The Boy
Fortune Hunters
in Yucatan

By
FLOYD AKERS

Author of
“The Boy Fortune Hunters in Alaska”
“The Boy Fortune Hunters in Panama”
“The Boy Fortune Hunters in Egypt”
“The Boy Fortune Hunters in China”

CHICAGO
THE REILLY & BRITTON CO.
PUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT 1910 BY
THE REILLY & BRITTON CO.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE I [We Meet Lieutenant Allerton] 9 II [We Listen to a Strange Proposition] 26 III [We Undertake the Yucatan Adventure] 39 IV [We Scent Danger Ahead] 55 V [We Inspect a Novel Aerial Invention] 65 VI [We See an Astonishing Thing] 72 VII [We Outwit the Enemy] 80 VIII [We Fight a Good Fight] 95 IX [We Find Ourselves Outnumbered] 105 X [We Escape Annihilation] 113 XI [We Enter the City of Itza] 125 XII [We Sight the Quarry] 137 XIII [We Seek Safety in Flight] 150 XIV [We Interview the Red-Beard] 164 XV [We Become Prisoners of the Tcha] 179 XVI [We View the Hidden City] 191 XVII [We are Condemned by the Tribunal] 204 XVIII [We Argue with the High Priestess] 214 XIX [We Save a Valuable Life] 231 XX [We Find the Tcha Grateful] 239 XXI [We Lose Poor Pedro] 254 XXII [We Face a Deadly Peril] 265 XXIII [We Become Aggressive] 277 XXIV [We Witness a Daring Deed] 287 XXV [We Repel the Invaders] 298 XXVI [We Hear Strange News] 314 XXVII [We Settle an Old Score] 332 XXVIII [We Win and Lose] 340

The Boy
Fortune Hunters
in Yucatan

CHAPTER I
WE MEET LIEUTENANT ALLERTON

“What do you say, Sam, to making a stop at Magdalena Bay?” asked Uncle Naboth, as we stood on the deck of the Seagull, anchored in Golden Gate Harbor.

“Magdalena!” I exclaimed; “why, it’s a wilderness.”

“I know,” he replied; “but the torpedo fleet is there, doin’ target practice, an’ Admiral Seebre has asked us to drop some mail an’ dispatches there, as well as a few supplies missed by the transport that left last Tuesday.”

“Oh, Admiral Seebre,” I rejoined. “That puts a different face on the matter. We’ll stop anywhere the admiral wants us to.” Merchantmen though we are, none of us can fail in genuine admiration for Uriel Seebre, the most typical sea dog on earth—or on water, rather.

So we waited to ship the supplies and mail, and by sunset were shrouded in golden glory as we slowly steamed out of the harbor and headed south.

It’s a pretty trip. Past old Santa Barbara, the man-made harbor of San Pedro—the port of Los Angeles—and along the coast of beautiful Coronado, we hugged the shore line to enjoy the splendid panorama of scenery; but once opposite the Mexican coast we stood out to sea until, three days afterward, we made Magdalena Bay and dropped anchor amid the rakish, narrow-nosed fleet of the torpedo flotilla.

There isn’t much to see at Magdalena. The bay itself is fairly attractive, but the shore is uninteresting and merely discloses a motley group of frame and adobe huts. Yet here the Pacific Squadron comes semiannually to practise target shooting.

As it was four o’clock when our anchor reeled out we decided to lie in the bay until sunrise next morning. We signaled “mail and supplies” and two boats put out from the Paul Jones, the flagship of the miniature but formidable fleet, and soon boarded us. They were in charge of Lieutenant Paul Allerton, whom we found a very decent fellow, without a hint of that contempt for merchantmen affected by so many Annapolis fledglings.

We soon had the stores lowered—they were not many—and delivered the mail pouch and dispatch box, getting a formal receipt for them. As supercargo and purser, I attended to this business personally.

“I’m glad to have met you, Mr. Steele,” said Lieutenant Allerton, “and to have seen your famous boat, the Seagull. We’ve heard a good deal of your curious adventures, you know.”

I laughed, and Uncle Naboth Perkins, who stood beside me, remarked:

“Our days of adventure are about over, I guess, Mr. Allerton.”

“Have you bagged so much treasure you are ready to retire?” asked the officer.

“It isn’t that,” replied my uncle. “We’ve been tramps a long time, an’ sailed in many seas; but the life’s a bit too strenuous for us, so’s to speak. These boys o’ ours are reckless enough to git us inter a heap o’ trouble, an’ keep us there, too, if we didn’t call a halt. So, seein’ as life counts for more’n anything else, Cap’n Steele an’ I hev made the youngsters turn over a new leaf. We’re now on our way to the Atlantic, ’round the Horn, an’ perpose to do peaceful tradin’ from now on.”

Allerton listened with thoughtful interest. He seemed on the point of saying something in return, but hesitated and then touched his cap.

“I must be going, gentlemen. You know how grateful we exiles are for the mail and tinned stuff, and I tender the thanks of the fleet for your courtesy.”

Then he went away and we considered the incident closed.

We were a strangely assorted group as we congregated on the deck of our beautiful craft the Seagull, after dinner that evening, and perhaps here is an excellent opportunity to introduce ourselves to the reader.

Our ship, which we believe has been termed “the pride of the merchant marine,” was constructed under our personal supervision, and sails or steams as we desire. It is about a thousand-tons burden, yacht built, and as trim as a man-o’-war. It is commanded by my father, Captain Richard Steele, one of the most experienced and capable sailors of his time. He is one-third owner, and I have the same interest, being proud to state that I furnished my share of the money from funds I had personally earned. Uncle Naboth Perkins, my dead mother’s only brother, owns the remaining third.

Uncle Naboth is a “natural born trader” and a wonder in his way. He isn’t a bit of a practical sailor, but has followed the seas from his youth and has won the confidence and esteem of every shipper who ever entrusted a cargo to his care. He has no scholastic learning but is very wise in mercantile ways and is noted for his sterling honesty.

My father has a wooden leg; he is old and his face resembles ancient parchment. He uses words only for necessary expression, yet his reserve is neither morose nor disagreeable. He knows how to handle the Seagull in any emergency and his men render him alert obedience because they know that he knows.

I admit that I am rather young to have followed the seas for so long. I can’t well object to being called a boy, because I am a boy in years, and experience hasn’t made my beard grow or added an inch to my height. My position on the Seagull is that of purser and assistant supercargo. In other words, I keep the books, check up the various cargoes, render bills and pay our expenses. I know almost as little of navigation as Uncle Naboth, who is the most important member of our firm because he makes all our contracts with shippers and attends to the delivery of all cargoes.

Over against the rail stands Ned Britton, our first mate. Ned is father’s right bower. They have sailed together many years and have acquired a mutual understanding and respect. Ned has been thoroughly tested in the past: a blunt, bluff sailor-man, as brave as a lion and as guileless as a babe. His strong point is obeying orders and doing his duty on all occasions.

Here is our second mate, too, squatted on a coil of rope just beside me—a boy a year or two younger than I am myself. I may as well state right here that Joe Herring is a mystery to me, and I’m the best and closest friend he has in all the world. He is long and lanky, a bit tall for his age and has muscles like steel. He moves slowly; he speaks slowly; he spends hours in silent meditation. Yet I have seen this boy in action when he moved swift as a lightning bolt—not striking at random, either, but with absolute intelligence.

Once Joe was our cabin boy, promoted to that station from a mere waif. Now he is second mate, with the full respect of Captain Steele, Ned Britton and the entire crew. He wears a common sailor suit, you’ll notice, with nothing to indicate his authority. When he is on duty things go like clockwork.

And now I shall probably startle you by the statement that Joe is the rich man, the financial autocrat, of all our little group. His bank account is something to contemplate with awe and reverence. He might own a dozen more expensive ships than the Seagull, yet I question if you could drive him away from her deck without making the lad absolutely miserable. Money counts for little with Joe; his associates and his simple if somewhat adventurous life completely satisfy him.

Reclining at my feet is a burly youth rejoicing in the name of Archibald Sumner Ackley. He isn’t a sailor; he isn’t a passenger even; Archie is just a friend and a chum of Joe’s and mine, and he happens to be aboard just because he won’t quit and go home to his anxious parents in Boston.

