FOOTNOTE:

[A] This account of Judson is the description of a little West Florida town as it actually has been, and is to-day. Nineteen of its scanty population have died by a fierce war. The author has only changed the first letter of the town's real name.

CHAPTER XXIX.
THE FEUD.

"Thar ain't no call to keep watch at the loopholes," said their host as the alarmed lads' glances kept wandering towards the dark openings. "The dogs will tell we-alls if anyone tries to come near the cabin." He leaned back in his chair in silence for a few minutes gazing into the heart of the fire whose flickering rays lit up his bronzed, thoughtful, kindly face.

"Hit all began years ago when I warn't but a little bit of a shaver," he began, quietly. "Judson was a right-prosperous, happy, contented, little place, then. Thar was mighty nigh a hundred people living in the town, an' in the woods nigh about hyar. Each family had hit's own little cabin an' farm an' raised all hit's own living of meat, corn, taters, an' sugar cane, an' each family had hit's patch of cotton with which they bought what things they needed that they didn't raise themselves. We had a right tidy little schoolhouse. I went to hit two terms when I was a little shaver," he said with evident pride, "an' I learned how to read an' write pretty well—the reading's been a heap of company to me during the years since then. Each family had a plenty to eat an' wear, an' thar warn't none that you could call real poor people like I hearn tell you-alls have in the North. We used to have dances and barbecues, an' picnics an' a right sociable time. The town was started by two families, the Turners an' the Wrights—I'm a Turner,—an' all the people about was kin to one or the other family, which made everybody friendly and sociable with each other. Hit was jis' a little Eden on earth, this place, 'till the serpent came twisting an' crawlin' in. The devil must have sho' had a hand in making some of the men folks believe that the Good Lord intended the honest corn they raised for anything but food for man an' beast. Yes, I reckon, hit sho' must have been ole Satan that made a few of the Turners an' Wrights get together an' start a little whiskey still over thar in the woods yonder. The womin folks was again hit from the start, as, bless their hearts, they've always been again the cursed stuff. Hit was Christmas week that the still was started goin', an' Christmas Eve the ones running hit gave a big barbecue at the still to celebrate it. Most everyone went, as they always did to doin's in the neighborhood. Even my daddy an' two brothers, Ben an' Abe, went to see the fun as they called hit, but mammy she was a good, religious woman, she staid at home an' kept me with her. She would have liked to keep the other boys with her too, but they had grown out of her control as boys sometimes do." His bronzed face grew sadly thoughtful, as he continued, "I recollect, I cried because I couldn't go too, but mother sang to me an' tole me stories—mother was a powerful hand at telling the kind of stories boys like an' I soon quit cryin' an' went to sleep quiet an' happy with mother singing to me. Hit was the last time I ever heard mammy sing. I reckon hit was 'bout midnight when a noise woke me up. The door had been flung open—hit was never locked in them days—an' father an' Abe came rushin' in. Father's face was white as a sheet an' I'll never forget the look on mammy's face. Hit seemed as if she knowed without a word from daddy what had happened. Thar was a curious tremble in her voice as she asked, 'Whar's Ben?' At the sound of her voice father broke down an' sobbed like a child. 'He's dead,' he cried. 'They've killed my boy Ben. Those Wrights have killed my boy Ben.'"

The man paused as the recollection of that terrible scene crowded his mind, while the two lads looked at each other with sympathetic horror.

"No one seemed to know just how the trouble started," went on their host, quietly. "All hands had taken a little too much liquor, there had been a few hot words, a blow, an' Ben had keeled over with a knife in his side. Then the fightin' started between the kin of both families, an' daddy an' Abe had run home to git their guns. Sore at heart as mammy was, she begged 'em not to shed no more blood but to leave it to the cotes, for mammy, as I have said, was a religious woman. But both Wrights and Turners came first from the mountains of Kentucky whar man don't go to law again' man but settles his quarrels with his rifle, An' so the blood-feud began. Thar was more than Ben killed that night,—Wrights as well as Turners. When all had sobered up from the liquor thar came a kind of lull or truce, but war always bruk out again when either families got to drinkin'. They got Abe the followin' year, but not 'fore he had shot a couple of Wrights. Hit was three years afore they got father. Mother, she pined away an' died soon after they got him. I think she was kinder glad to go, such things are wearin' on a woman. An' so the killin's been goin' on ever since by spells when the liquor gets to flowin'. I am the only Turner alive, now, though thar's a few of my kin still scattered around hyar. I've been shot at a powerful lot of times, but, I reckon, I've been lucky. Then too, they ain't none of them hunted me so powerful hard, for I ain't took no part in any of the killin's. I've shot a couple of times to scare them away but not to kill. My own kin 'lows that I'm poor-spirited, but somehow or other, I can't forget the look on mammy's face the night Ben was killed. I don't want to be the cause of puttin' no such look on any woman's face. I've knowed all these years though that my time must come sooner or later. I heard to-day that the Wrights have got in a lot of liquor from Tarpon Springs an' they are sayin' that the last Turner has got to be wiped out of Judson. So, I got me in a store of water an' grub an' fixed to lay low for awhile. I may be able to hold out until their liquor is gone an' the danger is past, but I reckon hit doan' make so powerful much of difference. They air plum' sho' to get me sooner or later. Wall, that's the story, young fellows, hit's been a right smart relief to have someone sympathetic to tell hit to. Don't you worry none though. As soon as comes mornin' I'll hist a flag of truce an' arrange to have you fellows let out peaceful. You can take my boat an' go after your captain an' that little nigger, but I sho' advise you not to stop hyar on youah way back. Keep right on to Tarpon Springs. Some of my kin folks kin bring the sloop back from thar."

