Perhaps it was a good thing he kept himself on the alert, for while Tom Smith was a woodsman, and might have seen what attracted the attention of the scout-master, there could be no telling. And had it not been discovered, they might have found what Giraffe would call “rougher sledding” later on.
They happened to be in a particularly thick patch of scrub and woodland where Thad felt more than half convinced that if the fugitive had thought to lay any sort of trap the springing of which would give him warning of the coming of enemies he must have chosen this place; when he made a little discovery that caused him to instantly clutch the arm of Tom Smith, and say softly:
“Hold on!”
Others of the party gripped their guns, and looked eagerly around, under the impression that Thad must have sighted a hovering figure back of some tree; and no doubt half expecting to hear the crash of a gun break the silence that hung over the spot. But nothing of the kind came to pass. Instead, Thad drew the guide several steps along, and then pointed to the brush close at their feet.
“Well, what d’ye think of that?” Bumpus remarked, as he pushed forward the better to see; “if he hasn’t put an old rope across the path just to trip us up, and make all the trouble he can.”
Giraffe looked scornfully at the fat scout.
“Think so, do you, Bumpus?” he remarked, with a lofty sense of his own sagacity. “Well, if you happened to trip over that same rope, chances are now you’d hear a gun go off. P’raps the loadmightmiss you, though I don’t see how anything could do that; but all the same, the bang of the gun’d tell Mr. Jasper it was time he took to the woods, and ran like a scared rabbit. So you see what Thad’s shut off by his find.”
“Seems like it took a scout to do the job, and make such an important discovery!” Step Hen hastened to remark, apparently proud of the fact that he too wore that magical khaki uniform.
“But where’s the gun, I don’t see?” demanded Bumpus, who seldom allowed himself to wholly believe things, until he understood all the details, for he could be very practical when he wanted.
“Watch Thad, and you’ll know,” Giraffe told him.
Thad was bending down, and to all appearances examining the stout cord that had been drawn directly across the trail, mostly hidden by the low scrub. It had been arranged by a master-hand at cunning, and was just high enough to make certain that a careless foot would strike against it, bringing about the immediate result that the one who had placed it there contemplated.
Without even touching the cord the young scoutmaster commenced to follow it along, foot by foot. The sheriff’s posse, including Alligator Smith, the swamp guide, stood there and just watched to see what he would do. Somehow all of them seemed to have taken a strange liking for the patrol leader. Perhaps it was his manly bearing that made Thad friends so quickly; while the errand that had brought him down to Dixieland may have had more or less to do with it; for the hearts of these Southern boys and men are always tender toward one who has suffered; and chivalry toward women and girls still abounds in the South as it can be found nowhere else in this broad land of ours.
But then that was an old story with Giraffe and the rest of the fellows; ever since Thad Brewster had come to Cranford and entered into their sports they had been accustomed to seeing him make new and warm friends as though he might be a wizard.
Meanwhile the scout was apparently nearing the spot upon which his attention had been centered. It was only a dozen or so feet away from the trail and seemed to be where three trees grew up in a queer clump, being shoots of a former swamp king among the oaks.
Here Thad paused and bent still lower.
“He’s struck ile!” one of the posse was heard to say to a companion.
“Reckon as haow he hes, Jed,” another went on to remark.
Bumpus stared as best he could, and waited impatiently to see what would be the result of Thad’s search. He held his breath so long, through eagerness, that his face grew furiously red; and one of the posse even moved a little further away from the fat boy, possibly under the vague suspicion that he was about to have a fit; or from some other reason.
“Bully for Thad!” Giraffe was heard to say, a little louder than discretion might have dictated; at least Allan gave him a nudge in the back, which the tall scout understood to mean “less noise, there!” for he cut his exultant ejaculations short, and wilted.
“It’s a sure-enough gun!” admitted Bumpus, giving a sort of whistle as he allowed his breath to flow evenly again; just as you may have heard the hydrant do when there is air in the pipe, and the water has been turned on or off suddenly.
But then all of them had already made sure of that same fact, even if they did not think it necessary to announce it in the same way the fat scout did.
Thad came back to where they were grouped, awaiting him, and holding in his hand the gun he had unfastened from amidst the three saplings, where some one had secured it, with the muzzle pointing straight toward the spot at which the trail was crossed by that concealed cord.
