According to agreement, as soon as night fell, Charley, taking two of the Spaniards with him, went out to stand guard on the machine for the night, while Walter and the other two took their posts on the guard line circling the camp. There is nothing so slow and tedious as doing guard duty, but the boys managed to hasten the flight of time by chatting with their Spanish companions and adding new words and phrases to their already fair knowledge of the language.
Much to their surprise nothing occurred to alarm the lads during the night. At daybreak Charley climbed up on the steel crane and took a good look over the country, but he could discover no trace of the enemy or any sign of campfire smoke.
With the break of day the fireman came out to get up steam, and Charley with his men returned to camp. "I can't see any trace of them or their campfire," he told his chum, "and I believe I've hit upon the reason why we were not molested last night."
"Let's have it," said Walter eagerly.
"I believe they think they have put us out of business with the killing of the mules and the burning of our wood supply," Charley answered. "Of course they will soon discover their mistake and be at it again."
"Maybe they have gone back to town," his chum suggested hopefully, but Charley shook his head decidedly. "They would not go far," he declared positively. "They know it will not take us more than four or five days at the most to get another pair of mules and start up again. Well, let's be thankful for their giving us even one night's peace. I am going to get a bite to eat and turn in, and I advise you to do the same. If we wake up early enough we'll take the truck, run in to town and see if that electric light has come."
"All right," Walter agreed.
It was nearly sundown when the boys awoke, so the purposed trip was not made. As the machine was now working again, there was no need of a guard on it, so the boys agreed to divide up the camp watch. One standing guard with the Spaniards until midnight, and the other one from midnight until morning. "I'll take the first watch," Charley said, "then I can get a good nap and run into town in the morning."
Before going out to his post, Charley sauntered over to the Indian's camp and exchanged greetings with Willie John. "Did you see any pale-faces in the woods to-day?" he inquired.
The Seminole shook his head. "No see strange pale-face," he said. "See campfire. Him one sleep old. Pale-faces gone."
"Well," said Charley, puzzled. "You must not go near any pale-face camp in woods. They very bad men. Maybe they shoot you or oxen. You understand?"
"Yes, me understand," said the Seminole. "No go near campfires any more."
"The gunmen have either moved camp or gone to town," the lad remarked to his chum when he returned to camp. "But we will keep watch just the same. It may be only a ruse to throw us off our guard."
The night passed away, however, without the slightest alarm, much to the lad's relief. Charley slept later than usual in the morning, and when he emerged from his tent he found the Captain waiting for him.
"One of the graders is sick," the old sailor informed him. "I wish you would take a look at him. He looks to me to be pretty badly off."
The lad found the sick man, one of their best workers, tossing restlessly on his cot, his face a brick red.
"What's the matter, Meticas?" he said cheerfully as he felt of the sick man's hot face.
"Plenty sick, señor," said the sufferer. "Plenty not all the time. No can work to-day. Work to-morrow, maybe."
"Don't you worry about the work," said the lad kindly. "I go to town this morning, get doctor. He will make you well pretty quick."
"Thanks, señor," said the man gratefully.
"It looks to me like a case of jungle fever," the lad said as he joined the Captain.
"It's working in that nasty mud all the time that has made him sick," the old sailor declared. "The hot sun burning down on that foul muck is enough to make an alligator sick. It don't bother me much, for I get off to one side and keep out of it. It's hardest on the ground men and the graders. They are in it all the time. They don't complain any, but I notice they are getting sores all over their legs from standing in it. It would not surprise me if more of them came down before long."
"I hope not," Charley said fervently. "We are in enough trouble as it is. I am going in and get a doctor for him this morning. You can take out one of the guards with you to take Meticas' place."
As soon as he had eaten breakfast, the lad took the truck and started for town. By noon he was back in camp again.
"Gosh, you made a quick trip," Walter commented.
"I didn't go to town," Charley said dejectedly. "Two miles from here is as far as I could get with the truck."
"Why?" demanded his chum.
"Bridges blown up by dynamite from there on," said the other briefly. "I walked ahead two miles from where I left the truck and there was not a bridge but what was wholly or partly wrecked."
"Whew!" whistled Walter, "that will shut us off from getting more supplies."
"That's what it was intended to do," said his chum wearily, "but, I think, we can fool them on that point if we act quickly. Has Willie John come in for his dinner yet?"
"I think he is over at his camp now."
"Come on over with me," Charley said. "We have got to act quickly or we will find ourselves penned up out here without food."
They found Willie John and his family squatted around a big iron pot full of bear meat into which they kept dipping their hands and fishing after choice tid-bits.
"This afternoon you and boy go to Indiantown for us," Charley said. "You tell all of tribe we want to buy plenty yams, corn, pumpkins, pigs, and two cattle, then go out to trading-post and buy all the flour, sugar and coffee Mr. Bowers will sell. Have Indians bring all here to camp quick. Pretty soon bad pale-faces tear up bridge so we can no get grub. You understand?"
"Yes, me understand," said the Seminole. "Me go on foot. Indians got plenty of wagons to bring grub. Go much faster walk. Boy and squaw drive oxen and haul wood while I am gone."
"Good," Charley approved. "You come over to camp before you go and I give you plenty of money to buy grub with."
"That will settle the food question for quite a while," the lad observed, as the two boys sauntered back to the tent.
"We don't really need anything from town for quite a while, except a doctor. I am going to see if I cannot do something for the sick man, but if he gets worse, we will have to get a couple of Indian ponies and go in for a doctor. By leaving the road and taking to the woods one can pick their way into town, but it would make a long, tiresome, dangerous journey, and we don't want to attempt it unless we absolutely have to."
Charley found the sick man about as he had left him, hot with fever and tossing restlessly. After viewing his condition carefully, the lad went back to his tent and got out the little medicine chest they usually carried with them.
"What are you going to give him?" Walter inquired.
