Chapter XI: The Old Sugar Camp

Pryne's team was by no means a swift one. The horses jogged slowly out into the hills, Pryne constantly plying a gad.

"Seems to me like," remarked Pryne, looking around suddenly, "that Grattan allowed Bunce had only one eye."

"That's another pal of his," said Matt coolly. "You've got us mixed, Pryne."

"Waal, mebby. Git ap, there," he added to the horses; "you critters are slower'n merlasses in January."

For a few minutes they rode in silence, the dust eddying around them and only the creak of the wagon, the thump of the horses' hoofs, and the swish of the gad breaking the stillness.

Goldstein, his satchel on his knees, kept flicking a gaudy and heavily perfumed handkerchief in front of his face to clear away the dust. Matt was busy with his thoughts, and was wondering what was to happen at the end of the journey.

Abruptly, Pryne turned again in his seat.

"Seems, too," he ventured, "as how Grattan said this Bunce was a sailor an' wore sailor clothes."

"That's the other fellow again, Pryne," Matt smiled. "You haven't got much of a memory, I guess."

"Waal, it ain't long, but it's mighty keen."

"My cracious," murmured Goldstein, "but der dust is bad. How much farther is it yet?"

"We turn at the next crossroads and pull up a hill," answered Pryne; "then we leave the hill road for a ways, an' we're there. It's my ole sugar camp. Trees is mostly played out, though, an' we don't make sugar there no more. It kinder 'pears to me like," he added, another thought striking him, "Grattan said Bunce had whiskers around his jaws."

"That's the other pal," said Matt.

"Git ap, there, Prince!" called Pryne, slapping the off horse with the gad.

"How long have you known Grattan, Pryne?" inquired Matt.

"Always, since I got married. My wife's his sister. Annaballe--that's the old woman--she's English, she is. Come over visitin' in Cairo, ten year back, an' I up and asked her to marry me. Grattan was to the weddin', an' that was the first an' only time we'd met till a few days ago. Great traveler, Grat is. He's been to Ejup, an' Rooshia, an' Chiny an' all them countries. Great traveler. Takes pictur's for these here movin'-picture machines."

Matt heard this with interest. It reminded him of another time when he had encountered a moving-picture man and had had a particularly thrilling experience. And this experience with Grattan promised to be even more thrilling.

"Is the sugar camp a safe place?" asked Matt.

"Nobody ever goes to the old camp now no more," replied Pryne.

"My cracious, vat a dust!" said Goldstein. "How big is der Eye?" he whispered to Matt.

"Wait till you see it," Matt answered.

"Pigeon's blood, yes?"

Matt supposed he meant to ask if the Eye of Buddha was a pigeon's blood ruby. Taking a chance, Matt nodded.

"She is a true Oriental, eh?" went on Goldstein, a greedy glint coming into his eyes.

"It must be if it comes from China."

"So! If she weigh five carat, she is vorth ten times so much as a diamond. But diamonds ain't vorth so much now."

Matt looked behind him. The sack of middlings was half emptied.

"Are we halfway to the old sugar camp, Pryne?" Matt called.

"Better'n that," was the reply. "Here's where we turn for up the hill."

The hill was long and high, and the road turned into a little-used trail and ascended through timber. The horses pulled and panted and the gad fell mercilessly.

"Somethin' of a climb," said Pryne casually. "One of them tires back there is loose--the one on the right-hand side. Kinder keep an eye on it, will you?"

Matt looked at the tire, which was on his side of the wagon. As yet, it was all right. Matt hoped it would remain so, for if Pryne got out to drive it on he might discover the loss of his middlings--and other things which would have a tendency to excite his suspicions.

"Der dust ain't so much here," observed Goldstein, in a tone of relief.

"Ain't so many wagons to churn it up," said Pryne.

Then fell silence again, Matt busy with his thoughts.

Where was Tsan Ti? While Matt was running down the Eye of Buddha for him, what was the Chinaman, to whom the recovery of the ruby meant so much, doing?

These speculations were bootless, and Matt fell to thinking of the glass balls. If Grattan had a supply of them, all the men McGlory could bring would not be able to prevent him from getting away.

Success in the king of the motor boys' venture hung by an exceedingly slender thread.

