"Well, I swan!" was the sudden exclamation that broke from the lips of Johnny Spreen, the farmer's bound boy, as he came to a halt.
Elmer, glancing hastily at him, saw the boy rubbing his eyes in a somewhat dazed fashion. He acted for all the world like a fellow who did not feel sure that his sight was as good as usual. Something evidently was amiss.
"What is it?" demanded Lil Artha, in his usual impetuous way.
"The boats!" muttered Johnny Spreen.
"Sure thing, we see 'em!" declared the tall scout.
"How many kin yuh count, tell me?" asked the other, beseechingly, still giving an occasional dab at his eyes, as though doubts clung to his mind regarding their faithfulness.
"Why, let's see, I glimpse three—no, there are only two skiffs afloating in that little bayou," Lil Artha told him.
"Only two, air yuh dead sartin?" continued Johnny.
"That's correct, two boats and no more. I c'n see each one as clear as anything. Why, what difference does that make, Johnny?" asked Toby.
"But ther ought tuh bethree, I tells yuh," insisted the bound boy; "wun two-year old, another built larst season, and the last un just this Spring. Yessir, three on 'em in all."
"Well, I gueth your old boat took a notion to go to the bottom then, Johnny," asserted Ted, "becauth there are only a pair floating there, I give you my word."
"They was every wun thar yist'day," persisted Johnny.
"Are you sure of that?" Elmer asked him.
"Well, my name's Johnny Spreen, ain't it?" demanded the other, grimly; "I'm workin' out my time with Mister Trotter hyar, ain't I? Then I still got two eyes, and I ain't turned loony yit by a long shot. I tell yuh, Elmer, I handled three skiffs yist'day—seen as they was tied securely. And now yuh tells me they be but two."
"Yes, that's a fact," the patrol leader assured him.
"All right then, they gut one, thet's boz."
Elmer expected some such result as this, so after all he did not seem to be very much staggered.
"I suppose by 'them' you mean the chicken thieves, Johnny?" he remarked.
"No other."
"But if the man has been moving around in the swamp for a couple of weeks, more or less, could he do without a boat all that time?" continued the leader.
"I guess he cud, Elmer, though w'en yuh wants tuh trap muskrats yuh need sum sort o' craft the wust kind. P'raps he didn't chanct tuh run across our skiffs up tuh last night. Then agin mebbe he was askeered tuh snatch one, fur fear we'd hunt arter it, an' bother him in the swamp."
"All right, Johnny, I believe you're barking up the proper tree," said Elmer; "but it looks as if the man changed his mind last night, and took a boat."
"Yep, an' by gosh! the newest one o' the lot, too!" groaned the bound boy, as he led them closer to where the other skiffs floated, secured to stakes.
"After all that row," suggested Lil Artha, "it might be they thought we'd give a quick chase, and they couldn't afford to take any more chances. So as a boat'd come in handy for them they gobbled it."
"Anybody'd pick the best in the bunch, come to that," added wise Toby.
"I don't know about that," Mark went on to say; "a really smart fellow would be apt to reason that if he took only the old tub the owner mightn't think it worth while to make much of a hunt for it, not caring whether he got the same again or not."
"I consider that sound reasoning, Mark," observed the patrol leader, who was never happier than when he found some of his followers displaying good judgment in such matters. "But the boat's gone, and our next duty is to take a look around the bank before we get to trampling things up too much. We ought to make sure of things by finding that marked track again."
"It can be done as easy as turning a handspring," vowed Toby Jones, as all of them immediately spread out, fan-shape, like hounds that had lost the scent temporarily, and were searching for it again.
Hardly half a minute had gone when there was an exultant cry raised.
"Didn't I say so?" demanded Toby, triumphantly; "but I never thought Landy of all fellows'd be the one to find the trail."
"Oh! sometimes queer things do happen in this world," asserted the fat scout, swelling with his triumph; "they say the race ain't always to the swift. But take a look, everybody, and see if I'm right."
They looked and unanimously pronounced Landy's judgment correct. There was the imprint of a shoe, aleftshoe in the bargain, beyond doubt, and anyone who had eyes could detect that diagonal mark running across the sole, which Landy had pointed out before as the line of the new leather, placed there while he waited for Hen Condit in the Italian cobbler's shop.
"As plain as the nose on your face, Landy!" admitted Lil Artha, with a trifle of disappointment in his voice, for he had calculated on discovering the tracks himself, and for one who was next door to a greenhorn to do it humiliated the tall scout.