I fear that at the moment of this introduction Archie doesn’t show up to the best advantage. The boy is chubby and stout and not exactly handsome of feature. He wears a gaudy checked flannel shirt, no cravat, yellowish green knickerbockers, and a brown jacket so marvelously striped with green that it reminds one of a prison garb. I never can make out where Archie manages to find all his “striking” effects in raiment; I’m sure no other living being would wear such clothes. If any one ever asks: “Where’s Archie?” Uncle Naboth has a whimsical way of putting his hand to his ear and saying: “Hush; listen!”

With all this I’m mighty fond of Archie, and so are we all. Once on a time we had to get used to his peculiarities, for he is stubborn as a mule, denies any one’s right to dictate to him and is bent on having his own way, right or wrong. But the boy is true blue in any emergency; faithful to his friends, even to death; faces danger with manly courage and is a tower of strength in any encounter. He sails with the Seagull because he likes the life and can’t be happy, he claims, away from Joe and me.

And now you know all of us on the quarter deck, and I’ll just say a word about our two blacks, Nux and Bryonia. They are South Sea Islanders, picked up by Uncle Naboth years ago and devoted now to us all—especially to my humble self. We’ve been together in many adventures, these ebony skinned men and I, and more than once I have owed my life to their fidelity. Nux is cabin master and steward; he’s the stockiest of the big fellows. Bryonia is ship’s cook, and worthy the post of chef at Sherry’s. He can furnish the best meal from the least material of any one I’ve ever known, and with our ample supplies you may imagine we live like pigs in clover aboard the Seagull.

Our crew consists of a dozen picked and tested men, all but one having sailed with us ever since the ship was launched. We lost a man on the way back from China a while ago, and replaced him in San Francisco with a stalwart, brown-skinned Mexican, Pedro by name. He wasn’t one of the lazy, “greaser” sort, but an active fellow with an intelligent face and keen eyes. Captain Hildreth of the Anemone gave us the man, and said he had given good service on two long voyages. But Pedro had had enough of the frozen north by that time and when he heard we were short a man begged to join us, knowing we were headed south. Captain Hildreth, who is our good friend, let us have him, and my father is pleased with the way the Mexican does his work.

The Seagull was built for commerce and has been devoted mainly to commerce; yet we do not like the tedium of regular voyages between given ports and have been quite successful in undertaking “tramp” consignments of freight to be delivered in various far-off foreign lands. During these voyages we have been led more than once into dangerous “side” adventures, and on our last voyage Joe, Archie and I had barely escaped with our lives—and that by the merest chance—while engaged in one of these reckless undertakings. It was this incident that caused Uncle Naboth and my father to look grave and solemn whenever their eyes fell upon us three, and while we lay anchored in San Francisco harbor they announced to me their decision to avoid any such scrapes in the future by undertaking to cover a regular route between Cuba and Key West, engaging in the tobacco and cigar trade.

I did not fancy this arrangement very much, but was obliged to submit to my partners and superiors. Archie growled that he would “quit us cold” at the first Atlantic port, but intended to accompany us around the Horn, where there might be a “little excitement” if bad weather caught us. Joe merely shrugged his shoulders and refrained from comment. And so we started from the Golden Gate en route for Cuba, laden only with our necessary stores for ballast, although our bunkers were full of excellent Alaska coal.

The stop in Magdalena Bay would be our last one for some time; so, being at anchor, with no duties of routine confronting us, we sat on deck enjoying the beautiful tropical evening and chatting comfortably while the sailors grouped around the forecastle and smoked their pipes with unalloyed and unaccustomed indolence.

The lights of the near-by torpedo fleet were beginning to glimmer in the gathering dusk when a small boat boarded us and we were surprised to see Lieutenant Allerton come on board again and approach our company. This time, however, he wore civilian’s clothes instead of his uniform.

Greeting us with quiet respect he asked:

“May I sit down, gentlemen? I’d like a little talk with you.”

Captain Steele pointed to a chair at his side.

“You are very welcome, sir,” he answered.

Allerton sat down.

“The despatches you brought,” said he, “conveyed to me some joyful news. I have been granted a three months’ leave of absence.”

As he paused I remarked, speaking for us all:

“You are to be congratulated, Lieutenant. Isn’t that a rather unusual leave?”

“Indeed it is,” he returned, laughingly. “I’ve been trying for it for nearly two years, and it might not have been allowed now had I not possessed an influential friend at Washington—my uncle, Simeon Wells.”

“Simeon Wells!” ejaculated Uncle Naboth. “What, the great electrician who is called ‘the master Wizard’?”

“I believe my uncle has gained some distinction in electrical inventions,” was the modest reply.

“Distinction! Why, I’m told he can skin old Edison to a frazzle,” remarked Archie, who was not very choice in his selection of words, as he rolled over upon his back and looked up at the officer wonderingly. “Didn’t Wells invent the great storage battery ‘multum in parvo’, and the new aeroplane motors?”

“Uncle Simeon is not very ambitious for honor,” said Mr. Allerton quietly. “He has given the government the control of but few—a very few—of his really clever electrical devices. His greatest delight he finds in inventing. When he has worked out a problem and brought it to success he cares little what becomes of it. That, I suppose, is the mark of an unpractical genius—unpractical from a worldly sense. Still, his relations with the government, limited as they are, proved greatly to my advantage; for when he found my heart was set on this leave of absence, he readily obtained it.”

“The request of Simeon Wells ought to accomplish much more than that, considering his invaluable services,” I suggested.

“For that reason he has warned me he will not interfere again in my behalf,” answered Allerton; “so I must make the most of this leave. It is this consideration that induced me to come to see you to-night.”

We remained silent, waiting for him to proceed.

“I understood from what you said this afternoon that you are bound for Cuba, by way of the Horn,” he resumed, after a moment of thought.

Captain Steele nodded.

“You have a fast ship, you leave immediately, and you are going very near to my own destination,” continued Allerton. “Therefore, I have come to ask if you will accept me as a passenger.”

I cast an inquiring glance at Uncle Naboth, and after meeting his eye replied:

“We do not carry passengers, Lieutenant Allerton; but it will please us to have you accept such hospitality as we can offer on the voyage. You will be a welcome guest.”

He flushed, as I could see under the light of the swinging lantern: for evening had fallen with its usual swift tropical custom. And I noticed, as well, that Mr. Allerton seemed undecided how to handle what was evidently an unexpected situation.

“I—I wanted to take my man with me,” he stammered.

“Your servant, sir?”

“One of our seamen, whose leave I obtained with my own. He is a Maya from Yucatan.”

“Bring him along, sir,” said my father, heartily; “it’s all the same to us.”

“Thank you,” he returned, and then sat silent, swinging his cap between his hands. Allerton had a thin, rather careworn face, for so young a man, for he could not be more than thirty at most. He was of medium height, of athletic build, and carried himself erect—a tribute to his training at the Naval Academy and his service aboard ship. There was something in the kindly expression of his deep-set, dark eyes and the pleasantly modulated tones of his voice that won our liking, and I am sure we were sincere in declaring he would be a welcome guest on the ensuing voyage.

“I—I have several boxes—chests,” he said, presently.

“We’ve room for a cargo, sir,” responded Uncle Naboth.

“At what hour do you sail?” inquired Allerton, seeming well pleased by our consideration for him.

“Daybreak, sir.”

“Then may we come aboard to-night?”

“Any hour you like,” said I. It was Joe’s watch, so I introduced him more particularly to our second mate, as well as to the other members of our party.

“Shall we send for you, Mr. Allerton?” asked Joe.

“Oh, no,” he replied. “The ship’s boat will bring me aboard, thank you. The boys are sorry to see me go so suddenly, but I feel I must take advantage of this fortunate occasion to secure passage. I might wait here a week or two before any sort of tub came this way, and I need every minute of my leave. Cuba lies only a hundred and twenty miles across the channel from Yucatan.”

With this he returned to the torpedo boat he served, and so accustomed were we to little surprises of this nature that we paid small heed to the fact that we had accepted an unlooked for addition to our party for the long voyage that loomed ahead of us. We were quite a happy family aboard the Seagull, and Lieutenant Allerton appeared to be a genial fellow who would add rather than detract from the association we enjoyed.

