  “What is the matter with that colored boy?” whispered Nicky Lane to his comrades, Tom and Cliff, “Look! He stares up at the sun and then he watches us as if he expects something to happen.” Cliff and Tom lifted their heads from the shallow pit in which they were digging. A glance toward the top rail of the fence around the field showed them a black-faced boy of about ten, perched there. As they stared at him he looked away. “He’s only curious to know what we are doing,” Tom declared. “All these Jamaica colored folks are,” Cliff added. “They can’t understand why we want to find old relics.” “But why does he look up at the sun?” Nicky persisted. “See! He’s doing it now.” The boy gave a glance toward the sun, about two hours high, and then resumed his intent stare toward the trench. Nicky leaned on his spade handle and glowered back. “Do you suppose he expects us to be sun-struck?” Cliff suggested. “Only it isn’t hot enough yet, and we’re not working hard.” “I don’t know,” Tom declared, “but I wish I did. He seems to be fidgeting and nervous.” “I’m going to find out!” exclaimed Nicky. Of the trio of chums he was the most excitable and impulsive. As he dropped his spade and strode toward the fence, its occupant tumbled off; scrambling to his feet he ran out of sight around the side of an old, ramshackle cabin in a corner of the enclosure. “That’s a funny one,” Cliff observed when Nicky returned. They discussed the strange actions of the colored boy for a moment but since there was no explanation they went back to work. Nicky Lane was on a holiday with his two bosom companions. The Amadale Military Academy, which they all attended, had been closed because there was an epidemic of “flu” in the suburb of a mid-Western city in which the school was located. Most of the students had gone to their homes. Cliff Gray lived with his Aunt Lucy in the very suburb most affected by the epidemic; Tom and Nicky were boarding there also. Cliff’s father, whom the boys had helped to rescue from detention among some Incas of Peru, in an old hidden Inca city among the Andes, was, at this time, exploring and studying in the island of Jamaica, among the West Indies. He was a great scholar and a student of old civilizations and was writing some chapters of a book on the Carib Indians, the original inhabitants of the islands when Columbus discovered them. Cliff’s Aunt Lucy thought it would be wise for Cliff to join his father, to be well away from danger of infection; because the three chums were inseparable, consent was easily secured for Tom and Nicky to go with him. The three friends had been residing on a plantation in the heart of the island for nearly a week. There, with Cliff’s father and a young man, Clarence Neale, who was securing Carib relics for a great Museum of Indian History in New York, they tried to help out by searching for Carib pottery and ornaments. Jamaica had a great lure for them, for Nicky, a “pirate bug,” called Jamaica “Pirates’ Paradise!” This interest was not due to any desire on Nicky’s part to be a wild, fierce seadog, sailing from some port with letters of marque, to pillage unprotected ships. The days for such things lay far in the past and although Nicky was excitable and impulsive he was, at heart, a very steady, sincere boy, a true American living up to the ideals of all that American boyhood means. But in Nicky’s family there was an old paper which was a direct message to one of his ancestors from no less a person than the alleged pirate, Captain Kidd! Naturally Nicky, scarcely more than fourteen, was elated when he knew that he was permitted to accompany Cliff Gray, with their comrade, Tom, slightly older than either, to the island which had once been governed by a reformed pirate, in the heart of the West Indies where once piracy had flourished. They found very little more than legends and old tales to whet their interest. Piracy had given place to commerce on the seas, as sailing ships had surrendered to steam. And so, instead of digging for buried treasure, on the sixth morning of their visit, they had found themselves digging carefully in a corner of an uncultivated field, to unearth broken bits of earthenware, possibly some small ornaments, or other relics of the Caribs who once roamed the island. Digging early to avoid the mid-day heat during which everybody was quiet and inactive, they had discovered the unaccountable interest of the colored boy and when he had scuttled away they returned to their work wondering a little about it. “When we rescued your father from the Incas and got some of their gold the whole business started with a mystery, Cliff.” Tom referred to an adventure during the previous summer in which they had explored a hidden city in Peru and gone through many exciting escapades. “Wouldn’t it be odd if that boy started up a new mystery?” Nicky suggested. “We’re right in the heart of mystery land. Voodoo—piracy in the past—and—and everything!” “Look—but don’t let him see you!” Cliff nudged his comrades. “By the right side of that old cabin—there’s our ‘boy-friend!’” Sure enough, the ebony face protruded around the old shack that stood in the field, not far from their trench. “Listen, fellows,” whispered Nicky, “there is something queer about this. How can we get hold of him and make him tell us what he expects is going to happen. He’s just looked up at the sun again!” “You pretend to chase him,” Tom advised. “When he disappears and is out of sight I will go the other way and head him off.” Nicky promptly started toward the boy, who ran away around the cabin. Tom lost no time in taking a direction around the other side of the shack. There was a shrill yell of fear and the sound of a scuffle, and back came Nicky and Tom, almost dragging a terrified colored boy. Cliff joined them close to the cabin. “Now,” said Nicky, “we’re not going to hurt you. But you tell us what made you look at the sun and then watch us!” The boy was silent. Suddenly he began to wriggle and to struggle and all three took hold of him. They did not intend to harm him but his actions had their curiosity fully aroused. “Here! White boys! Let that colored boy alone, do you hear!” A shrill, cracked voice came from the cabin. The three white chums hesitated, looking at one another and then at the cabin. In its doorway stood an old, bent woman, who seemed to be all skin and bones. Her face looked like crinkled, black parchment, dry and wrinkled. Her hands were skinny and had long nails and clawlike fingers. She leaned on a stick and made them all think of pictures of witches they had seen. Her eyes blazed at them. A little frightened by the old crone’s evident fury, they let go of the boy who scuttled past the woman into the shack. “We didn’t hurt him,” Nicky said defiantly. “He was—” and he told her how the boy had acted. “We wanted to know why he did it,” he ended. The woman scowled at them. “You know very quick,” she said in her shrill, cracked tones. “You go away or sun make you very sick in the head!” “Ho!” cried Nicky, “will it? Who says so?” “Sh-h-h!” Tom nudged him. “Don’t you remember what Cliff’s father told us about Voodoo on these islands?” “Yes, I do,” Nicky answered under his breath. “But I’m not afraid! Why does she want us to go away? What is there in this field that she doesn’t want us to see?” “It’s Voodoo, I tell you!” Tom urged. “These old Voodoo witches can enchant people.” “Do you really believe that?” demanded Nicky. The old woman was fumbling and tugging at an old bag, dirty and of some queer animal or reptile skin, as he spoke. “Well—” Tom hesitated, “I know they say it’s only the effect on ignorant minds that makes Voodoo hurt people.” “Well, it can’t hurt me!” declared Nicky, “And, as I say—why would she want to ‘voodoo’ us—white fellows and strangers?” “I think Nicky’s right,” Cliff declared. “She must have some reason.” “Listen,” whispered Nicky, excitedly, “one of you run and bring Mr. Gray or the other man—Mr. Neale. Let’s get to the bottom of this. I’ll give you any odds you like that she is trying to drive us away because something’s hidden in this field—maybe—maybe——” “Treasure!” gasped Cliff and ran like a deer for the older members of their party. Treasure! |
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