Even before they reached the guard line, the little party could plainly hear the groans that had so frightened the Spanish sentinel. The sounds came from a point some two hundred feet beyond the line. Between the spells of groaning would come noises like a struggle going on, a heavy fall, then more groans.

Suddenly the teamster with an oath broke into a run and the boys followed close at his heels. It was a pitiful scene that the lanterns revealed when they reached the spot. The teamster, with tears in his eyes, was swearing vigorously as he untangled the hitching ropes from the legs of the two mules whose sufferings were frightful to behold. Their bellies were swollen up to twice their natural size and their eyes were glassy with pain. Occasionally one would stagger to its feet, stand swaying for a few minutes, then fall heavily to the ground, where it would lay groaning in spasms of pain.

"What's the matter with them?" Charley demanded anxiously.

"The Lord only knows," said the teamster, "that swelling of the stomach looks as though they had been foundered, but that can't be. I only gave them their usual feed for the night—just what they always have."

"Can we do anything for them?" inquired the lad.

Canady shook his head. "I am afraid they are too far gone," he said. "But I'll try. I've got all kinds of medicines in my tent. I'll run and get them."

He was back in a minute with a box full of pint bottles. Then followed hours of anxious labor, holding and dosing the sick animals, but it was all in vain. Before daylight one mule stiffened out in death and a half hour later the other one died.

It was a sorrowful little party that stood around the dead animals. To the little party of chums it meant the loss of $500 and the tying up of the machine until a new team could be procured. To the teamster it meant the loss of two animals to which he had really grown attached.

"This was no accident," declared the Captain, as they stood around discussing the affair. "It comes right at the time the wood piles were fired. That ain't no coincident, I reckon."

"You're right," Charley agreed. "Their aim was to tie up the machine by cutting off our wood supply, and it looks as though they have succeeded. No doubt the mules were poisoned, but the thing that puzzles me is how the poison was administered. Mules are the most particular animals in the world about what they take into their mouths."

"Let's have a look at the feed boxes," Walter suggested; "there ought to be some clews in them."

The teamster uttered an oath as he held his lantern over the feed boxes, for each was still partly filled with wheat. "That's what done it," he swore savagely. "All animals love the taste of wheat, but it is sure death to them if they eat any quantity of it. It swells so fast in their stomachs. Lord, I wish I had hold of the fellow who did this thing."

"Bring your lanterns," called Walter, who had stepped away a few paces from the crowd. "There's something lying here on the ground. I believe it's a man."

In a second his companions were by his side with their lanterns. As the lights flashed down on the prostrate object, an exclamation of horror burst out from the little party, for, lying on his back, his head in a pool of blood, lay a man, one side of his skull entirely crushed in.

"He's the one that fixed the mules," declared the teamster excitedly. "One of the mules killed him. Serves him right. I'm glad he got his."

"Shut up," said Charley shortly. "This is too horrible a thing to exult over. Come on, some of you, and give me a hand to carry him to my tent. We cannot leave him lying here."

Silently the little party lifted the dead man and bore him into the lad's tent and laid him down on a cot. Charley got water and a cloth and washed away the blood on the dead man's face and head. The face was that of a young man but was seamed and aged by lines of dissipation. The lad, with repugnance for the task, searched the dead man's pockets, but found nothing but a loaded revolver and a box of small white pellets which he decided was dope of some kind.

His unpleasant task finished, the lad stepped out of the tent, followed by his chums, who had helped him with the dead man. The three stood silent for a minute drinking in deep breaths of the fresh early morning air.

"What are you going to do with him?" the Captain asked, jerking his head toward the tent where the dead man lay.

"Keep him until afternoon," Charley said wearily. "Some of his friends may come and claim the body. If not, we will give him as good a funeral as we can. It's a terrible piece of business. If all our money was not tied up in this job, I would vote to quit right now."

"Same here," agreed Captain Westfield. "I'm getting sick of the mud and water and all the troubles we are having, and this last business is about the last straw."

