Part 19 (1/2)

”I've puzzled over it some myself,” said the captain slowly, ”an' I can't make anythin' out of it. From what the chief let fall from time to time, though, I gathered he wanted to make you a valuable present, an' I've been kinder thinkin' that picture tells what an' where it is.”

Charley folded the piece of doe-skin and put it carefully away in an inner pocket. ”I will try to find out what it means when my head is clearer,” he said. ”Just now, all I can think of is something to eat.”

”And you shall have something to eat right off,” said the captain, heartily, ”it's about time for supper anyway. Hustle up, Chris, an'

get them fish cleaned. I reckon it won't hurt the lad to have a bit of solid food, now, providin' it's well cooked.”

The sun was just setting when the captain and Chris reappeared bearing gourds full of smoking fish, and sweet sugary yams, and ears of curious small kernelled Indian corn.

The boys made merry over the delicious meal, but a curious constraint seemed to rest upon the captain and Chris. Once Walter surprised them exchanging glances full of a strange, expectant uneasiness. The circ.u.mstance aroused his curiosity, but he refrained from asking any questions, deciding that the captain would explain the trouble in his own good time.

As the evening wore away, the change in the captain's manner became more and more marked. All his cheeriness of the day had departed, leaving him glum and silent. He took no part in the lively conversation going on between the boys, but sat apart answering their questions in monosyllables. His manner, Walter decided, was that of a man who faces some great impending evil.

With the coming of darkness the air was filled with the noises of the swamp; the croaking of mult.i.tudes of frogs, the hooting of owls, and the hoa.r.s.e bellowing of many alligators.

Suddenly the boys sat up erect and stared at each other in amazement.

”What is it?” Walter cried.

Clear and sweet above the noises of the night rang the tolling of a silver-toned bell.

”It's the bell of the spirits callin' us,” said the captain gloomily, while Chris sat ashen-faced trying vainly to control his terror.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE TREASURE.

”Nonsense, there are no such things as spirits,” cried Charley, hotly.

”That tolling is made by a big bell, and a remarkably sweet-toned one, too.”

”It's over a hundred miles to the nearest settlement,” said the captain gloomily, ”do you reckon you could hear the biggest bell made that far?”

”No,” the lad admitted, ”but that bell is not over two miles away.

Some Indian has traded for a bell and tolls it for his own amus.e.m.e.nt.”

The captain lowered his voice to a superst.i.tious whisper. ”It's a mystery to the Indians,” he declared, ”and they avoid the sound like it were an evil spirit. Even the chief could not tell me what it was, although all his life he had heard its tolling. He wasn't so much afraid of it as are the other Indians an' he built this wigwam here so as to be within sound of it.” The captain's voice dropped still lower as he added impressively, ”It tolled all the night after he died.”

”Have you tried to follow up the sound and discover where it comes from?” demanded Charley, sharply.

”Not me,” declared the captain, solemnly, ”I ain't got any call to interfere with the doings of the dead. I tell you, lad, this is a land of mystery, an' a man's got no call to fool with what he can't understand.”

Charley checked the angry reply rising to his lips. He bethought himself that the captain had spent his life in a calling that often makes the strongest minded superst.i.tious, while Chris inherited a belief in ghosts and spirits from his race. Though he lapsed into silence, Charley resolved that as soon as he was able to get around, the mystery should be solved.

For about an hour the air rang with the sweet chiming notes, then they ceased as suddenly as they had begun and the boys dropped off to sleep to dream of this strange incident in this mysterious swamp.

Walter was astir early, apparently as well as he had ever been.

Hastily dressing he lifted up the bark flap which covered the doorway and stepped out of the wigwam.

The captain was busy cooking breakfast over a rude fireplace of stones, a few feet away, while Chris on the bank by the water was industriously fis.h.i.+ng.