Part 21 (1/2)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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