“If Wyckoff and his gang don’t get there first.”

“What I want to know,” Charley spoke up, “is what makes this line and the others, too, so uneven.  They are soaked right into the leather and looks as if the ink hadn’t run evenly.”

“Frank,” queried Jack, “what do you make of it?”

“I’d hate to say right out,” Frank answered, “but it looks to me like the old Don had run out of ink and used a little red ink from the arm of one of his trusty followers.  A little hot water would set it and turn it black so it would never fade.”

“That’s horrible,” shuddered Tom.  “I don’t like to think of such a thing.  It makes me shivery all over just to think of it.”

“Well, we’ll get over to Biloxi as soon as we can and look over the ground.  When we think we’ve located the treasure, we’ll just shove a spade into the sand and up’ll come the dollars.”

“Sure, Tom, you’ve got it all doped out to a dot.”

“Where are we now?  Seems we ought to be nearly to Biloxi by this time.  We’ve been hitting up a pretty good pace.”

“We’ve got a long ways to go yet.  There’s Pascagoula over there on the starboard side now.  We ran some little distance to the east.”

“Sail ho,” sung out Charley who was keeping a lookout from the top of the pilot house.  “I see a man in a row boat.”

“Where away?” asked Jack.

“Almost dead ahead!  He’s not rowing very hard.”

“How shall I head to pick him up?” Jack questioned.

“Just a trifle to starboard.  There.  Steady as she goes.”

In a short time the Fortuna driven by her powerful engines came up to the rowboat.  As the boys approached the lone occupant of the skiff all were eager to see who it might be.

“Some early morning fisherman,” ventured Arnold.

“He isn’t fishing,” declared Harry.  “He’s resting on his oars.”

Harry now mounted to the pilot house roof and took the glasses.

“I know that chap,” he cried.  “Better starboard your helm and go to port of him.  We don’t want to get any closer to that chap.”

“Who is it, Harry?” asked Jack.

“Little Simple Simon Sorefooted Carlos Madero at your service.”

“He got run over once by getting in the way of this vessel.  I wonder if he’s trying it again,” mused Jack, holding the Fortuna on her course.  “We’ve got crew enough now so that we can mount guard over him day and night if we want to.  Let’s pick him up and see what he knows.  We can easily tow his skiff along.”

“Sure!  Let’s pick up a shark or two!  Let’s explode some dynamite in the cabin.  Let’s drill holes in the ship.  Let’s anything.”

“Now don’t get sarcastic, if you please.  Madero didn’t do all those things.  He tried something once and didn’t make it work.”

“Yes, and he got a sore foot, too!  He’s out here for more.”

Answering the hail from the Fortuna, Madero, for it was he, asked to be taken aboard.  He seemed weak and unable to help himself.  When his condition became apparent the boys were all sympathy.  They quickly helped him over the rail and then took his boat in tow.