CHAPTER XX.
AN UNPLEASANT TALK.
"What shall I do now?"
Dick asked himself the question several times. Here he was up to the knees in the bog and unable to stir either foot an inch forward or backward.
In vain he caught at the moss around him. It came up in his hands, revealing only more muck, black, slippery and pasty.
"If I stay here much longer I'll be planted for good," he groaned. "Oh, I must get out somehow!"
He struggled again and pulled with might and main upon one foot. But as that member came up, the other went down just so much deeper, and in new alarm he set down both feet again, to find himself now almost up to his waist.
His struggles had disturbed several swamp crabs—dirty and ugly looking creatures, peculiar to Porto Rico and other West India Islands. They crawled all around him, hissing viciously and glaring at him with their hard, beady eyes. When he shouted at them, however, they scuttled off as fast as their long legs permitted.
The time that followed was an age to Dick, who could not think of a thing to do. But he did think of something else—snakes—and wondered if any were at hand.
"If they come this way I'll be a goner!" he shuddered. Then he raised his voice and called out, not once, but again and again, until his throat grew husky from his exertions.
At last he heard an answering shout and his heart gave a bound of joy. But then it sank almost as much as before, as he saw Joseph Farvel approaching, accompanied by one of his black guides.
"Who calls?" cried Farvel, and then caught sight of him. "You!"
"Yes, Farvel. Please help me out of this?"
"How did you get into such a box?"
"I tried to pass over the moss, not dreaming of what was underneath. Will you help me?"
"Where are your companions?"
"I left them at the camp where you first saw us?"
"I don't mean the boys. I mean Robert Menden and those who went off with him."
"I don't know where they are."
"Where did they go yesterday afternoon?"
"I don't know."
Joseph Farvel's face darkened into that ugly look which Dick had before noticed.
"I want a true answer, boy!"
"I have told you the truth."
"You know as well as I what brought Robert Menden to this island and this locality."
"Well?"
"I want to know just where he went yester* day afternoon."
"I don't know. I wasn't with him, and I haven't seen him since yesterday morning."
"He didn't return to your camp?"
"I can't say that either. I left my friends, wandered off, and got lost in these woods, and I've been here all night, although not in this swamp."
"Humph!" Farvel mused for a moment and sat down on a fallen tree. "Can you tell me how Menden got to Porto Rico?"
"Aren't you going to help me out?"
"I will—if you'll answer my questions."
"He was picked up out of the ocean by some folks on a yacht, and those folks brought him to San Juan."
"Do you know what he had to say for himself when he was picked up?"
"He thinks he was shoved overboard from the steamship."
At this Joseph Farvel started, but as quickly recovered, and gave a hollow, unnatural laugh.
"Robert Menden always was fall of queer ideas. He was sick, and even the captain of the steamship thought he acted queerly. You know his story, but you don't know mine. What both of us are after here belongs to me."
"I guess it will belong to the first man who finds it."
Joseph Farvel grated his teeth. "It belongs to me—and I will have it. Now tell me where Menden is at this moment."
"I haven't the least idea."
"You want me to rescue you, don't you?"
"Would you be inhuman enough to leave me to such a fate as this?" demanded Dick, in horror.
"You got yourself in this box—I had nothing to do with it. How can you expect me to help you if you are not willing to help me?"
"I can do nothing for you, Joseph Farvel. But I would not leave a dog in such a helpless situation as this."
"I would—if the dog stood ready to do me an injury—and that is what you are ready to do, in helping Robert Menden."
So speaking, Farvel withdrew to a distance and consulted in a low tone with the Oarib who accompanied him.
The negro nodded, and then both hurried away through the wood at the top of their speed, leaving Dick once more alone.
If the youth had been downcast before he was doubly so now. He was up to his armpits in the swamp, and such a thing as getting out alone was entirely out of the question.
But now something welcome broke upon his ears. From afar came the bark of a dog. It was Dash, who had been sent to follow up his trail; and a few minutes later the faithful animal came into appearance from the direction of the wood where the boy had spent the night.
"Dash! Good dog!" cried Dick, and Dash came bounding toward him. Luckily the dog was not so heavy but that the moss would support him, although he had to move around with care.
"Are you alone, Dash?" asked Dick, and the dog set up a lone howl, at the same time pointing his nose into the air.
"Bring Bob, Dash! Bob or Leander, Dash. Bob! Leander! Run, Dash, go!" And understanding perfectly, the intelligent canine started off at a loping gait across the valley and over to the camp by the river.
To Dick it seemed that Dash would never come back. The sun mounted higher and higher in the sky until it poured directly down upon the youth. He was tremendously thirsty and would have given almost anything for a drink of water.
He had sunk lower, so now only his head was above the top of the swamp. The water was beginning to collect about him, and he felt that before sunset he must drown, if he were not rescued. Oh, how bitterly he regretted having attempted to cross the quagmire.
What was that? Dash's bark again, and he set up a faint shout. Then he listened and heard the voices of Bob and old Jacob, and once more his hopes revived as by a shock.
"This way, Bob! This way, Jacob! Hurry up!" he called, and then his friends came into view.
"Oh, Dick, what a situation!" ejaculated Bob. "Can't you help yourself?"
"Not a bit."
"We must be a-doin' somethin' fer him, an' mighty quick, too," burst out old Jacob. "It's a lucky thing I've got this rope with me," and he pointed to a long coil suspended over his shoulder.
How to rescue Dick from his unpleasant situation was a problem; but the old sailor finally solved it by climbing a large tree which overlooked the swamp close to where Dick was a prisoner. Crawling far out on a stout branch, he threw one end of his rope to the unfortunate boy.
Dick caught the rope with difficulty.
"Can ye tie it under yer arms?" asked old Jacob.
"I'll try," was the reply.
It was a difficult undertaking, and by the time it was accomplished the youth was up to his chin in the dirty water which was collecting in the quagmire.
"All ready!" he shouted feebly.
At once old Jacob began to pull away. "Wish I had a single tackle," he panted. "A straight haul o' this sort ain't no easy job."
Bob had climbed into the tree to help him, yet he could do but little, old Jacob being afraid that the limb would break down with their combined weights, added to the strain from the rope, which was now drawn as tight as a washline.
"Perhaps it will break," shouted Dick, warningly; but the rope had been selected with great care, and it held well. A long pull, and Dick began to leave the quagmire, the rope pressing against him as if to cut him in two.
"Hurrah! he's coming!" shouted Bob, presently, and he was right. With a sudden sucking sound, Dick left the muck and water behind, and then, held up by the rope, stepped quickly to a place of safety; and the rescue had been accomplished.