"A big dose of calomel now, and as soon as the fever passes off I will give him two grain doses of quinine every two hours," said Charley promptly. "That's what the doctors always give for these swamp fevers. I am not much afraid of this kind of fever. It seldom kills and when properly treated it is easily cured. Of course it leaves one weak for a while, and not able to do much work. I wish, though, that I knew what to do to keep the mud from making sores on the men. I am more afraid of the sores than I am of the fever."
"I don't know anything about medicine," said Walter thoughtfully, "but it is evident that the sores come from germs or poisons in the mud. Now if the men would put carbolic acid in the water when they bathe morning and night and then put on some carbolic salve, I believe it would check or kill that which makes the sores."
"I believe you're right," Charley agreed. "We will have them try it anyway. As soon as I can get to town I am going to get leggins for them all. That will keep the mud from coming in direct contact with their skins. Well, we had better get what rest we can now. Those fellows have finished with the bridges and they will likely be back to make us more trouble to-night. I don't feel as though I had got enough sleep anyway."
The two lads wisely retired to their cots, where they gained a couple of hours of good hard slumber from which they were awakened by the arrival of Willie John returning from his errand. "Wagons come pretty soon, bring plenty grub," he informed them.
Before dark the wagons began to arrive, loaded with yams, pumpkins, corn, and young pigs, besides all the flour, sugar and coffee Mr. Bowers had been able to spare from the trading-post.
The boys viewed the supply of food with satisfaction.
"There's enough to run us a couple of months," Charley declared, "and by that time we will either be doing well or else driven off the job." Before night fell the lad went in and took another look at the sick man. The fever had left him, so he gave him the first dose of two grains of quinine. "Repeat it every two hours until you go to bed," he told the Captain, who had come in from work. "I'll manage to slip in a couple of times after you retire and give it to him."
"There is another one coming down with it," the old sailor said gloomily. "Rama has been yawning and complaining of aching bones all day."
"Send him in here and to-morrow take out one of the guards in his place," said the lad promptly. "I am going to have the rest of the men move out of this tent into the others and turn this one into a hospital tent where the men can be quiet and undisturbed."
The Spaniards sharing the sick man's tent willingly complied with Charley's request and moved their belongings to the other tents in which there was plenty of room for them. With Walter's assistance the lad cleaned the tent out thoroughly and tied back the flaps at both ends to permit the free circulation of air. Rama was made to go to bed on a second cot and given a dose of the same medicine given the other. This done, Charley called the balance of the graders and ground men together and gave them a large bottle of carbolic acid and a box of salve, instructing them how to use both. It was now getting dark, and after a hasty supper the boys with their two Spaniards repaired to the guard line. Before night, however, Walter had climbed a small tree and taken a survey of the country. Much to his disappointment, he had seen smoke rising from the convicts' old camping place, showing that the gunmen had returned to their old haunts.
"I wonder how they manage to find our camp so easy at night," the lad remarked, as he and his chum met on their rounds. "When McCarty and I were out hunting that time we could not see this camp from theirs, and after we camped in the thicket we could not see their camp, although we were not over half a mile away. The white mist blotted out everything."
"That digging light way up on the machine's boom guides them," Charley answered. "The mist is densest close to the ground. The further up one goes the thinner it gets; consequently they can see that light even when they can't see our campfire."
"Simple enough, after all," Walter commented. "It's the simple things that puzzle one the most sometimes."
"Which reminds me of what Mr. Bruce hinted," Charley said, "that the solution of our mystery was in plain sight all the time, but hanged if I haven't puzzled over it till I made my head swim and can't make it out."
"Same here," Walter said. "I hope he is right and can make an end to this trouble, but I doubt it."
"Well, we will know in a few days. He promised to be out again within a week."
The lads turned back on their patrol and the conversation ceased.
The hours slipped slowly away while the four guards kept up their slow, weary, monotonous pacing back and forth. Three times Charley slipped in and administered doses of quinine. On the last trip he passed by the cook tent and, striking a match, glanced at the clock inside.
"It's just midnight," he said as he rejoined his chum. "That seems to be the favorite time for their devilment. I suppose we can look for trouble any minute now." He had hardly finished when there came the sharp crack of rifles from about the machine. "Good," Charley exclaimed, "they haven't all got silent guns this time. Those reports will give our men an idea where to shoot."
"Hadn't we better go out there?" Walter asked.
"No, we may have our hands full here," his chum replied. "Besides, the engineer will whistle if he wants us. Gee, look at that!"
The swinging platform of the machine was turning around and around at great speed and from it burst forth little jets of flame as the machine men answered the enemy's fire.
"Good boy, McCarty," Walter exclaimed. "I guess they will have a job hitting any of your men." He ducked as a bullet whizzed close by him.
"Watch out!" Charley cried, "they have got the camp surrounded, too."
"Shoot wherever you see a flash, then step to one side so they won't locate your position."
The Captain, Chris and the two engineers came running from the camp half dressed with their guns in their hands. By the time they reached the line, the rifles of both defenders and attackers were crackling merrily and the bullets were whining back and forth. For half an hour the firing continued on both sides, then the attacking party slowly withdrew, firing as they retired. The attempt on the machine had quickly been silenced, and McCarty was digging again as though nothing had happened. Lanterns were lit and the defenders took stock of the damage done. Captain Westfield had a scratch on the leg where a bullet had grazed, one of the Spaniards had lost a finger tip, and a cow staked out within the line had been killed. Whether the enemy had suffered from their fire they could not tell.
"I doubt if they were hurt much," Charley observed. "I think they did most of their fighting from behind trees. We want to take a lesson from them on that. To-morrow we will have to fix up some kind of protection to get behind when the fun begins. I do not expect we will get off as lucky next time as we did this. I believe they were trying to scare us this time more than anything else."
