THE slackers scattered about their business early next morning and the two boys were left alone in the camp with July, who had been ordered not to let them get out of his sight. The negro had glibly promised, but his sympathies were divided. He was still averse to being forced to go to the "waw," and to this extent he was still a confederate of the slackers, but he had developed such admiration and affection for "Cap'n Ted" that he was now almost as ready to do the boy's bidding as to respect the wishes of Buck Hardy himself.
So he was not disposed to follow his orders to the letter, and when an errand called him down to the boat-landing he left the boys alone without a word. He was hardly out of sight when Hubert became alert, looked around cautiously, and said to Ted:
"Last night I overheard one of the slackers speak of a jungle trail at the lower end of thisisland, and I think he meant a trail that leads all the way out of the swamp. Let's go and look for it—now that we've got a chance to walk off by ourselves."
Ted promptly agreed to this proposition, but said that he didn't want to run away yet. "Mr. Hardy is getting interested in the war," he explained, "and if we stay a few days longer I may be able to persuade——"
"Oh, shucks!" scoffed Hubert. "All the talking in the world will never do any good, as I've told you and told you."
"We'll see," said Ted hopefully. "In the meantime it will be a mighty good thing to find that trail and know where to make for when we are ready to start—if we do have to run away."
He caught up his gun as he spoke and they started off in a hurry, actually running the first two hundred yards in order to be out of sight before July reappeared.
They first walked about two miles down the backbone of the island, stopping to look into July's turkey-pen as they went and finding it as yet empty of feathered prisoners. They then decided tocut across to the swamp on the right and begin looking for the jungle trail. Their plan was to follow as nearly as possible the line of demarcation between the swamp proper and the higher ground, thus rounding the lower half of the island in the course of some hours and necessarily crossing the looked-for trail.
To follow the island's rim was obviously the only way to make sure of a thorough search, but they found it easier to propose than to perform. Often a détour higher up or lower down the slope was necessary to avoid bogs, marshy tracts, impregnable clumps of fan-palmettos and tangled masses of brambles. And often the way was made difficult enough by reason of the old fallen logs thrown criss-cross or piled high by wind storms, by dense blackjack thickets, and by crowding swamp undergrowth. Once they penetrated a cane-brake through which they could scarcely have forced their way but for passages made by wild animals; for the tall strong reeds, which stood as straight as arrows, were for the most part hardly three inches apart. Even along the borders of the comparatively open pine land which formed the island they were forcibly reminded of what a wild and remote wilderness the interior of the Okefinokee really was.
Several times they halted and carefully examined faint suggestions of a trail, soon pushing forward again unsatisfied. They had passed the lower end of the island and were returning up the left-hand side, fearing that their effort had been fruitless, when they at last came upon what Ted felt convinced was the object of their search.
Having followed the trail two or three hundred yards into the jungle, they retraced their steps to higher ground, after the wiser Ted had resolutely rejected Hubert's wild proposal that they push on toward freedom, unprepared as they were and at whatever risk. It was now near noon and high time to turn their faces toward camp, for they had already begun to feel sharp hunger. But they were tired after the long and rough tramp, and Hubert insisted on at least a short rest. So they lay down on the soft billowy wiregrass in a high and dry spot inclosed on three sides by tall clumps of palmettos.
Their rest was short indeed, for Hubert had hardly stretched himself out, yawning, when Ted heard a rustle in the grass on their left. Onesearching glance revealed what appeared to be a wild-cat, crouched within a few feet of them. As the startled boys sprang to their feet, the cat's hair stood on end, its eyes flashed with rage and it displayed its glistening teeth, uttering a low guttural growl. The creature had evidently been surprised close to its lair, as otherwise it would likely have made off without show of fight; plainly its back—of dark brownish gray mottled with black—was up in more than a literal sense.
Ted caught up his gun and fired, but his hurried aim caused him to miss his mark even at such close quarters. Before he could shoot again the cat leaped upon him. The shock carried him to his knees, the now useless gun slipping from his grasp. As the bounding cat came down, its fore paws struck the boy's chest and clawed through his coat, the creature snarling furiously the while and blowing its hot breath into his face. Ted beheld its fiery eyes only a few inches from his own and his hands flew to its throat.
Exerting all his strength, he held the beast off, but could not prevent the tearing of his clothes and the painful clawing of his arms and body.
Hubert now came out of his first paralysis ofsurprise and fright. Getting out his pocket-knife and opening it as quickly as possible, he caught the cat by the tail and stabbed it twice in its stomach. Then, with a maddened snarl, the creature let go its hold on Ted, wrested its neck from Ted's grasp, and leaped upon Hubert.
"Grab him by the throat!" shouted Ted, staggering to his feet and reaching for his gun.
Luckily his eye fell on the bloody pocket-knife just dropped by Hubert and he snatched it up instead of the gun, which he now realized could not be used at such close quarters without risk of killing his cousin. A moment later the wild-cat was stabbed in its side; then again and yet again.
But Hubert was still exposed to the wounded animal's strong sharp claws which did not relax their hold. So Ted seized the cat's left fore-leg and pulled with all his might. The throat of the snarling beast, thus drawn partly away from its victim, was now exposed, and into it Ted drove the knife to the hilt.
It was all over after that. The cat ceased to struggle, became limp and dropped to the ground. The battle had been won, but at no small cost. Both boys were bleeding from several deepscratches and their coats were badly torn. As all this became painfully evident, Hubert found himself unable to keep a firm grip on his lachrymal ducts.
"I don't want to cry, Ted," he said, as he sat down heavily, drawing shuddering breaths and raining tears, "but I c-can't help it."
"You just cry as much as you want to," said the older boy in a sympathetic voice, adding gratefully: "If it hadn't been for your help that thing might have scratched my eyes out. Have you noticed that it's smaller and has a longer tail than the one that jumped into our boat that morning in the swamp?" he continued. "That one must have been a lynx and this is just an ordinarywild-cat."
Ted now proceeded to cut a long, stout, green stick. He then fished some twine out of his pocket and tied the deadwild-cat'sfeet together. Thrusting the stick between its legs, he took one end of it and Hubert the other. Chatting and even laughing cheerfully, in spite of the pain of their bleeding scratches, they bore their dearly bought prize between them along the backbone of Deserter's Island.
As they approached the camp they saw that several slackers were still sitting over their noon meal. July was the first to see the boys and their burden. A few leaps, and he was beside them; a few words, and he knew the outline of their story.
"Look yuh, Cap'n Ted," he cried, laughing and gesticulating, "you mean to say you an' Hubut kill dat wile-cat wid des yo' pocket-knife!"
"That's what we did," declared Hubert, proudly.
