AN ADVENTURE IN ST. AUGUSTINE
"Hurrah! we are in sight of the coast!"
It was Dick who uttered the cry, late in the afternoon of the second day after the conversation recorded above.
The Dashaway had made a clean run of over a hundred and thirty miles, and had come in sight of the coast but a few miles above the little river upon which St. Augustine is situated, about two miles from the rolling Atlantic.
Fortunately, old Jacob knew these waters thoroughly, so the run to the river and up to the ancient Spanish city was not a hazardous one. As soon as they dropped anchor, all of the boys went ashore and Robert Menden went with them.
It was no easy matter to rush through Dick's long orders for stores, but they did their best, and by two o'clock of the afternoon following, the yacht was ready for a journey of a thousand miles or more.
"We won't live on the fat of the land," grinned Dick. "But we won't have to live on salt meat, either."
"I don't mind some salt meat," smiled Robert Menden, "but I don't like too much of it."
While Dick was superintending the loading of the stores, Don and Bob strolled off to take a look at the ancient town, which possesses several points of interest.
"It's a good deal different from things North," observed Don. "Even the trees are different. How beautiful the palms are!"
"I guess we'll see as much of tropical life as we care for when we reach Porto Rico," replied Bob. "Gracious, but it's warm!" he added, wiping the perspiration from his brow.
"And we'll find it hot enough, too," laughed his chum. "That trip to the interior won't be exactly a picnic, Bob."
"That's true. But then a fellow can stand something for the sake of making a lot of money. I wish we had time to stay here a few days. I would like to go out into the wood with a gun, and see what I could knock over."
"Yes, it's a pity we can't have at least one day's fishing and hunting. But then we must get to Porto Rico before that Joseph Farvel. What a scamp he must be!"
"The world is full of such chaps. But if only we can outwit him I shall be satisfied."
The walk of the two boys took them to one of the broad highways leading to the residential portion of the city.
The highway was lined with carriages coming and going, and bicycles were likewise numerous.
"I wouldn't mind a ride on a wheel myself," observed Don. "Those fellows seem to enjoy it thoroughly," and he pointed to four boys, all in uniform, who were riding wheels which were peculiarly striped in red, white and blue.
"They carry the flag colors," smiled his chum. "They must be patriotic."
"And what real, live American lad isn't patriotic, Bob?"
"True for you. If we – Hullo, what does that mean?"
Bob broke off short and pointed up the broad highway.
Around a bend a fine carriage had appeared, drawn by a team of coal black steeds.
For some reason not now apparent, the team had taken their bits in their teeth and were running away at topmost speed.
The turnout had two seats, but its sole occupant was a little girl not over six or seven years of age – a pale, blue-eyed creature, with yellow curls streaming down her back.
"Help! stop the bad, bad horses!" sobbed the little girl, as the tears of terror ran down her cheeks.
"By ginger! this is awful!" gasped Don. "That little girl will be thrown out and killed."
"Can't we stop the horses?" questioned Bob. "We must do it somehow!" he added, with sudden determination.
The chums had been walking along the side of the highway, but now Bob ran out directly in the path of the oncoming team.
"Be careful, Bob!" yelled Don, but, nevertheless, he followed his chum, at the same time pulling off the light jacket he wore over his outing shirt.
Bob set his teeth hard. Half a dozen people were yelling at him, but it is doubtful if he heard a word of the advice. His one thought was centered on the little girl and what he might do to save the creature. "I must do it," he muttered. "I must!"
On and on came the team, carriage drivers and bicyclists losing no time in getting out of the way, so that they themselves might escape injury. In such a moment, "self-preservation is the first law of nature," to nine out of every ten human beings.
Whizz! It was Don's coat that flew forth, just as the team ranged up almost in front of him. The youth's aim was good, for the garment shot past the nose of the nearest steed, to land on the head of the second, thus momentarily checking the mad dash of the pair.
As the coat came from one side, Bob leaped from the other, clasping the steed nearest to him around the neck. Then Don's garment slipped to the highway, and away went the horses again, the reins dangling at their heels and the carriage swaying violently from side to side, as the wheels found stone, hollow or rut along the way.
Fortunately for Bob, his hold was a good one, and pulling up his legs, the youth was enabled to keep clear of the horse's hoofs, which came up rather high as he kept to his mad chase.
"Bob, look out!" came from Don, and then turnout and boy passed out of hearing of the chum left standing in a cloud of dust, coatless and hatless, and without knowing what to do next.
But a short distance away was a side road, much rougher than the main highway. As the team went on, the horse carrying Bob's weight lagged slightly behind, and when the side road was reached, both steeds turned and darted in the new direction.
By this time poor Bob realized that he had cut out a large piece of work for himself. He wanted to swing himself up on the animal's back, but for several minutes was unable to do so. In the meantime the carriage swayed more violently than ever.
"Stop the bad horses!" shrieked the little girl, and then arose to her feet, as if to jump from the carriage.
"Sit down!" cried Bob, as he caught a brief glance of the little maiden. "Sit down, or you'll get hurt worse!"
The girl heard his words, but hesitated about accepting his suggestion. Bob had now one foot across the horse's back, and with one mighty pull he hauled himself up on the steed's neck. The animal tried to throw him, but the youth was game, and a second later had jumped to the rear and was leaning down, gathering up the reins.
"Oh, dear me!" gasped the little girl, as she saw him pick up the leathers. Then came a leap, and Bob landed on the front seat of the carriage.
The boy now had the reins, and each was twisted tightly about his wrist. But could he haul in such a fiery team? It looked doubtful.
He braced his feet as well as he was able, and hauled back. One horse had lost the bit, but the other had not, and away went the latter with renewed energy, which it seemed that nothing could overcome.
Crack! It was the frail dashboard of the carriage that had given way, and in an instant Bob's foot went through a hole, which held his leg as if in a vise.
"More trouble," was his thought, and he sought to extricate himself from this new difficulty, but still keeping tight hold of the lines, knowing only too well that if they slipped down again, the attempted rescue would be a failure.
"Please, please stop the bad, bad horses!" pleaded the girl, who occupied the seat behind him.
"I will – if I can," panted Bob. "But sit down, or you may be thrown out. There's a bend ahead."
The bend was not far off, and Bob still trying to free his leg from the wreck of the dashboard when the team made the turn so closely that the carriage went up high on the wheels of one side. For a few seconds it looked as if the turnout would be thrown over, but it gradually righted itself, and on they went again, more madly than ever.
Around the bend, the trees and bushes were thick, and but little could be seen. Yet presently a sight caught Bob's eyes which fairly made his heart stop beating.
They