Satisfied that the trouble was over for the night, the Captain and his companions returned to bed while the lads resumed their weary round of sentinel duty. Nothing more occurred to disturb them, and they were heartily glad when day at last came. As soon as it grew light enough to see well, the two lads went out and examined the place from which their enemies had fired. They found nothing, however, but a few drops of blood on the grass beside a tree. "Some one got barked a little here," Charley observed. "It wasn't anything serious, however, or there would be more blood around."
The boys had just finished breakfast when one of the Spaniards came in from the machine.
"Boss, McCarty want you to come out to the machine," he said to Charley.
"I wonder what the trouble is now," said the boy wearily, as he arose and put on his hat. "Want to walk out with me, Walt?"
"Sure," his chum assented.
"What's the matter?" Charley asked of the white-faced Spaniard who accompanied them back.
The Spaniard hastily crossed himself. "God knows," he said with a shudder. "It's blood that we wash in and blood that we drink. May the Blessed Virgin forgive us."
As they were near the machine, the lads did not question him further, but hastened on to where McCarty was standing a little ways beyond the road.
"What's the matter?" Charley asked the engineer.
"You can see for yourself," was the reply. "Look at that little brook over there where we have been getting our water. Last night it was just ordinary sweet, pure, cold water, but just look at it now."
The two lads stepped over to the tiny brook McCarty pointed out. It was only a few feet wide and three or four inches in depth, except where the machine men had dug a hole a couple of feet deep to make possible the dipping up of a few bucketfuls at a time. The boy's eyes opened wide with wonder and surprise, for the waters of the little rill were red like blood.
"Queer, isn't it?" said McCarty. "Hanged if I can account for it."
"I have seen brooks of that color where the water flowed over red bay tree roots," Walter volunteered.
"That color does not come from bay roots," objected the other. "You want to remember that it was all right and colorless yesterday. We got a fresh pail of water about two hours ago. Of course we did not notice the color then because it was dark, but one of the men went to get a drink a while ago and I thought he would throw a fit when he saw the color of the stuff he had been drinking. Bossie washed his face and hands in the brook a couple of hours ago and just look at him now." The lads glanced at the Spaniard, whose frightened face was a bright red. "They want to quit," McCarty continued in a low voice. "This, coming after all the other mystery, has scared them out of their wits. Unless you can hit upon some reasonable explanation of this thing and do it quick, I am afraid the whole gang will quit. They have been crossing themselves and muttering prayers to the Virgin for the last hour."
A glance at the three frightened Spaniards convinced the two lads that McCarty was not exaggerating the seriousness of the situation.
"Keep them here until I come back," Charley told him softly. "Come on, Walt, I am going to follow that rill up to its source."
They had not far to go. A couple of hundred yards from the machine they found the rill's source among a clump of willows. Here a little spring bubbled up from the ground. Near its mouth, fastened tightly to a stake, was an object that caused the boy to utter exclamations of surprise and relief. It was a muslin bag capable of holding eight or ten pounds and it was stained a bright red. It had been cunningly placed in a narrow part of the rill and the dirt banked up on both sides so that all the water from the spring would have to pass through or over it.
"Don't touch it," Charley said. "Go bring the machine men here. I want to make this an object lesson to them."
While Walter was gone on this errand, the lad gathered up several pasteboard packages that lay scattered around on the ground. He noted with satisfaction that the directions on them were printed in Spanish as well as English.
In a few minutes Walter was back with the wondering Spaniards. Relief began to replace the look of fright on their faces as Charley silently pointed out to them the red stained bag and, untying it from the stake, undid the string closing its mouth and shook out on the ground a mass of water-soaked red powder. He picked up three of the packages he had collected and gave one to each of the Spaniards. "Read," he said shortly. The Spaniards burst out laughing as they grasped the cause of the thing that had so frightened them.
"Our enemies want to stop us from building this road," Charley said in Spanish. "They are fools. They think by firing off their guns in the air at night, starting fires in the grass, and coloring water red with dyes, that they can frighten away the brave, noble sons of Spain. Surely they are fools."
"They are fools," agreed Bossie, now completely recovered from his fright. "They might frighten children, but Spaniards never. No other race is as brave and fearless as the sons of Spain."
When the boys left the machine to return to camp the men were in the highest of spirits and the ground men were joking Bossie about his red face.
"I really believe that dye business is going to work out to our advantage," Charley remarked to his chum. "Those Spaniards will not be so likely to get frightened next time at a little thing they do not understand."
"I hope you're right," Walter said, "but, if these night attacks keep up much longer, I believe all the men will quit, and I shall not blame them if they do. One cannot expect men to work hard and then have targets made of them every night, all for $2.00 a day."
"No," Charley agreed, "but we have got to hold them as long as we can. I am in hopes that Mr. Bruce will come to our rescue in some way. If he does not and this sort of thing continues, we are bound to go under sooner or later. We will simply be unable to keep men on the job."
"How do we stand now?" Walter asked.
"I haven't figured it out exactly," his chum replied, "but we are not much ahead of the game, for our expenses so far have been enormous. After this month's wages have been paid the men we will have but little left. Of course, we have got the part of the reward for the convicts coming and the money from the sale of the rings, but we have got neither of those yet and we cannot tell when we will get them. We are well equipped for three months ahead now, plenty of food, a new pair of mules on the way, and new parts for the machine. We will be under but little expense for several months to come. We are making good money on the digging, and if we could continue it in peace, we would have a good lump sum coming to us at the end of the job. But if this interference keeps up, the machine will be laid up and we will be broke—that's all."
"But there's the money for what we have already done," suggested Walter hopefully.
"We will not get that until the middle of next month," his chum said gloomily. "If we are forced to quit the job before then we will get nothing. The county will keep it for failure to carry out our contract. We have just simply got to keep the machine working, that's all."