"You are very good," Charley exclaimed. "But tell me why you have never left this awful place. There are hundreds of places where you could have made as good a living and been free from dread and worry."

"Mammy's grave is out thar among them pines," said the man, simply, "an' daddy's, an' Ben's, an' Abe's, then, atter all, this place is home, no other place could be that."

"I see," said Charley, much abashed.

"I am proud to have met you, Mr. Turner," declared Walter, warmly. "I think you are a noble man."

"No? I sho' reckon you is mistaken," said the man in surprise. "Me noble? I reckon not. My own kin 'lows I'm mighty poor-spirited 'cause I won't take no hand in the killin'."

"I don't care a cent what your kin says," began Walter, hotly, but he was interrupted by the crack of a rifle, the whistle of a bullet, and the howl of a dog outside.

His host winced as if the bullet had struck his own body. "They've killed Bet," he cried. "Bet, what I raised from a little bit of puppy. They hadn't ought to go an' shoot a poor defenceless, dumb animal, hit ain't right. My God, be they goin' to kill all my poor faithful dawgs," he cried, as another shot rang out followed by another pitiless howl.

Rifle shot followed rifle shot while the man stood trembling with eyes flashing as he listened to the whining of the animals outside. At last, heedless of the bullets pattering against the logs, he flung the door wide open and called to the hounds. They came crowding in, a whining, mangy, ill-looking pack, but disreputable as they were, they had been the man's only friends through his lonely years and the two lads respected him for his act.

As soon as he had bolted the door again, he rummaged in a corner and brought out three rifles. He handed one to each of the boys. "I reckon, we'll have to watch at the loopholes now the dawgs air inside," he said quietly. "You-alls can take the ones at the ends, I'll tend to the sides. Be right careful 'bout standin' in front of 'em, a bullet might pass through. An' don't shoot to kill if you can help it."

"An' his kin people call that man poor-spirited," whispered Walter in wonder to his chum as they took up their positions.

CHAPTER XXX.
BESIEGED.

The boys had little opportunity for conversation in their new rôle as guards, being separated from each other by the length of the cabin. Strange as was the position in which they found themselves, they felt but little fear. The massive logs of which the cabin was constructed bid defiance to the entry of a bullet, and neither of them could believe that the affair would amount to more than a few shots being fired at the building while the attacking party was under the influence of the liquor they had drank. They believed that with the coming of day the feudalists would disband and retire to their homes, while they would be free to return to the rescue of their friends on the island. Nevertheless, they were not going to take any chances in the duties as sentinels. They stood well to one side of their loopholes and peeped out at the little clearing plainly visible in the bright moonlight.

"I reckon they can't see to shot through the loopholes, but you-alls want to keep youah bodies out of line with them," cautioned Mr. Turner. "Hit mought be that a stray bullet would pass through one of them. An' don't either of you young fellows fire 'less you jes' have to. You doan't want to get mixed up in this hyar quarrel. If yu' jis' naturally have to shoot, aim low an' give it to 'em in the laigs."

"There seems to be several of them gathering together at the edge of the woods," called Charley anxiously. "Here they come straight for the house!"

His host darted to his side. "They've got a long pole an' air aiming to batter down the door," he announced. "Keep back, boys, an' let me do the talking an' shootin', if thar's got to be any."

But the boys crowded close to his side, eager to view the coming attack.

There were about a dozen men in the approaching party and they advanced at a rapid trot, bearing between them a huge pine log.

"Halt whar you air," commanded Turner when they had approached to within sixty feet of the house. "If you-alls come any closer meanin' trouble, someone is goin' to get hurt."

There were enough of timid spirits in the party to cause a halt in the advance.

"We're goin' to get youah hide this time, Bill Turner," shouted the foremost of the gang, a big, heavily-whiskered man. "Hit's a disgrace on us Wrights to have one of youah name livin' still in this settlement. You're goin' to be done for this time."

"Now, I ain't done nothin' to you-alls in all these years," said Turner quietly and argumentatively. "You ain't got no cause to come 'round hectoring me."

"More shame for you," shouted the big man. "We're goin' to do you, first, 'cause you're a Turner, second, 'cause you've been too poor-spirited all these years to put up a man's fight."

"Pears lak hit needs a powerful lot of yu to do fo' one, lone, mean-spirited critter," said Turner, mildly.

The big man stamped his foot with rage. "Hit don't take none but me," he roared. "Yu come out hyar an' we'll have it out, man to man."

"I ain't a-doubting you're courage, Jim Wright," returned the other, slowly, "but I ain't aimin' to hurt no man 'less I have to. Besides, if I did get the best of yu, all the rest of youah gang would come down on me. Jes' keep away from my cabin, that's all I've got to say."