CHAPTER II
WE LISTEN TO A STRANGE PROPOSITION

I did not hear our passengers come aboard that night, being sound asleep. By the time I left my room next morning we were under way and steaming briskly over one of those quiet seas for which the Pacific is remarkable.

In the main cabin I found Lieutenant Allerton sitting at breakfast with Captain Steele, Uncle Naboth and Archie. Joe was snoozing after his late watch and Ned Britton was on deck. Behind our guest’s chair stood the handsomest Indian I have ever seen, the Maya he had mentioned to us and whose name was Chaka. Our South Sea Islanders were genuine black men, but Chaka’s skin was the color of golden copper. He had straight black hair, but not the high cheek bones of the typical American Indian, and the regularity of his features was certainly remarkable. His eyes were large, frank in expression and dark brown in color; he seemed intelligent and observant but never spoke unless first addressed, and then in modest but dignified tones. His English was expressive but not especially fluent, and it was easy to understand that he had picked up the language mainly by hearing it spoken.

My first glance at Chaka interested me in the fellow, yet of course during that first meeting I discovered few of the characteristics I have described. At this time he was silent and motionless as a statue save when opportunity offered to serve his master.

The lieutenant wore this morning a white duck mess costume for which he apologized by saying that his civilian wardrobe was rather limited, and if we would pardon the formality he would like to get all the wear from his old uniforms that was possible, during the voyage.

We told him to please himself. I thought he looked more manly and imposing in naval uniform than in “cits.”

“But I don’t see how he can be shy of clothes,” remarked Archie, after breakfast, as we paced the deck together. “Allerton lugged seven big boxes aboard last night; I saw them come up the side; and if they don’t contain his togs I’d like to know what on earth they do hold.”

“That’s none of our affair, Archie,” I remarked.

“Do you think this thing is all straight and above board, Sam?” asked my friend.

“Of course, Archie. He’s a lieutenant in the United States navy, and has a regular leave of absence. He joined us with the approval and good will of his commander.”

“I know; but it seems queer, somehow. Take that copper-faced fellow, for instance, who looks more like a king than a servant; what has Allerton got such a body guard as that for? I never knew any other naval officer to have the like. And three months’ leave—on private business. Suff’rin’ Pete! what’s that for?”

“You might ask the lieutenant,” I replied, indifferently.

“Then there’s the boxes; solid redwood and clamped with brass; seven of ’em! What’s in ’em, Sam, do you suppose?”

“Archie boy, you’re getting unduly suspicious. And you’re minding some one else’s business. Get the quoits and I’ll toss a game with you.”

Our passenger was very quiet during the following day or two. He neither intruded nor secluded himself, but met us frankly when we were thrown together, listened carefully to our general conversation, and refrained from taking part in it more than politeness required.

Joe thought the young fellow seemed thoughtful and ill at ease, and confided to me that he had noticed Allerton now made more of a companion of the Maya than a dependant, although the man, for his part, never abated his deferent respect. Chaka seemed to regard Allerton with the love and fidelity of a dog for its master; yet if any of the sailors, or even Nux or Bryonia, spoke to the Indian with undue familiarity Chaka would draw himself up proudly and assume the pose of a superior.

We were much interested in the personality of these two unusual personages—that is, Joe, Archie and I were—and we often discussed them among ourselves. We three boys, being chums of long standing, were much together and had come to understand one another pretty well. We all liked Paul Allerton, for there was something winning in his personality. As for the Indian, Chaka, he did not repel us as much as he interested and fascinated us. One night big Bry, whom we admitted to perfect familiarity because of his long service, said to us:

“That Maya no common Injun, Mars’ Sam, yo’ take my word. He say his country Yucatan, an’ that place Yucatan don’ mean nuthin’ to me, nohow, ’cause I never been there. But, wherever it is, Chaka’s people mus’ be good people, an’ Chaka hisself never had any other marsa than Mars’ Allerton.”

“He has been serving in the navy, Bry.”

“That don’ count, sah. Yo’ know what I mean.”

On the evening of the third day out from Magdalena we were clustered as usual upon the deck, amusing ourselves by casual conversation, when Lieutenant Allerton approached us and said:

“I’d like to have a few moments’ confidential talk with whoever is in authority here. It’s rather hard for a stranger to determine who that may be, as you all seem alike interested in the career of the Seagull. But of course some one directs your policies and decides upon your business ventures, and that is the person I ought properly to address.”

We were a little puzzled and astonished by this speech. Uncle Naboth removed his pipe from his lips to say:

“This group is pretty near a partnership, sir, seein’ as we’ve been through good and bad luck together many times an’ learned how to trust each other as brave an’ faithful comrades. We haven’t any secrets, as I knows on; an’ if so be you talked in private to any one of us, he’d be sure to call a meetin’ an’ tell the others. So, if you’ve anything to say about the ship, or business matters, or anything that ain’t your own personal concern, set right down here an’ tell it now, an’ we’ll all listen the best we know how.”

Allerton followed this speech gravely and at first appeared embarrassed and undecided. I saw him cast a quick glance into Chaka’s eyes, and the Maya responded with a stately nod. Then the lieutenant sat down in the center of our group and said:

“I thank you, gentlemen, for your kindness. It would seem that I have imposed upon your good nature sufficiently already; yet here I am, about to ask another favor.”

“Go on, sir,” said my father, with an encouraging nod.

“From what I have been able to learn,” continued the lieutenant, in his quiet voice, “your ship is at this moment unchartered. You are bound for Havana, where you expect to make a lucrative contract to carry merchandise between that port and Key West; mostly, of course, leaf tobacco. Is that true?”

“It’s quite correct, sir,” said Uncle Naboth.

“In that case, there is no harm in my making you a business proposition. I want to land on the east coast of Yucatan, at a place little known and seldom visited by ships. It will take you a couple of hundred miles out of your course.”

For a few moments no one spoke. Then Captain Steele said:

“A trip like that, Mr. Allerton, involves a certain amount of expense to us. But we’re free, as far as our time is concerned, and we’ve plenty of coal and supplies. The question is, how much are you willing to pay for the accommodation?”

A slight flush crept over Allerton’s cheek.

“Unfortunately, sir,” he replied, “I have very little ready money.”

His tone was so crestfallen that I felt sorry for him, and Joe turned quickly and said:

“That’s unlucky, sir; but I’ve some funds that are not in use just now, and if you’ll permit me to loan you whatever you require I shall be very happy to be of service.”

“Or,” added Uncle Naboth, carelessly, “you can pay us some other time; whenever you’re able.”

Allerton looked around him, meeting only sympathetic faces, and smiled.

“But this is not business—not at all!” said he. “I did not intend to ask for financial assistance, gentlemen.”

“What did you intend, Mr. Allerton?” I inquired.

He refrained from answering the direct question at once, evidently revolving in his mind what he should say. Then he began as follows:

“Ever since I came aboard I have had a feeling that I am among friends; or, at least, congenial spirits. I am embarked on a most Quixotic adventure, gentlemen, and more and more I realize that in order to accomplish what I have set out to do I need assistance—assistance of a rare and practical sort that you are well qualified to furnish. But it is necessary, in order that you understand me and my proposition fully, that I should tell you my story in detail. If I have your kind permission I will at once do so.”

It began to sound interesting, especially in the ears of us three boys who loved adventure. I think he could read the eagerness in our eyes; but he looked earnestly at Captain Steele, who said:

“Fire ahead, Mr. Allerton.”

He obeyed, seeming to choose his words carefully, so as to make the relation as concise as possible.

“My home is in a small New Hampshire town where the Allertons have been the most important family for many generations. I was born in the same room—I think in the same bed—that my father and grandfather were born in. We had a large farm, or estate, and a fine old homestead that was, and is, the pride of the country. We have until recently been considered wealthy; but my poor father in some way acquired a speculative passion which speedily ruined him. On his death, while I was yet a cadet at Annapolis, it was found that all the land and investments he had inherited were gone; indeed, all that was left was the homestead with a few acres surrounding it.

“My mother and my two maiden sisters, one a confirmed invalid and both much older than I, found themselves wholly without resources to support themselves. In this emergency an old lawyer—a friend of the family, who I imagine has little keen ability in business matters, advised my mother to mortgage the place to secure funds for living expenses. It seemed really necessary, for the three forlorn women were unequal to the task of earning their living in any way.