When the boys arrived at camp, Charley went at once to the hospital tent, where he found both sick men slightly improved. He left four quinine tablets with each, with directions to take one every two hours. To Chris he gave instructions to prepare some rich broth and dry toast for the invalids. This done, the two lads turned in and slept soundly until well along in the afternoon.
They found the Captain had not been idle while they rested. With his graders he had thrown up mounds of dirt and roots every fifty feet circling the camp.
"Good!" approved Charley, as he viewed the old sailor's work. "When we get behind those we will be fairly safe from bullets. I wish those trees out there were out of the way. They give the enemy too much protection."
"There are only about a dozen of them big enough to give any protection," Walter observed. "Why not blow them up with dynamite?"
The suggestion was a good one and they immediately set about carrying it out. Assisted by the Captain with his graders, they dug holes under the trees' roots and placing several sticks of dynamite under each, thus exploded them with a fuse and cap. The powerful explosive blew the big trees clear out of the ground and in some cases many feet above ground before they fell.
"That's better," said Charley, with satisfaction when the job was completed.
"We can make still another improvement," Walter suggested. "Why not set fire to the roots? They are pitchy enough to burn good and the fires will show up any one trying to approach the camp."
The idea was so feasible that the lads carried it out at once, and by the time night fell a bright glowing ring of fires surrounded the camp.
"I don't believe they will bother us to-night with all those fires going, but we'll keep watch just the same," Charley said. "We cannot be too careful."
The camp was not molested during the night, but about the middle of the night there came explosions at regular intervals from the direction of Indiantown.
Charley chuckled. "They are shutting the stable door after the horse is stolen," he remarked. "They are blowing up the bridges between here and Indiantown."
"I expected that would be their next move. That's why I was in such a hurry to get the provisions from the Indians."
"But the blowing up of the bridges ahead of us will stop the machine," Walter said.
"No, it will only delay us a little," his chum replied. "It's easily remedied. When the machine gets to a blown-up bridge it will simply face around and fill up the gap with mud and sand, and after it has passed over it will dig out the gap again and our bridgemen will put in a new bridge, which they would have to do anyway."
"I see," said Walter, greatly relieved. "Things are not always as bad as they seem."
But while the lads had reason to be thankful for a quiet night, they were not encouraged by the state of affairs in the camp next morning. Two more men, a ground man and a grader, were down with the fever. The condition of the other two sick men was greatly improved, but it was plainly evident that it would still be several days before they would be strong enough to go to work.
The lads provided the new sick ones with medicine and made them as comfortable as they could before they themselves retired to rest.
"You'll have to get along with one man to-day, and let the other one go on the machine gang," Charley told the Captain. "To-morrow the guards will be rested up and you can have them to help you. Walt and I will keep watch alone hereafter."
"If this thing keeps up much longer it will not need the enemy to put us out of business," he remarked to his chum as they prepared for bed. "We can't spare another man off the job. If just one more man caves in we will only be able to run the machine half time, and that's a losing proposition. The worst of it is that we cannot get into town to get more men until Canady returns with the mules. I can't imagine what's keeping him. He ought to have been back yesterday."
"Well, let's not worry until the things actually happen," said Walter sleepily, as he stretched out on his cot. "It don't pay to cross a bridge until you get to it."
"We have got to set fire to that jungle to-day," said Charley some hours later, as rested and refreshed, the lads ate their mid-afternoon meal. "The machine is within a thousand feet of it now. It will not do to wait until it gets closer, for the heat from that fire is going to be intense. We can't do better than to start it right now. The wind is blowing away from the machine, so the crew will not be troubled with the smoke."
The boys stopped at the first wood pile and split up a log of fat pine into long sticks for torches. Carrying these and a plentiful supply of matches, they made their way out to the edge of the jungle, which was not far from their new camp. Lighting their torches, one went north and the other south, scattering fire as they went. After they had started blazes for a couple of hundred yards either way, they returned to the road and watched the progress of the flames.
"Isn't there danger of its sweeping on into Indiantown?" asked Walter, as the flames began to mount skyward.
"No," replied his chum. "I made sure of that before I decided to set fire to it. There is a creek running along the other side of the jungle that will stop its progress. Just look at it. Did you ever see anything like it?"
The two boys stood and watched with awe the mighty conflagration they had started. The jungle was filled with dead and dying trees which flamed up like tinder at the fire's breath. Soon the flames were shooting up forty or fifty feet high and the roaring was like that of a mighty tempest. The heat quickly grew so intense that the boys were compelled to retreat slowly back to the machine. Even there the heat could be felt, although it was a thousand feet to the jungle and the wind was blowing the fire away from them.
The engineer stopped the machine for a few minutes to give all hands a chance to view the wonderful sight.
As the pillars of flame and smoke reared themselves skyward, the boys realized with astonishment that the jungle that had seemed so lifeless was really teeming with life. From both sides of the mighty blaze rose great flocks of blue and white cranes, egrets, whoopers, owls, parrots, great scarlet flamingoes, and dozens of strange birds the like of which the boys had never seen before. Nor was animal life lacking in either number or variety. Hundreds of hairy swamp rabbits, as big as a small dog, poured out from their doomed hiding places. Great big rats by the thousands swarmed by the machine. A couple of deer went by, covering the ground with great bounds. Wild cats, foxes, squirrels poured forth in great numbers. One huge, sprawling object emerged from the thicket and lumbered toward the machine, but before reaching it turned aside and sunk with a splash in a nearby lake.
"Whew!" breathed the engineer, "that was the grandfather of all alligators. He must be all of twenty feet long."
As the fire spread to either side the flow of animal life was diverted in other directions and their rushing by the machine ceased.
"I believe that fire will kill every snake in the jungle," Charley declared with satisfaction.
"I doubt it. They will just keep under water until it is all over," his chum replied.
"That water is shoal and stagnant," Charley reminded him. "Burning branches and trees are dropping in it all the time. I'll bet it is actually boiling by now."
