The Motor Boys After a Fortune; or, The Hut on Snake Island

“But, Professor, do you really think it’s true?” asked Ned Slade, looking at the elderly gentleman, whose bald head glistened in the sunlight, as he sat leafing the pages of a scientific book.

“Is what true, Ned?” inquired Jerry Hopkins, who had crossed the room to look out of a window.

“What Professor Snodgrass was telling just now, about a fortune in radium being on a lonely little island in the Colorado River, somewhere in the Grand Canyon.”

“Radium!” gasped Bob Baker, turning slowly in a big chair.

“Yes, radium,” answered Ned, at whose house the other motor boy chums had called to meet their old friend, the professor, who was paying a short visit to Mr. Slade. “Radium, Bob. Do you get the idea, or are you still trying to figure out how long it will be until lunch time?”

“Aw, quit it,” begged the fat lad. “I guess I can think of something besides grub, once in a while. But I wasn’t listening very closely. What is it about radium? That’s the stuff they use to set diamonds in, instead of gold; isn’t it?”

“Say, what’s the matter with you, Bob?” cried Jerry, a tall, and well-built lad, as he wheeled around from the window. “Set diamonds in radium? You’re thinking of platinum, I guess.”

“Oh, that’s right!” admitted Bob.

“Radium!” broke in Ned. “I guess they’d be more likely to set radium in a diamond, if they could; eh, Professor?”

“Well,” admitted the little scientist with a smile, “it’s valuable enough to be set in diamonds, but I’m afraid it would be too dangerous to carry around that way. It can’t be exposed carelessly, you know.”

“Dangerous?” asked Bob. “How’s that?”

“Radium, that wonderful metal, as it is sometimes called, and about which so much has been written, yet about which even the greatest scientists admit that they know very little, can cause very severe burns if brought near a person, and not protected in some way.

“The rays, or emanations from it, pass through almost all substances, you know, and not only does it cause burns, but also forms of mental diseases. It is a dangerous, as well as very valuable, metal.”

“But what’s this Ned said about some being on an island in the Grand Canyon of the Colorado?” persisted Bob. “That sounds interesting. Maybe there’s a chance for us to take a trip, and get some. Let’s hear more about it, Professor, please.”

“Well, I don’t know that I can say much,” came from the scientist. “I just happened to see a mention of radium in this book I was looking at, and I just told Ned that there was said to be a valuable deposit of it on this island--Snake Island, I believe it is called--though I don’t know why. Probably from some Indian name.”

“And I asked him if he believed it was true,” added Ned.

“As to that I can’t say,” resumed Uriah Snodgrass. “All I know is that some years ago a scientific expedition from Hartwell College set out to learn if the rumor about the radium was true. They had the story, I understand, from some prospectors who were searching for gold. The prospectors landed on this island, because their boat was wrecked, and one of them picked up a piece of stone, whether it was hornblende or pitchblende I can’t recall, but you know radium is often found in those substances.

“At any rate, one of the prospectors kept this piece of mineral, and when he and his friends left the island he took it with him, not knowing what it was. Later he gave it to a scientist, as a curiosity, and the latter at once recognized what it was, and learned where it came from.

“It was sent to Hartwell College, with which the scientist was connected, and aroused a great deal of interest. An expedition was at once fitted up, and about a year ago started for Snake Island.”

“Did they get there?” asked Bob eagerly. “And did they get any gold?”

“They did not, I regret to say,” replied the professor rather solemnly. “As for gold, they would scarcely have picked it up, had there been any, if there was radium to be had, for there is no comparison in the values of the two. With radium at ten thousand dollars, or so, an ounce, you can easily figure what a little bit would be worth.

“At any rate, the expedition never even got to Snake Island. They started down the Colorado in a boat, but it was wrecked, and the party barely escaped alive. This so discouraged them that they returned, and as far as I know, no one since has set foot on the place where the radium is supposed to be. Yes, it was a sad piece of business.”

“Why sad?” asked Jerry Hopkins. “Because science missed the chance to get the radium?”

“Well, yes, in a way, but one of the searching party was lost.”

“Drowned?” asked Ned.

“As to that no one ever knew. He fell into the water when the boat was wrecked, and none of his friends ever saw him again. They had a watch kept on the river below, but the body was never seen. The man disappeared completely. He was quite a friend of mine, too, in a way, for we corresponded, and exchanged scientific books, though I only saw him a few times. Hartley Bentwell was his name, and he was one of the best authorities on radium that I ever heard of. I often wonder what became of him. He gave his life up in the interests of science.”

“And do you really believe there is radium there?” asked Ned, after a pause.

“Yes, I think I do,” answered the professor quietly. “I had the good fortune to see the piece of mineral, containing some, that the prospector picked up years ago. There was no doubt but that it contained radium, for all the manifestations were present. And if there was one bit of radium on that island, there must be more.”

“Unless it’s all evaporated by this time,” put in Bob.

“Radium doesn’t evaporate,” said the professor with a smile. “The smallest piece you can imagine, will give off what you might call ‘rays’ or ‘sparks’ for thousands of years, and, at the end of that time, the most delicate scales would show no loss of weight. It’s the same way with pure musk. A grain of it has been known to scent, say a box, or chest of drawers, for fifty years, and, at the end of that time, the whole grain of musk was still there.”

“That’s strange,” murmured Jerry.

“Oh, that’s not nearly all the strange facts about radium,” went on Mr. Snodgrass. “I could talk to you for hours about it and not half finish.”

“Tell us more about Snake Island,” suggested Ned.

“That’s all I know,” and the professor closed the book that had started the conversation. “I only heard what I have told you. It was because I was interested in Mr. Bentwell, and felt his loss so much that the tale impressed me. I often thought I would like to have a try for that radium myself, not because of the fortune, but because of the scientific value of the metal, or mineral, whichever you choose to call it. But I never seemed to get the time, and I had so many other things to do, gathering----”

The professor suddenly stopped talking, and made a dive for a certain spot on the carpet. He came down on his hands and knees, holding his palms together.

“I got it!” he cried triumphantly. “Ned, please get my smallest insect case. It’s in my right hand coat pocket,” and the scientist remained on his knees, a look of joy on his face.

“Did you fall?” asked Bob innocently.

“No, indeed, I jumped,” replied the professor. “As I was speaking I happened to see a new variety of pink-winged moth fluttering on the carpet, and as this moth----”

“Moths in my carpet!” cried Mrs. Slade, entering the room at that moment. “Oh, Professor! Let me kill it at once! Where is it?”

“I have it safe,” answered Mr. Snodgrass with a smile. “As for killing it, I’ll do that, but it must be carefully done, so as not to crush it. Have you the box, Ned?”