"I wanted so much to try to wake up some of the slackers and make them see," said Ted, "but I'm afraid I can't do anything now. I give up," he concluded, a big tear rolling down one cheek.
"Cap'n Ted, honey, don't you worry," said July, with sympathy. "You done yo' bes' and dat's all a man kin do. It look' to me sometimes like you was gwine to git Mr. Hardy an' maybe Mr. Peters, but you couldn't 'a' done nothin' wid dat white trash left yuh in dis swamp. If dey wasdraggedto de waw dey would des lay down an' let de Germans walk on 'em. I use' to hear a white gen'l'man say, 'you can't mek a silk purse out'n a sow's ear,' an' I putty nigh busted my head tryin' to understan' what he meant, but I knows now he was talkin' 'bout des sich trash as dat. Don't you worry, Cap'n Ted; de President an' de gov'ment'll tek care o' dat waw."
"We haven't any time to waste," spoke up Hubert impatiently, proposing that they at once decide on a plan and begin to get ready. He asked the negro if they could run away that very day.
July replied promptly that it wouldn't do to attempt to escape in the day time because since Mr. Hardy's departure the camp had been continually under observation from morning till evening. He said the break for freedom would have to be made at night "when dey ain't expectin'." With this much settled, they went on to discuss routes, and decided that a game of hide-and-seek led by Billy should be the form of camouflage masking their start on their road that night after supper.
The boys were still discussing plans when the majority of the slackers came into camp for dinner, and, as the new man, Mitch' Jenkins, passed near where they sat, Ted suddenly got upon his feet and asked eagerly for news from the Russian front.
"Now just look at him," muttered Hubert impatiently. "Will I ever get him away from this place?"
"Oh, Mr. Jenkins," began Ted, in his politest manner, just as if nothing disagreeable had occurred, "I've been wanting to ask you if, beforeyou came in, you heard whether Germany and Russia had made peace or not."
"I didn't hear no talk of it," said Jenkins, eying the boy curiously.
"They had been about to make peace," said Ted, "but just before I came in here they were on the point of going to war again. It was reported that the Russians had threatened to kill 1,500,000 German prisoners of war if the Kaiser marched his army on Petrograd. That would have been perfectly awful, but it's just the kind of thing the Germans themselves did in Belgium and France. I hope they haven't made peace; it's best for us for them to keep on fighting."
"You take a heap of interest, for just a boy, in that war 'way off yonder," said Jenkins, his manner not unfriendly.
"Everybody ought to take an interest, for we are in the fight, too, you know," said Ted, forgetting and becoming argumentative. "Why, don't you see, if the Germans whip all Europe and get England's fleet, they'll come right over here and attack us, and wherever they land our people will have to stand all the terrible things the Belgians and the French have had to stand."
"Here you are a-talkin' about that war again!" stormed Sweet Jackson, who had walked up in time to hear a few words.
"Look h-yer, Jackson, I don't see nothin' the matter with this boy," said Jenkins, his tone sharp and his look steady. "Why are you so sot agin him? He jes' asked me if two of them fightin' countries had made peace."
"Oh, well—if that was all," said Jackson more quietly, yielding before unexpected belligerence.
"Thank you, Mr. Jenkins," said Ted politely, and turned away.
"That's a nice, polite kid," said Jenkins to one of the slackers a few moments later. "What's all the row about anyhow?"
"But you ain't heard him exhortin' and shamin' us runaways yet."
"Did he do that? Well, that's a cat of another color. But he sure is a spunky kid."
After supper that night, as the slackers told yarns and joked about the camp fire, Billy, who had been craftily stimulated, seemed unusually wide awake and repeated nursery rhymes and "rigmaroles" by the dozen. Taking Hubert's hand in his, he touched the fingers one after another, repeating, "Little man—ring man—long man—lick pot—thumpkin." Then, tweaking the toes of his own bare feet, he merrily recited: "This little pig wants some corn; this one says, 'Where you goin' to git it?' This one says, 'In master's barn.' This one says he's goin' to tell. This one says, 'Queak!—queak!—can't git over the door-sill!'"
Touching first Hubert's index finger and then his own as each word was uttered, Billy went on: "William Ma-trimble-toe; he's a good fisherman; catches hens, puts 'em in pens; some lays eggs, some lays none; wire, briar, limber-lock; sets and sits till twelve o'clock; O-U-T spells 'out'—go!"
Thus was started the camouflage game of hide-and-seek, Ted at once, and July a little later by invitation, joining in the sport. It was a bright moonlight night, and no one seemed sleepy. The slackers stopped telling their yarns and watched the game, the seemingly joyful laughter of the boys and the negro affecting them agreeably. The fun was so contagious that several of the younger slackers, yielding to the fascination of it, joined in the game.
"Ten—ten—double ten—forty-five—fifteen hundred—are you all hid?" shouted Billy in great glee and with an air of vast importance. And such whooping and running and hiding in far dark recesses as followed!
"Now's de time!" whispered July, when the fun was at its height, and he and Ted and Hubert had run off and squatted together behind the same clump of palmettos.
According to the plan agreed to, the negro was now to run down to the landing-place, step into the water and hide all the boats as far out in the thick growth of the submerged swamp as he dared to go, thus conveying the impression that the fugitives had escaped by way of the great marsh.
The course of the game now compelled the conspirators to separate and return to headquarters; but as soon as the next rush for cover was made the boys saw the negro dart away in the direction of the landing, and until he returned they played more enthusiastically and noisily than ever in order to distract attention from his absence. When he reappeared at last his trousers were wet to the knees, but this did not seem to attract notice. It was understood that the first rush for cover in thegame after his return was to begin the dash for freedom.
So when the boys saw the negro again dart away along the path into the swamp-cane, they followed fast with throbbing hearts, arriving at the boat-landing before Billy had finished the last recitation of his "rigmarole." There Ted and Hubert were given their guns and July snatched up a bucket of food—all of which he had cunningly conveyed thither since the beginning of the game. The negro promptly stepped into the water and bade the boys follow.
"Got to wade round a piece to fool dem dogs," he whispered.
JULY led the boys about fifty feet from the shore along the open boat-road, then turned to the right into the thick growth and skirted the island for several hundred yards before landing again. This was no trifling undertaking. The water in many places rose over their knees, and was thick with drift and moss; the bottom was often boggy, and the dense swamp growth forced them to a tortuous route. Moreover, little light descended from the moon among those crowding trees.
"Ten—ten—double ten!" they faintly heard Billy still shouting as they landed, glad to know that as yet their absence had not caused alarm.