"You fellows will feel better after a little nap, and a good breakfast," said Walter cheerfully. "I guess none of us is in love with this new venture of ours, but there is no good to be gained by getting in the dumps. We must keep cheerful and do the best we can. It is madness to talk about quitting now. It would likely take us years of hard work to save up the money we've got tied up in this business."

"You're right," Charley acknowledged. "We have got to fight it out. I guess I'll crawl in and catch a catnap before breakfast. A little sleep makes a whole lot of difference in a man's feelings."

Such indeed seemed to be the case, for, when a couple of hours later he joined the rest at the breakfast table, he was once more his old cheerful self. During the meal he outlined his plans to meet the new difficulty that opposed them.

"There's a lawyer coming out to see us to-day," he said, "and when he goes back I want you, Canady, to go back with him. I'll give you a check for $500 and I want you to buy a good pair of mules and get them out here as soon as possible. I will try to get some of the Indians to haul wood while you are gone. I see there's a couple of piles of wood left near the machine that will do to fire up with to-morrow morning. After breakfast, Captain, take part of the men and have them bury the mules, and also dig a grave in that little bunch of spruces. It ought not to take more than an hour for the job, then all hands are to knock off and get a good day's rest. I think we all need it. I do not believe there is any need for a guard on the machine to-day, but we will have to put one on it to-night."

Shortly after breakfast, Willie John, the Seminole, arrived as he had promised. Charley had not forgotten him when he was in town and the Indian's eyes sparkled over the bright colored cloth, beads, and mouth organ the lads presented him with. Before he left, Charley succeeded in hiring him and the two teams and wagons he had in Indiantown to haul wood for the machine until the teamster returned with the mules. The Seminole immediately took his departure, promising to be back with wagons and oxen before dark.

He had hardly gone, when Mr. Bruce, the lawyer, drove up in his auto. He was made welcome in the boys' tent and Charley briefly told what had occurred since he had seen him. The lawyer took a look at the dead man. "He has all the appearance of a tough," he said. "Rather an ignoble end for a gunman, to be kicked to death by a mule. I would advise you to bury him at once. It is not at all likely that his friends will call for him. To do so would be to give themselves away."

The grave was already dug and, following the lawyer's advice, the body was at once laid to rest, the Captain saying a brief prayer over it before it was lowered into the grave.

The ceremony over, they all gathered in the shade of a big pine and discussed their troubles with Mr. Bruce.

"I confess," said the lawyer, "that I thought your young friend was exaggerating in the story he told me at Palm Beach, but I see now that the trouble is far more serious than I thought. I have not been idle since his visit to my office, and I have discovered one or two things that are extremely interesting, although I do not see as yet how they solve the mystery of your troubles. I have come out to-day to look over the ground and see if I cannot discover some connection between the facts I have learned and the trouble you are having. One peculiar thing I notice in all your accounts is that, with the exception of the placing of the dynamite under the machine, which may have been done by Rooney out of sheer personal cussedness, there has been no attempt made to destroy the machine."

"You are right, sir," Charley admitted, "but of course they have not had much chance to get at the machine."

"Another thing," continued the lawyer, "although you have been caused much anxiety, and worry and have suffered considerable loss, yet no one of you has been seriously hurt so far."

"I follow your reasoning, sir," Charley said. "Your idea is that they do not wish to wreck the machine, but merely to stop its working, and that they do not want to kill, but merely to drive us off the job."

"Correct," said the lawyer; "but I am not going to say but what they will kill some of you if they can't stop the job any other way."

"You're comforting at any rate," said Walter, with a grin. "If we stop, we lose every dollar we have in the world. If we don't stop we are likely to be killed. Now which would you advise us to do?"

Mr. Bruce laughed. "I am not going to advise either at present," he said. "It's my duty as a lawyer to try to save you from both. Before I give any advice I want to look over the ground. Can I drive on out to Indiantown in my auto?"

"Sure," said Charley, "and we will go with you if you do not mind."