Two days after their trip over the course of the Canal the three chums decided to spend a long day on an exploring expedition after their own heart. They resolved to go off early some fine morning on "their own hook" and see and do what pleased them best. Accordingly, they made all their plans, and, the night before the eventful day, laid in provisions for a "bang up" lunch for three.
They procured an old alarm clock and set it to go off at four o'clock in the morning. This done, they finished discussing every detail of the trip, and as soon as their excitement would let them, fell into a sound sleep.
It seemed to them that they had hardly laid their heads on the pillows when they were awakened by the strident whirring of the little sleep-killer, and sat up in bed yawning and rubbing their eyes.
"Good-night!" exclaimed Bert. "It isn't possible that it's really time to get up. It seems to me that I haven't been asleep more than ten minutes."
"Same here," yawned Dick. "I guess there must be something sleepy in this air. No wonder the natives are lazy, if they feel every morning the way I do now."
"Oh, what's the matter with you two lemons, anyway?" laughed Tom. "My private opinion, publicly expressed, is that you're both just plumb lazy. But there's nothing like that about me. Just see how lively I feel," and to prove his assertion he grasp ed a pillow in each hand and landed them with fatal aim on the respective heads of the other two.
"Gee," exclaimed Dick, as he and Bert rose in righteous wrath preliminary to smothering Tom under an avalanche of bedclothes, "it's a lucky thing you don't feel any better than you do. In that case you'd probably be landing us with a couple of pieces of furniture."
"I'd like to do that, anyway," came Tom's muffled voice from beneath the pile of pillows and blankets. "For Heaven's sake, let me up and quit stepping on my head."
Thus adjured, Bert and Dick released their victim, and after what looked like a miniature earthquake among the pile of things on the floor Tom emerged, very red in the face.
"That's a swell way to start the day, isn't it?" he protested in an injured tone. "Two minutes more of that and I'd have smothered, sure. If you want to murder me, why don't you do it in a less painful manner?"
"Hush, my son," said Dick. "Who started it? Never start anything you can't finish, my boy."
With this piece of good advice Dick started dressing, and the others followed suit. After this they made up the lunch, eating a sandwich now and then by way of breakfast. There was nothing fancy in the way in which the sandwiches were thrown together, and the mothers of the three boys would no doubt have been horrified could they have seen it. However, "everything went," as Bert expressed it, and in a very short time they had their packing done and were ready to start.
They slipped as silently as possible through the corridors, and in less time than it takes to tell were in the outer air. It was still very early, and the hot sun was not yet high enough to dissipate the heavy mist that hung close over the ground. They knew this would not last long, however, so started out on their expedition at a round gait.
They had resolved beforehand to strike into the wild country bordering the path of the big ditch, and see it "at first hand," as Dick phrased it. Each had a rifle with him, and they expected to bag some small game if opportunity should offer, with which to supplement their lunch.
The country immediately bordering the Canal at this point was rather barren and rocky, but at no great distance a thick tropical jungle sprang up, and it was into this that the boys resolved to go. Accordingly they picked their way over the rough flat, perhaps two miles in width, which lay between them and the line of green jungle.
The going was very rough, and it took them almost an hour to reach the trees. Everything has an end, however, and in due time they found themselves at the edge of the fringe of trees that stood out a little way from the main forest. These were soon passed, and the comrades entered the green gloom of the big tropic trees. Their trunks shot up thirty or forty feet before the branches sprang out, and were thinly encircled by clinging vines and plants.
The leaves in many places met overhead, and caused a perpetual twilight in the forest aisles. As the boys penetrated deeper and deeper toward the heart of the woods the underbrush and vines grew continually thicker, and in many places they found their progress stopped by some tangled growth and were forced to cut it away before they could proceed. It grew hotter and hotter, too, with a damp, clammy heat that at last became almost unbearable.
"Great Scott!" burst out Dick, at last, while they were cutting through a particularly tough growth of vines and creepers. "I think this is about the hardest work I ever did in my life. What you need to make a path in this blooming jungle is a carload of dynamite—not merely a few little toad-stickers like these we're using."
"Well, as we haven't the dynamite handy, I suppose we'll have to make the best of the 'toadstickers,'" laughed Bert, amused by his companion's rueful countenance. "You didn't expect to find a macadamized road running through this little strip of woodland, did you?"
"No, but I didn't expect to find vines made of cast iron, either," replied Dick.
"Never mind, old scout," said Bert, "this can't last long. We're certain to hit on a game trail sooner or later, and then we'll be in clover. And the harder we work now, the sooner we'll find it."
"Oh, well, here goes," responded Dick, and fell to with renewed vigor.
Before very long it turned out as Bert had predicted. After cutting through a particularly dense thicket, they had not gone far when they stumbled on a narrow but clearly defined trail that ran in a southeasterly direction.
"Eureka!" exclaimed Tom, as this welcome sight met their eyes, "it will be plain sailing from now on, and we ought to be able to get somewhere."
"We don't know where we're going, but we're on the way," sang Bert. "Forward, march, fellows. Christopher Columbus had nothing on us as discoverers."
"Righto," agreed his companions, and they set forth along the narrow path at a brisk pace.
There were traces of game in plenty, but they were unable to catch a glimpse of anything that might give them a chance to exercise their marksmanship. Of course, the trees were full of monkeys and parrots, but they had no wish to kill merely for the sake of killing, and were resolved to shoot nothing that they could not use as food.
No game made its appearance, and the boys were looking around for a site on which they could pitch camp, when they were suddenly startled by a distant shout.
"Help, help!" came the cry, evidently at some distance from them. In spite of this, the three adventurers had no difficulty in recognizing the note of terror in it, and after one look at each other started off at a dead run in the direction of the cries. Running, tripping, stumbling, picking themselves up and racing on again harder than ever, it was not long before the shouts for help were appreciably nearer, and Bert, with what breath was left him, shouted back. Tom and Dick followed suit, and it became evident the person in distress, whoever it might be, had heard them, for his shouts ceased.
Suddenly Bert, who was a little in advance of the others, pulled himself up abruptly, and glanced down at the ground. "Easy there, fellows," he cautioned, between gasps for breath. "It looks as though we'd struck the edge of a bog, and now we'd better make haste slowly."
"You're right," exclaimed Dick, after they had taken a few cautious steps forward. "It keeps getting softer and softer, and I think we'd better look around for some path. We'll be bogged in another hundred feet."