When night came Charley and Walter had to go on the picket line alone, for the two remaining Spanish guards would have to join the grading gang in the morning. They adopted the plan the first two Spanish guards had used of each one making a half circle of the camp. For several hours they paced wearily back and forth, but as midnight drew near they became more watchful and alert, for this was the hour that their enemies generally chose to make their attacks.
All the camp was fast asleep and silence reigned unbroken, except for the exhaust of the machine and the occasional heavy fall of a fire-eaten tree in the jungle. But in their loneliness the boys were comforted by the knowledge that in their tents Captain, Chris, the engineers, and many of the Spaniards were sleeping, fully dressed with their guns by their sides, ready to run to the lads' assistance at the first alarm.
And soon it came, the sharp crack of rifles around both camp and machine. The two lads answered promptly, firing at the bright streaks of the blazing rifles in the darkness.
"Keep down, keep down. Get behind the sand heaps," Charley shouted, as those in the tents came running to their assistance. "Keep down. They are shooting to kill this time."
A rain of bullets thudded against the sand heaps as the defenders dropped behind them and fired over the tops. The darkness was pierced with streaks of spurting fire as rifle spoke to rifle. It was evident that the enemy were shooting to kill, and the defenders did the same. Wherever a rifle flash lit up the darkness they aimed at the place and quickly fired. Occasional cries and oaths told them that some of their bullets were finding their mark. But they were not to go unhurt for their part. Charley, who had raised himself up to fire, felt the thud of a bullet and his left arm dropped helplessly by his side. In the excitement he felt no pain, but, letting go his rifle, he drew his automatic and blazed away with it. Walter, behind the next pile, had his straw hat shot off his head. Bob Bratton pitched forward on his face and lay still and motionless, while one of the Spaniards sank to the ground, his hand clapped to a wounded leg and cursed fluently. Once Walter glanced back at the machine. Its platform was revolving rapidly and the rifles of its crew were spatting viciously. But the enemy did not now have the protection of the trees, and they could not long face the hail of lead being poured upon them. Their firing suddenly ceased. From where they had stood came piercing shrieks, and following the shrieks came frightened yells and the thud of running feet.
"Captain, take most of the men and go to the aid of the machine," Charley commanded. "The fighting is over here." The old sailor hurried away, followed by McCarty and most of the Spaniards.
From the darkness ahead of the two boys still came the awful shrieks.
"Chris, get a lantern, we must find out what's the matter out there," Charley said.
The little negro was back in a minute with the light and, taking it from him, Walter led the way hastily toward the shrieks which were growing fainter. He was closely followed by his chum and Chris with their automatics in their hands. As the lantern lit up the scene of the shrieks, Walter shrank back with a cry of fear and horror. A hideous head with lidless gleaming eyes was reared many feet above the ground. Recovering himself with an effort, the lad raised his automatic and fired directly between the gleaming eyes. At the same minute Charley and Chris discharged their weapons and the hideous head fell to the ground.
Holding aloft the light, the three frightened boys advanced cautiously. Its rays shone down on a sickening sight. On the ground lay one of the gunmen crushed into a shapeless mass, while, still partly coiled around the man's body, a great boa constrictor writhed in its last death struggles.
"Ugh!" shuddered Walter, "I did not know there was such an awful thing in Florida."
"Fire drove it out of the jungle, I guess," said Charley jerkingly. "Let's get back to camp. Bratton has fallen and one of the Spaniards is badly hurt. We can do nothing here, it's all over."
They had carried Bratton in and laid him upon his cot and were helping the wounded Spaniard in, when Walter cried:
"Look at the machine! Look at the machine!"
The machine and the air about it was a mass of flames. Black figures were leaping from its platform.
"Rifle bullet hit gas tank," muttered Charley dreamily. "Explosion. Can't work nights. Keep her going daytimes, Walt. Enough men unhurt to do that. I'm tired, awfully tired. Think I'll go to sleep pretty soon," and the lad, weak from loss of blood, sank unconscious to the ground.
When Charley opened his eyes it was to find himself in his cot, his arm neatly bound in splints, the sun shining in the open tent flaps, and Walter sitting on a box by his side.
"How did I get here?" he asked in wonder. "The last I remember was the machine being in flames."
"You keeled over in a faint," Walter replied cheerfully. "Loss of blood, I guess."
"Was there any one killed?" Charley demanded anxiously.
"We thought Bratton was for a while, but the bullet hit a rib and glanced out again, making only a flesh wound. He'll be all right again in a week. The three Spaniards on the machine got pretty badly burned, but not dangerously so. Luckily for them, the ditch was there. They jumped right off the machine into it. The engineer by some miracle escaped without a burn. Sicavia, the Spaniard that was wounded in the leg, will be around again in a few days. He has only got a flesh wound. I guess that's all, except we buried that dead gunman this morning."
"The machine, is it running?" Charley questioned eagerly.
"Yes, I got them to start her up again this morning. But we can't run her nights for we have neither lights nor a night crew."
"Go on," said Charley gravely. "I see that there's worse to follow."
"Well, if you will have it, I suppose you might as well learn it now as a little later," Walter said. "The fact is the whole gang of Spaniards are going to quit. I had hard work to get any of them to remain over to-day."
"I suppose this is the end," said Charley, with a wry smile. "Well, we have fought a good fight, and I, for one, am not going to give up yet."
"There is such a thing as knowing when one is licked," his chum said sadly, "and I think about every one on the job has reached that point. I do not see how we can do anything more."
Charley lay quiet for a minute thinking, then he said quietly: "Will you get me about a pint of hot, strong coffee, Walt?"
"Sure," answered his chum quickly, glad to see Charley taking the ill news so quietly.
When he returned it was to find his chum sitting on the edge of his cot trying to dress, but making an awkward job of it with only one hand.
