CHAPTER XXV.
THE FIGHT ON THE ISLAND.
Silently as cats the plotters approached the pile of treasure sacks when they judged that the time was ripe for their raid on the valuables. Constantio, who was a coward at heart, had taken his station by the boat so as to be the furthest away from danger should the boys be aroused.
With a beating heart he waited the appearance of the first heavy bag of treasure. At last the engineer and one of the sailors came in sight dragging it over the top of a sand dune.
"Phew, that's heavy," exclaimed the sailor, who was our red-headed friend, Wells, setting the bag down with a sigh. "How far is it from the camp to this boat, Mister Concertina?"
"Not more than a few hundred yards," replied Constantio; "I don't see what a big strapping fellow like you is making so much fuss over packing a fortune that little distance."
"It's a wonder you wouldn't tackle the job yourself," said Wells indignantly, as he and the engineer heaved the sack into the boat. "I guess you are scared though. I always knew that Spaniards were cowards."
Infuriated as much by the truth of the insult as stung by the stigma it conveyed, Constantio, pale with fury, sprang at the sailor with his knife drawn. He sprang back again with the same agility and crouched on his haunches like a tiger-cat, as the sailor whipped out a revolver and leveled it at him.
"Now you be careful what you are doing, Concertina," he said, "or I'll have to send you where you won't make no more trouble."
As he spoke there came a loud report from the direction of the camp.
It was followed by another and another.
"They have discovered us!" cried Constantio, seizing hold of the boat and trying to drag it off.
At the same instant the two sailors, who had been left behind to bring a second sack of the treasure, appeared, racing over the top of the sand dune.
"They heard us as we were moving the sack," cried one of them; "something jangled, I guess, and—"
"They awakened and fired at us,—see here," he held up a bleeding arm, "broke my elbow I guess."
"Come on," shouted Wells, "we are playing for too big a stake to let two boys and an old man beat us off. Who is for coming back and driving them off?"
Constantio turned white, fighting was not in his line, but the sailor stepped to his side and whispered something, at the same time pressing his revolver to the Spaniard's head, and the wretch, trembling in every limb, followed the others back. But the attacking party was doomed not to get any more treasure that night. As they approached the camp Frank called out in a clear voice:
"We don't want to do you any harm, but don't come any closer or we shall fire."
For reply Wells let fly a bullet at the boy's head, which, if the sailor had not been an indifferent shot, would have inflicted a serious wound. As it was, it flew wide and went whistling out to sea.
Before Frank could check him, old Ben in a furious rage stood up and fired straight at Wells. He shattered the man's wrist and with a howl of pain he dropped his revolver.
"Come on, men," shouted Constantio, as he saw the mainstay of the attackers rendered helpless; "we've got enough loot in that one sack to secure us all a good sum when we get ashore. Come on—I'm for the boat!"
So saying he turned and ran at top speed for the boat, the others after him. The shore gained, they leaped to the sides of the craft, having first thrown in the wounded sailor Wells, and then shoved the boat off till they were waist-deep in water.
The boys and Ben reached the spot just as they were clambering in and getting out the oars.
"Shall I tell 'em to come back, or have a hole shot in their boat?" asked Ben.
"No," decided Frank, "let them go. We are cheaply rid of the rascals at the cost of only one sack of valuables."
The men fell to the oars with a will, and were soon out of sight in the darkness. Nothing more was ever heard of them by the boys, but as some time ago a sailor was arrested on the Bowery trying to pawn a candlestick of solid gold marked Buena Ventura, it is reasonable to suppose the men eventually got ashore. The prisoner gave the name of Jones, but as he had red hair it is not unreasonable to assume that he was none other than Wells. As nobody claimed the candlestick and the police had received no word of such an article being stolen, it was given back to the man and he was released.