A SCIENTIFIC FACT.
For an instant, following Motor Matt's tragic announcement, McGlory and Burton were stricken dumb with horror. The cowboy was first to recover his wits, and he leaped to the back of Burton's horse.
"Doctor!" he shouted, galloping madly along the road between the ropes that separated the crowd; "we want a doctor! Where's a doctor?"
In a crowd like that it was natural that there should be many doctors, and no less than three forced themselves through the throng, dived under the ropes, and hurried to Motor Matt.
Among these three physicians was Doctor Horton, an old man of no particular school, but widely read and eminent in his profession.
"He'll die," said one of the medical men. "If that snake was a genuine cobra, and if its fangs were not removed, Motor Matt might as well make his will—and be quick about it."
"My opinion exactly," said the other physician.
"Bosh!" answered Doctor Horton derisively.
The other two turned on him.
"What do you mean, Horton?" they demanded.
"Just what I say," was the response. "This brave lad, who endangered his own life to save innocent spectators, is as sound as a dollar this minute."
"Then the snake was not a cobra," averred one of the others.
"Itwasa cobra," snapped Doctor Horton; "I saw it."
"Then its fangs had been pulled."
"They had not been pulled—I saw them, too."
"It is not possible, in that case, that the young man was bitten."
"Not bitten?" cried Doctor Horton ironically, lifting Matt's wrist, which he was holding. "Certainly he was bitten, and by one of the most poisonous snakes of which we have any knowledge. There's the mark, gentlemen, and it's as plain as the nose on your face. We were looking up at him, weren't we, when he was fighting the cobra and fighting, at the same time, to keep the flying machine from dropping into the crowd? And didn't we see him fling out his arm with the snake hanging to his wrist? The force in the throw of the arm—and there's some strength there, gentlemen, believe me," interjected the doctor, patting the biceps—"flung the reptile off. It fell, and so close to me that I had the pleasure of putting my heel on its head. Do you suppose for a minute that the cobra could hang to Motor Matt's arm without biting? I am surprised at you."
"What's the answer?" inquired one of the other two.
"The venom of the cobra," proceeded Doctor Horton, "acts swiftly on the human system. Yet we see here none of the symptoms attending such poisoning. By now, you understand, they should be well advanced. You ask me the reason our brave young friend is in a normal condition? A scientific fact has come to his rescue. It is well known," and the doctor accented the "well" and gave his medical confrères a humorous glance, "that the cobra can bite, but cannot release its poisonunless the fangs come together in the wound. In this case, the fangs did not meet, consequently the bite was as harmless as that of the ordinary garter snake."
Dr. Horton slipped his fingers along Matt's wrist and gripped his hand.
"You are to be congratulated; my lad," he went on. "It was your quickness in seizing the snake, I infer, and in hurling it from the aëroplane, that prevented it from laying firm hold of you. Tell us what happened. We have learned a little from the acrobat who was on the trapeze, and who dropped off when near the ground, but we were all too much excited, at the time, to pay much attention to him. Besides, he was under the aëroplane, and in no position to know just what went on in your vicinity. Give us the facts."
Matt, relieved beyond expression, told of the cause of the short circuit, and of his attempts to get the machine in the right position for alighting; and finished with a terse account of the way he had grabbed the cobra and flung it from him.
The exciting chronicle was set forth in few words and with the utmost diffidence. The recital, however, struck an undernote of courage and self-sacrifice in the line of duty that caught Doctor Horton's admiration.
"Once more," said the physician, taking Matt's hand. "What you accomplished, my lad, was nobly done. How many could have kept their wits in such a situation? Not many—hardly one out of a thousand. You're the manager of this show, are you?" he added, turning to Burton.
"I am, yes, sir," replied Boss Burton.
"Then you owe Motor Matt a lot. A fearful accident has been averted, and you might have been swamped with damage suits."
The crowd surged around theComet, and stout canvasmen had to be summoned to force the people back. Burton, mounted on his saddle horse, saw a chance to say a few words.
"Good people," he shouted, "every act down on my bills is faithfully given exactly as represented. I tolerate no misstatements in any of my paper. The gallant young motorist, who has exhibited his aëroplane to you this afternoon in an act more thrilling than even the most imaginative showman could advertise, is but one of many artists of world-wide reputation whom I have secured, at fabulous expense, to amuse you behind yonder tented walls. This is the only show now on the road to give, absolutely free, such a grand outdoor flying machine exhibition. Other acts, equally thrilling and instructive, will soon be performed in the two large rings and on the elevated stage under the main canvas. The doors are now open."
With that Boss Burton, having secured probably the greatest advertisement his show had ever received, rode off in the direction of the tents.
While the crowd followed, and Matt and McGlory found themselves, for the first time, able to have a little heart-to-heart talk, they drew off to one side and began making the most of their opportunity.
"Say, pard," said the cowboy glumly, "I'm about ready to quit this aëroplane business."
"Why?" asked Matt.
"There's not money enough in the country to pay me for going through what I did when I saw you swinging aloft with the cobra."
"You saw it?" queried Matt.
"That's what I did, and I yelled and tried to let you know about it, but the crowd was making so much noise you couldn't hear."
Dusk was beginning to fall, and the gasoline torches about the show grounds leaped out like dazzling fireflies. McGlory stared at them thoughtfully for a space, then passed a handkerchief across his damp forehead.
"It don't pay," he muttered. "You take all the risk, Matt, and Ping and I just slop around and kick you off when you make your jump skyward. I'd rather, enough sight, have been up in the machine with you than standing down here on the ground, watching and worrying."
Matt did not dismiss his cowboy pard's words with the careless laugh he usually had for such sage remarks.
"It's all nonsense, of course," said he, "your talking about me taking all the risk and doing all the work. I fly the machine because I'm the only one who can do it, but you help me in other ways that are just as important. I'm in the air for perhaps thirty minutes each day, while you're on the ground, old pard, and watching things during every hour of the twenty-four."
"Watching things!" exploded McGlory. "Speak to me about that! How well do I watch things? Did I see the Hindoo when he hitched that bag with the snake to the aëroplane? It was my business to get onto that, and I didn't know until you had left the road and were too far up to hear me. That's what I'm kicking about. I fell down—and I'm to blame for the whole bloomin' mishap."
"You're not," said Matt sharply, "and I won't have you say so. It's useless to harp on such things, anyhow, Joe, so let's discuss something of more importance."
"The way you fooled the cobra? Why, that's——"
"Not that, either. The bag tied to the aëroplane has the name of the show lettered on it, so——"
"Burton and I both discovered that," interrupted McGlory. "Carter had two bags containing the show money. We already had one, and that bag's the other. Wait, and I'll get it."
