CHAPTER VIII THE SEARCH IS BEGUN
"According to this thing," said Terry, with a grin, "if we find thattreasure the dragon will eat us!"
It was on the following day and the entire group was bent over themanuscript which had been written by the long dead priest. The book layspread out on the library table before them, yellow and fragile, withcorners which threatened to fall away to dust at their touch. Rottedcord held it together and had broken in so many places that the ancientbook held together by a miracle.
They had read together the thrilling story of the flight from theEnglish barks, of the wreck in the lonely creek, and the description ofthe treasure up to the point where the missing pages spoiled theworthwhileness of the manuscript.
"That galleon must have been pretty big," Jim had said. "How big is anEnglish bark?"
"A bark is a three-masted, square-rigged vessel. The mizzenmast isfore-and-aft rigged, if I remember my history correctly," the professorreplied. "There are still barks left in service, and you can see thatthey were of a fair size from the fact that they had three masts."
The statement regarding the dragon had drawn Terry's attention. It was asolemn statement to the effect that if anyone who was not a subject ofHis Sovereign Majesty the King of Spain attempted to lay hands on thetreasure the guardian dragon would utterly destroy them.
"I wouldn't pay much attention to that," smiled the professor. "In thefirst place, the Spaniards stole it from the Indians, and it never didbelong to His Sovereign Majesty. We won't worry about the dragon untilwe have found the treasure."
They had planned to start out on the following day in an effort to findthe river up which the galleon had sailed. The professor declined toaccompany them.
"You boys go ahead and do the hunting," he said. "I'm a little too oldto be riding around the country looking for gold. But when you find itI'll help you dig it out."
"Well, if we don't find it, we'll have a good camping trip, anyway,"said Ned, who knew that his father did not place much stock in his ideasregarding the treasure.
It had been agreed that no long trip was to be arranged just yet. Nedplanned to explore the coast for several miles to the south at present,and if that failed to show any signs of a river or the wreck to makepreparations for a trip of several days. They were to be gone overnightthis time and that was all.
So on the following day they were ready to go. Each boy had a packet ofprovisions and his blanket strapped on the back of his saddle and alight automatic rifle in his hands. The boys had been taught to shootwith a fair degree of accuracy at Woodcrest School and so felt no fearof appearing backward in that respect in Ned Scott's eyes. They allshook hands with the professor, who wished them luck, and then they rodeaway to the southward in the first step of their hunt for the Spanishtreasure.
The day was warm and clear, and before they had been many hours on theopen plain they felt the heat keenly. The sun beat down directly on theflat, dry soil, and dancing waves of heat soon showed above the ground,as far as the eye could see. Ned would have turned to the distantmountains except that their search lay along the sea coast and theywould gain nothing by seeking the coolness of the higher lands.
"What mountains are those?" Don asked, pointing to the sweeping ranges.
"That central range which you see is the Sierra Gigantea," explainedNed. "In some places it is three and four thousand feet above sea level.The high ranges are north and south, and on this southwestern side therocks are granitic. There is plenty of sandstone on the other slope, andthe range is full of volcanic dykes."
"Looks mighty cool up there," said Terry, mopping his forehead.
"It is. We have all kinds of weather in this country, from burningtropical heat and its characteristic vegetation to the icy cold of thepeaks."
In the afternoon they halted under a friendly group of trees and ate alight lunch, stretching out to talk afterward for a brief time. Theafternoon was even hotter than the morning, and while they did not feellike sleeping they did enjoy the rest under the trees. They resumedtheir journey after three o'clock, keeping the calm blue waters of thePacific in sight all the while.
Several creeks were found, but none of them were wide enough to haveever allowed the passage of a galleon, although they were forced to bearin mind the fact that the passage of centuries might have closed upsmall rivers or narrowed creeks. Sandstorms rapidly changed thetopography of countries, they knew. They followed two large streams forseveral miles inland and then cut across country again to the sea.
When they stopped for their supper Ned said: "The fact is, we may belooking the wrong way. Perhaps we should have gone north instead ofsouth. The directions in the manuscript were vague, much as though thepriest himself did not know just where he was at the time. After all,this whole hunt is a matter of faith, and if we don't ever find anythingwe'll just put it all down as a good time and a summer vacation."
"Of course," rejoined Don, heartily. "But I feel as you do, that thetreasure was never found again. But aren't you neglecting one very goodclue?"
