Kitabı oku: «Boy Scouts in the Canal Zone: or, The Plot Against Uncle Sam», sayfa 7
CHAPTER XIII.
BOY SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE
Ned Nestor and Frank Shaw sat on the porch, that night, for a long time after the other boys were asleep. It had been decided that Frank should stand guard until midnight, but Ned was far too anxious to attempt to sleep. The absence of Jimmie and Peter worried him, and he sat waiting for some sign of their approach until very late.
“Frank,” he said, after a long silence, “there has been some talk in this case about your father having an interest in an emerald mine down here. Have you any idea where that mine is?”
“Not the slightest,” was the reply. “All I know about it is that it is a paying proposition, and that foreigners are in the game with him.”
“You do not even know whether the mine is situated in the Province of Panama?”
“I rather think it is.”
“I have heard talk,” Ned went on, “about mines on the line of the canal. It may be that this one is.”
“I think it is not far from Colon,” was the reply.
“Do you know who these foreigners are?”
“Japanese, I think.”
Ned was silent for a time, as if studying some proposition over in his mind. The boys in the cottage were stirring in their sleep, and a shrill-voiced bird in the jungle was calling to its mate.
“What are you trying to get at?” Frank asked.
“Has it ever occurred to you,” Ned replied, “that your father acted rather strangely on the night he was attacked in his house – the night your emerald necklace was stolen and the office building searched?”
“I have never thought of his attitude as remarkable,” replied Frank, “but, come to think the matter over from this distance, it does seem that he did act queerly when asked to reveal the nature of the information he had received. Lieutenant Gordon was angry with him.”
“Yes; the lieutenant believed that the papers would help him a lot if he could get hold of them. He still thinks so.”
“I understand that he still, in his mind, accuses father of disloyalty to his country,” said Frank.
“It seems to me,” Ned continued, “that one of two propositions is true. Either the papers would be useless in revealing the plot, or they deal with a situation which your father believes himself capable of handling alone.”
“I wonder what he will think when he gets the cable Lieutenant Gordon took up to Panama for me?” asked Frank.
“What did you say in the message?”
“I told him to keep an army of men in the basement of the newspaper building – to look out for bombs all over the structure.”
“I am glad you were able to warn him,” Ned said, “but I can’t help believing that he knew something of the peril he was in before we left New York. He was altogether too quiet that night when his house and his office were searched. He appeared to me to be planning a revenge both effective and secret.”
“And he never made a row about Pedro leaving him,” Frank said. “Why, he used to think Pedro was the whole works.”
“You say the fellow’s name is not Pedro at all, but Pedrarias?” asked Ned.
“Yes, that is what father says. I gave him the name of Pedro for short. He is an offshoot of the Spanish family that ruled the Isthmus after Balboa was shot. He claims pure Castilian blood, and all that. How he ever consented to become a servant is more than I can make out.”
“Has it never occurred to you,” asked Ned, “that he might have had an object, besides that of salary, in acting the part of a menial?”
“I have thought, since the night of the robbery, that he might have scented the necklace from afar off and come there to get it.”
“Your father found him on the Isthmus?”
“Yes; on his latest trip.”
“He consulted with him, in a way, concerning conditions here?”
“Yes, I think he did. Pedro is a very intelligent man, and proud as the Son of the Morning. He gave me his pedigree about the first day of his service in the house.”
“Perhaps your father sought his advice regarding the emerald business.”
“Yes, I think he did, now and then.”
“And Pedro was always ready to advise?”
“Oh, of course.”
“And your father grew to put some confidence in his talk?”
“I presume so, for they talked together a good deal. But I don’t see what you are getting at.”
“Do you know whether the two discussed the location and opening up of new mines?”
“Oh, yes. Father is always after new mines.”
“Where is he looking for them?”
“On the Isthmus and all through the republic of Colombia, I think.”
“And especially on the Isthmus?”
“I believe so.”
“And Pedro was active in looking up possible workings?”