"Come on, boys," roared the leader. "He's too mean-spirited to hurt a fly. He can't shoot all of us, anyway."

There was some hesitation, but his fellows, evidently, believed that the man inside would not fire. Under the urging of their leader they picked up the log and started on a run for the door.

But they quickly discovered their mistake. From the loophole shot out quick jets of flame as the man inside worked the lever of his Winchester. The log dropped unheeded to the ground as its bearers broke for the cover of the woods. Some were not able to run but limped away groaning with pain. After the fleeing ones strode the big leader, cursing them for cowards and imploring them to return to the assault.

"I don't reckon I've hurt any one of them very much," Turner remarked, as he slipped more shells into his rifle. "I jes' aimed for their laigs."

"Thank God, it has all ended without loss of life," Charley said earnestly, but his host shook his head.

"Hit ain't ended, hit's jes' begun, Jim Wright ain't one to be scart out by a little lead. He don't know what fear is. If he can't get none of 'em to come back with him, he'll come back alone. I wish you young fellows were safe outer hyar, but it won't do for you to try to leave now. Crazy drunk, like them fellows is, hit wouldn't be safe for you. Maybe by morning they'll be sobered up enough to listen to reason."

In spite of his words, the boys were hopeful that the night would pass off without further trouble, but they were soon undeceived. Half an hour had not passed when the big leader emerged from the woods followed by a half a dozen of his fellow feudalists.

His followers halted by the fallen log but he advanced boldly direct for the loophole.

"Keep away, for Gawd's sake, keep away, Jim," Turner implored. "I don't want to have to shoot you."

"Hit's you or me this time!" shouted the other, "The sun don't rise on no living Turner in this town."

"Keep back," warned Turner, thrusting his rifle through the loophole, but even in his desperate situation, the boys, crowded close beside him, and could see that he aimed only at the legs of the advancing man.

Ruffian though he was, the other was not without brute courage. He never paused in his advance. "Shoot," he shouted as he whipped out a pistol, "Shoot, that's what I want yu to do."

The two reports came almost together, but the pistol shot was a fraction of a second ahead of the other. Like a fire-swept weed Turner crumpled to the floor, his rifle exploding as he fell.

The big man clapped one hand to his side and fell to the ground.

With the report of his rifle, his followers had grabbed up the log and rushed for the door, but Charley had been quick to see the danger. Snatching up the rifle from the fallen man, he fired at the moving legs as fast as he could work the lever. The whistling lead was more than the assaulters could stand. Three dropped their hold on the log and limped hurriedly for cover while their fellows, deprived of their aid, could no longer sustain the heavy timber, which sank again to the ground while they hastened after their wounded companions.

The boys watched them in silence until they entered the woods then Charley set down the rifle.

"I don't think they will be back right away again," he said. "Anyway, we have got to risk a light. Perhaps Mr. Turner is not dead."

With hands that trembled with excitement Walter struck a match and lit the lamp, then, the two boys lifted the prostrate man and laid him upon the bed. "Keep watch at the loophole while I see if anything can be done for him," Charley commanded.

The man's shirt was matted with blood and the lad did not attempt to take it off, but cut it away with his sheath knife, exposing the white chest in the center of which gapped a horrible hole. "He's badly wounded," he announced after a careful examination of the wound. "There's two holes, one in his chest and one in his side. I believe the bullet struck a rib and glanced, coming out at his side. If so, he will pull through if I can only stop the blood flowing. I'll have to keep this lamp lit for awhile even it is risky. I'll be as quick as I can."

There was little in the rude cabin with which to do in such a case, but the resourceful lad made the best of the situation, working with feverish speed so as to be able to extinguish the lamp as soon as possible. First, he washed out the wash basin thoroughly and filling it with clean water from the barrel added to the water a generous handful of salt. With this he washed the ugly-looking wound, then tearing into pieces a fresh sheet he found lying on a shelf, he made a little wad of rags with which, after soaking them in salt water, he plugged up the gaping hole. Over this he bound wet strips of the sheet to hold it securely in place. He was rewarded for his labor by seeing that the flow of blood was quickly checked and soon ceased entirely. As soon as he made certain of this, he extinguished the light and crept to his chum's side.

"I think he will pull out all right," he announced. "He is unconscious yet, and when he does come to he'll be very weak from loss of blood. Have you seen any more of those fellows?"

"They're still in the woods around the clearing. Listen and you'll hear their voices every now and then."

"Has the man who was shot moved any?"

"No, he lays just as he fell. I guess he's dead."

"It's a horrible affair," said Charley with a shudder. "I'll never forget this night. It has put us in a bad fix. We can't leave here now, and I don't like the way the wind is coming up. If there's a heavy storm, the captain and Chris will be in danger, it wouldn't take a very heavy sea to cover that marsh. Just listen how it's blowing."

Walter seemed not to hear what his chum was saying. He stood staring out at the still figure stretched on the ground. "He hasn't moved, but maybe he isn't dead," he said at last. "Perhaps, he is bleeding to death and a little attention might save his life."

