The Boy Chums in the Florida Jungle

  CHAPTER XIV.

  SCOUTING.

  FORTUNATELY for Charley the newly-leveled road was still so unpackedand soft that the mule quickly tired, with its feet at every stridesinking to the fetlocks, and, before it reached the end of the grade,the lad had it under control. At the end of the grade lay the heaps ofsoft sand and mud the machine had lately thrown out. He must cross theditch in order to get around the machine and do it before he reachedthe ant-like hills of dirt. He rose in his stirrups and surveyed theditch ahead. It was about eight feet wide and several feet in depth,and in many places the bottom was nothing more than liquid mud. Pickingout a place where the bottom showed white sand, the lad headed themule for the ditch, and, as it hesitated for a moment on the edge, hebrought his whip down smartly on its flank. With a snort of rage themule leaped forward, clearing the ditch by a full two feet. It was awonderful jump, and Charley settled back in the saddle with a sigh ofrelief. "You're sure some jumper, Violet," he said.

  Skirting the edge of the ditch until he had passed the machine thelad regained the old road and rode slowly along, examining closelythe route the machine would have to take. This was indicated by thesurveyors' stakes, pieces of lath stuck into the ground every hundredfeet. For the most part the stakes followed the line of the old road,departing from it only where the road turned and twisted, and Charleywas able to follow them easily. The surveyor had done his work well.Every hundred feet had its stake, and on each stake was marked in bluepencil the number of the stake and the number of feet the new roadshould be graded to make it level. A full sense of the magnitude ofthe task they had undertaken came upon the lad, as he followed up thenever-ending line of stakes. Here they led through a little hummock ofdense growth, where it would be a fearful job to clear away the timberand dynamite the stumps. Beyond the hummock they crossed stretches ofprairie or pine barrens, or skirted the treacherously soft edges of sawgrass ponds, only to enter another hummock beyond. Charley gave a sighof relief when the stakes joined the old road again. "There's sure somebad digging in those hummocks and around the edges of those ponds," hesaid to himself, "and how easy it will be for our enemies to tie up themachine for weeks, break us financially, and drive us off this job, ifthey just do one simple little thing that a child ought to think of. Iguess it is because the thing is so simple that they have not thoughtof it."

  The reason for the stakes following the old road so steadily soonbecame apparent, for a little farther on it entered the thickest junglethe lad had ever seen. On both sides rose gigantic trees, mattedtogether by great entwining creepers, and on each side of the road laystagnant pools of water, covered with nauseous-smelling green slime.Not a sound of life came from the jungle's gloomy depths. The onlyliving things seemed to be the huge, sluggish moccasins that slippednoiselessly from the road into the pools as the mule approached.Evidently the surveyor had decided that the old road was the onlyfeasible route through the jungle.

  Suddenly Charley ducked his head, as a whining, singing sound, passedover him. He had heard that whining message before, and knew it forwhat it was.

  "A rifle bullet," he ejaculated, bewildered, as he reined in the muleand looked around. But no powder smoke met his searching gaze, and noreport followed the bullet's whine.

  Again it came, that menacing, whining sound, and from a tree closebeside where he sat on the mule an inch-thick branch rattled to theground, cut clean from the tree by the bullet.

  Still Charley remained motionless, not knowing which way to go,backward or forward, but the next whining bullet decided the matter forhim. It plowed a bit of skin from the mule's flank, and the startledanimal, leaping forward, began to run. By the time the lad got it undercontrol they were half a mile from where the shooting had taken place.

  "Whew! That was almost uncanny," the lad muttered to himself. "Nosmoke, no report, nothing but the whizzing of the bullets. It wasnot any native of these parts doing that firing, that's a cinch. TheIndians and cowmen do not know that there are such things in existenceas smokeless powder and Maxim silencers."