McGlory dived under the lower wing of the machine and groped about until he found the bag.
"There was nothing in it but the snake," said he, as he rejoined Matt. "It was a bagful of trouble, all right, at that. Fine two-tongue performance the Hindoo gave when he said he had sold the snake. Sufferin' Ananias! I suspected him of putting the bag there the minute I saw the cobra crawling up onto the lower wing, behind you and Le Bon."
"Did you hunt for the fellow?" asked Matt.
"Didwe! Why, Burton had every man that could be spared from the show chasing all over the grounds. What's more, he sent word to the police, and they're on the hunt. Here's what that Hindoo tinhorn has done: He tried to make Rajah wreck the aëroplane, and he tried his best to get you and the cobra mixed up while in the air. Why? What's his reason for actin' like that?"
"Give it up, Joe. Not only has Dhondaram done all that, but he has lifted Burton's ticket-wagon money. There's something back of it all, and I'd give a farm to know just what it is. If I——"
McGlory was interrupted by a cracked voice, down the road, lifted in what purported to be song:
"Hi le, hi lo, hi le, hi lo,Bei uns gets immer je länger je schlimmer,Hi le, hi lo, hi le, hi lo,Bei uns gets immer ja so!"
"Hi le, hi lo, hi le, hi lo,Bei uns gets immer je länger je schlimmer,Hi le, hi lo, hi le, hi lo,Bei uns gets immer ja so!"
"Carl!" exclaimed Matt. "I could tell that voice of his among a thousand."
"But what the nation is he coming with?" cried McGlory, peering along the road into the gloom. "Looks like he had a rig of some kind."
The "rig," when it drew closer, proved to be one of the donkey carts driven by the clowns in the parade. The Dutch boy was walking ahead and leading the donkey.
"Hooray for der greadt tedectif!" whooped Carl, bringing the donkey outfit to a halt. "Modor Matt, I haf dit vat you say."
"What have you done, Carl?" returned Matt curiously.
"Come aroundt by der cart und take a look!"
Thereupon Carl caught Matt's arm and led him to the cart. The cart was small and mounted on low wheels, and Matt and McGlory had no difficulty in looking down into it.
Ping, his hands and feet tied together, was roped to the seat. Suddenly he set up a wail.
"My velly bad China boy!" he whimpered, "velly bad China boy. Motol Matt, you no like Ping ally mo'."
"Dot's vat I dit," observed Carl, puffing out his chest, folding his arms, and striking an attitude. "I ketch der shink, like vat you say, und he shpeak oudt himseluf dot he don'd vas any goot. Vat I tell you ven ve vas at subber, hey? I vas der greadest tedectif vat efer habbened, I bed you."
PING ON THE WRONG TRACK.
To say that Motor Matt and Joe McGlory were surprised at the odd situation confronting them would paint their feelings in too faint a color.
"How did this happen?" demanded Matt.
"Me," said Carl, "I made it habben. Venefer I go afder some fellers I ged him. Yah, so!"
"What's Ping tied up for?"
"To make sure mit meinseluf dot he vould come."
"Where did you find him?"
"In vone oof dose ganvas wagons bedween vich der money vas took. He vas ashleep. I ged me some ropes und vile he shleep, py shiminy, I ged der rope on his hants. Den I porrow der mu-el und der leedle vagon. I see der flying mashine in der air, und I hear der people yell like plazes, aber I don'd haf time for nodding but der shink. You say to pring him, und I dit. Dere he vas. Ven Modor Matt tell Carl Pretzel to do somet'ing, id vas as goot as dit."
Another wail came from Ping, but it was not accompanied by any words that could be understood.
"Take the ropes off him, Carl," ordered Matt. "You should not have tied him like that."
"Den for vy he shleep in der ganvas wagon ven you tell him to drail der Hintoo?"
"Ping will explain about that."
"My velly bad China boy," gurgled the prisoner. "Motol Matt no likee ally mo'. Givee China boy bounce."
Carl, with an air of great importance, proceeded to take the cords off Ping's hands. The moment the ropes were all removed Ping leaped at Carl over the side of the cart, grabbed him savagely, and they both went down and rolled over and over in the road. The mixture of pidgin English and Dutch dialect that accompanied the scrimmage was appalling.
Quickly as they could, Matt and McGlory separated the boys and held them apart.
"I told you somet'ing," yelled Carl, "und dot iss der shinks is der vorst peoples vat I know."
"Dutchy boy no good!" piped Ping. "No lettee China boy savee face. Woosh!"
"Here, now," spoke up Matt sternly. "Tell us all about this, Ping. Did you follow the Hindoo, as I told you?"
"Allee same," answered the Chinese boy.
"Why did you leave the trail? Did you lose it?"
"My velly bad China boy," insisted Ping, with the usual wail.
"You didn't lose the trail?"
"No losee, just makee stop."
"You quit following the Hindoo?"
"Allee same," sniffed Ping.
"What was the reason?"
"My velly——"
"Yes, yes, I know all that, but tell me why you quit following Dhondaram."
"Him makee tlacks fo' ticket wagon, makee pidgin with tlicket man, makee go to canvas wagon, makee hide. Bymby, 'long come Dutchy boy, blingee tlicket man. Tlicket man him cally two bag. Hindoo makee jump, hittee Dutchy boy, knockee down." Ping chuckled as though he considered the matter a good joke. "Tlicket man and Hindoo man takee money bags, empty allee same in hat, takee snake flom basket, puttee snake in one bag, puttee othel bag in Dutchy boy's pocket. My savvy. Hindoo man and tlicket man stealee money, makee think Dutchy boy stealee. My thinkee one piecee fine business. Stopee follow tlail. Dutchy boy findee heap tlouble. My no ketchee Motol Matt, for' Motol Matt makee China boy tellee 'bout Dutchy boy. Woosh! Ping him velly bad China boy. No likee Dutchy boy. Heap likee him get in tlouble."
Here was a lot of information tied up in a small and ragged bundle of pidgin. In order to develop all the different parts of it, Matt undertook a line of patient cross-examination.
When the talk was finished the fact that stood out prominently was this, that Ping had allowed his feeling against Carl to beguile him into a most reprehensible course of conduct. He saw the thieves at work, and guessed that they were trying to involve Carl in the robbery. Ping was glad to have Carl involved, so he stopped following the Hindoo and hid himself away in order that Matt might not find him and learn the truth. It was sad but true that the China boy had let his hostility to Carl lure him away on the wrong track.