“When this first fund was exhausted they mortgaged the homestead again, and still again; and although they had lived simply and economically, in twelve years the old place has become so plastered with mortgages that it is scarcely worth their face value. Little can be saved from a second lieutenant’s pay, yet I have been able to send something to the dear ones at home, which only had the effect of staving off the inevitable crisis for a time. Uncle Simeon, too, has helped them when he remembered it and had money; but he is a man quite impractical in money matters and the funds required for his electrical experiments are so great that he is nearly as poor as I am. Very foolishly he refuses to commercialize his inventions.

“Conditions at home have naturally grown worse instead of better, and now the man who holds the mortgages on the homestead has notified my mother that he will foreclose when next they fall due, in about four months’ time from now. Such is the condition of my family at home, and you may well imagine, my friends, how unhappy their misfortunes and necessities have made me. As the climax of their sad fortunes drew near I have tried to find some means to assist them. It has occupied my thoughts by day and night. But one possible way of relief has occurred to me, suggested by Chaka. It is a desperate chance, perhaps; still, it is a chance, and I have resolved to undertake it.”

He paused for a moment; but no one cared to speak, although we were much interested in the story.

“Nine years ago,” continued Lieutenant Allerton, “while I was ensign on the Maryland, we were cruising on the east coast of the promontory of Yucatan when one evening we observed a small boat being sculled rapidly toward the ship by a young native the color of bronze, who was naked except for a loin cloth. After him darted a motley crowd of boats, in hot pursuit, the occupants screaming wild invectives at their escaping prey.

“Our captain ordered a gig lowered and I was sent out in it, met the fugitive, and took him aboard. We managed to regain the ship before the frantic natives could reach us. However, they shot a myriad of poisoned darts at us and were only driven off when a volley from our men sent them scurrying back to shore in a panic.

“The young fellow I had rescued was Chaka. He seemed to consider me his especial preserver and attached himself to me with a persistency that induced the captain to let me have him in my own room, where we soon became friends. Chaka is very intelligent, as you have doubtless observed. I taught him English and he taught me the Maya tongue. When, some months after, I was transferred, I managed to take Chaka with me and have him enrolled as a seaman. We have been together nine years, and we are better friends than at first.”

He looked up at the Maya, who bowed gravely in acknowledgment.

CHAPTER III
WE UNDERTAKE THE YUCATAN ADVENTURE

“I have learned all of Chaka’s history, as he has learned all of mine,” continued Allerton, resuming his story. “My friend is a royal prince of the Itzaex, the one native tribe of Yucatan that defied the Spanish invaders of the Sixteenth Century and remains unconquered to this day. This tribe dwells in the vast sierras of Yucatan, near the Great Lake, and the Atkayma of the Itzaex has the same importance and power as the Inca of Peru or the Caciques of the Aztecs formerly enjoyed. Chaka is the eldest son of the ruling atkayma; by this time he may even have succeeded to the title of atkayma himself, the head of his people, for his father was an old man when the boy left him. The family of rulers is a sacred one, said to be descended from the sun, and every one of the atkayma’s fifty thousand subjects would die for him without hesitation.

“At the time I rescued Chaka he was an adventurous youth who, ignorant of the name of fear, was leading a band of his people on an expedition to the seacoast, in search of turtles. In some way he became separated from his companions and found himself surrounded by a horde of Mopanes, the hereditary tribal foes of the Itzaex. I am sure the boy rendered a good account of himself before he was forced to leap into a boat and scull out to sea, where his sharp eyes had noted our ship approaching. He had been bred with a horror for the white man, but preferred to take his chances with us rather than be cut down by the Mopanes.

“When he came to know us, and to understand our advanced civilization, the youth decided that he preferred it to the wild, crude life of his own people, and has gladly sacrificed his royal heritage to remain with me. Our friendship has been very sweet to us both, and we are as brothers.”

It was good to watch the Maya’s face during this tribute. His pride in his friend and his devotion to him might easily be read in the tender and unabashed expression of his handsome brown eyes.

“And now,” said Allerton, “I come to the most important part of my story. When Chaka learned of the sore straights of my dear mother and sisters, and found how unhappy the lack of wealth was making us all, he became brooding and thoughtful, and finally proposed to me a plan which, if successful, would enable me to redeem the old homestead, provide my family with every comfort, and give me ample means besides. It is a bold—even an audacious—conception; but it may be accomplished, nevertheless, with Chaka’s aid. I have decided to undertake it, and have been preparing for the expedition for more than a year. The last thing necessary was my leave of absence, and this you brought to me at Magdalena with the admiral’s despatches.”

You may guess that by this time Archie, Joe and I were wide-eyed and open-mouthed with interest in this remarkable story. We could hardly wait for the lieutenant to explain his references to the adventure on which he had embarked, and he seemed to appreciate this and did not keep us waiting.

“The Maya tribes, which had inhabited Yucatan for centuries before the Spaniards discovered the country,” said he, “were not, after all, the original inhabitants of the promontory. Ancient ruins of the cities and temples of the Mayas, equaling in beauty and size any of those erected by the Aztecs of Mexico, may yet be seen scattered over the land. Their civilization, customs, laws and literature amazed the early Spaniards who found them. Yet long before the Mayas came a civilization had existed in Yucatan greater than any they could ever boast. The legends of Chaka’s people, the unconquered Itzaex, relate how the country was first settled by a race from Atlantis, a great island continent which was later submerged and utterly destroyed by some unusual convulsion of nature.

“This nation from Atlantis bore the name of Tcha. It settled in the mountainous regions of Yucatan, covering originally all that territory now occupied by the Itzaex, the Mopanes and the Kupules, midway between Campeache and the Mosquito Coast. There they built great cities of white marble, exquisitely carved, many of the walls bearing hieroglyphics and picture writings not unlike those of the ancient Egyptians. They were learned in arts and sciences and had their libraries and colleges. They worshipped the Sun-God—the original deity of the Atlanteans—and also Bacáb, a god afterward adopted by the Mayas, who supported the heavens on his shoulders. The rulers of the Tcha were all chosen from the priesthood, the highest caste among them, and were male or female, as the case might be.

“Chaka tells me that when the Mayas came to Yucatan they found all these cities deserted and falling to ruins. Only skeletons, lying here and there in the streets, and found in great numbers in the dwellings, showed that the palatial buildings had ever known inhabitants. There is a great mystery concerning these deserted cities. Some think a pestilence fell upon the people and destroyed them; others that a rain of scorpions depopulated the country. Nothing remained, seemingly, to tell the fate of this mighty vanished race. The Mayas, being superstitious, were afraid to occupy the marble cities. They tore down the walls and used the materials for their own inferior buildings. Scarce a vestige now remains of the ancient civilization of the Tcha. Yet, according to Chaka, a remnant of that wonderful people still exists, in much the same way that it did six thousand years ago; and strange as it may seem, inhabits a hidden city in the mountains of Yucatan.”

I had been getting a little weary of the historical lecture; but now I saw why Allerton had related it. A tribe of Atlanteans six thousand years old, and living in a hidden city of Yucatan! Yes; we were all intent enough by this time. It seemed like a fairy romance, yet the words were uttered with careful deliberation. I glanced at Chaka; the grave look upon the Maya’s face was ample confirmation that he at least believed in the truth of this marvelous statement.

“This remnant of the Tcha was never discovered by the Spaniards,” continued Mr. Allerton, “and even the many tribes of the Mayas remain to-day ignorant of their presence in Yucatan. It is certain the owners of the various haciendas dotting the plains at the west and north have never heard of the hidden city. But the hereditary Atkayma of the Itzaex has had the knowledge for centuries, and kept the secret even from his own people. In return for this protection the Tcha have given to the rulers of the Itzaex certain powers which have enabled them to resist all attacks upon their domain and to remain free and unconquered to this day.

“There are not many of the ancient race of Tcha, and they live so secluded in their mountain fastness that nothing definite is known concerning them. When Chaka’s father was a young man he, with a band of followers, unconsciously invaded the territory of the Tcha and climbed the mountain near their sacred retreat. The atkayma and his men were promptly seized and carried into the hidden city, where all were destroyed except the Itzaex ruler. He was, after taking a solemn oath, allowed to return to his people, so that by means of his authority he might prevent any further intrusion on the part of his subjects.

