CHAPTER XXII.
DISAPPOINTMENT.
As the speck drew nearer all doubt vanished, it was the captain's canoewith the old sailor himself in the stern paddling with slow, wearystrokes.
Walter's cheer had brought forth his companions from the wigwam, andall now gathered on the bank to welcome the wanderer.
Slowly the canoe drew in to the shore, and Walter at last was able tocatch the painter and haul the light craft's bow up on the sand. Itsoccupant sat still in the stern unable to move. His clothes werestained and tattered, his hands torn and bleeding from many scratches,and his pale, haggard face told of hardship and suffering.
"Don't look scairt, lads," he called out cheerily, "I ain't hurt none;jes' scratched up a bit, an' powerful tired. I reckon you'll have togive me a hand to get me out. I'm cramped that bad I can't move a leg."
Walter and Chris flew to the old sailor's help and between themassisted him out of the canoe and up into the wigwam. Then Chrisquickly kindled a fire and soon presented the weary man with a gourd ofsteaming coffee and the cold food which Walter hastened to bring fromthe canoe.
The captain ate like one famished, while the boys stood around eager tohear his story.
"I'll spin my yarn as soon as I've rested a hit, lads," he said, as hefinished the last morsel of food. "I'm clean spent, now, and want tostretch out for a while."
The boys helped him up and onto his bed, which he had no sooner touchedthan he was fast asleep.
It was noon before the old sailor awoke to find a hot dinner ready andthe boys patiently waiting. He was surprised to find that hisstiffness had nearly all disappeared, and, except for the cuts on handsand face, he was as well as ever again.
"My, this grub tastes good," he exclaimed, attacking the smoking fishand yams. "I didn't have a bite to eat all day yesterday. But Ireckon I had better start at the beginning of my yarn. I reckon youboys are some curious how I happened to turn up again in such shape.Wall, after I left here I paddled on, till I came to that fringe ofcypress right opposite where the smoke was curling up. When I got thatfar I got mighty careful, an' the way I coaxed that little craft inbetween them cypresses was so quiet that I didn't even wake up thewater moccasins asleep on the roots. When I came near the outer edgeof the cypress, I fastened the canoe to a root and crept forward onhands an' feet from one cypress tussock to another, sorter calculatin'that I'd make less noise that way than in the boat. At last, I gotwhere I could glimpse out between the trees and get a view of the fire.There was the whole twelve of them rascals workin' away as hard ashonest men. I watched them quite a while afore I caught on to whatthey was doing, an', when I found out, it didn't make me feel anyeasier. Lads, they was hollowing out the biggest dugout you ever seed.They had got a giant of a cypress chopped down, hewed it sharp at bothends and were burning it out inside with fire. While I was watchin',that varmint of an Injin, Charley, left the gang an' struck into thecypress an' passed by so close to where I was hid that I was sartinsure he'd see me, but he didn't. I lay still there for hours, afeardto move for fear I'd meet him comin' back. It was most sundown when hereturned, and I stayed on quite a bit after that listenin' to theconversation. As I guessed, he had been out scouting an' had found outthat we were on the island an' that his tribe was too far away tointerfere with any plans he had in his head. Cute as he was, though,he hadn't learned that the old chief was dead and the young one gonefor help. When I had learned all I could, I crawled back to the canoeand struck out for the island. It was being cramped up so long in oneposition in the cypress and in the canoe, that made me so stiff andsore."
"They surely can't be so reckless as to think of entering this swamp!"exclaimed Charley.
"'Tain't so very reckless, the way they look at it," observed thecaptain. "You see they think that the Indians are all far off an'ain't likely to come back for some weeks. When the redskins started ontheir hunt they left plenty of signs behind to tell where they hadgone, and them signs are plainer than print to Injin Charley. Now,them fellows figures they can drop down on this island, kill off allhands but the chief, an' torture him 'till he gives up the plumes he'scounted on havin', an' be off, an' safe out of reach afore theSeminoles return from their hunt. No, it ain't such a foolish sort ofundertaking after all."
"How long will it take them to finish the canoe?" Walter inquired.
"I calculate it will take at least three days more," said the captain,reflectively. "You see, the cypress is green an' burns pretty slowly."
"Three days," mused Charley, "and it will be at least a week beforehelp can come. We have got to count on meeting this danger byourselves."
"I don't see nothin' to do but push on into the swamp," said thecaptain disconsolately. "They outnumber us three to one. An' thisisland ain't got no shelter for us to find cover behind."
"Let's not worry about it now," urged Walter cheerfully. "The captainsays it will be three days at least before the canoe is finished so wehave plenty of time. If we decide to leave the island, we can easilykeep ahead of a clumsy dugout in our light canoes."
"I am of Walter's opinion," agreed Charley. "Something may turn up inthe next two days, and, anyway, there are some things I want toinvestigate before I vote to leave this neighborhood. I can promiseyou one thing, captain, those fellows will never handle the plumes thatbelonged to the chief."
