CHAPTER XII

JERRY IS HURT

Breakfast aboard the _Wanderer_ was afterward voted by the boys as the best meal they had ever eaten. The three girls who were jolly and full of fun, made the occasion lively with the description of their travels, to which the boys added an account of some of their adventures.

“I wish I was a man!” exclaimed Rose, when Jerry had told of their trip to the buried city in Mexico. “That’s what I should like to do.”

“Maybe you’ll find some ancient ruins where you are going,” suggested Ned.

“We’s going to Lake Okeechobee,” responded Olivia. “I guess we’ll find nothing but swamps.”

“I believe there is a remnant of several tribes of Seminole Indians there,” put in Jerry. “Perhaps you’ll discover a prehistoric city.”

“Oh, are there really Indians?” asked Nellie. “How perfectly terrible! I’d like to see a little pappoose, but I’d be afraid of a full blooded Indian!”

While the young people talked in this strain Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Seabury were discussing deeper subjects. Mr. Seabury, it developed, was quite wealthy, and had helped to found several scientific schools. He was quite interested in the professor’s nature studies, and wanted to know all about the rare butterfly the scientist was seeking.

“I’ll keep a lookout for it,” promised the owner of the _Wanderer_. “If I see one I’ll catch it for you.”

“So will I!” exclaimed Rose, who had listened to the ending of the conversation. “I’m fond of animals.”

“The--er--butterfly isn’t exactly an animal,” spoke the professor with a smile. “But I would be very glad if you could catch one for me.”

“I suppose you’ll get to Lake Okeechobee ahead of us,” said Nellie to Jerry. “If you do we may see you there. It’s rather a large body of water, according to the map, but I expect you will navigate most of it.”

“We plan to make a circuit of it,” answered Ned. “We may find some one we know there.”

“Who?” asked the girl, but before Ned could state that he referred to Noddy Nixon, Mr. Seabury called out:

“Now would one of you boys mind looking at our engine? I’d like to get under way again.”

“There’s your chance, Bob!” whispered Ned, but Bob did not have to undertake the job, for Jerry, who had a natural fondness for machinery, was soon tinkering away at the motor. He found that the mechanism which controlled the electric spark was out of order and, though it was no easy matter to adjust, he soon had the machine working better than ever.

Mr. Seabury was very grateful, and pressed the boys and Mr. Snodgrass to spend several days aboard the _Wanderer_. The chums were half-minded to, but the professor was impatient to begin the hunt for the rare butterfly, the haunts of which were farther south, so they prepared to leave their island camp.

The hot sun and wind soon dried out the wetness of the night before, and when everything had been packed aboard the _Dartaway_ the boys bade their host and his pretty daughters good-bye. Then, voicing the hope that they would meet again soon, those in the motor boat started down the lake toward the Kissimmee river, while the _Wanderer_ followed more slowly.

“They’re a nice lot of girls,” observed Bob with a sigh, as a turn of the lake hid the houseboat from sight. “Very nice girls.”

“Which one?” asked Jerry with a smile.

“All of ’em!”

“A very fine man!” was the professor’s comment on Mr. Seabury. “He has traveled much and has seen many strange insects. A very learned man.”

They were now in a fine region, a country higher than the usual low level of Florida, and noted for the variety of its crops. They passed through several large cattle ranges and again through long stretches of dense forests. Now and then they would come to a little colony where fruit growers had settled. At noon they went ashore near a little village and had dinner.

“Boys!” exclaimed the professor, as they prepared to resume their journey, “I’ve had good news!”

“Did some one tell you where to find that butterfly?” asked Bob.

“No, but a man in the village said there was a curious mound about ten miles below here, a mound erected by a prehistoric race, I believe. I must investigate it. Who knows but I shall find some valuable relics?”

“You mean a heap of dirt such as the Ohio mound builders put up?” asked Ned.

“The same, my boy, only I think this one will be richer in historical treasures. The man said it was seldom visited by any one in this region. He was guiding a hunting party one day and discovered it. Come, we must hurry off. I want to see it before dark.”