Flight across the "prairie" had been voted down because they could take only two boats and rapid pursuit would be inevitable. The trail leading out from Honey Island attracted them, but the boat trip thither was difficult and impossible to follow by night. So they had chosen the jungle trail leading from the lower end of Deserters' Island which the boys had located on the day they killed the wild-cat. The boats had been hidden and they had waded some distance in order to convey a wrong impression as to their real design and delay pursuit.
Halting to listen a few minutes after they landed, they distinctly heard the names of Ted and July called, and knew that at last they were missed. After a few minutes, as they hurried on their way, another shout reached them; and after a brief silence several sharp short yelps from the dogs were heard.
July leaped forward at the sound, urging the boys to haste. The darkness was bewildering until they emerged from the "hammock" and gained the more open pine woods forming the backbone of the island. Here the moonlight filtered through the scattering tops of the tall pines and they could distinguish prominent objects fifty feet away. Even here, however, rapid headway was difficult owing to the blackjack thickets and crowding clumps of the fan-palmetto preventing a straight course. There was a faint trail leading for some three miles toward the lower end of theisland, but there was no time to search for it, and they pushed ahead in the general direction as best they could.
An hour later, descending at last into the dense "hammock" growth joining the swamp and the island's lower end, they halted to listen. All was deathly still, at least in the direction of the slackers' camp; but the quiet of the dark slumbering swamp in their front was suddenly broken by the dismal hoot of an owl.
Ted urged that they search for the jungle trail he and Hubert had located and, having found it, push far into the swamp before break of day; but July's courage now failed him and he objected. He said it was dangerous to push into the swamp at night, as indeed it was; that they might sink into a bog over their heads, might walk blindly into a nest of moccasins, or might be set upon by a panther.
"The great trouble is that you are both right," said Hubert.
"Dem mens won't start down dis-a way till daylight," said July. "Dey won't find out we ain't in de boats till mawnin' an' we kin git a big start on'em on de swamp trail. Less stay up dere in dem open pines till daybreak."
They paused a few moments, undecided. Suddenly from the dark depths of the swamp in their front a strange cry was borne to their ears, an indescribable cry that made their flesh creep.
"What's that?" whispered Hubert.
"Mus' be a pant'er," was July's whispered response.
The cry was heard again, more mysterious and startling than before. Then July bolted up the slope and was followed by the boys into the more open pine woods where the moonlight outlined all objects within their near view. July wanted to build a fire, but Ted would not consent to such imprudence, and finally it was agreed that they sit down with their backs to a large pine and watch until daylight.
All was now quiet and gradually they recovered from their fright. It was balmy spring weather, but they felt the chill of the night air. With a view to their greater comfort, July rose and tore down a couple of armfuls of Spanish moss that thickly wreathed a near-by blackjack thicket. When their legs were covered with this they werewarm enough, but now found it increasingly difficult to sit upright and alert. Soon drowsiness overcame July, his head dropped on his breast and he began to snore. Ted roused him several times only to see him relapse into insensibility a few moments later.
Soon Hubert also was asleep, and, after watching for perhaps an hour longer, Ted himself succumbed. Later, as he struggled to rouse himself and opened his eyes, he saw that the moon was low and concluded that all was well. As he drifted back toward dreamland he thought he heard a yelp or two from distant dogs, but was too benumbed by drowsiness to give heed. Possibly the dogs of the far camp had started on the trail of some animal, but what could this matter to the three sleepers under the pine? This half-thought itself was soon gone and the boy lay still, undisturbed by even a dream.
When Ted awoke it was daylight, and the dogs were leaping about him and barking. Several men were at hand, too; and the one nearest, who looked down at the sleepers with a triumphant grin, was Sweet Jackson.
They were caught! And what else could theyhave expected? The events of the night leaped forth from the boy's memory to shame him. If only they had not been such cowards and sleepyheads!
"Don't hurt them boys! You can't blame 'em for tryin' to get away," called Mitch' Jenkins sharply, as Sweet Jackson began kicking July to wake him.
Ted hurriedly wakened Hubert and they both rose to their feet, turning away their indignant eyes from the severe kicking and cuffing bestowed upon July before he was allowed to rise.
"Thought you'd give us the slip along with them boys, did you?" shouted Sweet. "I'llteach you to give notice before you quit yer job."
"He's got a right to go home and so have we," cried Ted indignantly. "And some day you'll pay for this!"
"Shut up," cried Jackson, turning upon Ted—"if you want me to keep my hands off of you!"
"You let that boy alone," said Mitch' Jenkins, a distinct menace in his tone, and the bully subsided.
Then, being ordered to march and to "be quick about it," the prisoners started toward camp, Tedsilent and thoughtful, Hubert crying softly, and July with a face of gloom. Their captors followed, laughing and jesting as they came.
When the camp was reached July proceeded to cook breakfast, as ordered, and the boys stood and watched as the slackers set about building a "prison"—a sort of pen of heavy saplings—in which they announced that the negro would hereafter be locked up at night. What disturbed all of the captives perhaps even more than this was the order given to July, with threats of punishment, to "keep away from them boys" in the day time.
The building of the prison-pen occupied the slackers until near noon, and, while they were waiting about camp for their dinner, Mitch' Jenkins proposed that they "knock off" work that afternoon and "have a little fun out of a gander-pulling." Jenkins had brought a live gander on his march into the swamp because, as he explained when he reached the camp, he had failed to lay hands on a couple of fat chickens.
"But we ain't got no horses nor no race track," objected Zack James.
"Oh, we'll just swing him up and run roundand grab him on foot. It's been done that way. Anything for a little fun."
This proposal having been adopted, preparations for the sport were begun immediately after dinner. From the stout limbs of two neighboring trees branching out some six or eight feet apart a rope was loosely swung, and to this the gander's feet were securely tied, so that the fowl's neck hung within easy reach of a man of average height. Before the squawking bird was hung up its neck was thoroughly greased, both operations being strenuously objected to and jealously watched by Billy, who had already adopted the gander as one of his pets.
All hands having gathered at the spot, Jenkins, the leading spirit of the festivity, passed round a hat and took up a collection of coins as a prize for the as yet unknown victor. The two boys, Billy and July formed the party of spectators, all the slackers, now only six in number, proposing to enter the contest. Lots having been drawn in order to determine who should have the first trial, the second, the third, and so on, Mitch' Jenkins announced the opening of the sport.
"Everything is lovely and the goose hangs high," he shouted. "Gentlemen—let 'er go!"
Thereupon Sweet Jackson, who had drawn the first lot, took position about fifty feet away and at a given signal started forward at a rapid run. As he neared the swinging gander, his right hand was thrust upward, and he endeavored to seize the fowl by its neck. But in this he failed, the gander cunningly twisting its head out of reach.
