Young Hunters in Porto Rico/Chapter 16

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CHAPTER XVI.


THE EXPOSURE OF THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR.


Leander had seen a man lying on the road on his back. Evidently the fellow was unconscious.

Over the form bent another man, and it was none other than Bumbum, the Carib who had taxed Leander and Dick ten dollars for pulling them from the hole.

As Leander uttered his shout, Bumbum raised his head, and then shook his fist at the youth.

But Leander was undaunted, and ran forward to detain the Carib until the others might arrive on the spot.

But Bumbum was not to be caught thus easily, and when Leander grabbed him by the arm, he struck fiercely at the boy and then tore himself loose.

"Where is he?" came from Bob.

"There he goes—the fellow who took the ten dollars from Dick and me."

"And who is this man?"

"I don't know, but I think the Carib knocked him down."

At once a rush was made to the spot where Bumbum had disappeared, and the wood and brush was searched thoroughly for a distance of ten or fifteen rods.

In the meantime Robert Menden had come up, and was gazing in open-mouthed wonder at the man lying in the road.

"Joseph Farvel!" he gasped. "What a meeting!"

"Is this Joseph Farvel, your enemy?" ejaculated Bob.

"The very same, lad. I wonder if he is dead?"

"I don't think so. But he got a bad crack on the head, that's certain."

Joseph Farvel lay in a slight hollow on the road. He had been hit over the left eye by some blunt instrument, probably a club, and the blood was pouring copiously from the wound.

Forgetting that this sour-faced man was his worst enemy, Robert Menden whipped out his handkerchief, soaked it in a nearby pool of water, and bound it about Farvel's head. Then he and old Jacob carried the sufferer to a shady spot under a tree.

In the meantime the others gathered around, and then Don uttered a cry.

"Bob's knife!"

He was right; there lay the knife beside the spot where Joseph Farvel had rested.

"It's mine, sure enough," said Bob, as he looked the blade over. He gazed at Robert Menden. "Do you think it was this Joseph Farvel who entered our room?"

"Great Cæsar! Perhaps."

"I believe it was that Bumbum," put in Dick. "I remember now that he cast longing glances at my pocketbook when I paid him that second five dollars. He is a regular brigand—or rather, a common sneak thief and footpad—and he probably tackled this Farvel for what he could get out of the fellow."

"I reckon as how Dick is right," was old Jacob's comment. He turned to the Englishman. "What do ye think is best to do concerning your enemy?"

Robert Menden thought for a moment.

"I don't want to leave him to die here," he said slowly. "That wouldn't be human. Cannot some of your party watch over him until he comes around, while I get out of sight?"

This was decided upon, and after some more conversation on the point, Robert Menden hurried on, accompanied by Dick, Don and Bob, leaving Leander, Danny, old Jacob and the Porto Rican behind.

It was fully half an hour ere Joseph Farvel showed any signs of returning to consciousness. In the meantime those around the man made him as comfortable as circumstances permitted.

At last he opened his eyes and sat up.

"Where—what's the matter?" he asked, in a cold, disagreeable voice.

"You were struck down on the road," answered Leander. "Don't you remember?"

"I—yes, I remember being hit from over the shoulder. Who did it?"

"A native—we caught sight of him running away," put in old Jacob. "I don't believe you are seriously hurt, though."

"I don't know." Joseph Farvel gave a deep groan. "What beastly luck I'm having, to be sure! Did the native rob me?"

"You'll have to find that out for yourself," answered Leander. "We don't know what is in your pockets."

With some difficulty Joseph Farvel went through first one pocket and then another, and then he gave another groan.

"My purse is gone—and it contained over eight pounds!"

"You certainly had hard luck," was old Jacob's comment. "Where are you bound?"

"To the next village. I was—ah—roaming about these mountains, but I'm rather sick of it."

"The mountains seem to be very nice," observed Leander, dryly. "We are taking a look around, too."

"Indeed! Found anything of special interest?"

"No."

"It's a beastly island, and I shan't stay here long." Joseph Farvel staggered to his feet. "My head swims like a top!"

"I would remain resting for awhile," said Leander. "You are not strong enough yet."

"My boy, you don't know me. I'm stronger than you think for." The sufferer turned to Carlos Remora. "How far to Caguas?"

"Less than two miles, señor."

"I can easily make that before noon, and I might as well travel before it gets too hot."

"You may be attacked again," said Leander.

"I'll be on my guard, and if I am, I'll shoot the rascal. I am much obliged for what you did for me."

"That's all right."

"Always ready to help a gentleman in distress," observed Danny, with a wink behind Farvel's back at Leander.

"That's all right. So you are bound for the mountains. Beware of the holes, or caves, as some of the natives call them!"

"We have this man with us as a guide," said Leander.

"Indeed! Well, take care, that's all I have to say, and good-bye to you," and so speaking, Joseph Farvel staggered off, but at a rapid gait.

"He certainly has grit," whispered Leander. "He's a bad man to have for an enemy. What wicked eyes!"

"Jest so," said old Jacob. "He wouldn't hesitate to heave a man overboard, an' I know it. Menden must keep his weather eye open."

The party resumed their march up the mountain side, and at the first turn joined the others behind a large, projecting rock.

The Englishman listened with interest to all that they had to tell.

"I'd give a good bit to know if he has discovered anything," he observed. "Being in such a hurry to get to Caguas makes me a little suspicious. Perhaps he has located the treasure, and now wants to make arrangements for getting it away."

"He can't have been here so very long," put in Don. "We came through as fast as we were able."

"I told you he would want to put his hands on that gold as soon as he could. But come, there is no use in wasting time here."

Up and up they went, along a twisting and turning trail, now broad, and then again so narrow, that Dick wondered how a horse might find his way without slipping. Yet the native assured him that horses sometimes came that way with heavy burdens on their backs.

"Da get use to it, señor," he added. "But him bad—sometimes fall an' go dead." And Dick believed him.

The first range passed, they began to descend into a valley. Here the oranges, bananas and other tropical fruit grew in profusion, and in the brush could be seen numerous wild coffee berries just turning a beautiful red. The boys tasted them, to find them very bitter; "not a bit like cooked coffee," as Don put it.

"It's the ripeness and roasting that brings out the flavor," said Robert Menden.

Presently they came to a mountain torrent, all of twenty feet wide and ten to twelve feet deep. There was no bridge, but a large palm tree lay from bank to bank, and over this they made their way, one following the other.

"What about horses here?" questioned Leander. "You don't mean to say they walk this sort of a tight-rope."

"No, horses go up de water and walk on rocks," answered Carlos Remora.

Danny was the last to, set foot on the tree, the others being some distance ahead. He was over the very center of the stream when a large bird, flying from some nearby bushes directly past his face, startled him. He uttered a yell, and turning around, the others were just in time to see him slip from the tree and disappear with a splash into the swirling stream below.