“It was a sure enough man-trap!” Davy remarked, in considerable awe, as he noted that the hammer of the old gun was still drawn back, as though ready to be discharged with the slightest pull.
Bumpus noticed that there still hung from the trigger a foot or so of that cord and from this he judged Thad must have just drawn the blade of his knife gently across the taut line; as the scout-master was very particular to always keep his hunting knife in perfect condition, the edge of the blade was as keen as a razor, and would sever that cord without the slightest influence upon the gun.
“Well, that was a smart dodge, all right!” the Dixie sheriff remarked, admiringly, as Thad handed him the gun, which seemed to be an old musket, such as several of the posse were even then carrying, and which had perhaps played its part during those troublous times many years back, when the yankee horde invaded Southern pastures, and gradually, through force of numbers, drove the gallant Confederates to the wall.
“Of course it was aiming right this way, Thad?” remarked Step Hen.
“Yes, if any one of us had been silly enough to drag that cord with our feet, the gun would have been fired, and whatever it contains must have come this way, with more or less painful results,” the other informed him.
“Huh! looks to me like it’d hold just about a pint of bullets, old nails or anything else that’s calculated to give trouble,” said Davy, as he respectfully touched the rusty old weapon that Jasper must have fetched along especially for the purpose to which it had been put.
“And,” Thad continued, “you can see how he expected it to serve two purposes; for besides standing a chance of wounding some one when it went off, the gun would give him warning, and he could have time to escape. It was a clever trick, and shows us what sort of smart rascal we’re looking up.”
“An I wanter say right heah,” remarked Alligator Smith, frankly; “thet it’s all owin’ tuh them sharp eyes o’ yourn we ain’t riddled afore now by the shot er bullets as mout be in this yer gun; ’case I admits as how I never sot out tuh look to’ any sech contraption in ther grass er brush; an’ chances air I’d gone stumblin’ right acrost, so as tuh draw thet trigger, an’ upset theh fat in theh fire, even if I war lucky enuff tuh ’scape gettin’ plugged myself. Arter this I’m agwine tuh larn more ’bout scouts an’ sech. Seems like they knows ther bizness; an’ even a ole swamp hunter like me kin larn somethin’ frum theh same.”
“Hurrah!” said Giraffe; but he knew Allan was standing close beside him, and not feeling like drawing another stiff dig in the ribs as a reproof, he just whispered the one word, while pretending to clap his hands; for these boys were justly proud of their calling, and could never hear words of praise uttered for scout-craft without a personal sense of satisfaction.
“Well, that’s one game failed, anyway!” Bumpus was heard to say, half to himself, as though in imagination he was thus decreasing the perils that he expected were lying in wait along their course.
“They’ll all fall before us, see if they don’t,” Davy Jones went on to say, as though his confidence had grown by leaps and bounds, and had reached a final stage when he saw Thad nip the plot of the enemy so neatly.
“Sometime I’d just like to take the trouble to draw the load he put in that old musket,” Step Hen told Smithy, who was close to his elbow.
“Whatever good would that do you?” asked the other, who could not understand why any one could allow his curiosity to make him so much unnecessary work; for while Smithy had reformed in many ways, he still “shirked” a little, Thad had often noticed, for he had never been shown the delight ofdoing things.
“Well, don’t you understand that it might give a fellow a certain amount of satisfaction to know what a narrow escape he had?” asked the other. “Suppose now, I was to extract seven bullets, sixteen rusty nails, a couple of marbles, four screws and a few other things I just can’t think of, from that old cannon, wouldn’t the sight of the lot make me gladder than ever that Thad found it out in time; and that we didn’t get that wagon-load of stuff turned in on us, backed by six drams of black powder? Smithy, you ain’t got any idea of being thankful over things. Just however would you be able to keep on talking in that stilted lawyer-like way you’ve got, if a nail had knocked a bunch of teeth out—tell me that, will you?”
“Aw! keep still, there, Step Hen, this ain’t the place for arguments like that. Just wait till we’ve got to the end of the trail, and then some!”