"Well, we might as well let whoever it is we're going after know we're still on the job," said Tom, and forthwith he gave vent to a whoop that sent a cloud of wild birds soaring up from the reeds by which they were now surrounded.
His shout was answered by another from the unknown, and Tom yelled, "Don't give up, we'll get to you as soon as we can. What's the matter, are you stuck in the swamp?"
"Yes," called the other, "and I'm getting deeper every minute. Follow the edge of the swamp a few hundred yards toward the west, and you'll find the path that I wandered from. But hurry up, or I'm a goner."
"All right," sang out Bert, and the three hurriedly skirted the bog in the direction which its unfortunate victim had indicated. Sure enough, in a few minutes they reached a spot where the reeds thinned out considerably, and they could see the stranger. He was almost up to his shoulders in the soft, sticky mud, but when he caught sight of his would-be rescuers, he waved a hand to them feebly.
"Step lively, boys," he implored, "I'm almost done for. I won't be able to last long. The further I sink the faster, and this muck will soon be over my head."
The three comrades held a hurried consultation as to the best means they could employ to effect the man's release.
"Let's buckle our belts together," suggested Bert, hastily divesting himself of his. "Maybe we can pull him out that way."
This was no sooner said than done, and in a twinkling the three stout belts were fastened together. Then, following the captive's direction, they ventured gingerly out on the narrow path, composed of quaking tufts of soft earth that led into and presumably across the swamp. Soon they were within ten feet or so of the unfortunate, who proved to be a well built man of middle age. They threw him the end of the improvised rope, which he grasped desperately. Then they bent their united efforts to pulling him out of the clinging mire. Pull as they might, however, they were hardly able to move him, as they could get no purchase on the soft ground, and only began to sink in themselves. It was with difficulty that, after giving over this attempt as hopeless, they managed to scramble back to solid ground.
"Don't give up, boys," pleaded the unhappy man. "You're not going to let me die here, are you?"
"Don't worry about our deserting you," said Bert. "We're going to get you out of this, but we've got to figure out how. Can you think of anything?"
"You might run back to where the underbrush starts and bring back a lot of it," suggested he. "I might be able to support myself that way while you went for help."
"That's a good idea," exclaimed Bert, and in accordance with the suggestion they raced back to the jungle and soon returned, each bearing a large bundle of underbrush. This they threw into the swamp in such a way that the man could rest his arms on it. Then they waited expectantly to see if this would "turn the trick."
At first it seemed that the plan would prove successful, but before long it became apparent that the man was still sinking, although more slowly than before. The brush only served to defer his fate.
"Hang it all!" exclaimed Bert, as he realized this fact, "there's nothing we can do here alone. What we need is planks, and ropes, and tools. The only thing I can see is for us to hustle back to camp and get help."
"The sooner the better, I guess," agreed Dick, soberly, and accordingly they explained their intentions to the man in the bog.
"How far have you got to go?" inquired the latter, and when they told him he groaned.
"You'll never get back in time," he said, "but I guess it's the only thing left to do. Only, one of you please stay here with me. If I've got to die, I'd rather not die alone."
"Oh, quit that talk about dying," exclaimed Bert, although in his heart he had little hope. But the three comrades were resolved to employ every means, however desperate, for the stranger's release.
They held a brief consultation.
"You and Tom had better go, Dick," said Bert. "I'll stay here and do all I can to keep this poor fellow alive, but it's a long trip and I'm afraid there's not much chance for him."
So Tom and Dick set off at a brisk trot, and Bert began to talk with the unfortunate man with the idea of getting his mind as much as possible off his predicament. It developed that he was an engineer connected with the Canal, who had gone for a day's hunting in the jungle. He had lost his way, and had been forced to make camp over night. Early the next morning he had set out, and when he had reached the swamp had attempted to cross it by way of a path that a native guide had pointed out to him as being a short cut, on a previous trip. He had taken two or three steps off the path before he realized it, and then, when he had attempted to return, had found himself held fast in the treacherous mire. All his efforts to escape had only resulted in his sinking deeper and deeper, and finally he had ceased struggling. Then he began to shout at intervals, in the faint hope of someone being within earshot, and, as we have seen, brought the three boys to his aid.
While the man had been talking, Bert's mind had been busy with a hundred plans for helping him, which, however, he was forced to abandon one after the other. It wrung his heart to see the poor wretch slowly sinking in the filthy mud, and to feel his own absolute inability to help him. By this time, the stranger was in the mire up to his chin, the underbrush which the boys had cut for him having gradually been pulled under.
Almost imperceptibly, but none the less surely, he sank, and Bert tore his hair and paced wildly up and down the bank, wrung by pity for the doomed man. At last the latter smiled weakly, and said, "Well, good-bye, my boy. You and your pals did your best, but I'm done for now. Hartley's my name, and tell the boys back at the camp that I died game, anyway. Tell them——"
But at this point Bert dashed madly away, pulling his sharp hunting knife from its sheath as he ran. He plunged into a thick clump of reeds on the edge of the swamp, and hastily cut an unusually long and tough one. He put it to his lips and blew through it, assuring himself that it was hollow. Then he rushed madly back to the place where the engineer was immersed. Nor was he a minute too soon.
The man had sunk until the mud was at his very lips, and in another few moments it would inevitably close over his mouth and nostrils. Bert dashed out on the quaking path, careless of his own danger, and in a few words explained his plan to the engineer. The latter's eyes lighted up with hope, and expressed the thanks he had no time to utter.
Bert got as near him as he could, and thrust one end of the reed intoHartley's mouth. His teeth and lips closed tightly about it.
"There you are." exclaimed Bert, exultantly. "Now you can breathe through that reed until help comes from camp, and then we'll get you out if we have to drain the swamp to do it. I'll stay right here till they come, and the reed will mark your position. Keep up hope and you'll be all right yet."
His eloquent eyes told Bert that he understood, and now there was nothing to do but sit down and wait for the expected help to arrive from camp. He knew that this would not be for some time yet, and his only hope was that the man in the swamp would not sink deeper than the length of the reed.
He sank very slowly now, but none the less surely, and gradually the mud covered his mouth—his nostrils—his eyes—and at length his head sank beneath the surface. The smooth mire closed over the place where he had been, and the slender reed was all that remained to connect him with the living, pulsing world about.
At the thought of the horrible death the engineer would now have suffered without the aid of that frail thing Bert shuddered, and thanked Heaven for the inspiration.