"Ping," said Matt sternly, "you acted like a heathen. Carl is a friend of mine, and entitled to your consideration. Instead of helping him out of his trouble, you held back in the hope that he would get into deep water. You can't work for me if you act like that."
"My makee mistake, velly bad mistake," moaned Ping. "No makee ally mo'."
"You have been telling yarns about Carl, too," went on Matt. "You told Boss Burton that you had found Carl going through your clothes and taking——"
"Py shiminy Grismus!" whooped Carl. "Take your handts avay, McGlory, und led me ged at dot yellow feller. Schust vonce, only vonce! He has peen telling aroundt dot I vas a ropper!Ach, du lieber!I vas so madt I feel like I bust oop."
"Hold your bronks, Carl," growled McGlory. "You're not going to get away."
"Allee same, Motol Matt, my speakee like that," acknowledged Ping. "Dutchy boy say China boy no good. My no likee."
"You told things that were not true," proceeded Matt, "and they helped to get Carl into trouble."
"My savvy."
"Are you sorry you did it?"
"Heap solly, you bettee."
"Py shinks," fussed Carl, "I'll make him sorrier as dot, vone oof dose days."
"I guess, Joe," remarked Matt, "that we'll have to cut loose from both Carl and Ping. What's the use of trying to do anything with them? They act like young hoodlums, and I'm ashamed to own them for pards."
"Pull the pin on the pair of them, Matt," counseled McGlory. "They make us more trouble than they're worth."
A howl of protest went up from Carl.
"For vy you cut loose from me, hey?" he demanded. "I dit vat you say. I pring in der shink."
"You don't do what I say, Carl," answered Matt. "I have tried to get you two boys to bury the hatchet, but you won't. This bickering of yours has resulted in a lot of trouble for all hands, and pretty serious trouble, at that. We can't work together unless we're all on friendly terms."
"My makee fliendly terms," said Ping eagerly. "Givee China boy anothel chance, Motol Matt. Plenty soon my go top-side, you no givee chance."
"Schust gif me some more shances, too, bard," begged Carl. "I don'd vant to haf you cut me adrift like vat you say."
"Well," returned Matt thoughtfully, "I'll give you just one more opportunity. Take the mule and wagon, both of you, and return them to the place where Carl found them. Remember this, though, that you can't travel withMcGlory and me unless you show a little more friendship toward each other."
Carl and Ping stepped forward in the gloom. There was a moment's hesitation, and then Carl took the mule by the halter and moved off. Ping trailed along behind.
"Don't say a word to any one about what Ping discovered," Matt called after the boys, and both shouted back their assurances that they would not.
"Well, tell me about that!" gasped McGlory, his voice between a growl and a chuckle. "Ping saw the robbery, and was keeping quiet about it just to let Carl get into a hard row of stumps. He's a heathen, and no mistake."
"But the point that interests me a lot," said Matt, "is the fact that Carter himself is mixed up in the robbery! He planned it with this rascally Hindoo, who joined the show this morning and has been doing his villainous work all day. Carter was trying to get the benefit of the robbery and, at the same time, shirk the responsibility and stay with the show."
"How's that for a double deal?" muttered McGlory, amazed at the audacity of the ticket seller as Matt put the case in cold words. "But then," he added, "Ping may not be telling the truth."
"I've lost a good deal of confidence in Ping," returned Matt, "but I believe he's giving the matter to us straight. One of the money bags, as Ping says, was put in Carl's pocket while he was lying dazed and unconscious from the blow dealt him by Dhondaram; and Ping also says that the snake was put in the other bag. That has all been proved to be the case."
"And Carter must have slashed himself on the cheek just to make it look to Burton as though he'd had a rough time during the robbery!"
"Exactly."
"All this fails to explain, though, why Dhondaram tried to destroy the aëroplane, and then fastened the bag with the snake to the lower wing of the machine."
"We're on the right track to discover all that. Let's hunt up Burton, and then we can all three of us have a talk with Andy Carter."
"That's the talk!" agreed McGlory. "You stay here, pard, and I'll hunt up some one to watch theCometwhile we're gone. After what's happened to-day, I hate to leave the machine alone for a minute."
McGlory was not long in coming with a man to look after the aëroplane, and he and Matt left immediately to find Boss Burton.
FACING A TRAITOR.
Inquiry developed the fact that Boss Burton was in the ticket wagon with Carter, checking over the evening's receipts and making them ready to be carried to the train and safely stowed until the next town on the show's schedule was reached.
"We'll catch Carter right in the strong wagon," laughed McGlory, as he and Matt hurried to the place.
The door of the wagon was always kept locked. Matt knocked, and the voice of Burton demanded to know what was wanted.
"It's Motor Matt," replied the young motorist. "Let us in for a few minutes, Burton."
"I'll come out and talk with you. There's not much room in here."
"I'd rather talk in there," said Matt. "It's important. McGlory is with me."
A bolt was shoved and the door of the wagon pulled open.
"What's all the hurry?" asked Burton, as the boys crowded in.
"You'll know in a few moments," answered Matt, closing the door behind him and forcing the bolt into its socket.
Carter sat at a small table on which a shaded oil lamp was burning. He and Burton, it seemed, had finished their work, and there were two canvas bags, lettered like those with which Matt was already familiar, near the lamp. The bags were bulging with silver and bills. Convenient to Carter's hand lay a six-shooter.
Matt's eye was on the weapon. There was no telling what Carter would do when he learned why the boys had paid their call on him and Burton.
"What's up?" asked Burton.
"Something I've got to talk over with you and Carter," replied Matt.
Casually he picked up the revolver.
"A S. and W., eh?" he murmured, giving the weapon a brief examination. Then, still holding the weapon, he transfixed the ticket man with a steely look.
"Where's the money that was stolen this afternoon, Carter?" he asked.
Carter started up.
"What do you mean?" he flung back, his face flushing and then becoming deadly pale.
"That's what I'd like to know," blustered Burton. "You act as though you thought Andy knew where that money was."
"He does know," said Matt decisively. "The whole plot has come out. There were two robbers, Dhondaram and Carter."
"I'll not stand for this!" cried Carter wrathfully. "Burton," and he leveled a quick gaze at the showman, "are you going to let this upstart come in here and insult me?"
There was an odd glimmer in the showman's eyes.
"Be careful, Matt," he cautioned. "You're making mighty grave charges."
"Are they any graver," asked Matt, "than the charges you made against Carl?"
"You haven't the same foundation for them that I had—and have now, for that matter."
"You're on a wrong tack, Burton," proceeded Matt. "The theft of that money was the result of a plot between the Hindoo and Carter here——"
"And I struck myself in the head and cut my face, eh?" sneered Carter. "A likely yarn."
