Chapter XXII: Moving the Camp

MUCH downcast by his failure to secure the sheriff's aid, Charley made his way to the building where most of the lawyers of the county had their offices. Selecting one of the offices at random, for he knew none of the lawyers, even by reputation, he opened the door and entered. He found himself face to face with a bright, alert, keen-eyed young man, who greeted him pleasantly, and invited him to be seated. Briefly he stated his errand and retold the tale he had told the sheriff.

The young lawyer listened with deepest interest, and at the end of it exclaimed boyishly:

"By Jove, this is an interesting case. I wouldn't miss a chance to handle it for a hundred dollars. I was a detective before I was a lawyer, and the lure of mystery always appeals to me. There is certainly enough mystery in this case of yours to satisfy anyone. I will have to think it over carefully, and look up some features of it, before I can be of any help to you. I will be busy to-day, for I have a case coming up in Circuit Court, but to-morrow I will come out to your camp and look the ground over with you. I have a little auto of my own, and I will enjoy the trip out, even if nothing comes of it. I have always wanted to see that back country, and this will be a good chance to combine business with pleasure."

Charley left the friendly lawyer's office feeling more cheerful in having enlisted his aid. He reached the station just in time to catch the train for Jupiter, where he alighted half an hour later. The agent was watching for him, and immediately drew him to one side.

"I am afraid you are in for a rough time out at camp," he said; "that was the wickedest-looking bunch of men I ever saw in my life. There were twenty of them altogether. They were expected, too, for there were wagons waiting for them a little ways from the station, and they drove off immediately."

"I cannot even stop to thank you properly," Charley said, earnestly. "We cannot thank you enough for what you have done for us, anyway."

"That's all right," said the agent heartily, "I am pleased to have been of any assistance to you. But I will not keep you, for I know you are anxious to see how things are at camp. So-long, and good luck to you."

A minute later Charley was in the truck and driving out on the dirt road at a dangerous rate of speed, for before him he could see the sharp cut of wagon tires in the soft earth.

About three miles from camp the wagon tracks left the road, and, as far as the lad could see from the car, continued at a right angle to it. Somewhat relieved by this discovery, he reduced his speed and drove into camp at an easy gait.

Much to his delight, he found everything going on as usual, dinner cooking in the cook tent, the machine busily digging, and the graders leveling off close behind it. After a little chat with Chris, the lad retired to his tent, where he rested until his chums and the men came trooping in to dinner.

After dinner was eaten, Charley called a council of war of his chums, the two engineers off duty, and Bossie the fireman. He told them of all he had learned during his trip. "Of course I may be making a mountain out of a mole hill," he said, in conclusion. "Those men may be only a party of hunters out for a good time, but, from what we have already met with, it will be well to be on our guard until we are sure of the fact. We cannot tell in what way or when we will be made to suffer. I want every man--Spaniard as well as American--to be constantly on the watch for any signs of trouble. You, Bossie, explain to your countrymen just how things stand, so that none of them will be taken unawares. Now, have any of you any suggestions to offer?"

"I think we ought to move camp as soon as possible," said McCarty promptly. "It's a good two miles from here to the machine now, and the distance is growing greater every day. Of course, it does not make so much difference in the daytime, but, with an enemy around, it makes it risky for the men going back and forth at night."

"You're right," Charley agreed. "We had better get an early start and move camp to-morrow morning to a place about a quarter of a mile ahead of the machine. I noticed a knoll of good, high sloping ground there. When you go out, McCarty, have one of the dynamiters set fire to the grass there, so that the ground will be bare for the pitching of our tents. We don't want to run any chance of being burnt out."

"I don't think we on the machine run so very much danger," observed Bratton; "not if we keep a good watch out. It is all steel, and, in case of attack, we can call the ground men aboard and keep the platform revolving fast. No one can then climb aboard, and the boiler and machinery will give pretty good protection, while we can use our guns from the platform to pretty good advantage."

"Good idea," approved McCarty. "I will adopt that plan and tell Kitchner about it when I go out."

"The dynamiters are a good mile and a half ahead of the machine," Captain Westfield observed. "I reckon it wouldn't be a bad idea to add them to the guard around the camp until the machine catches up with them a little."

"Good suggestion," Charley approved. "We will do that."

"I have got an amendment to offer to the moving plan," Walter said. "I suggest that we move camp this afternoon. You have all apparently forgotten that to-morrow is Sunday, and all hands need a rest."

"You're right," Charley agreed promptly. "Call in all the men except the crew on the machine, and the bridge builders, Bossie. Get the other men in the tents to roll out and help. Tell the bridge builders to throw a bridge across the ditch, so that we can cross and get by the machine with the truck and wagon."

In a few minutes all was astir in the camp, men busy packing up, others pulling down and folding up tents, while still others piled them in the waiting truck and wagon. Within half an hour of giving the orders, Charley started with the first truckload, carrying with him half of the Spaniards to pitch the tents on the new camp-site. He found the knoll burnt clear of grass and the ground still smoking from the recent fire. Hastily unloading and directing the Spaniards where to set up the tents, the lad hurried back for another load.

Twenty men working with system can accomplish wonders, and long before dark the moving was finished and Chris was getting supper in the cook tent.

"I don't like staking out the mules," said the teamster, as he joined the rest at supper, "but I can't build a corral for them until to-morrow. You see, they keep moving around nearly all night, and they get all tangled up in the ropes and wear the hide off their legs trying to get free."

"I don't believe they will hurt themselves much in one night," Charley assured him, "and to-morrow all hands can turn in and build a corral for them. How much wood have you got ahead?"

"Enough for a week," answered the teamster, brightening. "That Juan is a first-class worker, and I have been hauling steady. I've got it strung along the road for a mile ahead of the machine."

As soon as it began to get dark, Charley gave a gun to each of the two dynamiters, and gave them instructions to join their two countrymen as guards.

Everyone was tired, and all retired early to their tents. It was agreed that the machine should stop work at midnight, and that, when her crew came in, two of the camp guard would go out and keep watch on it the balance of the night.

Charley was roused up about midnight by the stop whistle of the machine, and a few minutes later he heard its crew entering the camp, and the chatter of the two guards, as they went out to take the crew's place. The lad rolled over with a sigh of content, and dropped off to sleep again, only to awaken again to the sharp crack of rifles. "Get up, you fellows," he shouted to his chums. "There's more trouble afoot."

"Great Cæsar," exclaimed Walter, in disgust. "Can't we ever get a good night's sleep?"

"Don't look that way," said his chum grimly, as he pulled on his clothes.

Outside the tent the lads found the Captain and engineers just emerging from their shelters.

Along the road for a mile in front of the machine, huge bonfires were burning.

"They have fired the woodpiles!" Charley exclaimed. "Well, let 'em burn. There's more wood where that came from. Let's make for the machine; that's where the shooting came from."

A few minutes' walk brought them to the digger, where they found the Spanish guards excited but unhurt. They had fired the guns to let the camp know of the fire. They were so apparently nervous, however, that McCarty volunteered to stay with them the balance of the night.

"Well, it might be worse," said Charley, as the little party made their way back to camp. "They have just made more work for the teamster and woodchopper, that's all."

But, as they approached close to the camp, they were met by one of the guards. "_Señors_," cried the man, his voice trembling, "there is frightful groaning coming from the darkness behind our picket line."

"Where?" demanded the teamster, who had joined the little party.

"Toward the North Star, not far from our picket line," answered the shaky sentinel.

"Go back to your post, _hombre_," Charley ordered. "We'll get the lanterns and come right out and see what it is."

The frightened sentinel obeyed, but he moved so slowly that the boys overtook him before he reached his post.