"What is that?" asked Ned, quickly.
"You recall that peculiar piece of wreckage that was picked up by thesteam trawler? Well, the funny thing was that no other piece of thegalleon to which it was a part could be found anywhere nearby. Don't youfeel that it was washed out of a nearby creek and settled in the mud inthe place where the fishing boat found it?"
"There was no creek anywhere near it," Ned answered.
"Perhaps not, but it could have come from quite some distance. Are wenear the place where the piece of wreckage was found?"
"It was found about fifty miles further up the coast," Ned said.
"It is my opinion that somewhere near there the galleon ran up a river.Can we go there tomorrow?"
"Well," said Ned, slowly. "I think if we visit that spot we had betterplan to make a much longer stay of it. We ought to spend several days inthe vicinity, perhaps a week. Suppose we spend the night here, go homein the morning and outfit for an intensive hunt."
"That would be a good idea," Jim thought.
"I think we should," argued Don. "You plan to run over every inch of thecoast north and south, don't you? Then I think we might as well outfitourselves for a hard and active campaign."
The sun was now going down, turning the hills and distant mountains intothings of rare beauty as the multitude of lights danced and gleamedalong the crests of the mighty range. The boys cut enough wood to lastthem through the night, and sat around a glowing little fire, tellingNed of past adventures until they all were sleepy enough to go to bed.
"By golly," said Terry, as he rolled himself up in his blanket. "In thedaytime you roast around here and at night you need a blanket. Veryunreliable climate, I must say. Jim, will you kindly dust the snow offme when you arise in the morning!"
They were up early in the morning and ate a hearty breakfast, enjoyingthe glory of another perfect day. Ned calculated that they would strikethe ranch again about noontime, and soon they were in the saddle oncemore, striking north along the sea coast. They had gone along the hardsand at a brisk trot for some ten miles when Jim stopped and pointed toa group of buildings back against a sandy cliff.
"What is that place?" he asked.
"That is a group of tannery buildings," explained Ned as they jogged ontoward it. "Years ago, in the days of the sailing ships, when Californiaand Lower California were first opened up, hides were collected inlandand dragged to that cliff, where they were thrown down below, still in araw state. Then, while the ships went on up the coast, a picked crew ofsailors remained here, curing the hides and storing them until the shipreturned and picked them up."
"I remember reading about it in that fine old book, 'Two Years Beforethe Mast,'" said Don. "I'm glad of the chance to see one of thetanneries."
When they arrived at the mouldering tannery they dismounted and wentinside, examining with interest this last relic of an ancient business.The buildings were
made of rough logs, hauled for many miles to thecoast, and some scraps of ancient hides still clung to the storageracks. The vats were still there, stained with many colors, and a heavysmell was still noticeable indoors. Outside they found the framework ofthe stretching racks.
"That certainly is interesting," commented Jim. "You must tell yourfather, Ned. Perhaps he'll want to come and look at the place."
"We'll tell him," the young engineer nodded, as they resumed theirjourney.
Ned's calculations were correct, for it was just noontime when theyarrived at his ranch. They rode down the incline toward the house, whichlooked deserted. Ned whistled but there was no response.
"Maybe dad is still in bed," he laughed, as he swung from his horse.
But when they went into the house the professor was not to be found. Norwas the cook around. Ned hurried to the barns and looked for Yappi, butin vain. As he hurried back to the house Don called to him.
"It's all right, Ned," Don said. "There is a note from him on the table.He has gone out looking for plant specimens."
Ned hastened into the room, relief on his brown face, and took up thenote. It was a simple message, worded as Don had explained, but as Nedread it his brow darkened.
"Look here," he said, crisply. "Do you know what dad's first name is?"
"I don't," answered Don, and Jim shook his head. Don pointed to thenote. "I see he signed it 'Duress Scott.' I never heard of that namebefore."
"It isn't a name," was the startling answer. "Dad signed it that way tolet us know that he signed it under duress, under compulsion! The cookand the overseer are both gone, evidently carried off by the same gangwho captured dad!"
"I'll bet everything I've got that it is Sackett again!" groaned Jim."What are we to do?"
"Just as soon as we can tie up a little grub and fill up with plenty ofammunition we'll start to run those fellows down," said Ned, grimly. "Ithink it is high time that somebody put an end to Mr. Sackett andCompany, and we're going to do it!"
"That's the talk!" cried Terry. "War to the knife! Where is my gun?"