Young Hunters in Porto Rico: or, The Search for a Lost Treasure. Stratemeyer Edward

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СКАЧАТЬ and reliable one, and youth sometimes reads character better than old age, doing so by instinct rather than reason.

      The boy had just struck out for shore when there came a shout, and two bicycle riders appeared, followed by an elderly man on horseback.

      The elderly man was very much excited and waved one hand wildly over his head.

      "Save Bessie!" he yelled. "Save my daughter!"

      And then dismounting, he attempted to leap into the stream, but one of the bicyclists held him back.

      "I'll bring her in," called out Bob.

      "Papa! papa!" cried the little girl. "I want my papa!"

      Slowly but surely Bob neared the bank of the river. The elderly man was close at hand, and the instant he was able to do so he caught his child by the arm and raised her up. "Thank God!" he murmured hoarsely, and strained the little one to his breast, while the tears started to his eyes.

      One of the bicycle riders gave Bob a hand, and almost exhausted, the lad was drawn up to a place of safety. He tried to stand up, but could not, and sank down on the sward.

      In the meantime the horses had come up and were plunging wildly, close to the wreck of the carriage. Both were on their sides, but presently one raised himself to a swimming position and struck out for the shore, dragging his mate and the wreck after him.

      The bicyclist, who up to this point had done nothing, now ran forward, and as the horse came closer he caught the animal by the curb, and soon both steeds were safe, although each was bruised by hoof strokes received from the other.

      "Your horses are all right now," said the wheelman, as he cut the team loose from the carriage, and tied them fast to a nearby palm tree. The carriage was fastened to the river bank.

      "Never mind the horses – it is my child I was thinking of," responded the elderly man. He turned to Bob. "Young man, you have done me a great service – a very great service, indeed."

      "Bessie is all wet," put in the little girl. "And so is that boy, papa. We want dry clothing."

      "Yes, yes, child, you shall go back to the hotel directly. But first I must reward this brave young man for what he has done."

      "Thank you, but I am not looking for a reward, sir," answered Bob, frankly. "I am glad that I was able to be of assistance."

      "You are as generous as you are brave; I can see that. May I ask your name?"

      "Robert Hobart; although all my friends call me Bob."

      "My name is Garrison Grey, and this is my only child, Bessie. I am glad to know you, Robert, and I'll not forget you; rest assured of that. Do you live here?"

      "Oh, no; I'm from a place away up North, and just came in on a yacht with some of my friends. We are off on a summer cruise to Porto Rico."

      "Porto Rico! Why, I am in business in that island," cried Garrison Grey.

      "Then perhaps we'll meet in Porto Rico," returned Bob.

      "That is true; and if we do, rest assured that I will do what I can to entertain you. I live and do business in Ponce, and here is my card," and Mr. Grey handed over the pasteboard, which showed that he was in the wholesale coffee business.

      By this time Don came up on a run, anxious to know the result of the runaway.

      "It was an adventure and no mistake," he observed, after he had been introduced and Bob had told his tale. "As soon as I caught sight of the river I was afraid you had all been drowned."

      Mr. Grey was stopping at the Grand Hotel, and he insisted that the two boys accompany him to the place, and be introduced to his wife. Then he followed Bob and Don down to where the Dashaway was taking on the last of her stores, and was invited on board.

      "Certainly a fine craft," he observed, as he was taken around. "She ought to stand the trip to Porto Rico very well. What place do you expect to stop at first?"

      "We haven't decided that point yet," answered Dick.

      "Well, don't forget to come to Ponce sooner or later. I will be at home very shortly – as soon as my business in St. Augustine is finished. I am going to take several friends with me."

      In less than an hour the anchor of the yacht was pulled up and the sails set, and off they glided down the smooth river, Garrison Grey waving them an adieu from the dock.

      "A fine man," mused Bob. "I hope we do meet again."

      "We'll have to stop at Ponce before we leave the island," answered Leander.

      And so they parted with the coffee merchant, little dreaming of the curious future meeting in store for the merchant and themselves.

      CHAPTER VII

      SAVING THE TRAIN

      For several days the weather proved delightful, and as the wind was strong and steady the Dashaway made rapid progress.

      All felt in the best of spirits, and with fishing and telling stories the time passed as quickly as could reasonably be expected.

      The boys soon learned that Robert Menden was a great story-teller, and never tired of sitting around him when he was spinning one of his yarns.

      One day they were talking of bicycle riding, when the young Englishman shook his head slowly. "No more riding for me," he said. "I have had enough and to spare of it. I once came close to losing my life in England through it – when I was out with a friend named Rexwell. I'll never forget that adventure."

      "Tell us of it!" shouted several of the boys at once; and sitting in a cozy corner of the deck, Robert Menden told his story as follows:

      "Rexwell and I were two days out from Orelle in the heart of England. We were following the smooth, winding road which leads from Paxton to Riley's, and which crosses the K. T. & B. railway at half a dozen or more points.

      "Rexwell had proposed the bicycle tour, as being different from the ordinary run of outings, and as I was on the lookout for excitement of any sort, I eagerly agreed to join him in a trip to last the best part of a week, never dreaming of all that was to follow in the shape of a close shave from death.

      "We both rode our favorite wheels, which, fortunately, were of the same make, thus doing away with the possibility of any dispute regarding the superiority of either. To our handle bars we had strapped a decidedly limited amount of baggage; our pocketbooks were sufficiently filled to meet all wants in that direction, and as both of us were in the best of health and free from worldly care, we went speeding along the highway in the best of spirits.

      "'Sixteen miles to Midland Cut,' sang out Rexwell, as he slowed up at a guideboard placed where a wagon trail crossed the road. 'We ought to be able to make that by supper time with ease.'

      "'It looks to me as if there was a hill back of yonder woods,' I replied, as I took a long look ahead.

      "'It can't be much of a climb, or we would see it over the treetops, Bert. We'll soon know,' he went on, as he forged ahead by an extra spurt, giving me some quick work on the pedals to catch up to him.

      "It was a little after four in the afternoon, or evening, as the residents of some localities termed it. The fore part of the day had been somewhat oppressive, СКАЧАТЬ