"You must not get up," he protested, but Charley only smiled and said lightly: "Nonsense, a broken arm is no excuse for lying in bed. Why, it don't even pain me much. The pain will come later when the bone begins to knit. Will you please get all the men together? I want to talk with them a bit."
When Walter had gone the lad finished dressing and drank the strong coffee, which put new strength in his body.
When he emerged from the tent it was to find that his chum had gathered together in a body outside all the men but those confined to the hospital tent. He had even brought in the men from the machine, which had been stopped for the purpose.
Charley wasted no time in idle words, but came directly to the point.
"My chum tells me, men, that you all want to quit," he said in Spanish.
"Si, señor, si, señor (Yes sir, yes sir), came the eager answer from the crowd.
"You are your own masters," continued the lad. "Of course, you are free to quit whenever you want to and there will be no trouble about getting your money when you wish to go, although your month is not up yet." He paused for a moment and looked over the eager faces gathered before him, before he continued: "I would not attempt to keep you on this job against your will, but I will say that I think it is foolish of you to quit now. All the bridges between here and Jupiter have been destroyed, so I cannot take you in with the truck. To attempt to make your way in through the woods and carry your belongings with you would be folly, for the way would be long and winding and you would run the risk of getting lost. Besides, there are several of your companions who are sick and unable to travel. Surely you do not want to desert them. Now, what I wish to propose is this: You all know the teamster has gone in to get more mules. We expect him back any hour. When he comes if you are still minded to quit, we will hire an Indian guide and send you in by wagon. Until he comes, I would ask you to continue at work. Our lights on the machine are ruined so we can only work day times, and in the day time you are in no danger from our enemies. Those of you who do not work on the machine will throw up breastworks all around the camp so that we will be well protected at night."
When he ceased the Spaniards drew to one side for consultation. In a few minutes Bossie came forward and said in his quaint broken English:
"We stay till by and bye, wagon come, then catchee town. We all likee Boss plenty. Likee grub, likee job, but no likee mud, no likee fever, no likee shooting all the time. We work till wagon come—no more."
"Good," said Charley, "you can go back to work now. It might be worse," he remarked to his chum. "The machine will be kept going day times anyway."
The two lads next visited the hospital tent, where they found the fever patients much improved but the three machine men suffering greatly from their burns, while Bob Bratton and the wounded Spaniards were resting as comfortably as could be expected. The boys did all they could to make the sufferers comfortable, then sauntered out for a look at the burned jungle. Here they met with a scene of utter desolation. Many trees and stumps were still burning, but the larger part of the jungle had been swept clean. The shallow pools of water had been dried up by the intense heat, leaving exposed an expanse of black mud fissured by cracks. Of the former multitude of snakes that had infested the place they saw not one. Returning from the destroyed jungle, the lads searched over the scene of battle of the night before. They found blood on the ground in several places, indicating that all their bullets had not been wasted. Before entering the tent, Charley paused and took a last look around. Several Spaniards, under the Captain's direction, were throwing up a solid breastwork, close to and surrounding the camp. The machine was working steadily, and the slow moving ox carts were crawling back from the distant timber with their loads of wood. The Indian camp had been outside of the fighting zone the night before. With a sigh, the wounded lad entered his tent and throwing himself on his cot, gave way to his despair. Try as he might, he could see nothing but ruin for himself and companions. There was little hope of getting another crew for the machine. The departing Spaniards would carry the story of their disasters in with them, and it would be impossible to induce others to come out. A negro crew might be secured, but it would take time, and the lad knew the colored race well enough to know that they would not stick in the face of danger.
The crew's wages would take almost the last dollar they had in the bank, and if the County insisted, as he feared it would, on their rebuilding the destroyed bridges, the reward for the convicts, the money they had found in the old fort, and what was due on the digging they had already done, would be swept away to the last cent. In no direction could he see any hope. In spite of all his efforts and careful planning, their mysterious enemy had triumphed, and he and his companions were ruined. He did not blame the Spaniards for quitting. The work was hard enough and dangerous enough to bear, without the added risk of being shot in the dark.
At last, worn out by his gloomy reflections, the lad fell into a fitful slumber from which he was awakened by Walter, who was pale of face and excited.
"What's the matter?" Charley demanded as he sat up on the edge of the cot. "You look as though you had seen a ghost."
"I hate to tell you," faltered his chum, "but I knew you would have to hear about it, so I ran ahead to break the news to you myself."
"Out with it," Charley said. "I'm strong enough to bear anything now."
"You know the Indian lad that drives one of the wagon teams—the boy Willie John is so proud of—they just found him dead on his load of wood—shot through the heart."
"The fiends," said Charley, "to shoot a poor, innocent, harmless child. They shall pay for it. Pay for it dearly." He threw aside the tent flap and strode out, Walter by his side babbling over the details of the tragedy.
"You ought to have seen Willie John's face when he found him," he said. "It was like a demon's for a minute, then it became like stone."
Charley made his way out to the Indian camp, where the Spaniards and the Americans were already gathered. The squaws were breaking up camp, while Willie John sat in one of the wagons holding the dead lad in his arms.
"Willie John, Willie John," said Charley brokenly. "We never thought anything like this would happen. We never dreamed those fiends would fire on you or the lad."
"Me understand," said the Seminole without emotion. "You no to blame. Bad pale-faces in wood did it."
"We will see that they are punished for it, Willie John," Charley promised, with tears in his eyes. "We will do all in our power to bring them to justice."
"Me understand," said the Seminole, and added simply as he gazed down at the lad in his arms: "Him was good boy. Him no smoke, no drink wyomee. Him save every little bit of money he get so by and bye him go to school all the same as pale-face boy. Him was very good boy."
The boys watched the lumbering, slow moving wagons out of sight with unashamed tears in their eyes. Then Charley turned to the machine men. "Rake out your fire and make everything snug on the machine," he said quietly. "There will be no more work for there will be no more wood."