"Oh, go 'way!" cried July, gleefully. "Well, well, well, if dat don't beat all!"
Hardly less enthusiastic were the slackers, who expressed admiration of the youngsters' pluck and readiness of resource in no mild terms.
"That's the sort of grit I like to see, boys," said Buck Hardy, showing great pleasure. "Never mind; I'll fix you up," he added, seeing both boys wince on being patted on the shoulder.
He made them strip and washed their wounds, while Al Peters hunted up a box of healing salve made from bear's marrow, and Bud Jones, producing needle and thread, neatly darned their torn coats. Even Sweet Jackson spoke kindly to the boys on hearing the story later. Everybodyseemed determined to make heroes of them and their story, in response to eager questions, was told and told again. As long as he talked about the wild-cat adventure and hunting in general, omitting any mention of the war, Ted noted that he secured universal, willing and pleased attention. If these young men so highly valued pluck and victory in a mere struggle with a wild animal, he thought, why could they not thrill in contemplation of the true glory of shedding one's blood for one's country in a war against the foes of the world!
As the boys were eating their dinner, after the dressing of their wounds, Ted inquired as to the value of wild-cat fur and was told that it was worth "quite a little." Then, after a few whispered words with Hubert, he rose and, with quite a grand manner, said:
"Mr. Hardy, my cousin and I wish to present this pelt to you as a small token of our appreciation of your kindness to us."
Following Ted's lead, Buck also was formal in accepting, walking over awkwardly and shaking hands, as he said: "This sure is nice of you, boys; I'll think more of that skin than any I ever had."
AS the three slackers, Hardy, Peters and Jones, were getting ready to leave camp and go about their unfinished business of the day, Ted wondered how he could turn his new popularity to account. With the help of the greater friendliness the morning's adventure had brought him, could he not induce the slackers to listen to another appeal as they sat around the fire that night? With his mind full of thoughts of what he hoped to be allowed to say, the boy little dreamed that he was to win even greater renown as a hunter that very afternoon.
His discovery of a bee tree was what led to the second adventure. While he and Hubert were bringing in the dead wild-cat they stopped for a short rest under a tall pine about three quarters of a mile from the camp. As they sat there, Ted looked up and noted a black, quivering line against the bright sky that seemed to stream out from the trunk of the tree just above the lowest branchand about fifty feet from the ground. His curiosity aroused, the boy rose to get a better look, and then made certain that the black, quivering line was composed of flying insects.
"Hubert, look!" he cried. "Those must be bees and this must be a bee tree."
Ted now suddenly recalled this incident, as the slackers were moving away, and, rising, he called out:
"Oh, Mr. Hardy! I ought to tell you. I think I've found a bee tree."
The three slackers turned, all attention, and Ted described what he had seen. A bee tree it certainly was, they all declared; a "mighty good find, too," for everybody would be "glad of a bait of honey."
"Come and show it to us right away," proposed Buck Hardy. "We can help July cut the tree down before we go to the traps, then leave him to gather and bring in the honey. Do you feel like walking there and back, son?"
Ted cheerfully consented, declaring that he was not tired and that his wounds were no longer very painful. So the whole party, except Hubert who was now asleep by the fire, started off toward thebee tree, carrying axes and even buckets, in confident expectation of a satisfactory yield of honey.
The distance was not great and Ted soon located the tree, a tall pine near an inwinding arm of the swamp. But after he had seen the tree felled and cut into here and there in the search for the wild hive, he began to feel tired and, turning about quietly, started back toward camp. He had not gone far when an outcry indicated that honey had been found, but he did not turn back, telling himself that he could enjoy his share later. He soon lay down beside Hubert and fell into a deep sleep.
He was awakened some two hours later by movements of July, who reported the yield of honey, very small and expressed the conviction that there were further stores somewhere in the same tree. Ted, who was now rested and felt but little annoyed by his wounds, proposed that they go back to the tree and look for more honey. July agreed and the awakened Hubert was invited to accompany them, but declined.
So Ted, carrying a repeating rifle belonging to the camp, and July, carrying an axe and two tin buckets, started off, followed by two dogs. Thefelled tree lay across a wiregrass-covered spaceenclosedon three sides by clumps of palmettos and a blackjack thicket. Only a few bees still lingered over the ruins of their hive and there was little danger of being stung, but July took the precaution of setting fire to a section of a discarded undershirt with a view to putting them to rout by means of the thick, stifling smoke.
Then he cut into the tree at several points and after a half hour of vain effort declared that it was "no use wastin' any more elbow-grease," but Ted urged him to further endeavor. The negro obligingly swung his axe again and very soon cut into a second hollow containing honey, no doubt connected by a narrow passage with the cavity opened earlier in the afternoon. The last blow of the axe penetrated the honey itself, breaking several fine layers of comb and sending the liquid forth in a slow thick stream.
While July filled his buckets, Ted took a large piece of the honey-comb and sat down on a neighboring log to enjoy the feast.
"Hello! what's up?" the boy cried suddenly, noting that both dogs were now snuffing excitedly and that the hair on their backs stood erect.
As if in answer a large black bear appeared, moving clumsily out of the blackjack thicket and making straight for the bee tree, toward which it had no doubt been attracted by the scent of the much beloved honey. Seeing the negro, the boy, and the now snarling dogs, the surprised animal halted, reared on its hind legs and snorted.
"Where dat rifle?" cried July, as both he and Ted started to their feet and retreated a few steps.
When they reached the bee tree the rifle had been laid aside, Ted thoughtlessly following the example of the negro who put by all that he carried in order to be free to swing his axe. Now they saw in alarm that the rifle lay within a few feet of the bear and could not be reached. At this discovery panic seized them and they raced to the other end of the open space, a distance of some fifty yards the negro even forgetting to snatch up his axe.
There they knew they were safe enough for the present, for the wildly barking dogs were between them and the bear, which showed no desire to advance upon anything but the bee tree, toward which, after getting down upon its all-fours, itglanced hungrily, seemingly wondering whether its further progress thither would be opposed.
Encouraged by shouts from Ted and July, the two dogs grew bolder. They advanced so close that the bear abandoned the immediate prospect of a feast and showed fight, growling fiercely and chasing its enemies backward. But the dogs ever returned to the attack, urged by the repeated "Sick 'im!" of the negro and the boy, who hoped that the running fight, if kept up, would bring the rifle safely within their reach.
After more than twenty minutes this opportunity was still awaited, for not much ground was covered in the conflict. The dogs repeatedly raced forward as if bent on a furious attack, but skipped away as the enraged animal plunged at them. Having put them to flight, the bear would halt, and so the coveted weapon remained within the danger zone.
