The Frontier Boys in the Sierras Part 12

"Here, Skipper, I found this tied aft." Jim took it and recognized it at a glance.

"Ho! ho!" he cried, "this is some of Jo's work. He and Tom have been up to some devilment. I bet my sombrero that those two rascals were the ghosts you saw." But the old sailor did not want to give up the dubious honor of having seen some live spirits, and so he stuck to his story.

"But these were real ghosts, sir. I seen 'em with my two eyes, and their faces were white and green, like nothing human."

"He's shure roight, sor," declared the boy who had now put in a cautious appearance. "My grandfather has seen ghosts in his time."

Jim laughed and began an examination of the floor, whirling the light from the lantern slowly around until he came to some damp footprints in the middle of the floor.

"These ghosts must have worn moccasins," Jim remarked, "for if I don't mistake that is the sign of 'em, and they got their feet damp. You stay here long enough and you will probably hear them sneeze."

"But how was they complected that way?" questioned old Pete, his face growing very red with the possibility of his being made a fool of by a couple of kids.

"I guess they were bilious, those ghosts," remarked Jim, "or maybe it was sulphur they rubbed on. They once saw me scare some savages that way down in Hawaii."

"I call it a durned outrage, on an old man like me, to have a couple of fool kids play a trick like that. I hurt my leg too, Skipper."

"How was that?" inquired Jim, not without malice aforethought.

"Well, you see, it was this a way, Skipper," explained old Pete shamefacedly, "I seen this peculiar object or two in the forecastle, and I says to myself, 'The skipper ought to know about this,' so I jumps up and starts to report it to you----"

"I had the same thought, sor," cut in the boy.

"Yes, and he got in my way going up the ladder, and I fell and cut my leg." He showed the place to Jim, and the latter, though trying hard not to laugh at the old chap's explanations of his scare, was justly indignant when he saw that he was hurt.

"Those beggars must be hiding here," he said. "They certainly haven't got aft. We will soon root 'em out and I'll give them something to remember this performance by as long as they live."

Then began a systematic search of the forecastle. Of course they did not find Jo, for, as we know, he was safely hidden on deck, but Tom was in the forecastle, and was bound to be discovered sooner or later in so small a s.p.a.ce.

"Look under the bunks on that side, boys," said Jim, "I'll take this."

"Aye, aye, sir-sor," was the reply.

But after a most careful search, turning over blankets and bedding, no one was found. Jim swung the lantern under the dark ladder, but no one was there. Where could they be? They must be within a few feet of them and yet they could not see them.

"It's odd about them," remarked Jim, coming to a halt in the middle of the floor. "They seem to have vanished."

"I reckon it was ghosts, after all," said old Pete.

The only pieces of furniture in the place were a small trunk belonging to the boy, an impossible hiding place for lads the size of Jo or Tom--and Pete's battered old sea-chest. This latter Pete opened, it was not locked, and saw only a heap of old clothes.

"Not here, Skipper," he said, shutting down the lid with a snap.

"They must have got up on deck then," said Jim, puzzled.

So the party adjourned to the deck, Jim carrying the lantern to aid him in the search.

"What did you find?" roared the captain.

"It was Tom and Jo, sir," yelled Jim, "but we can't locate them. Have you seen them skulking aft, Captain?"

"n.o.body has gone by me," cried the captain. "They must be for'ard."

Just then Juarez joined in the search.

"Look in the bow," he advised, when he found how matters stood.

So paying no attention to the water and spray that came over the bow, they made their way forward, Jim in the lead with the lantern. He swung the light in among the chains, but a deep shadow cast by the lantern hid Jo, who laid low, making himself as small as possible, his head buried close to the deck.

But Juarez's keen eyes saw a dark object crouching in the furthest corner. He dived past Jim and caught hold of the cowering Jo and in spite of his struggles pulled him to the surface. Jo appeared like a much disheveled criminal when he was dragged out.

"Well," said Jim, "you are a pretty looking fellow. Where's your pal?"

"Tom?" questioned Jo grumpily. "He was in the forecastle when I saw him last."

"You will have to pay for this night's rumpus," warned Jim.

"Near made me break my leg," growled Pete, "with your foolin'." In spite of his present predicament Jo could not help laughing heartily at the recollection of old Pete and the boy scrambling like a couple of scared cats up the ladder of the forecastle.

"You won't feel so gay when we get through with you," said Jim. He marched him with a heavy hand to the cabin which he occupied, shoved the angry and resisting Joseph within and shut and locked the door.

Then they started out in a final search for Tom, the only one of this desperate gang of night marauders that now remained uncaptured.

"I declare, I don't know what has become of that boy," said Jim.

"He couldn't have fallen overboard?" questioned Juarez. Jim negatived that idea emphatically.

"Tom's too cautious for that," he said.

Where was he? The reader knows well enough, being an adept on solving all these mysteries. He was in old Pete's sea-chest hidden down under the clothes, and Pete, whose eyesight was not as good as it once was, had failed to see any sign of him. Now, when he heard Jim and the rest go on deck, he decided that it was time to get out of his uncomfortable prison, which was much too cramped.

What was his dismay to find that he was indeed a prisoner, for when old Pete had shut down the top of the chest it had fastened shut. Tom began to feel stifled for air, partly imagination on his part, and partly fact. It was true that some air could get in, through where the rope handles went, but not much. Tom struggled till he got his hand in his pocket, hoping to find his knife with which he would cut the rope handles and push the pieces through the holes and thus get enough air to sustain life, but as luck would have it, his knife was not there.

He began to pant now, and gasp and think of all the horrible tales he had ever read of people being buried alive and of similar tragedies, until he was almost hysterical. He yelled for help, but his voice was m.u.f.fled, and besides there was none to hear. He tried to attract attention by beating with his hands against the top of the chest.

After what seemed an interminable time, the half-fainting Tom heard feet clattering down the steep ladder into the forecastle, and this brought him partially to.

"Jim, get me out," he cried, and his voice came feebly to the ears of the searchers.

"I heard Tom," cried Juarez.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "TOM DID NOT TRY TO MAKE HIS ESCAPE."--P. 119.]

"Sounded like a cat mewing," remarked the unfeeling Jim. "Listen."

Again they heard it and a faint pounding inside the sea-chest.

"He's in that chest," cried Jim, and he tried to open it.

"Locked in," said Juarez. "Let Pete open it."