Strange to say it was neither Thad nor Allan who took the trouble to admonish the talkative scout in this fashion, but Giraffe himself. Since he was debarred from givinghisopinion by the proximity of Allan and his ready hand, the tall member of the patrol evidently thought that he could at least find some satisfaction by passing the reproof along; since misery likes company.
But all the same, while Step Hen did relapse into silence after being told so plainly that he had no business to air his views, he took especial pains to notice where Thad laid the old rusty musket down in a clump of brush.
“Huh! reckon I could find that place again, easy,” the boy was telling himself in confidence; “and I will, too, if everything passes off comfy, and we get our man. Guess there ain’t much danger of our missing connections there, with such a bully mob to surround the place, and fellows like our Thad to think up things. I want to just show Smithy what there is in that gun, and s’prise him, that’s all.”
Now that the trail could be followed once more without much danger of another man-trap, Thad and the swamp-guide were again starting out; though the latter before taking a step had made sure to add further warning to what he had already said about every one keeping as still as possible.
Really there was little need of saying that, for it was easy to see from the set looks on all those faces how the men and boys were alive to the occasion, and not likely to risk spoiling the surround by any incautious move, or loud unnecessary talk.
One thing at least favored them a little. This was the breeze, which seemed to be blowing directly in their faces. Thus any sounds they might happen to make would not be carried ahead, as would have been the case should they have been travelingdownthe wind.
This probably came about by sheer accident; but all the same it was noticed by those of the scouts who were woodsmen enough to pay attention to small things; and of course Thad and the swamp-hunter had known of it all along.
The boys presently realized that they must be close upon the broad slough spoken of by Tom Smith, when he declared that the sunken ridge which must be followed was the only way he knew about whereby passage might be effected, so as to reach the higher island wooded beyond; though he had at the same time admitted that Jasper might have some other means for escaping if hard pressed, discovered when, as a boy, he frequently visited this section of the swamp.
“There she is!” muttered Giraffe, and Bumpus, hearing the low words, raised his eyes from the ground, to stare ahead at the prospect facing them.
It did not require any particular knowledge of woodcraft to proclaim that what the elongated scout had remarked was quite true, for the dreadful bog might have no substantial bottom short of a hundred feet, was before them.
It looked bad to Bumpus, stretching away for several hundred yards to where the trees again grew heavily on solid ground. The ooze was deceptive. It had a green scum on the surface in places, as though some verdure had taken root, but in all probability had any one ventured to trust his weight upon such deceptive spots he must have speedily found himself immersed in muck up to his knees, or worse, and unable alone and unaided to ever keep himself from sinking gradually deeper and deeper, until it was over his head.
Bumpus shivered as he looked. It was as though he felt in his very bones that an unkind fate destined him to make the test as to whether the bad name given to this bog were well deserved, or not.
As they stood there on the edge looking out, while the alligator hunter was making sure that he knew exactly where to enter the muck bed, so as to feel out the sunken roadway that wound in zig-zag fashion over to the island, good-natured Bob White felt some one poke him in the side.
Looking down he saw the solemn face of Bumpus there; and there was an expression of almost pitiful appeal in the eyes of the fat scout, such as the Southern boy remembered once noticing in the brown orbs of a deer he had wounded, and which had to be put out of its misery.
But then of course he did not anticipate that Bumpus was going to ask him to do the merciful thing by him, and end his sufferings; though he understood plainly enough that the stout scout was enduring some sort of agony of mind.
“Will you do me a favor, a great favor, Bob,please?” Bumpus whispered, looking quickly around at the same time, as though wishing to make sure that neither Davy nor Giraffe were close enough to overhear what he said.
“To be sure I will, Bumpus,” quickly replied the other; “anything within reason you can count on me doing, suh. I believe in scouts standing by each other.”
“Oh! thank you, Bob; it’s kind of you to say that,” Bumpus went on, as he tried to thrust something into the hand of the other. “Please take this, and if it does happen, pull like everything; because I’m heavy, you know, and chances are I’d sink quicker’n any of the rest of you.”
“But—this is a piece of heavy cord, Bumpus, perhaps the same that was stretched across the trail a little while ago?” exclaimed the astonished Bob.
“That’s right, I was quick to see how I might use it, for scouts are expected to keep their brains moving all the time. You see,” continued Bumpus, confidingly. “I just feel it in my bones that I’ll be the one to miss connections with that crazy old hidden path, and fall slap into the mud, and I’ve got the other end tied under my arms; so in case you hear a splash, be ready to hold tight, Bob. That’s a good fellow!”
