There, splashing about in the muddy water of the little lake, was the fat boy. At the moment when Tad first espied him, Chunky lay floating lazily on his back, kicking an occasional foot and sending up little spurts of water.
Stacy was enjoying himself greatly. He had been complaining all the day before that he hadn't had a satisfactory bath since he came into the woods. The guide had told him to dip up water in the buckets, then let it settle until clear, after which he might take his bath.
This sort of bath did not suit the fat boy. He determined that he would have a real bath or no bath at all, so at daylight that morning he arose, and after peering about to make sure that no one observed him, slipped on a pair of trunks and, barefooted, picked his way to the edge of the lake. Stacy sat down on the bank to gaze at the water. He knew it was deep from its appearance, but just how deep he neither knew nor cared. The deeper the better.
"I wish the water weren't so black. I'll be a sight when I come out, but at least I shan't feel so sticky," he muttered.
With that Chunky had permitted his body to slip down into the lake. He swam about in circles, for a time casting an occasional apprehensive eye in the direction of the camp, a short few rods away, but no sign of life was observable there.
After splashing about for a few moments the fat boy flopped over on his back for a delicious float. It is doubtful if Stacy gave thought to the fact that these were reptile-infested waters, waters literally alive with death-dealing monsters. Perhaps he did not know about it; at any rate, the boy was untroubled by thoughts of peril. He was humming to himself when Tad first saw him there.
At the same time Tad Butler's attention was attracted to something else. Little circles on various parts of the lake were to be seen. These circles were widening. It looked as if one might have carefully dropped a stone into the water here and there without causing a splash. The silent circles were growing with the seconds.
"Quick! Out of there!" yelled Tad. For once in his life, Butler was excited. "Swim for it!"
"What's the matter with you?" drawled Stacy. "I'm having the time of my life—"
"Alligators!" shouted Tad.
Stacy suddenly stopped moving his feet. The fat boy was paralyzed with fear. He seemed to have lost all power of movement. Tad might have leaped in to Stacy's assistance, but he had formed other plans almost on the instant.
"Ned! Mr. Lilly!" he shouted.
Just then a black spot that might have been a floating knot appeared on the surface of the water some thirty feet from where Stacy lay trembling. The black spot was the center of one of those widening circles.
Tad's rifle leaped to his shoulder. A crash echoed through the forest and seemed to rattle among the canes all down the line. There was a sudden and terrific commotion in the water where the black spot had been seen, a floundering and threshing and a lashing of the waters, for Tad's bullet had sped true.
But there were still other circles, each now rapidly drawing nearer to where Stacy lay wide-eyed and motionless.
"Get him!" yelled Tad as Ned Rector sprang from his tent.
Ned comprehended on the instant. He saw Stacy out there in the water, Tad on shore with rifle held slightly forward from his stooping body, alert and ready to shoot. Ned did not wait. He took a running jump, landing in the lake with a mighty splash, and came up shaking the water from his face and lunged toward Stacy.
"Get out of this!" roared Ned.
"I—I can't," wailed the fat boy. "I—I'm too scared."
Ned Rector smote the fat boy with his doubled fist. It was the best thing Rector could have done in the circumstances, for it stirred Stacy to sudden activity. With a yell, Chunky threw himself over on his stomach and began striking out desperately for the shore, with Ned, yelling and threatening, following close behind.
Tad's rifle spoke again. It was just in time to stop a 'gator whose snout was suddenly thrust above the water a few feet behind Ned. All this had occupied only a few seconds, but they had been active seconds in every sense of the word, seconds fraught with peril and quickness on the part of two plucky boys.
A third time did Tad shoot. Though excited, his excitement did not appear to affect his aim, for the Pony Rider Boy had not missed once. With the third and last shot, Stacy's fingers clutched a bush on the lake edge. The boy pulled himself from the water and fell over in a heap on the bank.
"Get up. Get out of that!" commanded Tad. "Don't stop there."
"Hustle yourself," shouted Ned, himself losing no time in getting out of the water.