The seething tropic life went on without interruption, as Bert sat on the edge of the swamp with his eyes fastened on the reed. From the jungle back of him came the myriad cries of the wild things: the chatter of monkeys, the screams of the gaily colored parrots, and, once, the distant yell of a mountain lion.
The tropic sun beat down with ever-increasing intensity as it neared the zenith, and Bert felt an awful oppression stealing over him. After the first flush of triumph over cheating the bog, at least temporarily, of its victim, a rush of doubts and fears came over him. Could the engineer retain consciousness, immersed as he was in the vile, sticky mud? Would he not give up, and release his hold on the precious reed? These and a thousand other misgivings tortured Bert as he watched the reed and waited for the expected reinforcements. The minutes seemed hours, and when he looked at his watch he was astonished to find it was not yet noon.
At length his weary vigil was broken by a distant shout, which he recognized as Tom's. All his fears vanished at the prospect of immediate action, and he raised a great shout in return. In a few moments he could hear the noise occasioned by the passage of a considerable body of men, and soon the rescuing party hove in sight. This consisted of several of the camp engineers and foremen, together with eight or ten husky laborers. Everybody, including Tom and Dick, carried shovels and ropes, and some of the laborers bore long, wide planks on their shoulders.
Dick and Tom rushed forward, followed by the others, but stopped short when they looked at the treacherous swamp and saw no sign of the engineer. Their faces paled, and Dick exclaimed, "Too late, are we? We did our best, but we've got here too late."
Grief was written on every face, but this was soon dispelled when Bert exclaimed, briskly, "Too late nothing. He's under the swamp, to be sure, but he's breathing through the reed you see sticking up there," and he pointed out to them this slender barrier between life and death.
"Well, I'll be hanged," muttered one of the rescuing party, "how in the world did he ever come to think of that, I wonder?"
"Never mind how I came to think of it!" exclaimed Bert, "the thing is now to get him out. I've been watching that reed, and I don't believe he's more than ten inches or a foot below the surface. I feared he'd be a good deal deeper by this time."
Accordingly the rescuing party fell to with feverish haste, and began constructing a sort of boxed-in raft about eight feet square. This would support several people on the shaky surface of the bog, and it would give them a place to work on while attempting to extract Hartley.
In the meantime, what had been the sensations of the unfortunate engineer? As the thick mud slowly closed over his head he held the reed tightly between his lips, and had little difficulty in breathing through it. The mud was warm, and strange to say, he had a feeling almost of comfort as he sank beneath it. Soon he felt an almost overpowering desire to sleep. He knew, however, that if he yielded to this he would lose his hold on the reed, and so fought off the perilous drowsiness.
Before very long he felt something hard under his feet, and was conscious that he was no longer sinking. At first he was at a loss to know what had stopped his downward progress, but at last decided he must have come to rest on a sunken stump. This theory was confirmed when he felt around, first with one foot and then with the other, and found that on all sides of him there was only soft mud. But the stump beneath him renewed his hope.
Above ground the rescuing party was plying its saws and hammers to good effect, and in an incredibly short time had finished the rough raft. This done they spread the remaining planks along the so-called path leading into the swamp, and prepared to launch their "mud boat," as Tom styled it.
The rude affair was hoisted up on the brawny shoulders of the laborers, and they carried it into the swamp, treading very gingerly on the narrow, quaking pathway. They "launched" it at a spot as near as possible to the reed, and it was evident that it would give them an ample base from which to conduct their operations.
Stout ropes were then brought, and one of the engineers reached down into the soft mud directly under the spot where the reed disappeared. Quickly drawing his hand up, he exclaimed, "I touched him easily that time! Give me the rope, and I think I can reach down far enough to get it under his arms."
The rope was given him, and, reaching far over the side of the raft, he plunged his arms into the mud up to his shoulders. He manipulated the rope deftly, and soon jumped to his feet, waving his muddy arms.
"I've got it tied, all right," he exclaimed. "Now, men, we'll see if we can't pull the poor fellow out."
Three of the laborers took hold of the rope, and exerted all their strength on it. Slowly, very slowly, inch by inch, they pulled it up, until at last, amid a roar of cheers from them all, Hartley's head appeared above the surface of the swamp, the reed still held between his lips. The men leaned over and grasped his arms, and at last succeeded in pulling him into the boat.
He was a strange figure, and would hardly have been recognized as being a man. The thick mud clung to him, and made his features unrecognizable.
"Here," exclaimed Bert, "let's get the mud off him," and accordingly the contents of several water bottles was dashed over his face. At last he was able to open his eyes and to speak.
"There's no use my trying to thank you," he said, addressing the little group. "Nothing I can say can express my thankfulness to everybody here, and especially these three lads, who have certainly done wonders for me."
"Oh, that's all right," said Bert, "maybe you'll have a chance to do something for us one day, and then we'll be quits."
"Well, that doesn't alter matters at present," replied Hartley, "and you and your friends certainly did everything that could be done. I had just about given up hope when you happened along."
"It's a lucky thing for you they did, Hartley," broke in one of the engineers, who had accompanied the rescuing party. "Why, when these two lads dashed into camp and told us of your fix, we gave you up for lost. That reed business was certainly a great stunt."
"No doubt about it," agreed another, and the three boys were deluged with a flood of like congratulations. Then the party started back. Hartley pluckily declared that he could walk, but they overruled him, and took turns in carrying him on a rude litter that they had hastily knocked together.
"That fellow certainly has got wonderful nerve," said Tom to Bert andDick, and they heartily agreed with him.
The party reached the camp without further adventure, and Mr. Hartley was put under the care of the camp physician. The latter pronounced him all right with the exception of the shock, and the only prescription he gave was "two or three days of thorough rest."
"Well, that's easy medicine to take," said Hartley, with a faint smile, when he heard this verdict, "but I hope you lads will come and visit me and help me kill time. I'm used to a pretty strenuous life, and time will hang awfully heavy on my hands if you don't. Besides, I want to have a chance to express my appreciation of your brave conduct better than I have been able to so far."
"Well, we'll come to see you, all right, with pleasure," said Bert, "only first we want to make one condition."
"And what is that?" inquired the engineer.
"Why, that you'll cut out saying anything about our 'brave conduct,'" said Bert. "We're naturally modest, you see," he added jokingly, "and anything like that bothers us."
"Well, all right. I suppose in that case I'll have to agree to your condition," assented the other, reluctantly, "but you can't keep me from thinking it, anyway."
