The Lonely Pimento

"The writer of this strange ma.n.u.script," began Mr. Pearce, "was evidently an unlettered person, for it is filled with so many errors as to be difficult to get the author's meaning in many places. He was also a fugitive from justice.--I should judge, nearly all his life. He speaks of the diamond mines of Brazil and the h.o.a.rded treasures of the children of the sun in the same sentence. Then he goes on to describe a wonderful island that he discovered while hiding from pursuers under the shadows of the Andes in Tarapaca, Peru. Let me read:

"'I had come out of a dense growth of corkwood to look on a big body of water hemmed in by the mountains, when I saw some way from the sh.o.r.e a small island. I noticed it particularly on account of a solitary pimento tree standing in the centre, with a big rock at its foot.

"'I was hard pressed by my enemies, and seeing what I believed was a hole under the rock I swam out to the island. I did find plenty of room to hide in and my pursuers did not think of looking there for me, though they made the entire circuit of the water.

"'I stayed there two days before I dared to venture out, but it was not until I had decided to leave the place that I made the most wonderful discovery of my life.

"'The island, which was made up mostly of rocks, was fairly honey-combed with tunnels and underground pa.s.sages, little and big, every one of which was filled with gold!

"'Gold lay under my feet; gold on my left hand; gold on my right; gold overhead; gold everywhere! I knew from certain inscriptions that I could partly decipher that this hidden treasure was a part of the Incas wealth in the days of Pizzaro.

"'At first I was so bewildered by my discovery that I could do nothing, but finally I took as much of it as I could carry and left the place.

"'I was, as I thought, careful to note all of its surroundings so I could come again when I should wish to get the rest of my h.o.a.rd. I say I did this carefully, but a year and a half later when I came to get the rest of my treasure I could not find it. I could not even find the island, though I went over the ground from t.i.tocaca to Atacama a hundred times.

"'I could not even find the lake!

"'I felt sure I should know that pimento tree anywhere on account of its odd shape. It had three branches leaving the trunk, one of which ran up several feet higher than the others, a dead branch pointing to the northward like a skeleton finger. There was a rim of mountains around the lake, except for a break in the range on the north.

"'Since I have been there the whole mystery has been solved in my mind and I can see that the lonely pimento with its skeleton finger is the key. I was there during the wet--"

"The rest is missing," said Mr. Pearce, "but I have given you the substance of the illiterate scrawl in tolerable English as far as it remains. Looks as if the sheet had been torn apart. There is a fortune for you if you can only find it."

Mr. Pearce spoke somewhat lightly, but Jack could see that he was deeply interested in the account.

Our hero had been cautious enough not to let Fret Offut into the secret, knowing he could not be trusted.

"I believe I could find that wonderful island which plays at hide and seek if I were to try it," said Mr. Pearce. "What do you say to going fortune hunting?"

Naturally Jack's sanguine nature was thoroughly aroused and nothing could have suited him better, and from that time they discussed the lost island with its treasure at every opportunity they had when Fret was not with them.

There was one serious drawback to their plans.

It might be a long time before they would have an opportunity to leave the island where Robinson Crusoe had spent so many lonely years. During his stay there Jack explored every part of the island. He noticed that the soil had every promise of great fertility, but that even his friend had so far taken on the laziness of the Chilians that he cultivated as little as possible. This island had become a sort of rendezvous for the ships rounding Cape Horn, and many of them had contributed to its natural and animal wealth by planting orchards and sowing grains and in leaving there many domesticated creatures.

But at this season of the year it was likely to be considerable time before a vessel should touch there, and Jack had been on Robinson Crusoe's island a little over a month, before he found a chance to go to Valparaiso.

He was glad for the opportunity, but disappointed at the last moment to find that Mr. Pearce had concluded to give up going with him.

"Too much like work, Jack. You see I have fitted in here, and if we should find that treasure it would be of no earthly good to me as I am alone in the world. I hope you will find it, my lad, and that it will help you and Jenny to make a happy home. Good bye."

"Good bye," said Jack, as he pressed his friend's hand warmly, for he had grown to like the kindhearted gentleman.

Fret Offut nodded lightly to the other, as he entered the boat which was to take them to the vessel.

The trip to Valparaiso was uneventful, but there Jack met with a great disappointment.

The _Standish_ had left for its homeward voyage.

Thus Jack found himself left alone among strangers, save for the companionship of Fret Offut, who seemed disposed to hold aloof from him.

The other had refused to tell him the cause of his being hunted by the Chilians, though Jack suspected that it was in some way the result of his attack upon him. Fret had told enough in his sleep for our hero to know that he had been arrested for the deed, and that he had afterwards escaped. But Jack did not feel like saying anything to Fret about it, as long as he showed no inclination to mention the subject.

Knowing that it might be several months before he could return to his home and being short of money, Jack at once began to look about for an opportunity to earn a living. Unable to find anything to do in Valparaiso, he walked to Tocopilla, though Fret declined to accompany him.

In this town he found work as a machinist at the princely income of four Spanish dollars a week. But this was better than nothing and he went to work with a hearty good will.

He worked in Tocopilla steadily for a month. During the time he heard nothing from home or from Fret Offut.

He still kept the paper describing the mysterious island holding its vast, hidden treasure, but he had not felt like undertaking the long journey necessary to search for it.

Seeing no prospect of advance in his position, Jack was beginning to think of seeking his fortune elsewhere, when his whole future life was changed into a different groove by the appearance of a stranger at the place where he was working.

The newcomer was a Peruvian, who had been an engineer on a railroad running through the southern part of Peru, but had left to come to Tocopilla.

He and Jack soon became friends, when the latter said to him one day:

"What was the trouble with engineering, that you should leave to come here, where you can't begin to get the pay you did there?"

"The pay was good enough, but the shooting was better. I care more for my life than I do for a few silver doubloons."

"I am afraid I do not understand you. I was not aware that shooting and engineering went together."

"They do in the case of the St. Resa road, Jack."

"Tell me about it, Francis. I am interested."

"Then I can take out that interest shortly. The road runs through debatable ground from St. Resa to de la Pama. Not an inch of it but what is being hotly contested. But it isn't the regulars that make the trouble, for at present the territory belongs to Peru, though how soon she will lose it is not for me to say. It's the murderous bush-raiders that are making the trouble."

"Who are the bush-raiders?"

"That question shows a lamentable ignorance. The bush-raiders are bands of guerillas united to make war upon anybody and anything that crosses their path. They pretend to favor Chili, but they are merely using that for a cloak, and are robbers of the worst cla.s.s, outlawed by all governments. Of course you know that Chili and Peru are at war?"

"I have heard of it."

"Well, these bush-raiders, pretending to favor Chili, are making hot times all along the St. Resa. It is necessary to keep the road open if Peru hopes to hold the country, and the company are doing their best, backed by the government. They have had as many as twenty men on in the last six months.

"The three men on before me were killed by the bush-raiders, and the one before the first of them fell off and was killed while running the gantlet of fire set by the fiends."

"You say the road is all in Peru?"

"Yes, in Southern Peru. It runs through the nitrate regions. Bless me if I don't think there is a fortune in those mines if properly worked.

"Say, Jack, if you are dissatisfied with the money you are making here there is an opportunity for you. You are young and full of fire, just such a rash head as the bush-raiders like to get hold of. The company is offering as high as twenty pistoles a month for a man to run that engine.

More for one day than you get here in a week. But bless me, if every pistole was a doubloon and I had as many of them as I could carry I would not try another trip. What are a few paltry pistoles to a man's life?"

"I believe I would like to get that position as engineer on the St. Resa,"