Chunky scrambled from the beach, then ran with all haste to his tent, with Rector following, making vain efforts to catch hold of the fat boy. He succeeded in overhauling Chunky at the entrance of the tent. Stacy, perceiving that he was going to be caught, found it convenient to stumble. Ned was upon him, but not before Chunky had picked up two handfuls of black, oozy muck, and as Ned fell upon him, Stacy plastered the contents of first one hand, then the other, over the face of his assailant.
Rector's mouth, nose and eyes were glued shut with the black stuff. Unfortunately for Ned he had opened his mouth at the instant when Stacy began painting his face.
"Now, maybe you will let me alone," jeered Chunky. "I guess I know how to defend myself."
"You're a fool," snapped Lilly. The guide was actually pale. "Why, didn't you know what was in the lake?"
"I'm busy. Come around after business hours," answered the fat boy, making all haste to discard his trunks and get into his clothes. He knew very well that, as soon as Rector was able to see and breathe, there would be trouble in the camp. Stacy proposed to be out of reach by that time.
The lad was out of the tent with remarkable quickness. He did not wait to draw on his boots, having heard the voice of Rector approaching. Stacy slipped out under the rear of his tent. He carried a rope with him. Making a bee line for a birch, he shinned up it almost with the speed of a squirrel, and a moment or so later was sitting hunched in a crotch, blinking down into the camp below him.
"Where's that ungrateful wretch?" raged Ned. "I'll skin him alive once I set eyes on him. Where is he?"
"He may have gone back in the lake," answered the guide. "I shouldn't be surprised at anything he did after that foolish play."
"I saw him go into his tent a few minutes ago," spoke up Walter.
"Stacy!"
The Professor called several times, but Master Stacy merely chuckled to himself.
"I guess he is all right. Don't worry about him, Professor," advised Tad. "You will find that he is in hiding somewhere about the camp. Hello, Ned, what's the matter?"
"That fat cayuse plastered a pailful of muck on my face," complained Rector. "And to think he would do such a thing after my having saved his life."
"Yes, who would have thought it?" agreed Tad. "What were you trying to do to him at the time?"
"I was after him to give him a trouncing."
"Oh, well, you can't blame him for defending himself, can you? By the way, Mr. Lilly, there are three dead 'gators out there. What are we going to do with them?"
"I reckon we won't do anything."
"Isn't there any way of getting them out?"
"No safe way that I know. You have just got one of your companions out of difficulties. Please don't go to getting into any on your own account."
"I don't intend to."
"Say, but you certainly can shoot. You plunked those killers squarely in the eye every shot. I'm pretty good with the gun myself, but for quick, accurate shooting there haven't many of them got you beaten."
"I had to shoot straight. Somebody would have been killed if I hadn't," answered Butler.
"You're right they would. But where is that boy. Where—"
Lilly uttered an exclamation and leaped aside as something came twisting down, striking him on the head and bouncing off on the ground. Tad found himself several paces to one side of the spot where he had been standing. Both men held the same thought. They thought it was a reptile that had dropped from the tree. Then Tad's quick eye discovered that it was a rope that had fallen from the tree. Glancing up, he made out the figure of Stacy Brown huddled in a crotch high up.
"Hey! There's a big bird up that tree. Watch me shoot him out," cried Tad, raising his rifle.
"Wow, oh, wow! Don't shoot! It's I, Stacy," yelled the fat boy.
"What—what—what's that?" stammered the guide. "That boy up a tree?"
"Yes, and to think I came near shooting him," answered Tad, in a voice loud enough for Stacy to hear.
"How did you get up there?" demanded Lilly in amazed wonder.
"I flew up. Didn't you ever see me fly? Why, I am a bird. And you didn't know that?"
"I—I guess you are, at that. I am getting to the point where I'll believe almost anything of you youngsters. Did he really fly up there?"
"He says he did," answered Tad with a grin. Tad knew how Stacy had climbed, for the rope already lay at the foot of the tree, but this form of climbing trees evidently was new to Bill Lilly.
"Come down out of that!" yelled Ned, catching sight of the boy up the tree.
