Darkness had fallen when the Pony Rider Boys party finally had picked their way through the outer edge of the jungle, and, despite the darkness, had continued on through the tropical growth, guided unerringly by Billy Lilly to the site he had chosen for their camp.
"Billy must belong to the owl family," was Tad Butler's comment as their guide rode confidently ahead, calling back directions to them.
Behind Lilly rode another and not unimportant member of the party. This was Ichabod. Ichabod was of the color of the night, black. He had been recommended by Major Clowney as a man who would be useful to them. Ichabod was as solemn and dignified as an African tribal chief. In fact, he was an excellent understudy for Stacy Brown when the latter was in his most dignified mood.
Ichabod could cook, could make and break camp and, what was almost as useful, he could handle the hunting dogs, and knew the canebrake fairly well, but Ichabod was afraid of snakes; that was his worst failing. One afraid of snakes had better keep out of the canebrake. The dozen hunting dogs that Lilly had brought with him were in charge of the colored man, who had handled them before and whom the dogs knew and liked.
"File left. Look out that you don't get into the water," called the guide. "Here we are. Make camp."
"I will go cut the firewood," said Tad.
"No, no," objected the guide. "I was speaking to Ichabod. You all remain on your horses until we get the fire going and I have beaten up the camp site."
"Why so?" questioned Butler.
"On account of the reptiles."
"Oh, fudge!" grunted Tad. The other boys laughed and slipped from their saddles.
"I guess you don't know my boys," objected the Professor, who, not to be outdone, descended from his saddle.
"As you wish. But remember, I am responsible for these young men," answered Billy.
"We are responsible for ourselves, sir, and we are not exactly tenderfeet, Mr. Lilly," said Tad. "If you will show me some firewood trees I will do as I suggested, get wood for the campfire."
"Leave that to me. You will have plenty of opportunity to work after we get settled to our trails. You will break your neck if you go to floundering about over the cypress knees."
The boys did not know what was meant by "cypress knees," and at that moment there were other matters to occupy their minds, so they did not ask. The boys began working away at their packs, loosening the cinches, piling the packs on the ground in an orderly manner born of long experience in the woods. They did not need a light to do this work. In fact, they could just as easily have pitched camp in the darkness as in the light. In this instance they did not do so, knowing that Lilly had definite plans as to where and how the camp should be made.
They soon heard the sound of the guide's axe. Ichabod was humming to himself, the dogs were barking and the horses neighing, while the Pony Rider Boys were shouting jokes at one another.
"Where is that fat boy?" called Rector, not having heard Chunky's voice during the last few minutes.
"I don't know. Stacy!" called the Professor.
Tad struck a match and holding it above his head glanced keenly about him. The light revealed Chunky sitting with his back against a tree, his head tilted back, mouth wide open, sound asleep. Tad had the fat boy by the collar instantly.
"Here, here! Whatcher want?" demanded Stacy rebelliously as he was roughly jerked to his feet.
"Don't you know better than to lie down in a place like this?" demanded Tad.
"Why not?"
"You don't know what there may be about here. Didn't you hear the guide say there were reptiles here?"
"Re—reptiles?"
"Yes."
"Oh-h-h, wow!"
"If you must sleep, try it standing up. Get on your horse and take a nap. That will be safer," advised Butler.
"I—I guess I don't want to go to sleep," stammered Stacy.
"I thought not. Here is some punk, if you want it, Mr. Lilly."
"How do you chance to have punk?"
"Oh, I frequently find it useful, especially in wet weather," answered Tad.
"I have some of the same in my kit, but it isn't available just now. There, that's better," nodded Billy.
A little crackling flame had leaped up flinging flickering shadows over the scene. The dogs were sitting about on their haunches regarding the proceedings expectantly, knowing that supper time would soon be at hand.
"Where shall we pitch your tent, Mr. Lilly?" asked Tad.
"I will take care of that. You may pitch your own if you wish. You know how and where better than I can tell you."
Tad did. He laid out the guide's tent so that the opening would be towards the fire, placing it as close to the fire as possible, almost too close it seemed.
"Why so close?" questioned Lilly, tugging at his long moustache.
"To catch some of the smoke from the campfire," replied Butler.
"For what?"
"To drive away mosquitoes. I hear there are a few here."