"No personal remarks, please, Lil Artha," said Landy; "I know my nose isn't as prominent as yours, and some others in the crowd, but it answers my purpose all right, and I'm not ashamed of it."
"Well, now we know where we're at," remarked Ted, with a satisfied air, as though it might be a maxim with him to always start right.
"And it's up to us to divide our forces, choose our boats, and make a start," Mark Cummings was saying.
"Ginger! don't I on'y wish I cud be goin' along!" said Johnny Spreen with an expression on his face that could only be described as compound disappointment.
"All of us would be glad if you were, Johnny," Elmer told him, feeling for the boy, whose company would certainly be of considerable help to the expedition, for Johnny knew the watery paths and the tangles of Sassafras Swamp as, perhaps, no other fellow possibly could, since he had long haunted its recesses, laying traps, and looking for new haunts of the wily muskrats.
"As there are seven of us, all told," remarked Lil Artha, "that means three in one boat, and four in the other. Elmer, you divide up. This newer skiff looks to me just a weenty bit the bigger."
"It is by a foot, and wider, too," asserted Johnny, quickly.
"Then it ought to carry four, of course; but how's this, Johnny, where are the oars for both craft; I don't see any!"
"Shucks! we don't use oars in the ole swamp," declared the other. "A push pole's the best way tuh git along. Yuh see it's soft mud everywhar, and so we cuts poles with a crotch at the end. That keeps 'em frum sinking deep in the mud, so yuh kin git a chanct tuh shove."
"And a mighty good idea, too," avowed Toby; "I've had a little experience with just plain everyday push poles, and even got hung up when one stuck in the mud, so the boat left me. But Elmer, how'll we divide?"
The patrol leader glanced over his force. It was only fair that he arrange it so the weight would be as nearly equal as possible.
"Lil Artha, take Mark and Landy in the smaller skiff; the rest will go with me," he announced immediately.
Mark was the nearest chum of the patrol leader, but Elmer disliked favoritism, and hence he thus tacitly placed Lil Artha in command of the second boat. But then there was also another good reason for doing this, since the tall scout had always shown himself to be clever on the water, much more so than the bugler of the troop.
Johnny was already showing them how to pull the skiffs in by means of a rope attached to each. It was a good way of mooring them when not in use.
"Yuh see the third boat was drawed up on the shore here," he remarked in a disconsolate tone; "'cause I was ausin' her right along. I guess that's the reason they took the best o' the lot."
When the two boats had been brought to the shore, packs were distributed in the same, according to the directions of the leader. These were not hastily tossed aboard, but placed where they would be out of the way of the one who was using the long push-pole.
"Thank goodneth we've got our camp hatchet along," remarked Ted, as he took his place, "tho even if we do lose or bweak our pole we can alwayth cut another one."
"Yep, I never go intuh the swamp without my hatchet," asserted Johnny. "Yuh see it comes in mighty handy when yuh want tuh make a fire, or cut a way through sum tangled snarl o' brush. Then, besides, I find a use fur the same in setting traps, fur mushrats ain't ther on'y kind o' fur we bags araound these diggings."
Some of the boys might have liked keeping up the talk, especially when it bordered on such an interesting subject. Elmer, however, knew that time was valuable to them just then, with such a difficult task ahead. They had to find two parties who were secreted somewhere in the swamp; and as Lil Artha declared it was "pretty much like looking for a needle in a haystack."
Johnny stood there on the bank, and waved his hat to the scouts as he watched them poling away. They could almost imagine they heard the tremendous sigh that came from his breast as he saw a glorious chance for real fun pass from his grasp.
"Good-bye, an' good luck tuh yuh all!" he called out.
Following the serpentine passage of clear water, the two boats soon passed from the sight of the bound boy, though doubtless he could still hear gurgling sounds as the push-poles were worked, and the flat prows of the skiffs passed over the numerous water-lily pads.
And now the swamp was before them.
All of the scouts surveyed the scene with lively anticipations. They could easily understand that the immediate future might throw all manner of strange adventures across their path, and, like most boys, Elmer and his chums were ever hungry for exciting things to happen—it was in the blood.
But, then, at first the borders of the big Sassafras Swamp did not look so very forbidding. Elmer warned them not to expect that this condition of affairs would last long.
"You remember what Johnny told us," he remarked so that all of them could hear his words; "it keeps getting worse the further you go in. Things are easy to begin with, but after a while we'll have our hands full. Above all things we must keep our heads about us, for if we do that we'll escape getting lost."