But at last, harried continually, the bear began to fag and showed a desire to seek shelter. Having gradually neared the trunk of a pine in the course of its shiftings of position, it was seen to look up as if into a haven of refuge. Another rush of the dogs, encouraged by still louder shouting, seemed to decide the issue. As if weary of the struggle, the heavy creature rose on its hind legs, embraced the trunk of the pine, and began to climb, going rapidly upward without rest until it found itself among the spreading branches more than sixty feet from the ground.
Then, with shouts of satisfaction, Ted and July ran forward, the former reaching the rifle first because the latter halted a moment to recover his axe.
"Better gim me dat rifle," said July urgently as he joined the boy.
"Oh, no," objected Ted; "Iwant to shoot this bear."
July yielded only because it was "Cap'n Ted"; any other mere boy could have retained the weapon only after listening to long and loud protest. The two circled the pine until they found the point whence the dark bulk of the bear could be seen most plainly outlined amid the clustering boughs of the tree's top.
Ted fired once, twice—six times—and the bear did not move.
"He must have a bullet-proof hide," the boypanted, loath to admit that he had missed so often.
"Better gim me dat rifle, Cap'n Ted. Won't do to waste so much 'munition."
"Well, didn't the men shoot thirteen times before they brought down that bear the other night?"
"I's sho 'fraid you can't hit 'im."
"Well, I can keep on trying," the now irritated boy said sharply. "I'mthe hunter—not you. You're thecook."
This silenced July, except for continuing expressions of eagerness to see the finish. The persistent boy kept firing and, at last, at the eleventh shot, the big game was seen to sway to one side, as if loosening its grip on the branches. Then the heavy body came crashing down.
"I got him! I got him!" cried Ted, wildly excited.
July fingered the prize, roughly estimating its length and weight, but Ted was chiefly interested in the five bullet holes in the creature's side, proving that his aim was much better than at first appeared.
After they had returned to camp and Huberthad listened appreciatively to the great news, Ted's elation suddenly gave place to misgiving and regret. The boy fell silent and looked troubled, as he recalled that the bear was not needed for food and that the great bulk of its flesh would be wasted. But when the slackers trooped into the fire-lit circle after nightfall the boy sprang to his feet and proudly announced:
"Mr. Hardy, I've got a bear skin for you, if you want it."
The slackers crowded round and listened in astonishment, most of them commending and praising the boy in the most generous terms. But, as they sat smoking round the fire after supper, Sweet Jackson suddenly began to laugh, sarcastically remarking:
"Hesays we mustn't waste a ounce o' meat, but soon's he gets a chance he shoots a bear, and there's nobody to eat it. Very fine to talk! I've seen preachers that didn't live up to ther preachin' before to-day."
Buck Hardy turned upon the scoffer with a look of disgust and scorn, but Ted was the first to speak.
"You've got me there, Mr. Jackson," hefrankly confessed. "I've been sorry ever since I did it. I was so excited I didn't take time to think."
"How could he help it—with the blood of a man in him?" demanded Buck.
"I won't do it again," Ted solemnly declared.
"You won't get a chance," said Jackson, his tone still sneering. "That was a chance in a thousand."
Ted then spoke of the meatless and wheatless days urgently recommended in the President's proclamation of January 18, in order that we might spare and ship the food sorely needed by our fighting allies in Europe. His listeners looked their astonishment as the boy outlined the Food Administration's program: no wheat on Mondays and Wednesdays and at one meal on the other days of the week; no meat of any kind on Tuesday, no fresh pork or bacon on Saturday; and rigid economy in the use of sugar at all times.
"For goodness' sake," cried Bud Jones, "does he want us to starve so them people in Europe can have plenty?"
"You know better than that," Buck quietly retorted.
"Of course not," said Ted. "There's plenty to eat without wheat bread and biscuits. What's the matter with corn bread and rye bread and potatoes and rice and oat-meal porridge?"
"But how can anybody get along without meat?" asked Al Peters.
"We don't need it every meal or even every day," said Ted. "We justthinkwe do. What's the matter with fish and eggs and oysters and a whole lot of things to take the place of meat?"
"But everybody can't get all that," objected Bud Jones. "The President sure has put us on short commons."
"He wants us all to eat plenty of good food, and we can do it and still save wheat and meat for our allies if we are not wasteful," insisted Ted. "But we ought to be willing even to go on 'short commons' in order to win this war. What we ship to 'them people in Europe,' as you call our allies, is not thrown away. It goes to feed the men who are fighting our battle as well as their own. We are all in the same boat. And they are helping us in other ways. We haven't got enough ships to carry our soldiers across, but England and France will furnish what we lack.I read Secretary Baker's report to the Senate—it was ten columns, but I read it through—and he said we'd have half a million soldiers in France early this year and that another million would go over by next January. Some people say it can't be done because we haven't got the ships, but our allies will give us the ships. Then oughtn't we to save and even deny ourselves in order to send them wheat and meat? Why, it's just as plain! We must work together—Americans, English, French and the rest—to win this war. And here in this country every man must do his part. We'vegotto win this war—or be the Kaiser's cattle. Do you want to cut wood and tote water for the Germans for the rest of your days?"
Ted looked around the fire-lit circle. Nobody answered. Again the situation had become embarrassing. Again Sweet Jackson rose, with a muttered oath, and went off to bed. Again other uneasy slackers feigned drowsiness, rose yawning, and promptly followed.
"Look at 'em," whispered Hubert. "I told you so. You put up a mighty good talk, but it won't do any good."
But Ted smiled hopefully, for again Buck Hardy kept his seat. Once more the big slacker kept the boy by the fire an hour longer, asking many questions and listening soberly while he answered as best he could.
TED'S greatest wild-animal adventure was so unexpected and astonishing that it became the subject of wondering comment in the camp for days. Strange to say, it came within less than twenty-four hours of the bagging of the bear, after which achievement Buck Hardy, with but little opposition, gave the boys the freedom of Deserters' Island.
"From now on," he said at supper, "I want the boys to be free to go where they please on this island. I won't have a boy as smart and lucky with a gun as Ted cooped up in this camp. Let the boys hunt this island. No use hemmin' 'em in too close anyhow. They can't get away, with some of us takin' the boats every day. They'll think twice before they wade off in the swamp, not knowin' which way to go."
So after breakfast next morning Ted and Hubert started off openly, their little guns over their shoulders and a camp dog, which they had pettedand become fond of, following gladly at their heels. They first walked down to the lower end of the island and located the jungle trail a second time. Then they slowly hunted up the left hand side to a point nearly opposite and less than a mile and a half from the camp. During all this time they saw practically nothing to shoot, and at last Ted complained that luck had deserted him. Hubert, always the first to be discouraged, proposed that they give up the hunt and "cut across" the island toward camp.
