The Boy Chums in the Florida Jungle

  CHAPTER XIII.

  LOOKING AHEAD.

  AS soon as our little party got back to camp, Charley called togetherthe Spaniards not yet assigned to duty, and had the Captain select thethree men he wanted for graders. Although both Walter and Charley couldspeak and understand a little Spanish, the old sailor could not speak aword of it, and he was careful to pick out three men who understood afew words of English. Out of the remainder Charley selected two to goahead of the machine, to clear its path of trees and to dynamite thelarger stumps. Two men were assigned as bridge builders, for at everythousand feet a gap must be left in the road for the back water to passthrough during the rainy season. A big, strapping fellow, over six feettall, was named as assistant for the teamster, and the remaining twoSpaniards were named as night guards. All but the night guards were togo to work next morning. To each one Charley explained that they mustnot permit any strangers to come near either camp or machine. If theysaw any strangers, except Indians, they were to report it to him atonce, or, if he was not in camp, they must report it to Walter.

  "That ought to protect us pretty well," he remarked to his chums, afterthe Spaniards had dispersed, chattering over the jobs that had beenassigned to them. "In the day time, the bridge builders will guard ourrear, and the right-of-way men will be the same as scouts in front,while you will be watching all around generally. There will always be acrew on the machine, and the teamster and his helpers will be of someuse as scouts in their work. That ought to prevent any chance of ourbeing taken by surprise."

  "You talk as though you were preparing for war," Walter remarked.

  "It does sound that way," his chum admitted. "I've got a hunch thatwe are going to see trouble as soon as those convicts get word totheir boss that the machine is running again. Judging from what hasbeen attempted already, our mysterious enemies will stop at nothing toaccomplish their purpose."

  "It's like fighting in the dark," Walter commented. "If we only knewjust what we are up against, we would know better what to expect. Thismystery business is something I don't fancy."

  "It's up to us to solve it," said his chum; "and I'm going to have atry at the job to-morrow. It's comforting, anyway, to hear that machineworking so steadily. That Bratton is sure doing some digging. Hear howregular that bucket is dumped. I wonder what those two long and twoshort whistles mean."

  "That's the signal to move track and back up," said Walter, proud ofhis newly acquired knowledge. "One short whistle means go ahead, threelong ones are for the teamster; four long ones are the distress signal,and five long ones is the signal for everyone to come to the machine."

  "The men must all be told what that last signal means," said Charleythoughtfully. "It may come handy some time."

  As night drew near, the resting crews emerged, yawning, from theirtents, and began to prepare for their night's work. Lanterns werefilled and cleaned and working clothes donned. Chris, with hisassistant's help, filled up a large basket with food, which, atsundown, was sent out to the workers on the machine.

  Supper was eaten, and all the Americans gathered around the campfireand told stories and jokes in its genial glow. The Spaniards builtanother fire, in front of their own tents, and sang Spanish songs tothe accompaniment of a couple of mandolins, while Chris and Sam, hisnew assistant, lounging in the cook tent, talked lovingly about theirown country, the poverty-stricken Bahama Islands.

  "This is a mighty different camp from what it was four days ago,"remarked McCarty. "There was no music or laughing going on then. Allyou could hear was grumbling and cursing. Believe me, I like this neworder better."

  When 8 o'clock came, Kitchner called his crew and left for the machine,from which soon came Bratton with his tired crew. "Digging's good," hesaid, in answer to McCarty's questions. "She's hitting a little rock,but it's soft and digs easy. I struck one dead head, but got it outwithout much trouble."

  "What's a dead head?" Walter asked.

  "Submerged stumps or trees," McCarty explained. "We often come uponthem in our digging. They are generally big, hard as iron, and mean toget out. One does not see them until the bucket hits them, and then themachine is too close to use dynamite."

  "Queer," the other commented.

  "Yes," McCarty agreed. "There are forests buried below us, I suppose.The process of building up and tearing down goes on all the time. Inthe centuries to come, likely, these trees around us will be buried inturn, and another forest rise above them."

  "The Lord moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform," quoted theCaptain reverently.

  While this conversation was going on, Charley had slipped away fromthe little circle unnoticed, and stepped softly out into the darkness.He had not gone far before he was halted by an abrupt challenge and aleveled rifle.

  "It's the boss," he said, in answer to the challenge. "Where's Gomez?"

  "Gomez is on the other side of the camp," answered the sentinel inSpanish. "Each of us make a half circle of camp, meet, and turn backagain. No one can go or come unnoticed."

  "_Esto bueno. Bueno nosche, hombre._" (It is good. Good night, man.)

  "_Bueno nosche, senor_," replied the Spaniard politely, and Charleystrolled back to the fire, satisfied that the night guards were doingtheir duty.

  "Jim," he said, to the teamster, "I want to use one of the mulesto-morrow. You've got enough wood hauled to last a couple of days. Youcan keep right on chopping while I'm gone. Take Juan out with you. Heis to be your regular helper. Now, which mule had I better take?"

  "Going to ride?" inquired the teamster.

  "Yes."

  "Waal," he said thoughtfully, "Violet will throw you the furthest, butPansy might kick you while you're down."

  "I'll take Violet," decided the lad, with a grin. "I object to beingkicked when I'm down."

  "I'm going to take a ride ahead to-morrow," he told his chum, when therest had retired. "I am in hopes that I may hit on some clew to thismystery. At any rate I will look over the route we have to take, andsee what we have got to encounter. I ought to have done that before webought Murphy out. Well, here goes for bed. I am going to get an earlystart in the morning."

  His intentions were sincere, but he slept so soundly that he did notawaken until the general call for breakfast. While he was eating Chrisput up a lunch for him, and, when he was through, Jim, the teamster,accompanied him out to the corral. "I'll put the bridle on Violet foryou," he offered. "She sorter objects to strangers fooling around hermouth."

  "All right," Charley agreed, but it was with some little secret dismaythat he viewed the towering, powerful mule, as Jim bridled it, and,throwing a sack over its back, led it out of the corral.

  It was too late to back out without chaffing, for the whole camp hadpaused on its way to work, to watch the proceedings.

  "Lead it out on the grade and give me a hand up," he ordered, and Jimmeekly obeyed. Charley placed his foot in the teamster's hand andswung himself lightly astride of the mule, while the teamster jumpedhurriedly back.

  "Get up," Charley said, as he gathered up the reins. Down went themule's head, and up and down went its hind part, in a series ofjolting, jarring bucks.

  "Give it the whip," howled Walter in delight.

  But Charley was too busy to heed advice. He grasped desperately at themule's mane to save himself, but it was too short for a hand-hold, andover the mule's head he went, to land ten feet away in the soft sandwith a thud that made his teeth ache.

  Slowly he picked himself up, and, rubbing the sand out of his eyes,looked back. The mule was nibbling placidly at a bit of grass, andbehind it the whole camp was howling with laughter.

  "I really think," remarked the teamster critically, "that you could dobetter with a saddle on."

  "Saddle," exclaimed Charley wrathfully, "have you got a saddle?"

  "Got a good one over in my tent. I 'lowed you preferred to ride bareback. Some do, you know."

  Charley glared at him with suspicion, but the Missourian's pale-blueeyes met his with a look of entire innocenc
e.

  "I guess I could do better with a saddle," agreed the lad dryly. "Goand get it, if you please."

  Even with the saddle on, it was all he could do to retain his seat asthe mule bucked up and down. But the teamster at last gave it a whackwith a stick over the hind quarters and started it off on a run. Forone fleeting second Charley glanced back at the grinning faces behind,then he settled down in the saddle and strove to master the viciousbrute.