"Then Johnny did admit a fellow could get lost in this place, did he?" inquired Landy, uneasily.
"He used to lose his way often when he first started coming in here after muskrats," confessed Elmer; "and then he began to have some system about his excursions so that by degrees he got it all down pat."
"Yes, Johnny said he believed he could pole a boat pretty much into the heart of Sassafras with his eyes shut or bandaged," remarked Lil Artha.
"Too bad he couldn't get off and be along with us," lamented Landy; "and Elmer, if we'd only promised Farmer Trotter five dollars a day he'd have let his help join us, I'm sure of that."
"Huh! too bad you didn't think of that before, Landy, and put it up to Elmer," jeered Lil Artha; "but I wouldn't bother too much about it if I was you. Chances are we won't get lost much; and by the same token, even if we do it'll be some kind of a sensation to wake us up."
Landy scratched his head, but not knowing how much of this was intended by his tormentor he did not reply. As they were gradually working further into the dense growth by now there was enough around them to chain their attention and arouse their interest.
In some places they could see that the shore stood above the sluggish water, although covered for the most part with dense shrubbery that would be difficult to pass through. Channels began to be met with running to the right and left, so that it behooved Elmer to remember the explicit directions given by the muskrat trapper if he wished to avoid getting side-tracked in the start.
Lil Artha, in the other boat, was also using his knowledge of woodcraft to some purpose. When it happened that the two skiffs came alongside he called out to Elmer, as if to settle some point he had in mind.
"Even if I hadn't listened when Johnny was laying down the law to us about the main channel in here, Elmer, I reckon I'd had no trouble stickin' to the same, up to now, anyhow."
"Why tho, Lil Artha?" asked Ted Burgoyne.
"It's just this way," continued the other, briskly, as though only too willing to show his hand, "you see Johnny has followed the same passage in here so often now he's actually gone and left a trail behind him."
"Say, what are you giving us, Lil Artha?" demanded Toby; "on shore a trail is all very well, but the water leaves none. Once it settles down after a boat's passed, I defy anybody to tell a thing about the same."
Lil Artha grinned as though he really pitied the dense ignorance of some people.
"You've got another think coming, Toby," he said, drily. "I suppose if you sat down and racked your poor brain a whole week you'd be no nearer knowing what I mean, so I'll have to explain."
"Guess you will, that," muttered Toby; "if you know yourself what you're getting at, which I doubt."
"Looky there," said the skipper of the second skiff, "do you notice that where we make this turn to the left the bushes along the point are kind of frayed, like something had rubbed against 'em a heap of times?"
"Why, yes, it does seem so," admitted Toby, reluctantly.
"All right then," continued Lil Artha; "if you'd kept your eyes about you all the while you'd seen that same thing at near every turn. Trying to cut short when he poled along, Johnny has left a track of his passage at every bend. I always look sharp, and I can tell as easy as falling off a log whether he went on, or cut into another passage. And Elmer will bear me out on that explanation, too!"
The leader of the Wolf Patrol laughed when he heard Lil Artha make this remark.
"Every word that you are saying, Lil Artha, is the truth," he announced. "I've been watching those ragged edges of bushes myself. You see, the time might come after a while when I'd get mixed on the directions given by Johnny Spreen. Then I'd want to have some other scheme so as to find my way."
"But after a bit, Elmer, we'll get to a spot where Johnny changed his course from one day to another, as he went to different traps; how're we meaning to regulate our hunt then?" asked Toby.
"We've got to search the best way we can for the missing skiff," Elmer explained. "If only we can find it hauled up somewhere on the bank we'll know they went ashore at that point, don't you see?"
"Why, how eathy!" declared Ted, evidently lost in admiration for the simplicity of the scheme, that could never have occurred to him before.
"Oh! then, if that's the case I reckon we'd better not be making quite so much racket as we go along," said Mark.
"I was just going to remark about that," the patrol leader added. "If all of a sudden we found the boat, and had been talking loud, or laughing, the chances are the game would give us the slip. So after this whoever is doing the pushing try not to splash more than you can help; and when you talk do it in whispers."
Perhaps all this mystery added to the pleasure of such a fellow as Lil Artha; at least his eyes were sparkling much more than their wont as he continued to ply his pole with the air of a Venetian gondolier along the Grand Canal.
Once, however, he must have rammed it too hard into the yielding ooze, for when he tried to pull it out there was considerable resistance. Lil Artha managed to stop the moving skiff in time to save himself; even then he might have been pulled overboard only that watchful Mark, anticipating something of the sort, threw his arms around the long legs of the pusher, and held on grimly until the pole could be extricated.