“Yes; he used to show father maps and plans, at night, in the study, and they used to pore over them for hours at a time. But what does that amount to? Father took him to New York, I have no doubt, because he thought he would be useful in that way. The fellow knows every inch of the Isthmus and South America. Now, let me ask you a question. Do you think he stole my emerald necklace?”
“No, frankly, I do not,” replied Ned.
“But you have a notion that he let the others into the house?”
“Well, he might have done so.”
“He showed guilt when he ran away.”
“Of course. The fact is that if he did let the thieves into the house he did not do so especially to give them a chance to steal the necklace. At least that is the way I look at it. And, again, if he did admit them, he permitted them to do a bungling job.”
“You mean that they didn’t get what they wanted?”
“Exactly.”
“The papers concerning the plot?”
“Probably.”
“Well, how could they get them if they weren’t in the house?”
“He should have located them before he turned his confederates loose.”
“Then you really think Pedro was at the bottom of all that?”
“I have not said so,” was the reply. “There is no knowing whether he was or not.”
“I wish you wouldn’t be so secretive,” Frank said. “You have a straight out and out theory of that night’s work, and you won’t tell me what it is.”
“I never form theories,” was the reply.
“What would Pedro want of the papers?” Frank demanded. “Was he in the plot to blow up the dam, or was he just paid to get them?”
“I can tell you more about that in a few days. It is midnight, and I will relieve you. Go to bed.”
“I shall sleep sounder after I hear from father,” the boy said, passing into the cottage. “He may be having troubles of his own in New York,” he added, pausing at the door for a last word.
Ned sat for a long time on the screened porch with the splendor of the tropical night about him. The jungle came nearly to the walls of the house on all sides, save in front, where a little clearing had been made, and the noises, the creature and vine talk of the thickets, came to his ears like low music.
He listened constantly for the footsteps of the absent boys, but for a long time there was no break in the lilt of the forest. Then – it must have been two o’clock – he heard the quick beat of running feet, and directly Gastong, as Jack had fancifully named his new acquaintance, came spurting into the cleared space.
He stopped running when he reached the middle of the cutaway spot and, seeing Ned on the porch, beckoned to him.
Ned was off the porch in an instant, standing by the exhausted boy, who was now on the ground, supporting his swaying figure with one hand clutching the long grass.
“What is it,” asked Ned.
“Have you heard anything of the boys, the two who went away in the car?” asked the other. “Have they come back?”
“No,” replied Ned, filled with a sickening sense of helplessness, “they have not returned. Come inside the screen and speak low, so as not to wake the others.”
Gastong rose slowly to his feet and walked stumblingly to the porch. Once inside he dropped into a chair.
“I have run a long distance,” he said, by way of apology for his weakened condition. “I’m all in.”
“What is it about the boys?” Ned demanded, clutching the other by the arm.
“I stopped at the old house,” began Gastong, but Ned cut him short.
“About the boys,” he said, shaking him fiercely. “What about the boys?”
“They are either in the hands of your enemies or lost in the jungle.”
The words were spoken shrinkingly, as if the news conveyed might be of his own making.
“Where did you leave them?”
“I stopped at the old house,” began the other again, “and remained there only a few minutes. Then I went on toward the Culebra cut and came upon a friend who told me what had taken place.”
“Well! Well! Well!”
“The boys stopped at the cut, this side of the high point, and were there accosted by Gostel. Oh, you don’t know Gostel?”
“No, no,” was the impatient reply. “Who the dickens is Gostel?”
“He is a spy, a Jap who has been hanging about the Isthmus ever since the beginning of the work.”
Ned was thinking fast. This might mean something tangible. He had never heard of Gostel before.
“Well, what of Gostel?” he asked.
“He talked with the boys for a time and invited them to become his guests for the night. He referred them to Lieutenant Gordon. I got it from my friend who heard all their talk.”
“And they went away with him?”
Ned’s voice was harsh and high, and the boys in the cottage were heard moving about, as if awakened by his voice.
“No, they didn’t go away with him. They became suspicious of him, and when he went for his car they ran away into the jungle. A mad thing to do. A crazy thing for boys to do, for strangers. There is death in the jungle.”