"You're right," Charley exclaimed. "We must bring him in."

CHAPTER XXXI.
THE ENEMIES.

It was a risky thing to attempt. To venture outside would be to expose themselves in the bright moonlight to the bullets of the feudalists, but the two plucky lads never hesitated. The body lay not a dozen steps from the cabin and it would not do to let his fellows approach that close to the little fort. Either they must save him themselves, if he was not already dead, or leave him to die alone in the night.

"We must be quick about it," Charley declared. "As soon as I unlatch the door, we must run out, grab him by the shoulders, and drag him in—he's too heavy to lift."

In this bold move fortune seemed to favor the lads. They got their heavy burden to the door before a shot was fired and, then, the bullets whistled harmlessly above their heads.

"We were lucky that time," Charley panted as he barred the door again. "Now keep a sharp lookout. I'll have to light that lamp again."

"This fellow is not so very badly hurt," he announced, as soon as he had examined his new patient. "The bullet has gone right through the fleshy part of his shoulder. He will come out of it all right if the wound is kept clean." In a few minutes he had washed and dressed the wound as he had the other man's, then, putting out the light once more, he rejoined his companion at the loophole. "Anything stirring?" he inquired.

"No, I don't even hear their voices now. Perhaps they will not bother us again to-night," Walter replied, hopefully.

"I am not worrying about them as much as I am this wind," said his chum gloomily. "We are safe enough here so long as the grub and water holds out, but, God knows how it is faring with Chris and the captain."

The gale was now howling and whistling around the little cabin with a force to justify Charley's gloomy apprehension. The boys had to speak loudly to make themselves heard above its uproar. They soon abandoned all attempts at conversation and waited wearily and silently for another assault from the feudalists and for the coming of day.

Either the ruffians had at last become over-powered by the liquor they had drank or else they had decided to wait the coming of day, for they did not again show themselves in the clearing. Day, however, came at last, after what seemed to the exhausted lads an age of waiting.

As soon as it became light enough to see, Charley removed the bandages from their stricken host and redressed his wound more carefully. "His pulse is getting stronger and there is some color in his face," he remarked to his chum. "I believe, I could bring him to, but I guess it's best to let him lie unconscious as long as he can. He will suffer enough when he does regain consciousness."

As soon as he finished with Turner, Charley turned to his other patient who was beginning to move uneasily and show signs of returning consciousness. While he was yet bathing his wound the man opened his eyes.

"Gosh! how my shoulder hurts," he growled. "Be mighty careful how you touch it, young fellow, or I'll skin you alive."

Charley set aside the basin of water and rising to his feet looked down on the fellow with a face full of scorn.

"You great, big, drunken, cowardly murderer," he exclaimed. "It's a pity that bullet didn't kill you. You are not fit to live on God's green earth. You're shot when trying, with a crowd of your fellows, to kill a lone, inoffensive man. Your friends don't think enough of you to come back and get your carcass. We bring you in and care for you and instead of thanks, your first words are a growl and a threat. You are a cowardly, disgraceful cur,—that's what you are."

Astonished rage filled the man's face. "No man ever said words like that to Jim Wright and lived," he gasped. He attempted to rise but was too weak to gain his feet, and sank back with a groan.

"Oh, I guess you won't do any killing for a little while," sneered Charley, whose anger was at white heat. "I've no doubt people have been afraid to tell you the truth before, but you are going to hear it for once in your life. I've no doubt with your strength and disposition you've bullied everything until they are afraid to do anything but flatter you, but, now you are going to take a dose of your own medicine." Then, seating himself just out of reach of the man's powerful arms, he proceeded to tell him what he thought of him in words that stung with contempt and scorn. Then, as his anger subsided, he repeated the story Turner had told him, contrasting Turner's quiet, patient, peaceful heroism with the other's blood-thirstiness and violence, with all the power of the earnestness he felt.

At first the man kept interrupting him with curses and abuse, but as he went calmly on ignoring the interruptions the fellow lay quiet, his face turned to the wall.

Once Charley stopped, thinking he might have fainted he lay so still, but he spoke up gruffly.

"Did I kill him?"

"No, but it's not your fault that you didn't," the lad replied, curtly, and went on with his arraignment. "I don't care a hang what you and your cowardly fellows think," he concluded, "all decent people would say that that poor fellow lying there is a brave hero while you are the mean-spirited, cowardly one. And, now, if you'll lie quiet and keep your mouth shut, I'll dress that wound. I hate to pollute my hands by touching you, but it's got to be done."

The man lay quiet while the lad washed and bound up his wound. Charley could see that his features were working convulsively, but whether from rage or pain he could not determine.

As soon as his task was completed, Charley relieved his chum at the loophole and Walter set about making coffee and cooking some breakfast. They were both sadly in need of food and felt much better after they had eaten. As soon as they had finished, Charley made his chum lie down to take a nap, promising to call him, and lie down himself in a couple of hours.

While Walter was asleep Turner came out of the deep swoon which had followed his wound. He was weak and in terrible pain but in full possession of his senses. It was evident that he was greatly bewildered at the sight of his enemy lying helpless on the floor, and Charley explained the situation to him in a few words.