When Bob White heard Bumpus talk in this way he took notice of the fact that the stout scout was in deadly earnest in what he said. It was no laughing matter, apparently, because Bumpus had evidently made all sorts of preparations for the expected disaster, besides fastening one end of that cord around his body, and asking his fellow scout to hold the other.
His precious silver-plated bugle which, as the accredited musician of the troop, he always carried along with him, unless otherwise forbidden by Thad, he had now made more secure against possible damage by fastening the same about his neck, so that it dangled between his shoulders. And he was gripping his rifle as though bent on keeping that also out of the awful muck, should the accident he anticipated come to pass; for once let any of that ooze find a way into the barrel, and it would be a most difficult task to get the interior “spic-and-span,” and shiny again, as Bumpus always wished to keep his firearm.
But Bob White did not smile.
He liked the fat boy too well to give him unnecessary pain, though the fact of Bumpus preparing that heavy cord so that he might be saved in time, should he slip from the narrow causeway and sink into the slime, was really comical; and later on would doubtless elicit roars of laughter from unfeeling Giraffe and Davy, when they came to talk matters over, and were free to make as much noise as they felt like.
“That’s all right, Bumpus,” Bob said, reassuringly, as he accepted the cord, and proceeded to wind it several times around his left hand, for he was carrying his gun in his right.
“You’ll do me the favor, then, will you?” questioned the other, with eagerness.
“To be sure I will, suh, and only too gladly,” replied Bob; “but, if so be you happen to know when you’re going, it might be a good thing, I take it, to give me due warning of the same, because a sudden jerk would perhaps pull me over with you; and then, suh, it’d be a case of the blind leading the blind.”
“I will, Bob, depend on it, I’ll try to,” Bumpus assured him. “Course I don’t want to souse in that awful mud, and I’m agoing to try my level best to keep on the straight and narrow road all I can; but if it does happen, it’s always some comfort to know you’ve got an anchor out to windward.”
“Yes, suh, it’s sometimes a good thing to have a string tied to things, so they can be jerked back if the conditions don’t seem favorable. I’ve known fellows who never made a bargain but they had an ‘if’ or a ‘perhaps’ fixed to the same. But nobody could say that of you, Bumpus. Don’t worry about me; I’ll attend to business at the old stand, suh, all right. You won’t go down so quick but that I’ll manage to draw the line taut; and if she holds you’re just bound to come out, either whole or in sections, suh. That’s all.”
Which intelligence could hardly have been very comforting to poor Bumpus; whose face took on a thoughtful look, as though he had begun already to wonder whether the remedy might not be more dreadful than the disease.
But there was no time for more conversation in these whispered tones between the two scouts; because Alligator Smith had apparently found the place for which he was looking, and boldly stepped out from the firm ground.
While his feet went under the surface an inch or so, he seemed to have struck a solid foundation; for he immediately turned, and waved his hand to the posse; and then held up his finger suggestively, as though warning them under no circumstances should they make unnecessary noise.
Perhaps the fox they hoped to find in his hole might be sleeping, and not apt to take the alarm easily; but it was not wise to depend too much upon that chance. The really keen woodsman never underrates the party or animal he may be hunting, but always acts as though he must expect the worst. It is better to be too cautious than to lack in this regard, and ruin well-laid plans.
Pretty soon there was a long line of men and boys making their way along that submerged ledge of solid ground. Thad came immediately after the guide, walking in the footprints of the swamp hunter, if such a thing could be said where the soft ooze instantly settled back as soon as one withdrew his foot. Then others of the scouts, led by the sheriff, trailed along, Bumpus being just behind his good friend Bob White, so no one really noticed that there was a connecting link between the two.
By the time the last member of the big posse had entered the bog, Alligator Smith was almost halfway over; and thus far all had gone smoothly, so that save for a certain amount of soft splashing there had nothing happened to create a disturbance. Bumpus was going strong. He must feel more or less encouraged by the success with which he was following in the wake of Smithy, who evidently felt this thing of soiling his brand new leggings with that black ooze more than any other scout; because Smithy never could get over being particular in his appearance, though he had been cured of being a dude, brushing his hair when in camp, and other silly ways of trying to imagine that certain duties must be performed when roughing it, just the same as when he was at home.