"Where is he?" demanded the Professor.
"Up a tree," laughed the guide.
"Come down!" commanded Professor Zepplin.
"Chase Ned Rector away and I will."
"I'll stay right here till he comes down and then I am going to give him a thrashing," declared Ned firmly.
"Then I don't come down," declared Stacy firmly.
"I know two ways to make you," answered Ned.
"How?"
"Place some food down here under you on the ground—something that has an odor and something you like."
Stacy did not reply, but a troubled expression appeared on his face.
"What is the other way?" asked Tad, chuckling over the situation.
"I am not going to tell you. That's a dark secret. Are you coming down, Stacy Brown?"
"I am not, Neddie Rector."
"Very good. Stay there all the rest of the day if you want to."
"I just love to be up a tree. There's another 'gator out there. Pass me up a gun and I will shoot him. Look, there's a whole pond full of them."
"No you don't. You don't catch me that way. I know what you are up to. You are trying to stampede us down to the lake, then you will clamber down and make a get-away. No, sir, there isn't anything green in my eye that you can notice," retorted Ned.
"Except some of the green stuff that I rubbed in with the black," answered Stacy in a jeering voice. "Why don't you come up here if you want to get me?"
"I believe I will, at that."
"If you do, you will get a kick in the face," threatened Chunky.
"You haven't any boots on. You can't hurt me."
"No, but I can dig with my toes. If you don't believe me just come up here and try me. I dare you to come up! I double-dare you to come up here. Ya, ya, ya! 'Fraid-cat, 'fraid-cat!" taunted Stacy.
The others were laughing. Ned's face was flushed.
"I'll show you whether I can get you down. We shall see whether I am a 'fraid-cat or not."
Rector ran to his tent, reappearing at few seconds later with an axe, Stacy in the meantime following the movements of the other boy with anxious eyes.
"Now, what are you going to do?" questioned the guide.
"I'll show you. Everyone get out of the way."
Ned Rector swung the axe, burying the blade in the tree.
"Ned, Ned!" warned the Professor.
"He won't have to cut it down. Stacy will come down long before there is any danger," answered Walter.
"Pshaw! You don't know how to chop," jeered Chunky. "George Washington, with his dull little hatchet, could out-chop you with one hand."
Ned was making the chips fly just the same. His hat had dropped off and perspiration was rolling from his forehead, for his axe was not making as much impression on the tree as he had confidently expected it would. He made lots of chips, but they were thin ones.
"Woodman, spare this tree," pleaded a mocking voice from above.
"I will spare the tree, but I won't spare you," retorted Rector. "We shall have this tree on the ground within fifteen minutes."
Stacy was tugging at a small bushy limb, but Ned was too busy to observe what the fat boy was doing. After considerable effort Chunky succeeded in breaking off the limb. He poised it carefully for a few seconds, then let go. The limb was not heavy, but in falling that distance it gained considerable momentum. The limb caught Ned fairly on top of the head, causing him to stagger back and sit down heavily, while his companions shouted and jeered, Billy Lilly looking on with a broad grin on his face.
"Stop this instantly!" commanded the Professor. "I'll not have such goings on. Stacy, will you come down out of that tree?"
"I will not."
"I command you to come down."
"Commandhim. Don't commandme. How can I come down when Ned Rector is using the axe? He might chop me in two."
"Stacy!"
"Professor!"
"Ned, put away that axe. We can't have anything like this."
"But he smeared my face with mud after I had saved him from the 'gators," protested Ned.
"He—he jumped on me. I had to stop him," answered the boy up the tree.
The Professor motioned to Ned to go away, which Rector did rather unwillingly.
"Now, come down here."
Stacy hesitated, then wrapping both arms about the tree trunk he started down slowly. As he went he gained momentum, and the last eight or ten feet he shot down barely touching the tree, landing in a heap in the mud at the feet of his laughing companions. Stacy was up in a twinkling, fully expecting to find Ned Rector sprinting towards him. Ned, however, had remained by the tents.