Still tramping on, loath to surrender, Ted suddenly tripped and fell over a log, striking the side of his head against a sharp snag. He was at first slightly stunned and his wound, though but little more than a scratch, bled freely. What was more serious, he sprained his ankle as he fell and found it impossible to walk without unbearable pain. After trying repeatedly, he became quite faint and was forced to lie down.
"Hubert, you'd better go on to camp," he said breathlessly, "and, if I don't turn up by dinner time, tell 'em what's the matter. Mr. Hardy will know what to do—if this pain keeps me from walking all day."
Ted raised himself on his arm, pointing, anxious to make sure that Hubert took the right course, and then, as his alarmed cousin started off at a trot, he fell back exhausted, closing his eyes. All was now quiet except for the sighing of the breeze in the high pine tops and the panting of the dog squatting near him. As long as he did not move the pain in his ankle was eased, and, as the bleeding scratch on the side of his head troubled him but little, he grew drowsy and in no great while fell asleep.
Ted was awakened some time later more by a warning sense of danger than by certain slightly disturbing sounds. On opening his eyes, he found the dog standing close to him, the hair on its back erect and its tail between its legs—both signs of fear. The boy's faithful guardian, with low growling that was almost a whine, gazed steadily into the faintly rustling foliage of a water-oak some thirty feet away. The tree stood on the edge of the low, wet area, its boughs interlacing with the branches of other trees behind it, these connecting in turn with myriads of others and thus forming a leafy bridge for miles through the dense, mysterious, softly whispering swamp.
While he slept something had come stealthily over this bridge—something keen of scent, with eyes of hate and knife-edged claws, hungry for blood—and now a long lank animal of a tawny hue, its twitching tail uplifted and its small flat head lowered, lay along a limb of the water-oak watching with green, glaring, cruel eyes as he stirred.
At first Ted saw nothing to alarm him, but soon he caught sight of a tail like that of an enormous cat beating back and forth among the leaves in a manner startlingly suggestive of both restlessness and rage. He remembered to have heard one of the slackers say that the tail of a panther twitched in that nervous way when the beast was crouching for a spring. He remembered also the agreement of all the slackers engaged in the conversation that no killing of a panther in the Okefinokee had been reported for years.
"But that must be one," thought Ted, "and it smelt my blood and is after me."
Forgetting his sprained ankle, the boy clutched his gun and started up, but staggered and dropped to his knees in an agony of pain. On seeing hismaster stir, the dog showed more spirit, putting on a bolder front and barking wildly.
This seemed to put an end to the suspense. Almost at once the great cat, snarling fiercely, tore through the leafage surrounding her and descended toward her intended prey, striking the earth within a few feet of the dog.
Ted managed to raise his gun and take aim, but before he pulled the trigger the panther had leaped again and engaged the dog at close quarters. To shoot then was to endanger friend as well as foe, and the boy hesitated. Fearing that mere buck-shot would not serve anyhow and that the faithful dog was his only protection, Ted painfully crawled further away, looking back over his shoulder to watch the fierce struggle between the two beasts, with never a moment's let-up in such harsh growling and snarling as he had never heard in all his life.
The contending creatures, fast in each other's grip, rapidly drew nearer, tearing up grass and brush as they came. Apparently the panther's object was to shake off the dog and reach the boy, her real intended prey, and it looked as if she would succeed, for she was larger as well as muchstronger than the battling friend of Ted who braved her cruel claws in his defense.
The contending creatures, fast in each other's grip, rapidly drew nearer
In great concern for the dog as well as for himself, the boy again started to his feet, but again the pain was more than he could bear. He tottered, fell, and this time a black, quivering sea seemed to engulf all his senses. When consciousness returned, which was almost at once, the horrid din bombarded his ears as before, and, as he opened his eyes, the panther accomplished a resistless rush in his direction, arriving within perhaps five feet of him together with the heroic dog, which still refused to be shaken off.
Ted thought his days were numbered, yet the very thought seemed to steady his nerves and clear his head. Rising to his knees, he lifted his gun and watched his chance. The fiercely struggling and snarling beasts came nearer still, now the panther and now the dog turning a back to the boy.
Suddenly, with a coolness that he afterward wondered at, Ted leaned forward and, seizing the opportunity as it came, put the very muzzle of his gun against the neck of his enemy and pulled the trigger.
As the report reverberated through the woods, the panther leaped high in the air, wresting herself away at last from the grip of the dog's strong teeth. It looked to Ted as if she would descend directly upon him, and, as he shrank away, giving himself up for lost, his senses failed him once more and oblivion followed.
When he revived and looked around the panther lay still on one side of him and the dog, cruelly wounded, struggled feebly with a low whining on the other. A large section of the mighty cat's neck had been literally torn out by the discharge of the gun at close quarters and there could be no question that life was extinct. Assured of this, and fearing that the dog could not survive, Ted put an arm around his faithful savior's neck and wept.
It was thus that the boy and the dog were found when, after the welcome sounds of the rescuing party's nearing halloo, Buck Hardy rushed upon the scene, followed by Al Peters, Bud Jones, Hubert and July.
"Are you all right, kid?" asked Buck, gathering Ted up tenderly.
"I'mall right, but the dog—poor, faithfulSpot! Can't you do something for him, Mr. Hardy?"
A brush stretcher was hastily constructed and Ted was placed upon it, but he refused to be borne to the camp by the four men until the wounded dog had been laid at his side.
"We'd better hunt around this island tomorrow," remarked Al Peters, as the four men labored across the island with their burden. "That boy bags more game right here than we do on our long trips."
It pleased Ted greatly to overhear this, but his satisfaction was not complete until, after a careful examination of the cruelly clawed dog at camp, he was assured that his devoted friend would recover. His own slight head wound and sprained ankle did not trouble him. After each had received the most expert attention the sympathetic and admiring camp of slackers was capable of, it was merely a matter of keeping still temporarily in order to save himself from pain.
"What's a little scratch on the head and a sprained ankle," he asked of the solicitous men about the camp fire that night, "compared with what our soldiers have to stand—liquid fire andpoison gas bombs in the trenches and submarine torpedoes at sea?"
"I don't reckon anybody in this war has been up against anything worse than you was to-day," remarked Buck Hardy, glancing at the panther skin which had been brought in and hung up in the camp where the lame boy could see it.
"Oh, yes, they have," insisted Ted; "but they were not scared the way I was. Why, our soldiers on theTuscaniastood and sang 'The Star-Spangled Banner' while the ship was sinking and they were waiting their turn to get off in the boats. Many of them went to their death like the greatest heroes."