“And why didn’t you go in after them?” asked Ned.
“What could I do alone?” asked the other, with a little shiver of apprehension.
“If you know the country – ”
Gastong interrupted with a gesture of impatience.
“Knowing the country couldn’t help me, not with Gostel and his men trailing into the jungle after the boys.”
There was a new fear creeping into Ned’s heart, and he was beginning to realize that there are perils more to be dreaded than the perils of the jungles.
“How many went in?” asked Ned, in a moment.
“Oh, half a dozen – I don’t know. Some one must go for help. Gostel will kill the boys. I should think that after the experiences of the afternoon – ”
“I am ready to go this minute,” Ned said.
“Oh, but you must have torches, and guns, and stand ready to fight against wild beasts as well as against men. There are jaguars in there, and boas – serpents ten yards in length. Natives have been killed by jaguars within the month.”
“Jaguars rarely come as far north as this,” Ned said, “and your serpents are not dangerous,” but the other insisted that there were both jaguars and boas in the jungle.
“This man Gostel may have gone to the rescue of the boys,” suggested Ned.
Gastong laughed weakly.
“You don’t know him,” he said. “I tell you he is a spy, a Japanese spy, watching every inch of the canal as it is excavated. He is in the pay of hostile interests, and will work you all a mischief. He knew before you arrived that you were coming.”
“How do you know that?” demanded Ned.
Gastong’s replies to the question were not satisfactory, and so Ned gave over questioning him. The sleeping boys were aroused and in ten minutes, just as a faint tint of day came into the east, they were away to the jungle – taking the way to Gatun at first, as the thicket they sought was far to the southeast of that city.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE KILL IN THE JUNGLE
It was growing darker every minute in the jungle, for there were now fleecy clouds in the sky, and the moon was not always in sight. Following Jimmie’s statement that they were lost, the boys stood stock still in a dense thicket and tried once more to get their bearings.
“We’ve got something figured out wrong,” Peter said.
“I don’t see how we have,” Jimmie insisted. “See here! That is the moon up there? What?”
“Looks like it.”
“Then it’s got lost,” Jimmie continued. “Ever stand behind the scenes in a theatre and hold a moon up on a stick?”
“Never did.”
“Well, I did, on the Bowery, once, and I got so interested in what was goin’ on in front that the moon set in the east. That’s what’s the matter with this moon. Some – ”
“There ain’t no supe holding up this moon on a stick.”
“Then they’ve moved the Panama canal,” insisted Jimmie. “If they hadn’t, we would have come to the cut a long time ago. That moon is supposed to be in the south. It ought to be.”
“Perhaps a little west of south.”
“Well, we crossed over the ditch down here, didn’t we, and struck into the jungle from the west side of the Culebra cut?”
“Of course we did.”
“Then if we keep the moon in the south, on our right, we’ll come back to the cut?”
“Sure. Anyway, we ought to.”
“Well, Old Top, we’ve been walkin’ for the last two hours with the moon on our right, and we haven’t got anywhere, have we? You don’t see no lights ahead of us, do you?”
There were no signs of the big cut. The great lights which blazed over the workings were not to be seen. The noises of the digging, the dynamiting, the pounding of the steam shovels, the nervous tooting of the dirt trains, might have been a thousand miles away.
“You’ve got to show me,” Peter said, after studying over the matter for a moment. “That moon isn’t on no stick on a Bowery stage. It is there in the south, where it belongs, and if we continue to keep it on our right we’ll come to the canal in time. We are farther away than we thought for.”
They struggled on through the jungle for another half hour, and then stopped while Jimmie looked reproachfully at the moon.
“I’d like to know what kind of a country this is, anyway,” he grumbled. “I never saw the moon get off on a tear before.”
“Except when you had it on the end of a stick,” said Peter, with a noise which was intended for a laugh, but which sounded more like a sigh of disgust.
“Well, we’ve got to stay here until morning,” Jimmie said, presently, “and I’m so hungry that I could eat a boa constrictor right now.”
“Quit!” cried Peter. “Don’t talk about snakes, or you’ll bring them down on us.”