"I sho' am glad I didn't kill him," said the sick man, thankfully. "I jes' shot at his laigs, the gun must have gone off when I fell. I am sho' sorry I hurt you so bad, Jim, I didn't aim for to do hit."

But Wright kept his face turned to the wall and answered not a word.

As the morning advanced Charley was much puzzled by the constant sound of hammering coming from the woods near the clearing. It was evident their enemies were preparing another surprise but he could not guess at its nature.

All the morning long the hammering continued, then shortly before noon there emerged from the woods an object which caused him at first, to stare in bewildered surprise, and, then, as it drew nearer the cabin to send him to shaking Walter, whom he had let sleep on.

"Wake up! Wake up!" he cried. "We have got to fight for our lives. Those fellows have built a heavy breastwork on the front of a wagon and are shoving it ahead of them up to the cabin."

"Young fellows! help me up and help me to that loophole," gruffly commanded the wounded man on the floor. "Don't hesitate," he cried as the lad was about to refuse the surprising command, "them fellows have got a couple of sticks of dynamite in that cart an' if they get near enough to throw it thar won't be enough left of this cabin to make a good toothpick. We was aiming to use it last night if we couldn't get Turner no other way."

Between them the two startled lads got the big fellow on his feet and supported him to the loophole where he leaned against the logs, his face twitching with the pain of his effort.

It was just in time, for the wagon with its burden of death was scarce a hundred feet away when he shouted: "Stop where yer are, boys. Thar ain't no call to throw any of that stuff."

"Is that you, Cap?" called one of the men. "Why, we 'lowed yer was dead."

"An' I might have been for all of yu fellows, leaving me to die on the ground like a poisoned dog."

He paused while a chorus of excuses came from the men behind the breastwork.

"Well, I ain't dead, but it ain't no thanks to yu fellows," he went on slowly and painfully. "Now, yu fellows jes' roll that wagon back whar hit came from an' go home and behave yerselves. Yu fellows know me an' know I'll do what I say. Hit's jes' come to me, an' hit's come in a powerful rough way, that I've been powerful mean, pisen an' onery. My eyes am sho' opened at last, an' I'm powerful ashamed of how I've been carryin' on. But hit's all over now. From now on Bill Turner is my friend, an' the man that lifts a finger again' him lifts it again' me, an' me an' my close kin will make this place too hot to hold him. That's all I've got to say. Now, go home."

Murmurs of astonishment arose from the men behind the wagon as they slowly but obediently backed the wagon towards the woods. Over the face of the wounded man on the bed stole a look of joy unspeakable.

The bewildered but delighted boys helped Wright back to his place on the floor.

"I want to shake hands with you, Mr. Wright," said Charley, earnestly. "I am afraid I talked pretty rough to you."

"I needed hit," said the other as he took the proffered hand. "Hit's a pity, young fellow, that thar ain't more like yu down in this neck of thar woods."

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE CASTAWAYS AGAIN.

Leaving the boys safe from the danger that had threatened them, let us return to the castaways whom we left confronted by that menace, the most grewsome of all to shipwrecked sailors, the lack of water.

The sponger captain needed no explanation but the captain's simple words to realize the terrible tortures and awful death that awaited them all if help in some shape did not soon come to their rescue. His bronzed face grew white beneath it's coat of tan.

"I am frightfully thirsty, already," he exclaimed, "Is there no way we can reach the mainland. Thar's water in plenty thar."

"If we were birds or fish, we might get thar, I reckon," replied Captain Westfield, "but, being as we are only human beings, I calculate it ain't no way possible."

The Conch eyed the raging water that stretched between the little island and the shore.

"A strong swimmer might make it," he observed, musingly. "I've swum farther many a time but it was when I was in a sight better shape than I am now."

"Yes, I reckon a right powerful swimmer might make it," assented the captain, "but this little fellow and I are not equal to it, we'd never reach the land."

"I believe I could do it even now," said the sponger calculatingly, "but I won't desert yo' two Yo' saved my life an' I'd be worse than a Greek to leave yo' here."

"If you can do it, go ahead, man," said the old sailor. "You can't do us any good by staying. Better save your own life," but the Conch shook his head sadly.

"My life ain't worth much, now," he said sadly. "My little ship's gone, all my brave comrades drowned, an' everything I had in the world lost. I've not much to live for now."

"Bosh, man," said the old sailor, "I reckon, thar's always something for a man to live for as long as the Good Lord let him live. If thar wasn't the Lord wouldn't let him live."

But the Conch was not to be comforted, the full extent of his loss was beginning to make itself felt as he regained his strength and the full possession of his senses after his terrible ordeal. He soon moved a little apart from the two castaways, and, seating himself on the sand buried his face in his hands. The two watchers could see the tears trickling between his fingers and they turned away greatly moved at that most impressive of sights, the grief of a strong man, ashamed of displaying his tears. When they looked again he was on his knees and his bowed head showed that he was praying. When he rejoined them, his manner was filled with the calm and quietness of one who has found peace for his afflictions.

"I see there is no wood here with which to build a raft," he observed. "Things look pretty bad, but they say the darkest hour is just before the dawn. We must take courage. Yo'r young friends may return with help at any hour."

