Charley frowned slightly. "That carbide light costs like fury," he said. "I brought out a big lot of it the last time I went to town. At the rate it has been used up, that light costs us about $5.00 a night."
"It is expensive," agreed Kitchner, "and that is not the worst feature about it. It's dangerous to use on a job like this, where the men do not understand it. There is always some escaping gas from the tank, which is easily set afire by a spark from the engine or the careless lighting of a match close by. One of the firemen was burnt some last night. The gas caught fire from his lantern. An electric light would be far better, less dangerous, and save its own cost in the long run."
"We'll get a dynamo and fix up an electric light, then," said Charley. "I'll go in to-night and order one. It will likely take several days to get it here, so I'll bring back enough carbide with me to run the light until it comes."
This settled, the boys rode on into camp, where Charley paused long enough to wash and change his clothes, then got out the truck and headed for town, where he arrived in time to catch the train for Palm Beach. He carried with him the gold and rings they had found in the old fort, for the boys had decided that it would be unwise to keep the treasure at camp, and that the sooner it was turned into money and safely deposited in the bank the better it would be. Once at the Beach, the lad sought out the leading jeweler in town, and showed him the rings and coins, and asked if he thought he could dispose of them for him.
The jeweler examined the rings with the greatest interest. "Some of these rings are very valuable," he declared. "Just how valuable, I would not like to say, offhand. If you care to intrust me with the disposal of them, I will get all the money I can out of them for you. The gold coins you will have no trouble about. Your bank will accept them at nearly their real value."
Charley quickly accepted the jeweler's offer, and turned over the rings to him and received a receipt in return. At the bank he had no trouble with the gold coins, the cashier readily accepting them and crediting the value to his account.
His business transacted, the lad bought a paper, and, securing a room in a nearby hotel, stretched out on the bed to read and rest, for he was thoroughly tired out by the long day he had put in. He scanned the headlines with mild interest, but at last he came to a paragraph that he read and reread with growing excitement. The brief item ran as follows:
"Among the bills that will come up before the legislature when it meets next month is one to give to a wealthy New York company a grant of one thousand acres of land, just east of Indiantown, for the nominal sum of $1 per acre. There is but little doubt that the bill will pass, for this land is so remote from transportation that it is considered of little or no value. The New York company, it is said, intends to develop the entire tract. They certainly seem very eager about it, for much money and influence is being used to secure the desired grant."
For a long time the lad lay back and considered this short notice, but could see nothing in it to account for the many attempts to stop the road building, for certainly a good road would be of vast value to the development company. At last he gave up puzzling over the matter, and turning out his light, prepared to go to sleep; but, he had no sooner stretched out, than there came a thumping at his door. "Wait a minute," he called to the knocker, as he turned on the light and slipped on his clothes. He opened the door, and in stepped a little, freckled-faced messenger boy.
"Gee, Mister," he said, "I've had a peach of a job finding you. Been to every hotel and boarding-house in town. Got a telegram for you. Sign right here."