Once more the _Dartaway_ was sent ahead. The river wound in and out in the dense forest, now broadening and again narrowing. Sometimes it was quite shallow and then would come a deep place, in which several varieties of fish could be observed in the clear depths. Bob wanted to catch some for supper, but the professor was anxious to keep on, so no stop was made.

“I think that’s the place!” Mr. Snodgrass exclaimed after several hours. “The man said when I saw three big palmetto trees on a little point of land to go ashore and then walk due west. There are the three trees,” and he pointed to them.

“Doesn’t look like a very inviting region,” remarked Jerry as he sent the boat over toward the little point. “But I suppose that makes it all the better for the mound. Well, professor, we’ll go ashore and see what we can find.”

Mooring the boat to the bank, the boys leaped out, the professor pausing to take several specimen boxes and his butterfly net.

“Guess I’ll take my gun,” announced Bob, turning back. “I might get a shot at something.”

He took his weapon, a combination rifle and shot gun, while the others went on ahead of him.

“Looks as though there was a path here,” said Jerry, pointing to a sort of trail through the woods.

“So it does,” admitted Mr. Snodgrass. “Well, so much the better for us.”

“Unless it has been made by a band of Indians or some ugly negroes,” said Jerry in a low tone. “I’ve read there are some black men who live in the swamps about here, and that they are worse than Indians.”

“Better call to Bob to come up front with his gun,” spoke Ned.

“No, it might alarm the professor,” replied Jerry. “But keep your eyes open.”

They followed the path, which wound in and out among the trees. Suddenly the professor, who had made his way to the fore, uttered a cry.

“What’s the matter?” asked Jerry, looking to see that Bob, with his gun, was close by.

“The mound!” cried the scientist, pointing to a large hill to be seen through the masses of moss hanging from the trees.

“It’s a mound, sure enough,” admitted Jerry. “Let’s see what it’s like.”

As they approached they saw that it was undoubtedly the work of human hands. It was shaped like a pyramid, and on either side stretched level land, covered with a dense growth of forest or underbrush.

“There are steps leading to the top!” cried Bob, who had gone around to the far side of the artificial hill. The others joined him and saw him ascending a rude flight of stairs made of stones set into the side of the mound.

“Better go slow,” advised Jerry. “No telling what’s up there.”

“Let me look for relics!” exclaimed the professor, and he hurried past Bob. “I’m sure there must be lots of them in this place.”

Bob stood aside while Jerry, who, as usual, assumed the leadership when there was a hint of danger, took the rifle. Then he started to follow the professor.

Jerry had not taken half a dozen steps when he trod on a loose stone. He nearly fell backward but recovered himself by an effort. In doing so, however, he leaned too far to one side. The next instant he had fallen and slid to the bottom of the mound.

The hammer of the gun came in contact with a stone or stick, and the weapon was discharged with a loud report. Fortunately the muzzle was pointed upward, and the bullet endangered no one.

“Are you hurt?” cried Ned and Bob, hurrying to Jerry’s aid.

They noticed that his face was white and drawn.

“I’m--afraid so,” he murmured, clenching his teeth to keep back a murmur of pain.

“Where is it?” asked Ned.

“My leg!”

They noticed that his left leg was doubled under him. As tenderly as they could they lifted him up. As they did so Bob saw a stream of blood trickling from Jerry’s foot.

“You’re shot!” he cried. “Oh Jerry!”

“No, it isn’t the bullet,” said Jerry. “I think I ran a sharp stone through my shoe as I fell.”

The two chums bent closer to look.

“It’s an Indian arrow head!” exclaimed Ned as he saw the long sharp piece of flint piercing the side of Jerry’s shoe. “I’ll pull it out.”

He tried, but it was imbedded in the flesh more firmly than he had thought.

“Oh!” exclaimed Jerry, and then the terrible pain, as Ned tried to withdraw the ancient weapon, made him faint.

“Professor!” cried Bob. “Jerry’s hurt!”

The scientist had disappeared on the top of the mound. Hardly had the echoes of Bob’s voice died away than from the forest surrounding the mound there emerged a band of ugly-looking negroes. They started to run toward the boys just as Mr. Snodgrass, hearing the call of distress, began to descend the stone steps.