Part 40 (1/2)
CHAPTER XXV
THE TRAIL THROUGH THE JUNGLE
”Sid Merrick is certainly in deadly earnest,” was Mr. Rover's comment, after the boys had finished their tale. ”He means to get hold of that treasure by hook or by crook, and he will stop at nothing to gain his end.”
”We want to go after him and his gang,” said d.i.c.k. ”We ought not to lose a minute doing it.”
”Can you walk, d.i.c.k?”
”I guess so, although being tied up made me rather stiff.”
”I see your wrist is bleeding.”
”Yes, and I tried pretty hard to free myself.”
”And I tried, too,” added Sam. ”But I couldn't budge a single knot.”
”We could not unknot the knots,” added Tom, who was bound to have his joke.
It was now morning, for which all were thankful. The lights were put out, and the whole party partook of some of the provisions on hand.
”I believe Merrick would have left us to starve,” said Sam. ”He is the greatest rascal I ever knew!”
The Rover boys pointed out the direction Sid Merrick and his party had taken. Bahama Bill said that trail was new to him, and if it led to the treasure cave he did not know it.
”But I'll know the cave as soon as I see it--if it is still there,” he added.
”Well, you won't see it if it isn't there,” said d.i.c.k, grimly. ”That earthquake may have changed the whole face of that portion of the isle.”
The trail appeared to make a wide sweep to the westward, and led them over ground that was unusually rough. The trailing vines were everywhere and they had to brush away innumerable spider webs as they progressed. Once Songbird came upon some spiders larger than any he had yet seen and two crawled on his shoulder, causing him to yell in fright.
”What's the matter?” asked d.i.c.k.
”Spiders! Two were just going to bite me, but I got rid of 'em!”
”Don't be afraid, Songbird,” came from Tom. ”Why don't you study them and write a poem about them?”
”A poem about spiders! Ugh!” And Songbird's face showed his disgust.
”Der spider vos a pusy little animal,” observed Hans. ”He sphins his veb und attends strictly to business. I d.i.n.k I make up some boetry apout him,” and the German boy began:
”Der vos von leetle sphider Vot lifed owid in der voot, He made himself a leetle veb Und said dot it vos goot.”
”Hurrah, for Hans!” cried Tom. ”He's the true poet of spiderdom!” and then he added: ”Hans, we'll crown you poet laureate if you say so.”
”I ton't von no crown,” answered Hans, complacently. ”I chust so vell vear mine cap alretty.”
As the party progressed the way become more uncertain, and at last they reached the edge of a swamp, beyond which was some kind of a cane-brake. They saw numerous footprints in the soft soil, and these led further still to the westward.
”Listen!” said d.i.c.k, presently, and held up his hand.