"Do you mean to say that Mr. Murphy does not own the machine, the contract, and all the equipment?" Charley asked.

"Oh, I guess he owns the stuff out there, all right," said the agent. "The point is, that in a year's time he has only completed ten miles of the road, and, if you have read the contract over carefully, you will have noticed that it calls for the completion of the road in two years, or the contractor is liable to forfeit the machine itself. There remains thirty miles to do within a year. And that thirty miles is far harder to do than the ground Murphy has gone over. He has lost thousands of dollars upon the work he has done. I hardly blame him for trying to catch a sucker."

"But," Charley protested, "we saw the machine work. It digs over a cubic yard of earth a minute, and, at 17½ cents a yard, that ought to pay big money."

"It looks all right on paper," answered the agent wearily, "but it doesn't figure out that way in fact. You have got to allow for breakdowns, and a host of troubles you don't expect. The farther out you get the more troubles you are going to have. I cannot tell you all that may happen to you, for I do not know exactly, and, if I did, it would be against the rules of the telegraph company for me to repeat anything I have learned from messages that have come over the wire. That is a rule an agent is honor-bound to obey. But I may, however, give you a hint to be on your guard all the time. There are powerful people and influences at work to stop that road-building."

"But why should anyone wish to stop it?" asked Charley, whose face began to wear an anxious expression.

"That I do not know," answered the agent. "All I know is that you will not be allowed to build that road in peace. How far its enemies will go to stop it, and what their motive is, I cannot say. But, if I were you, I'd be on the watchout for trouble right from the start."

"Cheerful news," commented Charley grimly.

"It isn't very joyful tidings, I admit," said the agent. "I would hate to tackle the job under such circumstances. The work itself is uncertain enough to keep any man worrying, without any trouble from outside. Now you have all the warning I am permitted to give you, and, if I may, I would like to ask you what are you going to do about it?"

"Do?" echoed Charley, throwing back his shoulders. "I coaxed my companions into this deal, and it's up to me, with their help, to pull out clear."

"Go to it," said Captain Westfield, approvingly. "We have still got $2,000, and we'll back you up to the last cent. If we go broke, it will not be the first time we've been that way."

"You've voiced my sentiments," agreed Walter, quickly.

"Dis nigger's sho' got to go wid you white chillens," Chris joined in. "Don't know what you'd do widout dis nigger to look out for you-alls."

The agent observed this demonstration of loyalty with increased interest. "If you all stick by each other like that, you will do better than Murphy has, at any rate," he observed. "I'll help you all I can, but I'm afraid that will not be very much, but, perhaps, I can drop a hint now and then that will be of help to you. Well, there goes my telegraph call. Guess it is an answer to your telegram to the bank."

In a few minutes he reappeared with the written message:

"Your message too late; check cashed a few minutes after eight."

"Bank of West Palm Beach."

"I gossiped a little with the agent at Palm Beach," he said. "Murphy left there on the southbound a few minutes ago. He bought a ticket to Havana. Sorry, boys, I did my best for you, but it was too late. Well, I hope you will have better luck than Murphy did. Drop in on me whenever you feel like it. I have got to get some waybills ready for the morning freight, now, so will have to get busy."

The little party thanked him for his kindness and, strolling down to the dock, sat down to discuss the new turn of affairs.

"What a chump I am!" exclaimed Charley bitterly. "Here I've gone and dragged you fellows into a hopeless proposition, when common sense should have led me to investigate carefully. It was too good a bargain not to have some string fastened to it. One can't get something for nothing in this world."

"Maybe you were a mite hasty, lad," admitted the Captain; "but shucks, we all make our little mistakes. Maybe we can do better than Murphy did with that big land turtle. It appeared to me that Murphy wasn't just the kind of a man to handle a lot of negroes, especially Saws. I could see there was a pile of dissatisfaction in that camp, and, when there's trouble in the forecastle, the ship is never worked right."

"Golly, I don't blame them niggers for looking sullen and working no account when dey has to eat grub de way dat cook fixes it up. I reckon I could fix up some dishes dat would sho' make them open their eyes."

"I believe there are several things that could be done to that machine which would make her work a lot better," Walter remarked thoughtfully. "I would like to work on the machine firing, if necessary, until I learned how to run her. That's the way we will fix it. Chris can be cook, I'll be engineer, the Captain overseer, and you, Charley, business manager."

Charley forced a grin. "I'm afraid my ability as business manager is at a discount now, but, if you fellows care to trust me again, I believe I will profit from the lesson I've just learned, and, with your help, will pull our hot chestnuts out of the fire. I believe it can be done. The first thing now is to get back to our white elephant. Do you suppose you can run that truck back to camp?"

