley or mountain pocket he had ever beheld.

The singular feature of this isolated, wood-environed retreat was its complete absence of all kinds of growth, except for a sort of silky grass which covered its uneven surface like a rich carpet of the deepest green tint. Near the centre was an oval elevation of rock and earth higher by a few feet than knobs and miniature hills which dotted it elsewhere.

It was bare of vegetation, not even the silken tasia ornamenting its sides, though a solitary tree did rise in lonely grandeur from its utmost crest.

Jack uttered a low exclamation as he saw that this tree was a pimento.

In a moment his mind reverted to the description given in the strange manuscript, but a look of disappointment succeeded his eager anticipation.

“What a fool!” he exclaimed. “That tree stood on an island—”

A rustle in the undergrowth arrested his attention at that moment, and, before he could avoid the unexpected attack, a dark lissom body shot through the air, to alight squarely upon his pony, that, with a snort of terror, started madly through the growth.

XI. Under the Head of a Jaguar

Jack was nearly unseated by the sudden dash of his pony, and managing to retain his position he was in imminent danger of being swept off by the branches of the trees.

The deep growl of the creature at his back rang in his ears, and he could feel the poor pony quiver in every muscle, as the fearful claws of the brute were buried deep into its flesh.

This occupied but a moment’s time from the attack of the wild beast to the end of the pony’s flight, but it was such a moment as Jack never forgot.

He had seen a precipice in the pathway of the terrified animal, but not in season to stop the maddened creature or turn it aside, though he did make a frantic effort to do so. As if bent upon its own destruction, the pony made a suicidal leap down the precipitous descent.

The frightened creature struck upon its feet, but immediately fell over on its right side, carrying its rider with it and pinning him under its body.

The savage beast had not lost its hold, and as Jack lay there within its deadly reach he saw for the first time that it was the most dreaded of the wild beasts of South America, the jaguar.

He had barely taken a swift glance at the furious brute before a warning growl above him broke the momentary silence and then a second form, the mate of that beside him, plunged down from the top of the cliff, landing beside the first, that uttered a fierce growl at the same time.

Jack’s heart fairly stopped its beating, and finding himself unable to move his right limb, he felt that it was all over with him.

The pony had apparently been killed by its fall, together with the attack of the jaguar, as it did not move after it fell over on its side.

The ferocious beasts, with a succession of sharp growls and snarls, began to feast upon the still warm carcass of the poor horse.

It was fortunate, and showed Jack’s remarkable presence of mind as well, that at that critical moment he remembered that old hunters had said if one feigned death he might escape the attack of a wild beast under ordinary circumstances, the story of Dr. Livingstone lying under the lion’s paw coming vividly into his mind. But his left leg lay on top of the pony’s body and close to where the two jaguars were exercising their teeth and claws on the flesh.

That morning before starting from Resaca he had put on a pair of boots with stout tops as a means of protection from the bushes and brambles he might encounter on his long ride. But he could not hope these would protect him long, if at all, from the attacks of the voracious brutes.

Words cannot describe his feelings as he lay there listening to the ominous growls and crunching of the hungry animals, expecting every moment to feel their sharp teeth in his own flesh.

Two or three times he felt one or the other of the jaguars push savagely against his foot, which was lifted and carried forward upon the pony’s neck in their eagerness to get at the warm meat.

All of that horrible scene Jack heard and felt rather than saw, for he did not dare to open his eyes—dare to draw a full breath.

After awhile he heard one of the pair move away a short distance, and he could hear it licking its dripping chops after its feast.

Its mate continued its voracious attacks upon the carcass, the grinding of its jaws and the crackling of the pony’s bones making horrible sounds for the helpless boy.

When this had continued for several minutes longer, the second jaguar stopped eating and began to lick Jack’s boots.

Nothing so far had equaled the horror of that sensation.

It seemed to Jack that he must go mad if it continued long!

After what seemed a long time to him in his intense agony, the dull, rasping sound ceased; the jaguar had ended its licking, but, as if loath to leave the spot, it allowed its head to fall forward on the half eaten body, with its nostrils lying on Jack’s foot. Its slow and regular breathing finally told that it had fallen asleep after eating its dinner.

Jack a little later heard the cat-like steps of its mate leaving the place, until the pitter-patter died away in the distance.

Then, for the first time, he dared to open his eyes, though he did not venture to move his head or hand a particle.

He could see the sleeping jaguar’s head and that was all that was in sight of the creature, that still remained motionless but likely to start up at his first movement.

As Jack’s gaze followed his narrow orbit of vision he soon saw his firearm, which had slipped from him in his ride over the precipice and fallen near where he lay in that terrible situation.

He had no sooner seen the weapon than a wild desire to get possession of it filled his mind. If he only had that in his hands he believed he could shoot the jaguar before it could do him harm.

The longer he pondered upon this the stronger became the desire to make the attempt. Failure could not be any worse than that awful suspense, which in all probability must end in death.

Then, as he realized that the jaguar’s mate might return at any moment, he resolved to make the bold venture without more delay.

He was first careful to make himself sure that the brute was still asleep, when he slowly and cautiously raised his hand enough to reach for the carbine, which fortunately lay stock toward him.

Not a sound broke the deathlike stillness of the lonely scene, save the labored breathing of the sleeping jaguar.

Never allowing his gaze to leave the creature, he continued to reach for the firearm until he felt his hand touch the stock.

As complete control as he had maintained over himself so far in the trying ordeal, at this critical moment he so far forgot himself as to draw a long breath—a breath of relief to think that he had something with which to defend himself.

That breath was instantly answered by a terrific growl!

It had awakened the light-sleeping beast, which quickly raised its head, and its whole appearance immediately changed, as it glared furiously around.

It seemed to realize at once that it had been fooled by this human creature within its clutch, and with another growl, louder, fiercer and more startling than any yet, it prepared to spring on its new victim.

But it was no quicker of action than Jack, who knew that his life hung on prompt work. At the same time he lifted the carbine from the ground, he cocked the weapon. At that moment the open jaws of the aroused jaguar were thrust into his face, and the hot breath of the wild creature fanned his cheek. The next instant he ran the muzzle of the firearm into the maddened brute’s throat and pulled the trigger.

A dull report followed, the jaguar’s head was blown into fragments, and Jack knew that his life was saved.

XII. Put to the Test

Though he had no more to fear from this jaguar, Jack knew that its mate was likely to return at any moment, and as soon as he had recovered somewhat from the effect of the ordeal through which he had passed, he freed himself from the weight of the pony’s body.

He was glad to find that his limb had not received any serious injury, though it was so paralyzed from lying under the pressure that it was a few minutes before he could stand alone.

But he lost no more time than he could avoid before he left the place, feeling that his situation even then was not pleasant to contemplate. He was not only afoot in the heart of a trackless wilderness, but many miles from the nearest point of civilization.

Half an hour after leaving the scene of the jaguar’s attack, he made a discovery which caused him no little concern.

He had lost his compass.

Realizing the risk of returning to the fatal spot, as well as the uncertainty of finding the lost instrument, he kept on without it, endeavoring to pursue as direct a course as possible.

In this he was unsuccessful, and two days later he was wandering at random through the intricate labyrinths of a Peruvian forest, nearly worn out and disheartened.

Hoping that his shots might be heard by some one who would come to his rescue, he had fired all but the last load of ammunition he had with him, and that charge was in his carbine.

“I might as well discharge that,” he said to himself. “It is my last chance and I might as well take it now as later. It is useless for me to try to find my way out of this wilderness.”

In his desperation he cocked the weapon, and pointing it skyward pulled the trigger.

Loud and long rang out the report on the deep silence of the forest, the distant foothills taking up the sound and flinging it back to the valleys in echoes that repeated the detonation far and wide. As the last sullen sound died away in the distance he leaned against one of the trees, saying half aloud:

“I might as well meet the worst here as anywhere.”

Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed away, and satisfied that his last shot had been fired in vain, Jack started to resume his aimless wanderings, when the sound of footsteps fell upon his ears.

At first he thought it might be some wild beast prowling through the woods, but it was not long before a human figure burst into sight.

There was little of beauty in the youthful stranger who had thus unceremoniously appeared, but Jack had never been so glad to see any one in his life.

At sight of his woebegone countenance the newcomer came to a sudden halt in his impetuous advance, exclaiming in a voice with a peculiar and characteristic nasal twang:

“Consarn ye! who air yeou scrouched down there in that way? Aair yeou the feller who has been wasting ammunition so like a scart peon?”

The speaker’s tone was not unfriendly, and Jack was nearly overjoyed to find that the new-comer was not a Peruvian.

Springing from his seat on a fallen tree, where he had sunk in his respair, he cried in genuine gladness:

“You’re an American!”

“No more’n yeou air!” replied the other, brushing back his long blonde hair from his forehead as he spoke, and looking straight into our hero’s countenance with a pair of deep blue eyes.

Then, when the two had stared upon each other for fully a minute, both burst into a fit of laughter.

“Shoo neow!” exclaimed the Yankee boy, “who air yeou and what air yeou doing here?”

“I might ask the same question of you,” replied Jack. “My name is John North and I come from Banton, Connecticut.

“Bet yeou air called Jack every time. My name is Plummer Plucky, but I’m called Plum for short, though that is all they can make short about me. I hail from New England too, and I’ll bet my dad is hoeing taters in sight of Plymouth Rock.”

“I am lost in this wilderness,” went on Jack. “I hope you can show me the way out.”

“Bet your boots on that. I live, leastways stop, not three hours’ tramp from here, though if yeou had come to-morrer yeou wouldn’t found me here. I have been working on the estancia of Don de Estuaray, the dirtiest, meanest, miserliest, yellowest old Spaniard that ever drew the breath o’ this beautiful country.”

“Evidently you love the Don,” said Jack, with a smile.

“Do I? Do you know what he pays me fer work thet’s enought to kill a man?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“No more you have. He pays me three dollars and sixty cents a month—think of it—if you can!”

“That’s a small fortune” went on Jack. He rather liked the fellow before him. “I suppose you’ve got a pile saved up in the bank out of it.”

“Think so? Consarn ye, yer ain’t got no right to think so!” And now the other really looked somewhat angry.

“No, I don’t think so,” answered Jack, promptly. “I was only fooling. They don’t pay big wages down here—I’ve found that out—down near the coast, where I worked at starvation wages myself.”

“Wall, I aint jest starved,” said the other youth, somewhat mollified. “I git feed enough—leas’-wise, I take what I want. But it ain’t enough money—no it ain’t—nohow, consarn him anyway!”

Jack had too much at stake to desire a quarrel with his new-found acquaintance, so he hastened to say:

“I hope you will forgive me if I have said anything to offend. I trust we shall be friends.”

Whatever of anger Plum had shown quickly left his honest countenance, and frankly holding out a hand, he said:

“I never pick a quarrel with any one, but I won’t let any one tread on my toes. I reckon we shall be friends.”

The clasp of the hands which followed cemented the firmest friendship of Jack North’s life, an acquaintance which, notwithstanding its inauspicious beginning, was destined to ripen into a heart-felt intimacy.

The hand-shaking over, the twain, Plum leading the way, started in the direction whence the latter had come at the sound of Jack’s carbine. On the way toward the estancia where the former had been working, our hero learned the complete story of his past life; how he had left home to win a fortune and drifted over the world until he was now employed by this Don de Estuaray at the princely sum which had been the crumb of argument between them a few minutes before.

Jack in turn told the other his story, except that part bearing upon the island of treasure, and long before they had reached signs of civilization they had become fast friends.

So favorably impressed was Jack with the appearance of his new-found chum that he proposed that Plum should apply for the position of fireman on the St. Resa railroad, a proposition which met the other boy’s hearty approval the moment he learned the wages he was likely to get His first question was:

“Do yeou s’pose they will have me?”

“Gladly. It isn’t a question of that, but whether you have the sand to stand up in a spot where you are likely to lose your life any minute.”

“Reckon I can stand up where you can, and if I do lay down it will be to stay there. Give me your hand, old feller. I like yeou.”

They were now approaching the estancia of Don de Estuaray, who lived in a pleasant valley several miles from any settlement, and as they advanced Jack could not help noticing the tall growth of a patch of vegetation on their right hand, as they were entering the spacious grounds.

To his wonder he saw cotton plants that reached far above his head and sugar cane which stood like forest trees. Plum Plucky, standing on his shoulders, with Fret Offut, had he been living then and there, on his shoulders, could not have reached the top of the lowest plants!

He saw indigo plants that amazed him for their size, and altogether it was such a sight as he had never seen.

A short distance away he saw a field of oats which reared their heads into the air to a height of more than fifteen feet.

Plum Plucky seeing the look of surprise on his countenance, said:

“Can’t guess what made that stuff grow so? I can tell you. I just brought down some of that funny dirt found in the barren spots on the hills yonder and put a good lot round the roots. It beats all creation how it sends the stuff into the air. The don said I’d kill it all, but I knowed better, for I had seen the wild stuff growing like fun all round the edges of sich places. But it don’t seem to hitch on in the spots themselves. S’pect it’s too stout there.”

Jack at once recalled the accounts he had heard of the nitrate beds on the Peruvian hills, though he did not dream then of the importance of this discovery to him.

Our hero was anxious to get back to Resaca, knowing that his prolonged absence might have already cost him his situation as engineer on the railroad, and as Plum Plucky had fully decided to go with him, they lost no further time in starting for that place.

They found the railroad officials in a fever of excitement.

Believing that Jack had left them and finding no one to take his place, the bush-raiders having grown bolder in their depredations, in their despair, the managers were offering double their previous pay for a man who would dare to undertake the work of getting a train through from St. Resa to de la Pama.

Jack felt unbounded delight upon finding that the pay had been raised to over a hundred dollars a trip, and without any explanation he offered himself for the situation a second time.

He was gladly accepted, with no questions asked while Plum was given the position of fireman at a salary which caused him to look with amazement.

“Well!” he exclaimed, “it’s too good to last.”

“Wait till you meet the bush-raiders,” said Jack.

“I reckon I can take any medicine that you can,” was the answer, and the boy engineer realized that he had filled Fret Offut’s place with a companion of altogether different make-up.

Somewhat to their surprise three trips were made without any molestation from the outlaw band, when the young couple were put to a test few would have the courage to meet.

A party of Peruvian soldiers had been sent out to protect, as far as possible, the road, but upon this run Jack learned at a small station before coming to the stream where the bridge had been repaired, that this squad had been completely routed by the outlaws of the forest, and the victorious raiders were lying in wait for the train.

In this dangerous prospect every passenger left the cars at this place, but the order came for the train to go on if a suitable escort could be raised.

In twenty minutes as many armed men were waiting a start, though, as Jack looked over the motley party, he realized that not one of them would be worth a fig in a fight with the bush-raiders. Worse than that, he felt confident that the majority, if not all, were in league with the outlaws, and when the proper time came would openly join with them in trying to capture the train.

But the station agent, blind to this fact, priding himself upon having done his duty, pompously ordered Jack to proceed on his way.