"All right, then, that's agreed, and we'll let it go at that," said Bert, with a smile, "we'll be up to see you as soon as the doctor will let us, won't we, fellows?" turning to Dick and Tom.
Of course they were willing, so it was agreed that they should visit the engineer's tent, the next day but one. This matter settled, the three comrades took a cordial leave of Mr. Hartley, and made their way back to their own quarters. Until now they had not realized how tired they were, but before they had gotten to their room they all felt as though they could scarcely keep awake.
They managed to defer their sleep long enough to eat a hearty supper, however, but then "made a dash for the hay," as Tom expressed it.
It did not take them long to get to sleep that night, and they were too tired even to discuss the exciting happenings of this eventful day.
With the characteristic recuperative power of youth, however, they were up bright and early the next day, and all three expressed themselves as feeling "as fit as a fiddle."
"But just the same," remarked Dick, "I feel like loafing around to-day and taking things easy. Let's go up to the stone crushing works and watch them. That's my idea of the most restful thing in the world—to watch somebody else working."
"It certainly is," agreed Bert, with a laugh, "but I'm afraid the 'somebody else' might not appreciate your philosophy."
"Oh, that's all right," said Dick. "Some time when I'm working, the other fellow is welcome to watch me, and then he'll be getting his rest."
"Huh," remarked Tom. "I'd hate to have to wait for my rest until you started laboring. I'm afraid I'd surely die from overwork before that happened."
"Oh, don't worry about your dying from overwork," retorted Dick, "that's my idea of the last thing in the world to be afraid of. What do you think, Bert?"
"Oh, I don't imagine any of us will get heart failure very soon from that cause," laughed Bert, "but here we are at the workings already, so let's proceed to take your 'rest cure,' Dick."
It seems hardly probable, however, that any invalid, suffering from "nerves" or some kindred disorder, would have selected this as an ideal place to recuperate. Everywhere the greatest activity was apparent, and the combined din of the different machines was a thing to be remembered. A steam shovel rattled and puffed, cement mixers crashed, and compressed air drills hammered perseveringly at the living rock. Every once in a while, work would cease at some point, and the laborers would stand around expectantly.
Then there would come a muffled roar from some exploded blast, and a cloud of rocks, dirt, and smoke would shoot upwards. Then the men would fall to again with renewed energy, the giant steam shovel would be set to work, and a few more yards of rock would be carried away.
Thus the work proceeded without intermission, and the boys, although now somewhat used to the sights, looked on fascinated. There was something very wonderful and awe-inspiring about the whole process that held the boys spellbound.
"Just think of it," said Bert, after a long silence. "Imagine us standing maybe half a mile away from this canal and seeing some big ocean liner going through it. Why, it will look as though the ship were going over the solid ground."
"That's what it will, all right," replied Dick. "It's certainly the biggest thing ever."
"I should think it was," said Tom. "I can't think of anything else that even compares with it.".
"No, neither can I," said Bert, thoughtfully. "That is, no practicable project. Of course wild schemes come up now and then to change the earth's course, or some other crazy idea like that. I remember reading of a plan like that somewhere. It seems its originator, whoever he was, planned to build a great ring of iron all around the earth at the equator, and then charge it with electricity. He figures that the immense magnetic attraction generated in that way would change the earth's course by acting on neighboring planets. I haven't much confidence in the plan, though," and, as Bert said this, he looked at Tom, slyly.
"Confidence!" exclaimed Tom, with a contemptuous snort. "Why, of all the fool schemes I ever heard of that's the limit. I shouldn't think you'd even——" but here he caught the twinkle in Bert's eye, and stopped abruptly.
"Ha, Ha!" roared Dick, "my, but you had Tom going that time, Bert, he thought you were in earnest about that."
"Well, why shouldn't I think he was in earnest?" growled Tom. "He's pretty near foolish enough even to believe in a demented idea like that. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had."
"Well, never mind, old timer," said Bert, "I put one over on you that time, though, I guess. You'll have to admit it."
"Yes, I guess you did," said Tom, "but I'll get even for that sometime.Don't be surprised if you find a little rat poison in your soup some day.That's the only punishment I can think of that would fit the crime."
"Oh, that's all right," laughed Bert. "If it's like most rat poisons, all it will do is to make me fat and strong. I remember a friend of mine whose father was a farmer. He was telling me how his father scattered poison all around his barn in the hope of killing off a few of the pests, but he said that all the effect it seemed to have was to make them hungry, so that they ate more grain and feed than before. Maybe that's the way it will work with me, only the comparison isn't very flattering."
"It isn't, for a fact," said Dick, "but I hope in this case Tom isn't as blood thirsty as he sounds."
"Well, I might be persuaded to postpone the execution," admitted Tom, with a grin. "I'm always open to an offer, and a little matter of a five dollar bill or so would buy me off."
"All right, consider yourself paid," said Bert. "I'd rather owe it to you all my life than cheat you out of it."
"Much obliged, I'm sure," replied Tom, sarcastically. "As soon as I get the five spot I'll blow you both to a swell dinner."
"Good night," exclaimed Dick. "I hope I don't have to go hungry until that happens. I have a feeling that I'd lose considerable weight."
"You'll have alongwait, that's certain," replied Tom, and prepared to take to his heels.
The only indication Bert and Dick gave that they heard this atrocious pun was a couple of hollow groans and melancholy head shakes.
"Poor old Tom," mourned Dick at length, "poor old Tom. I've feared for some time he was going off his head and now I know it. That's proof beyond question."
"Don't let it turn your hair gray," retorted Tom. "As long as I don't worry about my condition you don't need to. But I'll promise to be good and not do it again, anyway. That was a pretty rotten joke, I'll have to admit."
"That's all right," said Bert, "we forgive you. I'm glad to see that you realize what a crime it was."
After this they fell to discussing the events of the day before, and became so interested that they could hardly believe it was lunch time, when the whistles blew and the men threw down their tools and prepared to take a well earned rest for a brief hour. "Well," said Bert, glancing at his watch, "I guess it's about time we hit the trail toward the nearest eats emporium. Now that its called to my attention, I begin to realize that I'm hungry."
The others also discovered symptoms of a healthy appetite, so without further loss of time they hurried back to their 'base of supplies' as Tom put it.
"If we're as hungry as this without having done much all the morning, what would we be if we had been working since eight o'clock?" queried Dick, and the others were unable to give him a satisfactory answer.
"I guess they'd have to stop work, owing to a shortage in the food supply," said Bert, and his companions laughingly agreed with him.