Ted then told what he had read about the sinking of this transport some two weeks before he left his uncle's home in North Carolina to come down to the neighborhood of the Okefinokee. The slackers had not heard of it and all listened with great interest.
"Even women—lots of them—have been up against much worse in this war than I was to-day," the boy continued. "Think of Miss Edith Cavell, that lovely English nurse the Germans shot in Belgium."
As Ted eloquently told the story of the execution of this innocent and devoted woman, practically all the slackers gave expression to lively indignation.
"I wouldn't 'a believed a bunch o' devils would 'a done such a thing, andto a ladyat that!" one voice called out.
"What do the Huns care about a lady or anything in the world?" cried Ted. "They treat women as roughly as they treat men. They've carried off thousands of Belgian and French women and made them slaves. They've actually made women work in front of their lines under the fire of French guns. They've herded up women and children in Belgian and French towns and shot them down. They've carried off hundreds of thousands of men and women from conquered countries and made them slave night and day in Germany. The very songs they sing—I've seen translations of some of them—tell proudly of cruel, barbarous outrages and boast that neither women nor children are spared.
"Why, I've seen a list of the atrocities committed by the Germans in this war that would make your blood boil, that would make you sick,"the boy continued. "And it's the truth—all taken from what they call 'verified official reports,' with as many as ten witnesses for everything. You see, the Germans believed they were going to conquer the world, and so many of them didn't carewhatthey did. They massacred prisoners in cold blood at Ypres and other places. They loot, burn and often kill as they go. They've nailed people up alive against doors. They've cut off hands and feet and left the poor creatures alive. They've filled the streets with dead—not only fighting soldiers but old men, women and children. They've burned people up in their houses. They've cut even women to pieces. The way they get all the money in a captured town is to threaten to kill everybody, and to prove that they are going to do it they kill a few hundred to begin with. They drive the helpless people like cattle—drive them out and leave them to starve. They seem to delight in burning or knocking down churches with their cannon. They've stuck bayonets in women and boys and girls and pitched them into the fire of burning houses. The cavalry has tied men and women to their stirrups and galloped around with them dragging. They throw the dead intosprings and wells. I can't begin to tell you of their awful doings. They have even stuck their bayonets through little children and held them up as they walked through the streets."
After twisting nervously in his seat and breathing hard as he listened, Buck Hardy now started to his feet with a cry of rage. And then—- as July described the exhibition later—he "gritted his teeth and shook his fist and cussed awful." The negro did not exaggerate. Buck Hardy's rage was as vocal as it was intense. He exhausted all the most picturesque and crushing profanity he could think of, concluding: "I wish to God I could get my hands on one o' them devils!"
It was on the tip of Ted's tongue to say: "Well, then, why don't you go where you can get a chance to do it?" But a warning nudge from Hubert reminded him to be discreet in the case of their best friend in the camp. He also remembered July's advice not to push the big slacker too hard. And perhaps he didn't need any pushing now; for clearly he was awakened. So Ted merely watched Buck's signs of incandescent anger with great joy and said nothing.
But Buck himself must have seen the thought in the boy's glowing eyes. He must have sensed something in the general atmosphere of the fire-lit circle tending to convey to him the startling warning that he had put himself to the test by his own outburst. At all events he suddenly shut his lips, turned on his heel, and strode off into the dark woods.
"The Huns are beastly," Ted then remarked to nobody in particular, "but after fifty years of training they are fine soldiers and it's no picnic to down them. That's why our country needs every able-bodied young man to go on the job."
An embarrassing moment followed. Ted looked around at the sober-faced slackers and their eyes fell before him. They had been thrilled, horrified, stirred with anger and feelings of outrage; but they were not ready to face the question they feared the persistent and plucky boy would put to them. They shifted their positions uneasily, began to get on their feet, and then in twos and threes went hurriedly off to bed, anxious to escape another direct appeal.
"You put up a great talk and you sort of got hold of some of them this time," whispered Hubert; "but you see—as I've told you before—that it won't do any good."
"Maybe it will—after a while," said Ted, his eyes still glowing.
Buck Hardy now reappeared and called back two of the retreating slackers. With their help, and without a word, he lifted Ted and carried him up the ladder to his bed in the sleeping-loft.
TED heard the slackers leave the sleeping-loft early the next morning, but he did not stir. He knew that he ought to keep quiet, and, after reluctantly resigning himself to the necessity, he turned slightly on his bed of Spanish moss and fell asleep again. When he awoke he was alone in the loft. A few minutes later July appeared with his breakfast, telling him that all the slackers had "done gone" and that Hubert was "frolicin' wid Billy."
"Mr. Buck Hardy say you mus' stay in dat bed all day," the negro informed him, adding: "Mr. Hardy sho is hurted in his mind. He don't say a word hardly. When I woke up late in de night las' night I seen him standin' out dere by de fire thinkin'. I reckon he studyin' 'bout dat waw an' all you tole him."
Buck's reported disturbance of mind was Ted's only comfort during the long, tiresome day, for he felt confident that he knew the cause and washopeful of the issue. Hubert, Billy and July visited him several times during the day, and at dinner time Buck Hardy, Al Peters and Bud Jones all spent a few minutes at his bedside, doing their best to cheer him up; but the boy spent some lonely hours and the consciousness of his and Hubert's captivity oppressed him as at no time during the previous days of activity and diversion. What was to be the end of it? Did their disappearance cause alarm at Judge Ridgway's farm? Had his uncle returned from Washington, and, if so, what did he think, and what would he do?
It was very hard to lie quiet and just think, think, think. But the next day Ted was glad he had done so, for he found that the complete rest, aided perhaps by the salve made of bear's marrow, had had a wonderfully healing effect. He could stand on his injured foot without pain and was able to walk with a limp. The two succeeding days, spent very quietly about the camp, were much less hard to endure, and on the fourth day he was almost himself again.
Meanwhile there had been talk with the slackers at meal times and about the camp fire at night, but the boy found little opportunity tospeak of the war. If he introduced the subject the conversation was promptly diverted into other channels. Ted noticed with discouragement that even Buck Hardy seemed to wish to hear no more. And so, fearing that after all he would be able to accomplish nothing, the boy found his thoughts turning toward plans of escape from captivity as soon as he felt assured of his ability to stand the strain of hard travel.
On the fourth morning both boys gladly accepted an invitation from Buck to make a trip with him in his boat. The big slacker announced at breakfast that he expected to visit Honey Island and, as their last harvest of honey was now exhausted, he would keep an eye open for a bee tree. The island to which they were going had received its name, it appeared, in consequence of several discoveries of bee trees there.