As if not to be outdone, the conductor who remained with one brakeman, reiterated the command.

“It looks so we were in for it,” said Jack, as he took his post at the lever. “What do you say, Plum, have you the grit to try it?”

“I am with you, Jack, let come what may. See! I have got on a smashing head of steam.”

Without another word Jack pulled the bell-cord, and, throwing the valves wide open, sent the train thundering out of the station along the gleaming track into dangers which the bravest would not have cared to anticipate.

XIII. Precious Moments

The little crowd at the station waved their hands and gave expression to prolonged cries, as the train thundered away on its perilous run.

Soon beyond the hearing of these outcries the two youths, standing so bravely at their posts, heard no sound save the deep rumbling of the engine and cars, as they sped swiftly on their way through the wilderness.

Jack was the first to speak.

“Fix the fire so you can leave it for a short time if necessary, Plum.”

“Leave it any time, Jack. I wasn’t so green firing as they thought me. Reckon my firing Joe Staples’ old saw-mill didn’t hurt me any for this business.”

“Did you burn it down, Plum, or was it sav—”

“Scat! you know what I mean. But do yeou begin to see anything ahead?”

“I could hardly expect to so soon, for they will be pretty sure to keep out of sight until we are into their trap.”

“Do yeou think they will have a rock on the track?”

“Perhaps some obstruction. I can’t just imagine how they will take us this time.”

“Say, Jack, what do yeou think of ’em fellers on the train?”

The words seemed so much like an echo of his own thoughts that the boy engineer started with surprise at the question.

“I’ll bet yeou,” continued Plum, “they’ll make us more trouble than the fellers in the bushes.”

“Plum Plucky, you just speak my mind. I was thinking how we could best get rid of them.”

“Bully for yeou, Jack North! Tell me what to do and I’m with yeou tooth and nail.”

“In one respect we are fortunate,” said Jack, in a tone which showed that he had been pondering carefully over the matter. “The car they are in is to the extreme rear.”

“You intend to take the freight through if possible?”

“At any cost.”

“Well, then, what does their being in the rear car have to do with our getting the rest through? Looks so they air fixed to help the raiders best so.”

“Why simply—look yonder!” said Jack, pointing suddenly a little to their right in the distance ahead.

Plum Plucky did as he was told.

“What is it, Jack, a big rock?”

“Rock? No! Look over those tree-tops; don’t you see that thin column of smoke rising high into the air and as straight as a church spire?”

“Gosh! yes. What of it? There can’t be much wind.”

“It is a signal of the bush-raiders.”

“S’pose it is?”

The train was now winding through the valley of the Rio Tasma, and the sullen roar of the mountain stream was beginning to be heard above the thunder of the cars, which were rushing along at a rapid rate.

“I am sure of it,” replied Jack, as he continued to watch the ascending smoke, though without neglecting his survey ahead. “What else can it mean?”

“Sure enough.”

“Do you think we have a brakeman we can count on in case of an attack?”

Plum hesitated a moment before replying.

“Not unless it is little Pedro.”

“Just my mind. See! the smoke is dying out. Whatever message they had to make has been made.”

“What do you think it could be?”

“I will tell you what I think. Just before that column appeared we must have been in sight of whoever was on that height, and they gave that as a signal that we were coming.”

“Jack you are nobody’s fool; but couldn’t they hear the sound of the train?”

“Not above the roar of the river if they are on the other side.”

“I didn’t think of that. But what about little Pedro?”

“Only this: In case those chaps in the rear car show signs of being against us we must get rid of them as soon as possible. Do you think you can go back to Pedro?”

“Yes.”

“Well, do so at once and return as soon as you can, for every moment is precious now. Tell Pedro the moment he hears the bell ring to uncouple the rear car. Mind you, only that. He must be there ready at all times until we have passed through the woods. Get back as soon as you can.”

“You can count on that,” and with these words Plum began to climb over the tender toward the line of cars behind.

The bridge of the Rio Tasma was now in plain sight, and Jack’s whole attention was fixed upon the new structure that spanned the rapid stream.

Everything seemed all right there, so he allowed the train to rush on at unabated speed.

There was a wild fascination about this perilous trip that Jack could not shake off. Every moment he expected to run into some unknown danger, and he would not have been surprised to find the bridge suddenly collapsing beneath the train.

But nothing of the kind occurred, and the engine was speedily across the stream.

He was approaching the place where he had so narrowly escaped death from the falling bowlder, and he could not help glancing toward the top of the cliff, as he was carried around the curve.

At that moment the report of a gun rang out sharply on the air, the sound coming from the rear of the train.

Then an answering report came from the depths of the forest ahead!

“The men in the car are signaling to the raiders!” flashed through Jack’s mind, and, simultaneously with the thought, he gave the bell cord a quick jerk.

“If Plum has only got there,” he thought, as he turned his gaze upon the course ahead.

He knew that Plum nor Pedro could not uncouple the car as long as they were climbing the upgrade, but immediately beyond the bend a descent was made into the valley.

He was rapidly approaching the summit, when he made a discovery which sent a thrill of horror through his frame.

Not a hundred yards ahead lay on the right hand rail a huge bowlder!

That the bush-raiders had put it there to wreck the train he had no doubt.

Just then the train gave a sharp lurch, and the reports of firearms pealed above the din of the moving train.

Instantly the bell cord was pulled vigorously three or four times.

Plum Plucky was in trouble.

XIV. The Attack on the Train

The firing from the rear increased, but Jack had enough to attend to without giving it a second thought.

Out from the depths of the forest overhanging the track ahead had sprung a score or more of armed men.

Expecting the terrible collision they had planned, they had leaped upon the track in front of the oncoming train, flourishing their weapons and uttering wild yells of triumph.

It was a moment to Jack North which meant all to him. To stop the train was to throw it into the hands of his enemies; to keep on was like rushing into the very jaws of destruction. The commotion still raging at the rear of the train, the exulting fiends in the pathway ahead, and not less the silent but ominous bowlder on the gleaming track foretold the end, let him act as he might.

With that unerring precision of gaze which never failed him, Jack saw that the stone lay at such a place and in such a position that the engine would not strike it squarely, but sidewise, as it swept around the curve. To make it more favorable the obstruction, as has been said, lay on the right, or outside rail.

Had it been on the opposite one all would have been changed to a terrible certainty.

There was no cowcatcher in front, similar to those seen on the engines in this country, but there was a heavy iron fender in its stead, which presented a square defense. This bar would strike the rock below midweight, and in such an oblique manner that he believed the barrier would be hurled from the track without derailing the engine.

Jack understood that he was taking a fearful risk, but with all these favoring circumstances it could not be more disastrous than to stop and to fall easy victims to the bush-raiders and their allies.

These thoughts flashed through his mind and he resolved to keep on at all hazards. Thus he let on all the steam in reserve and stood grimly at his post.

The engine obeyed like a living creature. It gave a mighty plunge forward and dashed upon the ponderous barrier disputing its advance.

The suspense was of brief duration, but Jack’s thoughts flew fast and far. He realized that if the engine failed to clear the track it would be all over with him in a moment.

He was thinking of Jenny when the shock came with a force which fairly lifted the heavy engine! A crash and another shock threw him face downward on the floor of the cab.

He felt that the crisis had been passed and the train was still rushing on. Furious yells—yells that made the wildwoods ring with their intonations—filed his ears, and a volley of bullets whistled around his head.

He looked up and saw the trees rushing past him at a terrific speed.

A backward glance showed him some of the outlaws beside the track, while others were scattered on both side of the rails, where the engine had flung them in heaps.

At the bottom of the valley lay the big bowlder, which had been dislodged and hurled into the depths.

The front of the engine showed the marks of its fearful blow, and he began to realize more fully the awful risk he had taken.

The firing from the rear car had ceased, and wondering what had become of Plum Plucky, he pulled the bell cord once.

A prompt response was given by two violent jerks on the rope, when he knew that Plum was alive and on the train.

He did not have long to wait before he heard some one crawling over the tender, and a moment later his fireman dropped beside him.

“Golly, Jack!” exclaimed Plum, “wasn’t that a squeezer?”

“What have you done?” asked Jack.

“We’ve got ’em!” beginning to execute a dance on the footboard.

“What do you mean? Have you lost your senses?”

“I mean we’ve got the traitors as tight as a squirrel in a box-trap. Some of ’em jumped off and were killed, but we’ve got the most of ’em, and Pedro is holding ’em there fast.”

The train had slowed so the two could talk as they continued on.

“I don’t understand you, Plum,” said Jack, ready to believe almost anything after what he had passed through.

“Well, yeou see I just played a Yankee trick on ’em. Just as I had got back to Pedro, and before I could tell him what to do, some of the men come out of the car, and I see they were going to uncouple it just as you had told me to! By that I knew some trick was up, and before they could tell what had struck ’em I pushed the sinners back into the car and shut the door. No sooner had I done that than I covered ’em with my gun and asked Pedro to help me. In the midst of it there came that awful chuck, when I thought for a minute we’d all gone together. But it was soon over, and Perdo is standing guard over our prisoners. As I said some of ’em jumped off, but I guess they won’t jump ag’in. Do yeou s’pose the trouble is over?”

At first Jack could scarcely believe the other’s story, but he saw that his excited companion was in earnest.

“It was a fearful moment, Plum, and we should be thankful that we came out alive. I think we have learned the raiders a lesson they won’t forget. It will be best to try and get your prisoners to Resaca.”

It would not do to stop the train or even check its speed, as the prisoners would be sure to take advantage of the situation. Thus Jack was obliged to keep a sharp lookout and crowd the old engine on as fast as he could with any degree of safety.

No further adventure befalling them, Jack and Plum at last had the satisfaction of reaching Resaca. Never was there greater surprise in town than when this train came into the station and the true situation became known.

Officers were called to take charge of the prisoners in the car, but as nothing could be proved against them, except what Jack and Plum stated, and as their evidence was immediately discredited, the whole party went free, vowing vengeance against their captors.

Jack saw that, on account of their being foreigners, they had really lost favor by the capture, and he was glad to get clear so easily. After this they ran a week without interference, not a solitary bush-raider having been seen. Evidently the survivors had learned a lesson not to be quickly forgotten.

Of course our hero and Plum received a few praises for their success in getting the train through as they had, but it was evident to both that they could not get full credit for whatever they might do. In fact it was difficult for them to get acknowledgment for doing an ordinary duty.

This was due to the fact that they were foreigners and looked upon with suspicion, no matter what they did.

Jack was not therefore much surprised when one day, as he was stepping upon his engine at St. Resa, to have a bright-buttoned official stop him and motion for another man to take charge of the locomotive.

This new arrival was a Peruvian, and the boy engineer was not long in learning that he was willing to work for twelve pistoles a month. Though smarting under this unfair treatment, Jack offered no objections as he stepped aside. The war with Chili was assuming more alarming proportions, and he foresaw that troublesome times were near at hand.

Plum Plucky, upon finding that he was going to have a new master, jumped down from the cab, exclaiming:

“You can’t have my valuable services if you turn off Jack North!”

This was a turn in affairs the officials had not looked for, but the boys did not stop to listen to their protestations.

Later they learned that the train did not make a run that day.

XV. The Treasure Island

“Now,” said Plum, as soon as he joined his friend, “I call that about the meanest trick I ever see played on a feller. Of course I wasn’t going to stay to fire for that weazen-faced son of old Piz-arro.”

“It seems too bad you should lose your job on my account, Plum. Particularly when I am more than half glad to lose mine, while you have made a real sacrifice.”

“Oh, carrots! I ain’t any worse off than I was before. But what are you going to do, Jack?”

“I am going to speculating.”

“What!” in amazement.

“Speculating, Plum. I have been thinking several days of a scheme in which I believe there is more money than in running an engine for bush-raiders to run down.”

“I’ll bet you’re going to speculate in that dirt I put round the don’s plants.”

“You got it right the first time, Plum. I—”

“Ginger! going to raise coffee? ’Cause of you air I can give you a pointer.”

“No; you are on the wrong track now. But I have no objection to telling you. Ever since I saw the result of your experiment I have been thinking that the stuff would sell like hot cakes in our own country, in places where the land is worn out and needs some such a stimulant. At any rate I am going to send home a cargo and see what comes of it.”

“Hooray! I see it all now. It may pay, but I doubt it. How air you going to get the stuff there?”

“In the first place I have got to get possession of the article itself, though I do not believe this will be a very expensive undertaking. I have a few dollars I have saved up from my wages, and I think I can borrow some somewhere. I am going to buy one of the nitrate tracts as soon as I can get suited.”

“You can buy a big mine for a hundred dollars, ’cause they’re looked on with disfavor. But after you’ve bought one, what then?”

“I am going to team a cargo to the nearest port and then charter a ship to take it home.”

“You’re smart enough to be a general, Jack North,” and having paid him the highest compliment that he could, according to his estimate, Plum added:

“Say, Jack, I want to drive the team for you.”

“You shall. But, as I am anxious to begin operations, I am going to look for my first purchase.”

“Don de Estuaray is the man you want to see. There is a big bed on his estancia.”

“It seems to me your experiment may have opened his eyes.

“He may catch onto my scheme quicker than some one who has seen nothing of what this nitrate will do.”

“Of course you’re right and I’m a blockhead, as usual. But go ahead and I’ll tag at your heels like a dog.”

Jack’s first move was to get a couple of ponies for himself and Plum to ride. Then the pair, with provisions enough to last several days, set out on their quest.

Taking the direction of what he believed to be the heart of the nitrate region, Jack in a couple of days found several beds which he felt would prove rich fields of speculation.

His prime object was to find a bed which should not be too far removed from the railroad, or at least where its product could be the easiest teamed.

It was during his search one day that he got separated from his companion, in his desire to explore a wider stretch of country, when he quite unexpectedly found himself in the vicinity of his adventure with the jaguars.

The memory of that encounter brought back to his mind the lonely pimento he had seen in the valley on the opposite side of the hilly range, and the story of the hidden treasure filled his thoughts.

“If I could only find that now how it would help me to carry on my speculations.”

Determined to look again on the spot, he climbed the ascent, until for a second time he stood on the height.

Before he had reached this elevated position he had heard a deep rumbling sound in the distance—a sound which seemed like the whirl and rush of angry waters, as if he was approaching a high cataract.

Ere he had gained the extreme top of the elevation, however, this noise suddenly died away, and the calmness of the primeval wilderness lay on the scene as he paused on the summit to gaze into the valley.

Naturally his gaze had turned in that direction, and an exclamation of astonishment left his lips, as he saw that the valley was gone!

The great basin was filled with water, the high hills and mountains forming a mighty rim with a piece of the huge bowl broken away where the gap existed in the elevated range on the north. But another feature of this inland lake had greater interest for him.

Near its centre was a small, barren island, entirely destitute of growth except for a solitary tree standing on its highest point.

The lonely monarch stood stark and stern in all its solitude, with one branch lifted like a skeleton arm pointing toward the north.

“The pimento—the treasure island!” exclaimed Jack with suppressed emotion.