"You never mind! I'll take it out of you some other time. I'll owe you a thrashing until some more convenient time," warned Ned, shaking his fist at Stacy.
"Now, young man, what excuse have you to offer for going into the lake?" demanded the Professor, laying a firm grip on Chunky's shoulder.
"What excuse?"
"That is what I asked."
"Be—be—because I wanted to take a bath," answered the fat boy.
"Go to your tent and finish dressing."
"Yes, I guess Ichabod has breakfast nearly ready," added the guide.
Stacy pricked up his ears at the word "breakfast," and started on a trot for the camp.
"I'll fix you for that, one of these days," threatened Ned as Chunky sprang into his own tent, appearing neither to have seen nor heard Ned. The same condition existed at breakfast. Ned was casting threatening glances at the fat boy, which the latter was pleased to ignore. Once during the meal Chunky, chancing to catch Ned's eye, winked solemnly, whereupon Ned forgot his anger and laughed aloud.
"That's the way it always ends. No one can stay mad at me for very long," wailed the fat boy. "That's the way my fun is always spoiled."
"Do you like to have folks mad at you?" questioned Lilly.
"Of course I do. What's the fun of living if somebody isn't making life interesting for you?" replied Stacy, gazing earnestly at the perplexed face of the guide.
"I—I never heard it put just that way before, but I reckon maybe there's something in what you say," reflected Billy.
"Of course there is. There is always something in what I say. I'll leave it to Tad, if there isn't."
"I agree," laughed Butler. "But let's talk about the canebrake. Where do we go from here, Mr. Lilly?"
"I reckon we will lay our course for Sunflower."
"What is that?" asked Ned.
"A flower," answered Stacy. "The common garden variety, like some persons we know."
"You mean Sunflower River, do you not?" asked Tad.
"Yes. What do you know about it?" inquired Lilly, raising his eyebrows.
"Not very much. I know there is such a place some twenty miles to the westward of where we are located at present," answered Butler.
"As I have said before, you boys don't need a guide."
"No, I think we need a guardian as much as anything. I move that we appoint you as Master Stacy's guardian," suggested Ned.
"Carried," shouted Walter.
"Excuse me, as Ichabod would say. I may be something of a success as a guide, but as the guardian of our young friend I fear I should be a miserable failure. I am too slow for a job like that. It needs a younger and more active man than myself for that position."
"You are right it does," piped up Stacy.
"It needs a hustler to keep going with Stacy Brown. When do we strike camp?"
"After breakfast," answered Tad.
"That means you fellows will have some work to do," nodded Chunky.
"It means you will have to do your share," replied Tad sharply. "You needn't think we are going to do your work for you this trip. Any man who shirks will be punished."
"How?"
"We haven't decided that yet. When we get into camp on the Sunflower River we are going to hold a meeting and draw up rules and regulations for the guidance of the Pony Rider Boys. Every man will have to abide by those rules, including Professor Zepplin," declared Tad.
"I agree to them in advance. It is an excellent idea," approved the Professor.
"Better not be too sure about that," laughed Tad. "We may make some regulations to which you will find it hard to submit. They will be very stringent."
"Yes," urged Chunky. "The Professor needs discipline."
"So do some others," muttered Tad.
Immediately after breakfast the boys began their work of packing.
They were glad to break camp after their experiences on Tensas Lake. It was not a comforting feeling to know that the waters almost underfoot were alive with dangerous reptiles. Then again these might come on shore in search of prey. Such things had been known. Beyond this the boys were eager to get into the heart of the canebrake and begin following the game trails of the southern jungle, an unknown section to most American people. Only a comparatively few sturdy hunters and rangers have followed these trails. The perils are too great, both from fever and from the denizens of the big swamp.
"How are we ever going to drive our horses through?" questioned Tad.
"That is easy when you know how," smiled Lilly.
"But it was all I could do to get through on foot when I was out the other day."
"You will find these horses are pretty handy in the swamp. The ordinary animal would be of no use at all. I will lead the way and show you something that will perhaps be new to you in forest travel."
"It is all new to me," answered Tad.
