Part 22 (1/2)

”Granddaddy Par always said it was buried in three places. Now because some others have been before us in this cave, it's no sign they have been before us in the other places. If I hadn't been such a little kid when he showed me that map, and said as how he'd take me with him some day an' go after the stuff--it was always 'some day,' and the rheumatiz never left him till he died. As I was sayin', if I hadn't been such a little kid, I'd made a copy o' the map.”

”It's queer you can't remember nothin' on the map.”

”I see it in my dreams, times; but when I wakes it's all gone. But I think we're on the right track. That old harpoon grown tight in that crotch o' the tree, pointin' over to the two trees, blazed, wasn't for nothin'.”

”How do ye know them's blazes on the trees?”

”It's plain ye ain't no woodsman. They ain't nothin' can cause such marks 'cept blazin'. An' the best thing about it--there ain't been no diggin' anywhere in that place.”

And so they continued till the bottle was finished, and all had dozed off except the man they called Darby, who came over and had a good look at our bonds.

Ray and I were wakened by voices. The treasure-hunters were all stirring, preparing to go off to their day's digging. One they called Stephen Conry remained to be our guard. He brought us food when the others had gone.

”Now, ye'll not monkey with the ropes,” said our guard, examining the knots on our limbs, after having given our hands freedom. ”I'm quick on the trigger when I'm mad. So no gum games on Conry. Heed that!”

”Oh! I wouldn't part with these ropes for anything,” said Ray. ”I'm getting so used to them I couldn't sleep without them. I'd be afraid someone would kidnap me if I didn't have them.”

The man stared, lacking humor.

”You'd be none the worse off, if you turned us loose,” I told the man.

”And you'll be no better off if you keep us. That man will never come back. He isn't the kind--”

”We ain't goin' to discuss that,” returned the man. ”We'll turn you two loose, 'none the worse off,' when the time's up, not afore.” And he went back to the entrance of the cave, leaving the lighted lantern on a box.

My mind was taken with painful reveries. Our party was now facing failure again. Here had Duran got the two of us hidden in a place, our new guards declared, would never be found out by our friends. Never is a long time, you'll say. But suppose our party was to delay two or three days in the search for us? Would not Duran then be off beyond possibility of following, and so gain to the mine without fear of detection? That he had much reason to fear our pursuit there had been ample evidence. And now he had paid five thousand dollars to these men to hold us--and thus indirectly to hold all our party--for a week, that he might safely hie away to finish enriching himself from the mine of the Brills.

These reflections made me squirm with impatience. Some way must be found to accomplish escape before night, for then Duran would surely be off, and all of us undone. Our guard, I saw, kept a sharp eye out, so we durst not even look at our bonds.

A little before noon, John Mullins, the leader of the treasure-hunters, came crawling into the cave, chuckling over a bit of news.

”And what do you think, Steve? The kids' friends have been 'round, askin' if we'd seen anything of them. There was three on 'em; a big fellow with a rifle and two kids. He said it was two boys they was lookin' for. I says I ain't never seen no boys on this island 'cept them he had with him. An' then he wants to know if we'd seen some black cannibals, an' a white cannibal amongst 'em. Think o' that, Steve, cannibals!

”'Lor' bless you!' I says, 'there ain't no cannibals in this part o' the world!'

”'Well,' says he, 'you can take it from me as how there's no less'n a dozen cannibals on this here island now, an' a white skunk is their leader.' Now what do you think o' that, Steve Conry?”

”I--I don't rightly make it out,” said Steve, ruminating--scratching his head. ”They must o' had their bellies full when they left the kids with us to keep. Now do you suppose,” went on Steve with a new thought, ”as how maybe they mean to come back at the end o' the week we was to keep the kids, an' that then they're expectin' to have their appet.i.tes again, an' eat the kids--an' then eat us too, an' get back the five thousan' to boot?”

I nudged Ray at this, and got a poke in return.

”Ha! That's all bosh,” laughed the other. ”They ain't no more cannibals than you an' me. The feller was just tryin' to scare us--maybe thought he'd get us to help them against the black crowd--whatever the game is, but I let him see John Mullins wasn't born yesterday, and not frightened o' bogey stories. So when he saw it was no use he just moved on. Well, Steve, you go an' get your grub, an' bring a snack for the kids. We got to keep 'em fed up for the cannibals.” And he laughed at his joke.

Steve disappeared through the hole, and Mullins turned to Ray and myself.

”I reckon your friends 'd pay a nice little wad to get ye back,” he ventured.

”I reckon they wouldn't,” I promptly told him. I began to fear he might try them, and perhaps find Julian too willing to offer a reward for us.

I had another idea than that.

”Oh, you don't think they would, hey?” said Mullins, a bit taken aback by my answer. ”I thought,” he said, ”they was kind o' keen to get ye.”