"You'll do," declared Lilly with an emphatic nod. "I guess youhavebeen in the woods before."
The tents were arranged in a semicircle close about the fire that was now blazing higher and higher.
"Is there any danger of firing the forest here, Mr. Lilly?" asked Butler.
"No, not here. Everything is too damp. All this part of the forest is really a swamp. Wherever you find the cypress you will find moist ground."
"But where is the canebrake?" questioned Ned.
"On the ridges, the higher ground."
"Near here?"
"Within a few paces," answered the guide. "I will fetch some of it in to show you after we have had our supper. I guess you boys must be hungry, eh?"
"Hungry?" cried Stacy. "No, just empty, that's all."
Ichabod was already at work getting the supper, and tempting odors filled the air, with Stacy Brown squatting down with the dogs, greedily watching the preparations for the evening meal. While this was being done, Lilly was trampling down the brush, slashing the thorn bushes with his long bush knife, clearing away, so far as possible, all hiding places for trouble-hunting reptiles.
Smoking hot waffles were served to the hungry boys for supper. The voice of the fat boy under the influence of the waffles soon was stilled, his cheeks were puffed out and his eyes were rolling expressively. Chunky was very near to perfect happiness.
"The bayou is just back of the tents," warned Lilly. "Be careful that none of you falls into the water in the darkness. I should not advise much roaming about in the night until after you have become accustomed to this forest. You will find it far different from any you have ever visited before."
"I have observed as much," nodded the Professor. "But what are those peculiar formations that I see all about us?"
"Yes, I was wondering about them," said Tad.
"You mean the cypress knees?"
"Those long, crab-like formations standing up from the ground three or four feet," said the Professor.
"They are the cypress knees. In reality they are a sort of root of the tree itself. They make great hiding places for all sorts of reptiles and small animals, and they are the finest obstacles in the world to fall over."
"I should think the horses would break their legs over them," said Tad.
"A horse unfamiliar with travel in the swamp would do so. But you will find your animals very wise. They know the game down here, though up in the Rockies they undoubtedly would break their own necks and those of their riders as well."
"Every man and beast to his trade," observed the Professor reflectively.
Billy Lilly agreed with a long nod.
"Ichabod, bring in an armful of cane so the gentlemen may see it," he directed.
The sticks that Ichabod fetched resembled bamboo more than anything the boys ever had seen. These canes they found to be hollow, having no pith, being divided on the inside every few inches into sections.
"As I have already said," continued the guide, "the canebrake stretches along slight rises of ground for miles and miles, forming a very striking feature. The canes stand so thickly that they crowd out other growths and make fine hiding places for wild animals and reptiles. They stand in what might be called ranks, each but a few inches from its companion, extending to a height of fifteen or twenty feet, straight and tall."
"They should make fine fishpoles," said Tad.
"They do. They are used for that purpose. The leaves commence about two-thirds the height of the plant, and the peculiar feature of the leaves is that they seem to grow right out of the stalk."
"The cypress trees appear to be very tall here," said Professor Zepplin.
"Yes, they are. They are said to be rivaled in size and height only by some of the red gums and white oaks. In towering majesty they are really unsurpassed by any tree in the eastern forests. The redwoods of the Sierras, of course, can't be beaten by anything else in this country. There are thousands of acres of cypress and cane down here, and for a place in which to get lost the canebrake has no equal. You don't want to get lost in this forest, young gentlemen."
"We don't intend to," answered Rector.
"If we did it would not be the first time that we have lost our way," laughed Tad.
"Yes, Tad and I got lost up in the Maine woods. I never had so much fun in my life," piped Stacy. "But then there weren't any creeping things up there. I guess I'll go to bed. I'm sleepy."
"It is time we all turned in," agreed the Professor.
But there was not much sleep for the Pony Rider Boys for a long time. The unfamiliar noises of this suffocating swamp, the buzzing of the mosquitoes fighting to get into the tents, but driven back by the smoke, kept sleep away also, except in the case of Stacy Brown who began snoring almost as soon as he touched his bed.
A weird hooting and yelling that seemed to come from every direction at once brought the boys to a sitting posture about an hour after they had turned in.
"Good gracious, what's that?" demanded Ned.