“That was coarse, wasn’t it?” observed Jimmie. “Well, I’ll withdraw the remark.”
“If we stay here until morning,” Peter said, dubiously, “how do we know the sun won’t rise in the west?”
“All right,” Jimmie replied. “Guy me if you want to, but you’ll find this is no joke before we get through with it.”
“I know that now,” Peter replied. “I never was so tired in my life, and I’d give a ten-dollar note for a drink of cold water.”
The boys sat down on dry tree knuckles, buttressed roots rising three feet from the soil, and discussed the situation gravely. After a short time Peter got up with a start and began prancing about the little free space where they were.
“I’ve got it!” he cried. “We’re both chumps.”
“They usually act that way when they’re dyin’ of hunger an’ thirst,” Jimmie said, dolefully. “Keep quiet, an’ you’ll feel better in a short time.”
“But I know which way to go now,” Peter insisted.
“Oh, yes, I know. You’re goin’ to tell which is north by the moss on the trees. Or you’re goin’ to tell which way is northeast by the way the breeze lays the bushes. Or you’re goin’ to make a compass out of the dial of your watch. I’ve read all about it. But we’re stuck, just the same, not knowin’ the constellations.”
“Stuck – nothing,” cried Peter. “Look here. Which way does the Panama canal run?”
“North and south, across the Isthmus, of course.”
“There’s where you’re wrong! From Gatun to Panama the line of the cut is more east and west than north and south. Now revise your opinion of the moon. At this time of night she would be in the southwest.”
“That would make a little difference,” admitted Jimmie.
“Well, there you are. Take a line running southeast and a couple of chumps going almost southeast by keeping a southwest object to the right, where will they land? That’s mixed, but I guess you know what it means. Where would a couple of chumps find the southeast line?”
“About next week at two o’clock,” cried Jimmie. “Come on. We’ll start right now, an’ get out of the jungle before daylight.”
In a few moments after taking a fresh start the boys came to a place where a small body of water made a clearing in the forest. The little lake, or swamp, for it was little more than a well-filled marsh, was of course walled about by trees and climbing vines, but there was a lane to the southwest which permitted the light of the moon to fall upon the water.
The surface of the pool was well covered with floating plants, and now and then, as the boys looked through the undergrowth, a squirming thing ducked under and out of sight. There was something beautiful about the spot, and yet it was uncanny, too.
“I wish that was all right for a drink,” Jimmie observed.
“It is all right for a drink – if you’re tired of living,” Peter said. “Say,” he added, pointing, “what do you think of that for a creeper, over there? I’m sure I saw it climbing down off that tree.”
Jimmie took one look and started away, drawing Peter with him.
“It’s a python!” he exclaimed. “Come on.”
“There are no pythons in this country,” Peter replied, pulling back and looking out over the water again.
“It is a boa, then,” Jimmie cried. “Come away. It is getting out of the tree!”
The boys did not move for a moment. They seemed to be fascinated by what they saw. It was a serpent at least ten yards in length – a serpent showing many bright colors, a thick, elongated head, a body at least ten inches in diameter, and a blunt tail. As it moved down the column of the tree it launched its head out level in the air as if anticipating a feast of Boy Scout. The shining head, the small, vicious eyes, drew nearer to the faces of the watchers, and it seemed as if the serpent was about to leap across the pool.
Directly, however, the reptile threw its head and the upper part of its body over a limb on a tree nearer to the boys and drew its whole squirming body across.
“It is coming over here, all right,” whispered Peter. “Can you hit it? A bullet landed in that flat head might help some.”
“Of course I can hit it.”
Jimmie would not have admitted fright, but his voice was a trifle shaky. It is no light thing for a boy reared on the pavements of New York to face a serpent in the midst of a tropical forest at night.
“You shoot, then,” Peter said. “I’ll hold my fire until we see what happens.”
Jimmie drew his revolver and waited for a moment, as the head of the snake was now in the shadow of the tree. When it came out again, still creeping nearer to the boys, swaying, reaching out for another tree which would have brought it within striking distance, the boy took careful aim and fired.