They made a hearty lunch, and then returned to the scene of the excavations. There were a thousand interesting things to watch, and the afternoon passed very quickly. Their attention was specially attracted by one giant steam shovel that rattled and puffed like some untiring monster. The engineer guiding it directed its every motion with a touch of one of the levers close to his hand, and it seemed as though the machine were a living creature and he its brain. The great scoop would drop with a roar of chains passing through pulleys, and then, as the main engine began to puff, would rise slowly but with irresistible force.. Then a pair of auxiliary cylinders mounted on the beam of the shovel would begin to work, and the big scoop with its load of dirt and rocks would swing around and stop over one of the dirt cars. The engineer's assistant would pull a rope attached to the scoop, a catch would be released, and the bottom of the scoop would swing open, letting the load fall into the waiting car. This process would be repeated again and again, and then, when the shovel had scooped up all the dirt around it, it would be moved forward a few feet, under its own power, to a new base of operations.
It seemed that its power was almost limitless, but at last there came a time when the boys thought it would meet an insurmountable obstacle. Close to where they sat, a big stump projected from the ground. Part of its gnarled and twisted roots was exposed, but a good deal of it was firmly imbedded in the earth. The steam shovel had worked its way along, until now it had reached a spot directly in front of this stump. The boys thought that some laborers would be sent to uproot it, so that the shovel could proceed, but there was no sign of this being done.
"Say!" exclaimed Dick. "I'll bet any money they mean to uproot that stump with the shovel, but I don't believe it can be done. Why, it would take a charge of dynamite to get that up."
"It certainly looks pretty solid," said Bert, "but they must know what they're doing. We won't have to wait long, though, to find out. Look! they're bringing the scoop up under it now!"
The three comrades watched intently as the big scoop dug in under the stump. As it came fairly up against the obstacle it slowed and almost stopped, and the boys caught their breaths. But the engineer opened the throttle a trifle more, and the stump moved! Slowly it gave way, one root after another snapping off with a loud report, and at last was lifted clear of the ground.
"Well, what do you know about that!" exclaimed Tom. "I thought the old steam shovel was up against it for fair, that time."
"So did I," said Bert, "but it fooled us good and proper."
"It's such things as that steam shovel that make the canal possible," said Dick, "just imagine the time it would take to dig that stuff out by the old method of shoveling. Why, it would take so long that we'd never live to see it finished."
"Yes, I guess you're right," said Bert, "and look at those compressed air drills working over there. Think how long it would take to bore out those holes by the old method of hammering a drill into the rock. There's no doubt, that, as you say, modern machinery is the only thing responsible for this work. It's a wonderful thing, any way you look at it."
It was indeed a subject admitting of much speculation, and the boys never tired of talking about it. In this way the afternoon passed very quickly, and when work was stopped they returned to their quarters.
On the way back, Bert said, "We might as well make arrangements now as later, fellows, for going to see Mr. Hartley. You know we promised to call on him to-morrow. What time shall we get there?"
"Oh, I should think right after lunch would be about the best time, don't you?" said Dick, and as there seemed to be no objection to this plan, they adopted it unanimously.
They arose early the next morning, and had ample time to take a long walk before breakfast. "Not that it's at all necessary," remarked Bert, "I don't very well see how any of us could have much better appetites than we have already."
"Yes, but if we didn't get all the exercise that we do, the appetites might not last very long," replied Bert.
They did not prolong their ramble long enough to interfere with breakfast, and got back to their quarters just in the nick of time.
"Another ten minutes," exclaimed Tom, "and we would have missed some of the eats. We certainly do have close escapes from disaster at times."
"It would certainly have been an awful calamity," grinned Bert, "but I think we must have some sixth sense that leads us back here in time for meals. I don't remember that we have ever been late to one yet."
"No, and we're not going to be, if I can help it," said Dick, and they all fell to in earnest.
Breakfast over, they selected a level spot not far from their quarters and had a "catch." Bert found his arm somewhat rusty, as he had not done any pitching to speak of for quite a while, but soon limbered up, and began "shooting them over" in his old time form. The morning passed quickly in the pursuit of this and other athletic exercises, and after a light luncheon the three comrades set out to visit Mr. Hartley in accordance with the plan they had formed the day before.
It was not a long walk to the engineer's tent, and they made short work of it. Needless to say, Mr. Hartley was more than glad to see them, and expressed himself cordially.
"Sit down, sit down!" he said heartily, after he had shaken hands with them. "I've been looking forward to this visit with great pleasure. I'm used to a pretty active life, and I hate to be laid up even for a day. The doctor tells me I've got to have a complete rest for a few days, though, and I suppose he knows best."
"Well, the doctor isn't always right in these cases," said Bert, with a smile, "although he probably is in this. I remember a good joke I heard about that once."
"Go ahead and tell it to us," urged Mr. Hartley.
"Oh, it's about an Irishman, Mike we'll call him, who had been sick for a long time. At last the day came, when, to all appearances, he had finally given up the ghost, and the family physician was as called in more as a matter of form than anything else. He made the customary tests, and at last pronounced poor Mike dead. But just then Mike suddenly sat up in bed. 'You're a liar, docther!' he said. 'Oi'm not dead at all, at all.' But at this point his wife stepped up. 'There, there, Mike,' she said, soothingly, 'lie down again. The `doctor knows best.'"
There was a roar at this.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Mr. Hartley, "that's a pretty good one. That man must have held a large life insurance policy, I should say, judging by his wife's conduct."
"Very likely," grinned Bert. "But I can't vouch for that."
Mr. Hartley then related one or two of his pet stories, and soon they were all on the best of terms. After a while the conversation drifted around to local topics, and the boys were much interested in Mr. Hartley's description of places and happenings in the country bordering the "big ditch."
"Yes, there are more curious and unheard of places in this little strip of country than in any other place I know of, comparable to it in size," he said. "Why, if a quarter of the stories the natives tell are true, it is a veritable wonderland. And I think some of them are true. With my own eyes I have seen some of the things they talk about."
"Tell us of some of them, won't you?" requested Bert, and the engineer seemed nothing loath.