"Whether you were knocked down or not is open to question. But there isn't any doubt about your cutting your face. You say you fell against one of the wagon wheels. There's not a particle of evidence to bear out the story. You wanted to make it appear as though you were robbed. Dhondaram hid himself in one of the wagons——"
"Oh, he did!" returned Carter ironically. "He knew your Dutch pard was going to ask me to go there, I suppose. If that's the case, why wasn't your Dutch pard in the plot, too?"
That was the one weak place in Matt's theory. According to Ping, Dhondaram had gone into hiding at the wagons. Matt supposed that Ping was a little at sea, or that the Hindoo had not made for the wagons until he had seen that Carl and Carter were going there.
"Dhondaram knew what was going to happen," continued Matt, "and he placed himself where he could be of most aid in carrying out the plot. He knocked Carl down, and while the lad lay senseless you and Dhondaram emptied the money bags into your hats. One of the bags was placed in Carl's pocket, and the Hindoo took the snake from the basket and placed it in the other bag. You two wanted the basket for the money, and you wanted the empty bag in Carl's pocket in order to throw suspicion on him. We all know how the other bag was used. Dhondaram said——"
Carter gave a startled jump, and a muttered oath fell from his lips.
"Did that infernal scoundrel tell you all this?" rasped out the ticket man.
"I'm not saying a word about——"
"I know he did!" ground out Carter, going all to pieces on the mere suspicion. "He told it all, and you——"
With a sharp cry of rage, Carter flung himself at Motor Matt and made a desperate effort to secure the revolver. Matt hung to the weapon, and Burton caught Carter and pushed him down in his chair.
"Here's a fine how-d'ye-do," grunted Burton. "Andy, you've worked for me two years, and I never thought you'd turn against me like this!"
"It was Ben Ali roped me into it," was Carter's angry reply. "If I had that gun in my hands, I'd show you a trick or two. Well," and he threw a look at Burton, chagrined but defiant, "what are you going to do about it?"
The showman sat down on the edge of the table.
"You admit the whole business, eh, Andy?" he asked.
"Dhondaram seems to have given his side of the story, and I might as well give mine," answered the ticket man.
Matt flashed a look at McGlory. The king of the motor boys had not intended to convey the impression that the Hindoo had been captured and had confessed, but Carter, out of his guilty conscience, had jumped to that conclusion.
"You might as well tell it all, Andy, and be perfectly frank with me," said Burton. "What had Ben Ali to do with the affair?"
"He figured it out while he was with the show," went on Carter. "So——" He broke off suddenly. "But what good is it going to do me to tell you all this?" he asked.
"It may do you a lot of good, Andy, and it may not do you any. You'll have to take your chances on that."
Carter was thoughtful for a few moments, and then gave vent to a bitter laugh.
"Well," said he recklessly, "here goes, neck or nothing. I'll see to it, though, that this Dhondaram has his share of the responsibility," and a glitter crept into the ticket man's eyes. "As I say, Ben Ali figured out how the game could be worked. We were going to try it long before we reached Lafayette, but circumstances didn't just shape themselves so we could pull it off. I thought about the deal for some time before I agreed to go into it. The habit you have, Burton, of making me tote the money bags to the calliope tent after the ticket office closes for the afternoon show first gave Ben Ali the idea. But Ben Ali, as you all know, made things too hot to hold him, in the show, and had to pull out. I was glad of it, for I thought the temptation had been taken away from me entirely, but this morning along comes Dhondaram, direct from Ben Ali——"
"From Ben Ali?" echoed Motor Matt.
"Speak to me about that!" grunted McGlory.
"Surprise to you, eh, Motor Matt?" observed Carter, with an evil grin. "Ben Ali is a bad man to get down on you, and I guess he's got as big a grouch against Motor Matt as he could have against any fellow on earth. Ben Ali, since he left the show, has been framing up a scheme to put the king of the motor boys out of business. In order to carry out his plan, he sent to Chicago for Dhondaram—and, between you and me, that's where Ben Ali made a mistake. The two Hindoos met near the town of Lafayette somewhere, and Ben Ali told Dhondaram what he wanted. Dhondaram was to hire out as a keeper for Rajah, and the elephant was to do the business for the aëroplane. The cobra was to make things warm for Motor Matt. It was all cut and dried between the two Hindoos.But I was rung into it when Ben Ali told Dhondaram to work the hold-up here in Jackson. Dhondaram came to me at the ticket wagon and I had a short talk with him. He said he'd bowl me over and get the money, and then take chances on getting away and playing even with Motor Matt later. I didn't know how the Hindoo was to work it; and I wouldn't have gone into the game at all if I had known all that was to happen.
"Dhondaram heard me talking with the Dutchman when he flagged me and wanted to talk. He must also have heard the Dutchman mention the canvas wagons, for he was there when we reached them. The first thing I knew the Dutchman was down, lying like a log on the ground. There was nothing for me to do then but to mar myself up and make it look as though there had been a fracas. We put the money in the basket, and hid the basket under a pile of old canvas in one of the wagons. It was arranged that I should meet Dhondaram to-night, bring the basket, and then we'd divide the loot.
"But I was suspicious of Dhondaram. He was a stranger to me, and I wasn't going to trust him. During the afternoon, while the aëroplane flight was on, I took the basket out of the wagon and stowed it in another place. By doing that I made it impossible for the Hindoo to pick it up and slope without meeting me. That's all."
"Where's the money?" inquired Burton.
He had had abundant faith in Andy Carter, and there was something almost sad in the showman's face as he listened to the tale of treachery.
Carter leaned forward.
"I'll tell you that, Burton," he answered, "just as soon as you promise to let me off and not make any move against me on account of the robbery."
The brazenness of the proposition struck Burton, and struck him hard. But it was the logical thing for Carter to do, in the circumstances. It was a trump card, and he was cunning enough to know how to play it.
"I'm getting a good many surprises to-night," muttered Burton, "but I guess I deserve it for trusting a whelp like you. I agree, of course. You know very well I can't do anything else."
"You'll not take any legal action against me?" asked Carter eagerly.
"No."
"Of course I can't work for the show any longer?"
"Well, I should say not! What do you take me for?"
"I thought as much, but I wanted to make sure."
"Just a moment," put in Matt. "Where were you to meet Dhondaram, and at what time?"
"Didn't he tell you that? It was to be sometime before the show was over, at the edge of the grounds on the south side. I was to come that way with the basket, and whistle. Where did you nab the Hindoo? I suppose it was that infernal snake business that got you after him."
"He hasn't been nabbed," returned Matt. "You took that for granted, Carter."
