The young volcano explorers

By the time Hockley had finished his story the party had reached the hotel, where Mark and Frank were found, wondering what was going on. They still had the pieces of the torn-up note in their possession, and now it was noticed that it was written in a crude imitation of Hockley’s handwriting.

“Jake, we owe you an apology for having thought you wrote that,” said Sam, frankly.

“Yes,” put in Darry. “We owe you an apology true enough. I guess you were locked up in the same old convent we were in,” he went on.

“I am going to proceed against Captain Sudlip without delay,” said Professor Strong. “We have a strong case against him and he shall suffer for his misdeeds.”

But though the professor spoke thus, to proceed was no easy matter. When the old convent was visited no trace of the ex-master of the Chester was to be found, nor could his whereabouts be traced from the Fairfax House. The Cuban who had driven the volante had likewise disappeared.

“Stumped!” said Darry, laconically. “He knows enough to keep shady. He won’t show himself until after we are gone, and neither will that rascally Cuban.”

Owing to what had occurred, it was resolved to remain in Havana for the balance of the week, and during the next few days all the boys spent a large part of their time in sight-seeing. They inspected Morro Castle, and a guide explained how it had been fortified during the Spanish-American War, and they also visited some of the other fortifications. Next came a trip to the post-office, treasury building, the military offices and the cathedral. At the latter place they were shown an urn said to contain the bones of Columbus.

“Are they really his bones?” asked Mark.

“More than likely,” answered Professor Strong. “Yet this statement has often been disputed. Some say the bones are in Spain and others that they are in South America. It matters little where his bones lie. The fame of Columbus will ever remain the same.”

After the visit to the cathedral came another to the public art gallery, and the museum, and they also visited both the Cuban and the English cemeteries, beautiful spots, with many tall and imposing monuments. They also drove out to Principe Castle and spent two days at other points in the suburbs.

A railroad runs from Havana, south-westward to Pinar del Rio, a distance of about a hundred miles, and it was decided that one day should be spent at this city, the most important in the extreme western section of Cuba. This railroad was formerly of small importance but since the dawn of Cuban liberty, matters have taken a brisker turn.

“They had the same trouble here that they are having in South America,” said the professor, during the journey. “The natives do not take to the cars, no matter how low the fare. They prefer to journey on muleback or on foot, even though it takes much longer.”

“What a difference between that and our own country,” said Frank, with a laugh. “Just let a railroad lop off an hour from the running time between New York and Chicago, or between Chicago and San Francisco, and everybody runs to ride on that railroad.” And then all laughed.

“How large is Cuba?” asked Darry. “I did know, but I stored the knowledge away so carefully that I’ve forgotten where I put it.”

“Cuba is, roughly speaking, over seven hundred miles from east to west, and from fifty to a hundred miles from north to south. It contains nearly forty-four thousand square miles of territory, but a large portion of this is either very rocky, as in the mountains, or else very marshy, as along the seacoast. There is a mountain range running almost the entire length of the island. It is called the Sierra del Cobra, and boasts of one peak, the Pico de Torginno, 7,670 feet high. Besides this range of mountains there are numerous hills, particularly in the east.”

“What of the rivers?” asked Frank.

“As in Jamaica the rivers do not amount to a great deal, for the water flows directly from the mountains into the sea. There is one, called the Cauto, which empties on the south coast, just north of Manzanillo. This can be navigated by small craft for a distance of sixty miles. But there are a number of bays which make good harbors. The one at Santiago de Cuba is particularly fine.”

“Where the great fight came off, and where Hobson sunk the Merrimac!” cried Sam. “We must see that by all means. I once saw the Merrimac, but she was only a coal boat at that time.”

“The Monitor sunk the Merrimac,” came from Hockley, who was half asleep in his seat. And then as the other boys began to laugh he straightened up. “What are you laughing at anyway?” he growled. “I know I’m right.”

“We are talking about the Spanish-American War, not the Civil War,” explained the professor.

