Chapter XXI: Charley Gets a Telegram

THE tired-out boys slept soundly until awakened by the rays of the morning sun. Rising, they enjoyed a good swim in the cool waters of the lake, and then, stirring up the dying embers of the campfire, they warmed up and ate what remained of their feast of the night before. As soon as it was finished, they saddled up their ponies, and, with a parting look at the beautiful lake, headed back for camp.

They had not gone far before the sky became overcast, and soon there began to fall a fine, drizzling rain, that soaked their thin clothing and chilled their bodies. There was no shelter to get under, so they could only ride on and take it as it came. When they came to the place where they had stopped the day before Walter wanted to halt and look for more treasure, but Charley objected.

"Our matches are all wet, so that we cannot make a torch," he explained, "and we could not do much searching without a light. If there is any more treasure in that hole there is no danger of anyone finding it. We, ourselves, would never have found it but for an accident. We had better wait until we can come back with a proper outfit of ropes, candles, etc. To tell the truth, I want someone else along with us next time. If one of us should get hurt in any way it would be a bad fix for both so far away from camp. See how near I came to joining you in that hole yesterday? Two is not enough where there is danger of that kind. We will bring the Captain and Chris next time."

Walter, still mindful of his experience in the black hole, was not overly anxious to repeat it, and they rode on in the drizzling rain. Before they reached the Indian camp the rain ceased and the sun came out again with a warmth grateful to their chilled bodies. On reining in at the camp, they were astonished to see the chief sitting out in the sun in front of his wigwam. He was thin as a skeleton, but appeared bright and cheerful. The Indian, Willie John, who had furnished them with the ponies, stopped them when they started to unsaddle.

"No, no," he said, "ride ponies on to big camp. Turn 'em loose. They come back all right."

The boys tried to pay him for the use of the animals, but he refused to take any money.

"Young pale-faces friends. No take money from friends," he said generously.

"Very well," Charley said, "but friends may give gifts to friends. Soon I go to town and get plenty of red and blue and yellow cloth and much beads. Two sleeps (nights) from now you come to big camp and get them. They will be a gift from the palefaces to their Seminole brother."

"It is well," said the Seminole, gravely. "Two sleeps I come to big camp."

"There is something noble about the Seminoles," said Charley, as they rode on. "Now that fellow knows the value of money, and he knows he can get with it many things that he desires, but his code forbids him to take it from a friend."

"I like them," agreed Walter emphatically. "They are so different from our slovenly tribes of Western Indians. They are so clean, honest, generous, and truthful. I doubt if a white race put in this awful country would retain so many virtues."

"And they have never waged an unjust war," Charley added. "When they fought it was to save themselves from being crushed out of existence. But, when they did have to fight, they fought bravely. During the Seminole war, not so very many miles north of here, a party of Indians encountered a company of soldiers. The soldiers stood their ground until the last one was killed and the Seminoles victorious, but, after the battle was over, not a dead soldier was scalped according to savage custom. Not one was touched. Even their guns and equipment were left lying where they had fallen. It was a silent tribute the Seminoles paid to a brave enemy, and, to my mind, there was something fine in the act."

This conversation had brought the lads to the jungle, and they fell silent as they rode through its gloomy depths.

It was after noon when they came in sight of the machine, which they were pleased to see was still working steadily, showing that nothing serious had occurred during their absence. When close to it, Charley reined in his pony and hailed the engineer.

"Hello!" he called. "How are they coming?"

Kitchner stopped the machine, and clambering down, walked up to him. "Not so bad," he said, in answer to the question. "But we've only got enough carbide to run the light to-night. Have to have some more before to-morrow night, or we will have to quit night work."

Charley frowned slightly. "That carbide light costs like fury," he said. "I brought out a big lot of it the last time I went to town. At the rate it has been used up, that light costs us about $5.00 a night."

"It is expensive," agreed Kitchner, "and that is not the worst feature about it. It's dangerous to use on a job like this, where the men do not understand it. There is always some escaping gas from the tank, which is easily set afire by a spark from the engine or the careless lighting of a match close by. One of the firemen was burnt some last night. The gas caught fire from his lantern. An electric light would be far better, less dangerous, and save its own cost in the long run."

"We'll get a dynamo and fix up an electric light, then," said Charley. "I'll go in to-night and order one. It will likely take several days to get it here, so I'll bring back enough carbide with me to run the light until it comes."

This settled, the boys rode on into camp, where Charley paused long enough to wash and change his clothes, then got out the truck and headed for town, where he arrived in time to catch the train for Palm Beach. He carried with him the gold and rings they had found in the old fort, for the boys had decided that it would be unwise to keep the treasure at camp, and that the sooner it was turned into money and safely deposited in the bank the better it would be. Once at the Beach, the lad sought out the leading jeweler in town, and showed him the rings and coins, and asked if he thought he could dispose of them for him.

The jeweler examined the rings with the greatest interest. "Some of these rings are very valuable," he declared. "Just how valuable, I would not like to say, offhand. If you care to intrust me with the disposal of them, I will get all the money I can out of them for you. The gold coins you will have no trouble about. Your bank will accept them at nearly their real value."

Charley quickly accepted the jeweler's offer, and turned over the rings to him and received a receipt in return. At the bank he had no trouble with the gold coins, the cashier readily accepting them and crediting the value to his account.

His business transacted, the lad bought a paper, and, securing a room in a nearby hotel, stretched out on the bed to read and rest, for he was thoroughly tired out by the long day he had put in. He scanned the headlines with mild interest, but at last he came to a paragraph that he read and reread with growing excitement. The brief item ran as follows:

"Among the bills that will come up before the legislature when it meets next month is one to give to a wealthy New York company a grant of one thousand acres of land, just east of Indiantown, for the nominal sum of $1 per acre. There is but little doubt that the bill will pass, for this land is so remote from transportation that it is considered of little or no value. The New York company, it is said, intends to develop the entire tract. They certainly seem very eager about it, for much money and influence is being used to secure the desired grant."

For a long time the lad lay back and considered this short notice, but could see nothing in it to account for the many attempts to stop the road building, for certainly a good road would be of vast value to the development company. At last he gave up puzzling over the matter, and turning out his light, prepared to go to sleep; but, he had no sooner stretched out, than there came a thumping at his door. "Wait a minute," he called to the knocker, as he turned on the light and slipped on his clothes. He opened the door, and in stepped a little, freckled-faced messenger boy.

"Gee, Mister," he said, "I've had a peach of a job finding you. Been to every hotel and boarding-house in town. Got a telegram for you. Sign right here."

"Wait a minute," said Charley, as the youth turned to go. "There may be an answer to this."

Hastily tearing open the envelope, the lad read:

"Better get back as soon as you can. Bunch of New York toughs or gunmen just got off train. Met by wagons. Gone out direction of your camp. Saw Jones talking to some of them. Bad-looking characters."

There was no name signed to the message, but the lad knew it was from the friendly agent at Jupiter, and, turning it over, he wrote on the back.

"Can't get up until morning train. Many thanks."

He gave the message to the boy, together with a half dollar to pay him for his trouble, and, as soon as the boy had departed, he undressed and went again to bed, where he lay awake half the night, worrying over the agent's message.

He was waiting at the sheriff's office next morning when that officer arrived, and to him he laid bare the whole story of their trials since he and his chums had bought the machine.

The sheriff listened with deepest interest, and when the lad concluded he said to him frankly: "I would like best in the world, lad, to help you, but you have no direct evidence against anyone, and I can make no arrests without proof. I would advise you to see a good lawyer. Maybe he will be able to untangle this mess for you."