The captain shook his head sadly. "Something has happened to them or they would have been back long ago. They cannot return now until the storm is over."

"It cannot last much longer," declared the Conch, confidently. "It is losing force now, I believe it will blow out by morning."

"Maybe, but it will take a long time for the sea to go down so a boat can live in it, and, in the meantime we have no water."

"We must not give way to despair," said the Conch, who seemed like another man after his devotions. "Let's dig another well right in the midst of the island, perhaps we can get water fit to drink."

With but little hope the three fell to work and by noon had dug a hole to water, but they had only their labor for their pains, the water was salt, bitter, and undrinkable. Indeed their labor was worse than fruitless for their exertions had greatly increased their thirst.

Chris kindled a fire and roasted some of the turtle meat and eggs, but the castaways only partook of a few mouthfuls, as eating seemed but to increase their thirst.

The Conch had lost his hat when wrecked and Chris, observing his bare head, set about braiding him another hat from the green palmetto leaves.

The Sponger watched him with interest. "Do yo' think yo' could make a water-tight mat of that stuff?" he enquired, eagerly.

"Golly! I reckon, dis nigger could," declared the little darkey. "I'se done made baskets ob hit dat would hold water like a bucket."

"How long would it take yo' to make a mat four feet square?"

The little negro considered, "I guess I could do hit in a day."

"Then drop that hat business and get to work on hit. Work like yo' never did before. There's a chance, jes' a chance, that it will be the saving of us. Captain, there is work for us to do. Get the entrails out of one of those turtle shells. Clean them out good, pack them full of sand, and stretch them out in the sun to dry. I've got a plan in mind. It may fail, but it's worth trying. Be careful not to break the skins."

It was evident from the man's manner that he was intensely in earnest and the old sailor lost no time in asking idle questions but went quickly to work at the task assigned him. In a short time he had cleaned and washed out the turtle entrails and filling them with dry sand stretched them out to dry in the hot sun. When thus prepared they formed a kind of small hose some thirty feet in length.

While he was thus engaged, the Conch dragged the empty shell down to the water and cleaned and washed it out thoroughly. Leaving it near the water's edge, he collected and piled close beside it, a heap of dry wood. Then he returned to where Chris was working and fell to helping him by stripping and preparing the palmetto buds for the little darkey's nimble fingers.

Just before sundown he carefully removed the sand from the dried entrails and was in possession of a long, tough waterproof hose without hole or break in it.

Night brought no cessation of the strange labor. A fire was kindled beside the little darkey and he plaited on by its light while the captain and the Conch kept him supplied with palmetto strips.

About midnight Chris held up his work with a weary sigh; "Hit's done," he announced.

"Now for the test," cried the Conch, trembling with excitement.

Taking the strong, flexible, green mat he hurried down to the turtle shell which he had filled half full of sea water. Placing the mat over the top of the shell, he bound it firmly in place with wisps of palmetto leaves. Then, cutting a small hole in the center of the mat, he inserted in it one end of the strange hose, packing wet sand around it to make it air-tight. He next coiled down the hose in the edge of the sea and placed the other end of it in the empty turtle shell. Then, heaping wood around the mat-covered shell, he started a fire.

The Captain and Chris at last understood his plan. With his rude contrivance, he was going to try to distill fresh water from salt after the manner they do on big steamships with costly and complicated apparatus. The steam from the heated water was supposed to escape from the shell through the hose. In passing through it it would become chilled when the hose was coiled down in the cold sea water and, condensing into water again, reach the other shell fresh and free from salt.

In theory the plan was perfect, but would the rude contrivance do the work?

The three thirsty watchers fairly held their breath as they kept the fire roaring around the shell and awaited results. At last tiny wisps of steam began to trickle through the closely-woven mat. Tiny drops of moisture were dropping from the end of the hose. These grew larger and larger until at last a tiny stream of water trickled forth.

They danced and shouted for joy. "It works! It works!" they cried.

But thirsty though they were they had to possess their souls in patience and wait for the process worked very slowly. All night they staid by the shells keeping the fire going. Just at day-break the Conch gave the command to put out the fire. In the other shell was several gallons of clear, pure water. As soon as it had cooled sufficiently they dipped it up with shells and drank greedily. It was slightly bitter and tasteless but never did drink taste better to parched throats. With the satisfying of their thirst, came hunger and they all made a hearty meal off the roasted meat and eggs left from dinner. Just as the sun arose they lay down to sleep completely exhausted but with thankfulness to God in their hearts. Their greatest danger was past. They had water and food in abundance, and the storm was slowly but surely subsiding.

They slept through the long day, awakening only when the shades of night began to fall. Then after satisfying their hunger and thirst, they lay down and slept until morning came.

They opened their eyes upon a clear, still day. The storm had gone and the sea was growing calm. Far to the South there showed on the blue water a tiny patch of white,—a sail.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE RESCUE.

The castaways watched the distant sail with mingled feelings of joy and suspense. Was it the boys, or was it merely a strange craft beating up the coast? Would it pass near the island or would it go by too far out for them to make their presence known? These were the questions they debated as they strained their eyes on the distant patch of white.