July was ordered to prepare a lunch and the three were soon ready to start. Sweet Jackson observed their preparations narrowly and before they got off he called two young men known as Zack James and Jim Carter, aside and urged them to accompany or follow the party.
"I'm a-scared Buck aims to turn them boysloose," he said. "That biggity little chap worries him a-carryin' on and exhortin' about the war the way he does—I kin see it—and I wouldn't be surprised if he wants to git shed o' them boys. I'd like to git shed of 'em myself, but it won't do—it ain't safe. You fellows better go 'long to Honey Island and keep yer eye on them boys."
The precaution was one in which they were equally interested, and the two young men readily agreed to go. As he was poling his bateau off from the shore, Buck was surprised to see them coming down the path, each with a gun in one hand and a bucket in the other.
"We aimed to go over that way this mornin', too," Zack James called out. "Mebby we'd better keep together, Buck, till you find a bee tree, so we kin holp you cut it down and gether the honey."
"All right," said Buck, after a keen, appraising look at the two men.
It was soon evident to all, however, that the "cock of the walk" was displeased. During the long hard pull of more than two and a half hours over the boat-road winding through flooded swamp and forest he did not once speak to Jamesor Carter, although the distance between the boats was rarely greater than a hundred yards and often not more than a few feet. But he spoke now and then to the boys, pointing out objects likely to interest them, usually at moments when their trail-followers were out of earshot.
"Honey Island ain't as big as ours," he told them once, casually adding: "On t'other side from where we'll land there's a good trail that leads out of the swamp. It's wet and boggy in places, but you don't need a boat. I reckon I could git out of the swamp in half a day by that trail."
Ted wondered how long it would take him and Hubert to reach the outer world by the same path. They could not attempt it to-day, of course, even if they found opportunity, because his injured ankle was not yet in shape to stand hard travel, and he supposed that this probably accounted for Buck's willingness to mention its existence. He decided that it would be wise to locate it, if possible, as part of the preparation for future attempted escape.
"Hubert," called out Zack James when the island was reached, "pick up that piece o' ropein yer boat and fetch it along; we'll need it, mebby."
The boats had run aground several yards from dry land, and all hands were now wading out, Hubert being the last to step into the water, carrying the desired coil of rope.
"I believe I kin go right to one," said Buck, as soon as they had struggled through the dense "hammock" and gained the higher level of the island. "When I was huntin' h-yer week before last I saw lots and cords of bees, and I watched which way they was flyin'. If I'd 'a had time, I could 'a spotted one right then."
No one was surprised, therefore, when little more than an hour later a bee tree was found. Pausing under a tall pine, the big slacker turned to his followers and pointed to an almost continuous stream of bees, a dark line against the bright sky, issuing from an unseen hole in the trunk of the tree a few inches below the lowest branch, but more than fifty feet from the ground.
It was now midday, and before attacking the tree, the party sat down on the wiregrass and ate the lunch which July had prepared. Then James and Carter rose and vigorously plied their axeson opposite sides of the tree. Scarcely had the chips begun to fly when Buck turned to Ted and said:
"If you boys want to, you kin take your guns and run around for a little hunt while we're cuttin' the tree and getherin' the honey."
"I've seen one bee tree cut already, and I believe I would rather walk around," said Ted.
He turned to go as he spoke and promptly disappeared beyond a blackjack thicket, followed closely by Hubert, who still carried the coil of rope over his arm.
"This looks like as good a chance to get away as we may ever have," said Ted as soon as they were out of earshot.
"Yes, if we can hurry up and find that half-day trail," Hubert eagerly agreed. "Do you think your ankle can stand a rush?"
"No—that's the trouble," answered Ted. "Besides it would be much better to have July with us, and I believe he'll go when the time comes. Let's find the trail, though, so that we won't have to lose any time if we get off by boat and make for this island."
The watchful James had not failed to note thedeparture of the boys and he at once began to show signs of fatigue, drawing his breath very hard, putting in his strokes more slowly, and finally pausing altogether, with an exclamation indicating that his exhaustion was complete.
"Tired out a'ready?" asked Buck contemptuously; and, taking the axe, which was willingly resigned to him, he began to swing it with great vigor.
This was precisely what James desired, and he lost no time in quietly withdrawing to a point whence he darted into the bushes on the track of the boys. Half an hour later, as Ted and Hubert hurried forward, leaping over logs and forcing their way through crowding underbrush, the former happened to look in the direction whence they had come and distinctly saw a man leap behind a tree.
"It's no use, Hubert," he said, pausing. "We can't even find the trail this trip. Zack James is following us; I saw him jump behind a tree."
"Then Jim Carter is with him, and they'll stop us before we go far," declared Hubert.
"Maybe it's just as well," said Ted philosophically. "We know about where the trail is, andI was running great risk of spraining my ankle again."
They sat down, panting on a log, agreeing to go forward more slowly a half mile further, and then return to the bee tree, just as if their trip had been a hunt and nothing more.
They then rose and moved on, picking their way more cautiously. A few minutes later Ted halted and signed to Hubert to be quiet, as a crow suddenly cawed and flew out of a tree two or three hundred yards in their front.
"That crow saw something, I'll bet," he whispered, and when what appeared to be fresh bear tracks were discovered, he added triumphantly: "I told you so."
The tracks soon led them into what was doubtless the path of an aforetime tornado, the ground being crowded with uprooted trees, which had been thrown across each other at every angle and lay "heaped in confusion dire." Here the trail was lost, but the boys still cautiously advanced.
At the end of another hundred yards, standing on an elevated log and looking forward, Ted became greatly excited at the discovery, not twenty feet away, of a small open space covered with adeep drift of pine needles, in the center of which were two round depressions or beds, some fifteen inches deep and not less than four feet in diameter. In one of these were two young bears, apparently asleep while their mother was away feeding.
Signing to Hubert to be very quiet but to come quickly, Ted waited until his cousin stood beside him on the log and had seen what neither was likely to have the opportunity of seeing again. For, indeed, as the slackers afterward declared, it was a "find" as remarkable as unexpected.
"Don't shoot 'em," whispered Hubert. "Let's catch one of 'em alive and take it to Billy. We can tie it with this piece of rope."
"We can try," assented Ted, adding: "I wouldn't shoot the cute little things."
Cautiously they stole down the log and stepped upon the soft carpet of pine needles. A twig snapped under Hubert's foot, whereupon one of the little bears lifted its head and looked around. Instantly cub number one got upon its feet with a snort and bolted into the bushes, but before number two had followed Ted was upon him.
Letting his gun fall, the boy plunged forward, alighting astride of the cub's back and graspingits ears with his hands. Uttering a peculiar sound, partaking both of an angry snarl and a terrified whimper, the vigorous little beast tried to jump; but Ted successfully held it down, although the frantic creature tore up the bed of pine needles with its powerful claws and struggled furiously to get at its captor.