The longer he looked upon the little island and its surroundings the more fully convinced he became that it was the spot described in the paper he had found so singularly on Robinson Crusoe’s island.

When he had recovered somewhat from his glad surprise he urged the pony down the rough descent until the shore of the lake was reached.

“Oh, Don!” he said to the faithful pony, “you must take me to the island,” never dreaming of the effort it would cost.

As he spoke a commotion began in the water at the north end, though that in front of him was still as unruffled as ever. But the pony had barely plunged into the tide before a deep, guttural sound came up from the depths and long lines of foam appeared on the surface.

Nothing daunted by this, Jack continued to urge the animal ahead in spite of its desire to turn back, until they were about midway between the bank which they had left and the island.

The strange noise had increased so that now it completely filled Jack’s ears, while the water was in a fearful state of agitation. It had taken on a peculiar greenish hue, with big flecks of white foam, and here and there were fountains spouting up bright yellow liquid, which rose to the height of from ten to twenty feet.

The youth felt a strong undercurrent, and, finding that he could not reach the island, he tried to get back to the shore he had left.

By this time the pony was struggling helplessly in the mysterious power sucking it downward.

Then, before Jack could clear his feet from the stirrups, so as to look out for himself, he was drawn under the seething waters with his horse!

XVI. At the Boiling Lake

As Jack felt the swirling waters closing over him, he made greater effort to keep on the surface.

His gallant pony was struggling furiously for the same purpose, but the power pulling them down was irresistible.

A continual roaring filled his ears, and it seemed as if he was being drawn into some infernal region.

In spite of all he could do he was carried downward, until suddenly he felt a terrible shock, as if he had been hurled against some stony surface, and the next he knew he was floating on the water near the north end of the lake, which was then quite tranquil. He had no difficulty in swimming to the nearest point of land.

Scrambling up the precipitous bank he was glad to sink upon the ground for rest.

He was wondering if his pony had perished, when he was gladdened by the sight of the animal on the opposite side of the lake.

Before going to the horse Jack resolved to try to swim out to the island, and as the water had now assumed the calmness which had prevailed at the time he had first seen it, he did not think of further trouble. He had received some bruises from his recent experience, but beyond them he felt little the worse for his adventure.

Removing his outer garments, so as to give greater freedom to his movements, he stepped down to the edge of the dark flood, which was filled with the fine particles of earth it had swallowed.

As calm as the water was then, he had barely touched it with one foot before a shriek, which rang in his ears for a long time afterwards, rang high and far, cut short in its midst by a fearful rush of the aroused flood, and a column was suddenly thrown into the air to the height of a hundred feet!

It was such a terrific, appalling outburst that he hastily clambered back upon the bank, to watch the strange sight. For fully two minutes the waterspout quivered and vibrated in the air, when it collapsed as abruptly as it had appeared.

The water of the lake continued to boil for five minutes, when it began to subside, though bearing traces of agitation for five minutes longer, during which Jack watched it with intense interest.

Still undaunted by this marvelous display, Jack resolved to try a third time to reach the island, selecting a more favorable place for his descent into the water this time.

As no outbreak had immediately followed his entrance into the lake this time, he was beginning to think that the strange phenomenon was over. But he was soon to be undeceived.

All at once, without warning, a dozen columns of water sprang upward, threatening for a moment to drain the lake dry, and among these rushing, writhing pillars Jack was borne into the air.

When the powers subsided he fell back with such a force as to render him almost senseless. The lake was still churned and convulsed by the mighty agency controlling it, and he had a hard fight to reach the shore, where he lay completely exhausted.

Slowly recovering his strength he finally sat up and began to wring the water out of his clothes, deciding to leave the place as soon as he felt able. The water was calm then; though a short time before it had been tossed and whipped into fury by the mysterious element controlling it.

“Were the whole Incas treasure buried on that island it would be safe from the hand of the despoiler,” he said, speaking aloud his thoughts. “But I do not understand it. I am willing to wager that this is the same valley I saw when I was this way before, though it was as dry as a palm leaf then. How calm it is now, but I suppose if I should dare to enter its sacred precinct it would begin again its fearful convulsions.”

As he finished speaking, Jack picked up a small stone and tossed it into the lake. No sooner had it disappeared beneath its dark surface than another column of water shot upward with a sort of hissing that was terrific, and in a moment the whole body was once more undergoing a series of spasms frightful to behold.

Watching it until the outbreak was over, Jack lost no further time in seeking the pony. Then he began to climb the hillside leading from the place.

Upon the crest he paused for a last look, saying:

“It is calm enough now. Sometime I will come again, for I will know its secret if I die for it. There is and must be a natural explanation for all this.”

Finding Plum Plucky waiting anxiously for him at the expected place of meeting, Jack led the way toward civilization, having come to the conclusion to close the trade on one of the nitrate beds he had seen and begin operations as soon as possible.

He said nothing to his companion of his experience in the valley of mystery, partly because the stirring scenes immediately following caused him to put it in the background of his memory for a while.

He was the more anxious to get his first cargo of nitrate off as the war cloud was deepening fast, and not only was Peru and Chili at a state of bitter antagonism, but Bolivia was threatening to mix in the trouble. A three-cornered war, with Southern Peru for its battleground, was anything but what he desired to see.

The next day he bought his first nitrate bed, paying for it forty pistoles, which was considerably more than he had expected, but it was large, and if his plans only worked he believed there was a small fortune in it.

He then hired oxen enough to make two six-ox teams, with suitable wagons to draw the nitrate on, and he engaged the services of half a dozen Peruvians to help in the work of getting out the first loads.

As the bed lay remote from the few beaten paths of the thinly populated country, it would involve considerable hard work and time to get passable roads cut through, so as to be able to draw loads of any size.

“By gosh!” drawled Plum Plucky, as they set out on their work, “I’m going to stand by yeou; but yeou may hang my hat on a scare-crow if I don’t think yeou’ll blow yerself dry.”

“By that I suppose you mean that I shall lose all I am putting into my venture,” said Jack, good-naturedly.

“That’s just what I mean. I’ll bet yeou have got about every dollar yeou have into it now.”

“I have figured up that I shall have about twenty pounds left when I have paid off my help.”

“Say, Jack! I’d like to be there when you get in with yer first load of dirt and see ’em laugh. Don’t s’pose yeou have any dirt in the teown yeou come from.”

“Not dirt that is pure nitrate of soda, and possessing the highest qualities for fertilization of any known compound. Hello! what is up now?”

XVII. In the Nitrate Fields

The last exclamation was called from Jack by the fact that the teams had suddenly stopped, and the native drivers were shouting excitedly over something which had happened.

They were at the time trying to make a roadway to the nitrate bed through a trackless wilderness, and had thus far progressed with greater ease than the young speculator had calculated.

But upon reaching the spot where the teamsters and workmen were holding an excited controversy, Jack found that the cause of the excitement was the fact that the way had been stopped by a sharp, rocky ridge, which extended for miles in both directions.

“We can’t go any further, señor,” declared the head driver. “No team can find its way through these rocks and up and down the hill.”

Jack had seen this place when making his survey and had calculated upon the difficulty in passing it, having the route most feasible at this point.

“Let two men come forward with axes to clear away the stunted growth, and the rest get their levers. I will show you by to-morrow it can be passed.”

Lively work followed, the men taking hold with a vim, so that by noon the next day a path had been cleared, so the teams could cross the rocky ridge.

The balance of the distance to the mine was very favorable and at last Jack had the satisfaction of finding himself at his destination, when the men were set to work loading the carts, the oxen getting a chance to rest while it was being done.

While superintending the work Jack had time to realize more fully than before the gigantic undertaking he had upon hand. It is true the worst seemed over, now that the path was cleared, but he knew with the rude implements he had to work with that this had been poorly done, and that the loaded teams would have difficult work to reach the open country. Even then he would be many miles from the nearest seaport, where he was likely to meet with another obstacle in finding a ship to transport his cargo to the United States. Then, after he had reached home, how would he be treated? A failure to sell his nitrate meant the loss of every penny of money he had worked so hard to earn. But these anxious thoughts did not rob him of his confidence in his ultimate success. Now he had put his shoulder to the wheel, he was not one to look back.

When the hour came for him to give the order to hitch up the cattle and prepare for the return journey, he gave his orders in a cheery tone.

“I tell you, Jack,” said Plum, speaking with less drawl than common, “I’m mighty glad to do this. I don’t see how you can be so chipper, for I’m dead sure we’re going to have loads of trouble before we get out of this.”

“No great thing was ever done without having more or less trouble at the outset,” replied Jack. “As soon as we get started we shall find it easier. Hi, there, Pedro!” addressing one of the Peruvian drivers, “you have those oxen yoked wrong. You ought to know better by this time.”

“Who knows best, señor, you or I?” demanded the Peruvian, showing anger at what he deemed an unwarranted interference.

Jack said nothing further, feeling that he had spoken too sharply perhaps, though he knew he was in the right. He had found the natives anything but pleasant men to deal with, and the quarrel of one was sure to be taken up by his companions.

Five minutes later the foremost team was leaving the nitrate bed, starting on its long journey at the slow pace of oxen, while the other soon followed.

Vague reports had reached Jack before he had left on his trip, of the uprising of the people, and of the guerrilla warfare being carried on by the straggling armies of the North and South. Still he did not think he would be molested, and he felt in good spirits, as they followed the rough pathway.

To be on his guard as much as possible, however, he had thought best to keep a short distance ahead of the teams, while Plum Plucky followed about the same distance behind, the two thus maintaining a continual watch over the train.

Nothing occurred to delay their progress, until Jack found himself climbing the steep upgrade, which the Peruvians had declared impassable before they had done so much work in clearing it. The course was uneven now, and considerable of the way it was little more than a scratch on the mountain side, with a sheer descent on one side of hundreds of feet.

He had got about half way toward the top when the loud cries of the teamsters caused him to look back.

A glance showed him that the foremost team was “hung up” at a particularly bad place.

The drivers were belaboring the patient oxen unmercifully, but not another inch could they make the animals pull the load.

Shouting to the men to stop their useless goading of the oxen, our hero ran back to the spot, finding that the second team had stopped a short distance below, where it was comfortably waiting for the other to move ahead so it could resume its tedious journey.

As there was no chance to get the oxen on the lower team past the upper one, so as to be hitched on to help, on account of the narrowness of the road, Jack quickly dismissed such an idea from his thoughts.

Not wishing to throw off a part of the load, which must be lost by so doing, he stepped alongside the cattle and began to stroke them and to speak gently to them.

“Both teams couldn’t pull the load up this path, señor,” said one of the drivers.

“I am sorry I did not think to double up at the foot of the ascent, but it is too late to complain now. Come, boys! all together.”

Jack had taken the long, slender pole, with its ten feet of lash, with which the drivers urged on their patient teams, and swinging the unwieldly instrument over their heads as he uttered the words, he hoped to make them start.

The result was most unexpected.

Putting their shoulders to the work with renewed life, the obedient oxen fairly touched the ground with their bodies as they tugged ahead with their burden.

The cart creaked and the axles groaned, while the heavy wheels began to revolve.

“Hooray! it is mov—”

Plum Plucky gave expression to the exultant cry, but he did not have time to finish before a loud snap was heard, and the oxen were seen to suddenly plunge up the grade, leaving the cart!

“The pull pin has broken!” cried one of the Peruvians, terrified.

“The clevis has broke—look out!” yelled Plum, turning pale. “The other team will be smashed!”

The heavily loaded wagon, freed suddenly from the power which had pulled it to this precarious position, stood for a moment as if balanced on the pinacle.

Of course Jack had seen what was taking place with a quicker eye than any of his companions, and as he saw the wagon trembling in the balance for a moment before it started on its downward course to destruction, and realizing that a timely action could yet save it, he rushed forward to seize hold of one of the wheels, shouting to his assistants:

“Quick—put your shoulder to the wheel and we may save it!”

Plum did spring forward to help his friend, but even he was too late to be of any avail, while the Peruvians stood idle, without offering to move.

While the united strength of all might have stopped the wagon, Jack’s resistance was futile, and in a moment the loaded vehicle started on its downward course, soon gaining a momentum that nothing could stop.

Faster and faster it moved, the wheels creaking and groaning unanimously, as it gained in speed.

The drivers of the other team in the pathway below uttered wild cries of terror, as they saw their danger, and began to scramble helter-skelter up the mountain side.

The runaway was going directly upon them, but they were likely to escape.

Not so with the oxen and wagon, which seemed surely doomed.

Jack saw at a glance his whole work going to naught in a moment’s time.

Then his presence of mind returned to him and he thought he saw a way to avert a part of the loss.

Bounding down the pathway after the runaway, he soon managed to catch hold of the tongue, which was dodging swiftly from one side to the other of the path, according as it was swung to and fro by the motion of the forward wheels.

Grasping this forearm with all the strength he possessed, Jack swung it toward the near side, until locking the forward wheel on that side against the sill of the cart.

He had seen that the only chance to save the rear wagon was at the sacrifice of the other, and no sooner had he begun to hold the pole in that position that the wagon began to turn toward the gulf yawning on that side of the track.

It was a fearful alternative, but the best he could do, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief as he found the hind wheels going over the brink of the chasm.

For a moment the big load stood quivering on the edge of the precipice, and then, with a crash which sounded far up and down the rugged valley, the wagon went headlong to its doom.

XVIII. An Alarm of Fire

Breathless and exhausted by his almost superhuman effort, Jack sank down upon the hard rocks, where he had stood at the fateful moment.

Plum Plucky, further up the broken pathway, stood in silent awe, while the Peruvians looked on from their perches on the mountain side with bulging eyes and chattering teeth.

The only creatures which seemed unconcerned were the oxen which had been so narrowly threatened, as they quietly chewed their cuds, while they blinked their big, soft-lighted eyes. Plum was the first to speak.

“Jiminey whack, Jack! but you’ve done it.”

“It was my only chance to save the oxen and the other load,” said Jack, rising to feet. “Better save half a loaf than to lose it all, you know. Simply couldn’t turn it into the rocks.”

“But I don’t see how you could think of it. I was scart, I ain’t ashamed to own. I’ll bet that other is smashed into kindling wood.”

Jack was already looking over the precipice after the lost wagon, saying in a minute or so:

“It has come out better than I should have expected, though it will do us no further good. It has lodged among some trees and rocks, and I do not believe a wheel has been broken.”

“That’s so, Jack, though I reckon it don’t make any difference to us. But if ’em rocks don’t start to grow it’s ’cause the nitrate ain’t any good, for the stuff is sowed all over the Andes.”

“It is pretty well scattered, that is a fact. But come, boys, we must hitch on the other oxen, and see if the double team can pull this load to the top.”

Though the loss of one of his wagons and a portion of his nitrate, which had cost him so much to get so far, was felt keenly by Jack, he showed his indomitable will by immediately giving his attention toward carrying out the work of crossing the ridge.

The remaining load proved an easy burden for the united teams, and in a few minutes the heavy wagon was moving slowly up the path, the loud commands of the Peruvian drivers echoing up and down the valley with somewhat startling effect.