A loud guffaw went up from the on-looking slackers as this signal failure was witnessed. Jim Carter then ran forward and grasped at the neck of the swinging fowl with no better success. The turn of Zack James followed. He succeeded in seizing the gander's neck, and, but for the treacherous grease, its head would have accompanied him in his onward rush. Released, the unhappy bird swung back and forth, hissing and squawking in an extremely ludicrous yet pathetic manner, exciting the laughter of the slackers, the pity of the boys and the angry protest of Billy.
"Quit it! Quit it, I tell you! You-all let my gander alone!" cried the witless young man again and again as the contest continued.
Once he ran forward and tried to take the fowldown, but retired, whimpering, on receiving a resounding box on the ear from Jackson.
After all hands had made several trials and the gander's greasy neck had received a number of rude wrenches, the poor fowl held its head less high, ceased to hiss, and squawked more plaintively than ever. The game was easier now, and almost every contestant succeeded in grasping the neck as he ran past, but always failed to retain his hold.
At last, after the contest had continued for more than an hour and a half, and the object of the cruel sport had almost ceased to make any outcry whatever, Zack James leaped upward as he ran by and grasped the neck of the fowl near its breast. As his body was carried onward by the force of its momentum, his tightly gripped hand slipped rapidly along the gander's neck, but paused at its head. For one moment the man's body swung from the ground, his whole weight supported by the neck of the still living fowl. It was then that he gave his hand a vigorous twist. The next moment he pitched forward on his feet, carrying the gander's head in his grasp.
At this moment Ted seized the opportunity offered by the universal preoccupation of the slackers to speak earnestly to Hubert. In spite of their disapproval of such cruel sport, both boys had been absorbingly interested in the contest, but now Ted's thoughts returned to the problem of escape from Deserters' Island. Declaring that another attempt should be made that night, he urged Hubert to be watchful and ready. Then, stepping cautiously to the side of the negro, whose eyes were fastened on the now noisily disputing slackers, the boy said:
"We must try it again to-night, July."
"Don' know 'bout dat," said the negro doubtfully. "Better wait. Dey'll be watchin' us too close."
"That's it; they won't be expecting it to-night, and that's the very reason we ought to have a good chance."
This view of the matter promptly appealed to the negro, who ceased to object and listened attentively to the boy's suggestions.
"Get ready on the sly," urged Ted. "Put a bucket of food where you can lay your hands on it, and late in the night we'll slip out of the loft and let you out of your pen."
"All right, Cap'n Ted; I'll be ready, an' if I's sleep, des gimme a punch in de ribs."
Then they moved quickly away from each other and gave their attention to the loudly contending slackers.
"AndIsay Mr. James gits the prize," cried Mitch' Jenkins.
He detached himself from a noisy group as he spoke, stepped to the side of the waiting victor and poured the collection of coins into his hand.
"He didn't git it fair," declared Sweet Jackson, in loud, angry tones. "Whocan'twring off a gander's neck if he swings on to it that-a way?"
"We all had the same chance to do what he did," argued Jenkins, good-humoredly. "The trouble was we couldn't keep our grip."
"I say hit wan't done fair!" repeated Jackson, in great anger.
Flushed with victory, James did not pause to calculate consequences and now gave his accuser the lie, which, in local parlance, was equivalent to the "first lick."
Sweet Jackson's face turned livid, and, whipping out a large pocket-knife, he leaped towardJames. Almost at the same instant Jenkins and Carter sprang toward Jackson from opposite sides, but the uplifted blade descended before James had protected himself and ere the interference was made fully effective. Although Jackson's arm was seized, the point of the knife deeply grazed the left cheek of the prize-winner. A moment later the staring spectators noted a rapidly expanding streak of red. The murderous but fortunately arrested blow had done only slight damage, yet the free flow of blood imparted a harsh and startling reality to the forbidding scene, the horror of which was intensified by the effect on Billy.
"Oh, yes, Zack James, see now what you got for pullin' off my gander's head!" cried the witless young man triumphantly, capering about and giggling. "See what you got now! I wish my gander knowed it. I'll bet he does know, too. Anyhow he'll know by and by and he'll laugh. He'll have a good laugh."
"Stop that!" commanded Jenkins, turning a shocked and stern face toward the untimely merrymaker.
Then Billy subsided, watching as silently as the other spectators while Jackson was forced away in one direction and James in the other, both cursing with great fury, and each vowing that he would take the life of the other.
THE two boys and the negro remained motionless in their places, wondering what would happen next, until Billy cut down the body of the headless gander and was about to bear it away. Then July interfered.
"Gim-me dat gander, boy," he said, laughing. "Quit yer foolin' an' gwine on. We got to hab dat gander for supper."
James now sat with his back to a pine, and Jenkins was bending over him and wiping away the blood with a wet handkerchief. The latter, seeing that the cut was little more than a painful scratch, began to jest and laugh, the atmosphere of tragedy being thus quickly dispersed. Having salved the wound, predicting a speedy healing, Jenkins turned to seek Jackson and "give him a talking to." The "knife-slinger" was pointedly informed that if he wanted to have a single friend left in the camp, he had better keep a grip on himself in future. Listening to this forcible utterance of common sense, Jackson rapidly cooled down, ceasing his profane and threatening speeches.
And so, in spite of the violent termination of the festive gander-pulling, the slackers soon recovered their wonted spirits. After supper, with the exception of the wounded man who went immediately to bed, they sat about the fire and joked, sang corn-shucking songs, and drank corn-beer, in the greatest possible good humor.
But July smiled covertly and shook his head, as soon as he found opportunity thus forcibly expressing himself:
"Look yuh, Cap'n Ted, I got to git away fum dis place befo' somebody draw a knife on me an' cut my throat."
"We'll get away to-night," said the boy confidently.
"We got a good chance," assented July. "After all dat jollification dem mens'll sleep hard, cep'n it's Mr. James wid dat cut face. You better look out forhim. You better not move a foot till 'way late 'bout two o'clock."
Hubert fell asleep soon after they had lain down on their bed of moss in the corner of theloft, but Ted lay awake for hours, listening and waiting. He had been rendered the more anxious by a suggestion that was made as the slackers were taking off their shoes and preparing to lie down.
"Don't you reckon we'd better tie them boys?" proposed Sweet Jackson.
"Oh, no," answered the more humane Jenkins. "They've had their lesson."
Jackson did not seem to think it necessary to insist and the boys were left in freedom of hand and foot, to their great relief. But the restlessness of James was a continuing source of apprehension, his smarting face causing him to turn frequently with a grunt or sigh or muttered exclamation of annoyance.