"I don't know," answered Tad. "It isn't like anything I ever heard. I guess it must be some kind of wild animal."
"Those are barred owls," called the guide from the adjoining tent. "I thought their racket would wake you boys up. But you will get used to them."
"Do they howl all night?" asked Tad.
"Yes, usually, and sometimes in the day as well."
"I see our finish so far as sleep is concerned. But I am going to sleep just the same," growled Chunky.
Late in the night the campers succeeded in getting to sleep. The fire died down and the mosquitoes at last reached their victims. Stacy was the first to be awakened by the pests. He slapped and growled, and growled and slapped; then after a time he got up quietly, piling the bundle of cane on the fire, and placing heavier wood on top of that. Then, well satisfied with having done his duty, the fat boy went back to bed. But Stacy had laid the foundation for a lot of trouble that would arouse the entire camp ere many more minutes had passed.
The trouble came with a bang, with a report that sounded as if the camp had been blown up, accompanied by the yells of the boys as fire and burning sticks were hurled into the little tents.
"We've blown out a fuse!" yelled Tad.
"Shut off the current!" cried Ned Rector.
"I'm shot, I'm shot!" howled the fat boy, leaping out into the open, as had Rector and Walter. "Help! Help!"
"Get back!" shouted Tad. "Don't go out there barefooted. Don't—"
Bang! Bang! Bang!The explosions became so rapid that the boys could not have counted them had they desired to do so.
A dull red glow showed in two of the tents.
"We are on fire!" yelled Butler. "Use your blankets. Stamp it out!"
Tad did not take his own advice not to step out in bare feet. He sped swiftly to his pony, and, grabbing a heavy blanket, raced back and into his own tent where, by this time, the flames had started up briskly. Throwing the blanket on the flames, Tad trod up and down, dancing a jig as he sought to beat out the flames. His quick work smothered them in short order, but at the end the boy's feet were swollen and blistered.
The guide had not been idle all this time; he had used the same tactics as had Tad, assisted by Rector, while Stacy Brown was dancing up and down yelling "Fire!" at the top of his voice.
"Stop calling for the firemen and go to work," ordered Tad. "The firemen can't hear you."
"They would be deaf if they couldn't," answered Ned from the adjoining tent. "What do you think you are yelling about, anyway?"
"Fire, fire!"
"You are slower than cream on a cold day," laughed Tad. "The fire is out."
"Then if there's nothing else to do will someone please tell me what blew up?" asked Ned.
"That is what I should like to know," nodded Tad.
"Why, the campfire blew up," Stacy informed them.
"We know that, but what caused it?"
"I—I don't know unless you fellows threw in some cartridges," replied Chunky.
"Cartridges!" exploded Ned. "Don't you think we have better use for our ammunition?"
"Guide, what is the meaning of this?" questioned the Professor.
"We will find out. I am somewhat curious myself. Ah!"
"What have you found?" asked Tad, springing into the tent where Lilly was pawing over some sticks that had fallen inside.
Lilly handed a stick of cane to Tad, who observed that the stalk had been blown out as if from an interior explosion.
"I don't understand, Mr. Lilly."
"Some of that cane got in the fire and blew up."
"Why, I never heard of such a thing," wondered Tad.
"Yes, it is quite common. This stuff is very combustible when dry. When in that condition, and the hot air is confined in the hollow sections, there is sure to be an explosion and loud one, too. That is what happened here tonight."
"Did you put cane on the fire, Mr. Lilly?"
"No, I didn't. Ichabod, did you?"
"No, sah, Ah doan' put no cane on dat fiah, sah. Ah reckons Ah know'd bettah dan to do a thing like dat, sah. Ah suah does."
"Hm-m-m!" mused the guide reflectively. "Any of you boys put cane on the fire?"
No one answered. Tad shot a keen glance at Stacy who was standing at the opening of his tent.
"Well, what have you to say for yourself, young man?" demanded Tad.
"I? Nothing," answered the fat boy.
"That was a nice trick to play on us when we were sleeping so soundly, now wasn't it?" demanded Tad.
"I—I didn't know the stuff would go off like a gun. I—I—"
"We might have known who did it," chuckled Rector.
"I am glad you admit it, Stacy," said Tad with a grin. "Better to make a clean breast right at the beginning. You know we are sure to find you out, no matter how cute you may think you are."