"There is one experience in particular that comes to my mind," he said, "that I have always meant to follow up at the first opportunity. It was while quite a party of us were out hunting, with three of the natives as guides. It was along toward the beginning of operations on the canal, and we were held up by a delay in delivering some of the machinery, so had plenty of time on our hands. Well, as I say, we started out bright and early one morning, led by the three guides, who had brought a strange story into camp. They told us of a ruined city they had discovered in the heart of the jungle. According to them, this old town covered miles of territory, and was presided over by some demon who claimed the lives of all who penetrated within its boundaries. And we were led to give some credence to their story by the fact that while they agreed to guide us to the city, they expressly stipulated that we should not require them to guide us further than its boundaries. They would stay outside, they said, and take the news of our death back to camp. They seemed to have no doubt that the demon would 'get us,' and you may be sure our curiosity was greatly excited.
"I and four others of the corps of construction engineers resolved to run this mysterious devil to the ground, and so, as soon as we could make the necessary arrangements, started out. We soon entered the jungle, and made steady progress. As far as we could judge we went almost due south. We traveled with hardly a stop other than long enough to eat, that first day, and only stopped when darkness made further progress impossible.
"We were up bright and early the next morning, and about noon caught our first glimpse of the ruined city. Way down a clearing in the jungle, we could see tall white pillars, many of them partly hidden by creeping vines.
"We all broke into a run, and in an hour or so were on the outskirts of the old city. And believe me, my lads, at one time that had been a city with a capital C! It had evidently been laid out in well ordered streets and squares, and everywhere houses were bordered by the remains of what had been great temples and buildings. Most of them were on the ground, mere heaps of ruins, but a few were still standing, at least in part, and we could get a faint idea of what the old city must have been in those far off days of its prime. At present, though, it seemed to be the abode only of wild things.
"We gazed in wonder at this sight for some time, and then held a pow-wow. We had a long discussion as to whether we should start exploring at once, or wait till the next morning.
"We finally decided on the latter plan, as, in spite of our blastings about wanting to shake hands with the presiding devil, we really had no great hankering to meet him after dark. Of course, we none of us believed in that 'devil' business, but still we had no doubt that some secret menace hung over the old city. The guides were positive on this point, and as they had been right so far, we were inclined to give their opinions some consideration."
Here Mr. Hartley paused as though to gather his thoughts, and the three boys, who had been listening intently to his narrative, drew a deep breath.
"My!" exclaimed Tom, "make out we wouldn't like to have been with you then."
"Yes, I daresay you would," said Mr. Hartley, with a smile, as he noted the eager longing in the eyes of his listeners. "I think it would have been an adventure after your own heart. But wait till you hear the rest, and you may be glad you were not along."
"I doubt it," said Bert, "but go on with the story, if you please, Mr.Hartley."
"Well," resumed Mr. Hartley, "we made camp, as that appeared to be the desire of the majority, and turned in, as soon as we had eaten supper. We were all dead tired after the long journey, and I guess none of us were troubled in our sleep by thoughts of the strange spirit of evil that ruled the city, according to the natives. It's a lucky thing, sometimes, that you can't see into the future. If we could have done so that night, our sleep might have been less sound.
"We were awakened by the guides, who had already prepared a good breakfast for us, and you may be sure we all ate heartily, both because it tasted good and because we wanted to start out on our exploration in good trim.
"The meal despatched, we entered the ruins by what had apparently at one time been a great gate, but which now was nothing but a twisted heap of stone. Evidently the city had been encircled by a wall, but this had crumbled away and was overgrown by the tropical vegetation.
"Of course, we had to leave the guides behind us, as they positively refused to pass the boundaries. This didn't cause us much worry, however, for we knew from experience that, when it came to trouble, they were of little use.
"The ruins lay before us apparently devoid of any human inhabitants. At first we didn't know which way to go, but finally decided to make straight for what looked to have been the center of the town. As well as we could make out, all the streets seemed to converge toward that point, which had no doubt been the public square.
"We followed this plan, but as we went along were often tempted to alter it. More than once we passed some building that seemed in better repair than the others, and of course we wanted to explore it. But we thought it would be no use examining lesser ruins, when greater ones were at hand. For, as we got nearer the center of the town, we could see that the square was occupied by a building much more pretentious than any we had seen so far. From a distance it had looked merely like a jumbled mass of ruins, but when we at last stood before it we could see that such was far from being the case.
"To be sure, the building was in a ruinous condition, but, probably owing to its having originally been built in a more solid fashion even than its neighbors, it was in comparatively good preservation. Even the roof appeared intact in places, and we marveled as we gazed at it. Great columns rose tier after tier, interspersed with solid walls of granite, until they supported a roof at least eighty or a hundred feet from the ground. The facade was ornamented profusely with carvings of men and animals, some of them very well done, indeed.
"We realized that this building and its fellows must have been the production of some highly developed form of civilization, and many were the speculations as to who the ancient people could have been.
"But we soon got tired of looking at the outside, and were all seized with a desire to explore the wonderful place. Its main entrance was little obstructed, and there was nothing to prevent our going in. It was as black as pitch inside, although the sun was shining brightly, and we cast about for same means of lighting the interior. We secured some resinous fagots from a great tree that had sprung up near by, and found that they burned brightly and would serve our purpose perfectly.
"Each one of us armed himself with one of these, then, and took another along in reserve. In this fashion we invaded the ancient temple, for such we believed it to be, not without, it must be confessed, a rather chilly feeling in the neighborhood of the spine. At least, I felt that way, and I have no doubt the others did, too. However, we all carried revolvers, and felt confident that if the mysterious 'demon' attacked us, we would be able to give him a sharp argument.
"Nevertheless we kept closely together, and were inclined to believe firmly in the old adage that 'in numbers there is strength.' We had no difficulty in climbing over the fallen blocks encumbering the entrance, and soon found ourselves fairly on the inside. The place had a damp, earthy smell, and the air was very close and oppressive. It was black as pitch, too, and the light from our improvised torches did little to dispel the gloom.
"However, it would never do to back out now, so we advanced cautiously, stumbling every once in a while over some fallen piece of masonry. Our footsteps rang and echoed under the great vault that we could hardly see, so lofty it was. It seemed almost sacrilege to disturb the silence of this building, that had probably not echoed to human footsteps for centuries.
"We kept on, nevertheless, until we were halted suddenly by an exclamation from one of the men in front.
"Look, look!" he exclaimed, pointing with a trembling finger. We followed its direction, and I distinctly felt my hair rise on my head.
For there, high up near the roof, two green eyes glared down at us with a baleful sparkle! They glinted and glowed, and a gasp went up from our little party.
"'By all that's holy, what is it?' whispered Tom Bradhurst, my special friend.