Bumpus kept his eyes glued upon the feet of Smithy, knowing that eternal vigilance was always the price of safety and liberty. If the other manifested signs of wabbling Bumpus was apt to shudder, and stand stock-still until he saw Smithy go on again without taking the anticipated tumble into that quaking muck bed that seemed to just yawn expectantly on either side of the moving line of men and boys.
Some persons declare that when one is anticipating a thing it generally comes about. Others say a “watched kettle never boils;” so you can take your choice. But as events proved, Bumpus’ fears were not without a foundation; for when he was all of two-thirds of the way over the bog he suddenly slipped, and losing his footing, just settled into the ooze like a big balloon might drop down.
Bumpus gave no yelp of alarm, for he had kept schooling himself on this score all along, and made up his mind that if the sacrifice must be carried out he would at least prove himself a credit to the training of Thad, and go down in silence.
Bob White came very near being pulled in after him; but Giraffe who came just behind the Southern boy, succeeded in clutching him in time.
There was poor Bumpus over his knees in the slime, and sinking steadily all the while on account of his great weight. He knew the futility of trying to get out by himself, and that the more he moved about the worse his plight was bound to be; and so he just squatted there like a huge frog, holding his gun up above his head, and looking appealingly toward the chum from whom he felt that he had a right to expect help.
Nor was Bob White slow to get busy on that line. Fortunately it was a new and strong cord that Jasper had used in his man-trap which failed to work because of the vigilance of the scout-master; and when several others had laid hold of the same no doubt they could assist Bumpus to clamber out again.
It was rather difficult to accomplish anything while on such a narrow footing, because in the first place they could not bunch together; and then again there was always a chance that one of the other scouts might also lose his footing, and slide into that soft bed; for the muck was no respector of persons, neither did Bumpus have a monopoly of the same, because there was plenty of room for others.
But by dint of judicious handling, and a sort of swinging pull they managed to start the heavy scout coming.
“Get a move on, and help yourself, can’t you?” fretted Giraffe, upon seeing how Bumpus was just content to let himself be hauled out by main strength.
“Shall I, Bob?” asked the object of all this solicitude, as though recognizing the Southern boy as the one in command, because it had been in his charge he had submitted his case when the prospects looked dubious.
“Yes, it would help some, I take it, suh, if you did make motions like you-all might be a frog swimming in there,” the one appealed to made answer.
And so Bumpus, who had doubtless often watched a frog swimming so gracefully in the water, started to give them his conception of what it was like. Giraffe nearly doubled up with silent laughter, and only for the proximity of Allan might have made more or less of a noise; but he succeeded in restraining his exuberant spirits, and even did some hauling on the faithful cord that did not fail Bumpus in this great emergency.
They got him out presently, and while Bumpus was a sight, with all that black mud clinging to his legs, so that the rest had to keep away from him, Davy had the temerity, instead of giving thanks over the successful rescue of his chum, to go and mutter something that sounded like:
“Anyway, now, he’ll justhaveto throw away that old suit, and the rest of us’ll be able to breathe easy again. Blessings lots of times come along in disguise, my ma says, and this must be one of ’em. And so I’m real glad we had to creep along this slippery ridge after all, because it’s going to make a change in things when we get back to our duffel.”
“Keep quiet, can’t you, Davy!” warned Giraffe, who all the time was chuckling to himself as though he really enjoyed every word he heard the other scout say, because Davy was voicing his own sentiments exactly.
When that suspicious “plunk” had warned them all that some one was in the mire, Thad and the guide had come to a full stop, to wait until the rescue had been effected. While they were strung out in that wavering line, what was the interest of one concerned them all; and there would be little use in a few of them getting safely over the bog if the main body were held up out there; because none of those in the rear could pass by until Bumpus had been saved.
The fat scout gave Bob White many thankful looks, and insisted upon the other retaining hold of that friendly piece of thin rope, because, as often happens, history might choose to repeat, as one good turn deserves another, and he did not like that oozy bed any better after testing its capacity, than he had before his slip-up.