"I—I didn't do anything."
"No, you didn't do anything. You merely put some cane on the fire so it would explode and give us a scare. You nearly burned up the outfit."
"Stacy, did you do this?" demanded the Professor sternly.
"I—I guess I did."
"Why?"
"Well, you see, I was awakened by those villainous mosquitoes, so I got up, went outside, and put some wood on the fire—that's all I did."
"Well, what then?" urged the Professor.
"Then the whole business went off."
"He did not know the cane would explode," spoke up the guide, who had been tugging at his moustache while listening and regarding Stacy narrowly.
"No, no, that's right; I didn't know. How should I know that the stuff was loaded? Is this country full of stuff like that that will blow up if you look crosswise at it?"
"The cane always will explode when subjected to sufficient heat," replied the guide.
"First time I ever knew that trees would blow up. I—I guess this isn't much of a place to go around with matches in your pocket. Wha—what's that?" stammered the fat boy in a scared tone.
"Waugh, waugh, waugh."
The other boys now took heed. They too were wondering what the strange new sound might mean, and glanced apprehensively at Billy Lilly for the answer. The guide was still tugging at his moustache, grinning behind his hand.
"Waugh, waugh, waugh, waugh!"
This time the sound seemed nearer. The dogs were growling, some straining at their leashes, a dark ridge showing along the back of each.
"The dogs have their rough up. Something is around here. I am going to find out what it is for myself," declared Tad Butler, slipping on his boots and snatching up a rifle.
"Where are you going?" asked the guide.
"I am going to investigate, that's all. You may know what that noise is, but I don't. It may be a bear for all we know."
Tad slipped out back of the tent. There followed a sharp flash, and a crash, then a series of wild "waugh, waugh, waugh, waughs," a great scurrying and floundering in the bushes.
"Ha, ha! Missed him, didn't you?" shouted the guide.
"I did not," answered the Pony Rider Boy calmly. Then the listeners heard Tad utter a groan of disgust. Billy Lilly slapped his thighs and laughed loudly.
"That's a good joke on the old scout, eh? That's certainly a good one. Well, what did you get?"
Tad walked in and shoved his gun into his tent.
"You knew what it was all the time, didn't you, Mr. Lilly?"
"Surely I knew. You didn't think I had been in these brakes all these years without knowing all about them, did you?"
"Wha—what did you shoot, Tad?" stammered Stacy.
"What did I shoot? Gentlemen, I shot a pig," answered Butler in a tone of disgust. "Pork! I am a rank tenderfoot. Stacy, please kick me."
"I—I can't. I'm in my stocking feet. Oh, I wish I had my boots on. I'll never get another opportunity like this," wailed the fat boy in mock sorrow.
This raised another laugh. Lilly forgot to tug at his tawny moustache and straightening back against a tree opened his mouth and uttered a loud "Haw, haw, haw."
"You laugh like a burro I knew down in New Mexico," observed Stacy, eyeing the guide narrowly, ready to run in case Lilly should take exception to his remark.
"Now, if you boys want any sleep, suppose we turn in again," suggested Lilly.
"I am going to feed the campfire first," answered Tad. "I don't propose to leave that to Master Stacy. Next time he will blow up the outfit."
"No, I reckon we had better set a watch over him. He's worse'n the mosquitoes," declared Billy.
"Hey, Tad!"
"Yes, what is it?" asked Tad Butler, wide awake in an instant in response to Stacy's quiet call.
"What's that roaring?"
"Rain, you silly."
"Oh, is that all?"
"Yes, what did you think it was?"
"I—I thought it was a tornado," answered the fat boy sleepily. "Goodness, it is coming down, at that!"
"I should say it is. At this rate we'll all get wet feet."
"We're lucky if we don't get more than our feet wet," returned Chunky. "I'm sleepy." In the next breath Stacy was snoring.
Tad lay quiet, watching the rain drown out the campfire that was now steaming and throwing off great clouds of fog. Soon there would be nothing left of their big campfire but the blackened, ill-smelling embers. The others evidently had not been awakened by the rain, or, if they had, they had not aroused themselves to discuss it as had Stacy and Tad. Little by little Tad dropped off, but it seemed as if he had no more than closed his eyes when he was awakened by the voice of Ichabod.