At last Ted began to fear that there was no hope of stealing out of the loft that night, and in the midst of his discouragement sleep overtook him.
When he awoke all was quiet, except for the snoring of several of the men. Zack James, who had been restless so long, now lay still and made no sound. Ted did not know why, but he felt convinced that it was near morning. Liftinghimselfguardedly upon his knees, he bent over his sleeping cousin, shook him and whispered in his ear.
Hubert stirred sleepily and began a stupid muttering in a voice seemingly so loud that Ted was terrified, allowing the boy to relapse into slumber. After listening intently and hearing no disturbance, Ted tried again and this time roused Hubert to complete wakefulness without noise.
The two then crept along the wall until they stood opposite the hole in the floor. As they did this, Ted, who led the way, stumbled over an outstretched foot and narrowly escaped falling. The disturbed sleeper grunted, muttered a few unintelligible words, turned over, and all was quiet again. Just as the boys were preparing to swing themselves down through the opening, not daring to put down the ladder, one of the sleepers stirred noisily, and they heard the voice of James demanding:
"Who's that?"
Drawing back into the deep shadow, the boys stood silent, holding their very breath. The challenge was repeated. Then, for perhaps a quarter of an hour, Ted and Hubert stood in their tracks,hardly moving a muscle, breathing softly, and fearing that even the beating of their hearts would be heard.
Convinced at last that the wounded man had relapsed into slumber, they noiselessly swung themselves down through the opening and dropped softly to the ground below. Several dogs, lying asleep beneath the loft, rose and followed the boys with signs of great cheerfulness, evidently anticipating a night hunt.
The first need was to "turn July out," as Hubert put it. This consisted merely in lifting away the heavy section of a log braced against the makeshift door of the prison-pen, and was soon accomplished without noise. July came forth, rubbing his eyes, and whispering:
"I clean give you out an' went to sleep. It's mose daylight," he added, "an' we better be gwine quick."
"Let's take the dogs, so that they can't use 'em to track us," suggested Ted. "We can make 'em come back after we get a good start of five or six miles. I wish I could keep Spot," he added, referring to the dog that had so devotedly battled with the panther.
July agreed to this, and the dogs were called softly. The whole pack, five in number, followed gladly, as the boys and the negro hurried away from the camp. It had been decided on the evening before to take the jungle trail leading from the lower end of Deserters' Island, and they now moved in that direction. The intervening miles of high pine land were covered with the greatest possible speed. Wherever the ground was sufficiently open they ran, and even in the brush they pushed forward rapidly, careless of scratched hands and faces or torn clothing.
Faint light filtered through the treetops from the whitening sky before they had traversed half the length of the island, and by the time they reached its limit birds on every hand were singing their welcome to the arrival of a new day. The fugitives now observed with considerable concern that the dogs had disappeared, surmising that they had recognized the difference between a flight and a hunt and in consequence had returned to camp.
They soon found the trail and hurried down into the jungle, careless of the mud and water, the thorny brambles, the possible moccasins. Theyknew that within an hour's time the pursuit would begin and recognized the need of great haste at any cost.
July, who led the way, paused suddenly; and, opening the tin bucket carried on his arm, urged the boys to take some of the sandwiches therein and stuff them in their pockets.
"May be hard to keep togedder when dey come at' us wid de dawgs," he said,—adding: "But if you boys git lost fum me, you keep gwine on by yo'self till you git out de swamp an' find yo' way home."
Pressing on with the utmost energy for an hour longer, and not as yet hearing any sounds indicating pursuit, they began to feel more secure; and soon, at the urgent suggestion of Hubert, they sat down on a log to refresh themselves with some of the cold food while resting their wearying legs.
"We got to be gwine!" cried July less than fifteen minutes later.
He had sprung to his feet as the distant baying of dogs fell on his ear. All knew at once that the slackers were again on their trail and that there was no time to lose.
Again the negro led the way, taking new precautions and urging the boys to do precisely as he did. As he dashed forward over the difficult ground, he jumped from tussock to tussock, stepped upon roots and masses of dry moss, and avoided every bit of soft exposed earth where a track would remain imprinted. Whenever a fallen log ran parallel with their course, he sprang upon it and walked its full length. Once he made a complete circle, two hundred yards or more in diameter; then, springing upon a fallen log several feet beyond the limits of this circle, and directing the boys to do likewise, he pressed forward again over the direct course.
All this was intended to confuse and delay the dogs, if it did not throw them off the scent altogether; but in no great while it appeared to have succeeded only in a small measure. For the baying, instead of gradually fading away in the distance as desired, after ceasing for a time became more vigorous than ever and unmistakably drew nearer. Soon July halted, looked round, and waited for the boys to overtake him.
"Dem dawgs'll be yuh in no time," he said, discouraged.
"Will they bite us?" asked Hubert apprehensively.
"No; they know us," said Ted. "We could shoot them," he added, facing the negro, a question in his tone. "I'd hate to do it, and I don't think Icouldshoot Spot, but we have a right to do it."
Ted and Hubert carried their small guns. The negro was armed only with a hatchet and a heavy butcher-knife, the blade of which gleamed brightly where it stuck in his belt.
"Better let me go for 'em wid de hatchet or dis knife," said July, shaking his head. "Soon's you shoot dem mens'll know 'zackly where we is."
Further discussion was checked by the warning of a yelp very close in their rear. Bidding the boys conceal themselves, July ran back a few yards over the trail and took his stand behind a large tree trunk.
As the foremost dog was about to trot past, the negro leaned over and dealt it a terrific blow on the head with the butt end of the hatchet, breaking through its skull. With a stifled cry in its throat, the dog rolled over and lay in the struggle of approaching death, whereupon thefour others coming up shied away from the unseen danger and took to their heels on the backward track with yelps of affright.
After Ted had gladly taken note that the slain dog was not Spot, the three fugitives hurried onward as before, and for an hour they heard nothing more from the dogs. Finally a subdued and, as it seemed, muffled yelp began to be heard at intervals. July looked puzzled and several times paused to listen, showing great anxiety when he became convinced that the sounds were drawing nearer. At last he said he believed that the slackers held the dogs in leash, their object being to steal upon the unsuspecting fugitives while they halted to rest in fancied security.
"If we ain't quick dey'll nab us befo' we know it," the negro concluded.
"Can't we put the dogs off the scent in some way?" asked Ted, looking about him.
They were now in a dense growth of water-oaks and other trees, gay with the full green leafage of spring; and some little distance ahead water could be seen.