As for that line, Bumpus would treasure it most religiously, as one of his most valued possessions; for had it not saved his life?
The forward march was resumed, with everybody hoping that clumsy Bumpus would be much more careful of his footing now, so that the solid ground might be reached without more trouble.
Nobody was more anxious than the stout boy that such a thing might carry; and quite naturally he exercised all the caution he could muster up in order to keep from doing that sliding trick again.
When finally he reached solid ground, and actually felt something firm under his feet, Bumpus gave a great sigh of thanksgiving and relief. Others did the same, it may as well be confessed.
First of all, Bumpus restored his bugle to its customary place at his side. Then, having deposited his gun on the ground, leaning up against a tree, he next proceeded to coil up that valuable cord, and stow the same away inside his khaki jacket.
“Why don’t you get busy, and scrape some of that mud off?” asked Step Hen, in the ear of the one who had so recently been saved; whereupon Bumpus sat him down deliberately, picked up a stick, and began to reduce the amount of bog which he was carrying on his person; which operation some of the others watched in more or less amusement, particularly Davy, who shook his head, and grinned as he caught the eye of Giraffe, as much as to say:
“Here’s where luck came our way in great big chunks, Giraffe, because, don’t you see, he’s just bound to throw that suit away after getting it in such a horrible mess, for Thad won’t allow him to tote it along, nohow. Our time is near at hand, thank goodness; and I say again we’re lucky; because it’d almost take an earthquake to make such a stubborn mule as Bumpus to change his mind, he’s so sot in his ways.”
The others had better luck than the fat scout; several may have slipped a little on the way over, but no one actually fell in far enough to make a rescue necessary.
By degrees they came ashore, until presently it was seen that every one in the expedition had landed.
The sheriff deemed it a wise piece of precaution to leave a couple of his men at this point to act as a guard. If, as Alligator Smith believed, this was the only means of crossing the fearful muck bed, then, should they have the misfortune to do anything that would start the fugitive to action, he might still be nabbed in the act of trying to get over to the mainland at this point.
And this having been duly attended to, the rest of the posse, together with Alligator Smith and the Boy Scouts, prepared to leave the vicinity of the quaking bog, and start in among the trees with which this queer island, looking like an oasis in the midst of a desert, was pretty well covered.
Every fellow just knew that they must be very close to the place where the man they were hunting had his “hang-out;” and the knowledge caused them to experience a succession of odd little thrills that seemed to chase all over their bodies, as though some one might be pouring ice water down their backs. But at the same time there was a delightful sense of expectancy in the air that caused most of the scouts to feel that the climax to their long journey must now be at hand.
Before they made any sort of a start upon what would probably be the last leg of their hunt, Thad believed it would be only a wise move if he and the sheriff had a little consultation with the man who was guiding them to where he believed the lair of the fugitive thief lay.
Thad had always found that a good understanding in the start was more than half the battle. It often prevented serious complications from arising, and mistakes being committed that were apt to prove fatal to success.
Accordingly he spoke to Alligator Smith along that line.
“A little hold-up right here and now won’t interfere with our hopes of success, will it, Tom Smith?” was the way he put it.
“Reckon as how it ain’t calkerlated tuh do theh same, suh,” came the reply; for the alligator-skin collector had learned to have considerable respect for this thoughtful and resourceful lad who was serving as scout-master in the absence of Doctor Philander Hobbs, the real head of the troop.
“Wait a little bit then, till I get the sheriff alongside,” added Thad. “I think we ought to have an understanding, so there’ll be no need of much whispering later on, when it might upset our calculations to indulge that way.”
“Seems like yuh mout be k’rect thar, son,” admitted the other, readily, and possibly wondering how it was that this boy seemed to think of everything.
The sheriff quickly joined them when he saw that something was in the wind. He too had been more or less impressed by the quiet sense of ability shown by this Northern lad, who while serving as a leader among his fellows did not attempt any of the swagger that many lads could not help displaying.
“Before we start off again, Mr. Sheriff, we ought to find out a little more of this business, it seems to me,” Thad began; “and especially about the lay of the land; what sort of a shack this is; and how we’d better creep up on the same so as to take the man by surprise, and at the same time not give him any chance to endanger the life of the little girl; because if he’s the sort of rascal they say, he might be small enough to hold her up as a sort of shield from our guns, and threaten all sorts of terrible things unless we went away and left him alone.”