“As soon as we get to the summit,” said Jack to Plum, “you and I will go back and see if there is not some way to save the other wagon, even at the sacrifice of its load.”

“I s’pose we might throw off what nitrate there is left on it, and by hitching together all the chains and ropes we have—”

“I wonder what is wrong now,” exclaimed Jack, for the team had again stopped, though the wagon was not more than its length from the summit. To the drivers he shouted:

“Drive up a little further, so the wagon will stand without—”

Loud, angry cries stopped him in the midst of his speech.

Anxious to know what had caused another interruption in the advance, he hurried forward, to meet a most unexpected sight.

Drawn up in front of the team in the narrow path was a squad of Chilian soldiers, or bushwhackers, more properly speaking, for he knew they did not belong to the regular army.

The Peruvians were cowering by the side of the wagon and cattle, muttering over something in their native tongue which our hero did not understand.

“Ho, there, soldiers!” he called out, in his best Spanish, “what does this mean?”

“It means if you don’t get out of our path, Americanos, we will hew you down!”

“Don’t be too fast, señor captain,” Jack made bold to say, “this path is one of my own making, though if you will allow me to get my team to the—”

“Pitiful dog!” cried the Chilian, “Captain de Costa commands you to clear his way without any insulting words.”

Jack saw that it would be worse than useless to have any words with this imperious Chilian, who in his petty command felt more arrogant than a king on this throne. Accordingly he began in a respectful tone:

“If Captain de Costa will kindly allow us to drive to the summit we shall be able—”

“Americano dog! will you surrender?”

By this time the Peruvians had taken to their heels, and Jack and Plum stood alone in front of the pompous captain and legion.

Jack’s first thought was to boldly refuse the demand, knowing the other had no business to interfere with him, and to make such a resistance as he and his companion could. But single-handed, against such odds, he knew it would be folly.

“If you please, Captain de Costa, we two are but peaceful American boys, both of us engaged—”

“Will you surrender?” thundered the Chilian, advancing with uplifted sword, as if he would carry out his threat of hewing him down.

“We are offering no resistance to you, señor captain. If you will allow us to—”

At a motion from the Chilian leader his soldiers leaped forward, and Jack and Plum were quickly made prisoners.

The order was then given for the lads to be intrusted to a portion of troops under the command of a sergeant, and then the march down the pathway toward the nearest town was begun.

The last Jack saw of his team it was still standing just over the brow of the height, the patient oxen chewing their cuds as unconcerned as if the fortunes and the lives of their owners were not in the least endangered.

“What is going to be the end of this?” asked Plum, as they were marched along side by side.

“It is impossible to tell. I do not think it will be best for us to have much to say to each other if we wish to keep together. We must keep our eyes open for a chance to escape.”

Plum taking the hint, the friends walked along in silence until the journey seemed without end.

The soldiers kept up a continual run of conversation, Jack catching enough to know that the Chilian forces were gaining successes wherever they met the Peruvians. He also learned that the army of Bolivia was now their greatest concern, and that the latter was then on a march over the Andes to meet them.

At nightfall a halt was made under a spur of the mountains, but before the sun had tipped with gold the crest of the distant Andes the weary journey was resumed.

That day about noon they came in sight of a little up-country town, which the prisoners soon learned was known as Santa Rosilla. Its long, narrow streets bore a deserted appearance, save for the motley-coated soldiers passing to and fro, as if on guard.

The town bore every sign of a recent siege, while the indications were as strong that the inhabitants had been completely routed and killed or driven back into the mountains by their conquerors.

Straight down the grand plaza marched the soldiers with their captives, making their way toward the casa consistorial, or town house, above which flapped in the sleepy breeze the flag of Chili.

The door of the town house, which bore the marks of many bullets, was off its hinges, but the rooms within were secure enough for all prisoners of war that might fall into their hands in that isolated district, and thither our twain were marched.

To their delight, which they were careful to conceal, they were put into a room together, though under a strong guard.

“Looks so we were in for it,” said Plum, after they had been left by themselves for an hour or more.

“It was a hard set-back to my plans,” said Jack.

“I wonder what they will do with us,” ventured Plum, expressing the thought uppermost in our hero’s mind.

“From what I have overheard I should judge we were likely to be shot at the first opportunity.”

“’Pears to me you’re mighty cool about it. Will they dare to shoot us? We are not mixed up in their war, and it might make trouble for them in in the end, if I know anything.”

“They don’t stop to consider that. It is my opinion they would dare to do anything but meet an equal number of the enemy. It looks bad for us, Plum.”

“I wonder if we can’t dig out of here somehow? These walls don’t seem so awful thick.”

“Of course we must try and get out of this. The first thing to do will be to free our limbs. Can you loosen your bonds any?”

For the next ten minutes the boys were busy trying to free their hands from the ligatures which had been fastened in no uncertain way.

“It’s no use,” acknowledged Plum at last. “I believe mine grow tighter and tighter. Hark! I should think that soldier on guard in the hall would get tired of that everlasting tramping back and forth. I’ve a mind to tell him to stop.”

“Better not do it. I wonder if by standing on my shoulder you could look out of that window up there?”

“I have been thinking that same thing. Let’s try it.”

Naturally their attention had been attracted to a small window, which afforded light and ventilation for the room, but which was about ten feet from the floor.

Tied hands and feet, as they were, the boys tried many times to carry out their plan without avail, until it must have been near midnight when Plum said:

“It’s mighty aggravating. There must be lights on the streets, for I’ve seen their flash.”

“Let’s try once more. If I lie down perhaps you can get on my neck, after which I believe I can raise you to the window.”

This proved a most difficult feat, but after repeated attempts Plum succeeded in gaining the desired position, when Jack slowly straightened up, until he had brought his companion’s head on a level with the window, where by leaning against the wall he was enabled to hold him for a hasty look over the scene without.

Plum had barely gained his unsteady perch before he exclaimed in a tone of excitement:

“Oh, Jack! the town is on fire! Everything is burning up!”

At that moment the dull boom of a cannon reached their ears.

XIX. Chilians on Both Sides

“Looks as if the old town was being raided by some enemy,” declared Plum, after a short pause, during which another peal of the distant cannon awoke far and wide the dismal night.

Loud cries were now heard outside the town house, making the youths’ situation one of excitement. In the hall adjoining their prison the steady tramp of the sentry’s feet had suddenly ceased.

“How about the fire?” asked Jack, bracing himself more firmly against the wall under the weight of his companion.

Boom! boom! boom! rang sullenly on the scene before Plum could reply, and then the rattle of musketry succeeded and the hoarse shouts of men giving orders such as no one could understand in the wild confusion.

“The fire lifts higher and higher,” said Plum, as soon as a lull in the tumult allowed him to be heard by his companion. “It seems to be burning on the northeast corner of the town, and the wind is driving it down this way like a race horse. The plaza is full of soldiers.”

The cannonade soon became almost continual, and was fairly deafening.

“What will become of us?” asked Plum, showing his first sign of hopelessness.

“Is the window large enough to let us crawl out if our hands were free?” asked Jack.

“It may be; but it is crossed with bars of iron no man could break with his hands.”

“Take your last look and then come down.”

Plum took a hurried survey of the scene which he realized he might never look upon again, but his narrow orbit allowed of nothing more than what he had described.

The cannons were still thundering forth their loud-voiced peals of war, half drowned by the incessant rattle of the smaller arms in the hands of the town’s defenders.

In a moment Plum descended to the floor in a heap.

“Get on your feet if you can,” said Jack a moment later.

By resting against the wall, as his companion was doing, Plum Plucky soon stood beside him.

“I should like to know what we are to do in this condition. We are sure to be killed.”

“Hark! do you hear anything of the sentry now?”

“No; he went out to join the soldiers. I see him.”

“Then our way is clear. Now, Plum, I want you to brace yourself as best you can, and when I give the word throw all your weight against the door with me.”

“Going to try and break it down?”

“Yes; ready?”

“Ready.”

“Now then, together!”

The old door shook and creaked beneath their combined efforts, but it withstood the shock.

“Again—together!”

This time the whole building trembled, and the door creaked and groaned, but still defied them.

“Still again—together!”

But the third attempt, nor yet the fourth nor fifth cleared their pathway, though when both the boys were bruised from head to feet the rusty hinges suddenly gave away and they went headlong into the narrow hallway.

Jack struck upon top, and he was the first to gain his knees, as near an erect position as he could easily gain, and he began to crawl toward the open air, saying:

“Follow me, Plum.”

On the outer threshold they paused to take a hasty survey of the surroundings, soon satisfying themselves that a terrific battle was being waged at the upper end of the town.

“The quicker we get away the better,” said Jack, begining to move laboriously toward the grand plaza, with Plum close behind him.

In that slow, tedious way the two crossed the yard in front of the town house, and then steering for the cover of a line of shrubbery bordering on the west side of the plaza, they crawled as fast as they could in that direction.

The sound of the cannon was not heard so constant now, but the storm of the musketry had not seemed to cease to any extent.

What meant infinitely more to them, the firing was rapidly drawing nearer. The fire, too, of the burning town was growing brighter and brighter, even the plaza showing plainly under its vivid glare.

Upon reaching the shrubbery they stopped for a brief respite.

“Look, Jack!” exclaimed Plum, in a shrill whisper, “our prison is on fire! We didn’t get out any too soon.”

Jack had made the same discovery. He made no reply, his thoughts being busy in another direction.

An incendiary had kindled a fire at one end of the building and so fast did the flames increase and spread that while they watched them they sprang up and enveloped one whole side in a crimson sheet.

“We must get away from this place,” said Jack. “The two factions of war are coming this way on a run. It must be the captors of the town have met more than their match this time.”

Again the escaping couple began their slow retreat, now under cover of a dense growth reaching they knew not how far. Nor did that matter so long as it afford them shelter from their enemies.

Once, having gained a little summit from which they could look down on the exciting scene, they stopped to gaze back, their curiosity aroused by the wild medley of cries.

The town house was now all ablaze, the lurid fire feeding upon its walls lighting far the night scene, while throwing a weird glamor over the contending factions of war-crazed men, who had now both reached the further side of the plaza and temporally suspended hostilities.

There was a reason for this last, too, as explained by Jack’s words, as he analyzed the situation:

“They are Chilians on both sides, Plum!”

“Do you mean, Jack, that this attack on the Chilians of the town has been made by some of their own countrymen?”

“Yes; there has been some mistake made, which has cost many needless lives. What a painful surprise it must be to them!”

Jack afterwards learned that he had been right in his conjectures, and that through some unexplainable blunder one division of the Chilian army had been sent to capture the town already in possession of another portion.

Santa Rosilla was in the possession of the Chilians sure enough now!

But Jack and Plum dared not stop to see the outcome of this singular meeting between the armed forces, but improved every moment to get away from the ill-fated town.

XX. Preparations For Departure

Three days later, having actually worn off the bonds on their lower limbs by their long, painful journey on their hands and knees through the dense growth, until a friendly Peruvian lad finished their liberation, Jack and Plum entered de la Pama, two sorry-looking youths but still full of courage. Almost the first news they learned was that the St. Resa railroad was again without the men to run the train, which had been stalled for weeks. In fact, the engineer and his helper who had succeeded them, had not made one complete trip, the fireman having blown out the boiler soon after leaving De la Pama.

In this dilemma the officials hailed the appearance of the boys with unfeigned delight. But Jack was sorry to learn that it had been decided not to pay over thirty pistoles a month for his services.

“We might as well let the cars stand idle as to pay out all we can get for help. Then, too, the business is not going to be very good while this war lasts, señor.”

The pay was still big for that country, and Jack resolved to accept, though before doing so he asked: “What will you pay my fireman?”

“Twenty pistoles, señor. That is the best we can do. We can get plenty of men for that price.” “It doesn’t look so. But what do you say, Plum? That will bring you seventy-two dollars a month, if I reckon right. I will try it for awhile if you will go with me.”

“I’m with you.”

Most unexpected to them at the time they began, the “awhile” proved for a year. Jack had not dreamed he should stay so long, but his previous experience had left him penniless, and with his fixed determination to try again, he knew he would not be able to find so good an opportunity to earn the needed money to begin renewed operations. During those days Jack sent several letters to his folks and to Jenny. In return he received a letter from his father, stating that all was now going fairly well with the family and if he wanted to stay in South America he could do so. Mr. North also sent the information that Fowler & Company had gone into the hands of a receiver and there was no telling whether the business would be continued or not, and Jack need not expect any back pay from the concern.

From Jenny Jack heard not a word, much to his anxiety and dismay. The fact was that Jenny’s folks had moved to another town and she had not received Jack’s letters, and consequently did not know exactly where he was.

“I suppose she has forgotten all about me,” he thought, with a sigh. “Well, I suppose I ought to go back, but I hate to do it before I’ve managed to get some money together. There’s a fortune in that nitrate and I know it, and some day I’ll get hold of it.”

Very much to Jack’s surprise they were not molested very much by the bush-raiders, whose power seemed to have been checked by the advance of the opposing armies, for the war was still carried on, though in a sort of desultory manner, as if each side was afraid of the others. Jack could foresee that the Chilians were pretty sure to secure that portion of the country before they got through. Plum Plucky had stood by his friend all of this time, and they had met with some thrilling experiences, but come out of them safely.

Jack saved his money like a miser, and with undimmed faith in his ultimate success bought five more nitrate beds, to be laughed at by his friend.

“Should think you would want to look after ’em loads you have got over on the Andes,” Plum would frequently say.

Each time Jack remained silent.

“Say, Jack,” Plum would then invariably say, “don’t yeou s’pose ’em oxen are getting hungry by this time?”

Still the other held his peace.

Jack had not forgotten the mysterious island in the equally mysterious lake amid the Andes, and twice during the year his memory had been refreshed by startling accounts given of the place by different parties that had visited the valley. These men had given it the name of the “Devil’s Waters,” not very inappropriately.

At the end of the year, it now being certain that the Peruvians were losing their hold on the province which comprised the territory in which they were located, Jack said to his companion:

“I am almost sorry to say that I shall make my last trip to-morrow, Plum.”

“Going back to nitrates?” asked the other, showing but little surprise.

“Yes. I must get a cargo to America as soon as possible.”

“Should think you would want to. Guess I will stick to the old gal here a little longer. When I have got enough money to get out of this swamp in the way I want to I shall go back to old New England.

“I tell you there is no place like the Old Bay State. Yeou won’t think me a sneak for deserting yeou now, Jack?” dropping back into his old-time nasal drawl.

“Oh, no, of course not. In fact, I think you are doing just as I should if I were in your place. I will speak a good word for you to get my position as engineer. You can run the engine as well as I now.”

“Good for you, Jack. Now, how do you think of getting that stuff to the States?”

“About the same way I tried first, only I shall not try to go behind that spur of the Andes, as I did before.

“I can see my mistake now, though I believe that is the richest deposit I have, and I shall sometime make something out of it. I am going to get a cargo from the bed nearest to the railroad and get the company to freight it for me to the seaboard.”

“Then I shall see you occasionally, Jack.”