"Hey, Boss, Ah reckon, sah, you'd bettah pull in youah feet, sah. They's in de wet, sah."
Tad's feet, which had somehow got thrust out under the side of the tent, were in a puddle of water more than ankle deep. But so warm was the water and so soundly had he slept that the boy was wholly unconscious of his condition. Tad found, upon drawing in his feet, that they were not any too clean either. The black muck of the forest had smeared them.
"Have you any clean water, Ichabod?" he asked.
"Yes, sah. Ah done kotched a bucket full ob de rain. Dat am clean, sah."
"Thank you," said Tad, proceeding to scrub his feet. "I am almost as much of a sleepy-head as Stacy. No, I don't know enough to get the whole of me in out of the rain. What if a snake had chanced along and discovered my feet out there?"
Tad could not repress a shiver at the thought. After scrubbing himself and putting on his stockings and boots the lad, still in his pajamas, stepped to the door of the tent. In his amazement at finding his feet outdoors he had neglected to take note of the state of the weather. The rain was still falling in torrents.
Tad judged from the faint light that day had only just dawned. From where he sat he could see the fog rising from the swamp. He could smell it, too, that fresh odor of wet vegetation, always so marked on the low lands.
Tad rubbed his eyes and looked again. Their camp was pitched on a very slight rise of ground, and to his amazement the camp now occupied a small island, all about it a lake of muddy water. The boy wondered, for the moment, if the Mississippi had overflowed and drowned out the jungle, but upon second thought he understood that the heavy rain was responsible for the flood. The ground was so saturated with moisture that it could hold no more.
From the water rose the knees of the cypress trees, like giant crabs rearing their bodies to get free of the water—knees twisted and gnarled, assuming all sorts of fantastic shapes. One could imagine that they were dragons and centipedes, while one formation looked like a camel kneeling. From beneath one of these knees the boy saw a dark spot wriggling through the water. Tad saw that it was a snake, but what kind he did not know.
Stepping back into his tent, he picked up his rifle, then returning to the door, scanned the water keenly.
"There he is. I see him." The lad raised his weapon, took careful aim at the black speck swaying from side to side as the reptile swam hastily away. Tad pulled the trigger.
The report of his rifle sounded to him like the firing of an eight-pounder cannon. When the smoke cleared away there was no sign of the black wriggling head. But on the other hand there was an uproar in the tents. The Pony Rider Boys, awake on the instant, leaped out into the open, in most instances splashing into the water up to their ankles, and as quickly leaping back into their tents, uttering yells.
Stacy Brown was not so fortunate. When he landed outside his tent he stepped on a sharp stub and in trying to recover himself, fell face down in the water with a loud splash. He scrambled up, choking and sputtering.
"Oh, wow!" howled the fat boy.
Chunky's face was streaked with black muck and his pajamas looked as if they had been dyed black.
"Oh, wow! Somebody pushed me! You did it on purpose."
"Oh, keep still," rebuked Ned. "Don't you see what has happened?"
"We've moved. Why didn't you wake me up before you moved the camp? What lake is this?"
"You evidently haven't got your eyes open yet, Chunky," answered Tad with a laugh. "Don't you see, we are marooned?"
"Why, so we are," cried Ned Rector.
"Surrounded by water?" exclaimed the Professor.
"Yes, that's the definition of an island," nodded Ned. "Entirely surrounded by water."
"But—but, who shot? I heard a gun go off," insisted Walter.
"I did," answered Tad.
"What were you shooting at?" questioned the guide, who, having pulled on his boots, had splashed out in front of the camp.
"I was trying my skill on something floating in the water over yonder."
"Funny time of day to be shooting at things," grumbled Ned.
"Did you hit the mark?" asked the guide, surmising that Tad had shot at a snake.
Butler nodded, and went back to put his rifle where it would keep dry.
"What are we going to do for firewood?" asked the Professor apprehensively.
"I have some dry wood in my tent," answered the guide.
"Oh, you have? So have I," grinned Tad, whereat Lilly tugged some more at his tawny moustache.
"They have got to wake up in the morning to get ahead of you, haven't they?" he nodded.
