Chapter XV: The Mystery Deepens

IT was late in the afternoon when Charley at last awoke. The death-like sleep had done him a world of good and, except for stiffness and muscles that still ached, he felt his old self again.

His companions were both up, moving about and he greeted them brightly.

"I am feeling as fit as a fiddle," he declared. "As soon as I get a bite to eat I'll be ready for another night's fishing."

"To-night is Saturday night," observed Captain Westfield, hesitatingly. "I don't want to stand in the way of making money, but I 'low it won't do no hurt for us to lay in to-night. We might get into a school that would keep us working all night, like last night, and it's noways right to work on the Lord's day."

"That's right," agreed Charley, heartily, "I had lost track of the days. We will not go out again until midnight, Sunday night. I don't believe anyone ever really lost anything by obeying the Lord's command to keep his day holy."

"Have you figured out any plan for dealing with the fishermen?" Walter inquired, anxiously.

"Nothing very brilliant," his chum admitted. "One thing I think we had better do at once is to remove all that liquor to another hiding place and let them think we have destroyed it. It may make them feel more bitter toward us but they will no longer have a motive for driving us from the island. I would like to destroy it entirely but we have no right to do that. That is the sheriff's business. One thing, there is nothing like a good sleep to do away with worry and discouragement. I feel quite hopeful, now, but I was almost ready to quit this morning. After all I guess Hunter has done us about all the damage he can. Our other nets and boats we will always have with us and he will not have much chance to injure them if we keep watch of them. With the liquor gone, they will not be likely to bother us on the island, and, if they do, all we have will be in the cabin protected by a good rifle. Let's change the hiding place, now. We have time to do it before dark."

His companions had no better plan to suggest so they readily agreed to his proposal. Taking with them some bits of thin boards for spades they sought the beach and turned into one of the paths that led to the buried liquor.

"This smuggling business must have been going on for a long time judging from the number of these paths and the way they are worn," Charley observed. "Hunter ought to be rich from the enormous profits he makes on the vile stuff. It can be bought for a dollar a gallon in Cuba and on this side, I believe, it retails for five dollars a gallon."

"The man who follows an evil trade, seldom prospers," said Captain Westfield, sagely. "In the end he has to pay for his ill-gotten gains. Generally he has to pay in this life, and he always has to pay in the hereafter."

"I believe you are right," Walter agreed. "I have noticed that saloon-keepers and that class never seem happy. Even those who make money seem to be cursed with drunken children or something equally bad, and if they have a shred of conscience, they must suffer terribly in secret for the misery they cause and the punishment they must expect in the life hereafter."

This conversation had brought them to the cache, and, pulling off their coats, they fell to work with their rude spades.

They worked with a will and sent the loose sand flying for the sun was sinking low and they wished to complete their task before dark. In a few minutes they had made a hole a couple of feet deep, and some ten feet across.

"We ought to be down to it," said Charley, with a puzzled frown. "It must be covered deeper than I thought."

They worked on for a few minutes longer, then Charley threw down the board with which he had been shoveling. "It has been taken away," he declared, voicing the conviction which had grown upon his companions. "They got it last night, after all, Chris."

"I doan see how, Massa Chas," objected the little darkey, "I watched dem come up de path an' I watched dem run away."

"They must have come back after you went to sleep," Charley said, but Chris shook his head decidedly.

"I doan sleep none arter dat," he persisted. "I laid awake and watched de balance ob de night."

"Maybe, they had a boat on the gulf beach, also," Walter suggested, "and while some of them drew attention to the dock, the others removed the stuff."

"Well, anyway, it's gone, and I am glad of it," Charley said. "Maybe they will not trouble us any more now. I confess that they were beginning to get on my nerves. Let's go back to the cabin and get supper and have a good sleep. Thank goodness we will likely rest one night in peace."

His companions were nothing loath for they had not yet got entirely over their aches and pains.

The night passed away uneventfully and morning found them entirely their old selves once more.

"We are over the worst part now," Charley assured them. "Of course we will often come in very tired but we will never again feel like we did those first two nights, and the longer we fish the less we will mind the labor."