“Oh, yes. I shall not be far away.”

Jack was as good as his word, and the following day Plum Plucky proudly took his place as engineer, with a new fireman to help him.

Jack then began to carry out his scheme of getting a cargo of nitrate to his native land.

This time he obtained his supply of nitrate from a bed less than ten miles from the railroad, drawing it to the station with ox teams. With his better knowledge of the country he met with success in this part of the undertaking, and then the train carried it to the sea-coast for him at moderate rates.

Before this had been done he had bargained with a Peruvian captain of a merchantman to carry the cargo to Philadelphia.

This had proved the most difficult part of his arrangements, for with the existing war between the countries it was sometime before he could find a man willing to do it.

But he found one at last and the nitrate was eventually loaded on the vessel.

It was a proud, and yet an anxious, moment for Jack when he found everything in readiness to leave the harbor.

The captain had declared his intention of setting sail under cover of darkness, so as to escape an attack from a Chilian ship should one offer to dispute his passage.

That afternoon Jack saw Plum to bid him goodbye, feeling sorry to part with his honest friend.

The latter actually cried.

“Hang it, Jack! I’ve a mind to go with you. Think of me in this heathenish country and you among friends and rolling in wealth.”

“All but the wealth, Plum. But I shall be glad to have you go with me.”

“I thank you, Jack, but I mustn’t. I must stay here long enough to get the money to pay up the mortgage on dad’s farm, when I shall skip by the light of the moon. You may not find me here when you come back, Jack, but I wish you well.”

A little after sunset the Peruvian ship moved slowly out of the harbor of San Maceo, Jack watching the land as it receded from sight with a peculiar interest, and his mind ran swiftly back over the eventful time he had passed in that faraway land.

He had given the captain the last pistole he possessed, as he had been obliged to pay him in advance to get him to undertake the task, so he was again penniless. But he had no doubt he would have money enough as soon as he could get home and dispose of his cargo. Over and again he had figured out his profit, if it should prove saleable at the moderate price he had fixed upon it. Is it a wonder his thoughts were in a tumult? Is it strange that he found it difficult to make himself believe that at last after that long waiting, he was really homeward bound?

“How glad they will be to see me!” he thought. “And Jenny! She will not be expecting me. It has been so long since I left. Some of them may be—”

He was interrupted in his meditations by the report of a gun in the distance, and, glancing to the port, he discovered a ship coming up rapidly.

That there was something wrong in the appearance of the stranger was evident from the bustle and excitement which had suddenly sprung up among officers and crew, not one of whom spoke anything but Spanish.

All sail had been crowded on that the ship could possibly carry; but heavily loaded and at best a poor sailer, the new-comer continued to overhaul them at a startling rate.

Coming alongside of Jack finally, the captain said:

“We are lost, señor! I ought to lose my head for undertaking such a mad project.”

“It may not be as bad as you seem to think, señor capitan,” replied Jack, hoping to encourage the commander.

But all that he could say was in vain.

The Chilian warship, as the stranger really was, continued to keep up its firing, though the Peruvian vessel had not fired a gun.

Jack anxiously watched the approach of their pursuer, feeling that his fortune, if not his life, was at stake.

It is possible if the Peruvian had laid to and allowed the other to come up without the show of running away, that it might have been permitted to continue its course unmolested. And again it may not have been so.

At any rate the Peruvian captain held to his flight as his only hope of salvation, until at last a shot, better directed than the random firing so long kept up, struck the doomed merchantman fairly amidship.

The craft instantly lurched and trembled from bow to stern.

“She is sinking!” shrieked the captain. “Quick—to the boats!”

XXI. A Panic On Shipboard

A scene of the wildest description followed the frantic captain’s announcement and order. The sailors were panic stricken, and more than half of them plunged headlong into the sea.

The captain was scarcely less distracted than his men, and he only added to the helplessness of the situation by his words and actions.

Jack tried to pacify him by saying:

“Pardon me, señor capitan, but the ship will not sink at once if at all. You have plenty of time in which to save your lives.”

“But the Chilian! We shall be made prisoners of war. Heaven protect me! I was a fool to listen to you, Señor North.”

“It is too late to think of that now. It is your duty to see if something cannot be done to stop the ship’s leak.”

It was useless to try to reason with the Peruvian captain. He was sure the ship was going to sink, and seemed determined that she should.

Meanwhile the Chilian continued to draw nearer, though it had nearly stopped firing.

The trumpet-like tone of the commander rang over the water just as the terrified Peruvians lowered a boat and leaped headlong into it, that is, those who had not previously jumped into the sea.

Finding himself alone on the sinking vessel, which was going down fast, Jack answered the Chilian’s challenge:

“Ship ahoy! what do you want?”

“What ship is that?”

“The merchant ship, Santa Clara, Señor Captain, now sinking from the effects of your shot.”

“Lay to and I’ll come aboard.”

This command was not obeyed.

The doomed vessel was now lurching fearfully, and Jack knew that he could not leave it any too soon for his own safety of life. Fortunately the shore was not so far away but he believed he could reach it, and throwing off his outer garments, he leaped into the water.

The Peruvians were struggling in every direction, the boat having been upset by them in their mad endeavors to save themselves. Jack knew that the farther he got away from them and the quicker he did it, the better it would be for him. He left them in their furious, but futile, efforts to escape or drown, as their attempts for life deserved.

After swimming a short distance he looked back to find that he was just in season to witness the fate of the ship. He saw her make a sudden lurch forward, and then she seemed to right herself for a moment, but it was her death struggle, for with the next breath she went downward, quickly disappearing from sight forever.

“Another plan gone wrong,” thought Jack, “and again I am where I began.”

A less courageous youth than Jack North must have given up then, but with the stern determination of his nature not to give up, he resumed his swimming, reaching the land half an hour later.

“This is worse than before,” he said ruefully, as he viewed his drenched figure, “for I did save my coat then. Yes, and my cargo of nitrate is still on the mountain waiting for me. I think I will toss up a cent to see what I shall do next. No! come to think of it, I haven’t got the cent to do that!”

His first thought was to return to the machine shop in Tocopilla, but as De la Pama was nearer he decided to go there in the morning. “It is useless for me to remain here,” he reasoned, “I wonder how many of the Peruvians have escaped? They were a set of cowards anyway, and the captain the biggest fool of them all. I hope he will make good use of my money.”

Jack laid down supperless that night under the green blanket of a Peruvian forest, and he went on toward De la Pama the next morning breakfastless, thinking:

“There is one thing certain, I will not take Plum’s job from him. If he has no fireman, and will accept me, I will go as his helper.”

Though he did not seek immediately his friend, almost the first person he saw in town was Plum. It would be difficult to say which was the more surprised.

“What! not gone to the States, Jack?”

“No, Plum.”

“Something gone wrong, Jack, again?”

“About my usual luck, Plum. I am where I began—without a cent in my pocket,” and he quickly told the other what had befallen him since they had parted.

“It’s too bad, Jack, but I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I have what amounts to three hundred dollars that I’ve saved and every dollar of it is yours till you can pay it back.”

“I could not think of taking your hard earnings, Plum, for it is uncertain if I should ever be able to pay it back.

“I thank you from the bottom of my heart, but must look for work again.”

“Then you shall have my job, Jack. I had rather fire anyway; honest, Jack.”

“Thank you again, Plum, and it’s just like your generosity, but I cannot rob you of your situation. How does your fireman do?”

“Tip-top, I am sorry to say. To tell the truth, Jack, he does so well I am afraid he will get my job away from me. I wish you would take the lever again, Jack, and let me fire. I never had so good a time in my life as I did then.”

This was a little past noon, and a few minutes later Jack would be obliged to part with Plum, who must start on his return to St. Resa.

“There is one favor you can do me, Plum. If you will lend me money enough to buy a pair of oxen I will begin to team a cargo of nitrate down myself. I do not feel you will take much risk in letting me have that amount.”

“I only wish you would take more, Jack.”

“I think I have hit on a better plan this time,” said Jack, as he took the loan. “I am going to draw enough for a shipload down on the Bolivian coast and house it there until an American ship comes into harbor.

“I may have to wait a long time, but it will be best in the end.”

With his oldtime vivacity Jack set out on his new undertaking. He soon found a yoke of oxen to his liking, and finding he had money enough he bought a second pair. Then he started for the mountain ridge where he had so unceremoniously left his two loads of nitrate so long before.

He did not expect to recover the one that had gone over the precipice, though it had not moved from its singular position. To his joy he found the other just where he had left it. The rust had gathered on the iron-work and the sun had discolored the wood, but the wagon was in running order, and as the path from this point was generally descending he had no trouble in drawing the load, though his team consisted of one yoke of oxen less than before.

It would be tedious to follow him in his long, lonely journeys to Cobija, on the coast of Bolivia, where he stored his nitrate until he had there enough for a ship’s cargo. During the time his cattle lived by feeding on the grass that grew on the more fertile places along the route, while he lived on whatever food he could pick up, sleeping at night under his cart.

He had no further use for his oxen, so he sold them at the first favorable opportunity, realizing enough for them to pay back the money he had borrowed of his friend, with a fair rate of interest. Surely he had made a more auspicious beginning this time.

XXII. The Fate of Plum Plucky

It had been three months since Jack had seen Plum, so he resolved to go to De la Pama and see his friend before making another move in his venture. But he had not left town before he was surprised to meet his friend, who had come to Cobija in search of him.

“Lost my job and so I thought I would hunt you up,” said the latter, bluntly. “Got a stunning piece of news for you, too. There is an American brig ship just above here at the next town, and I made bold to ask him to take your cargo to New York. He says he will do it for a snip in the profits.”

This was a bit of news worth hearing, and in the exuberance of his spirits, Jack flung his cap high into the air and threw his arms about the neck of his friend.

“At last I believe my dream will be fulfilled, but I shall never forget it was you who helped to accomplish it. But I want to pay the money I owe you.”

“Not yet, Jack; better keep it awhile longer. I know it is safe. You may need it you know. Besides I am going to the States with you. I have got enough of this country. The war grows hotter and hotter up St. Resa way. I am homesick!”

Jack lost no time in seeing the captain of the brig, a man named Hillgrove, and who gave our hero a most cordial greeting. He had been in Bouton daring his adventurous career, though he could give Jack no information of his friends. He knew John Fowler, the great engine builder, and that simple fact gave him confidence in the young speculator, who must have presented a not very favorable appearance to him.

Jack’s long exposure to the tropical sun had fairly blackened his countenance, his hair was long and unkempt, while his clothes were sadly in need of repair, or more truthfully new ones to take their place. But there was an honest frankness in his manner, and Captain Hillgrove entered into the spirit of the venture with a hearty good-will. The bluff old sea dog, too, true to his nature, was anxious to get out to sea again as soon as possible.

“I must and will get out of this infernal country within a week,” he said. “So I will run down to Cobija as soon as possible, and if your nitrates is on board by that time the old Elizabeth will be good-natured.”

Plum having decided to go home with Jack, it was necessary for him to return to De la Pama for his money.

“I will be back sure, Jack, on the third, if not before,” were his parting words.

Captain Hillgrove ran into Cobija the next morning, when the loading of the nitrates was begun with as little delay as possible, Jack feeling in the best of spirits as he superintended the work.

But on the eve of the third day, Jack having got the last of the cargo aboard a little after noon, to his anxiety, Plum Plucky had not appeared.

“He will surely come before morning, unless something has happened to him, for I never knew Plum to break his word,” said Jack to the skipper.

“Can’t wait any longer!” declared captain Hillgrove the following morning, when it was found that Plum was still missing. “We shall all be confiscated by these infernal Spaniards.”

Jack was now really alarmed about his friend, whom he believed had been waylaid and robbed. But he could not think of leaving without making a search for him.

“I am going to start for De la Pama to look for him, but you may expect me back by sunset.”

“If you are not I shall set sail without you, for I have seen some of the Chilian spies around today.”

“You need not wait any longer than sunset,” said Jack, who could not blame the other for his impatience.

Losing no more time, Jack mounted a fleet pony that he had hired at an exorbitant price, and set out for De la Pama at a furious pace.

Toward noon he was gladdened by the sight of an inhabitant of the town whom he knew, and who was on his way to Cobija.

Halting the Peruvian he inquired of him in regard to Plum. This fellow, who knew Plum well, replied that he had seen him in town, and that he had left two days before. Upon second thought, he volunteered the startling information that news had come of an American being waylaid and killed by a party of bush-raiders a dozen miles east of De la Pama!

“Did the young engineer start directly for Cobija?” asked Jack anxiously.

“No; he went toward the east, saying he wished to go to Don de Estuaray before he went to Cobija.”

This was sufficient to arouse the fears of Jack, who procured a fresh horse and put on as rapidly as possible across the wild country toward the estancia of Don de Estuaray.

All the afternoon he rode as fast as he could, but he saw nothing of his missing friend. In his anxiety he halted on top of an eminence of land commanding a wide view of the surrounding country, to scan the lonely scene.

His attention was finally caught and held by the flight of one of those enormous vultures of the Andes, which was descrying a circle in the air directly over the valley at his feet. Smaller and smaller grew the orbit of this dark bird while he watched, until suddenly it ended its gyrations and swooped swiftly down out of sight.

Then a second took its place in the air, soon following it to the earth, in turn succeeded by a third, and that by another, and so on, until a dozen had come and gone in this mysterious way.

With a dread foreboding at his heart, Jack rode forward into the isolated valley, when, from a small opening in the centre of the place the sudden whir of wings and the rapid flight of many dark bodies told him the secret of it all.

He found what he expected a moment later—the bones of a human being picked clean of all flesh by the vultures, while scattered here and there were shreds and pieces of the garments worn by the unfortunate person.

He found enough of the clothes to know only too well that they belonged to his lost friend Plum Plucky, and tears filled his eyes as he turned away to shut out the sad spectacle.

“This is fearful!” he murmured. “Poor, poor fellow!”

At this very moment, though of course unknown to him, tired of waiting for him any longer, Captain Hillgrove was sailing out of Gobija harbor, anxious to reach the open sea before night should set in.

XXIII. Jenny

The vultures were still screaming over his head, venting their rage over being disturbed in their feast, as Jack hastily brushed the tears from his eyes and looked more clearly around him.

“Poor Plum!” he exclaimed, “this is indeed a sad fate. It seems a certain fatality for any one to be my friend. But I suppose you were killed for your money. It seems only decent that I should give your bones human burial.”

With his knife and the stirrups taken from the trappings of his horse, Jack hollowed out a spot to receive all that was left of the body he had found.

By the time he had finished the sad task it was quite dark in the forest, so he knew he must get away from the lonely place as soon as possible, if he valued his own life.

With a last farewell look at the wildwood grave which he was never to see again, he rode away through the wilderness.

He soon found, however, that his horse was so spent that it must have rest before going much further.

As impatient as he was to reach Cobija, wondering what Captain Hillgrove would think of his prolonged absence, he yielded to the unavoidable and stopped awhile in the heart of the forest.

It was broad daylight when he rode into De la Pama on a used up horse and himself quite fagged out.