One thing soon became evident to the eager watchers, the sail was steadily growing larger. Although the storm had passed and the sea subsided there was still a brisk breeze blowing and each passing hour brought the stranger craft visibly nearer. No thought of breakfast entered the castaways' minds, all their attention was fixed on the approaching sail.

At last it became evident that the vessel was a small sloop, that it was headed directly for the island and that it was rolling and pitching frightfully in the still heavy seas.

On it came, plunging and tossing like a frightened steed and sending showers of spray from its cut water. At last it was close enough to discover two figures on its decks, one at the wheel, the other forward, tending the jib sheet.

"Hit's Massa Charley and Massa Walter," shouted the sharp-eyed Chris. "Praise de Lawd, Praise de Lawd," and his over-joyed companions shouted a fervent "Amen."

The sloop came steadily on, passing the island and rounding up under its lee as near as its young captain dared to approach. Anchor was dropped, sails lowered, and launching a small boat it carried on deck, its crew of two came sculling for the shore.

And what a demonstration of joy there was when it grounded on the sands and the chums so long separated and so long beset with perils were once more reunited. Such hand-wringings and congratulations, and eager questions and chorused answers. All happy. All excited. All talking at once, and no one making himself thoroughly understood in the general clamor.

But Charley soon interrupted the talk-feast. "We will be here all day at this rate," he said, laughing. "We had better get on board and get under way. That sloop is pretty old and cranky for these waters and we'd better get back as soon as we can for fear another squall will come up. We can tell our stories on the way."

The suggestion was wise and as none cared to linger long on the dreary little island which had been the scene of so much anxiety and suffering, there was no delay in carrying it out. All climbed into the little boat and were carried out to the sloop. Her sails were hoisted, her anchor weighed, and her bowsprit headed South for Tarpon. Down in the sloop's cabin the castaways found a hot meal of ham, eggs, potatoes and coffee waiting for them, which Walter had prepared as a pleasant surprise. In their excitement they had forgotten they were hungry, but they remembered it now and fell upon the tasty food with appetites that only left bare dishes when satisfied, at last. The boys had brought a pile of clothing with them, and after a wash-down in cool sea water, the castaways threw away their soiled, tattered garments, and, fed, washed, and freshly clothed, felt like new men.

The Captain's eyes danced with joy when Walter presented him with a pipe and tobacco he had brought with him.

Later all gathered around the wheel and stories and experiences were exchanged, but the reader is already familiar with the most of them.

"Even after the trouble was all over we couldn't get away at once," Charley said, concluding his tale. "I can tell you we were worried to have to lay around and wait for the storm to pass, knowing that you and Chris must be in danger on the island. The people were awfully good to us after the feud was ended. They could not do enough for us. They even wanted to give us money, but of course we couldn't take that. As soon as the wind went down we borrowed this boat of Mr. Turner and started out. We are to leave her at Tarpon and he will get her from there."

"Well, all's well that ends well, I reckon," said the captain, puffing in supreme content. "We are safe an' well now an' while we ain't got much money, we will have the 'Beauty' as soon as she comes into port, an' she's jes' the same as two thousand dollars in the bank."

"And we will have another try for that gold when we get her," Charley declared. "I figure that those fellows had to cast loose during the storm and scud before it. They could not ride it out at anchor. Now that the buoy's gone, it will take them a long time to locate the gold again. We, knowing the latitude and longitude can get back to the spot before they can find it and get all the gold removed, if we can get a revenue cutter at Tarpon, as I think we can."

The Captain's face was filled with dismay. "I've clean forgot the figures, boys," he exclaimed. "I put it down in the log all ship-shape, the latitude and longitude, but I've clean forgot what it was. I ain't got no memory for figures."

It was a heavy blow for the golden-hopes of the two boys and a silence of disappointment followed the old sailor's announcement.

"It's no use crying over spilt milk," said Charley, at last, cheerfully. "We have still got the schooner, and, with the money we get from her, we can make a good start at something else."

"You have still good cause for rejoicing," observed the sponger captain. "You will still have your vessel, but I have lost my all."

The two chums were not the boys to give way to repining and they were soon again as bright and cheerful spirits as if their brightest hopes had been realized.

It was midnight when the little sloop at last crept into the harbor of Tarpon. It was useless to go ashore at such an hour so the little party made everything snug aboard and turned in on deck for a few hours' sleep.

They were up early next morning, and, after a hasty breakfast, hurried ashore to notify the Commissioner of their arrival and get him to take steps for the seizure of the "Beauty" as soon as she reached port.

Mr. Driver was standing out in front of his store as they came up the street. Amazement and incredulity filled his face when he sighted them.

"You!" he cried, "Why, I thought you were all at the bottom of the Gulf."

"No, we are slightly disfigured but still in the ring," laughed Charley as he shook hands. "Our schooner has not come in yet, has she?"

Mr. Driver stared at him for a second. "There's a mystery here," he declared. "Come on into the store, and let's hear your story."

Seated in the store's little back room, Charley recounted their adventures while Mr. Driver listened attentively. When he had concluded, Mr. Driver remained silent for a moment.

