THE YOUNG VOLCANOEXPLORERSCHAPTER IINTRODUCING THE BOYS
THE YOUNG VOLCANOEXPLORERS
“Herecomes the mail boy, Darry. Now for letters and newspapers from home. There ought to be plenty of letters for all of us.”
“Don’t be too sure Frank. The mails in Venezuela are mighty slow, especially now when there is another revolution on.”
“Oh, I don’t believe this one-horse revolution will have anything to do with the mails,” put in a third boy, as he joined his chums, who were lounging in the hallway of a spacious hotel in Caracas, the capital city of Venezuela. “They have them too often, you know.”
“Hush, don’t call it a one-horse revolution, Beans,” returned Darry Crane, in a warning voice. “The people who live here think it’s just as importantas any revolution that ever was—and it probably is, to them.”
“There goes the professor for letters now!” burst out Frank Newton. “Oh, I do hope he gets lots of them!” Frank was always more anxious for letters from home than anyone else. “Yes, here he comes with a handful, and an armful of papers in the bargain.”
The coming of the mail always attracted a crowd of patrons of the hotel, and soon the boys found themselves surrounded by those anxious to get their letters and papers. Looking, they saw the gentleman who had their mail wave his hand to them and disappear in the direction of the hotel courtyard and they speedily followed.
“What have you for me, Professor?” was the question asked by one and all, and now two more boys hurried up, making five in all who waited eagerly for news from home.
It was an interesting group, and while the mail matter is being distributed, we will take the opportunity of introducing each individual to the reader.
The oldest boy present was Mark Robertson. He was a lad of seventeen, and was the son of a dry goods importer. His father owned an interest inseveral mills in England and Scotland and made semi-yearly trips across the Atlantic, and the family were well-to-do.
When at home Mark lived on Madison Avenue in New York city, and directly opposite to him lived Frank Newton, another of the boys of the group. Although Frank was a year younger than Mark, the two were warm chums. Frank’s father was a banker, and if he was not a millionaire he was certainly well provided for financially.
The liveliest boy in the crowd was Dartworth Crane, always called Darry for short. He was but fifteen, the son of a rich Chicago cattle dealer, and to him life was one long, sunshiny holiday. It was very hard for Darry to take anything seriously, and his good nature was as spontaneous as it was catching.
“Darry would make a cow laugh,” said Frank, more than once, and the others agreed with him. As said before, Mark was Frank’s closest chum, but Darry was no mean second.
The fourth lad of the group was a tall, well-built individual of sixteen, with a high forehead and a thick mass of curly hair. This was Samuel Winthrop, generally called “Beans,” because he had been bornand brought up in Boston. Sam was the son of a well-to-do widow of the Back Bay district. He was a studious, observant young fellow, seldom, however, given to “airing his knowledge,” and he and Mark were as friendly as were Frank and Darry.
The fifth youth in the crowd was a tall, lank individual of about Mark’s age, with a white freckled face and reddish hair. His name was Jacob Hockley, and he was the son of a millionaire lumber dealer of Pennsylvania. His manner was varied, at times exceedingly “bossy,” as the others termed it, and then again exceedingly sour and morose. The latter mood had won for him the nickname of “Glummy” or “Jake the Glum,” and although he objected strenuously to being called such a name, yet it clung to him in spite of everything. Hockley had plenty of money and spent it freely, but even this failed to make him any close friendships.
“Glummy thinks money is everything,” said Mark in speaking of the matter one day. “But sooner or later he is bound to learn that there are some things that even money can’t buy.” And Mark was right. True friendship is never a matter of dollars and cents.
For several years all these boys had attendeda boarding academy located among the hills of New Hampshire. Lakeview Academy, as it was called, was presided over by Professor Amos Strong, a kindly and well educated gentleman, who had in years gone by been a great traveler and hunter. Professor Strong had often told the lads about his hunting expeditions in various parts of the globe, and through these stories a plan had originated to visit Central and South America, the expedition to be under the personal supervision of the professor himself.