Carter sank back in his chair and stared. Then he swore under his breath.
"I'm a fool of the first water, and no mistake," said he, "but that Hindoo will kill me if he's left at large. You can capture him if you go where I told you and do what I said. I'm playing in tough luck, Burton," he added dejectedly.
"You're playing in more luck than you ought to have, at that," snarled Burton. "Put on your hat and coat, and we'll go for the money."
"No," put in Matt, "let me take his hat and coat."
Burton stared, then gave a short laugh as Matt's plan drifted over him.
"Right you are, Matt," said he. "Put on the hat and coat. I guess Carter won't take any harm going out in his shirt sleeves and without his hat. But give me the gun. That will be of use in case Andy forgets his agreement."
A few minutes later they all left the ticket wagon, locking the door behind them. The wagon was constructed of boiler iron, and the money in the bags would be safe where it was until the time came for loading the show and getting ready to move to the next town.
MEETING THE HINDOO.
Andy Carter, as it turned out, was playing his part in good faith. Perhaps he reasoned that he had been sufficiently treacherous, and that the very least he could do was to wind up a bad business on the square.
The basket, removed by him from the canvas wagon to prevent the Hindoo from making off with it, had been carried to a clump of bushes not far from the railroad tracks, on the north side of the show grounds, and covered with a pile of broken sticks and other refuse.
Men were already pulling down some of the auxiliary tents and loading them into wagons and driving the wagons to the waiting train. The elephants and nearly all the animal cages had been loaded, while the band wagons and the "chariots" had been stowed in their cars late in the afternoon.
"I suppose you're through with me, now?" inquired Carter, after Burton had secured the basket.
"I will be," said Burton, "as soon as I make sure that all the money is here."
"You'll be too late to catch the Hindoo," demurred Carter, "if you insist on going back to the wagon and counting over all that stuff."
"Then we'll lay the Hindoo by the heels before we count it. You can go with us, Carter. It'll do you good to see the fellow caught."
"He'll kill me!" declared Carter, drawing back.
"I guess he won't. There are too many of us for him to cut up very rough."
"If he sees all of us coming across the grounds, he'll suspect something and sheer off."
"There's sense in that, all right," remarked Burton. "On the whole, I believe I'll change my plans."
Burton stopped one of the wagons that was moving toward the train.
"Where's Harris?" he asked of the driver of the wagon.
"He's comin' right behind me," was the answer.
Harris was Burton's brother-in-law, and had always been in the showman's confidence. He was riding on a pile of tent poles, holding a couple of trunks on the load.
"Harris," called Burton, "I want you to take this basket down to the train for me. Don't let it get out of your hands."
"Another snake in it, Burton?" queried Harris, as he reached down for the basket.
"Well," answered Burton, "I wouldn't look into it to find out. Mind what I say and don't let the basket get away from you."
Having been reassured on this point by Harris, Burton, Matt, McGlory, and Carter moved on. Picking up two men at the dismantled animal tent, Burton turned Carter over to them.
"Andy has resigned," the showman explained dryly to the men, "and he wants to go to the train after his trunk. You men go with him, and keep hold of him all the time. Understand? See that he don't take anything but what belongs to him."
Carter was none too well liked among the show people, and the two men agreed cheerfully to look after him.
"Now," said Burton, as he walked off with Matt and McGlory, "we're in shape to meet the Hindoo. I don't know what I can do with the scoundrel after I get my hands on him. If he is put in jail here, I'll have to come back myself, or send somebody else, to make out a case against him. That wouldn't do—it would only cause extra expense and a loss of time. I guess we'll tie him up and take him along with us on section two of the train."
"Dhondaram ought to be made pay for what he has done," said Matt. "I think you ought to go to a little inconvenience, Burton, in the interests of law and order."
"The inconveniences may be more than you think, Matt. Suppose you would have to come back here to testify against the Hindoo? That would mean no aëroplane work for two or three days. I couldn't stand for that."
By that time, the three were close to the south side of the grounds. There were scattered clumps of bushes, here, and a few trees.
"We'd better hang back, Matt," whispered Burton, "while you go on and do the whistling. We'll be near enough to help you when Dhondaram shows himself. If he's too ugly, I'll use the revolver."
"He's got a bowie, Matt," cautioned McGlory. "Don't let him get a hack at you with it. He could help out Ben Ali's scheme of vengeance a good deal handier with the knife than with the cobra."
Matt stepped on ahead of Burton and McGlory, and began to whistle softly. He had not gone twenty feet before the whistle was answered and a dark figure stepped shadowily from behind some bushes.
"Carter Sahib!" came a low call.
"Dhondaram?" returned Matt.
"Here!" came the eager answer. "Have you brought the basket, sahib?"
"You know why I was to meet you," replied Matt, ignoring the question.
He disguised his voice as well as he could, and the low tone in which he spoke served still further to hide his identity.
The Hindoo could see that Matt was not carrying anything, and evidently his distrust was aroused.
"The sahib is fooling me!" he exclaimed. "You have not brought with you the basket. Part of the money is mine."
Matt had supposed that the Hindoo would run, as soon as he detected the trick. But he did not. On the contrary, he bounded straight at Matt and caught him by the shoulders.
"I want you, Dhondaram!" cried Matt, dropping his attempts at concealment. "You're a prisoner!"
Matt was strong, but the Hindoo was as slippery as an eel. With his arms about him, Matt tried to hold the villain, and in a measure succeeded. Dhondaram, however, heard the running feet and the voices of Burton and McGlory and redoubled his desperate efforts to escape.
He broke from Matt's arms, but Matt caught his left wrist and clung to it like a leech. With his right hand the Hindoo jerked his knife from his sash and made a vicious lunge with it.
Matt avoided the lunge, and before the attack could be repeated the showman and the cowboy had reached the scene.
Then, even with all three of them against him, Dhondaram made a desperate resistance. But numbers prevailed, and the rascally scoundrel's hands were bound at his back by means of his turban, which was opened out and twisted into a makeshift rope.
"He's a fighter, and no mistake," panted Burton, as he held the prisoner by one arm while McGlory took the other. "No more nonsense, Dhondaram," the showman threatened, flashing the weapon in front of his eyes."You see what I've got? Well, look out that I don't use it."
The six-shooter, dimly visible in the gloom, had a quieting effect on the Hindoo.
"Don't shoot, sahib," he begged. "I go where you want."
"That's better," said Burton. "Trot along, and we'll soon be where we're going."
Their destination was the train, and they presently had Dhondaram in the sleeping car attached to section two. Very few of the show people had arrived, as yet, and an attempt was made to get a little information out of the prisoner.
