The Boy Chums In The Forest Part 19

"I've puzzled over it some myself," said the captain slowly, "an' I can't make anythin' out of it. From what the chief let fall from time to time, though, I gathered he wanted to make you a valuable present, an' I've been kinder thinkin' that picture tells what an' where it is."

Charley folded the piece of doe-skin and put it carefully away in an inner pocket. "I will try to find out what it means when my head is clearer," he said. "Just now, all I can think of is something to eat."

"And you shall have something to eat right off," said the captain, heartily, "it's about time for supper anyway. Hustle up, Chris, an'

get them fish cleaned. I reckon it won't hurt the lad to have a bit of solid food, now, providin' it's well cooked."

The sun was just setting when the captain and Chris reappeared bearing gourds full of smoking fish, and sweet sugary yams, and ears of curious small kernelled Indian corn.

The boys made merry over the delicious meal, but a curious constraint seemed to rest upon the captain and Chris. Once Walter surprised them exchanging glances full of a strange, expectant uneasiness. The circ.u.mstance aroused his curiosity, but he refrained from asking any questions, deciding that the captain would explain the trouble in his own good time.

As the evening wore away, the change in the captain's manner became more and more marked. All his cheeriness of the day had departed, leaving him glum and silent. He took no part in the lively conversation going on between the boys, but sat apart answering their questions in monosyllables. His manner, Walter decided, was that of a man who faces some great impending evil.

With the coming of darkness the air was filled with the noises of the swamp; the croaking of mult.i.tudes of frogs, the hooting of owls, and the hoa.r.s.e bellowing of many alligators.

Suddenly the boys sat up erect and stared at each other in amazement.

"What is it?" Walter cried.

Clear and sweet above the noises of the night rang the tolling of a silver-toned bell.

"It's the bell of the spirits callin' us," said the captain gloomily, while Chris sat ashen-faced trying vainly to control his terror.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE TREASURE.

"Nonsense, there are no such things as spirits," cried Charley, hotly.

"That tolling is made by a big bell, and a remarkably sweet-toned one, too."

"It's over a hundred miles to the nearest settlement," said the captain gloomily, "do you reckon you could hear the biggest bell made that far?"

"No," the lad admitted, "but that bell is not over two miles away.

Some Indian has traded for a bell and tolls it for his own amus.e.m.e.nt."

The captain lowered his voice to a superst.i.tious whisper. "It's a mystery to the Indians," he declared, "and they avoid the sound like it were an evil spirit. Even the chief could not tell me what it was, although all his life he had heard its tolling. He wasn't so much afraid of it as are the other Indians an' he built this wigwam here so as to be within sound of it." The captain's voice dropped still lower as he added impressively, "It tolled all the night after he died."

"Have you tried to follow up the sound and discover where it comes from?" demanded Charley, sharply.

"Not me," declared the captain, solemnly, "I ain't got any call to interfere with the doings of the dead. I tell you, lad, this is a land of mystery, an' a man's got no call to fool with what he can't understand."

Charley checked the angry reply rising to his lips. He bethought himself that the captain had spent his life in a calling that often makes the strongest minded superst.i.tious, while Chris inherited a belief in ghosts and spirits from his race. Though he lapsed into silence, Charley resolved that as soon as he was able to get around, the mystery should be solved.

For about an hour the air rang with the sweet chiming notes, then they ceased as suddenly as they had begun and the boys dropped off to sleep to dream of this strange incident in this mysterious swamp.

Walter was astir early, apparently as well as he had ever been.

Hastily dressing he lifted up the bark flap which covered the doorway and stepped out of the wigwam.

The captain was busy cooking breakfast over a rude fireplace of stones, a few feet away, while Chris on the bank by the water was industriously fishing.

The island upon which they were camped was only a couple of acres in extent but rose high above the water. It was barren of timber, except for a large live oak and one lonely palm which Walter noted with an increasing interest. Some attempt had been made to cultivate the loamy soil, and flourishing little patches of yams, sugar-cane, gourds, and Indian corn testified to its fertility.

"Well, Captain, it doesn't look as if we ran much risk of starving to death," remarked Walter, approaching the old sailor.

"No, thar ain't much danger of that, I allow," said the captain with a heartiness from which all depression of the night before had fled.

"Over thar is the place you come in at, Walt," he continued, pointing to the distant fringe of cypress.

Walter looked long and earnestly in the direction indicated. "I can see a thin line of smoke above those tree-tops," he declared finally.

"Aye, I noticed it too," agreed the captain. "'Pears like them friends are going to hang at our heels until they get another chance at us. I wouldn't borrow any uneasiness if it weren't for that Injin bein' in the party. I warrant he's found out already that the Injins are all gone, an' is layin' his plans accordingly."

"Well, they can't get to us without boats," said Walter, hopefully.

"No, but they can make one if they are determined enough," observed the captain, gravely. "I sorter calculate to paddle up near enough to them to-day to learn what kind of mischief they are up to."

"I'll go with you," said Walter, eagerly.

"No, you ain't strong enough yet. Jes' keep quiet for a day or two, I reckon that will be a plenty to keep you busy. Wall, I guess this stew is done an' we might as well have breakfast."

The kettle with its contents was carried into the wigwam, and from a cake, made of pounded Indian corn, and the stew, our hunters made a hearty breakfast.

After the meal, a council of war was held. The captain outlined their situation in a few simple words. "We are fairly comfortable here at present, lads, but it's goin' to be a week or ten days before Young Tiger gets back with his people. We've got plenty of food to last a good while, but I reckon this swamp is about the most unhealthy place on earth an' we run a good big risk of being sick with fever before the Indians come. On the other hand, it's risky to try to get out of here any way but the one we came in. We'd be about sure to get lost in the swamp, an' there's no tellin' what might happen to us. We can't get out the way we come in as long as those fellows are standin' guard outside waitin' for us."

"I vote to stay where we are," said Walter, promptly. "We may be able to escape the fever if we take good care of ourselves."

Charley and Chris quickly agreed with Walter.

"I guess it's the wisest thing to do," admitted the captain, "although I will be mighty glad to get out of this creepy place. I tell you this ain't no place for white men, lads. But I've got to leave you now, boys. Make yourself as comfortable as you can, an' keep out of the sun during the heat of the day. I reckon I'll be back long before sundown."

Walter accompanied the captain down to the canoe and begged hard to go with him, but the old sailor was firm in his refusal and Walter watched him paddle out of sight with a dim foreboding of evil at his heart.

On his way back to the wigwam, Walter paused a moment on the island's highest elevation to take a more careful survey than he had yet done of the surrounding country. He discovered nothing new, however, save what was apparently a large island lying some two miles to the west of their own. It seemed to rise far above the surrounding swamp and was evidently very heavily timbered.

Pa.s.sing on into the wigwam, he was greeted with an exultant cry from Charley.

"I've solved it," he shouted.

"Solved what?" demanded Walter in amazement.

"This," cried his chum excitedly, extending the square of doe-skin with its red ink tracings. "It's really absurdly simple," he continued.

"According to the captain, the chief talked about leaving me riches of some sort. I took that circ.u.mstance for my key and tried to think what a race as poor as the chief and his people would consider as riches.

The picture of that bird answered the question. Plumes are their only form of wealth, hence plumes must be the treasure of which he spoke."

"Reasoned like a detective," approved Walter, scarcely less excited than his chum.

"The rest was simple. The picture of the tree was to show where it was hidden and the object at its base is intended as a shovel to tell that I would have to dig for the treasure, but," and his face fell, "how are we to find that identical tree?"

"There's only one palm on the island," Walter a.s.sured him.