But notwithstanding his condition, he felt obliged to push on for Cobija, dreading lest he should find Captain Hillgrove already gone. Accordingly remounting the pony he had previously ridden, he started for the sea coast at a rapid gait.

The wiry little animal made a remarkable record, but he might as well have been on the road another day, as it seemed, for he found his worst fears realized.

Captain Hillgrove had sailed!

Whither should he turn now? What should he do? Never in his life had he felt so lonely and so near despair as he did at that time. The indomitable pluck which had carried him through so many trials began to leave him. Then, he rallied, exclaiming:

“I will earn money enough to take me back to the United States on the first ship that comes this way. Perhaps with a sample of my nitrate I———”

He suddenly felt a heavy hand laid on his shoulder, and turning he was both astonished and pleased to find one of the seaman of the Elizabeth standing beside him!

“Ahoy, shipmate!” greeted the sailor, giving the true nautical pitch, “so I’ve follered you into port at last, though it’s a sorry cruise I’ve had.”

“Captain Hillgrove!” cried Jack, elated. “Where is he?”

“Outside, shipmate. He durstn’t stay inside longer, and he sent me to keep a lookout for you. I was giving you up when I clapped my old watchdogs on you. You are ready to go out to the Elizabeth in my boat?”

Jack’s reply was an exclamation of joy and a more fervant grip of the honest old tar’s hand.

“Captain Hillgrove had not deserted me after all!”

Without further trouble or delay the couple made the trip to the waiting vessel, when Jack was greeted by the bluff old skipper:

“Bless my eyes! but I had given you up to old Davy Jones.”

“And I thought you had left me in the lurch,” said Jack frankly, as he cringed under the grip given his hand by the other.

“I did not dare stay in Cobija longer, my hearty. If I had done so nary a bit of your dust would have been left on the Elizabeth. Bless my eyes! but I’m just overflowing and roaring glad—run up the yards lads. Lively, lads! put the old Elizabeth on her wings. We must be a long way from here afore sun-up.”

Exciting scenes followed, of which Jack was a spectator and not an actor. For the present his work was done, and he had time now to ponder upon his ups and downs, hardly able to believe that at last he was really on his homeward journey. He felt far more confident in the care of bluff Captain Hillgrove than in that of the fickle Peruvians.

Nor was his confidence misplaced, for the night passed without anything occurring to interrupt their progress, and when the sun rose the following morning it found them many leagues from land, and bowling merrily on their way.

Captain Hillgrove listened to his account of the fate of poor Plum Plucky with a feeling of sorrow, though he had never met the young American.

Jack’s return home was something of a triumph, though he was saddened by the loss of his companion during those trying scenes he could not put from his mind, while his longings to reach home were tinged with those forebodings one cannot escape who has been away so long, and the nearer he approached his native land the more ominous became those feelings!

Were his parents still living and well? Was—was Jenny still true to him? What had she thought of his long, weary years of absence? Until then he had not realized that he had been away so long.

At last the old Elizabeth was safely moored at her dock.

Though Captain Hillgrove was anxious to know what the result of their speculation was going to be, he allowed Jack time to hunt up his relatives and friends before the nitrate was moved from the ship’s hold.

I cannot begin to explain the joyous reception accorded our hero at his home, for many had given him up as dead.

With a tremulous tongue he asked for Jenny dreading, doubting, expecting he knew not what; and then his cup of happiness overflowed at the thrice-welcome news of her well-being and faithfulness to him, and that she had just returned to her native town.

Jenny was not only living and well, but she had never given up looking for him, believing he would some day return to her.

The sweet happiness of the meeting between the pair is too sacred to be revealed.

When the first transport of his reception home had passed, Jack proceeded to put on the market his ship-load of nitrate, to be met with another rebuff in the checkered wheel of fortune.

He could find no one with faith in the virtue of his product brought from the wilds of South America.

Captain Hillgrove began to think he had made a profitless voyage, though be it said to his credit, he stood ever by Jack.

The latter met the words of scorn uttered against him with his characteristic good-nature. Some of the nitrate was put in the hands of competent chemists, and still more with practical agriculturists.

“I shall win out,” said Jack confidently.

“I trust so with all my heart,” answered Jenny.

At last some favorable reports came in and then the load of nitrates was sold at a fair profit. Of the amount Jack got several hundred dollars, the rest going to the captain of the Elizabeth.

XXIV. Jack and the Ocelot

The one most satisfied with the result of this first cargo of nitrate was Captain Hillgrove. He had not expected great returns, but found himself so well paid that he was willing to return for another load as soon as possible.

Jack felt confident of his ultimate success. Already he was the possessor of a fair sum, and with the apparently unlimited deposits of nitrate now in his possession, he believed he could easily secure a fortune. As soon as he should get back to Peru he resolved to get possession of other nitrate beds before the price should advance.

But with that far-seeing sagacity of his he made no talk of what he had done or what he had in mind. Quietly he went about his work, engaging several ships to go to South America with him, prepared to return with loads of the precious substance. He fitted up an office at home and put a trusty man in the place to begin to work up a business. He had fondly looked forward to giving this place to Plum Plucky, but stern fate had decreed different plans.

Jenny was enthusiastic over her Jack’s plans, and that they might not be separated so long again she consented to their marriage, which took place before he started on his second trip to Peru, and she accompanied him.

Now that Jack had really got started in his speculations, he studied how best he might promote his interest. His young wife going with him to South America, he resolved to locate in that country until he had got fairly under control the gigantic business he intended to build up.

While successful in his nitrate ventures, he still preserved the manuscript he had picked up in the convict cell on the island of Robinson Crusoe, and he looked forward to the time when he should be able to visit the strange lake in the Andes with means to reach its mysterious island of buried treasure.

So at last, accompanied by a party of surveyors and explorers, armed with papers which would make him the owner of the whole region as soon as the boundaries could be fixed, he started for the place.

He had told his real object to no one, knowing that to do so would be to ruin his prospects without benefiting any one permanently.

He had no difficulty in leading the way to the spur of the Andes where he had met with his thrilling experience with the jaguars, and then the party started for the rocky ridge overlooking the niche in the mountains holding the Devil’s Waters.

It was a route that Jack had traveled several times, and feeling in the best of spirits, he set off on a galop, on the pony he was riding.

“Poor Plum!” he murmured, as he rode along. “How I wish he was a live to enjoy this with me.”

On and on went our hero until he came to where there was a break in the trail. He was absorbed in thought at the time and did not notice that his pony turned to the left instead of the right.

The way seemed easy, and presently the pony set off on a galop, which soon brought Jack out of his revery.

“Hullo! where am I going?” he asked himself, and brought his steed to a halt. Then he gazed around in perplexity. “I declare I must be lost!”

With the memory of what had happened when he had been lost before, Jack lost no time in turning back. But soon he became bewildered, and brought his steed to a standstill a second time.

“What does this mean, Firefly?” he asked of the pony, but the animal could not answer.

Jack heaved a sigh and then drew a pistol he carried.

“I’ll fire a shot—that will attract the attention of the others,” he reasoned. “What a dunce I was to get lost! I surely make a fine leader!” Throwing up the pistol he discharged it. Hardly had he done so when his pony started to bolt. Away dashed the steed under some trees and then through a mass of vines, and Jack was thrown to the ground, striking on his head as he fell,—and then his senses forsook him.

How long he laid where he had fallen he did not know exactly but when he came to his senses, it was to find darkness around him. There was no rain, but heavy clouds filled the air and a heavy breeze filled the woods around him. He got up slowly, to make certain that no bones were broken, and then looked around for his pony. The animal had disappeared and could not be found. His pistol was also gone.

“Now I am surely in a pickle,” reasoned Jack. “The question is, what am I to do next?”

He knew his party must have gone on long before this. He would have to find them in some way. But how?

Not relishing a stay in the bushes he started for higher ground. He had not gone a dozen rods when he found himself at the edge of a ravine, lined with tall trees and vines.

“I certainly did not come that way,” he said to himself. “But beyond is higher ground and I had better go up than down.”

Thus reasoning, he looked around for some means of getting over the ravine. A number of vines grew across, and he determined to test them and if they were strong enough, to use them as a rope for getting across.

The vines appeared to be as firm as a cable, and without giving the matter a second thought he launched himself forth and started to the other side of the cut in the forest.

He had progressed less than two yards when he felt one end of the vines giving way. He tried to turn back, but it was too late, and down he went.

Some heavy bushes broke his fall somewhat, but he continued to go down and down, until with a dull thud he landed on a mass of soft dirt. He was unharmed and soon arose to his feet, to gaze around in fresh dismay.

He had landed in an opening or cave, and presently went down into it still further. Then, as he picked himself up, he heard a sudden low growl, that filled him with fear. He strained his eyes and made out a small animal, which proved to be the cub of an ocelot.

He followed its course to a litter of leaves and straining his glance in that direction made out two other cubs.

They were too small to be dangerous. Plum had told him that there were very few ocelots in that vicinity and these rather cowardly, unless attacked or enraged.

Jack looked hurriedly around. The parent ocelot was not in evidence. The baby cub he had stumbled over, however, was making a great outcry, and our hero decided he would not linger any longer than was necessary.

He got under the hole he had fallen through. It was not accessible by climbing, for the walls of the cave were perfectly perpendicular and came nowhere near the central aperture.

Jack reached up and caught at the dangling end of the broken vine. It sustained one hard pull, but, as he set his full weight, it tore up roots and all, bringing down a shower of dirt and gravel.

About eight feet over his head the youth made out an exposed root of the tree. It ran out of the solid dirt a few inches, looped, and was again solidly imbedded.

If he could reach this, he could grasp higher pieces of roots that showed plainly, and easily draw himself to terra firma.

Our hero went back to the extreme end of the cave. The young cubs set up outcries of affright as he passed near them, but he paid no attention to them.

He braced for a run and a jump to reach the piece of root that was the bottom rung of a natural ladder to liberty.

Poised on one foot, Jack stood motionless in some dismay. The entrance to the cave was suddenly darkened. A great heavy body dropped through. The mother ocelot landed on four feet on the cave floor with a terrific growl.

She ran first to her crying cubs, nosed them affectionately, and then turned with low, ominous growlings.

Jack saw the beast’s eyes fix themselves upon him. They glowed with fire and fury. Its collar ruffled and its white teeth showed.

Jack had not so much as a stick to defend himself with. He had loaned his hunting knife to a friend when they first started and his pistol had been dropped in the woods.

In his pocket was a small pocket knife. He was groping for this when the ocelot, that had for a minute or two stood perfectly motionless, made a forward movement.

It was not a spring or a glide, but a rush. Jack knew why they called this species the Honey Eater. Its paws were enormous and armed with long curved sharp pointed claws.

He was hedged in. The beast, still advancing, reared on its hind feet.

Its forepaws were extended and whipping the air. Jack knew that one contact would tear the bark from the toughest tree. He mechanically seized the first object his groping fingers met in his coat pocket.

It was one of two condiment bottles that he had brought from the last camp. This was the one containing pepper.

In a desperate sort of a way Jack discovered this. He tore off the top of the bottle.

It was all that he could do to stay the course of the determined animal.

As the ocelot thrust out one formidable paw to tear its victim into its clasp, Jack flung the contents of the pepper bottle squarely into its eyes.

XXV. In the Quicksands

Jack ducked down and dodged the ocelot, and got past the animal. He could do this now, for the whole contents of the pepper bottle had gone squarely into the eyes of the beast.

The effect was indescribable. The animal gave a frightful roar, dropped to the floor, and, rolling over and over, tore frantically with its paws at its blinded, smarting eyes.

The cubs, excited and frightened by the uproar, joined in the chorus. They waddled around, getting in our hero’s way, and by their cries arousing the mother from her own distress.

She got upright, and seemed to spot Jack. Her advance, however, was clumsy and at fault, and the youth had time to get out of her way.

A second and a third rush she made at him. The last time one paw struck Jack’s coat sleeve and ripped it from place.

“This is getting serious,” murmured the lad. “Each time she comes swifter and surer. I must get out of here, now or never.”

Jack drove the cubs to their litter, and poked them with his foot. They set up a frantic uproar. This was just what he wanted. The mother flew towards her offspring.

The moment that she did so, Jack glided to the opposite wall of the cave.

He made a sharp run for the opening overhead, calculated poise and distance nicely, and landed with success.

He grabbed the rounding root. It held like iron, but his feet were dangling, and as he swayed there the big ocelot brushed by them on the hunt for the intruder.

Jack held firmly to the root and swung up his other hand. He caught at a higher tree root. Now he had a double hold.

He knew that the ocelot might come after him even up there, and lost no time in climbing from root to root. At last his head projected through the mesh of verdure into clear daylight. Jack lifted himself to solid ground and leaned against the tree trunk, out of breath and perspiring.

“That was action,” he panted. “Will the beast come after me? No—but something else may. Oh, the mischief!”

The roars and growlings down in the cave seemed to have attracted outside attention. Jack turned sharply, at the sound of crackling branches and rustling leaves at a densely-verdured spot near at hand.

There burst through the greenery a new enemy. This was an ocelot larger than the one he had just escaped from.

“That is the head of the family, sure,” thought Jack. “It’s a race, now.”

The new feature in the incident came straight for our hero, with bristling muzzle and fiery eyes. Jack started down the edge of the ravine.

It crumbled so that he could not make very rapid progress. To turn aside into the jungle meant to fight his way through thick, thorny bushes. To leap down into the dry water-course was even worse. There, as he knew, the spongy, shifting sand bottom would prevent even the progress of a decent walk.

Jack glanced back over his shoulder. The big ocelot, more sure-footed than himself, was following him up resolutely.

Jack took the first tree he came to. It was a dead one. There were lower branches within reach, and he swung himself up to its first crotch readily. The ocelot did not pause. It started up the tree without delay. Jack armed himself with a piece of a thick limb. Reaching down, as the beast got about four feet away, he delivered a smart whack directly across its snout.

The animal issued a terrific snort. Its eyes blazed madly. A second blow with the club brought the blood, but it kept on climbing.

Jack knew that it would be folly to tempt to battle at any closer quarters. He stood on a dead limb about twenty feet from the ground.

The limb was as thick as his arm, and over thirty feet long. It ran clear across the ravine, and a discovery of this fact gave Jack an idea.

He planned to go out to the far end of the limb, swing from its extremity and drop to the ground, landing on the ether bank of the cut.

The ocelot could not get hold or balance to venture as far out on the limb as the lad dared to go. Jack calculated that the time it lost in getting down to the ground again, would enable him to meantime put a considerable distance between himself and the enemy.

The lad sat astride the dead tree branch and began to walk himself outward from the main trunk of the tree.

The ocelot reached the crotch, surveyed Jack with a savage growl, and carefully planting its feet, started out after him.

Its progress was slow. Jack hitched himself along more rapidly. The branch began to creak. Our hero doubted if it would sustain their double weight. However, he trusted to the wary instinct of the ocelot, which kept coming right forward. Jack was about eight feet from the end of the branch when it gave a very ominous crack. In fact, he saw the white splinters show where it joined the tree.

