pag124iloIN THE SWAMP
pag124ilo
IN THE SWAMP
When the dogs entered the Swamp Mr. Simmons tried to follow, but he soon found his way barred by the undergrowth, by the trailing vines, the bending trees, the rank canes. He must needs leave his horse or lead it when he entered the Swamp. He chose to do neither, but sat in his saddle and waited, Pluto waiting with him, ready to go in when the word was given.
When the hounds entered the Swamp they were in full cry. They struggled through the vines, the briers, and the canes, and splashed through the spreading arms of the lagoon. Suddenly they ceased to cry. Then Mr. Simmons heard a strange snarling and snapping, an ominous crashing, fierce snorting, and then howls and screams of pain from his hounds.
"A cat, by jing!" he exclaimed aloud. Intent on saving his hounds if possible, he gave Pluto the word, and that savage brute plunged into the Swamp with gleaming red jaws and eager eyes.
Mr. Simmons never really knew what happened to his hounds, but the Swamp knew. When they splashed past the White Pig that fierce guardian of the Swamp sprang from his lair and rushed after them. They tried hard to escape, but the hindmost was caught. The White Pig ran by his side for the space of three full seconds, then, lowering his head, he raised it again with a toss sidewise, and the hound was done for—ripped from flank to backbone as neatly as a butcher could have done it. Another was caught on the horn of the red steer and flung sheer into the lagoon. Sound, the leader, fell into Rambler's jaws, and some old scores were settled there and then. Pluto came charging blindly in. He saw the White Pig and made for him, experience telling him that a hog will run when a dog is after it; but experience did him small service here. The White Pig charged to meet him, seeing which Pluto swerved to one side, but he was not nimble enough. With a downward swoop and an upward sweep of his snout the White Pig caught Pluto under the shoulder with his tusk and gave him a taste of warfare in the Swamp. Another dog would have left the field, but Pluto had a temper.He turned and rushed at the White Pig, and the Swamp prepared to witness a battle royal. But just then there was a whizzing, zooning sound in the air, a thud, and Pluto tumbled over and fell in a heap. Aaron had ended the cur's career as suddenly as if he had been blown to pieces by a cannon. There was one stone missing from the store of ammunition at the foot of the big poplar.
Meanwhile, Rambler was worrying Sound, and the White Pig, seeing no other enemy in sight, went running to the scene of that fray. His onslaught was so furious that Rambler thought it good manners to get out of Grunter's way. So he loosed his hold on Sound, and jumped aside. Sound was still able to do some jumping on his own account, and he turned tail and ran, just as the White Pig was about to trample him under foot. But he was not quick enough to escape with a whole skin. The tusk of the White Pig touched him on the hind leg, and where it touched it tore.
Mr. Simmons had five dogs when he came to the Swamp. Sound came out to him after the morning's adventure, but had to be carried home across the saddle bow. Two days later another ofthe dogs went limping home. Three dogs were left in the Swamp. Mr. Simmons blew his horn, and called for some time, and then he slowly went his way.
He had a great tale to tell when he got home. His dogs had jumped a wildcat at the river, chased him to the Swamp, and there they found a den of wildcats. There was a great fight, but three of the dogs were killed, and the cats were so fierce that it was as much as Mr. Simmons could do to escape with his life. Indeed, according to his tale, the biggest cat followed him to the edge of the Swamp. And he told this moving tale so often that he really believed it, and felt that he was a sort of hero.
As for the Swamp, it had a rare frolic that night. All the mysteries came forth and danced, and the Willis-Whistlers piped as they had never piped before, and old Mr. Bullfrog joined in with his fine bass voice. And the next morning Mr. Buzzard, who roosted in the loblolly pine, called his sanitary committee together, and soon there was nothing left of Pluto and his companions to pester the Swamp.