An hour, two of them had slipped by since parting from Johnny Spreen. They were now in the heart of the swamp. All around them lay a solemn silence broken only by the splash of a bullfrog leaping from a bank, the gurgle of some water snake or the solemn croak of a bittern fishing near by, followed by the flap of its wings as it flew away, alarmed by their approach.
All of the boys were more or less impressed by this strange silence. It seemed as though some heavy weight were pressing down upon them. Toby even whispered to one of his mates that it could hardly be worse if they were passing through a country graveyard at midnight.
At the same time, all of them being bright, wide-awake fellows, there were plenty of interesting things continually cropping up to arouse their interest as scouts. Every minute or so someone was calling attention to this or that thing, though never forgetting the need of caution.
If at any time a voice was raised more than Elmer deemed wise, a single "hist" from his lips caused the speaker to moderate his tones instantly.
By now they were not so much concerned about where they went as the possibility of finding the missing skiff. Eager eyes were ever on the alert. A number of times Lil Artha, or it might be Toby or Chatz, felt a sudden thrill as some object caught their attention ahead, which at first glance seemed to open up great possibilities. Then as they moved closer and a better chance came to investigate, deep disappointment and chagrin would follow; for after all it turned out to be only the end of a log, or some such simple thing, and not the stern of the old skiff at all.
Elmer happened to be a little ahead of the other boat at the time Chatz, consulting his nickel watch, found it was just ten o'clock. When he showed this to Toby the latter grinned as though very much pleased.
"I nominated ten, didn't I, Chatz?" he remarked in a low tone; "when you asked me to take a squint up at the sun, and say what the hour might be?"
"You certainly hit it that time in the bull's-eye, suh," admitted the Southern lad; "and I confess that I thought it half an hour later. I'm still some shy, it seems, on telling time by the sun and stars."
A low hiss from Elmer just then, as he wielded the pole, caused the two scouts to stop talking, and turn their attention to what was going on. The first thing they discovered was that the skiff was now heading for the near shore. Then looking further the boys could see that evidently someone must have camped there, for to the practiced eye many things indicated as much.
When the prow of the flat-bottomed boat ran gently up on the shore, at a low order from the skipper, Ted, who happened to be further up in the bow than any of the others, jumped to the land and began to draw the skiff up.
There was a bank several feet high just beyond, but Ted waited until the others had also disembarked before attempting to ascend this. By now the other boat had also reached shore, with its crew tumbling out, though avoiding any sign of confusion, for they were pretty well drilled in the elements of obedience to orders, as all true scouts should be.
No sooner had the boys gained the higher ground than they readily discovered that it had been the site of a camp at some time in the not far-distant past.
A number of things told them this, chief of which might be mentioned the little pile of dead ashes that lay in plain sight. They could even see the sticks that the unknown party had used when cooking some sort of meat close to the red coals.
All of them gathered around. Elmer gravely examined the ashes, while the others eagerly waited to hear his decision.
"Quite some time old," said the leader at last, having figured out the solution by means of certain rules well known to those who have made woodcraft a study. "At least a couple of rains have passed over since this fire was left. There are no footprints that I can see. That also goes to show it was some time ago; but I think it was only one person who camped here."
He pointed as he spoke to where soft hemlock browse had been gathered as if for the purpose of forming a couch; and there being but a single bed even Landy could guess Elmer was correct when he said one party had made the temporary camp.
"Then it must have been the unknown man," said Lil Artha, "and our chum Hen wasn't along at the time."
They moved around as if looking for further signs, because scouts are always keen to find tell-tale marks that will add to the size of the edifice they are building up, founded partly on conjecture and also on "give-away" facts.
Lil Artha it was who emitted a low whistle, and the others glancing up, well knowing that he must have made some sort of important discovery, saw him waving one of his hands to them—he held the Marlin double-barrel with the other, of course.
"See that?" he told them when they reached his side amidst the bushes adjacent to the little opening where the long-cold fire ashes lay.
"Feathers, for a cookey!" exclaimed Toby, "and a heap of the same, too."
"Now we know what he cooked on the ends of those sticks!" observed Mark.
"Yeth, and now we know where one of Farmer Trotter's henth went to," added Ted.
"This is more than Johnny ever ran across," remarked Lil Artha, "because he only guessed the chicken thief was hiding in the swamp, for he'd seen tracks. Hold on, he did say there was ashes, too, at the place he picked up that filed half-circle of steel, but it must have been in a different place from this."