“When Chaka was old enough to understand these things his father, the old atkayma, confided to him this story, at the same time urging him, when he in turn became the ruler of his nation, to protect the Tcha from discovery or molestation. One thing that Chaka especially remembers is his father’s description of the enormous wealth of the hidden city, where the streets were literally lined with gold and all ornaments and utensils were of the same precious metal. Brilliant red jewels, probably rubies, seemed as common as pebbles elsewhere. The Itzaex are a simple people, caring little for gold or gems, so the treasure of the Tcha has never tempted them.

“And now, gentlemen, I think you will understand from this brief relation the adventure upon which Chaka and I have embarked. My friend will guide me to his people, the Itzaex, and from there we will make a descent on the hidden city of the ancient Tcha and collect such treasure as we are able.”

I drew a long breath, while Archie, Joe and I stared into one another’s eyes. How curious it seemed that just at this juncture, when we had supposed we were through with fortune hunting for good and all, this alluring tale was suddenly told us. We were eager to know what would follow, for it was evident that Allerton would not have told us so much had he not, as indeed he had hinted, desired our assistance.

Uncle Naboth grunted as he shifted uneasily on his deck chair. Uncle is a brave old fellow, and adventurous, too; but he is getting old, and has enough means to render him rather indifferent to treasure seeking.

My father seldom allows his feelings to be detected from his expression. He has a way of wiggling that wooden leg of his from side to side that often tells me his mood; but he is accustomed to restrain all speech until he has fully made up his mind, after which it is very difficult to move him.

Fortunately, I thought, the leg did not now indicate that he was much disturbed. He actually seemed interested in the lieutenant’s recital and was at present slowly revolving it in his mind.

“I s’pose, sir,” began Uncle Naboth, “you’d like us to drop you on the coast, near to where you’ll find Chaka’s people. We’ll do that. But as fer waitin’ to pick you up, when you’re ready to quit, why that’s a hard thing to figger on, seein’ no one knows how long the job’ll take you, or if you’ll ever get away at all.”

Mr. Allerton did not reply at once. When he did his voice trembled a little, as if the matter he was about to broach were of vital importance to him.

“I want to make you a proposition, gentlemen,” he said, addressing us all, “and I hope you will consider it carefully before rejecting it. There is untold wealth in the secluded city of the Tcha. If we are going there to plunder we may as well take enough to make every one of us rich. Yet my idea is not to rob that ancient people, but to obtain a portion of their gold and jewels by fair means. They have an ancient superstition that if a white man ever discovers their retreat he will become their master—second only in power to the Sun-God. Even the priests must bow before him and admit his supremacy. They believe that such a white man, capable of penetrating to their city, would be a superior being, excelling themselves in intelligence; for their city is carefully guarded from all possible intrusion.

“This story may or may not be true; yet, without knowing anything very definite about the city or the people we are to visit, both Chaka and I consider it reasonable to suppose that this isolated race, cut off from all the rest of the world and its progress, and despising gold and jewels except for their beauty, might be delighted with some of the convenient and pretty knickknacks and modern inventions so common to us, and so inexpensive. So I have packed in my chests a supply of novelties which I will offer to trade for gold and rubies, thus obtaining the desired treasure in a legitimate way.”

“That sounds reasonable, an’ clever, too,” remarked my father, nodding approvingly.

“I’ve quite a lot of beads and cheap jewelry aboard myself,” announced Archie. “Perhaps we could trade that in.”

“I don’t imagine people who have rubies and gold would care for cheap jewelry,” replied Joe.

“My original idea,” said Allerton, “was to go alone with Chaka to his people, and have them escort us to the neighborhood of the hidden city. There Chaka and I would make an attempt to evade the guards and slip into the city, using some appliances to accomplish this which I will explain to you later. But the more I have dwelt upon this adventure, the more dangerous it seems to me if undertaken by two people. The truth is that I have made somewhat elaborate preparations to impress this unknown nation, and I need more assistance than Chaka can render, and more intelligent comrades than the fierce native Itzaex. The chances of success would be much greater, I am sure, if I had half a dozen white comrades, brave and trustworthy, willing to follow me anywhere.”

“Here’s one, Lieutenant!” I cried, starting up and extending to him my hand. “Will you accept me as a volunteer?”

“Oh, well,” said Joe, calmly, “if Sam goes of course Archie and I go with him.”

“To be sure,” nodded Archie, lazily.

Allerton seemed very grateful as he shook our hands. We shook hands with Chaka, too, who appeared to be equally pleased.

“I knowed it!” growled Uncle Naboth, ruefully; “I saw it comin’ from the start. Seems like we can’t sail in any direction without these fool boys runnin’ their necks inter danger. That hidden city sounds interestin’, though. Guess I’ll go, too, Lieutenant—blamed if I don’t!”

Now, my dear Uncle Naboth is so short and so fat that his person is almost a ball in shape. Also he wheezes a bit because his breath is scant, and no one would be likely to select him for an ideal mountain climber and adventurer, under any circumstances. There was an amused gleam in Allerton’s eye as he said:

“Thank you very much, sir. I shall be delighted to have you with us, if you can stand the mosquitoes.”

“Eh? Are they ’skeeters there?” inquired my uncle.

“A great many, I fear. It is near the famous Mosquito Coast, you know.”

Uncle Naboth looked grave and a bit uncomfortable, but made no further remark. I knew very well, however, that nothing on earth would induce him to enter a jungle swarming with his deadly enemies the mosquitoes, and that he would find an early excuse to back out of the expedition.

“O’ course,” said Captain Steele, “I’ll hev to look after the Seagull, fer my part, an’ be ready to pick you up when you’ve made good. Hick’ry legs ain’t much as mountain climbers, no how; so it’s just as well I ain’t along.”

“If you’ll take me with you, sir,” said Ned Britton, who had been silent until now, “I’ll consider it a rare favor.”

Allerton was genuinely glad of this splendid recruit. Ned wasn’t strong at brain-work, but of powerful physique, active and fearless. I could see that Chaka regarded him as the most valuable of the volunteers.

“There’s your half dozen whites, sir, including yourself,” said father. “But I guess you’d better pick one more, ’cause Naboth’ll be et up by ’skeeters afore you get very far.”

“Then you must choose from among the sailors,” I suggested. “They are all good men, Lieutenant, and you can’t go wrong.”

“I’ll look them over awhile and make the selection when I know them better,” was Allerton’s reply. “I cannot tell you how greatly your prompt and hearty coöperation has delighted me. These three young fellows,” pointing to us in turn, “have won considerable renown already for their desperate adventures, and not a man sails the seas who hasn’t heard of them and admired their grit. I’m in luck to have met you; in greater luck to have you join my enterprise. And now let us understand the terms of the agreement. If we succeed—any of us—in returning to this ship with treasure, I ask that a share be set aside to reclaim my old homestead and support my mother and sisters. If I should not be fortunate enough to come out of the adventure alive, then I ask you to keep Chaka with you and make him your friend, sending on my share of the spoils to my family. You can easily obtain Chaka’s discharge from the navy, as he has served the required time.”

“That’s all right, sir,” I replied. “We are all taking chances, as we know very well, and I think the best way to fix the business deal is to say that your home shall be redeemed first of all, as that is the main object of the undertaking. After that all of us who come back safe and sound may share and share alike. What do you say, Uncle Naboth?”

“Very good, Sam.”

“Seems to me that’s fair and square,” added Archie.

“We’re furnishing the ship an’ crew,” remarked my father, musingly.

“True, sir,” responded Allerton readily. “But in those seven chests I have an outfit fully as important for the success of the expedition as your ship and crew. We will let one offset the other, if you like.”

“Suits me,” declared my father, who cared less for driving a bargain than for asserting the importance of the Seagull. “But it’s gettin’ pretty late, boys, and I’m sleepy. Guess my wooden leg’s fell asleep a’ready. So let’s turn in and do the rest o’ the talkin’ later on. There’ll be lots o’ time to figger everything out afore we round the Horn.”

So we separated, the group on deck breaking up.