There was a puff of smoke, the smell of burning powder, a great switching in the branches of the tree. Peter seized Jimmie by the arm and drew him back.
“If you didn’t hit him he’ll jump,” the boy said.
When the smoke which had discolored the heavy air drifted away, they saw the serpent still hanging from the limb, pushing his head out this way and that and flashing a scarlet tongue at its enemies.
“You hit him, all right,” Peter said. “Try again.”
After the third shot the body of the serpent hung down from the tree with only a stir of life. It was evident that at least one of the bullets had found the brain.
“It will hang there until it decays,” Peter said. “That tail will never let go. Come on away. It makes me sick.”
“There’s always two where there’s one,” Jimmie said, “and we must move cautiously, for there would be no release from the coils of a snake like that.”
“I thought I heard something moving in there a moment ago,” Peter said, pointing away from the pool. “I’ll go in and see.”
“Don’t you stir,” advised Jimmie. “There’s some one in there. I heard voices. We have been followed all this long way, and the shooting must have located us.”
This was a very natural conclusion, and the boys crept behind the bole of a tree and waited for what seemed to them a long time. Then footsteps were heard, soft, stealthy steps, like those of a man walking in padded stockings. The great leaves of a huge plant with red blossoms moved, and a pair of fierce eyes looked out.
“That’s a panther,” whispered Jimmie.
“A South American jaguar,” Peter corrected. “They eat men when they get desperately hungry.”
The great cat moved out from behind the plant and stood in the shaft of moonlight. It was a graceful beast, an alert, handsome creature of the woods, but did not look in that way to the boys just then.
In size it was nearly the equal of the full grown tiger. The head was large, the body thick yet supple, the limbs robust. In color it was of a rich yellow, with black rings, in which stood black dots, marking the sides.
The beast is known as the South American tiger, and is by far the most powerful and dangerous of tropic beasts of prey. It is swift enough to capture horses on the open pampas and strong enough to drag them away after the kill. In some of the countries south of the Isthmus the jaguar is a menace to the inhabitants, and settlements have been deserted because of them. It is rarely that one is found as far north as the Isthmus.
While the boys watched the cat slipped out one soft paw after the other and looked about, as if awakened from sleep. Then it moved toward the tree behind which the boys were partly concealed.
“Now for it,” whispered Peter. “If we miss it is all off with one of us.”
“He may not come here,” Jimmie said, hopefully. “He was probably brought here by the smell of blood. Say! Don’t you hear something back of us? This cat’s mate may be there.”
And the cat’s mate was there. Not looking in their direction, but sitting up like a house cat, watching the swaying body of the serpent. Her nose was pushed out a trifle, as if scenting supper in the dangling horror.
“The mate is here, all right,” Peter said, in a whisper. “We’re between the two of them. What is the first one doing?”
“Coming on,” whispered Jimmie, “and I’ve got only three shots in my gun.”
“That’s all you will have time to use if you miss the first one,” Peter said.
“That’s right,” Jimmie returned.
“And we’ll have to shoot together,” Peter went on.
“Is your hand steady?” asked Jimmie.
“As a rock,” was the reply. “Good-bye to little old New York if it wasn’t. Funny notion that a jaguar should be trying to eat a Wolf and a Black Bear.”
“And a baby Wolf, too,” added Jimmie. “My beast is coming on, bound to investigate this tree. When he gets so close that he can spring I’ll give the word, and we’ll shoot together.”
The cat approached slowly. At first it did not seem to catch the scent of prey in the neighborhood of the tree. It came on with cautious steps, crouching low, as if ready to leap.
Then the female caught sight and scent of the boys and uttered a low cry of warning which the male appeared to understand, for in a second its ears were laid down on its neck and the belly touched the ground.
“When you shoot keep the lead going,” advised Jimmy. “Now!”
Again, in that splendid tropical scene, there was a puff of smoke, one, two, three, four. Again the odor of burned powder attacked the nostrils and clouded the heavy air. Again there was a great floundering in the thicket.
The boys stood waiting for the snarling impact, but none came.