He swung both feet to one side of the limb, held on only by his fingers, and planned to get to its end hand over hand.

Snap! Jack hurried progress, but it was no use. He saw the ocelot crouch and hug the limb. It gave way at its base. Jack let go. He landed directly on the smooth, sandy bottom of that portion of the ravine.

He struck the ground upright, squarely with both feet. Glancing quickly at the tree, he saw that the branch had whipped right down against the trunk.

The limb had not entirely broken loose, but swayed from several sustaining wood filaments. The ocelot, still hugging the limb, was clawing frantically at the main trunk of the tree to get a new hold there to keep from a tumble.

“It won’t do to stop, I see that,” murmured Jack. “Ugh! what kind of a mushy mess have I got into?”

Jack looked down at his feet. They had sunk into the sand and were covered to the ankles. With the greatest difficulty he pulled out one foot.

The instant he put it down again in a new spot, however, it sank afresh. He released the other. This threw his weight on a single foot, which went down half way to the knee.

It was not ten feet to the bank of the ravine. Jack lost all interest in the ocelot as he thrilled at a startling discovery.

“Quicksand!” he breathed hastily. “There is not a moment to lose!”

Our hero tugged to get the sunken foot free. He succeeded. Then, half-dancing about, he threw himself flat.

His idea was to make a hurried scramble for the bank on hands and knees. But he uttered a cry of the greatest alarm as his hands went down into the treacherous mass clear to the wrists.

It took a great effort to get upright again. By the time he had done so, Jack realized that he was in a most serious and critical situation.

He was sunk now clear to the knees in a weaving, shifting mass. It circled his imprisoned limbs like great moving ropes, pulling him downward with a suction force that was tremendous.

The youth uttered a grasp of real horror. He could not budge either limb. As he sank to the thighs, he gave himself up for lost.

He saw that no help of any kind whatever was at hand. He knew that the camp of the men who had come with him must be near. He raised his voice to a desperate pitch.

He let out a series of the most piercing yells. But his heart sank, as from the neighboring jungle there instantly arose a mocking imitation from the throats of several parrots.

They drowned out his cries for help. Jack shuddered as the shifting sands wound about his waist. He drew up his tingling fingers with a shock as the mass swept them in ominous, warning contact.

“It is the last of me,” thought Jack, as tears of despair came to his eyes. “Jenny and the folks will never know my fate!”

Jack looked up at the dark sky, sick at heart, but trying to resign himself to the terrible fate that hung over him.

His glance shifted to the tree. He instinctively dodged his head to one side as he did so. Something spirited was happening there.

The ocelot had got a clutch on the main tree trunk, now. As it let go of the dangling limb, however, this parted under the strain.

Its small end struck the ground, and it swung out, coming for Jack and threatened to crush him.

The limb fell with a crash, the big end just reaching the west side of the ravine. Its centre grazed our hero’s shoulder.

“I am saved!” cried Jack.

He threw one arm tightly around the limb, then the other. Now he was clinging to a natural bridge spanning the ravine from one side to the other.

Jack held on and tugged hard to draw himself up from this quicksand bath.

It was hard work. Finally he got one limb free, then the other. They were numb, and felt like pieces of lead.

Jack was so exhausted with the effort that, crawling on top of the limb, he lay there lengthwise, almost exhausted.

XXVI. A Night in the Jungle

It was a good quarter of an hour before Jack felt like making another move. As he lay on the log he kept a lookout for the ocelots, but neither of the beasts appeared, the larger having gone to the cave-like opening to learn what was the matter with its mate.

“I must get away from this vicinity,” thought our hero, and at last started off.

He scarcely knew in what direction to turn, for the running away of his pony and his adventures with the wild beasts and in the quicksands had completely bewildered him.

“I’d give a good round sum to be back with our party,” he thought, as he pushed his way through the jungle. “I wonder if they are out searching for me?”

At last he had to rest again, and thinking himself safe for the time being he set about cleaning his hands and face, and also his outfit.

“This is certainly treasure hunting with a vengeance,” he mused. “I think I would have done better had I stuck to the nitrates. Maybe I’ll lose my life and the vultures will pick my bones, just as they did poor Plum’s.”

It made our hero more dismal than ever to think of how Plum had departed, and he was very sober as night drew on and he still found himself alone and with no idea of where he was.

“I’ll have to stay here alone in the dark,” he said, half aloud. “That won’t be pleasant, but it can’t be helped.”

Soon it was so dark that to advance further would have been foolish.

Accordingly Jack came to a halt, and looked around for some means of making himself comfortable for the night.

He did not deem it wise to remain on the ground, where some wild beast might leap upon him, and so looked for some wide-spreading tree among whose branches he might rest in peace.

At length he found a tree to his liking and having taken a final look around, ascended to a number of the upper branches.

Here there was a sort of natural platform, where he might lie without much danger of falling to the ground.

It was now pitch dark, the clouds obscuring the stars in the heavens. He was very hungry but had absolutely nothing with which to gratify his appetite.

“I’ll have to get something for breakfast,” he reasoned. “If I don’t I’ll be likely to starve to death.”

It was but natural that Jack should find sleep difficult, and it was a good two hours before he went off soundly. When he awoke it was with a start.

Jack listened intently, for he realized that some movement at the foot of the tree had awakened him. He tried to look downward, but the darkness and the leaves hid everything from view. He waited with bated breath and soon heard a faint scratching. That some wild animal was at the foot of the tree he had no doubt.

“I hope it doesn’t try to come up,” he thought. “If it does, what am I to do?”

He did not dare to make a noise, and so remained silently on guard. The minutes went by slowly, until a good hour had passed. The noises below continued but that was all.

“Well, even if the beast can’t get up it evidently intends to tree me,” thought Jack, dismally.

Sleep was out of the question, and rather impatiently the youth waited for the coming of dawn.

At last came a faint light in the east and at last daylight was at hand.

For some time Jack had heard no further noises below him and he fondly hoped the thing on the ground—whatever it was—had gone away. But now the noise was repeated, and then came another sound that made him start in wonder and anticipation.

“Can it be possible!” he murmured, and began to climb down the tree with all speed. Soon he reached the lower branches, and looking downward saw his pony resting directly under him!

“Blind luck!” he cried. “And I thought it was a wild beast! How foolish I was not to come down and take a look!”

Not to scare the pony, Jack called out softly, at which the steed pricked up its ears. Then our hero slid down the tree to the ground and caught the pony by the head. It did not offer to run away, but whinnied with evident satisfaction.

It gave Jack great pleasure to find the pony again, and he felt far less lonely than he had during the night. He mounted into the saddle, and, guided by the sun turned in the direction where he thought the mountain trail might lie.

It was a dull day, a peculiar smoky air filling the jungle.

From a distance came the cry of wild birds, but that was all.

Jack journeyed for a good two hours, and then came to what looked like another ravine. But the banks were not so steep as before and he had but little difficulty in going down one side and getting up the other.

“Well, I never!”

This was the cry that burst from his lips half an hour later. A moment before he had realized that the surroundings looked familiar. Now, on the ground before him, he saw his lost pistol, shining among the grass and leaves.

He lost no time in securing the weapon. It was ready for use and with great satisfaction he placed it in his pocket.

“Now I’ve got something with which to defend myself,” he reasoned. “It may not be as good as a gun, but it is better than nothing.”

Onward he went once more, stopping once to get some handsful of berries which he knew were good to eat, and then again for a drink of water for himself and his steed. He had left his former trail, fearful of going in a circle once more,—a common experience of those traveling in a dense forest.

By noon Jack was more than hungry and he decided to shoot something and cook it for a meal. He kept his eyes open, and when some plump birds came close, brought down two with ease. Then a fire was lit, and he spitted the birds and broiled them to his satisfaction. He took his time over the meal, allowing his pony to graze in the meanwhile. Close at hand was a spring of cold, mountain water and at this he quenched his thirst, and the pony did the same.

“There, that makes me feel better,” said the youth to himself. “It will last me until nightfall, and by that time I ought to be able to find the others of the party, or gain some regular trail which leads to somewhere.”

So speaking Jack started to get into the saddle once more. As he did so, he heard a rustling in the leaves of some bushes behind the spring. The pony gave a violent snort and gave a side step, which threw our hero to the ground.

“Whoa there, Firefly!” he called out. “Whoa, I say!”

But instead of quieting down, the pony became more violent and it was impossible for Jack to hold the steed. The pony broke away and like a flash whirled around and disappeared once more into the jungle.

Somewhat bewildered, Jack stood up and gazed around him.

“What can this mean?” he asked himself. The next instant he saw the reason for the pony’s extreme fright. A snake had appeared, coming rapidly over the rocks. It was ten or twelve feet long and as thick as a man’s arm. It was hissing viciously and had its glittering eyes fastened full upon our hero!

XXVII. Jack and the Big Snake

It was no wonder that Jack was both startled and alarmed. The snake was certainly powerful, and the youth knew that many of the reptiles of that vicinity were poisonous. A sting might mean death, and if the snake should wind itself about him, he might be strangled until his breath was gone, never to return.

By instinct more than reason he leaped to one side. At this the snake, hissing louder than ever, did likewise. Then Jack made a wild leap into the air, caught a low-hanging tree branch, and hauled himself upward.

For the time being our hero was clear of the snake, but he felt far from comfortable. He perched himself on the limb and watched the reptile closely. It whipped this way and that over the ground as if in high anger over missing its intended prey.

Thus several minutes passed. The snake circled the tree three times and then began to come up with a quickness that chilled Jack to the bone. There was no help for it, and pulling his pistol, the youth blazed away at the snake. The first shot took no effect, but the second hit the reptile fairly in the body. It whipped around its head for a moment, then came forward as before.

Jack was as far out on the limb as he could get, and now, as the snake came forward, he blazed away a third and fourth time. Then he let himself drop to the ground.

As he did this, the reptile thrashed around wildly in the tree, hitting one limb after another with its tail. Then it came to the ground in a heap, writhing horribly in its death agonies. Jack had wounded it fatally, but the body would continue to move until sundown, if not longer. When the scare was over the youth found himself bathed in a cold perspiration and trembling as if with the ague. He realized that he had had a narrow escape, and thanked providence that the snake was dead.

Jack did not remain in that vicinity long, but set at once to work to find his pony. Fortunately the animal had not gone far on this occasion and a call soon brought the steed to the youth’s side. Then Jack hopped into the saddle once more.

“Gracious! what a lot of adventures I am having!” he murmured, as he again rode along. “I hope I don’t have any more.”

On and on through the forest rode Jack, gradually gaining higher ground. The sun was breaking through the smoky air and this did something towards raising his spirits.

A good two miles covered, and our hero came out in a clearing some distance above the jungle. Here he could get a tolerable view of the surrounding country and he looked eagerly for some trace of his party. To the southward he made out what he took to be the smoke of a camp-fire, but that was all.

“I may as well turn in that direction,” he reasoned. “Where there is a fire there must be human beings. And as the war is now at an end it isn’t likely that they will harm me.”

For some distance the new route was an easy one, but then it became rougher and rougher, until riding was all but impossible. At some points he had to dismount and lead the pony. Once both went into a rocky hollow, Jack barking a shin and the pony skinning a knee.

“I hope this doesn’t last very far,” thought the youth. The roughness continued a quarter of a mile, when he came out on a beautiful grassy plain, at the rear of which he saw a thatched house and a small garden enclosure containing a score or more of chickens.

As he approached the house an old man came forth to meet him. He viewed Jack with astonishment, for visitors in that lonely spot were rare. “Where does the most noble señor come from?” he asked, bowing low.

“I came from the town far below here,” answered Jack. “I have lost my way,” and then as well as he was able he described the road he wished to find.

“The Americano señor is a long distance from that road,” said the native.

“Can you guide me to it?” questioned the youth, eagerly. “I will pay you well for your services.”

At the mention of pay the native showed an increased interest. He was naturally a lazy fellow, but the promise of a Peruvian half dollar made him hustle to take Jack on his way. He too had a pony, and soon the pair set off, across the plateau and then through a sparingly grown forest, where some of the trees were of enormous height.

“What had made the air so smoky?” questioned Jack, as they rode along. “Have there been heavy forest fires?”

“No forest fires, señor,” the native answered. “The smoke comes from the bowels of the earth. The rocks have opened once more—we shall soon have an earthquake.”

“You think so?” cried Jack. He had experienced several slight earthquakes while in that quarter of the globe, and, though they had done small harm, he dreaded the coming of another quake.

“Yes, señor.”

“How soon?”

“Two, three days, it may be—or perhaps a week,” answered the native.

After that they rode along in silence for fully half a mile, when they reached a trail running east and west.

“Is this the road the señor is looking for?” asked the native, bringing his pony to a halt.

“I believe it is,” answered Jack. “But I must look around first to see if my party has passed this way.”

He surveyed the scene with care, but could find no trace of the others. Had they come thus far, or had they turned back, in a hunt for him? Jack was in a quandary over what to do next. Night was again coming on, and he had no desire to remain alone again, after his many adventures of the past twenty-four hours.

“Where can we stop around here?” he asked.

“The señor wants his humble servant to remain with him over night?”

“Yes, unless some other house is handy, and others there.”

“There is a house not far away, but it is empty.”

“Then let us go to it. It will be better to remain there than to stay in the open.”

They went up the trail a short distance, and then turned to the southward and took to a side road leading through a patch of high brushwood. Crossing a tiny mountain torrent, they came in sight of a dilapidated house, one end of which was all but wrecked. To the surprise of both Jack and his guide, smoke was issuing from behind the structure.

“Somebody must be here after all,” said the youth, as he rode forward.

“It must be a stranger, señor,” was the native’s reply.

Not to fall into the hands of enemies Jack advanced with caution. As he rounded the end of the dilapidated house, he saw a bright fire burning among some piled-up stones. In front of this fire a tall young man, dressed in rags, was crouching, cooking something in a battered pan. As Jack came closer the young man suddenly leaped to his feet, uttering a cry of alarm. Then he gave another cry, and dropping the pan with its contents to the ground, he rushed forward with wide-stretched arms yelling at the top of his voice.

“Jack! Jack! It is really my own Jack! Oh, how glad I am to see yeou!”

XXVIII. Back From the Dead

Jack literally fell from his horse. Was he dreaming or was this a ghost that confronted him? He gazed at the other fellow with eyes that almost popped from his head.

“Ain’t yeou glad to see me?” came from the fellow in rags, and his voice took on a hurt tone. “Plum! Is it—is it really you?” faltered Jack.

“Sure ez yeou air born it’s me,” was the answer from Plum Plucky.

“But I thought you were dead—I was sure you were dead. Why, I—I buried your bones!”

“Not by a jugful yeou didn’t bury my bones, Jack. I’ve got ’em all with me, although I allow they ain’t much meat on ’em jest now,” went on Plum, dolefully.

“But this—this staggers me! I was certain you were dead, and when I found a heap of bones which the vultures had picked clean I buried them for yours. This is the most wonderful thing I ever heard of. I can’t understand it. Where have you been, and why didn’t you let me hear from you?”