As soon as breakfast was over, Captain Westfield produced his old, well-worn Bible from which he was never separated and read a couple of chapters of the story of Him he loved with all his big, simple, trusting heart.

The simple service was just over when they heard the throbbing of an engine and they hurried down to the dock just in time to greet the Roberts who had come over in their launch to pay them a friendly call.

It was pleasant to our little party to see friendly faces and hear kindly conversation after all the roughness and suspicion they had met among the unfriendly fishermen. It was good to feel that they were not alone entirely in their new life and that there was someone who took a friendly interest in them and wished them well.

They began to have a strong liking for the three sturdy brothers, they appeared so frank, open and sincere.

Bill had brought over with him the rifle he had mentioned and presented it to them, together with a box of cartridges.

He was deeply interested to learn that the liquor had been removed.

"It is a queer thing," he remarked. "I saw the Hunter gang come in Friday night about midnight. I had got caught over to Clearwater with a loose shaft and I was working on it when their boat came in. I supposed they had been fishing and I glanced into their launch to see what they had caught. It was empty. Of course, they could have hidden a few bottles in the lockers but not any such amount as you say was buried here. They were all mad as the deuce and quarreling amongst themselves. I didn't get the shaft fixed until about two o'clock. Their boat was still at the dock when I left and I could hear them snoring in their shanty. Another thing, I was over again last night to see if our new nets had come and I couldn't help but notice that apparently there was no drinking going on. Saturday night is pay night, and, if Hunter had had that liquor, he would certainly have been handing it out on the quiet and there would have been more or less drunken men about."

"Then who could have taken it, if the fishermen didn't?" demanded Charley, thoroughly puzzled.

"Can't imagine, unless that ghost of Chris' did it," admitted Bill, with a grin. "That was a curious thing to happen, and if I did not know that you fellows are the truthful kind, I would believe you were trying to kid me with that yarn. We have been here some time, and we have never heard of any stranger on this island. Let's take a look over: it again and see if there is any cave or other place a man could hang out."

The others readily agreed to his proposal, and all set out together for a closer exploration of the island. They made a thorough search from end to end, and from shore to shore, but could find no place a man could hide out or any trace of human habitation. The shores were sloping sand beaches without rocks or caves and the only growth was the scanty groups of palms.

They returned to the cabin more mystified than ever for they had convinced themselves beyond doubt that they were the only occupants of the island.

"Well, if the fishermen haven't got that liquor, I suppose we must look for more trouble," Charley sighed.

"I expect you may," Bill agreed. "Even if they have got it, I guess, they would not give you a very long rest. As soon as it was gone, they would want to bring in more and this is the only island around with a good gulf beach to land the stuff on. Also it's the handiest and most convenient for their purposes."

"Then it's a case of move or be in trouble all the time," said Walter, dubiously.

"Yes, that's about it," Bill agreed.

"We can't leave yet," said Charley, decidedly, "so we will have to take whatever is coming to us. If we could only catch them in the act of smuggling, we could get rid of them for good and be conferring a blessing on the rest of the fishermen besides."

"That's the very thing I've been thinking of," Bill agreed. "Whether they got the liquor again or not, they are sure to try the game again as soon as they think it's safe. I've been doing considerable thinking about it since I talked to you before and I've got a scheme I think might work."

He proceeded to unfold his plan while the others listened with eager interest.

"It might work," said Charley, thoughtfully, "but, while we are waiting, they may do us all kinds of injuries."

"That's a risk you are running, anyway," Bill reminded him, "and we Roberts will do all in our power to help you. Call on us any time, day or night, if you are in trouble and you will find us ready."

Charley thanked him heartily for his offer and soon after the Roberts took their leave.

The little party were still on the dock watching their launch out of sight when they noticed another launch put out from the Clearwater pier, and it soon became apparent that it was headed for their island.

"It's Hunter's craft," announced Walter, as it drew nearer. "Looks as though he had waited for the Roberts to leave to pay us a visit."

As the launch drew nearer they saw it contained but one person and that one Hunter himself.