Hubert made a slip-knot, as he was directed, and passed the rope around the animal's neck. Then Ted rose, letting the cub go as he seized firm hold of the other end of the rope.
"We'd better look out for the old one now," he said warningly.
Released, the little bear ran away with great speed, dragging the boy after it along a path which fortunately led out into the more open pine woods and in the direction of the bee tree. Snatching up Ted's gun, Hubert followed, looking about apprehensively for "the old one."
As long as the cub ran in the right direction, no effort was made to check it; but before a great while it turned off abruptly to the right, and then Ted had to exert all his strength to drag it after him. Perhaps even his best efforts would have been unavailing, had not Hubert, who coveredtheir retreat, carrying both guns, frightened the little bear from behind with a frequent shove of his foot.
Within a few minutes Buck Hardy became aware of the absence of Zack James and suspected its cause, but went on cutting into the bee tree without a word. When James reappeared three-quarters of an hour later his trivial excuses were accepted without comment. By this time the pine had been felled, the hollow was located, and now, protected from the angry bees by the smoke from burning rags, the three men proceeded to cut into the tree and secure the stores of honey, a job that was about complete when Ted and Hubert appeared.
James had followed the boys far enough to become convinced that they were not running away and were really in pursuit of game; but his surprise was as great as that of the other men when the two young hunters came noisily into view, dragging the little bear after them.
"Well, this beats it all!" exclaimed Buck Hardy, dropping a bucket of honey and going to meet them.
As the boys hastily told their story in outline,Zack James walked up, smiling, and congratulated them.
"I saw you following us," Ted said to him, with a keen glance. "If you had stayed, you could have helped us bring in the cub."
"Who, me? I was jus' lookin' out for another bee tree," was the man's answer, but he dropped his eyes before Buck's haughty stare. "Let's hurry to the boats before the old one comes," urged Ted. "It would be a pity to have to kill the mother after taking the baby—and we don't need the meat."
"But some of us would like to have another bear skin," remarked Jim Carter.
"All right, kid," said Buck, taking no notice of Carter's suggestion. "We're through, and we'll go."
And go they did, carrying the honey and forcing the captive cub along as fast as they could. James and Carter followed reluctantly, looking back and listening as they came; but at the landing place Buck stood aside and waited for them to get afloat first and take the lead on the return trip. Still more reluctantly they did this, not wishing a quarrel with the "cock of the walk."
The two disappointed men were out of sight around a bend of the boat-road, and Buck and the boys were following with their prize when they heard a crash in the brush on shore and saw a full-grown bear come rapidly along the path, its nose seemingly bent to the scent. Buck started and gripped his gun, the hunter's instinct strongly astir within him.
"Oh, please don't shoot," whispered Ted. "These bears are not dangerous unless attacked; they don't have to be killed on sight like panthers. It would be such a waste."
"All right, kid; it's your bear," assented Buck, and sent the boat gliding round the bend before it was seen by the heavy creature hurrying on their trail.
GREAT was the delight of Billy, and outspoken the admiration and surprise of all, when Ted and Hubert dragged their prize into the camp on Deserters' Island. Everybody seemed pleased except Sweet Jackson. While the latest slackers to arrive were questioning and complimenting Ted around the camp fire after supper, Jackson began to laugh in a sneering sort of way and presently remarked to nobody in particular:
"Hesays if we waste a ounce o' meat we won't be able to whip them Germans. Then he kills a bear when we don't need the meat and right on top o' that he ketches a young cub. Very fine to talk! I've seen preachers that didn't live up to ther preachin' before to-day."
Ted broke the silence that followed.
"I confessed I was wrong the other time," he said, "but I thought this was different. We could have shot the mother, but we didn't. As for thecub, even if we can't tame it it can be kept until it is needed for food. Do you think it can be tamed, Mr. Hardy?"
"Don't worry, kid; you're all right, whether you can tame it or not," said Buck, after a steady look at Sweet Jackson that produced a noticeably sobering effect. "I saw a bear cub chained to a pole near a shanty on Billy's Island once, but it looked mighty wild and thin and down-in-the-mouth. I don't reckon they can be tamed without the help of one o' them circus men who knows how. This one's pretty apt to die—if it don't get away."
Ted looked very serious and fell silent. He lingered about the fire only until he had asked for news about the war from one "Mitch" Jenkins, a young man who had fled to the Okefinokee to escape the new draft, joining the other slackers at their camp only that afternoon. Finding that the newcomer had no news to impart of any importance, Ted soon confessed that he was tired and went off with Hubert to bed, there to lie awake a long while.
As soon as he was assured by their heavy breathing and snoring that the slackers were allasleep, the boy crept to the door in the floor, quietly put down the ladder and descended. Fifteen minutes later he was back in his bed. In the morning there was quite a commotion when it was discovered that the cub had escaped, although supposedly it was altogether secure. Nobody noticed that Ted did not look surprised. The boy kept his secret, regretting his act only at moments in the presence of the hapless Billy's grief.
Ted consoled the quickly forgetful half-wit with the present of a silver quarter, and soon gave all his thought to more important matters. For after breakfast July called him aside and said with a very serious face:
"Come go wid me to de turkey pen; I got sump'n to tell you."
"I haven't seen Mr. Hardy this morning," remarked Ted, as he walked away from the camp with the negro.
"Dat's what I got to tell you. He on his way out de swamp. Dat new man, Mr. Jinkins, brung de news dat Mr. Hardy's ma sick, an' bright an' early dis mawnin' he started out. An' what's mose as bad, Mr. Peters an' Mr. Jones gone wid'im to fetch in some supplies. Dem three treats me de bes' of all of 'em in dis camp, an' dey's yo' bes' friends, too."
A sudden heart-sinking caused Ted's voice to be shaken as he asked when they expected to get back.
"Mr. Peters an' Mr. Jones say dey comin' right back—in two, three days. But how you gwine to calkilate on Mr. Hardy?" July stopped in his tracks and gazed solemnly into Ted's eyes. "Sposen his ma keep sick an' he stay dere till she die or git better? An' while he waitin', sposen dey grab him an' sen' him to do waw? We'd never see him yuh no mo'."
Ted's face brightened momentarily and he said:
"If—if I thought he would go to the war willingly, I—I could give him up."
"You sho is a cap'n," said July, looking down on the boy with admiration, "for I reckon you know it'll be mighty diffunt in dis camp wid Mr. Hardy gone."
"I know," said Ted, very serious. "I've been thinking about it."