“I have been a prisoner of war,” answered Plum. “Got caught in the mountains one day. Fust they was up fer shootin’ me, but then they changed their minds and carted me off to some little town in the mountains. They fired me into a dungeon an’ I took sick, an’ would have died only a native gal up an’ nussed me back to health. Then I give the gal some silver I had hidden away an’ she showed me how to git away, an’ I got. Then I got lost in the mountains, an’ would have starved to death only I run down some sort o’ a wild beast that had two legs broken in a fall over the rocks. I killed the beast—I reckon it was a puma—with some rocks, an’ lived on the meat fer nigh on to a week. Then, after all kinds o’ adventures in the mountains, I reached here, an’ here I am, an’ so happy to see yeou I don’t know what to do.”

As he finished tears stood in the honest eyes of the Yankee lad, and Jack was no less affected. They embraced, the native looking on in wonder, until the matter was explained to him.

“I know this road like a book, so ye won’t need thet native no longer,” said Plum. “But I’d like to have his nag. I’m dead tired o’ hoofin’ it.”

“You shall have the pony—if he will sell,” said Jack.

“Got any money to pay with? I ain’t got a red cent.”

Jack had some funds with him, and soon a bargain was closed with the native. Then the fellow went off, leaving the former chums to themselves.

The supper Plum had been cooking was spoilt, but another was presently prepared and both sat down to do justice to the repast. As they ate each told his story in detail, and Jack related his reason for coming back to that portion of the country.

“I’m glad to learn yeou made money on them nitrates,” said Plum. “An’ I am glad, too, thet you found yer gal true blue an’ waitin’ for ye, Jack. But about this treasure hunt,—well, I don’t put much stock in it.”

“I want to solve the mystery of that boiling lake, Plum. Even if I don’t get the treasure it will be something to learn what makes that water shoot up as it does.”

“Oh, I suppose so, but don’t yeou take too many risks finding eout,” returned the Yankee lad.

Plum said he had expected to remain at the deserted house all night and then push on for the seacoast. But now he had met Jack, and had a pony at his service, he was willing to go anywhere.

“I ain’t got no home nor nuthin’,” he remarked. “One place is ez good ez another to me,—only I like to be among friends.”

“Stay with me, Plum, and welcome,” said Jack, cordially. “I can use you in my business, if you want to come in.”

“I am with yeou every time,” said Plum, and shook hands on it. As said before, he was without funds and more than glad that our hero was willing to assist him.

The night was spent at the dilapidated house without anything unusual happening, and early in the morning they got breakfast,—eating some birds Jack brought down with his pistol—and then went on their journey.

Noon found them on the main road, and an hour later they came across two of the members of Jack’s party.

“Well, I am glad to see you are alive,” said one of the men. “We had about given you up for lost.”

“I came pretty near being lost forever,” answered Jack, and once again had to tell his story. Then one of the men was despatched to bring up the rest of the party; and by nightfall all hands were together again.

“I shall certainly be more careful in the future,” declared Jack. “Such absent-mindedness does not pay.”

Fortunately some extra clothing had been brought along, and a suit was given to Plum, for which he was exceedingly thankful. That night Jack slept finely, and in the morning declared himself in the best of health.

Once again the party moved forward to the rocky bowl in the mountains holding the Devil’s Waters. By noon the summit of the ascent was gained and the party came to a halt. Then Jack went ahead accompanied only by Plum.

As soon as Jack reached a spot where he could look into the vast bowl he saw that something unusual had occurred. He was mystified and appalled and sat on his pony spellbound.

The roar and thunder of the mysterious boiling lake was gone. Not a sound broke the stillness of the mountainous scene. He looked down on a grass-covered valley, somewhat round, in size and having in its center a mound or “island,” upon which grew a lonely pimento tree. A branch of the tree, devoid of foliage, pointed like a great finger, to a cut in the great mountain bowl.

There was no mistaking such a landmark, and as Jack viewed it he gave a long low whistle.

“Well?” demanded Plum, questioningly.

“I am—am staggered, Plum.”

“Why?”

“This doesn’t look like a lake, does it?”

“Sure not, Jack.”

“Well, the last time I was here it was a boiling, writhing lake, and that mound you see yonder was an island in the middle.”

“Gosh all hemlock, Jack! Yeou don’t mean it!”

“I assuredly do.”

“There ain’t a drop o’ water around here neow!”

“I know it and that is what puzzles me.”

“Ain’t mistaken in the spot?”

“Not at all. Do you see that solitary pimento tree? Well, that was there, exactly as it is now.”

“Yeou said it would be, I remember that,” said Plum, scratching his head. “But this ain’t no lake.”

“It has been. See, the grass shows signs of having been covered with water mixed with mud.”

“That is so too, an’ neow I look at it, Jack, ther’s big holes in the ground here an’ there, where the water must have run off.”

For several minutes Jack and his friend surveyed the scene. Then our hero urged his pony down the somewhat steep side of the gigantic mountain bowl.

“Whar be yeou a going now?” asked Plum.

“To the mound in the middle of the valley, to see if I can find the treasure,” shouted back Jack.

“All right, I’m with yeou,” answered the Yankee lad, and followed down the slope.

XXIX. The Treasure of the Boiling Lake

It must be owned that Jack’s heart beat rather rapidly as he rode down into the little valley, hemmed in on all sides by the high walls of the Andes mountains.

He remembered well what the paper had said concerning the treasure, yet he did his best to steel himself against possible disappointment.

Plum Deemed to read his thoughts, for as he rode up he said:

“Jack, thet treasure might have been here years ago, but don’t be disapp’inted if it’s gone now. Them waters may have washed it away.”

“I am willing to take what comes, Plum,” was the answer. “But I want to know the exact truth—I hate to be kept in suspense.”

“Well, we’ll know afore long, I calkerlate,” returned the Yankee lad.

They had to pick their way with care to the “island,” as Jack insisted upon calling it. The bed of the valley was filled with holes and cuts, all of unknown depth. Here and there the flat rocks were split in twain in the most extraordinary fashion.

“There has been some great convulsion of nature here,” said Jack. “Maybe the earthquakes have something to do with the disappearance of the water.”

“If the water was here—an’ I believe what you say—it must have gone down in ’em holes and cuts,” said Plum. “But what made it spout up ag’in?”

“Some contraction of the hollows under the lake’s surface,” answered Jack. “Maybe a cave would get filled with water, then some rocks would fill the cave up, causing the water to spout out into the valley.”

“It must be thet—but it is certainly wonderful, Jack.”

At last the pair reached the side of the mound or “island,” Here they could gain a good idea of the big pimento tree with its stricken branch pointing to the distant hills. Around the pimento the rocks were strewn in all directions.

“If there was a cave here it is filled up,” said Jack.

“Pity we didn’t bring a spade along,” answered his companion.

Dismounting, they tied their ponies to the pimento and then began to look around the mound, which was several acres in extent. Rocks were cast up in all directions, as if by the force of a volcano.

A half hour had passed, and they had found nothing of value, when of a sudden Plum snatched up something and gave a yell:

“Gold! gold!”

“True enough,” answered Jack, when he had examined the piece. It was the size of his little finger and similarly formed.

“The treasure must be here!” went on the Yankee lad. “Come, let us look for it.”

“That is what we are doing already,” answered Jack, with something of a happy laugh. He, too, had spotted something yellow between the rocks, and now brought it forth, another piece of gold, twice the size of Plum’s find.

“Good for yeou!” shouted the Yankee boy. “The rocks must be full o’ gold!”

In feverish haste the search was continued, and soon Jack had at least a pound of gold to his credit, while Plum had nearly as much. Then, of a sudden, Jack stepped on some loose dirt and shot out of sight.

“Hi! what yeou doing?” yelled Plum, in alarm, as he retreated from the hole that had appeared.

“Help me out!” called up Jack. He had gone down about a dozen feet, to bring up in a bed of sand and small stones.

“Hurt any?” queried Plum anxiously.

“Not a bit, Plum.”

“Any gold down there?”

“I’ll see,” said Jack.

He hunted around the opening and soon discovered a passageway between two immense rocks. He lit a match and one look around made his eyes open wildly.

Gold was there, on all sides of the passageway—enough to make him rich for life!

“Plum, look here!” he yelled. “Gold—all you want of it!”

“Du tell!” roared the Yankee boy, and without stopping to think twice he dropped down to the bottom of the hole.

Another match was lit, and then some dry brushwood, and by the flickering light the two youths filled their pockets with the precious metal.

“We can load our ponies with gold,” said Jack. He was so delighted he could scarcely speak.

“That’s it—we’ll carry away all we can an’ then come back fer more,” answered the Yankee lad.

How to get to the top of the hole once more was a problem, but at last Jack climbed on Plum’s shoulders. He was then able to grasp a tree root, and by this means hauled himself upward.

“I’ll tell you what to do, Plum!” he called down. “You throw up the gold to me and I’ll load it on the ponies.”

“All right, Jack. But don’t forgit to pay me fer the job,” laughed Plum.

“Pay you? Why, Plum, a good share of this gold is yours!”

“Yes, but yeou knew about the treasure, I didn’t.”

“I don’t care. You can have a third anyway—and I’ll pay all expenses of this trip.”

“Thanks, Jack, yeou allers was a good feller.”

After that both boys worked away like Trojans for the best part of an hour. The gold was there and Plum flung up one piece after another, until the saddle bags on both ponies were overflowing.

“We’ve got a load!” cried Jack at last. “Any more down there?”

“Plenty,” was the answer.

“Well, let us take this to yonder hills and hide it. Then we can come back for more.”

“Why to the hills, Jack?”

“Because something tells me not to trust this spot too long, Plum. Remember the boiling lake.”

He assisted the Yankee lad to the top of the opening and then, mounted on their ponies, they made their way over the dry bottom of the lake to the rocky ridge beyond. Here they deposited the gold in a safe place, and then returned to the “island.”

“I’ll go down this time,” said Jack, and did so. A torch had been brought along, and sticking it in a crack of the rocks, the youth went to work with a will.

In less than half an hour the ponies were again loaded with gold. Jack had picked up almost the last piece in sight when he came to a sudden pause in his work.

What was that strange sound, and was it possible the earth beneath him was trembling? He leaped back to the center of the hole. Yes, the earth was surely quaking, and now some loose dirt came down on top of him.

“It is the earthquake!” he murmured, and at that moment came a loud cry from Plum.

“Jack! Jack! come up, as quick as you can! The water is squirting up through ’em holes, an’ the lake is filling up!”

XXX. A Ride for Life—Conclusion

The earthquake was indeed upon them, and as Plum threw down a rope to Jack the whole landscape seemed to rock to and fro, causing the Yankee lad to miss his footing and pitch headlong on our hero’s head.

“Oh, Jack, did I hurt you?” spluttered Plum, as he stood upright at the bottom of the hole.

Jack did not answer, for at that instant the earth shook again, sending them both on their backs. Then all became, for the instant, quiet.

“We must get away from this spot!” gasped Jack. “If we don’t, we’ll be buried alive!”

The rope had fallen at his feet. He picked it up. There was a noose at one end and this he whirled upward.

Twice he missed the object for which he aimed, but the third time the rope caught fast to a projecting rock.

“Now, Plum, up you go!” he said, and gave his companion a lift. Fear lent the Yankee lad strength and he went up hand over hand in rapid fashion. Jack followed, and in a moment more both stood on the surface of the island.

The sight that met their gaze was enough to make them shudder. On all sides the darkish-green water was spouting from the holes and cuts in the lake bed. Some of the columns arose to a height of a hundred feet, the water falling back into the basin with a tremendous report, and causing the drops to fly in all directions. At one point in the lake the water was already a foot or more deep.

“To the shore!” yelled Jack, and flew for a pony, while Plum did likewise. The animals were crazy with fear and could scarcely be controlled.

As they left the island there came another movement of the earthquake, followed by a crash behind them. They looked back, to see the lonely pimento tree fall into the very hole they had just left!

“Gosh! what a narrer escape!” gasped Plum.

“We are not out of it yet, Plum,” answered Jack. “Come, we must ride for all we are worth. Perhaps we had better throw away the gold.”

“No! no! Don’t do it!” screamed the Yankee lad. “We can make the shore if we hurry.”

Down they plunged side by side from the island and into the water that was now flowing in all directions around the mound. They made a bee line for the rocky ridge beyond.

“Look out for holes!” cried Jack, but even as he spoke his pony plunged downward, nearly causing our hero to take a header. But he clung fast, and, struggling up, the pony went forward as before.

It was a ride that can scarcely be described. Soon the water was up to the bodies of the ponies and then they were carried off their feet. They swam a short distance, and then, coming to a shallow spot, galloped on as before.

It was a wild ride, and dripping from foam and water the ponies kept on until once again they had to swim.

Then came a roar from the bottom of the lake, and steeds and riders were hurled high in the air, to fall again with a noise in the spume of the boiling lake.

“We—we air lost!” panted Plum. “Th—the wind is gone out o’ me!”

“Keep on, we have only a short distance further to go!” cried Jack.

The earth was shaking again and the water appeared to swing away from them toward the island.

Then it came on with a rush, carrying ponies and riders far up the rocky ridge. Then the water went back as before, boiling and foaming furiously, while a mist blotted out the immediate landscape.

“Come, don’t stop here!” yelled Jack, urging his pony forward. “To higher ground, before it is too late!”

Again they went on, but not for far. Another earthquake threw them flat and Plum rolled down under his pony. Then the quaking ceased; and that was the last of the earthquake. Arising, Jack helped his companion and found that the Yankee youth was uninjured. Both looked down the rocks toward the lake. The water was boiling and foaming as before, but gradually the surface of the lake grew calm. Then Jack gave another exclamation:

“The island! It is sinking from sight!”

It was true, the island was going down slowly but surely. In a few minutes it was but a mere speck on the surface, and then even this disappeared.

“Gone!” gasped Plum. “But we got the gold—or a good part o’ it!”

“Thank heaven that our lives were spared!” murmured Jack. “I never want to go through another such experience—not for all the gold in the world!”

A few words more and we will bring our tale to a close.

When they had rested, Jack and Plum rejoined the others of the party. The story of the hunt for gold was told, much to the amazement of the rest, and, later, the gold was taken down to the seacoast and placed with some reliable bankers. The boiling lake was inspected and found to be deeper than ever. Strange to say, the lake remained where it was for about two months, when it gradually disappeared, and that was the last seen of it. The ground around where the pimento island had been was greatly upheaved, and a long search in that vicinity failed to bring any more gold to light.

The treasure that had been found proved to be worth nearly thirty thousand dollars, one-third of which went to Plum and the rest to Jack. Out of his share our hero paid all the expenses of the trip and also rewarded handsomely all those who had accompanied him into the mountains.

With a portion of his money Jack continued to develop his nitrate fields and shipped vast quantities of the stuff to this country and elsewhere. He soon became immensely wealthy, and then settled down with his wife, Jenny, in Boston, where we will bid him farewell.

THE END