But the Hindoo would not talk. In response to every question put to him, he shook his head and held his tongue.
"He'll talk with us in the morning," said Burton confidently. "Just tie his feet, boys, and leave him here. I've got to go back to the ticket wagon."
Matt and McGlory made the prisoner's feet secure, and a tap on the window called Matt's attention. Thinking it might be Burton, wishing to give him a private message, Matt left the car.
It was not Burton, but Carter and the two men set to watch him. Carter wanted his hat and coat.
While Matt was returning the borrowed garments, Carl and Ping came along, talking amiably with each other. Matt sent them into the car to look after the Hindoo, and also to tell McGlory to come out and help prepare the aëroplane for loading.
"I don't know, pard," said McGlory, as he and Matt made their way hastily to the place where theComethad been left, "but I reckon the motor boys have got a little the best of this ruction that Dhondaram kicked up. Burton has recovered the stolen money, Carter has been fired, and Dhondaram is a prisoner. Luck's on our side after all, eh?"
"That's the way it looks," answered Matt.
A BIT OF A BACKSET.
The preparing of the aëroplane for loading was not a difficult matter. The small front planes were removed, and lashed between the two larger planes. This narrowed the machine sufficiently so that it could be loaded into the car especially prepared for it.
After the machine had been safely stowed, the two tired lads went to their section in the sleeper. Burton was there, sitting under a lamp and hastily running over the contents of the basket.
"I guess it's all here," said he, dumping the silver and bills into the receptacle and closing the lid. "Anyhow, I'm too much fagged to bother any more with the stuff to-night. It's about time we all turned in, don't you think?"
"I'm Ready's whole family, when it comes to that," yawned McGlory. "Talk about your strenuous days! I think this has been a harder one than that other day we put in at Lafayette, Indiana. What do you say, Matt?"
"We seem to have worked harder than we did then, and to have less to show for it," said Matt.
"Less to show for it!" repeated Burton. "I don't know what you mean by that, son. It isn't every day you save your flying machine from a mad elephant and wrestle with a cobra on theComet, in midair!"
"And it's not every day the Big Consolidated is held up, thieves captured, anddinerorecovered, all before we leave town," supplemented McGlory.
"It was exciting enough," said Matt, "but it all seems so useless."
"The hand of Ben Ali was behind it all," remarked Burton, pulling off his shoes. "That villain ought to be run down and put behind the bars for ninety-nine years. You'll not be safe a minute, Matt, until he's locked up."
"I guess," ventured the king of the motor boys, "that Ben Ali, after this lesson, will keep away from me."
"I wish I could think so," said Burton.
"What'll you do with Dhondaram?" inquired McGlory. "You can't send him to jail in any other town for an offense he committed in Jackson."
"Sending him to jail is the last thing I'm thinking of," was Burton's response. "What I want is to induce him to talk. He may give us a line on Ben Ali that will enable Matt to keep away from the wily old villain."
"Don't hang onto Dhondaram on my account," said Matt. "I've told Ben Ali what to expect if he ever comes near me again."
"That's you!" exulted McGlory. "All your scare-talk, Burton, goes clean over Matt's head."
The showman pulled off his coat and leaned back in his seat reflectively. He did not seem to have heard McGlory's observation.
"I've got a notion," began Burton, "that——" He paused.
"What's the notion?" urged the cowboy. "It ain't like you to hang fire, Burton."
"Well," pursued Burton, "it's this way: I've got an elephant on my hands that can't be handled by any white trainer in the show. Dhondaram can handle the brute to the queen's taste. What's the answer?"
"You don't mean to say," expostulated Matt, "that you're going to keep Dhondaram with the show just to take charge of Rajah?"
"It's either that or sell the elephant," declared Burton.
"Then, sufferin' cats!" cried McGlory, "sell the brute. You're more kinds of a bungler, Burton, than I know how to lay tongue to. Keep Dhondaram with the show,and he'll do something, before you're through with him, that will hurt."
"I'll sleep on it," muttered Burton. "I've only got four elephants, and I need Rajah."
"Schust a minid, oof you blease," came the voice of Matt's Dutch pard from the aisle of the car.
Matt, McGlory, and Burton turned around and saw not only Carl, but Ping as well.
"What is it, Carl?" asked Matt.
"I vant to know somet'ing," Carl went on, "und dot iss, was I innocend or guildy? Vat you say, Misder Purton?"
"Oh, splash!" exclaimed Burton, "that was settled a long time ago. Andy Carter, the ticket man, admitted that he and the Hindoo were the thieves."
"Den Modor Matt don'd haf to vork four veeks for nodding, schust for me?"
"Of course not."
"Dot's all I vanted to know, oxcept somet'ing else."
"Well, what?"
"Der Hintoo brisoner iss in der blace vere Ping shleeps. Ping vants to go to ped, und I am to haf der ubber bert'. Vat iss to be dit mit der Hintoo?"
"Roll him into the aisle and let him lie there," replied Burton. "Put a blanket under him, if you want to, and give him a pillow."
"T'anks," said Carl, and the boys started away.
"Wait, Carl," called Matt. "There's a little something I want to know. How are you and Ping getting along together?"
"Finer as silk," grinned Carl. "He likes me pedder der more vat he knows me, und it's der same mit me. Shinks iss hardt to ondershtand, but I'm schust gedding ondo Ping's curves. He made a misdake in me, und now he feels pedder aboudt it. How iss dot, bard?" finished Carl, turning to the Chinaman.
"Awri'," answered Ping, although not very enthusiastically.
"That's the talk!" cried Matt heartily.
Two hours later, the second section of the show train was loaded and speeding on its way. All was quiet in the sleeping car, save for the snores of the tired men who occupied the bunks.
Perhaps it was two o'clock in the morning when an uproar filled the sleeper. There were yells, a revolver shot, the slamming of a door, and then a measure of quiet.
Matt thrust his head out of his berth and saw McGlory, equally curious and excited, looking out from the berth overhead. All up and down each side of the car were other heads.
"What's the matter?" asked Matt.
Boss Burton, in his underclothes, was standing in the aisle, a smoking revolver in his hand.
"Confound the luck!" he sputtered. "The Hindoo has made a getaway. I happened to wake up and to think about him, and took a look along the aisle from my berth, just to make sure he was safe. I thought I was dreaming, or had the blind staggers, or something, when I saw him sitting up. His hands were free and he was taking the rope off his feet. I grabbed my revolver from under my pillow and rolled into the aisle. Dhondaram had started for the door. I blazed away, did nothing but smash a window, and the Hindoo jumped from the train."
"Are you going to stop and put back after him?" inquired Archie Le Bon.
