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TITLE: JACK NORTH'S TREASURE HUNT
AUTHOR: ROY ROCKWOOD
EBOOK: E05845 (O'Briens Book Cellar)
LANGUAGE: ENGLISH

[Illustration: DOWN THEY PLUNGED SIDE BY SIDE FROM THE ISLAND AND INTO THE
WATER.]

JACK NORTH'S TREASURE HUNT

Or,

Daring Adventures in South America
BY
ROY ROCKWOOD

Author of "The Rival Ocean Divers," "The Cruise of the
Treasure Ship," "A Schoolboy's Pluck," etc.

<i>Illustrated</i>

THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.
CLEVELAND   NEW YORK

Made in U.S.A.

Copyright, 1907, by
CHATTERTON-PECK COMPANY
PRESS OF
THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO
CLEVELAND

Contents

     I.  A Chance for a Position
    II.  The Test of Strength
   III.  A Long Trip Proposed
    IV.  Just in Time
     V.  On the Island of Robinson Crusoe
    VI.  A Terrible Mistake
   VII.  A Plea of the Enemy
  VIII.  The Lonely Pimento
    IX.  Jack Becomes an Engineer
     X.  A Narrow Escape
    XI.  Under the Head of a Jaguar
   XII.  Put to the Test
  XIII.  Precious Moments
   XIV.  The Attack on the Train
    XV.  The Treasure Island
   XVI.  At the Boiling Lake
  XVII.  In the Nitrate Fields
 XVIII.  An Alarm of Fire
   XIX.  Chilians on Both Sides
    XX.  Preparations for Departure
   XXI.  A Panic on Shipboard
  XXII.  The Fate of Plum Plucky
 XXIII.  Jenny
  XXIV.  Jack and the Ocelot
   XXV.  In the Quicksands
  XXVI.  A Night in the Jungle
 XXVII.  Jack and the Big Snake
XXVIII.  Back from the Dead
  XXIX.  The Treasure of the Boiling Lake
   XXX.  A Ride for Life--Conclusion

Jack North's Treasure Hunt

Chapter I

A Chance for a Position

"Where are you going, Jack?"

"To the shops of John Fowler & Company."

"To look for a job?"

"Yes."

"Then you are in luck, for I heard this morning that they want another
striker in the lower shop at once."

"Then I'll <i>strike</i> for the opening at once, and my name is not Jack
North if I don't land it."

"It will be John Slowshanks when you do get it, mind me!" cried out
another voice, from an alley-way near at hand, and before Jack North or
his companion could recover from their surprise the speaker, a tall,
awkward youth of twenty, sped up the street at the top of his speed.

The scene was in Bauton, a large manufacturing city of New England. The
first speaker was a workman at the shops that had been mentioned, but
beyond the fact that he placed the youth before him in the way of getting
work, he needs no special introduction.

The other person was a lad of eighteen, with brown, curly hair, blue eyes,
and a round, robust figure. His name was John North, and he was the son of
a couple in humble circumstances.

"Take care!" cried the man, "that sneak will get in ahead of you, and then
a snap of your little finger for your chance of getting the job at
Fowler's."

Jack North did not stop to hear his friend through. He was very much in
need of a situation, and he knew the young man who had rushed in ahead of
him as a bitter enemy. That fact, coupled with his desire to get work,
caused him to dash up the street as fast as he could run.

Naturally the appearance of the two running at such a headlong pace
aroused the attention of the passers-by, all of whom stopped to see what
it meant. Others rushed out of their houses, offices or workshops to
ascertain the meaning of the race, until the street was lined with
excited, anxious men, women and children.

"Is it fire?" asked an old, gray-headed man, and another, catching only
the sound of the last word, repeated it and thus a wild alarm was quickly
spread.

Meanwhile Jack North had found that he could not overtake his rival. He
was not a fleet runner, while the other had gotten a start of him, which
he could not hope to make up.

But he was too fertile in his resources to despair. In fact he was never
known to give up a contest which he had once fairly entered. This
persistence in whatever he undertook was the secret of Jack North's
wonderful success amid environments which must have discouraged less
courageous hearts.

Still it looked to his enemy, as the latter glanced back to see him
leisurely turn into a side street leading away from their destination,
that he had nothing further to fear from him.

"Thought you would be glad to give in," cried out the delighted seeker of
the situation at the engine shops, and believing that he had nothing
further to fear, the awkward youth slackened his gait to a walk.

Though Jack turned into the alley at a moderate pace, as soon as he had
gone a short distance, he started again into a smart run.

"I shall have farther to go," he thought, "but Fret Offut will think I
have given up, and thus he will let me get in ahead of him."

This seemed the truth, when, at last, Jack came in sight of the low-walled
and scattering buildings belonging to John Fowler & Co., engine builders.

Fret Offut was nowhere in sight, as Jack entered the dark, dingy office at
the lower end of the buildings.

A small sized man, with mutton chop side whiskers, engaged in overhauling
a pile of musty papers, looked up at the entrance of our hero.

"Want a job as striker, eh?" he asked, as Jack stated his errand. "I
believe Henshaw does want another man. I will call him. What is your
name?"

"Alfret Offut, sir. It's me that wants the job, and it's me it belongs
to."

It was Jack North's enemy who spoke, as he paused on the threshold panting
for breath, while glaring at our hero with a baleful look.

"How come you here?" he demanded of Jack, a second later.

"My feet brought me here, and with less slowness than yours, judging by
your appearance," replied young North.

With the arrival of the second person on the scene, the clerk had turned
away to find Henshaw, and while he was gone the rival youths stood glaring
upon each other.

After a short time a big, red-faced, soot-be-grimed man appeared, saying
as he reached them:

"If Offut will come this way I will talk with him."

"Henshaw," said the clerk simply, returning to his work, leaving the
newcomer to attend to the visitors as he thought best.

"Ha--ha!" laughed young Offut, softly, as he followed the foreman, "where
are you now, Jack North?"

Though Jack gave slight token of his feelings, he was more vexed at this
usurpation of his rights than he cared to show. He lost no time in
starting after the others in the direction of the shop. "I'm going on
twenty-one," Offut said, as they stopped at the door, "and there ain't a
chap as can outlift me."

"Beg your pardon, Mr. Henshaw," said Jack, brushing up, "but it's I who am
after the job and to whom it belongs. Mr. Jacobs--"

"Is your name Alfret Offut?" interrupted the other youth sharply in the
midst of Jack's speech. "I reckon Henshaw knows who he is talking to." "It
was me Mr. Jacobs recommended the place to, and you are trying to steal it
from me," cried Jack. "You are telling a likely story, Jack North, and if
you say another word I'll hit you. Henshaw called for me, and it's me he's
going to give work."

Mr. Henshaw, who for the first time seemed to realize the situation,
looked surprised, as he gazed from one to the other.

Disliking to raise a fuss Jack remained silent at first, but he felt bound

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