CHAPTER IV
WE SCENT DANGER AHEAD

We were all somewhat thoughtful after this interview, for it was evident we had undertaken an adventure the details of which were quite obscure to us. For my part I was too nervous and excited to bunk in just yet, so I took Joe’s arm and we walked over to the bow, where the clear starlight enabled us to watch the Seagull cut her way through the water. Chaka was at the rail before us, and started to move away; but I stopped him, saying:

“We are all brothers now, Chaka, and therefore we must become better friends. Now that we are aware of your station and rank in your own country we stand equal.”

“Only that?” said Joe. “Is the Atkayma of the Itzaex merely the equal of a common seaman?”

“I’m not common, Joe,” I protested; “and I’ve a notion a decent American is the social equal of an Indian chief. It’s social equality I’m talking about, not rank.”

“Cap’n Sam is right,” observed Chaka, with a smile that would have fascinated a woman. “Equality among men is found only in heart and brain.”

His readiness to converse, remembering his former reserve, almost startled me.

“Perhaps you’re right,” drawled Joe. “But tell us, Chaka, is there much danger in this coming adventure, do you think?”

The Maya looked grave.

“Plenty danger, Cap’n Joe.” Every one was a “Cap’n” to Chaka; he considered it a complimentary title, bound to please. “Danger from Itzaex, first of all; but not much, for I am Chief’s son. More danger from Mopane tribe, who hate Itzaex. Most danger from the mighty Tcha, who very strong, very jealous, very watchful.”

“What are those people like?” I asked.

The Maya shook his head.

“My father not tell me. When I ask, he tremble, like he afraid; and my father is brave man. But the Tcha country very small—in the middle of a mountain—and their legend say a white man some day discover them and be their master. My brother Paul is white man.”

“So you think our greatest danger will be to get to the hidden city, do you?”

“Yes. It long, bad journey. Mopanes watch by seashore, and fight us. My own people I have not seen for many years. When I find them they greet me as child of the sun, and help me. But Itzaex hate all white men, and I must use my power to protect white men from their hatred. That will be a danger to you, if not to me.”

“I see. Well, it promises to be an exciting trip, all right,” I said cheerfully, for the truth was that the danger of the adventure appealed to me more than the prospect of securing treasure. “It isn’t always necessary to fight your way in a hostile country, in order to win out, Chaka. Diplomacy and caution, backed by a little good judgment, are better than guns and pistols. Eh, Joe?”

“A little courage in avoiding a fight has often done us good service, Sam,” agreed my friend.

Chaka seemed to approve this view.

“Sometime my brother Paul tell you more,” he said.

I noticed he now spoke of Allerton as “my brother Paul,” when mentioning him to us; and there was a world of affection in the way he said it.

“Brother Paul has a big brain; his mind see far ahead. Also he have great man for Uncle—Cap’n Simeon Wells. We spend whole month last summer with Cap’n Wells, who know how to do many strange things.”

“He’s a jim-cracker electrician, all right,” said Joe.

“He give much wonder-things to my brother Paul, to help him with the Mopanes, the Itzaex and the Tcha. We keep wonder-things in the seven big boxes. You see, some day.”

With this information the Maya left us, and Joe and I sat another hour discussing the coming adventure before we finally turned in.

Uncle Naboth was pretty glum next morning. He was trying to find some way to back out of the expedition gracefully and with credit. Finally he said to us:

“You boys ain’t to be depended on; I’ve found that out. We had all our plans fixed to get into a steady, respectable coast trade, where there wouldn’t be a single thing to keep any o’ us awake nights; and here, when we’re only a week out o’ port, you’ve gone an’ upsot the whole deal.”

“It is funny, Uncle, I’ll admit,” said I. “But you can’t blame us for it, I’m sure. Lay it to Fate, where the responsibility belongs. Remember, too, that you were one of the first to offer to join the expedition.”

“I were wrong about that, Sam,” he replied, eagerly. “I meant to stick to my principles, as an honest man should. An’, by jinks, I will stick to my principles! Don’t try to argy with me; don’t try to coax me. As sure as my name’s Naboth Perkins I’m goin’ to stick to this ship, whatever you reckless bunch o’ youngsters may decide on.”

“Do you back down, sir?” demanded Archie, who was secretly much amused.

“No, sir; not a jot. I stick to my first principles; that’s all.”

Well, we were glad he took it that way, for we didn’t want Uncle Naboth with us. He was brave enough, we knew; but he had a way of getting us all into unnecessary trouble, and his rotund figure prevented him from being as active as the rest of us. A better fellow never lived than this same Naboth Perkins, but we all felt he was safer on board ship than in the wildernesses of Yucatan, and we had a suspicion we would be safer without him, too.

From that time on the adventure was our one topic of conversation. Chaka suggested that he teach us to speak the Maya tongue during the voyage, and we eagerly accepted the offer. I had already a smattering of Arabian and Chinese and could speak fluently the native language of our South Sea Islanders, Nux and Bryonia. So it was little trouble to me, with the painstaking instructions of Chaka and Allerton, to learn to comprehend fairly the Maya tongue. Joe was a natural linguist and kept pace with me easily, but poor Archie was woefully thick-headed when it came to foreign languages. Even Ned Britton, who was wholly uneducated, got along better than he. We kept up our lessons until the day we sighted the coast of Yucatan, but even then Archie understood only a few words of Maya. The mate, for his part, knew all that was said to him, but was rather slow and uncertain of speech, while Joe and I could converse readily with Allerton and Chaka in the Maya.

One of the queerest things, in this regard, was our discovery that black Nux, our steward, had caught on to Chaka’s language with little difficulty, and had himself taught it to Bry. They surprised us one evening by joining in our conversation, and that decided Allerton to ask permission to add them to our party.

“I have never seen finer physical specimens of manhood than these blacks,” he said to me, “and your reports of their loyalty and courage have quite warmed my heart toward them. Perhaps their jet black complexions would be as great a novelty to the Tcha as white skins, and these fellows will add greatly to the strength of our party.”

“That will make nine of us, altogether—,” I said musingly; “you and Chaka, we three boys, Ned Britton, a sailor, and Nux and Bryonia. By the way, have you chosen the sailor?”

“I think I shall take the Mexican who is called Pedro,” answered Allerton. “He is an active fellow and looks honest. Moreover, he is accustomed to a climate similar to that of Yucatan, which is at present a province of Mexico, although so much of it is yet an unexplored wilderness. Do you think Pedro will be willing to join us?”

“I think so, if only for a share of the spoils,” said I. “But I advise you not to mention the subject to him until the last moment. You see, every man jack of them forward would like to go too.”

As you may imagine, we asked many questions of Chaka during the voyage regarding his native country, and the route we were to take to get there. On the whole his answers were clear and satisfactory, for although he had been away for nine years he was a youth of fifteen when forced to escape the Mopanes.

According to his statements all the tribes of Yucatan Indians are called Mayas, and have a common language which varies only slightly according to the dialects of the scattered tribes. All the natives, with the exception of the Itzaex, have at times been conquered by the Spaniards, who first invaded the peninsula in 1506. But the Mayas are mostly wild and untamed to this day, and save for the tribes inhabiting the flat and settled portions of the North and West they indulge in the same barbaric and warlike existence as when the whites first came among them.

After four hundred years of settlement there is less land tilled in Yucatan to-day than there was in its first century of annexation to Spain. The interior and mountainous district is still a wilderness and exceedingly dangerous for a white man to enter.

The most powerful and warlike tribe, now as in the beginning, is that of the Itzaex. These people have no desire to acquire more territory, but hold firmly to their original heritage and fight desperately any of their neighbors who dare cross their boundaries. On the other hand, the Itzaex are barred from the seashore by a fierce tribe known as the Mopanes, and on other sides by the Kupules and Choles.

The hidden city of the remnant of the ancient Tcha nation lies directly in the heart of the Itzaex territory, which is doubtless the reason none of the other tribes is aware of its existence. The chief city of Itzlan is built on the shores of a beautiful fresh water lake lying two thousand feet above the sea level; but Chaka declares no mortal eyes save those of his own tribe have ever yet beheld the place. Which, of course, makes us the more eager to see it.

We had a most delightful voyage south, the Pacific being on its good behavior. Excellent time was made even through the turbulent waters of the Horn, and not until we had rounded the continent and were in the waters of the Atlantic did Allerton again refer to the contents of his seven mysterious chests.