At first Professor Strong could not see his way clear to leaving the academy, but a fire came and destroyed the place, and at the same time the professor’s brother, also a teacher, left the faculty of Harvard. It was then arranged that the school building should be rebuilt under the directions of the brother, who was afterward to assume control of the institution. This would give Professor Strong the liberty he desired and which he, in secret, greatly craved. For many years a wanderer on the face of the earth, binding himself down to steady teaching had proved rather irksome to him.
After a good deal of discussion it was decided that the party of six should first visit Venezuela,and in the first volume of this series, entitled “Lost on the Orinoco,” I related the particulars of the journey from New York to La Guayra, the nearest seaport, and told of the sight-seeing and adventures while visiting Caracas, the capital, Macuto, the fashionable summer resort, the great Gulf of Maracaibo, and other points of interest, including cocoa and coffee plantations and gold and silver mines, and also a never-to-be-forgotten journey up that immense river, the Orinoco, the second largest stream in South America.
The boys had had adventures in plenty, and becoming lost on the Orinoco had almost proved a serious happening for Mark and Frank, who had wandered away in a jungle that seemed to have no end. All of the party had met more than one wild animal, and a squall on Lake Maracaibo had come close to sending them all to the bottom.
It was not to be expected that four such whole-souled lads as Mark, Frank, Darry and Sam could get along smoothly with such an over-bearing and peculiar youth as Jake Hockley. They were sorry that the bully was along, and it was not long before there was a bitter quarrel and some of the boys came to blows with Hockley. This was stopped by ProfessorStrong, who said they must do better in the future.
With no special friend in the party, and with a strong desire to be “sporty,” and to do things which were not permitted by the professor, Hockley struck up an acquaintance with one Dan Market, a man from Baltimore, whose reputation was none of the best. This Markel succeeded in getting all of Hockley’s money away from him, and it was only through a discovery made by Mark and Frank that Markel was arrested and the money was recovered. But Markel had escaped, and what had become of him nobody knew. Getting back his money and also a watch which had been taken, had made Hockley friendly to Frank and Mark for the time being, and the bully was also friendly to Sam and Darry, for they had saved him from being crushed to death by a boa constrictor, having shot and killed the hideous reptile just in the nick of time.
It had been the intention of Professor Strong to take the boys from Venezuela to Brazil, but while the party was resting at a mining town called Castroville, there came in a report that the tropical fevers were raging in the latter republic, and that it was likely Venezuela, Brazil, Colombia, and some othercountries would soon be mixed up in revolutions and wars, and it was then decided by a general vote that they should move northward again and visit the West Indies, taking in Jamaica, Cuba, Porto Rico, and other important islands.
“That will just suit me,” said Mark, when this decision was reached. “I want to see where the battles of the Spanish-American War were fought and also what sort of a place Porto Rico, our new possession, is.”
“And I want to get out of a country that grows boa constrictors,” came from Hockley. “Ugh, they’re awful. Professor, are there such snakes in the West Indies?”
“I never heard of any, Jacob. But they have poisonous reptiles, such as are to be found in all tropical climates.”
“Well, I won’t care so much for them, if they aren’t six or seven yards long,” grumbled the tall youth.
“That’s Glummy all over,” whispered Frank to Darry. “Every time he speaks of that constrictor he tacks a yard or two on to the length.”
“Never mind—it’s only a snake story, you know,” returned light-hearted Darry. “They don’t count,for nobody believes them. We’ll never get credit for killing anything more than a snake as long as your arm.”
The journey from Castroville to Caracas overland had been uneventful. They had stopped at numerous plantations and small towns on the way, and they had seen sheep and wild horses without number. They had also done considerable hunting, and each of the boys could now boast of being a creditable shot. If there was an exception it was Hockley, who, in spite of all the instructions given him by the professor, would take little pains in the handling of his gun.
On arriving at Caracas they put up at the same hotel which had been their stopping place on first visiting the capital. All had long before sent letters home speaking of their change of plans, and they were now anxious to ascertain how their parents would view the matter, even though, on leaving home, everything had been left to Professor Strong personally, he being fully competent to judge of what was best for all.