"I believe we could climb up and swing from limb to limb until we got out yonder over thatwater," eagerly proposed Ted. "Then we could drop down and wade as far as the water went, then climb up again, and, if the trees keep thick enough, go quite a long way.Thatwould break the trail."
"It sho will," assented July, "if only we kin do it. May be easy for you light boys, but hit won't be so easy for me."
"Let's try it anyhow," urged Ted, and they at once began preparations.
By means of stout twine, much of which they had fortunately stuffed into their pockets, Ted securely strapped his gun on his back. July having disposed of Hubert's gun and his own bucket in the same way, giving Hubert the hatchet in exchange, and all now having arms as well as legs free, they began to climb.
For once, Hubert led the way. Lifting himself among the larger branches of a spreading water-oak, he found it comparatively easy to walk out on a lower limb—while grasping a higher—until he could lay hold of an interlacing branch and swing himself safely among the larger arms of a neighboring tree. Repeating this performance, he passed on from tree to tree.
Ted followed readily enough, for, though older, he was no heavier than Hubert, and was even more active; but he lingered behind to watch and softly encourage July. Because of his far greater weight and the bending of the branches beneath him, the negro might well hesitate and move cautiously. He soon saw that his only hope was in a bold leap into the branches of the neighboring tree, trusting to his quick, firm grasp to arrest his descent to the ground.
The sound of a muffled yelp from the dogs, unmistakably coming from a point only a short distance away, spurred July on, and he took the dangerous leap, landing among the stout branches of the neighboring tree unharmed save for scratches and bruises which he scarcely felt.
"You can do it," Ted called back softly, by way of encouragement. "Come on as fast as you can."
"Don't wait on me," said July. "I'll git dere bimeby. You boys hurry on."
So Ted followed faster on the track of Hubert. Within a few minutes from the start the boys had transported themselves more than a hundred yards without setting foot on the ground and weresoon over the water. They then let themselves down, waded knee-deep some fifty yards among scattering cypress trees, grasped a low limb of another water-oak, swung themselves up and were once more traveling, monkey-like, aloft.
"You go ahead, Hubert," said Ted. "I'll wait here till I see July coming."
Hubert went on and Ted waited. But he waited in vain, for July was in trouble. After leaping successfully three or four times, at last—while the boys were wading across the cypress pool—July failed to gain a firm hold of the branches through which his heavy body descended, and, though his fall was broken by the leafy obstructions, he struck the ground with great force and was for a few moments partially stunned.
A sudden yelping of the dogs now very close at hand roused him to action. Struggling to his feet, he laid hold of the tree into which he had attempted to jump, and climbed with some difficulty into its branches. The unfortunate negro saw that it was now too late to jump again, even if he dared to do so, badly shaken as he was, and that his forlorn and only resource was to concealhimself as best he could in the higher foliage of the tree.
Scarcely had the trembling of the leaves and branches subsided when the pursuers were heard very near at hand, July promptly recognizing the voices of Sweet Jackson, Jim Carter and two other men belonging to the camp. They held the dogs in leash, as the negro had suspected, but were marching with the greatest possible speed. Reaching the point where the trail came to an end, the dogs one and all halted, snuffing the air in a mystified way, and could hardly be forced forward.
"They must be round h-yer some'rs," the harsh voice of Sweet Jackson declared.
"Mebby they tuck a tree," suggested Carter.
A silence followed, and July understood only too well that the members of the party had separated and were scanning the neighboring treetops. Suddenly one of the dogs began to bay immediately beneath him, and a few moments later the triumphant voice of Carter was heard:
"H-yer's one of 'em up this tree!"
THE dog had snuffed the spot where he fell to the ground, and poor July was discovered.
"It's the nigger," announced Carter after a few moments.
"Shoot 'im if he don't git down from there quick," cried Jackson, savagely.
Instantly the branches of the water-oak began to tremble, and July descended with all speed.
"Now where's them boys?" demanded his captors.
"I dun-know where dey is."
Curses greeted this denial, and Jackson threatened to "break every bone" in the negro's body if he did not reveal the hiding place of the boys at once.
"I tell you I dun-know," insisted July, determined to prevent the capture of his young confederates if he could possibly do so. "All I know is," he lied boldly, "dey got lost fum me 'way back yonder where we fout de dawgs."
Abusive exclamations of incredulity were supplemented by Carter with the warning:
"That was Rafe Wheeler's dog you killed, and I reckon he'll make you see sights before he's done with you."
July knew that there was trouble ahead of him in any case, and as he obediently followed his captors while they beat the neighboring bush, endeavoring in vain to start the dogs on the scent, he stuck to his story, unblushingly inventing incidents with a view to impart to it an atmosphere of convincing reality.
As Ted waited and watched for July, he noted that the spreading branches of the water-oak embraced the trunk of an immense old decaying cypress, and that there was a circular opening in its side a foot or two above him and only a few feet away. Plainly there was a large hollow—possibly the result of some past forest fire—for the opening was at least two feet in diameter. He saw also that, by moving a foot or two nearer on the limb supporting his weight, he could grasp the sides of the opening and perhaps enter the hollow.
He now heard the murmur of voices and listened intently, fearing that the pursuers had arrived and put an end to July's chances of escape. The voices grew louder, and then the tramp of feet was heard, but still Ted lingered, owing both to his concern for July's safety and his eagerness to know the definite issue.
Then, before he realized that they were so near, the slackers appeared with the dogs and July himself on the other side of the cypress pool and began to wade across.
Ted now perceived that he was in peril. It was too late to hurry on the trail of Hubert, for the noise and leafy commotion inevitably accompanying his passage from tree to tree would at once attract attention. Doubtless Hubert was far enough away to be reasonably safe and could for the time be left to take care of himself. At all events Ted realized that his own safety could be his only immediate concern, and that it was necessary not only to keep quiet but to hide.
Therefore, without a moment's delay, he moved guardedly out on the bending limb, leaned forward and grasped the sides of the cypress's hollow, which fortunately proved to be firm. Drawing himself up quietly, he thrust his feet throughthe opening and slid into the hollow with but little noise. As he did so, a large squirrel whisked past him with a frightened squeak and scurried wildly up the sides of the cypress.
"I never saw such a piece of good luck," Ted declared afterward, relating that the hollow was neither too big nor too little, and that his feet landed on a firm bottom just far enough below the opening to permit him to stand comfortably and look out.
But when he looked out he could see little more than the foliage of the water-oak. He listened intently as the slackers waded across the pool. He hoped that they would turn aside, but they seemed to come straight on. A few moments later the dogs made a noisy rush and he heard them barking excitedly immediately beneath the cypress. Convinced that he had been scented and was now "treed," the boy feared that one of the slackers would promptly climb up and drag him from his hiding place.