The captain listened in admiring astonishment as Charley recounted hissolution of the chief's legacy. "We have been wild to dig for thetreasure," Charley concluded, "but we would not touch a spadeful ofearth until you could be with us to share in the excitement."
"Then you needn't wait another minute," cried the old sailor, who wasnearly as excited as the boys. "Get your spade an' we'll start rightin."
"We haven't got one," confessed Charley, suddenly crestfallen. "What afool I was not to think of that."
"Golly, I reckon dis nigger goin' to fix up somethin' to dig withmighty quick," cried Chris, whose eyes were sparkling with anticipation.
Running down to the canoe, the little darkey was back in a moment withone of the paddles. "Reckon dis will do," he said, "got to be mightycareful not to break it, though."
Armed with the implement, which Chris' thoughtfulness had provided,they lost no time in making their way to the lone palm.
The next perplexing question was on which side of the tree to dig.
"It's as likely to be on one side as the other," Charley declared. "Wemight as well start in at random and dig a circle around the tree untilwe come to it."
The others had no better plan to suggest, and Walter, seizing thepaddle, began to throw the dirt away. Luckily the soil was not packedhard, for even, loose as it was, progress was very slow with the rudeimplement he was wielding. At the end of an hour, he was content tosurrender the paddle to the captain, who, when tired, turned it over toChris.
It was slow work and the sun was getting low in the west when thecircle around the palm was at last completed, and the diggers stoodlooking at each other with disappointment written on their faces.
"We must go deeper," Charley declared, "I am certain that this is theright spot, and the chief would have had no interest in deceiving ormisleading us."
"We have gone down two feet already," said Walter, in a discouragedvoice, as he started wielding the paddle again. "I guess there issomething wrong with our calculation, Charley." He stopped suddenlyand looked up with a comical look of surprise and anticipation.
"I struck something," he announced breathlessly, "something kind ofsoft and yielding."
"Go on," Charley shouted in his excitement, and Walter bent to his taskagain.
The removal of a few more shovelfuls of earth exposed to view a large,dark, hairy object. Stooping, Walter with difficulty lifted it out ofthe hole.
All clustered close around it in their eagerness.
What had looked at first glance like a large, dead animal, proved to bea deer-hide stretched on framework, the hairy side out. A few slashesof Cha
rley's hunting-knife laid open this rude leather box and revealedto their eager gaze a smaller similar box inside. Charley lifted itout and cut away the top.
By the now dim light, they could only see the tapering shapes ofhundreds of long plumes carefully packed inside.
"There must be all of fifty pounds of them," said Walter, in anawe-struck voice, "why, they'll make us rich men."
"Give me a hand to carry them up to the wigwam," said Charley. "Runahead, Chris, and stir up the fire so we can see what we have got."
The excited captain swung the box upon his shoulder and strode forwardhard upon Chris' heels. He laid his burden down close to the fire andall crowded around.
One look and a loud murmur of disappointment broke from every lip.
What the dim twilight had hid, the firelight revealed in all itsdisheartening truth. What had been once a beautiful heap of valuableplumes, now lay an ugly mass of mildew and mould.
For a moment no one spoke, so keen was their disappointment. At last,Charley summoned up a feeble smile.
"Well, we are no worse off than we were before," he remarked with avoice that he endeavored to render cheerful.
"That's the way to take a disappointment, lad," said the captain,heartily. "A pound of meat is worth more to us now than a hundredpounds of plumes, anyway. Now, Chris, quit your grieving an' see ifyou can't rustle up some supper. I reckon we'll all feel better aftera warm bite."
"What shall I do with them, Charley?" asked Walter, who had remainedkneeling by the ruined treasure.
"Throw them away, they are valueless," exclaimed his chum somewhattestily, for his disappointment was almost more than he could bearcheerfully.
Walter lifted the leather box and disappeared in the darkness towardthe water. He did not throw it into the stream, however, but after amoment's hesitation on the bank, descended to his canoe and, shovinghis burden far up under the stern deck, retraced his steps to the fire.
In spite of their attempts at cheerfulness, the gloom of theirdisappointment hung heavy upon them, and it was rather a silent groupthat gathered in the wigwam after supper. Chris and the captain soonsought their beds and ere long their loud, regular breathing told thatthey had found solace for the disappointment of the day. The two boysfelt too excited to sleep and sat long talking over their stillperilous situation.
Suddenly, as on the other two nights, began the now familiar tolling ofthe mysterious bell.
The captain stirred uneasily in his sleep and Chris opened his eyesdrowsily but soon fell off to sleep again.
"Come outside, Walt, where we can talk without the chance of beingoverheard," Charley whispered.
The two lads stole softly out of the wigwam and down to the water'sedge where they sat down on the grassy bank.
"Now listen closely," Charley commanded.
Boy Chums in the Forest; Or, Hunting for Plume Birds in the Florida Everglades Page 22