"I guess I won't, although losing the fellow is a bit of a backset," observed Burton regretfully.
"The show can stand all the backsets of that kind that come its way, Burton," said Harris.
"What will we do for somebody to manage Rajah?"
"Oh, hang Rajah!" said another of the Le Bon brothers. "I hope the first section runs into the ditch and smashes the brute. He came within one of killin' Archie, back there in Jackson."
It was the general opinion, as the occupants of the various berths drew sleepily back into their beds, that it was a good thing Dhondaram escaped.
"Wonder just how much that bit of a backset means for us, pard?" McGlory inquired of the king of the motor boys before dropping back on his pillow.
"Nothing, I hope," was the response.
"We'll know for sure, I reckon, before we're many days older," muttered the cowboy as he straightened out in his bed and returned to his dreams of cobras and charging elephants.
THE END.
THE NEXT NUMBER (29) WILL CONTAIN
Motor Matt's Make-up;
OR,
PLAYING A NEW RÔLE.
High Jinks in the Side Show—The "Barker" Shows His Teeth—The Man from Washington—A Clue in Hindustanee—Something Wrong—A Blunder in the Right Direction—The House with the Green Shutters—The Pile of Soot—Matt Meets an Old Acquaintance—Rescue!—Bill Wily Repents—Matt Lays His Plans—Motor Car and Aëroplane—The Oak Opening Aëroplane Wins—Conclusion.
High Jinks in the Side Show—The "Barker" Shows His Teeth—The Man from Washington—A Clue in Hindustanee—Something Wrong—A Blunder in the Right Direction—The House with the Green Shutters—The Pile of Soot—Matt Meets an Old Acquaintance—Rescue!—Bill Wily Repents—Matt Lays His Plans—Motor Car and Aëroplane—The Oak Opening Aëroplane Wins—Conclusion.
NEW YORK, September 4, 1909.
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"And so your sister's going to spend the winter at Nassau, for her health, eh? Well, she might do worse, for it's very pleasant there, with its lovely climate, and pineapples, shells, sponges, and curiosities. Yes, I've been to the Bahama Islands. Didn't start for there, and didn't make any entry at the custom house, but I got there, all the same. It was a lively adventure, and no mistake."
It was Captain Joe who made this speech, one day, as we sat on a wooden pier, angling for fish, which, I may add, we didn't catch.
The captain, now that his active sea days were over, lived with his brother near-by, and was never so happy as when fishing with us boys, or spinning yarns to while away the time whenever the inconsiderate fish refused to bite.
"I reckon I may as well tell you about it," he went on, "since that steamboat has stirred up the mud till no fish can see the bait.
"I was eighteen years old then, and the doctors gave me just twelve months to live, for I was very delicate, and so, when we started, one raw November day, from Boston, for a voyage to Rio and back, I was as blue as an indigo bag.
"The wind was fierce and cold, and the sea was lumpy, and we tumbled and rolled about like the mischief for five or six days, when we struck finer weather, and I at once began to feel better.
"But a few days later the weather grew bad rapidly, so that by midnight it was blowing half a gale, with a tremendous sea on that made the good brigPolly Anntumble about as lively as a Scotchman dancing the Highland fling.
"It was a fearful storm, indeed, almost a regular hurricane, and lasted for two days before it gave any signs of blowing itself out.
"And then, when at last it began to subside, we found that we had sustained considerable damage, both our topmasts being gone, the mainmast sprung, and the rudder so twisted as to be of little service.
"We had taken no observation for sixty hours, and were rather uncertain as to our location, which did not add to our comfort by any means.
"It was well past midnight, and I had dropped off into a doze, when I was awakened by a tremendous shock that made everything tremble.
"As I sat upright in my berth, there was a second shock, lighter than the first, and then the brig began to pound and thump, with a grinding, crushing sound.
"In another moment the mate came running down into the cabin after something, with a scared look on his face, and cried out:
"'We're on the reefs, and the brig's going to pieces!' and then he rushed on deck again.
"I got up and tried to climb the ladder, but a dash of water came through the open hatch and washed me back.
"Somebody jammed the hatch shut, and I was a prisoner below.
"The next moment a big wave lifted the brig up and sent her higher up on the reefs, and she rested quietly with no more pounding or thumping.
"The captain came down after a while, and said we were ashore on the Bahama reefs, and as the ship was easy now, and there was no immediate danger, we could do nothing but wait for daylight.
"As dawn broke, I was on deck with the rest, the excitement of the occasion, or something else, having put new life into me, and I cared nothing for the sheets of spray and foam that, flying over the rails, drenched us all to the skin every minute.
"Before us, half a mile distant, was a low, white coast, covered with sand hills, and a few cocoa palms, their long, slender leaves thrashing about in the wind like a lot of enormous feather dusters.
"The sea about us was churned into a mass of foam as the incoming waves were broken in pieces on the coral reefs, whose sharp, jagged tops of honeycomb rock rose here and there above the surface like the brown teeth of some marine monster.
"Between the coral reefs and the shore there was a stretch of smoother water, in marked contrast with the tumbling sea outside.
"It was a perfect caldron of foaming water close about us, in which no boat could live a second, and so we waited as patiently as we could for the going down of the adjacent sea.
"Half an hour thereafter, to our great relief, we beheld a stanch little schooner rounding a point well inside the reefs, and making for us; and as she drew nearer we saw that her decks were full of men, white and black, clad in such a variety of costumes, with such diversity of loud colors, as at once suggested a piratical band of the seventeenth century.
"But appearances were deceptive, for instead of freebooters bent on plunder, the strangers were good Samaritans coming to our rescue—a lot of Bahamian wreckers—men ever ready to save life and property for a consideration.
"The captain of the little craft, which rejoiced in the highly appropriate name of theFearless, a sturdy, square-built man of fifty, with light hair and bluish eyes, and a salty air about him, balancing himself with the skill of an acrobat on the port rail, and making a trumpet of his hands, began a shouting conversation with us, in which he informed us that he wouldn't give a penny for our lives if we weren't ashore mighty soon, as the wind, backing to the northwest, would blow great guns again in a few hours, when our brig would probably go to pieces.
"As the result of this confab, the wreckers began to make preparations to get us off the brig, which they accomplished in a skillful and courageous manner, running a line from theFearlessto our vessel, over which we were hauled in turn, though we were sorely battered and drenched by the angry sea that leaped up furiously, as if loath to lose its prey.
"It was well they worked so rapidly, for we were scarcely ashore, and the schooner anchored behind a point, when the storm began to rage again with great fury, burying the old brig in mountains of foaming water.