"I believe so," said his chum doubtfully. "I used to run a car a little at home, but it was a different make."

"Well, go ahead, and see about it," Charley said. "The Captain and Chris will help you get our stuff aboard. I am going to make a round of the stores and see whether Murphy owes all of them. It is likely we will have to lay in supplies every week."

Charley found his surmise correct. Every merchant he met was clamorous to collect overdue bills on Mr. Murphy's camp. It was here that Charley's steady, if slow and interrupted, study of the law stood him in good stead. "You can't collect from us, and there's no use you're getting mad over it," he said coolly to each infuriated merchant. "You took a chance on Murphy, and got stung, the same as we have, and you've got to stand it the same as we have. If you get any of your money back it will have to be from Murphy. If we had been notified beforehand about your claims against Mr. Murphy, then we would have seen to it that the bills were settled before we paid over the purchase price. We have not benefited in the slightest by the things Mr. Murphy bought of you, and you cannot expect us to pay his debts."

It was a frank, manly, straightforward statement, but the merchants received it with wrath, sore over the losses they had sustained, and treated the lad with many threats and charges of underhandedness, even going so far as to accuse him of being in collusion with Murphy in an attempt to defraud them. By the time the last merchant was visited the lad was convinced that he could expect no credit or sympathy in Jupiter. The knowledge did one good thing for him, however. It stirred up every bit of his fighting spirit, and, when he rejoined his friends at the truck, it was with the determination to make good on his unfortunate venture, if it were possible for a human being to do so.

Walter looked up at him with beaming face. "I can run it all right," he declared, "and it's in pretty good shape, too, though it's been frightfully misused."

"Good," said his chum cheerfully, as he climbed aboard. "Run me down to the station first. I've got to send a telegram, and then we will go out to camp."

"I've come back to ask some more questions," he grinned to the friendly agent. "What's the name of a good wholesale grocery house in Jacksonville? I want one that does not deal much with the local merchants here."

"James K. Riley & Co. are the best I know of," said the agent promptly. "Their prices are very low, but they demand spot cash, so retail merchants do not trade with them much."

Charley wrote a few lines on a telegram blank and shoved it over to him. "Will you rush that through for me?" he asked.

The agent grinned as he read the telegram:

"James K. Riley,
Jacksonville, Fla.

Please send at once your price list of staple groceries.

West, Hazard, Westfield & Co."

"Merchants here didn't exactly fold you to their bosoms, when they learned that you were Murphy's successor?" he asked.

"Not so you could notice it," Charley admitted, with a smile. "One can't blame them much for being sore, but, of course, we have got to look out for ourselves."

"Sure," assented the agent, "you're making a wise move at that, kid. It's a 250-mile haul from Jacksonville here, and the freights will be high, but, even so, you'll get your stuff 20 per cent, cheaper than the merchants here would charge you. The charge on this message will be a quarter."

Charley paid over the twenty-five cents and hurried out to the truck, where his companions were impatiently awaiting him. As they whirled out on the dirt road leading to the camp he explained to them what he had been doing.

"You did just right," approved the Captain. "There can't be more than one captain to a ship, and I reckon you have got to be captain of this one until she sails into port or is wrecked on the rocks. You have got more business sense than the rest of us. I don't reckon because you made one slip that you are going to keep on making them. We will back you up with the last dollar we've got in the bank, won't we, lads?"

"Sure," said Walter heartily.

"Sho'," Chris agreed solemnly.

"Thanks," said Charley simply. "I'll do my best. Now, Walt, I wish you would show me how to run this truck. I've got a hunch that I'm going to have to use it a whole lot the next few months, and now's as good a time as any to learn."

Fortunately the truck mechanism was very simple. And in half an hour Charley had so far mastered the principles of the different levers that he felt sure that he could run it if necessity demanded.

"There's one thing more to do before we reach camp," Charley said, when his lesson was finished. "We ought to unpack our pistols and have them handy in our pockets. I don't expect trouble, but it is just as well to be ready for it. I guess there are some pretty tough characters in that bunch. I noticed, big man as he is, Murphy had a couple of big pistols strapped on him when he was in camp."

The pistols were gotten out of the pack and carefully oiled and reloaded. They were late purchases and looked as small and harmless as toy pistols, but their appearance was deceiving. In reality they were automatics of the latest make, deadly accurate, and each, when loaded, carried 11 steel-jacketed bullets, that could be discharged in as many seconds. When slipped into a coat pocket they made only a slight bulge.

By the time they had all pocketed their weapons they came in full sight of the camp. Charley stood up and viewed it with a puzzled frown on his face.

"Something's gone wrong," he announced.