But he kept quiet and still hoped for some fortunate turn of events. Tempted to lean out and look down, he drew his head back quickly and almost held his breath. He had glimpsed two mentramping around in the shallow water beneath the oak and looking up into its branches. Evidently the opening in the side of the cypress had not yet been discovered, as there was no triumphant outcry, and at this thought Ted felt somewhat encouraged. He now heard the impatient voice of Carter:
"Idon't see nothin'. What's the matter with them dogs anyhow?"
Then came the voice of July, speaking at a greater distance:
"Look at dat fox-squirrel!—skippin' round 'way up in de top o' dat cypress! Dat's what ail de dawgs."
Ted blessed the squirrel for the good service it had evidently performed by changing its position and immediately attracting the eye of those below because of the cypress's characteristically thin leafage.
"I reckon that's it," said Garter.
"It sho is," insisted July, "for dem boys is a fur ways fum yuh des like I tole you."
"Don't care how fur—I'll git 'em 'fore I quit," the angry voice of Sweet Jackson was then heard.
"Drive them dogs away from there and come on."
The dogs were called off, the voices became only a faint murmur, the noisy tramping through water subsided, and soon the ordinary quiet of the forest reigned. Recovering his wonted spirits, Ted laughed softly, but remained motionless for twenty minutes or more. He would have waited still longer but for his anxiety in regard to the whereabouts and fate of Hubert.
Climbing out of the hollow, he let himself down into the shallow water beneath the oak and whistled softly. He whistled again a little more loudly, and was then immensely gratified to receive a cautious response. Whistling softly, the boys approached each other and soon stood face to face. Then each quickly told his story.
"Yes, I heard 'em," said Hubert, "and I was almost too scared to breathe. I stayed up in my tree as quiet as a mouse. I was awfully afraid they'd get you as well as July."
They hurried on their way as they talked, and soon left the neighborhood far behind. It was now midday and, being no longer in fear of immediate capture, the boys had leisure to discoverthat they were tired as well as hungry. So they stopped to rest and eat what remained of the cold bread and meat given them by July. But they knew that there was no time to be lost and within less than half an hour they were pushing forward again.
Soon after they had penetrated the jungle that morning, the trail gradually faded away until July doubted whether they had found the right one in the first place; and, after the dogs were heard on their track, the negro made no further effort to follow it, but pushed ahead in the general direction taken, choosing the most open and passable ground. This was Ted's plan now.
Toward mid-afternoon the ground began slowly to rise before them, and the forest growth to become less dense, until finally they emerged from the jungle region altogether and found themselves on an open pine ridge where the ground was covered with wiregrass and dotted with clumps of fan-palmettoes. They believed they were now, at last, clear of the great swamp, but tramped on without any exchange of congratulatory exclamations, not daring to jubilate too soon.
"This looks like the outside," was all Hubertsaid, and Ted merely admitted: "It looks good to me."
"I smell smoke," said Hubert a few minutes later.
They had now tramped out into the open pine woods some half a mile, and the wind blowing into their faces wafted a distinctly smoky odor, suggesting a forest fire. The probability of this was shortly confirmed by the sight of fleeing birds, and here and there an animal, as a deer, a fox or a skunk making rapidly toward the flooded swamp area.
"Somebody must be burnin' off the woods for the cattle," said Ted, elated. "If that's it, we are certainly out of the swamp at last."
He referred to the common practice in the region bordering the Okefinokee of firing the woods in spring in order to destroy the year's crop of tough wiregrass and so give place to a tender green growth on which the cattle might feed to better advantage.
In no great while the boys could see the fire itself here and there, and ere long they were confronted by an unbroken barrier of flame extending across the whole ridge. Their position wasbecoming dangerous, and Ted looked around in some anxiety. The swamp half a mile behind was a certain refuge, and he believed that they could reach it ahead of the fire, but he was reluctant to turn back. While hesitating, his eye fell upon a small cypress pond some three hundred yards to the left, and, calling on Hubert to follow, he started toward it on a run.
Ted felt confident that, even if there were no water in the pond, the fire would not burn through it. "Pond" is hardly an accurate description of these little groves of a dozen or two of cypresses so frequently found in the pine barrens, although they are always on low, swampy ground, which in wet weather is likely to be covered with a foot or two of water. A small pool about twenty feet in diameter lingered in the center of this one, but the boys did not wade into it. As soon as they stood among the cypress "knees" and trod upon spongy ground covered with damp pine needles they felt safe.
During a few minutes hot and almost stifling smoke filled the surrounding atmosphere, but the fire itself merely burned round the edges of the pond and then passed on its roaring way, the windsoon carrying off the smoke also. After waiting some little time for the ashes of the burnt grass to cool, the boys came out of their retreat and picked their way across the blackened ground. The wiregrass had entirely disappeared before the flames, but the tall pines, the scrub-oaks and the clumps of fan-palmettos stood for the most part intact. Here and there some fallen and well-seasoned log still burned vigorously, and in a few instances fire had run up on the oozing sap to the tops of the tallest trees.
Ted and Hubert tramped over the blackened and heated earth about a mile and a half, always hoping soon to see the clearing and log house of some backwoods settler. But when at last they reached a "hammock" growth and descended through it to the borders of a vast "prairie" or marsh, in every respect similar to the one adjoining Deserters' Island, this pleasing hope became a sigh of regret.
It was now quite clear that they were still within the borders of the great Okefinokee, and that they had just traversed one of its islands or areas of elevated land. The origin of the fire puzzled Ted at first, but he concluded that someof the slackers, or hunters from the outside, had recently been there and had neglected to extinguish or clear a space about their camp-fire.
"It's going to rain," said Ted, looking up at the darkening sky, "and we'd better fix our camp right away."
A favorable spot on the outskirts of the hammock was chosen, and they hurriedly erected a "brush tent," or lean-to, similar to those they had heard the slackers speak of building when too far away to return to camp for the night. When the fugitives began their tree-top retreat that morning, July had relieved Hubert of his gun and given the boy his hatchet in exchange. With the hatchet the boys now cut down a slender sapling which they tied at each end with bear-grass thongs to two small trees about ten feet apart. Against this cross-bar, which was about four feet from the ground, eight or ten other cut saplings were leaned at an angle of about forty-five degrees and less than a foot apart. Over these were then arranged about a hundred palmetto fans cut within a few feet of the spot, thus forming a thatch which was protected against gusts of wind by two or three other saplings laid diagonally across.They thus secured a fairly good shelter and were sure of sleeping dry unless the wind changed and blew into the open front instead of against the thatch at the back.