"No one answered, but we all got a tight grip on our revolver butts. We gazed, fascinated, at those two lambent points of light, fully expecting to come to hand grips with the 'demon' then and there. As nothing happened, however, we plucked up courage enough to advance cautiously, and were soon near enough to make out the cause of our fright. The eyes were two great emeralds set in the head of a colossal idol carved out of a great block of solid granite! The image must have been at least thirty feet high, and the emeralds were each as large as a robin's egg.
"'Great Scott!" ejaculated Bob Winters, another of our party, "that thinghas scared me out of ten years of life, and I'm going to have my revenge.I'm going to climb up there and get those emeralds, if it takes a leg.Why, there'll be a fortune in them for all of us."
"We tried to dissuade him, for our nerves had been shaken, and we didn't want to monkey with the confounded things. Bob was always a dare-devil chap, though, and set on having his own way. So he went at it, climbing nimbly up the front of the image, until he was in a position to touch the great emeralds. Then he drew his hunting knife and commenced prying away at the stones to dislodge them.
"Suddenly he gave the most unearthly shriek it has ever been my lot to hear, threw his hands up over his head, and started sliding down the steep front of the statue. While the shriek yet rang in our ears, a great section of what had appeared to be solid rock flooring at the base of the idol opened inward, and our comrade's body hurtled through the aperture and disappeared from our sight. His hunting knife rattled on the stones at our feet, and then all was silence.
"If we had been standing a yard nearer the base of the image the whole party would have been dropped through the hole."
At this point Mr. Hartley paused in his narrative, and passed his hand over his eyes. The boys saw that great beads of perspiration covered his forehead, but they had been so absorbed in the story that they had not noticed this before. They waited breathlessly for him to resume, which he did after a few seconds.
"Well," he continued, "for a few seconds we were stricken motionless by the suddenness and horror of the thing. Then we gathered ourselves together, and rushed to the edge of the gaping opening. We shouted and called, and at last were answered by a faint moan. Then we looked into each other's eyes, and knew that there was only one thing to do. We must go down into that black hole and do what we could to rescue our friend.
"But how were we to accomplish this? We had no ropes, and the feeble light of our torches when we thrust them into the black opening failed to reveal any bottom. For this reason we dared not risk a drop, with almost the certainty of not being able to get back again."
"It looked as though we were 'up against it,' but finally we made a makeshift rope by tearing up part of our clothing into strips and tying them together. This made a fairly serviceable rope, and, after tying knots in it at intervals to facilitate our descent, we lowered it into the opening. When we had let it out almost to the end it stopped swinging, so we knew it had touched bottom. I volunteered to go down first, and did so."
"It was ticklish business, and more than once I almost lost my hold.Finally, however, my feet touched a hard floor, and I let go."
"All right!" I shouted to those above. "Come on down."
"Coming, old man," replied 'Brad,' and the sound of his cheery voice was a great comfort to me. I knew he would soon be with me, and so gave my attention to finding and helping Bob. I had not gone more than a few steps when I discovered him stretched out on the cold rock floor, either unconscious or dead. I soon found the former to be the case, to my great relief, and forced a few drops of whiskey from my flask between his teeth.
"By the time Bradhurst had reached my side I could see some signs of returning consciousness in Bob's face, and before long he struggled to a sitting posture."
"Wh—what happened, anyway?" he asked.
"That's what we'd like to know," said Brad. "What made you fall that way. What struck you?"
"Something darted out of that cursed thing's mouth and pierced my hand," replied Bob, as he began to regain his memory. "Look at that!" and he held his left hand out for us to see.
"It had been neatly punctured by some sharp instrument, which left a small wound not more than an eighth of an inch across. The hand was puffed and swollen, though, and the thought flashed across my mind that this scratch was probably not as trivial as it looked. I had little doubt that the instrument, whatever it was, had been poisoned, and as I stole a swift glance at Brad I could see that the same thought was in his mind.
"Bob never seemed to think of this possibility, though, and you may be sure we were careful not to give him an inkling of our anxiety. That would do no good, and our fears might be unfounded.
"While we were examining the hand, our companions had descended, and of course Bob had to repeat the cause of the accident to them.
"But how do you feel now, old man?" queried Brad, when he had finished.
"Oh, nothing extra," replied Bob. "I seem to feel rather dizzy, but I suppose that's the result of the fall. I'm lucky not to have broken my neck."
"Well, anyway, it's up to us to get out of this hoodooed place as soon as possible," I told them. "Come along. I'll go up first, then you fellows come, and we'll haul Bob out."
"Accordingly I started up our improvised rope hand over hand. I had not ascended more than five or six feet, however, when with a slight r-r-ip the rope parted above my head, and I fell back to the stones below. Fortunately I landed on my feet, and so escaped with nothing worse than a severe shaking up.
"But I had small reason to be thankful, nevertheless, for the desperate nature of our position was soon borne in upon me. How to get out—that was the question, and, when I put it up to my companions, they had no answer.
"The place in which we were now imprisoned seemed to be a sort of tunnel. It was not more than fifteen feet wide, but we had no means of telling how long it might be. To get out the way we had come was evidently out of the question, as the roof of the tunnel was at least twenty-five feet above our heads.
"Well, boys," said Bradhurst, at last, "the only thing we can do is to follow the course of this hole one way or the other, and try to find an outlet. And the sooner we start the better, as our torches aren't going to last much longer."
"Here was another horror added to our situation, which had seemed bad enough before. Without light, our chances of escape from the horrible place would be slight indeed, so we acted on our comrade's advice without delay.
"There was apparently little choice of direction. Our torches burned steadily, and so we knew there was no breeze coming from either direction that might point to an outlet. Our sense of locality was rather twisted by this time, but after a consultation we set out through the tunnel in what we believed to be the direction of our camp. Before we had gone far, Bob complained of wanting to sleep, and it was all we could do to keep him moving. I walked on one side of him, holding his arm, while Wryburn, another of the party, supported him on the other side. Brad walked in front, carefully scanning the walls of the tunnel for signs of an opening.
"After we had gone a considerable distance in this manner, we heard a faint roaring sound, that grew constantly louder as we pushed forward.
"It sounds like water," said Wryburn. "We must be coming to a subterranean river."
"We had little doubt that this theory was correct, and pressed forward with renewed hope. At any rate, we had the assurance that the tunnel would not end in a blank wall, as we had feared, and so force us to retrace our footsteps.
"We were held back badly by Bob, though, who, by now, had become almost helpless. We were forced practically to carry him, and he seemed to have lost consciousness.