“I’ve known that same to be done, suh,” agreed the official, nodding his head as though he agreed with what Thad said. “And let me say that I understand jest how ye must feel ’bout it. We’ve butted in to this game, an’ it’s on’y right an’ proper as how we ought to try an’ suit our purposes to yourn. So, whatever ye reckon on as agreeable, suh, ye’ll find us atryin’ to meet up with ye.”
Thad gave him a grateful look; for, truth to tell it was the fear lest some unexpected and unprepared-for peril threaten the girl before they could capture the desperate man, that had been worrying him.
He knew that doubtless among the members of this hastily summoned sheriff’s posse there must be a number of hotheads, men or boys who were so bent on accomplishing something that would serve the ends of justice that, given half a chance and they would spring forward, risking their lives recklessly in the hope of being selected by fate as the one to pull the rascal down.
Many a brilliant plan, Thad knew, had been spoiled by just such well meaning but thoughtless individuals. And he was trying to figure it out how the chances for having such a blunder occur might be greatly reduced, if not cut out altogether.
In fact, he had it in his mind that since the posse now virtually controlled the avenue of escape from the island, it might be well for the guide and himself, say, to leave the others near by, and creeping along, try to find out what Jasper might be doing.
And deep down in his heart Thad possibly was hoping that if this were undertaken a glorious chance might arise whereby he could manage to get in communication with the girl, and even stand by to protect her while Tom Smith went for the rest; or else even coax her to flee with him.
The very thought gave Thad a thrill of strange delight; now that the crisis was so very near, and he must soon learn the truth, he had great difficulty in repressing his eagerness, and displaying his customary caution, when his heart was urging him to more hasty action.
“Why,” said the swamp hunter, as he screwed up his forehead in a way he had of doing when trying to “cudgel his brains,” as the saying is, “’bout all I remembers o’ thet shack she war on’y made up outen slabs an’ ther like; an’ seems tuh me like theh w’ar an tear o’ years’d like as not make it look sick. But then, mebbe as how this heah Jasper he done tote some more stuff acrost, an’ patched theh cabin up so hit’d shed water like.”
“Does it lie among the trees?” asked Thad
“It sure does, suh,” replied the other.
“How long would it take us to get there from here?” the boy went on to inquire.
“If so be we started tuh walk reg’lar-like, we’d be thar in three minutes I done reckon,” answered Tom Smith.
“So close as that,” muttered the sheriff; “I hope then, none of my posse happens to let out a bark or a sneeze; seems like that’d be heard if a feller happened to be awake an’ listenin’ like.”
On his part Thad was more concerned about Bumpus than any of the others; because in the past on more occasions than one the fat scout had, as Giraffe expressed it, “knocked the fat into the fire,” by some unexpected act. Which explained in part why the scout-master was wild to accomplish something looking to the rescue of the little girl before any such accident could occur.
Why, it had come to such a pass among the scouts that if a fellow wanted to be very particular about some group picture he hoped to snap off, he kept his eye severely on Bumpus all the while; for if he could make sure that the clumsy member of the patrol were all right, he had little fear about the rest. Bumpus had ruined many a picture by some stumble, or upheaval that was not gratifying to the artist.
“I’m going to ask a favor of you, Mr. Sheriff,” said Thad, suddenly, as he leaned forward, the better to speak in the other’s ear.
“Then spit her out, son,” replied the officer, though he looked rather surprised, and somewhat disappointed, just as if he suspected along what lines this request on the part of the scout might lie; “as I said before, this heah is more your game than it is ourn, an’ I’m willin’ to let ye have the right o’ way.”
“Would you care very much if Tom Smith and myself crept on ahead, to see how the ground lay?” asked Thad, determined to take advantage of the sheriff’s kindness while the other was in a mood to accommodate him.
The officer glanced toward the guide.
“Would you think that to be a good play, Tom?” he asked; “’case if ye do, I ain’t got a wo’d to say agin the same. This youngster beats my time, an’ I’m right glad I run up ag’inst him. Neveh did have much use fo’ Yankees sense they run off my ole man’s slaves yeahs an’ yeahs ago, leavin’ the fambly po’ as church mice; but if they raise his breed up thar, I’ve got to change my ideas, that’s all. How about that move, Tom Smith: be ye of theh same mind as him.”