"Well, it's only a little incident after all," said Elmer, "and doesn't tell us much that we didn't know before."
"Only that we're on the track of those lost chickens, you know," chuckled the tall scout. "But see here, Elmer, if they made a fizzle of their raid last night, how d'ye suppose they're going to keep from starving to death in here?"
"Ask me something easy, please," retorted the other; "though if I was in their place I think I could manage to keep alive. There are lots of ways for doing that, if you only stop to think."
"Sure there are," spoke up Toby, eager to show that he had learned his lesson fairly well, even though not claiming to be as expert at some things as were Elmer and Lil Artha. "Now, with some cord and a bait I reckon rabbits could be trapped or snared. Then gray squirrels are plenty in here, if only you found a nest of the same in a hollow tree."
"And," added Landy with a yearning vein in his voice, "haven't we seen whopping big green-back bullfrogs aplenty? If there's one dish I'm fond of more than any other, that's fried frogs' legs. Yum! yum, don't I wish we could spare the time to knock over a dozen of those bullies."
"Not while we're on such a duty as we started out to fulfill, Landy," Elmer advised the fat scout.
"Then there are fish in these waters, too, fat sunfish as big as any I ever set eyes on," continued Toby; "and when you're hungry they taste prime, though I hate the bones, and came near choking to death once on a sunny. Worse than pickerel, according to my mind, and that's saying a lot. Oh! I guess a smart fellow with matches to make fires, could manage to keep the wolf from his door in here all right."
"But all men are not up to one-tenth of the resources known to Boy Scouts," ventured Elmer, "which is why they generally have to rely on staving off hunger by raiding the chicken roosts of poor farmers. That'll be enough for this time. Suppose we get aboard again, and continue our exploration of Sassafras Swamp."
"It's a sure-enough big patch of mud and water and brush and mystery," admitted Mark, as they began to climb into the boats again as before.
"And from what Johnny told me we haven't seen as much as a tenth of the place yet," Elmer assured them; whereat there were all sorts of incredulous looks to the right and to the left, as though the magnitude of their task might by this time be making a stronger impression on the boys' minds.
A change was made in pushers as they started off once more. It turned out to be no child's play handling that long, heavy pole which had a faculty for clinging to the ooze below the surface of the water, and necessitating more or less exertion in order to drag it loose each time it was used.
Landy had not taken his turn as yet. It really looked as though Lil Artha was a little afraid of the fat scout, for he and Mark had alternated in doing the work. Landy was not complaining at all. Indeed, Lil Artha felt sure he could see a satisfied grin upon the rubicund face of the happy-go-lucky, fat scout from time to time as he heard the one at the pole puffing with the exertion.
Perhaps in the end it would prove to be a case of the "last straw on the camel's back," and Lil Artha, casting discretion to the winds, would feel impelled to thrust the push-pole into the inexperienced hands of Landy Smith. He was evidently putting off the evil hour as long as he could, fearful of consequences.
So noon came and found them well into the depths of Sassafras Swamp.
They went ashore to eat their lunch, Lil Artha begging that they have a small fire and make a pot of coffee.
"I c'n pick up aplenty of real dry wood, you know, Elmer," he went on to say in his wheedling way, "so that there ain't going to be hardly a whiff of smoke that anybody could see with a field glass. And say, when you're all tuckered out with pushing a boat through the grass and lily-pads, nothing makes you feel so fine as a brimming cup of coffee. So please say yes, Mister Scout Master!"
Of course, Elmer could not resist such a piteous plea as that.
"You could wring tears from a stone, Lil Artha," he told the other, laughingly, "when you put on a face like that. I reckon we might have a small cooking fire and a pot of coffee. None of us would object to it, and sandwiches are dry eating all by themselves, even when you're hungry. So go ahead; but no chopping, mind; break all the small stuff you gather over your knee."
Landy eagerly assisted, though Lil Artha kept a watchful eye on what he gathered lest he mix in green stuff that would make a black smoke when it burned. Another scout managed to find a stick with a crotch that would hold the coffee-pot over the blaze until it had boiled.
The scouts were not in the habit of putting up with such apologies for comfort as these; as a rule, when they camped out they had tents, blankets, and a little spider contraption that folded up in small compass, and which served as a gridiron stove, being placed over the red coals, with cooking utensils resting on the bars.