"I don't know. I am not so sure of that. If you had seen me when Ichabod awakened me, you wouldn't think so," replied Tad with a sheepish grin.
"What was it?" asked Ned.
"My feet were outdoors in the water, while the rest of me was inside."
"Ho, ho," jeered Chunky, poking his streaked face from his tent opening for an instant. "Lucky none of those savage pigs was about at that time or you might have lost half a pound or so of toes."
Chunky dodged back to avoid being hit by a handful of black muck that Ned shied at him, and which spattered over the front of the tent.
"You will have to clean that off," rebuked Tad.
"We will make Chunky do that. He was to blame for it," declared Ned.
"You will have a fine time making him clean the mud from the tent. By the way, what has become of my pig?" questioned Tad.
Lilly swung a hand in the direction of the bayou, a narrow channel now unrecognizable because of the water that covered the ground on either shore. Tad nodded his understanding of the gesture. Some of the reptiles there had made away with the dead pig.
"I was going to have that wild pig for my own breakfast," said the boy reflectively.
"You must have good teeth," smiled Lilly. "Those wild ones are tough as boot leather. We will have some bear meat one of these days."
"That's nothing," answered Ned. "We have had lots of that on our trips."
"How about venison?"
"That always is a luxury," smiled Tad. "Are there deer here?"
"Yes, but you will find shooting them in the brake is not the same as letting go at them in comparatively open woods. Here, it is a case of shoot quickly or miss your game."
"We can shoot quickly, but the next question is, can we hit?" laughed Tad.
"That's the mighty question," agreed Lilly. "If you boys can shoot as well as you ride and do other things, I reckon there isn't a deer in the brake that could get away from you."
"I guess I will practise on those horrible owls," said Ned.
"By the way, are they all drowned out?" asked Tad.
"Oh, no. They are here. If you want to see one, look up in that cypress yonder," answered the guide, pointing. "You will see what birds of prey they are. They are the worst in the woods, and the noisiest," added Lilly.
Tad and Ned looked. High up on a swaying limb was perched one of the long-beaked barred owls. The bird was having a desperate battle with something. At first the youngsters were at a loss to understand what that something was.
"It is a snake!" cried Tad.
"That's what it is. You have guessed right," nodded Lilly.
The boys watched with fascinated gaze this battle high in the air.
"What kind of snake is it?" questioned Ned in an awed tone.
"I reckon I don't know. Ichabod, what is that snake the owl has up there?"
"Ah doan' know, sah. Ah reckon it am jest snake."
"That is as near as a nigger can get to a direct answer," snorted Lilly.
"He doesn't know. That was what he was trying to tell us," said Tad.
Preparations for breakfast were well along by this time, though it was with difficulty that they had kept the fire up sufficiently to do the cooking. The rain was still beating down in torrents and a heavy mist hung over the jungle, a mist that would not be dispelled until the sun had come out and licked up the surplus water in the great swamp.
To the left and rear of the camp, though they could hardly make out the shore lines now, lay a small lake. Tensas it was called. The waters were always foul and muddy, and alive underneath the surface, though the boys could only surmise this. They had observed no signs of life on the surface, but then they had had little opportunity to observe much of anything except the rain.
On beyond the camp they were now able to make out faintly the straight stems of the canebrake that stood row upon row in straight lines, as if they had been arranged by human hands on the lines run out by engineers.
Afterward the lads sat down to breakfast, which, of course, was eaten inside the tents. The boys now wanted to know what was to be done about their situation.
"Nothing at present," answered Mr. Lilly. "The water will not rise much more. You see it is running off in a pretty swift current already. Of course the water wouldn't interfere much, but the going would be sloppy. You wouldn't enjoy it."
"Is there water in the canebrake?" asked Tad.
"Oh, no. The cane is on higher ground, as I have already told you. There is one thing to be thankful for—the rain drives away the mosquitoes," smiled Lilly.
"Yes, but I dread to think what they will do when the rain stops and the sun comes out," answered Tad.
Everyone was wet. The rain had found its way through the little tents, and a constant drip, drip, drip was heard above the roaring of the deluge on the roofs. The interiors of the tents were steaming; the heat was greater than before the rain. The tents smelled stuffy, but the boys were good-natured. No one except Stacy uttered complaint. Being used to Stacy's growls, they gave no heed to him.