It was nearly dark when the work was finished, but it had not yet begun to rain. While Hubert now gathered wood for their camp-fire, Ted took his gun and stole off into the woods, hoping to shoot something for supper. He had not gone very far when a fluttering and dimly outlined forms on a high limb of a tall bay tree indicated a "turkey roost." Taking careful aim, he fired, and then, amid the noisy flap of wings as the wild fowl scattered, he thought he heard a soft thud on the ground beneath the "roost." Running to the foot of the bay tree, he was delighted to find that he had bagged a plump turkey-hen.
Some Spanish moss having been gathered and spread on the ground in the acute angle of the lean-to, and portions of the turkey having been broiled with fair success on glowing coals raked out of the fire, the boys satisfied their hunger and lay down with a feeling of comfort which hardly seemed in keeping with their continuing misfortunes, and which was not lessened by the harmless patter of the rain-drops on the thatch over their heads.
"I hope a bear won't come along and knock our shelter down," remarked Hubert a few minutes after they lay down.
There was no real apprehension in his tone, the first nervousness inseparable from sleeping in the remote woods of the Okefinokee having by this time disappeared even in his case. Ted stretched his limbs, yawned, and made no reply; but a few minutes later he said:
"You remember Uncle Walter saying the night before he left for Washington that the experts thought the war would last about three years? If it does, we'll be about old enough to go in—if we volunteer, and I will."
"I wouldn't mind an old-fashioned war, with fighting in the open in the old way," said Hubert, after a moment's thought. "But that hard and dirty trench fighting, the terrible big new cannon, the poison gas, and all the devilish doings of the Germans—it sort of gets on my nerves."
"We'd get used to it," said Ted. "And to go in is the only thing to do. You remember the Greek mythology tale about how the new race ofgods knocked out and gave the hideous and terrible Cyclops their finish, fastening them down under great rocks? The Germans and their deviltry make me think of the Cyclops, and they've got to be put down in something of the same sort of way, or the world won't be safe for anybody. It's like going out after mad dogs. It's dangerous, and you don't like it, but you've got to do it."
Hubert's thoughtful silence admitted the correctness of Ted's view. After some minutes without speech the younger boy asked:
"Ted, what are you thinking about?"
"I was thinking that even if the slackers did catch us and take us back to Deserters' Island, maybe it would be for the best, after all," said Ted. "You see, I might make a friend of Mr. Jenkins—there's something nice about him—and maybe I might get him interested in the war and persuade him to go out——"
"Well, you arethe limit!" exclaimed Hubert, in disgust.
Then he turned over, refusing to talk any more, and soon fell asleep.
IN the early morning they were awakened by the rain falling on their faces, and found their once dry and cosy retreat now thoroughly wet and uncomfortable. Not only did water percolate through the hastily constructed palmetto thatch, but, the wind having changed, the rain now beat in from the front. A slow, steady downfall evidently had continued throughout the night.
"It's a set-in rain, and we're goin' to have a hard time," Hubert complained.
It was only with great difficulty and after long effort that they succeeded in building a fire, and by the time the remainder of the turkey, which had been hung out of reach of marauding animals the night before, had been broiled and eaten, it was late in the morning.
What to do next was the puzzling question. Even the night before Ted had been troubled to answer. To turn back might invite an encounter with a pursuing party of slackers, yet the marshbarred further progress, unless the boys were willing to take the risks involved in wading through mud, slime, mosses, rushes, "bonnets," and what not, the water being no doubt over their heads in many places.
"Let's try it," Ted proposed at last. "We are wet to the skin anyhow, and if we can't do it, we can come back here. If we can get across, I don't think it will take us long to find our way out of the swamp."
Hubert shrank from but agreed to the undertaking, preferring almost anything whatsoever to turning back with the prospect of falling into the hands of a pursuing party of slackers. Both boys were good swimmers, but Ted thought it unwise to venture on a flooded marsh of unknown depth without some safeguard. As they had no boat and probably would be unable to float a raft, even if one could be constructed, he decided to take with them a section of a tree to which they might cling, in case they should advance beyond their depth and be unable to swim on account of the mosses and sedge crowding the marsh water at so many points.
After considerable search Ted found a dead cypress which had broken into parts in its fall before a wind storm. A section of this about twelve feet long and about a foot in diameter, was chosen. Having provided themselves with light slender poles some ten feet long, and tied the gun and hatchet between two short up-reaching branches of the log, the boys succeeded in launching what Ted termed their "life-preserver."
While they were accomplishing this task Hubert made his first acquaintance with a curiosity of the Okefinokee, more noticeable in times past than now along the shores of islands within or bordering the marshes. Stepping off from the island shore, Hubert walked forward upon a seeming continuation of land—a mass of floating vegetable forms, intermingled with moss, drift and slime, forming a compact floor capable of sustaining his weight, which, although it did not at once break through beneath him, could be seen to sink and rise at every step for several feet around.
"Why this ground moves!" cried Hubert, astonished.
"You'd better look out," said Ted. "It won'thold you up much longer. It's not ground; it's floating moss and stuff——"
He paused, smiling, as Hubert broke through and stood in mud and water above his knees.
"I heard one of the slackers speak of that moving stuff as 'floating batteries,'" Ted added. "Uncle Walter said the Indians, in old times, called it 'Okefinokee' or 'trembling earth,' and that was how the swamp got its name."
Once they had dragged their "life preserver" over the "trembling earth," the boys made better progress, although they still had to contend with a submerged slimy moss of a green color and a great variety of crowding rushes. As they staggered along, dragging the log, now only up to their knees in water, now sinking in the yielding ooze until the water rose above their waists, they were for a time much annoyed by a little black fly or bug haunting the sedge which stung like a mosquito.
The clouds still dropped a slow drizzle, and a mist lay upon the great marsh, in which the many little islands, clothed in dun-colored vegetation, loomed up in dim, uncertain outlines. Ted remarked that he had heard the slackers call theseislets "houses," but that to him they now rather suggested huge phantom ships. Many cranes, herons and "poor-jobs" had already risen at their approach; and as they advanced farther out on the marsh, where the water deepened, the sedge began to thin and to be succeeded by "bonnets" or water lilies, large flocks of ducks flew up, and occasionally a curlew skimmed across their course.
Passing not far from one of the little islands, they noted that it was grown up at the edges with low cassina bushes, and that other vegetation sloped gradually up to two or three tall cypresses in the center, the whole being drearily decorated with long trailing drifts of Spanish moss.
"It looks like a big circus tent," said Hubert.