"When at last the storm abated, it was found that the brig had broken in two, the stern part sinking in deep water, and the cargo being scattered for miles along the coast, some of it being picked up, but in a useless condition, so that the wreckers realized substantially nothing in the way of salvage.
"In a few days our company went in theFearlessto Green Turtle Cay village, where they eventually secured a passage home.
"As for myself, I refused to accompany them, having discovered a decided improvement in my health, which I naturally attributed to the climate, which was perfection itself, with a clear, bright sky, soft, genial breezes, and a pure, dry atmosphere that seemed to put new life into me with every breath.
"So I remained to complete the cure so auspiciously begun, lodging with a planter named Bethel, whom, to pay my board, I helped with the lighter work in his pineapple fields by day, giving his children a bit of schooling by night, to the mutual satisfaction, I am certain, of all concerned.
"The half of the hulk of thePolly Annstill clung to the great reefs where she had struck, at low tide being nearly out of water; and every day I looked at it, for it was in plain view from our veranda, with feelings of mingled pity and friendship—for it somehow always suggested to my mind my far-away home and the dear ones there.
"Ever since the wreck, the weather had been perfect—such charming days and nights as can be found only in the Bahamas following each other uninterruptedly, until, as Christmas approached, I conceived the idea that it would be nice to have our holiday luncheon on the deck of the hulk, and in this scheme all acquiesced, thinking it would be novel and delightful.
"But the twenty-third of December ushered in a gale that swept with fury along the coast.
"For twenty-four hours the elements held high carnival, and then, on Christmas Eve, there came a great lull, and the fierce storm, veering to the southward, died away as suddenly as it had arisen, giving us hope that our original plan might yet be carried out.
"We were up early on Christmas morning, and looking seaward, were astonished beyond measure at what we saw.
"The hulk of thePolly Annhad been loosened from the clutch of the coral reef and carried bodily over the ledge by the great waves—had been hurled upon the low inside beach, a huge broken mass, with its stern buried deep in the wet sand, its heavy timbers splintered to pieces, and its rusty iron bolts twisted like corkscrews.
"We rushed to the beach—now as hard and smooth as a floor—and saw, scattered about near the nose of thePolly Ann, some circular pieces, which we at first took to be brownish-colored shells, but which we soon discovered were nothing of the kind.
"I picked up a piece and found it to be nearly two inches broad, perfectly flat and smooth, the edge worn almost sharp, with some inscription on one side and figures on the other, which we could scarcely trace, so black and discolored was the entire surface.
"I ran to a bit of honeycomb rock and rubbed the piece briskly over it, until presently the tarnish began to come off, and I shouted to Bethel that it was a piece of silver.
"'My stars!' he cried out, in great excitement, 'if it's not an old Spanish dollar.'
"And then he danced about like mad for a minute.
"Next we fell to work picking up all we could find till both our hats were nearly full of the pieces.
"'Where in the world did they come from?' asked Bethel, after we had gathered in the last coin. 'I didn't suppose your old brig carried such a cargo, did you?'
"'I never thought so, surely,' said I; 'nor do I believe she did.'
"'Where else could these coins have come from?' asked Bethel.
"'I don't know,' said I. 'But as thePolly Annis only ten years old, and these coins are near two hundred, if they are a day, why, it doesn't stand to reason they were in the brig. However, we will soon see. If they came out of her, there's more inside. Come, we will look.'
"We crept inside the old hull and examined carefully among her shattered timbers and twisted bolts, and spent two hours in prying up the planks inside the bow and along the bottom, but at last, tired and breathless, gave it up as a bad job, and came out as empty-handed as we went in.
"'I told you so,' said I. 'They never sailed the sea in thePolly Ann.'
"We spent the afternoon in counting our coins, finding we had between three and four hundred of them, and we grew quite hilarious over our Christmas gift, as we styled it, and speculated in vain as to where the coins could have come from.
"The next morning Bethel said to me:
"'I've been thinking half the night about those coins, and I remember my father used to tell of a Spanish vessel that went ashore somewhere along here when he was a boy, and was gradually washed to pieces; and, do you know, I've an idea these pieces have been cast up by the sea from the old wreck. It's curious, however, that we never found any of them till this brig came plowing up the beach with her nose.'
"While we were talking, two of the children came in with several of the pieces, which they had found at the water's edge, exactly like those we had picked up the day before.
"'I tell you, sir,' cried Bethel excitedly, 'my guess was right. I believe that old Spaniard lies buried in the sand right where thePolly Annhas stuck her bow in the beach. Man alive, there may be millions down there!'
"We rushed to the beach, and with shovels began to dig up the sand vigorously all about the wreck.
"Every now and then we came across another coin, which encouraged us tremendously, and we worked until we had dug a hole big enough to hold an ox cart.
"But no more coins appeared, and we were getting discouraged, when Bethel struck a heavy timber that ran under the forefoot of the brig, and which did not belong to thePolly Ann.
"We cleared away the sand alongside this timber, and there lay a box, made of teak wood, split open from end to end, and jammed hard and fast between the decaying timber and the forefoot of the brig.
"The splinters from the box were fresh and clean, showing that it had been crushed to pieces by the stem of the brig when she was driven into the beach by the storm.
"And then we dug out the sand from under the debris of the teak box, and down came a shower of black silver pieces, exactly similar to the others, which we carefully and eagerly secured and piled up on the dry beach near by.
"There was no longer any mystery as to where the coins came from, for we found the rotten timbers of the old Spanish ship underlying the sand in every direction, none being less than ten feet from the surface.
"For days we pursued our hunt for treasure, tunneling all about, but except those in the teak box not another piece did we find, and at last we desisted, satisfied that we had exhausted the deposit.
"We kept the thing a secret, lest the authorities, taking advantage of some old and unjust law, might claim a portion of our treasure trove; and as there were no near neighbors, and as a brisk gale, which blew later on, filled up our excavations in the sand, this was an easy thing to do.
"We divided our find, and my portion was nearly five thousand dollars, which I brought with me to the United States late in the ensuing summer, and disposed of it to a broker in Boston, who was very curious to learn where I got it.
"But he will never know, unless he learns it from this story.
"My Christmas gift was most acceptable, as you can readily believe; out what I valued far more was the fact that myeight months' residence in the lovely climate of the Bahamas made me a well man, and my lungs ever since have been as stout as a blacksmith's bellows.
"It's all right, my boy. Tell your sister she'll have a nice time at Nassau, and if she doesn't come back in the spring as good as new, then Captain Joe'll never prophesy again as long as he lives.
"She'll not find any Spanish dollars, maybe, but there's things worth more—and one is good health."