One day, however, he proposed opening them, as he said it would be well for all of us who were to join the expedition to be thoroughly familiar with their contents. So, one by one, the boxes were brought into the roomy main cabin by Nux and Bryonia, where Allerton proceeded to open them.

CHAPTER V
WE INSPECT A NOVEL AERIAL INVENTION

“You must understand,” said the lieutenant, “that from the moment I decided to undertake this adventure I began preparing my ‘sinews of war’. I calculated that an isolated people like the Tcha would be greatly impressed by our wonderful modern inventions. Also I figured that many things might be collected by me which would assist in the difficult task of penetrating a hostile territory and climbing the almost inaccessible mountains leading to the hidden city. Fortunately I was stationed last summer for more than a month at Washington, where I confided my plans to my uncle, Simeon Wells, and had many long conversations with him as to a proper equipment for this difficult undertaking. His cleverness in electrical matters was of great assistance to me, for his famous storage battery, combining tremendous power with light weight, will enable me to carry some important devices into the very heart of the wilderness. Also my uncle knew of several recent inventions of which I was myself ignorant, and through his influence I managed to secure them. Here, for instance, is an important example.”

With this he took from a chest a curious contrivance that seemed to us like a cross between a rubber air-cushion and an undershirt. As Allerton explained the thing, it was to be worn by pulling it on over the head and allowing it to loosely cover the body from the neck down to the thighs. It was composed of two layers of thin, ribbon-like tissue, and could be inflated like a balloon.

“This strap,” explained Allerton, “is for attaching to your left side a small metal case—here is one—containing the crystals of themlyne. By pouring a little water upon the crystals, through the valve, a very volatile but powerful gas is created, called ‘theml,’ which inflates the garment. Chaka will put one on, so you may see exactly how it works.”

The Maya immediately complied, slipping the rubber arrangement over his head and putting his arms through the holes provided for that purpose. He then attached the metal case, which I think was aluminum, and supplied the themlyne crystals with water. At once the gas began rushing into the queer garment, which became inflated until Chaka’s upper half was puffed out in a ludicrous manner. He turned off the gas, then, and cast an inquiring glance at Allerton.

“Instead of weighing some one hundred and eighty pounds, as he did a while ago,” announced the lieutenant, “Chaka is now but little heavier than air itself.”

To verify this the Maya leaped lightly to the cabin table, bounding back to the floor again with the resilience of a rubber ball.

“In climbing mountains,” explained Allerton, “as well as in descending precipices and the like, this inflated garment will prove invaluable. It is not made of rubber, as perhaps you imagine, but of a new and wonderful material as tough as steel, and as impenetrable. It is a recent scientific discovery to be used in making unpuncturable automobile tires, and I am the first person who has ever adapted it to any other purpose. The gas-jacket, as I call it, was suggested by Uncle Simeon, and I immediately appreciated its value. There are ten of them in this chest, each fitted with a themlyne tank for inflating it. Now I will demonstrate its most important use. If Chaka lets a little more gas into the jacket it will carry him off his feet.”

Chaka did this, slowly rising like a balloon to the ceiling of the cabin, but remaining upright because his legs anchored him in a perpendicular position. He now touched a valve which released a certain portion of the gas and enabled him to descend again to the floor.

“As the jacket is ordinarily worn,” said Allerton, “the idea is to retain enough weight in your body to enable you to control all your motions, at the same time reducing your weight to the extent of preventing fatigue. I could leap over a precipice in that jacket and alight at the bottom uninjured. If I wished to escape an enemy, I could soar into the air, out of reach.”

He took out his pocket knife and asked me to slash or prick the gas-jacket which Chaka was wearing; but the material resisted all my attempts.

“I doubt,” remarked Allerton, “if a bullet at close range would penetrate it; I have never tried the experiment, but where we are going there are no bullets used by the natives.”

We were all filled with wonder at this curious contrivance.

“How much gas will that little case of crystals generate?” I asked.

“Enough to inflate the jacket a half dozen times,” he replied. “But I have an ample supply of themlyne crystals in another chest, to replenish the cases when necessary.”

“Won’t any other gas do?” inquired Archie.

“Not so well. And no other gas can be procured so quickly and easily as themlyne.”

“Of course, when the stuff is gone the jackets are useless,” suggested Joe.

“Yes; but we do not expect to use much gas except in case of emergency. At such times we are sure to find the jackets very useful. There is an appliance I myself have invented to attach to the fully inflated garments, which will render them equal to aeroplanes, and much more reliable and safe,” continued Allerton.

He motioned to Chaka, who took from the chest two objects that resembled closed Japanese fans, which the native first buckled to either side of his gas-jacket and then thrust his arms through a series of catgut loops. Allerton had to assist him in this, as the bulky jacket kept Chaka from using his hands to good advantage. When all was ready, the Maya raised his arms and showed himself possessed of wings. As his arms hung down by his sides the wings remained closed; as he raised them the fans unfolded. They were made of a material similar to that of the jacket.

“We have not had much opportunity to experiment with these wings,” admitted the lieutenant. “They may prove awkward, at first, and perhaps unaided would not carry one far into the air. But when one has ascended to an altitude by means of the inflated jacket the wings should enable him to direct his course, and to soar with the wind, or tack as a ship does, for long distances.”

“I can’t see much practical use in all these fixin’s,” remarked Uncle Naboth. “Seems to me you ain’t goin’ to Yucatan to do circus acts or to knock out the Wright brother, but jest to fight a lot o’ Injuns an’ grab some gold an’ things. Could you carry much of a load through the air in them jackets?”

“I fear not,” admitted Allerton, gravely. “As I before stated, one of my ideas is to impress the natives with the wonders of our modern civilization.”

“Well, it orter do that, all right. It’s impressed me,” said Uncle Naboth.

CHAPTER VI
WE SEE AN ASTONISHING THING

“The most wonderful thing I have to show you,” said Lieutenant Allerton, as Chaka divested himself of the gas-jacket and, after folding and putting it away, prepared to open another chest, “is that which I owe entirely to the genius of my inventive uncle, and his friendly interest in me. Indeed, I may say with truth that you are the first persons in all the world, save the President of the United States, my uncle and myself and Chaka, who have ever been initiated into the mysteries of the marvelous electrite. That is not its correct scientific name, but that is what I shall call it. Some day I am sure this invention will revolutionize and abolish warfare, securing peace to all the nations of the earth. It is so tremendous in its possibilities that when Uncle Simeon finally perfected it, after years of experimenting, he was afraid to give it to the public. He took the President into his confidence, with the result that they have decided to wait and watch conditions before deciding what to do with the electrite. But my uncle has been anxious to test the contrivance in actual use, and at my earnest entreaty permitted me to have eight of them made, to carry with me on my expedition. I may say that I rely more upon the possession of these electrites than upon any other portion of my equipment to carry us through to success.”

In the chest which Chaka now opened we saw a number of carefully wrapped parcels. One of these the lieutenant picked up and opened on the cabin table. There was a layer of stout paper, a wooden box, a covering of felt, one of chamois, then white tissue—and finally Allerton produced a nickel plated tube fifteen inches long and curved at one end like the handle of a revolver. From this handle dangled two insulated electric wires.

We were much interested in this proceeding, but as yet unable to understand what the tube was for. From a square box Allerton next withdrew a belt that at first glance resembled a cartridge-belt, except that it was broader and twice as thick. All around the outer surface was a row of curious electric tubes, joined irregularly together.

“This,” said the exhibitor, proceeding to strap the belt around his waist, “is the most condensed form of the famous Simeon Wells storage battery.” He then attached the wires of the tube to the belt and slipped the electrite into a loop, or holster, at his right side. “I am now ready,” continued Allerton, “to meet any savage beast or any foe that dares face me, for I am armed with the most powerful weapon the world of science has ever produced. If attacked I draw the electrite,” suiting the action to the word, “point it at my enemy, and press this button on the tube with my thumb. That will release a charge of electricity sufficient to stun an elephant at a hundred yards’ distance.”

We looked at him in wonder, and many exclamations, varied according to the temperament of the members of our group, greeted his assertion.

“How many times will it shoot?” asked Archie.

“Forty-five times. That will exhaust the power of the belt,” replied Allerton.