  The weird jungle proved to be about two miles across, and Charley soon,with a feeling of relief, rode out into a pleasant, open country,dotted with small, clear-water lakes. He now began to come upon signsof life: cows grazing on the short, crisp grass; hogs rooting in thesoft, muddy places. He grinned, as, turning a curve in the road, hecame suddenly upon a group of Indian maidens, bathing in a little lake,and who, with shrill cries, bolted for the cover of a thicket when theyspied him. Charley, with a grin on his face, kept his head turned theother way as he rode past. Not long after passing them he began to comeupon patches of cultivated ground, and the thatched-roofed, open-walleddwellings of the Indians. At the first dwelling he dismounted andfastened the mule to a tree. The Indians from all the shelters crowdedaround him with eager greetings. He was delighted to find among thecrowd many whom he had met before in the Everglades. These wereapparently delighted to see him, and gravely made him acquainted withthe rest of the tribe, which was composed of about one hundred braves,besides women and children. They insisted upon his having dinner withthem. They fed and watched the mule, and altogether made him feelthat he was among friends. For his part Charley was astonished at theevidences of prosperity this tribe exhibited. Their ponies, dress, anddwellings were far superior to any other tribes that he had ever metup with. But what astonished him most was the patches of cultivatedground. Never before had he seen such a wonderful growth of corn, yams,melons, and pumpkins.

  After a dinner of stewed venison, yams, and melon, Charley began to askthe questions that had brought him out on his lonely ride. The Indiansanswered them readily. "Yes, they had seen white men--strangers. Therehad been several out as far as Indiantown. Sometimes they came two orthree together. Sometimes one would come alone. They would camp forone sleep, then return to town and be seen no more. One there was whocame often--a little man, with a beard like a spade. No, they didnot know what the strangers' business was so far out from town. Theycarried guns, but seemed to kill no game." Mr. Bower, the man who keptthe trading-post two miles farther out, might be able to tell him moreabout the strangers.

  So Charley mounted the mule again, and rode out to the trading-post.The road led direct to the little store hut, which was surrounded bya magnificent grove of oranges and grape fruit. Mr. Bowers, a fat,jovial-looking man, greeted him cordially, but could tell him nothingmore about the strangers than he had already learned from the Indians.One fact he did learn, however, none of the visitors ever went beyondthe trading-post. The lad then knew the clew for which he was lookingmust lie somewhere between the trading-post and the machine.

  "We are meeting with some opposition in our road-building," Charleyexplained frankly, "and I did not know but what it might come throughyou cattle owners objecting to having your grazing lands thrown open tonew settlers."

  "Lord, no!" exclaimed Mr. Bowers, in frank surprise. "We have beentrying to get that road out here for years. There's only half adozen of us scattered between here and the big lake, and it has beenhard work forcing the county commissioners to have the road built.Of course, we want the road. Our oranges rot on the trees now everyseason, because we are not able to haul them through the mud to therailroad. Our groves, with that road opened, would be worth more thanour cattle. What if it does bring in new settlers? They will help tomake our groves and lands still more valuable. If any one tries to holdup that road-building we will fix him if we can get our hands on him."

  It was well along in the afternoon when Charley bade the genial Mr.Bowers good-by and headed his mule back for camp. He alighted atthe Indian camp for a moment, to examine the land, which seemed sowonderfully fertile. On the surface it appeared sandy and like otherpine land, but a couple of feet below the surface he came upon a kindof soft, grayish rock. He dug out several pieces with his knife,dropped them in his game bag, and, remounting and waving a lastfarewell to the Seminoles, he proceeded on his homeward way.

  It was with a feeling of dread that he rode back through
the jungle,expecting every minute to feel the impact of a bullet. But he emergedsafely on the other side without any message from the hidden enemies.Darkness fell soon after he left the jungle, but he merely let slackthe reins and trusted to his animal's instinct to find the way home.Soon he spied the lights of the machine in the distance, and a halfhour later he dismounted at the camp, aching and sore in every muscleof his body, and discouraged over his fruitless trip.