True to his word, Lake had set them all to work. Hitherto he had kept a sort of rough set of accounts. It now became Mr. Chillingworth’s duty to tabulate and assort these and enter the various transactions of Lake’s unusual “business” in different books. Then, too, the provisions of so considerable a party called for a good deal of bookkeeping. The rancher welcomed the work, however, and plunged into it with avidity. It kept him from thinking, he explained.
As for Tom, employment of an unique sort was found for him. It has been mentioned that Zeb Hunt had complained of a shortage of provisions. It was, in fact, the case that food on the island was scarce and daily diminishing. At the time the party landed the men were already beginning to grumble. Lake’s presence at first had the effect of quieting them, but within a few days the discontented mutterings broke out afresh.
It was this condition of things that occasioned Tom’s employment in a strange occupation for such a place. The Bungalow Boy was appointed by Simon Lake storekeeper and purveyor of provisions. He had a hut provided for him in which he kept his stock—all the provisions on the island. These he doled out three times a day, giving to each man his exact portion. It was no sinecure of a position, either. Tom, who, of course, was in no way responsible for the arrangement or for the shortage of food, had to meet many black looks and insolent threats as he gave each man his share, and no more, in the measures Lake had provided for the purpose.
For an assistant he had Professor Dingle’s boy, and for the first time in his life that youth was kept so active that he had little time to ask foolish questions. At the time Tom assumed charge of the store the main provisions left in the colony consisted of flour, coffee, oatmeal, a little bacon, and some spices and sugar. For meat the men had to depend on the fish they caught—luckily, they were plentiful. Lake had, at one time, maintained a flock of sheep and goats, but these had long since been used up.
As for Professor Dingle and the two Kanakas, no occupation had, as yet, been found for them, but they helped at numerous small tasks about the colony. In return for their services the castaways had been given a hut in the rear of the storeroom. Here they ate and slept and indulged in long talks, none of them caring to mingle with the rough characters of the colony, with the exception of Tom’s friend, whose name was Lucas Tryon. This man was always a welcome visitor, and he more than repaid what entertainment they were able to give him by the things he told them about the island and the ways and customs of its dwellers.
One morning while they were still lingering over the remains of their scant breakfast, Lake himself slouched in. His wound had now quite healed. Only a white scar remained to show where he would always carry a mark.
“Waal, perfesser,” he remarked, “ef you air ready, I reckin I’ve got a job fer you ter tackle ter-day. Come ter think uv it, ther rest uv you might come along. Zeb ’ull look arter ther store, an’ he can take care of ther kid, too.”
The professor at first demurred to this, but Lake’s manner showed that he was not to be trifled with. Whatever he had in his mind to do he evidently meant to accomplish without delay. It is a curious light on the character of Zeb Hunt that, rough, brutal man that he was, he had become seemingly much attached to the professor’s little lad and was never irritated at his endless questions. The professor, therefore, felt less reluctance to leave the lad behind them.
Soon after, with some of the rapidly lessening stock of provisions with them, the party, at Simon Lake’s heels, struck into the brush. Behind them in the little settlement were black looks which Tom could not help but notice. But he had grown so used to this in the store that he paid little attention to them. Once or twice the sullen demeanor of the men had seemed on the point of flaring out into actual mutiny, but, so far, Lake had been able to quell it. It did not occur to Tom that things were rapidly reaching a crisis.
From the camp the brush appeared to be impenetrable. But under Simon Lake’s guidance they soon found themselves on a narrow trail which wound steeply off up the overgrown hillside.