Later in the day the boys wrapped themselves in their rubber blankets and went to sleep.
For three full days did this state of affairs exist. Then the skies cleared as suddenly as they had become overcast. A burning sun blazed down, and the heavy mists rose in clouds. One felt that Nature was pluming herself after her long bath. Black squirrels chattered in the tops of the tall cypress, thrushes broke out into an incessant clucking, mockingbirds and finches burst into song, above which was heard the twitterings of thousands of sparrows.
One could not believe that he was in a forest so full of perils, with these sweet songs in his ears, the fresh odors of luxuriant vegetation in his nostrils. It did not seem possible that the cane just ahead of them was the haunt of savage beasts, that the little lakes and bayous were alive with alligators, savage garfish and monstrous snapping turtles, heavy as a man; that thick-bodied moccasin snakes, foul and dangerous, lurked near the shores, while further back in the forests lay copperheads and rattlers in great numbers.
This was the country into which the Pony Rider Boys had come in search of new experiences and thrills, and they were destined to have their full share of these ere they had finished their journey and reached the outer world again.
It was wholly due to the foresight of Billy Lilly that the camp of the Pony Rider Boys was not washed into the bayou. Had they pitched the camp two rods from it's present site, in either direction, their out?t would have been wrecked. As it was they were little the worse for their experiences although everyone was still soaked to the skin.
As soon as the sun came out Tad rigged up a clothes line and stripping down to his underwear hung his clothing up to dry. The same thing was done with his blankets.
The other boys thought this was an excellent idea, so they did the same. The water was going down rapidly and their island was growing gradually larger. All manner of driftwood, brush and heaps of muck lay strewn over the ground, and this Ichabod was clearing away as rapidly as possible. The colored man understood the needs of the camp without having to be told. In fact, it was seldom found necessary to give him orders.
The dogs, for the first time in days, pricked up their ears and began to take interest in life. They were busy brushing out their bedraggled coats in the sunlight, now and then bounding back and forth, barking and leaping and playing. The Pony Rider Boys sang snatches of song, joked, and enjoyed themselves to the full. They were restless under inactivity; they wanted to be up and doing.
Of course, the ground in the swamp was soft, so they decided to remain in camp another day. This time would be fully occupied in oiling and cleaning guns, which already had begun to show spots of rust, and in putting their equipment in shape.
Tad found time during this bright day to make short excursions out into the woods, even into the brake, the better to acquaint himself with the conditions round about them. He eyed the dense brake, the giant trees, the queer formations of the cypress knees, and the thick vegetation, with the keen eyes of the experienced woodsman.
"This is an awful hole," was the lad's conclusion. "I don't think I should care to be lost in this swamp. If the Dismal Swamp is any worse, excuse me, as Ichabod would say."
Palmettos he found growing thickly in places above the black ooze of the swamp, bushes of varieties that he did not know covered the ground thickly in places, while vines and creepers climbed the trunks of the trees, hanging in trailing festoons from the branches. Coon and possum were plentiful, but he did not see any of them.
Most interesting to Tad were the swamp rabbits. These lived mostly in the depths of the woods and beside the lonely bayous. These rabbits, he discovered to his amazement, could swim and dive like muskrats, being as much at home in the water as on the land. Tad never had heard of them before and he watched the antics of some of the little fellows curiously. While Tad moved about with caution, he was unafraid. His love of nature was too great to permit him to be afraid of it; even though he knew that at any second he might tread on a deadly reptile, so he strode on with the light, noiseless step of the experienced hunter and woodsman. Here and there Tad would strike a blaze on a cypress with his axe. He did not propose to be lost in this forest.
The sound of the camp horn calling to him warned the boy that he had strayed a long distance from camp. He answered the call by shooting his revolver three times in the air, to which the horn responded by two toots.
These horns were used by nearly everyone in the brake. Each person was supposed to carry a horn with him, the horn being useful not alone in calling the dogs, but in signaling positions to each other, and its notes could be heard a long distance in clear weather.
The boy discovered from the direction of the sound that he had made a wide detour to reach his present position. However, instead of trying to take a direct course back to the camp, as an inexperienced person might have done, the Pony Rider Boy cautiously followed his trail back, never for a moment losing sight of his blazes on the cypress trees. It was more than an hour later when he strolled into camp, the guide having blown the horn several times, which Tad had not answered after the first time.