When the machine men, their task done, had gathered with the others at the camp, the lad addressed them again.
"You have all seen what has happened to-day," he said quietly. "A bright, innocent, harmless child murdered simply because he was working for us. We hardly deserve the name of human if we do nothing to avenge his death. It is getting too near night to do anything to-day, but I am going to call for volunteers to go with me to-morrow morning to either capture his murderers or wipe them out of existence. Who will go with me?"
His chums and the two engineers stepped promptly to his side, and the Spaniards followed one by one.
"Good," said the lad, with a sad smile. "We will start at daylight."
There was no singing or laughter in the camp that night, for each man carried to his tent with him the reflection that the morrow might see him as dead as the Indian child they were going to avenge. There were plenty of men to act as guards for the night now that the machine was not working, so Charley retired early to his tent and soon fell asleep. At daybreak the guards awoke him and his companions as they had been ordered to do, and reported that the night had passed off without alarms. Chris soon had breakfast ready and over cups of strong steaming coffee their plans for the expedition were made.
When the sun arose ten Spaniards and seven Americans armed with guns and pistols filed out of the little camp and silently tramped away for where a distant smudge of smoke showed the location of the gunmen's campfire. Only enough more remained behind to guard the camp.
The little party of avengers advanced with caution. They marched in a twisting line so as to always keep a hummock or a bunch of spruces between them and the distant camp smoke so that their approach would not be noticed. As they slowly drew nearer double caution was observed, but at last they came upon an open stretch of prairie which they must cross to reach the thicket in which the gunmen's camp was located.
"Here is where they take the alarm," commented Charley, as they emerged out upon the open prairie.
But the little party crossed the open stretch without any sign of life from the gunmen.
"They have either moved or are sound asleep," he said. "Get your guns ready. Don't fire unless I give the word. Follow me, and make as little noise as you can."
The little party filed into the thicket, the chums and engineers in the lead and the Spaniards following close behind. At the edge of the cleared camping place the little party halted in horrified amazement. They had come to avenge the killing of the Indian lad, but another avenger had come before them. Sprawled upon the ground in all manner of attitudes, lay eighteen men—all dead.
"Lord!" breathed McCarty softly. "Who could have done it?"
"There is only one answer to that question," said Charley gravely. "Those whose right it was to do it, if the taking of human life is ever right. Look at those heads."
The others shuddered with horror as they gazed upon the reddened skulls from which the scalp locks had been skillfully removed. Aside from that nothing had been touched, guns still lay where they had fallen and tents and supplies were undisturbed.
"The Seminoles," exclaimed Walter, and his chum nodded assent.
Two men were sent back to the camp for shovels, and when they returned graves were dug in the sandy soil and the dead men laid to rest. A search of their clothing and belongings gave little clew to the strange men's identity, but from the quantity of tablets and powders found upon them, and their dissipated appearance, the boys decided that they were members of that deadly drug-crazed band of New York gunmen.
Their sickening task finished, the little party headed back for camp.
"I am glad, after all, that it is not by our hands that they fell," Charley said to his chums as they tramped along. "To take life, even in the heat of passion, is a terrible thing."
"Aye, aye, lad," said Captain Westfield reverently. "The Good Book truly says, 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.'"
The little party arrived back in camp by noon. Much to their surprise, they found Willie John back again with his wagons busily engaged in making camp.
"Me come back, haul more wood," explained the Seminole simply.
During dinner there was great chattering and whispering at the Spaniards' table, and after the meal was over Bossie, always their spokesman, approached Charley.
"Spanish hombres (men) no want to quit now," he said in his quaint English. "They likee boss, they likee grub, likee job. They no be shot at nights any more. They want to stay on job now. They think it much more better."
"All right, Bossie," replied the lad listlessly. "We can only work half time now until the mules come and I can go in and get the electric light."
"I will be glad when this job is over," he told Walter. "The violence, trouble, and bloodshed have destroyed all my interest in the work. The gunmen will bother us no more, but I am wondering already where the enemy will strike next. The gunmen were only tools."
"Cheer up," said his chum, with an attempt at cheerfulness. "The darkest hour is always just before the dawn."
One and all in the camp now began to look forward to the coming of Canady with the mules. The Spaniards because, until a new light was installed, they could only work half time and consequently could only earn half their usual wages. The rest of the party because they were getting really alarmed over the Missourian's long absence.
"He ought to have been back long before this," said Charley, the day after the tragic discovery of the dead gunmen. "If he does not show up by to-morrow morning, I am going to hire a pony from the Indians and start in and look for him. Something surely must have happened to him."
"If you do go in you are liable to miss him on the way," Walter objected. "He may come back by one route while you are going in by another. Better give him a little more time. Jim impressed me as being perfectly well able to look out for himself."
"You don't think he could have been tempted by the big amount of money he carried?" asked Captain Westfield, with some hesitation. "Five hundred dollars is a lot of money to a poor man."
"But not to Jim," Charley said decidedly. "Jim is a true Southerner and a thief is almost a curiosity among Southern races. No, Jim would not touch a cent that did not belong to him. Something has happened to him, that's all."
"Well, if you go in to-morrow, I am going with you," Walter said decidedly.
"We will talk that over later," Charley said. "We have nothing to do to-day so we might as well amuse ourselves and try to forget for a time that, if we are not actually ruined, we are pretty close to it."
"That's a good idea," his chum agreed heartily. "What shall the program be?"
"I would like to explore the country to the side of the road a bit, say out where you and McCarty went when you killed the deer. I have not been out that way yet."
"Suppose we all go," Walter suggested. "All can get away except the man running the machine, and even a little change like that will do a fellow a pile of good."
"Good!" Charley approved. "We will all go that want to and make a day of it."
It developed that all the Americans were eager for something in the way of a change. Even the Captain was willing to take a day off and Chris insisted that his assistant Sam was now competent to prepare a meal for those left behind. Armed with guns and lunch baskets, and with Bob, the dog, frisking ahead, the merry little party set out determined to have a pleasant time.