"Fum de very fust day he stan' between youboys and dat rough crowd. An' dat puts me in mind o' what I got to tell you."
July suddenly fell silent. They were now near the turkey pen or trap, and a fluttering of wings against its bars showed that their trip was not to be without substantial gain. Two wild turkeys were captive in the pen. Having taken these out with much elation, clipped their wings, tied their feet together, and scattered more shelled corn to attract fresh victims, July lifted his fluttering burden, started on the backward track, and resumed:
"De las' words Mr. Hardy say to me was, 'July, tek good care o' dem boys,' and I aim to do my level bes' right now. Cap'n Ted, lem me give you a piece o' advice: don't you go to talkin' to dem t'other mens 'bout dat waw, let 'lone exhortin' and shamin' 'em like de way you done. Hit won't do; hit won't begin to do. You sho must know dat yo'self."
"I understand," said Ted, gloomily.
"If Mr. Peters an' Mr. Jones was dere, you might say a little, but better be careful any time. I kin keep you boys in good vittles, but I can'tkeep dem mens fum cuffin' you round if dey git mad. So, do please 'member what I tell you."
After Ted had gratefully thanked him July went on to express the conviction that if Buck had not gone away in such a great hurry he would have left the boys better protected; he would have insisted that Peters and Jones stay at the camp in his absence and that two other men go out for the supplies.
"But I reckon he was so worried 'bout his ma dat he couldn't think of eve'thing. He didn't forgit you, dough. He tole dem mens he wanted to take you-all out wid 'im. He say you been in dis swamp long enough an' you ought to be home. But dey wouldn't hear to it and dey voted him down. He was too worried an' busy gittin' ready to tussle wid 'em long, so he give up. But he tole 'em if anything happen to you boys while he gone dey'd have to answer to him."
"He's a gentleman," said Ted. "I can't understand why he ever came into this swamp, but I know what he is."
"So dat's de way it stans," said July, as they were approaching the camp. "Now, Cap'n Ted, you tell Hubut all I tole you, an' den you boysmus walk easy an' watch out. If anybody starts sump'n, don't let it be you."
Ted soon found opportunity to tell Hubert and was surprised to find that his cousin received the news more or less cheerfully.
"Now we may be able to get away from here," said Hubert. "I've wanted to go all the time, but you had notions in your head and were never ready. I liked your spunk, Ted, and I thought the way you talked to the slackers was fine; but I knew it would never do any good, and I thought it was foolish for us not to run away at the first chance."
"I wanted to try to do a little to help win the war," said Ted, rather pathetically, as if by way of excuse for error, as if wondering whether, after all, Hubert had been right and he had been wrong.
He sighed deeply, lacking in sufficient experience of life to know that even the greatest souls have moments of depression wherein they are doubtful as to whether the very purest and highest aspiration or endeavor is worth while or even justifiable before the bar of good sense.
"We must get ready and watch for our chance,"said Hubert, and Ted, sighing again, uttered no word of dissent.
That day, devoted in considerable part to the discussion of plans, passed without important incident. The slackers came and went, the boys kept mostly to themselves, discreetly remaining within the borders of the camp, and there was peace. But at supper they noticed a studied coolness toward them, particularly in the larger group of which Sweet Jackson was the center. While the boys spoke and acted with all discretion, Jackson stared at them often, talking in a low voice to those about him. His grudge against Ted was plainly visible and he seemed to be trying to stir up the other men against him. The boys went off to bed early, much troubled in mind. At the camp fire the next night Sweet Jackson deliberately stepped out of his path in order to hook his toe under Ted's outstretched leg and give it a rude and vicious shove.
"Why can't you keep yer feet out o' the road?" he shouted angrily.
"Why don't you do that to a man of your size?" cried Ted in hot indignation.
"Sizedon't bother me when I get good and mad," declared Jackson menacingly.
"Oh, Billy, don't you want to play a game!" called out Hubert in the most cheerful voice. "Come on, Ted."
Then Hubert jerked Ted to his feet and pulled him away in the direction of the imaginary Billy, who was, in fact, nowhere to be seen. "Don'tanswer him back," whispered the younger boy urgently. "If you do, we'll have trouble. Keep away from him!"
Thus the incident passed and with it any immediate danger, thanks to Hubert's ready and resolute interference.
The next day at breakfast and dinner July served the boys after the slackers had eaten and scattered—at Hubert's suggestion. And at supper he fed them with Billy at the cook-camp fire about forty feet apart from the fire around which the slackers ate and lounged. Sweet Jackson observed the new arrangement with a mocking smile, looking over at the cook-camp often as he talked merrily with those about him.
"That's right," he called out once. "Stay there with the nigger, where you belong."
Ted started up, furious, but Hubert hung upon him on one side and Billy, giggling and thinking it was a kind of game, hung upon him on the other.
"Don't!" warned Hubert.
And then, as several of the slackers spoke up in protest, Jackson made no further hostile demonstration.
Too outraged to speak, or even to think clearly, Ted soon rose and almost literally staggered off to bed.
"We'll have to go—to-day or to-night," were his first words to Hubert next morning, after a sleepless night.
This was at breakfast, after the slackers had scattered. He had purposely stayed in bed late in order to avoid them. He now spoke while the negro noisily cleaned his pots.
"Well, I've pumped July about all the trails leading out he knows of," said Hubert, "and all we've got to do is to make a choice and beat it at the first chance."
Suddenly the negro turned from his pots and planted himself in front of the two boys, his face very serious.
"Cap'n Ted," he began, "you reckon I kin 'pendon what you said 'bout gittin' a cook's job behind de lines in dat waw?"
"I can't say for certain, July, but I think you can."
"Well, I got to tek de risk anyhow," the negro announced with an air of finality. "I's gwine out o' dis swamp. I's done wid dat gang o' white trash. I got my dose. I gwine out wid you boys."
"That's great," cried Hubert. "But what's happened, July?"
"Dis mawnin' when I was workin' de bes' I knowd how an' givin' dem men good vittles, dey up an' made fun o' my hair. Dat-ere Sweet Jackson 'lowed dat a nigger wasn't a rale human pusson because, stid o' hair, he had wool on his haid. Den dey all looked at me an' laughed till dey shook. I wished I could 'a' tole 'em dey was a liar and a-busted 'em wide open!"
"That was very unkind," said Ted, struggling hard, as did Hubert, not to laugh.
"I reckon you boys done had all you want o' dat gang yo'sef," said July, "an' in as big a hurry to git away fum yuh as I is."
"Yes," agreed Hubert. "This is the fourthday and Mr. Peters and Mr. Jones haven't come back. There's no tellingwhenMr. Hardy will come. Even Ted hasn't anything to stay for now."