The coffee was thoroughly enjoyed by everyone, and a vote of thanks taken for Lil Artha, who had first suggested making it. Resting for a short time afterwards, the boys felt refreshed when once more the task was taken up.
Lil Artha looked at Landy tumbling contentedly into the middle of the old skiff, and seemed on the point of saying something; then he shook his head and picked up the push-pole himself.
"Not yet, but soon it's just got to be; only I hope he won't upset us all," Mark heard the tall scout mutter to himself, nor did he need a further hint to know what was passing through Lil Artha's mind; Landy was not going to evade his share of the arduous labor forever.
It, doubtless, took considerable thinking and planning on the part of Elmer to make sure they did not "repeat." So far, none of the boys could say as they moved along that they had ever before seen the stretch of water and scrubby shore, covered with trees and vines.
This spoke volumes for the smartness of the young patrol leader, though somehow his chums did not seem to consider it such a wonderful feat for Elmer. That is the penalty for being successful; others expect great things from such a comrade, so that he is constantly put to his best efforts to satisfy them.
It must have been quite some time, perhaps as much as two hours after they had stopped to eat their lunch when without warning the swamp explorers met with a surprise that gave them a new thrill.
At the time, Lil Artha happened to have passed a little in the lead, though he would soon be dropping back again, especially when there came a chance to make a mistake in direction, for he wanted Elmer to decide such puzzles.
The tall scout must have forgotten his warning from Elmer, for he cried out:
"Hey! everybody look what we're up against! A bear, Elmer, that's what it is!"
"Silence, everybody!" hissed Elmer, who knew it would be just like Toby, and perhaps some of the other fellows, to burst into a shout as soon as they could get command of their voices.
It was certainly a bear, a small one to be sure, but genuine enough, and not such as can be seen with wandering foreigners, taught to dance, or wield a pole as a soldier would his musket.
Just when the scouts glimpsed the hairy denizen of Sassafras Swamp, he was engaged in sitting on his haunches and gathering in the bushes with his sturdy forelegs. To Lil Artha, it looked as though Bruin might be making a lunch from the luscious, big blueberries that grew in such abundance here and there through the swamp.
Up to the moment when Lil Artha thus called attention to the presence of the black native, the bear must have been in ignorance of their being so near at hand. When he did notice them, he simply gave a disgusted grunt, and ambled away through the brush. Lil Artha always declared the bear glanced back at them as he ran, and even put out his tongue, just as if he knew it was the close season, and that a kind game law protected him from all harm.
"Say, let me tell you this old Sassy swamp isn't such a bad place for a game preserve after all," said Toby; "I think some of us could enjoy having a week up here, after the law on bears and all such was up. But it's too far from home during the school session, for us to come."
"Oh! I don't know about that," remarked the tall scout, meditatively; "we could borrow a car, and start in the middle of the night when there was a moon. That'd give us a whole day up here. Take it at Thanksgiving and we could make it three, with Friday and Saturday thrown in. Elmer, think it over, won't you?"
"Plenty of time for that," he was assured; "We've got our hands full as it is, without borrowing trouble."
"And perwaps before we're done with it," Ted croaked, "you'll be that tired of seeing nothing but thwamp all around, that you'll vow never again for yourth."
"I'm going to make a proposition, Elmer," said Landy; "and I hope you'll agree. Suppose we go ashore and tackle some of those elegant blueberries ourselves? It's a shame that bears should be the only ones to enjoy such a feast. And it's tough sitting here so long!"
At that Lil Artha grunted, and looking almost savagely at the speaker nodded his head while he muttered:
"That settles it, my boy; I see your finish. You're going to earn your salt after this, no matter what happens!"
Elmer seemed to consider for a few seconds.
"I see no reason why we shouldn't pull up for a little while, just as you say, Landy," he observed, to the delight of the rest; "and everyone of us is fond of a mess of good ripe blueberries. So pitch in while the supply lasts."
The berries were thicker and larger than any they had ever seen before; and Lil Artha declared he considered the judgment of the little black bear "prime."
"He sure knew a good thing when he found it, and so do we," he told those who were working fingers and jaws near him.
When Elmer concluded that "enough was as good as a feast," they once more embarked, and the voyage was resumed. There was a new pusher in the older skiff, however.
"Here, you Landy, suppose you change seats with me," Lil Artha had remarked as the fat scout started to settle down in the middle of the boat, just as though he had a mortgage on that prize seat.
Landy looked worried.