"It will be hard business to cut it up," came the voice of Goldstein, breaking roughly into Matt's somber reflections.

"Hard to cut what up?" Matt asked.

"Der Eye. When it ain't best to sell precious stones in one piece, then we cut them up."

Matt understood what the Jew was driving at. Large diamonds are hard to market, especially if the diamonds have been stolen. In order to dispose of them they are often cut up into smaller stones.

"You see," proceeded Goldstein, "dis ruby is valuable because of its size, yes. Der size makes all der difference. If it is cut under fife carat, dere vasn't much sale. Anyhow, diamonds is sheaper as they was. I lose a lot of money by der fall in der price of diamonds."

"Here's where we turn from the hill road an' strike out for the sugar camp," remarked Pryne.

He swerved from the steep road as he spoke and drove into a bumpy swath cut through the timber. For half a mile or more they jolted and banged along, then Pryne pulled to a halt.

"I'll hitch here," said he, getting out, "an' I'll leave the rig. The rest of the way we'll go on foot. It ain't fur," he added hastily, noticing the solicitous glance which Goldstein threw at his patent-leather shoes.

"First time I efer come to a place like this to buy precious stones," remarked the Jew, clambering slowly down.

Matt had a bad two minutes waiting for Pryne to hitch the horses and fearing he would come to the rear of the wagon and discover the slashed bag of feed. But Pryne was apparently unsuspicious.

Turning away from the tree to which he had hitched the horses, he called to Matt and Goldstein to follow him.

Their path took them through the old sugar "bush," among maples that were dead and dying and whose trunks were deeply scarred by the sap hunters. Presently an old log building came into view.

"There's the place," said Pryne.

Part of the building was nothing more than a tumble-down shed. One end of the structure, however, was walled in, and seemed to have been made habitable by the use of rough boards.

A length of stovepipe stuck up through the roof--about the only visible sign that the place was used as a dwelling.

With Pryne in the lead, the odd little group moved around the side of the log wall to a door.

To say that Matt's heart did not beat more quickly, or that visions of violence did not float before his mental gaze, would be to say that he was not human.

He had a keen realization of the dangers into which he was about to throw himself. The moment he passed the door deception would be a thing of the past. Grattan would recognize him as a stranger--a prying stranger who had come to the sugar camp with the intention of securing the Eye of Buddha.

Matt's problem was to engage Grattan's attention, and keep him from going to extremes, until McGlory should arrive with reënforcements.

Just how Matt was to do this he did not know. He was trusting to luck--and luck had not been favoring him to any great extent lately.

The door of the log hut was closed. Pryne rapped on it.

"Who's there?" demanded a voice from within.

"It's Pryne, Grat," was the answer.

"Goldstein and Bunce with you?"

"Sure. I've fetched 'em."

"Then bring them in. I'm ready and waiting."

Pryne bore down on the wooden latch and threw open the door.

"Go right in, gents," said he, stepping back.

Goldstein, with a laugh, passed through the door first. Matt followed. Pryne brought up the rear and closed the door.

What light there was in the one room in which Matt found himself came through the broken roof. There were no windows in the log walls.

"He was there, all right, Grat," cried Pryne, with a loud guffaw, "an' he didn't make no bones about comin' with me. He was mighty anxious to come, seemed like, but I don't calculate he guessed he'd find so many folks here."

Matt's eyes, by that time, had become accustomed to the gloom, and he was able to look around and distinguish various objects.

First, he saw a heavy-set man on a bench. This man had a dark face and a sinister eye, and was leaning back against the wall. Both his hands clung to a buckthorn cane with a large wooden handle. The cane was crossed against one of his knees and held it slightly elevated.

"Throw yer binnacle lights this way, my hearty, as soon's ye're done sizin' up my shipmate," came a voice from the opposite side of the room.

Matt whirled, a startled exclamation escaping his lips.

It was the one-eyed sailor who had spoken. The fellow was sitting on another bench, a wide grin on his weather-beaten face.

The trap had been sprung--and it was the most complete trap Matt had ever been in.

"I told ye more'n once to leave the Eye o' Buddha alone," chuckled Bunce, "but ye wouldn't take a warnin'. _Now_, see where ye are!"