"We'll have to tell the captain about this," declared Dave. "If there are natives around, he will want to know it."

"Perhaps they can tell us of a way out of the harbor," suggested Roger.

"Like as not, if there is a way out," spoke up Billy Dill. "They generally know the coasts putty well--bein' out so much in their canoes."

The little party continued on its exploring tour, but soon came to a portion of the marsh land the captain had mentioned. Not wishing to get stuck, they began to retrace their steps, until they were in the midst of the thickets again. Then a strange rushing sound through the trees broke upon their ears.

"Wait!" whispered Billy Dill, "I know what that is. Don't make any noise."

"Is there any danger?" queried Roger.

The old tar shook his head. Then he pointed upward, and the boys saw a large flock of beautiful tropical birds settling down on all sides of them.

"What a sight!" murmured Dave. "How pretty they are!"

"They get birds for ladies' hats from places like this," whispered Billy Dill.

"I know it. What a shame to shoot them down, too!"

"It is a shame, lad; and ladies ought to stop wearin' sech finery," said the old tar, soberly.

They watched the beautiful birds for some time. Then the creatures discovered the strangers, and off they went in a mad flight, and were lost to sight.

An hour later found the party pa.s.sing down the sh.o.r.e once more. Here they walked on the sand until they came to something of a cove, surrounded by stately palms.

"Might as well rest a bit----" began Roger, when Dave uttered a cry:

"See, the remains of a campfire!"

"Yes, and the remains of a feast, too!" added Phil. "Those natives must have been here!"

CHAPTER XXVII

A MAP AND A PLOT

The boys and Billy Dill viewed the surroundings with interest. Some bones lay on the ground, and they kicked them over.

"These can't be human bones, can they?" whispered the senator's son to Dave.

"No, Roger, they are nothing but the bones of some small animal."

"I was afraid the natives might be cannibals!"

To one side of the camp lay a fantastically carved stick, evidently cut by somebody during his leisure. Dave picked this up and saw that it contained a heart, an anchor, a cross, several links of a chain, and some stars. At the big end of the stick was an American flag.

"h.e.l.lo, look here!" exclaimed the country boy. "This is strange, to say the least. I don't believe any native would cut a stick in this fashion."

"Neither do I," declared Phil. "That must have been carved by an American, and with his jack-knife. Perhaps some sailors were camping out here."

"To me this campfire, or what's left o' it, looks to be about a week old," said Billy Dill. "The question is, where did the crowd go to from here?"

"Maybe there were some Americans with those natives in that canoe,"

suggested Roger.

"In that case, the natives must be friendly," returned Phil.

They walked around the locality and down the sh.o.r.e half a mile further, but could find nothing more of interest. Then they sat down to enjoy the lunch they had brought, washing the meal down at a spring, close by where the campfire had been.

"It is wonderful that fresh water should be so close to the salt,"

observed the senator's son. "You'd think it would all get salt."

"Nature knew man wanted fresh water, and so it was placed there,"

replied Billy Dill. "Trust a kind Providence to take care on us every time."

After the meal the party set off for the opposite sh.o.r.e of the island, over a small hill which divided one end from the other. Here the jungle was so thick they had to literally force their way through, and each of the boys got his clothing torn more or less. Once the old tar became so completely fastened that the lads had to go to his a.s.sistance and cut him loose with their pocket-knives.

"I'm jest about anch.o.r.ed!" remarked Billy Dill. "This is worse nor the Sarga.s.so Sea, ain't it?"

By the middle of the afternoon they gained the opposite sh.o.r.e of the island. Here the ground was very rough, but at one spot they found the remains of a village--two houses of logs and half a dozen thatched huts.

The houses and huts were bare, and nothing of interest was to be found around the remains of half a dozen campfires.

"This shows that somebody lived here once upon a time," observed Phil.

"But it couldn't have been much of a population."

"Can't tell as to thet," came from the old sailor. "These natives live pretty thick sometimes, ten or a dozen in one hut--and a good many live right out under the trees."

Dave and Roger had pa.s.sed into one of the deserted log houses, and the country youth struck a match, that they might see around a little better. Somewhat to their astonishment, they saw pinned up on a wall a sheet of water-stained brown wrapping paper, upon which was drawn something of a map, with a heavy cross where two lines met.

"Here's a discovery!" cried Dave. "Wonder what this map was for?"

The others came in, and a minute later a torch was lit, and all examined the map with care. Then Roger uttered a cry:

"Dave, look there!" and the senator's son pointed to one corner of the map. In faint letters was the written name:

_Dunston A. Porter._

"The very man I am looking for!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Dave, and his heart gave a bound. "Oh, boys, what can it mean?"

"It means that Mr. Porter has been here," answered Roger.

"He must have been hunting for that treasure," said Phil. "This may be one of his maps."

"That's a fact," said Billy Dill. "He was always drawing jest such things when I was with him. He said he was bound to find that treasure some day."