"What for, Lil Artha?" he ventured to say, looking at the skipper with distress plainly marked on his round features; "do you want me to push the boat now? Not but that I'm willing to do anything I'm asked, you know; but I didn't think you'd want to take chances on getting wet, and mebbe losing our packs in the bargain; because I know I'm awful clumsy about some things."
"Well, in this case we'll have to take the risk," said the other, grimly; "the only satisfaction we have is that if anybody does get wet you won't escape. We're all in the same boat, you understand; and we sink or swim together. Now climb up here, and I'll show you how to handle a pusher. Time you learned a few more of the tricks a true scout ought to know."
Landy, apparently, wanted to do his best. He watched how Lil Artha used the heavy pole and then started to imitate him.
"That's the way, Landy," said Mark, desirous of encouraging the stout boy in his new duties; "you can do it all right if you only keep on the watch."
"Course I can," replied the new hand, scornfully; "guess you're all fooled if you think I never pushed a skiff with a pole before."
"So you were just playing 'possum, were you?" demanded the indignant Lil Artha, "bent on fooling me so as to evade hard work, eh? I'd be serving you right, Landy, if I kept you shovin' away the rest of the afternoon. It'd thin you down a trifle, too, because I think you're getting too fat for any use. Go slow there, and don't splash so loud when you drop the pole end in again."
Landy seemed to soon become fairly proficient so that his mentor could turn his attention to other things of interest they happened to see around them as they continued their course.
Crows scolded from the treetops as the two boats glided underneath. This circumstance might probably pass unnoticed by one who knew little or nothing of woodcraft, but to an Indian it would be a sure sign that the sharp-eyed birds had discovered some human being, probably an enemy, and in that way he would be put on his guard against a surprise.
As the man they were looking for did not appear to be educated along these lines, they need not fear that their presence in the swamp would be betrayed through any such agency as crows cawing, or flying about in excitement.
Some time later Toby uttered a low "whew" that caused Chatz, just then in the act of putting the pole back into the water, to hold it suspended in midair.
"Elmer, I may be mistaken," said Toby, "but something moved over in the branches of that tree yonder, and unless my eyes deceived me, which they seldom do, it was a cat!"
"You mean a wildcat, don't you, Toby?" whispered Landy, for the two boats were close enough together for the occupants to have shaken hands, had they wanted to.
"Just what I meant," repeated Toby, firmly. "I can't say that I see him now, for he's somewhere up in the thickest part of the bushy tree; but it must have been something more than a 'coon, because I actually saw the blaze of its eyes!"
"Whew!" gasped Landy, looking as though he wanted to drop the push-pole on the spur of the moment; "get your gun, Lil Artha, why don't you? Mean to let a feller be jumped on, and clawed something awful, do you? I give you my word that if I see a wildcat comin' for me, I'll jump overboard, and let him tackle the rest of you in the boat, that's what. Get your gun, Lil Artha; they're vicious you must know, specially when they've got kits around."
"We haven't lost any cat!" remarked Lil Artha, composedly, as though he really took a cruel satisfaction in seeing Landy shiver; "and, besides, I don't more'n half believe the fairy story. Toby's got to show me before I own up. I reckon some of my people must have come from Missouri."
"Yes, they raise a heap of mules there, I understand," remarked Toby, with considerable sarcasm; "but I'm glad to see that Elmer has thought it worth while to lay hold of his scatter-gun, so as to be ready. Course we don't want any trouble with any old cat; but there's such a thing as armed peace. If she jumps for us, I hope Elmer will give her a load before she lands, that's all. We've got to pass pretty much under some part of that tree, understand?"
Acting on Elmer's initiative, Lil Artha now also picked up his gun, and started to keep a sharp watch. As Toby had truly said, they could not really continue on their way without passing under the wide-stretching branches of the tree where he claimed to have seen "something that looked like a wildcat."
"Get busy there, Landy, use your pole, and push us along. Don't stand there just like you were frozen stiff; we won't let any cat grab you, make up your mind to it. Get a move on you, I say, Landy Smith."
"Oh! well, might as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb, I reckon," muttered the fat scout as he started to make use of his push-pole.
For the time being, caution was thrown to the winds; all Landy considered was the rapidity with which he could get past that ominous tree containing Toby's bobcat.
Perhaps Landy's heart was beating a regular tattoo as he found himself actually compelled to pass under the tree itself, owing to the narrowness of the channel at just that part of the runway. Elmer, watching out of the tail of his eye, could see how pale the other had become, and he was secretly amused.
It was just like Lil Artha, when their skiff was directly under the suspected tree, to utter a low gasp, and proceed to elevate his gun in a hurry, as though sighting the quarry.