Quail was plentiful and a great number were bagged before the little party reached the prairie regions with its sandy bottomed lakes. They stopped by one of the lakes and rested at noon. They had brought fishing tackle with them and enjoyed huge sport pulling in the big fish with which the lake was full. Several of these roasted over the coals made a welcome addition to the lunch they had brought with them.
The afternoon was spent killing more quail, fishing, following up a homing bee which led them straight to a big hollow tree filled with delicious honey, and digging in the mounds which dotted the prairie. These mounds were found to contain quantities of human bones, arrow and spear heads, stone hatchets, and vessels of earthen ware. They were evidently the relics of a race long since gone out of existence, a race that lived in the country long before the Seminole Indians.
Tired but happy, the little party got back to camp just after sundown. Here a surprise greeted them, for they found the sheriff, and half a dozen of his aids, awaiting their arrival. The sheriff's face was very grave and he answered their cordial greetings crisply.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I have a warrant for the arrest of Charley West, Walter Hazard, Capt. Benjamin Westfield, Bob Bratton, Will Kitchner and C. P. McCarty (white), and Christopher Columbus (negro)."
The little party stared at each other in stupefied amazement.
"On what charge?" demanded Charley, recovering his breath.
"On the charge of being the principals and accessories before and after the fact in the murder of one Levi P. Morton, late of New York City, on the night of November 23d, 1913," read the sheriff droningly.
"That gunman!" gasped Walter. "Why no one murdered him, Mr. Sheriff. He was kicked to death by mules he attempted to poison."
"I shall have to warn you that anything you say can be used against you at your trial," said the sheriff sternly. "I have found the grave of the dead man near this camp."
"Rats!" sneered McCarty angrily. "No sane judge would hold us ten minutes on such a charge."
"Well," observed the sheriff coolly, "you will have a chance to test that. Even if I were convinced of your innocence, I would have to arrest you just the same. When a warrant is given me it is my sworn duty to serve it."
"The sheriff is right," Charley said hopelessly. "We will have to go with him, and we might as well do it without argument. The judge will turn us loose as soon as he hears our story, but it will be too late then."
"Too late for what, lad?" asked Captain Westfield.
"Why, can't you see this warrant is a put-up job," Charley exclaimed impatiently. "Don't you understand it's the latest move of the enemy to get us out of the way while they disable the machine and destroy our camp?"
"By Jove, I believe you're right," exclaimed McCarty.
"Right, of course I'm right," said the lad fiercely. "What other reason could there be for such an absurd charge? You will see that no one will appear against us when we are brought up in court. Well, the game's up, boys. We have all put up a good fight, but this settles it. I would not give ten cents for what we will find here if we return after being set free. May we have time enough, Mr. Sheriff, to pay off our men and pack up our things?"
"You can have all night," replied the officer. "We will not go in until morning. It's a long journey, for, with the bridges gone, we will have to pick our way back through the woods."
After our little party had finished a silent, gloomy supper, they retired to their tents to pack up their scattered belongings.
Charley called the workers to his tent one by one and gave each a check for a full month's wages. He made all of them promise to stay and guard camp and machine during their absence, but he really had but little hope that they would remain in camp long after all the Americans were gone.
Their packing done, the little party gathered around the campfire as gloomy and disheartened a little bunch of men as it would be possible to find. One of the larger of the tents had been given up to the sheriff and his posse, and to it the officer sent his tired men early, saying he would stand guard over the prisoners himself the first part of the night.
"Boys," he said, when the last one of his men had retired, "I hate to execute this warrant. I had to be stern to you before my men, for every one of them wants my job and would be glad to make any trouble they could for me at headquarters. Being as we are alone together now, I will say that I believe you fellows are as guiltless as a babe of the crime with which you are charged. I believe, as you say, that it's a frame-up, but I've got to take you all in to answer to it, unless——"
"Unless what?" asked Walter eagerly.
"Unless," said the sheriff suggestively, "you overpower me, tie me up, and make your escape to-night."
Charley grasped the meaning in the officer's tones. "No, it would be of no use," he said. "It might make you trouble and we would be no better off, compelled to hide out in the woods, than we would be in jail."
"I guess you're right," the sheriff admitted. "It's too bad, it's too bad."
"We thank you for your kindness," Charley said gratefully. "We know what your duty demands and do not blame you in the slightest for this. You could not do otherwise."
"I'm glad you understand that," said the sheriff, brightening. "By the way, I had to arrest your teamster, too, day before yesterday, on the same charge." He grinned at the recollection. "He was just starting out for here with a new pair of mules when we nabbed him. Lord, he fought like a wild cat and swore like a pirate while we were taking him to the lock-up."
"So that's why Jim hasn't come back," said Charley, with a grim smile.
"That's the reason," assented the sheriff. "He hasn't had a hearing before the judge yet. My eldest boy is looking out for the mules for him. When I left, Lawyer Bruce was flying around trying to get Jim out. Swore he would have him set free before noon."
"Did Mr. Bruce know you were coming out for us?" Charley inquired, with interest.
"I dropped him a hint," said the sheriff. "My, you ought to have heard him rave. He had Jim Canady's cussing beat a mile. He used longer words, and more of them."
"I'm glad he knows the position we are in," said the lad, with relief. "He may be able to help us in some way."
"Don't you worry, lad. Bruce will do all he can for you—he's that kind," said the sheriff kindly. "Now you had better all turn in and get a good night's rest. It will be a long hard trip in to-morrow."
All hands thanked the kind officer and retired to their tents, where they were soon fast asleep.
Chris, who, as usual, was the first one out in the morning, awakened the others with shouts of delight.
"Jim's coming," he cried in their ears. "Jim an' Mr. Bruce and that little man, Jones. They are within a half mile of camp."