"I hate to be the teller of bad news," he said, at last, "but you must learn it, and it had better come from a friend. Your schooner is lost with all hands on board."

"Lost!" cried all together.

"Yes, she went down at anchor during the storm. The Greek sponger 'Zenephone' was passing when she went under. Not a man was saved. Every one on the 'Zenephone' wondered why she did not scud before it instead of hanging to her anchor. I understand now. They did not want to leave the neighborhood of the gold."

It was a heavy blow. At one sweep they were robbed of their all. The little band of chums sat paralyzed with grief, looking helplessly at each other. Mr. Driver arose quietly and closed the door softly behind him, leaving them alone with their grief.

For a few moments no one spoke. "It's hard, but it must be met," sighed Walter at last. "What are we going to do? We have nothing left now, not even the clothes we wear."

"God knows," answered Charley, hopelessly, at a loss for once. "I suppose we will have to hunt work at something or other."

"And likely be scattered and separated for the first time in years," exclaimed the captain.

"That's the worst of it," agreed Walter, sadly. "I don't mind working but I hate for us all to have to drift apart."

"Me too," wailed Chris. "Golly! I don't want to be with no one but you-alls."

"I don't believe the 'Beauty' is lost," Charley declared. "I believe this is just another of Manuel's tricks. He is as sharp a rascal as ever lived. I'll bet she is safe and sound somewhere and that Manuel just bought the Greeks on the 'Zenephone' to tell that story."

"Maybe," admitted the captain, doubtfully. "The story rings true, though. It would have been likely for them to hang to their anchor by the gold."

"And it would be just the kind of details Manuel would think of, knowing we would be more likely to believe the story if we escaped alive. He is an artist at rascality."

"Even if you're right, I reckon it won't help us much," said the old sailor. "The story's tied our hands all right. The Commissioner won't do anything just on our suspicions, an' we ain't got any money to do anything ourselves."

"I feel that Charley is right," Walter declared, "but we've got only one chance to prove it. Get to work, get some money and hire a Greek detective to look into the matter for us. The first question is, what can we do to earn money?"

They were engaged in a fruitless discussion on this point when Mr. Driver entered. He heard their discussion with sympathetic interest.

"There is no work around here," he declared. "The Greeks work cheaper than an American can. It's hard for an American to earn a bare living here. I understand from what you say that you do not want to be separated. I might find work for one of you, but I couldn't for all. There is only one suggestion I can make in such a case."

"Please give it to us," Walter requested.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
CONCLUSION.

"Well," said Mr. Driver, "there is a large fish-house at Clearwater, twenty miles below here. You probably could get a job fishing for it. You could all work together then. It is hard, dirty work but there is pretty good money in it if a man works hard."

The chums exchanged glances.

"I believe we will try it," Charley said. "Of course we will have to talk it over before we decide, but there does not seem to be anything else we can do."

"Very well," said Mr. Driver, "I'll give you a letter to the fish boss, I know him personally. And you'll need a little money to pay your fares there. You can return it when you get to earning."

The chums thanked the kind-hearted storekeeper for his advice and assistance and adjourned to the sidewalk where they discussed the matter earnestly. It did not take them long to decide to follow Mr. Driver's suggestion. They bid good-bye to the sponger captain, who decided to remain in Tarpon and try to get service on one of Mr. Williams' schooners, and, accepting the loan of ten dollars, which Mr. Driver pressed upon them, they boarded the first train going South and soon landed in the little town of Clearwater. And there, we must leave them for the present.

THE END.

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired. The original text had no table of contents. One was created to aid the reader. Chapter I is untitled.

Page 3, "tatooed" changed to "tattooed" (tattooed arms and rolling)

Page 10, two lines were transposed. The original read:

shouted, as the smiling Greek shrugged his shoul-
up with the money by to-morrow night I'll close up
ders. "You know what I say. If you don't come
this place and have you prosecuted for obtaining

Page 14, "hundreth" changed "hundredth" (a hundredth part of)

Page 43, "alloted" changed to "allotted" (allotted to their boat)

Page 62, "along" changed to "alone" (worse than being alone)

Page 74, repeated word "see" removed from text Original read: (I don't see see what his object)

Page 78, "Manual" changed to "Manuel" (Manuel approached Captain)

Page 85, "blow" changed to "below" (been below for only)

Page 89, "exclaimation" changed to "exclamation" (an exclamation of surprise)

Page 93, "captian" changed to "captain" (the captain declared)

Page 100, "gapping" changed to "gaping" (gaping hole in her)

Page 101, "was" changed to "were" (There were no)

Page 102, "that" changed to "than" (time than it has)

Page 105, "aim" changed to "air" (working the air pump)

Page 109, "baton" changed to "beaten" (Greeks had been badly beaten)

Page 128, "averge" changed to "average" (better than average marksmen)

Page 164, "squaking" changed "squawking" (marsh hens, the squawking)

Page 190, "minues" changed to "minutes" (in a few minutes he)

Page 203, "taveling" changed to "traveling" (further traveling dangerous)

Page 231, repeated word "is" removed from text. Original read: (awhile even it is is risky)

Page 231, "gapping" changed to "gaping" (up the gaping hole)