Poor Landy came very near having a fit; he dropped the pole overboard and fell backwards in the boat, which came near swamping. Toby, in the other craft, succeeded in rescuing the floating pole before it had gone completely beyond reach.
"Guess I was mistaken that time!" said Lil Artha, without cracking a smile, although no doubt he must have been secretly chuckling at the way the handler of the push-pole had shown alacrity in getting out of range.
So Landy, with a sheepish grin, managed to get on his feet again, and take the rescued pole from Toby's hands. He gave the tall scout a sharp look as though suspecting that it had been a trick intended to play upon his nerves. But then Landy was always a good-natured fellow, and never bore anyone ill-will, no matter what the joke might be of which he became the victim.
Toby could not be persuaded that he had not glimpsed a wildcat in that tree under which they passed. He kept staring back as long as it was possible to catch a view of its leafy branches.
"Well, say what you like," he concluded, "I did seesomethingwhisk out of sight up there; yes, and it had starey eyes in the bargain. If it was a 'coon, then all I can say is they breed queer 'coons up in this old Sassafras Swamp country. There now, that's about enough from me."
"The afternoon is nearly half gone, and we haven't scared up our quarry yet," advised Mark later on.
"Plenty of time, for there's another day coming," said Elmer. "We're here to comb the swamp through from end to end but what we'll find nobody knows. Keep listening, too. It might be possible we'd hear a shout that would give us a clue."
"Say now, I hadn't thought of that before," admitted Toby. "If Henisbeing treated harsh-like by that unknown who's got hold of him, mebbe he might let out a yawp once in a while. There's no harm done in listening, I reckon, and Landy here could tell if it was him giving tongue."
Now and then some sound did come to their ears, but of an entirely different character from the one they were hoping to catch. A granddaddy bullfrog on some mossy log sent out loud and deep-toned demands for "more rum! more rum!" Then a saucy bluejay started in to scold the fellows in the boats for daring to trespass in its preserves, and how the angry bird did lay it on until they were well beyond reach of its chatter.
Once a far-away grumble floated faintly to their ears, at which there was an immediate comparing of opinions. Some seemed to incline to the belief that it must be distant thunder, and that they were bound to soon be caught in a storm, which had been creeping unnoticed up on them, the dense foliage by which they were surrounded preventing them from learning the fact sooner.
"If you asked me what it was," said Elmer, when he found that the others were not able to agree, "I'd be inclined to say we're not more than half a mile away from one side of the swamp, and that there's a farm lying yonder on which they keep a bull. I imagine it was his lowing we heard just then."
"Bully, say I, not meaning to be funny either," remarked Landy; "for I'd a heap sooner believe it was a bovine trying out his bazoo than a thunder-storm heading this way. It's bad enough to be in constant danger of getting ducked by falling overboard, without taking chances overhead in the bargain."
As they did not hear any repetition of the suspicious sound the scouts finally determined that Elmer had guessed right, and that there must be a stock farm not a great distance away from the border of the swamp.
The more they pushed on into what seemed the interminable recesses that surrounded them the greater became their wonder as to how they were to find those they sought. The chances seemed very much against them; but then they had an abounding faith in Elmer's sagacity; and he seemed to be determined on persevering. Doubtless, too, the others reasoned to themselves, Elmer had some clever plan laid out which would be sprung when the proper time arrived; and this confidence did much to relieve their minds as they pressed steadily on.
Lil Artha was apparently bent on making Landy pay for his previous easy time; he kept the other at work, though frequently the fat scout had to hold his push-pole under his arm while he mopped his reeking brow. Perhaps Landy panted very loud on purpose, with the object of causing his obdurate boss to relent, and give him a chance to "spell" with Mark.
Heedless of sighs and half-heard groans alike, Lil Artha just sat there and took his ease, while the slave worked and worked as though he were chained to the galley's oar.
No one ever knew whether it were actually an accident or a deep-laid scheme on the part of the weary Landy to end this period of torture. There may be some things even worse than a mere ducking—at least a stout boy like Landy Smith might think so.
At any rate, none of the scouts happened to be looking very closely at the time, and consequently they could not say one way or the other. All they knew was that without any warning Landy was seen to be dragged out of the stern of the skiff, struggle to clasp his writhing legs about the pushpole that stood at an oblique angle, caught firmly in the tenacious mud, and then releasing his hold, flop with a great splash into the dark-colored water of Sassafras Swamp!