“Oh!”

“There are only two great industries in Cuba,” went on Professor Strong. “But some day there will be a third. The two are tobacco and sugar. They dominate trade and have made many Spaniards and Cubans rich. The town we are now bound for, Pinar del Rio, is the center of trade of the Vuelta Abajo tobacco district. The folks for miles around do nothing but raise tobacco.”

“And what will that third industry be?” asked Darry.

“The development of the mineral resources of the island. There are large quantities of minerals in the mountains, and sooner or later companies will be organized to dig them out. The very name of the mountain, Sierra del Cobra, means Copper Mountains.”

“I’d like to explore those mountains,” said Mark. “It would be lots of fun to peep down into an extinct volcano or two.”

“We can do that when we get to other places, Mark. South America is full of old volcanoes.”

“That’s the talk!” cried Frank, enthusiastically. “We’ll become volcano explorers. It will be fine. Who knows but that we may find a fortune in gold.”

The ride to Pinar del Rio soon came to an end. The boys were somewhat disappointed in the town, which boasts of about nine thousand inhabitants. There are but few public buildings of note and everything looked rather hot and dusty. But the tobacco warehouses were something new to them, and the professor had a Cuban who could speak English take them around.

“Tobacco is grown in various ways in different countries,” said the professor, as they walked around. “But the usual method, and the easiest, is to plant the seed in a specially prepared garden, or hot-house frame. As soon as it is up a few inches the plants are taken to the field and each is set out on its own little hill. Plants, to be good, require constant care, especially against the insects, that would otherwise eat holes in the leaves and render them of small value.

“When the leaves are full grown the plant is cut down and the leaves are hung up, ends down, to dry. From this drying process they are taken to the curing shed where they are thoroughly cured, after which they are ready for packing, in hogsheads or large cases. How they make cigars you saw down in Venezuela.”

“My father frequently has cigars that are all spotted,” said Mark. “What do the spots come from?”

“If they are genuine they come from a gum in the leaf, which appears on the surface when the leaf is fully ripe. But many of the spots—which some smokers look for—are put on artificially.”

“What about smoking tobacco and snuff?” asked Darry.

“And cigarettes?” put in Hockley.

“Smoking tobaccoes are nothing more than tobacco leaves cut up in various ways and snuff is tobacco ground up. The smoking tobaccoes are flavored with a hundred and one different things and chemicals are often used to keep them moist, and this treatment is also true of chewing tobacco. Some snuffs are allowed to rot before being used and others are baked, and many of them are perfumed. As to cigarettes, the best of them are made of carefully selected tobacco leaves, cut fine, and rolled up in a high grade of specially prepared rice paper. But the ordinary cigarette, of which millions are sold, is made of the very commonest of tobacco, adulterated in many ways, and is utterly unfit for smoking. These cigarettes, often used by boys and young men, are so utterly bad that even old tobacco-saturated Cubans—like these working around this warehouse—cannot use them without feeling sick.”

The last words were uttered for Hockley’s benefit. The eyes of the tall youth sought the ground and a moment later he turned away. But it was evident that he was doing some deep thinking. A little later, when he felt he was unobserved, he dropped a half package of cigarettes in an out-of-the-way corner.

The ride back to Havana in the cool of the evening was delightful and the boys enjoyed it thoroughly, that is, all but Hockley, who soon went to sleep.

“I really can’t see why he came with us,” observed Sam to the others, in a low tone. “He doesn’t seem to enjoy the sight-seeing a bit.”

“He wants something more startling,” answered Frank. “He told me this morning that everything was dead slow. He wants more sport. If he had his way I really believe he’d turn in to paint the town red, as they call it.”

“I don’t believe he told us the whole truth about his meeting with Captain Sudlip, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I think he went out for a good time and perhaps he had some liquor.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” came from Mark. “But as we don’t know we shouldn’t misjudge him. If he’s got this wildness in his constitution it may be awfully hard for him to keep even as straight as he does.”