Now, possibly the guide had not up to then even considered such a move; but he was quick to see the wisdom of it, since Thad had brought the matter up. He was also too shrewd an old chap to disclose his ignorance; and accordingly he made out that he had himself been considering such benefits as might come to them from a spying expedition, but through a sense of modesty had refrained from mentioning it thus far.
“Wanted tuh say sumpin like thet myself, Shurff, but didn’t know jest how yuh mout take hit,” he observed, complacently; “but sense Thad, he opens the ijee, sot me down as favorin’ theh same.”
“Oh! all right then, just as you figger, son,” the sheriff went on to say, turning once more to the young scout-master; “but take us along as fur as ye dar, Smith; and fix it with me so as how if ye need help suddent-like we’ll know it’s time to git busy.”
Thad felt almost like shaking the hand of the sheriff again and again, he was so delighted with the readiness with which the other had fallen in with his scheme.
Under similar conditions there were many pigheaded officials, so inflated with a sense of their own importance, that nothing could have induced them to yield one atom of their authority in a case like this. They would have insisted on taking the lead, and running things as they pleased, no matter if failure resulted through their recklessness.
“We’ll give a loud whistle if we get in any trouble, and want you to rush up with the whole posse,” he said, quickly, fearing that unless he clinched the bargain immediately the sheriff might repent himself of having made it.
“No need of tellin’ ye to be keerful, son,” continued the other, as Thad and the old swamp guide prepared to leave the party; “because I reckons as how ye jest couldn’t be anything else if ye tried. Yes, this heah scout business hes cotchcd my fancy right smart, an’ I ’spect to look into the same later on. Good luck, Thad, and heah’s wishin’ she may turn out to be all ye hopes fo’!”
That told the boy the sheriff had a good heart, even if his business was that of hunting desperate men, and his face had what would appear to be a hard look.
None of the other scouts took occasion to say a single word, because they had not been asked to share in the consultation. But when they saw Thad and Alligator Smith preparing to move on ahead, a short time later, leaving the rest of the posse in hiding, they could easily guess—all but Bumpus perhaps, and he afterwards got his information from Bob White in the lowest of whispers—what lured the pair forward.
So they simply took it out in waving their hands to Thad when he turned his head to look back; as though in this mute fashion they might waft after him their very best wishes for success.
After which the boys settled down to count the minutes, which would of course drag as though each one were weighted with lead; hoping that at any time they might hear the welcome “cooee,” or whistle that had come to be known among them as a signal that their presence was needed in hot haste.
And it need hardly be stated that every fellow belonging to the Silver Fox Patrol held himself in readiness to make the utmost speed in case such a call came from their leader.
So the utmost silence reigned over that island oasis amidst the great quaking bog; now and then some bird would give utterance to a caw or a croak; but beyond this not a sound could be heard, as they crouched there, wishing it would come to an end, and something in the way of excitement follow.
Action must now take the place of words, with Thad.
From the moment that he separated from his chums, and started off on this scout in company with the swamp guide, he would have little or no opportunity to exchange confidences with any one.
It suited his mood exactly, because he was wishing to do, rather than plan; and gladly welcomed the opportunity to accomplish something.
He quickly discovered that Alligator Smith had changed his course considerably, and could guess the reason for this. The other judged it best that they try and come up on the concealed shack where the fugitive was in all likelihood hidden, from the other side. And as Tom Smith had been here before, he undoubtedly must know what he was about.
Being quite content to take things as he found them, Thad did not even try to ask a single question, which he might have done by placing his lips close to the other’s ear.
When the hunter got down, and wriggled along past some spot that was more open than usual, Thad followed suit; and it was fortunate that he knew as much concerning the ways of the tracker as he did, and could imitate him to the life.
After a little while he saw Smith making motions as though to call his attention to something ahead. This caused Thad to find an opening in the brush that shielded them; and the first thing he saw was what appeared to be a primitive shelter made of slabs and branches, though capable of shedding rain, no doubt.
In front of this a small fire was burning, though throwing up very little smoke, as the man had been careful to select such wood as would not give off the black oozy results that come from Southern pine.