"Look here, young man, where have you been?" demanded Lilly.
"I have been tramping. I went over to a round lake a good distance from here."
"A lake?"
"Yes, sir."
"That way?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know how far that is from here?" questioned the guide.
"I can't say that I do," answered Tad with a smile.
"More than three miles in a straight line."
"I thought so."
"How is it you didn't get lost?"
"Why should I? I blazed a trail out and just followed it back, that's all."
Billy threw up his hands.
"I don't know why you boys have me along. Any fellow who can dive into this swamp for three miles, then walk back just the same as if he were following the sidewalk at home, doesn't need a guide. See anything?"
"Oh, yes," answered the boy laughing. "I saw pretty much everything but deer and bear. But I saw a deer trail."
"You did?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where?"
"About half the way out. He crossed my trail and went into the canebrake to the north."
"Probably an old trail," nodded Lilly.
"No, sir, it was a fresh trail made since the rain. I could see that plainly. It was a buck, too, and I think I should like to get a shot at him. Do they have regular runways down here?"
"Yes, unless they are chased. Have all the rest of you boys got scents like deerhounds, eh?"
"I have," answered Stacy promptly. "Why, I can put my nose to a trail and follow it until the deer drops dead from fatigue. I probably am the best all-around deer-chaser in the country. You set me on a trail and see what happens."
"I can tell you what would happen," answered Rector. "You'd get lost in less than ten minutes."
"If I did I should find myself," retorted Stacy indignantly.
"Yes, you would!"
"I should like to follow that deer trail, Mr. Lilly," said Tad. "How about it?"
"The ground is too soft. The horses couldn't make much headway in the present condition of the muck."
"By the way, are there any other hunters in this vicinity now?" questioned Tad.
"I hadn't heard of any besides ourselves. Why?"
"Nothing much. I discovered some man tracks this morning."
Billy regarded the Pony Rider Boy steadily.
"Young man, is there anything you don't see?" he demanded.
"Oh, yes, I couldn't hope to see everything. But some things I can't help seeing. I found this man's tracks while I was examining the buck's trail in the muck. You know feet, man or beast, sink down a good way into the ooze in places."
"I reckon I do. Which way was he going?"
"The buck?"
"No, the man."
"Heading west."
"That's away from the camp," reflected the guide. "I wonder who it could have been? Was there more than one of them?"
Tad shook his head.
"I looked for others. The man was alone and he had a gun."
"Say, are you gifted with second sight?"
"No, sir."
"Then how do you know he had a gun, unless you guessed it?"
"I saw the impression of the butt where he stood the gun against the tree. He was looking at the deer trail, so he must have been along a short time before I passed there."
"I reckon I'll be looking into that," decided Lilly, rising and thrusting his hands in his pockets, striding slowly back and forth.
The subject was not again referred to, but later in the afternoon Lilly announced that he was going out to look over the trails, and left the camp. He returned just before supper.
"Well, did you find it?" asked Tad quizzically.
Billy grinned.
"I reckon I did. I reckon you-all knew what you were talking about."
"Who was it?" demanded Ned.
"Oh, I don't know about that. I guess it was some fellow heading for Stillman's plantation on the other side of the brake."
"How far is that?"
"Nigh onto twenty miles."
"Is there no other way to reach the place?" questioned Tad.
"Oh, yes, but it's a long way further. We will be on the trail ourselves tomorrow, I reckon. The ground is drying out fast. I didn't see any bear signs today, but they will be moving right smart, now that the storm is over."
That night the campfire blazed and crackled merrily. The boys got a good night's rest, the tents being dry and comfortable and the air more endurable than had been the case for the last three days. Twice during the night Billy got up, took a look at the weather, and heaped more wood on the fire. Tad heard him, but did not open his eyes, knowing what was doing, as well as if he had observed it with wide-open eyes.
It was shortly after daylight that the boy awakened suddenly and lay listening. He caught the sound of water being splashed about. A thought occurring to him, Tad slipped on his boots and taking his rifle up crept out under the rear wall of his tent.
A sight met his eyes that thrilled him through and through.