The water still deepened, and soon they were obliged to swim—Ted with his left arm thrown over the forward end of the cypress log, and Hubert with his right resting on the rear end. A couple of hundred yards or so further on they entered an open and perceptible current flowing almost at right angles to their course.
"Let's follow this," proposed Ted. "It will be so much easier to carry the log."
So they swam on, floating their log with thegentle current which flowed narrowly between the bordering "bonnets," little dreaming that they were on the head-waters of the famed Suwanee River.
How far they traveled, floating on this current, they hardly knew, being unable to see any great distance or keep anything like landmarks in view. As soon as one of the ghostly little islands floated past and disappeared in the mist, another would be outlined in their front, and, all of them being more or less alike, the effect was confusing. They lost count, as it were, of both distance and time.
Finally Hubert protested that he was cold as well as tired and hungry, and demanded that they land on the next "house." Ted thought longingly of a rest, too, and as soon as they were opposite another islet, he struck out toward it through the "bonnets" and sedge, forcing the log along with Hubert's help.
In this way they floated into a round open pool which the mist had concealed from view. Ted had no sooner sighted several dark floating objects a short distance ahead than the water about him became curiously agitated, and, with a cry of alarm, he glanced back at Hubert.
"Jump on the log!" he shouted. "We're in a 'gator hole."
Neither boy could afterward have told how he did it, but almost in a twinkling both stood upright on the log, maintaining a precarious balance by dipping their long sticks in the water, first on one side and then on the other. Under their combined weight the log sank so low that it was almost entirely submerged, and this added to the alarm of both when they saw that the pool seemed to be alive with alligators large and small, for a hundred feet around. Some of the huge scaly saurians swam about rather lazily, while others lay quiet on the water and gazed at the intruders with their black, lusterless eyes. As yet they exhibited no signs of either fear or anger, and even seemed lacking in curiosity.
But it was Hubert's first experience with the alligator of Florida and southern Georgia, which, in his ignorance, he associated with the crocodile of the far East, and the boy was terrified.
"They are going to eat us up!" he gasped, after he had tottered, swayed, and very nearly lost his balance beyond recovery.
"I don't think they'll do anything to us, if weare careful not to run into them," said Ted, reassuringly, though not without some real apprehension of trouble.
But this is precisely what happened. Hubert's desperate struggles to regain his balance caused the log to depart from the course Ted was trying to maintain, and, before it could be prevented, they floated between two motionless alligators, almost touching them, and then the forward end of the log ran aground on the back of a third.
There followed a great stir and splashing. Hubert went overboard with the first shock, and the powerful flirt of a frightened or enraged alligator's tail sent Ted, slightly stunned, into the water three or four feet from the log.
Both boys swam desperately back to their one refuge, conscious of the plunging of the excited amphibians as they did so, and fearing every moment that an arm or a leg would be bitten off. But when they again stood upright on their log, balancing themselves once more with the long sticks to which they had persisted in clinging, they saw with some measure of relief that the nearest of the alligators now visible were some yards distant. In their stupid astonishment or lazy indifference, the creatures had allowed an easy prey to escape them.
With all possible speed, yet cautiously, the boys paddled their log away from the undesirable neighborhood, breathing more freely only after they were out of the pool and well on their way through the sedge toward the "house."
"Maybe they didn't think we were good to eat," said Hubert, wondering, and then joining nervously in Ted's merry laugh.
"I've heard that they eat animals sometimes, but they live on fish mostly," said Ted. "It was lucky, though, that we had the log to get up on."
"Would they have eaten us if we hadn't had it?"
Ted laughed again before he answered:
"I don't think so, but I shouldn't care to risk it a second time. Hunters say alligators don't attack man except in self-defense."
"But I've heard of their catching pigs and even little niggers," persisted Hubert.
"Well," admitted Ted, still smiling, "you never can tell when such creatures may want a change of diet. That place back there—a breeding place, I think—is like one I heard Mr. Hardy speak of. He called it an 'alligator heaven.'"
"Deliver me from an 'alligator heaven,' if that's one," said Hubert, so solemnly that Ted was amused and laughed once more.
Entering shallower water, they dared to step into it and wade toward the little island. Leaving their log safely lodged on the "trembling earth" formation, and having struggled through and over this, they landed on firm but damp ground. The island was circular in form and hardly two hundred yards in diameter. Cassina bushes fringed the shores, the vegetation rising thence to a few tall cypress trees in the center. Everywhere the funereal Spanish moss fluttered in the gentle breeze.
It had now ceased raining, but a dense mist still floated upon the great marsh. The raw atmosphere seemed as cold as the water had been and the boys moved about shivering, bitterly regretting their attempt to cross the flooded wilderness. The wildness and desolation of the scene seemed to be intensified by the presence of two small gray eagles, which screamed in a harsh shrill way as they hovered about a large nest in the top of the tallest tree on the island.
Their weariness and sharp hunger were theonly certain indications of the flight of time, but as the light began to wane the boys realized that they had been on the marsh for hours and had not landed on the island till late in the afternoon. It was now necessary to make some sort of preparation for the night, and that speedily. An attempt to build a fire had failed, the wet matches refusing even to ignite, and as the gun was also wet and the shells soaked, there appeared to be no hope of obtaining even the raw flesh of a bird for supper, supposing they could have eaten it.
Tears appeared in shivering Hubert's eyes and rolled slowly down his cheeks, seeing which Ted smiled and tried hard to make merry with a little jest.
"Now, Hu, we've had enough water for one day without pumping up any more," he said, patting his cousin affectionately on the shoulder.
"Well, you know," said Hubert, trying to smile in response, "I never did have a good grip on my what-you-may-call-'em ducts, and this is pretty tough, as you know. I really am trying hard to stand it and not be a baby. I'm glad we didn't have such a dose as this the first day in the swamp—I'd have boo-hooed sure enough. I'm not quite the baby that I was."
"No, you are not, Hu; you are getting to be quite a man," said Ted gently, and Hubert, struggling hard to sit on the lid of his lachrymal ducts, so to speak, was very grateful.
A few moments later he smilingly announced that he had succeeded in "turning off the water," but he feared that he had spoken too soon when suddenly Ted, moving about, very nearly stepped on a large moccasin and found some difficulty in killing it with his long stick. Hubert suffered from an instinctive horror of snakes and the episode almost upset him.
Ted had heard the slackers describe how they made shift for the night when they had to camp out on a marsh island or on a damp tussock in the flooded forests, and he now proceeded to strip bark off the cypress trees with the aid of the hatchet. This was spread on the ground under quantities of Spanish moss which was to be used as both bed and covering. The moss was damp, water-soaked, in fact; but even so they would be warmer covered with it than if they lay exposed to the currents of raw air.