"All things have an end, however, and at last we stood on the bank of the underground river. It was two or three hundred feet wide, and raced along with a very powerful current. By this time you may be sure we were very thirsty, as well as hungry, and the cold water satisfied one craving if not the other. After we had drunk our fill we set to work dressing Bob's wounded hand as well as we could, which is not saying much. He seemed to be in a sort of coma, from which we were unable to arouse him."
"After we had made him as comfortable as possible we discussed plans of escape. I was of the opinion that our best course would be to follow the river in the hope of its emerging into the open at some point. There seemed to be no objection to this from my companions, so after a short rest we started out. First, we improvised a rude stretcher for Bob, and took turns carrying it."
"At the spot where we had first come upon it, the river was edged with a little strip of coarse gravel, but, as we progressed, this became narrower and narrower, and the river seemed to be running with even greater velocity than before. At last the strip of beach disappeared altogether, and we had no choice but to enter the water. We splashed along wearily, and hope burned lower and lower in our breasts. To add to our troubles, our stock of torches was almost exhausted, and we were forced to burn only one at a time, to make them last longer.
"The walls between which the stream now ran got closer and closer together, with the result that the water became deeper and rushed along with greater force. The sound of its roaring in the confined place was deafening, and communication with each other was out of the question.
"We had traveled perhaps three miles in this manner, when we suddenly noticed that the water seemed to be rising! Within a few minutes after we had observed this, it crept up to above our knees, and its roaring grew perceptibly louder. We looked desperately about us for some place of refuge, but there was none. The stream now ran in a cavern not more than eighty feet wide and ten feet high, and its smooth, water-worn walls stretched on into the darkness ahead without a break.
"We looked at each other in dismay, as the water crept up, deeper and deeper. Pieces of wood and branches of trees were now floating on it, and Bradhurst said, 'Boys, there must be a heavy rain outside, and this stream is feeling its effects. If we don't get to some place where it widens out very soon, we might as well write each other's epitaphs. We've got to hurry like—listen! What was that?'"
"From the blackness in back of us came a sudden loud, menacing roar, growing in volume every second."
"Come on, boys, quick!" yelled Bradhurst, setting us the example by forging ahead faster than before. "There's a big wave coming that'll fill this place up to the roof, and the Lord help us if it overtakes us here."
"We stumbled along as fast as we could, but could make but slow progress, burdened as we were by the helpless form of our comrade. The water was almost to our waists, and the awful wave back of us approached with horrible rapidity. We were about ready to give up, when Bradhurst, who was a little in the lead, came ploughing back to us.
"Come along for your lives, boys," he shouted above the noise of the water. "This infernal hole widens out a little further on, and if—here, you fellows are tired out. Hustle along, and I'll carry Bob."
"We tried to stop him, but he paid no attention to us, and, stooping over, lifted the unconscious form of our companion on his broad back. Thus relieved, we put all our ebbing strength in one last mad dash, pulling Brad and his burden along with us. At last we reached a place where the cavern widened, and struggled up on a strip of sandy beach. But we were not out of the water's power yet, by any means. We knew that our only salvation lay in finding some refuge above the highest level the stream would be likely to reach, and so began a frantic hunt along the walls of the cavern.
"By the greatest good fortune, my eye caught sight of a rocky projection, quite a way up the side of the cave, and I yelled to my companions. They hurried over, and we climbed desperately up the rocky wall. I was the first to reach the platform, and I helped the others over its edge. Bradhurst waited until we were all up, and then hoisted Bob up over his head. I leaned over as far as I could, and was just able to get a grip on the unconscious man. Assisted by the others, I pulled him up, and then in a twinkling we had Brad up, too.
"And not a second too soon, either. Even as we hauled our friend over the edge, a great foaming wall of water leaped out of the tunnel from which we had emerged not three minutes before, and boiled out over the floor of the cave in which we were. It washed against the walls, and we thought for a few seconds that it would even reach our place of refuge. It did lap up to within a foot of us, but then spread out more and subsided a little.
"We would have been as helpless as so many chips of wood if it had caught us while in the narrow tunnel, and we shuddered as we thought of our narrow escape.
"The ledge on which we found ourselves was amply supplied with driftwood, probably left there at the time of some former flood that had been even fiercer than this one. We made a fire, and waited for the water to subside with as much patience as we could muster. We knew that Bob would probably die unless we could get him to a doctor soon, and this made the waiting all the harder. At times he would rave in delirium, and at others lie so quiet that more than once we thought him dead.
"But the water did go down after what seemed to us an age, but was in all probability not more than a few hours. We resumed our journey down its channel, and by great good fortune came at last to the place where it emerged into the open air. The sun was shining brightly, and words are inadequate to describe our joy at seeing it once more. We took deep breaths of the warm tropical air, so grateful after the damp, confined atmosphere in which we had been so long, and thanked a kind Providence for our escape.
"We made our way back to our camp, and arrived just in the nick of time. Our guides had given us up as lost, and were much astonished at seeing us. After their first astonishment had worn off, they seemed to regard us with the greatest respect, which we were at a loss to account for at the time. We later found out that it was because we had been able to cheat the inexorable 'devil,' supposed to rule the old city, of his prey.
"We returned to camp by forced marches, and turned Bob over to the camp physician. He recovered at last, all but his hand, which never regained its power. The natives said it was the 'demon's curse,' and possibly they were right.
"At the time nothing could have hired us to go back to the old ruins, but lately I've had a sneaking desire to go back and finish exploring that old temple. Perhaps I shall, some day, and likely as not the devil will get me, this time. Who knows?"
Mr. Hartley ended his strange narrative with a smile, half serious, half comical, and his listeners drew a long breath.
They voted it one of the most exciting tales they had ever heard, and besieged the engineer with questions as to the location of the ruined city. But Mr. Hartley only shook his head.
"No, no," he said, and, although he smiled, his tone was serious. "It would be just like you madcaps to undertake a journey there, and I don't want to be the cause of your death. If you don't mind, I'd rather not tell you."
Although disappointed, the boys did not press the matter, and after a little further discussion of the engineer's story, took their departure.
"Just the same," declared Bert, on their way home, "I'd like nothing better than for us three to tackle that 'devil.' I have an idea we could stand him on his head."
"I'd like to try it, anyway," declared Tom, and Dick declared himself as feeling the same way.
They talked about little else that evening, and if, after they were asleep, they were troubled by nightmares, the cause was not hard to determine.