“And then?” said Captain Steele.

“Then we must use another belt, sir. I have six belts for each electrite, and eight electrites.”

“Have you ever tested it?” I asked, a little bewildered as I began to comprehend the marvel of the thing.

“No; not yet. But Professor Wells, the inventor, has fully tested its power, first on dogs and small animals, then on a horse, and finally upon his janitor, who agreed to submit to the ordeal.”

“You don’t mean to say he murdered the man!” cried Uncle Naboth, horrified.

“Not at all, sir. The most astonishing thing about the electrite is that it doesn’t kill—it stuns. A charge from it will knock a man over instantly, rendering him unconscious and apparently lifeless. From two to three hours later, depending upon his physical condition and vitality, he will regain consciousness and be little the worse for his experience save perhaps for a headache. This is why I told you the electrite is destined to abolish war and conserve peace. Nothing can stand against it. Its use will enable an army to conquer and yet avoid bloodshed. If electrites were used by two opposing forces no wails of widow and orphans would follow in the wake of a battle to cast their gloom over the victors.”

We sat spellbound and in silence for a time, thoughtfully considering these things. Gradually I, for my part, began to appreciate the marvel of this great invention.[1]

“I’d like to test it,” said Joe, calmly. “Will you try it on me, Lieutenant?”

“You are too valuable a person to experiment upon,” said he; “but in a way Chaka and I have tested each of our eight tubes, using an extra storage belt which I brought along for that purpose. We secured permission to hunt, one day, on the shore of Magdalena Bay, and knocked over rabbits, gulls and a couple of coyotes with ease. We could not wait to see if they recovered, but I have Uncle Simeon’s assurance that, in the case of a man, recovery is certain unless he has some bad heart trouble or other physical defect. Uncle’s janitor, upon whom he experimented—a brawny Irishman—was upon his feet again in a little more than two hours.”

“It’s surely a queer weapon,” remarked Uncle Naboth. “But when it comes to fighting natives in Yucatan I guess I’d prefer a good rifle. What’s the use of knockin’ an enemy over if you don’t put him out o’ business for good an’ all?”

“No one likes to kill a human being when it can be avoided,” I answered, rather indignantly. “If we are opposed by natives and can render them unconscious for two hours, it’s just as good for our purpose as killing the poor devils.”

“My idea, exactly, Sam,” approved Allerton. “But unfortunately we cannot use our electrites at will, being limited in our number of battery charges. So we must carry guns and revolvers, too, and save these finer weapons for emergencies.”

He then proceeded to show us other curious things contained in the chests, some of which you will hear of during the progress of my story. Three of the big boxes were completely filled with mechanical toys and novelties, aluminum utensils, brass buttons, metal combs, brushes of various sorts, bales of gorgeous colored silks and china ornaments. Allerton admitted that these things had cost him considerable money, practically exhausting the combined resources of his eccentric but inspired uncle and himself, as well as Chaka’s savings.

“If we do not succeed,” said he, quietly enough, “I shall be a bankrupt. But if my plans carry, as I hope they will, no sacrifice is too great to redeem the old homestead and provide for the future of those dear, dependent women.”

“Succeed!” cried Archie; “of course we’ll succeed. With such an outfit as that there’s no chance at all of failure.”

No one replied to this enthusiastic speech. We were busy with our thoughts. There was a long and difficult journey before us, fraught with desperate adventures, before any one might say with assurance that success lay within our grasp.

But we considered it worth the attempt, nevertheless.

CHAPTER VII
WE OUTWIT THE ENEMY

In the gray of the morning I stood with my friends beside the rail, peering anxiously at a dim black line that marked the Yucatan coast. In order to avoid the islands and settled coast districts of the north-east we had approached Yucatan by way of the Mosquito Coast and British Honduras, expecting to sight the country in its wildest and most barbarous district.

Chaka, who had resided as a boy in the interior but had made several trips to the sea, was uncertain whether he would recognize the Bay of Mopa from the water or not. It was from the bay I have mentioned, which lay in the hostile Mopane territory, that the trail led into the country of the Itzaex—the only trail Chaka knew of and therefore the trail we must follow.

Although waging a fierce warfare with neighboring tribes the Mopanes were accustomed to deal arbitrarily with ships and expeditions from Honduras which came to trade for the enormous green turtles that abounded on their coast. This fact we relied upon to shield us from immediate hostilities.

As the sun slowly rose and dissolved the gray shades from the morning sky we found ourselves quite near to a wild but very attractive shore. The sandy beach was shelving and touched the sea at a level. Back of the beach began the scrub—low bushes somewhat resembling our sage-brush, but set closer together. Beyond the scrub rose the great forests of logwood and mahogany, covering the land as far as the eye could reach.

Chaka told us the villages of the Mopanes were all within the forest’s edge, but by eight o’clock, when we came close enough to view the scene distinctly, we were enabled to see statuesque bronze figures dotting the shore here and there. Doubtless these were sentinels, set to watch us and see where we landed.

“Not here!” exclaimed the Maya, shaking his head.

We swung around and steamed slowly north, keeping sharp watch for hidden shoals and rocks, as no map in my father’s collection was able to guide a mariner in these practically unknown waters. Small bays and indentations were numerous, and each of these Chaka scanned with thoughtful care. Once, indeed, he decided he had found the right place, and we ventured into a pretty bay and lay to while our guide carefully considered the landmarks. But the native, although slow to form conclusions, had a positive nature and was not to be deceived by minor appearances.

“Not here, Cap’n Steele,” he said again, and we stood out and continued on our way, hugging the coast as closely as we dared in order to give Chaka a better view.

We passed the whole day in this tedious search and it was almost evening when the Maya gave a cry of delight and raised his arms to indicate that he had sighted the right haven. It was more a bight than a bay, and my father looked grave at the huge rocks scattered a full quarter of a mile from the shore line.

Natives watched us here, as everywhere, and when we lay to a score of dugouts were pushed into the water and filled with Indians who soon swarmed along our side. Chaka now kept out of their sight, fearing to be recognized, and Allerton called to one lot of natives which showed an impudent disposition to board us, to keep off or take the consequences. They were astonished to hear a white man speak the Maya tongue and declared they wanted to come aboard to “trade.” Allerton replied that we had nothing to trade and would proceed at once on our way north.

This did not seem to satisfy them. They were all copper-colored, athletic fellows, quick and nervous in action and with jet-black eyes which glinted fiercely. They seemed utterly unafraid of us and one boat load of four made a sudden dash up our side, leaping to seize a rope ladder we had left swaying from the bulwarks and climbing it with the agility of cats.

Ned Britton happened to be watching that spot and the burly mate grasped the first native by an arm, swung him clear of the side, and then hurled him bodily at the others following. All four went down with a rush, disappearing below the surface of the placid water, while their comrades screamed an angry defiance and sent a volley of small slender darts—which reminded me of arrows—aimed at every head showing above the side. We had no trouble in dodging them, but Allerton warned us they were poisoned and we did not relish such an attack.

Captain Steele had already rung to go ahead and we gathered way and moved from our dangerous position as quickly as possible. The natives Ned had dislodged scrambled into their boat again, but the fellow he had seized seemed to have a broken arm and howled lustily as his comrades dragged him aboard.

The Mopanes showed no disposition to follow us and as we gained the open sea we observed them paddling back to the shore.

“A pretty reception, I must say!” growled Archie in disgust. “So that’s the sort of vermin we’re supposed to tackle, is it?”

“I imagine this is only a sample of their peculiarities,” mused Joe.

“Mopanes bad Indians,” admitted Chaka, who had now come on deck again.

“Well, I suppose we must take them as we find them,” I rejoined, with a sigh. “The trouble seems to be that no one has taken pains to civilize them.”

“What’s our plan now, sir?” asked Ned, turning to Allerton.

“We’ll stand out until darkness comes on, and then return to the bay with all lights out and disembark as silently as possible,” was the answer. “We rely on the usual native custom of ‘sleeping nights and fighting days’ to shield us from observation. We have now created the impression that we have sailed away for good, and as ships are a rarity in this latitude the Mopanes will all retire to their villages back in the forest and go to bed. That will give us a chance to land, make our preparation and get a good start on the secret trail leading to the Itzaex country.”