Young Hunters in Porto Rico/Chapter 15
CHAPTER XV.
A LIVELY FIGHT WITH A SERPENT.
"A snake!"
"Kill it, somebody!"
"Bun, before it strikes you!"
Such were some of the cries which rang out, as all started to secure places of comparative safety.
Then a pistol shot rang out. The report came from old Jacob's weapon, but the bullet passed over the serpent's head.
By this time all had crowded to the edge of the little opening.
Behind them was a series of jagged rocks, the climbing of which would be no easy task. In front was a cliff overlooking the valley, and on one side were heavy bushes.
The only escape, therefore, lay to their left. But here was where the snake had located itself, as if to make them prisoners.
"We're in a pickle," groaned Dick, as he drew his own pistol. Bang! went the weapon, and the bullet clipped the reptile's tail.
The wound enraged the serpent, and it slashed right and left with pain. Then it raised its head once more and darted straight for Dick.
Its eyes blazed like twin diamonds, and it may truthfully be said that for a moment the owner of the Dashaway was dazed.
But now a most unexpected thing happened.
Dash had wandered off in the brush and been forgotten.
He leaped into view with a bound and coming up behind the snake caught it in the neck with his strong teeth.
There was a grating sound, and the head of the snake twisted painfully and then dropped limply.
"Good for Dash!" cried Don, and rushing up, he fired his pistol at the snake's body, literally cutting it in half.
Then Dash dropped the quivering body, and to settle matters, Robert Menden crushed the head with a sharp stone.
It was several minutes before anybody recovered his former composure.
"Dash am de greatest dog wot ever lived!" cried Danny, and hugged the canine around the neck. At this Dash wagged his tail furiously, as though he understoond perfectly. But strange to say, now the snake was dead, the dog could not be coaxed to go anywhere near it.
"He knew we were in danger," declared Bob. "Otherwise you couldn't have hired him to tackle a thing like that," and the others were forced to admit that this must be so.
No one wanted to remain in that locality, so they set off once more without further delay. The road was now steeper than before, and by the time Caguas came into sight, everybody was fagged out and glad to think that traveling for that day had come to an end.
The appearance of the town was a disappointment to them. Caguas contains but five thousand inhabitants, mostly Caribbean negroes, and there are only a few buildings of fair size. The other shelters are mere huts, stretching along irregular streets, which are dirty in themselves and piled high with the refuse of years.
"The people here must be dirt poor," observed Don. "Gracious! I never thought to see such poverty—and with so much good land around that might be cultivated."
"Many of the folks won't work, no matter how hard ye drive 'em," answered old Jacob. "They live by stealin' their neighbors' fruit, and when they want anything from San Juan or Ponce they go into the woods, pick a bag or two o' cocoanuts, and take 'em along on a pony to trade with."
"Which goes to prove that it's not a good thing for nature to provide a man with too easy a living," laughed Dick. "Real labor would be the making of lots of these natives."
To find proper accommodations in Caguas was not an easy matter. There was a small hotel, but this had been visited by fire and no rooms were to be had there.
"I will take you in," said a native, who met them. "My house is the cleanest in the village, señors. Come;" and they followed him almost to the outskirts.
The native's name was Carlos Remora, and all found him "a pretty decent sort of a fellow," to use Robert Menden's manner of expressing it. He was a heavy-set mulatto and spoke very fair English.
"I travel to Florida once," he said, with much pride. "I show a man how to raise oranges. Stay dare two years, den come back here."
"Why didn't you remain in Florida?" queried Don.
"Wife no like it dare—she have all her family here. But now wife dead and Carlos Remora alone in de worl'."
As they had agreed to pay him well, the native provided an excellent supper, baking among other things some delicious cakes made of banana flour, with grated cocoanut on top.
There were but two rooms to his house, which was only a single story in height.
He occupied one, with Danny and old Jacob, while the others of the party occupied the second.
But sleep was next to impossible. The house was certainly clean, so far as dirt was concerned, but it was alive with bugs, ants and other insects, for this portion of Porto Rico is overrun with these pests.
"Oh my!" roared Don, after he had been in bed less than an hour. "I'm being eaten up alive!"
"Ditto," came from Bob. He turned up the light. "What's this on the floor, spots of dirt? No, by gracious, they're moving! And look at the beds!"
"We've struck a bug colony!" put in Dick. "I reckon we're in for it for the balance of this night."
"I'm going outside and sleep on the ground," announced Leander. "If I stay here I'll get the nightmare, sure. Ugh!" And slipping on his trousers, he made a dash for the open air, and the others followed. Soon the owner of the house was aroused, but he could do nothing for them.
"My house best house in Caguas," he said, simply. "Nobody can stop de bugs an' ants. Must let dem run," and he went back to bed. The boys and Robert Menden shook out their blankets and tried to get some sleep outside, under the trees, but were not very successful, and were glad enough when the rising sun announced another day at hand.
"And now for the treasure cave!" whispered Dick to Robert Menden, and the Englishman smiled and squeezed his hand in silence. The two had taken a great liking to each other from the very start.
Robert Menden had been talking confidentially with the native, and had come to the conclusion that the man could be thoroughly, trusted. He now asked Remora if he knew anything of the caves.
"I have seen a part of the Dark Cave, which is on a plantation six miles from here," he said. "It is a bad place—nobody go dare for fun."
"And what of the other caves?" asked the Englishman.
"Udder caves little way off, all bad—no Porto Ricans go dare. Once two men go; one break leg, udder get eye knocked out by somebody in de cave."
"Got his eye knocked out!"
"Yes, señor. He in dark, when baf! something strike, an' he lose his eye. Werry bad place—better you not go down."
"Certainly we don't want to lose our eyes," was the Englishman's comment. "But will you take us to the entrance to the different caves? We will pay you for your trouble."
At first Carlos Remora demurred, but finally, when offered a dollar a day for his services by Dick, he consented to go along, and also agreed to take along enough provisions to last the whole party several days.
"Many tourists come on horseback," he said. "But the way is safer on foot. Horse may throw you in a hole."
Being assured that the climb up into the mountains would be a difficult one, they took their time in making their preparations for the departure. Bob had torn his coat and this was sewn up before leaving.
Leander was the only one to grow impatient, and stalked around urging the others to hurry. Then he started up the road alone.
He had not yet passed out of sight when they heard him utter a shout.
"What's up?" called out Dick.
"Come here—somebody is in trouble!" returned Leander, and then the whole party set off to see what was the matter.