"All you folks have your horns with you in case we get separated. If you do, wind the horn until you get a reply."
"Wind your horn?" wondered Stacy Brown.
"Yes."
"What do you wind it with?"
"Oh, a piece of string," retorted Ned.
"Winding the horn is blowing it, Stacy," Tad informed him. "Blow it for keeps in case you get lost or are in trouble."
"Oh! Funny names you have for things down here. Won't it scare all the game out of the woods?"
"It will if you blow the horn," laughed Ned.
Laughing and joking the boys hurried the work of breaking camp, folding their tents into neat packages, putting every piece of equipment in its proper place. The boys liked to attend to all these details themselves, having been in the habit of doing things in the same way for so long. Then again they knew where everything was, right where to put their hands on any part of their equipment no matter how dark the night might be.
When they were ready, the guide looked over the outfit and nodded approvingly.
"I'll take the lead," he said. "Give your horses their heads. They will know how to follow; in fact, they will know better than you boys. After you have ridden the brake for a time you will know it as well as I do. And look out that you don't get sidewiped and dismounted by any of those low-hanging vines."
"I should like to see the vine that could unhorse me," answered Stacy.
The outfit started with the guide leading, Ichabod next, then Tad and the others. Stacy's saddle girth slipped as he grabbed the pommel to mount, causing him to sit down suddenly. The others were too fully occupied to notice his mishap, nor did they hear him call to them to wait for him. The riders swept away at a brisk running trot, which these experienced horses always adopted in working through the swamp or the canebrake.
The way Lilly bored through the forest was a revelation to the boys. In and out among the great tree trunks he rode, dodging cypress knees, leaping fallen trees where not too high, slashing right and left with his long bush-knife, cutting a vine here or a limb there, leaving a broad, easily followed trail that even a novice would have had little difficulty in following, though of course at a slower pace.
The boys were convulsed with laughter at the way Lilly bored his way through the jungle, the banged tail of his cob standing straight out, the tough little animal's ears laid back on its head, and nose thrust straight ahead. To Tad Butler the wild ride was a delight, only he would have preferred to be the one up in front, slashing and hewing the way for the others, for Tad was a natural leader and would have enjoyed work of this kind.
In the meantime Stacy Brown had been left far behind, out of sight and out of sound of the rapidly moving outfit. As yet he had not been missed.
Stacy fumbled and fussed until he had cinched the girth tightly, the horse chafing at its bit, eager to be after its companions. Then the fat boy thrust a foot into the stirrup, one hand grasping the pommel of the saddle, the free hand giving the animal a sharp slap on the flanks.
Chunky's horse started with a leap and a snort. The boy's toe slipped from the stirrup before he had succeeded in swinging the other leg over the saddle. Then something else occurred that was not a part of Stacy's programme. The pommel caught under his belt, suspending him from the saddle. The pony now was tearing along the trail in the wake of the others at full speed.
"Whoa! Whoa!" yelled Chunky.
The horse paid no attention to its master's command, and increased rather than lessened its pace. Stacy's toes were dragging on the ground, his body being pinioned to the side of the animal, which was literally cracking the whip with the unfortunate fat boy. As it was, Stacy's feet touched only the high places along the trail.
Whack!
The boy's body sidewiped a tree.
"Ou-u-u-u-c-h!" yelled the Pony Rider Boy. "Whoa, I tell you, you fool horse!"
But there was no stopping the animal. It plunged on and on, thorn bushes tearing the trousers of the lad, drawing blood as the sharp points raked his flesh, threshing him against trees and stumps until there was scarcely a spot on his body that was not at least black and blue. The animal was plainly frightened, and Chunky realized that it was running away. The reins were out of the boy's reach and he was powerless to pull himself up or get a leg over the saddle. The horse did not give him time for anything.
Suddenly the boy's fingers closed over something cold. It was the bush horn. His heart gave a leap. He tugged at the horn until he had succeeded in pulling it from the saddle bag. But when he tried to put the end in his mouth, Stacy came near losing some teeth.
A trembling blast from the bush horn rang out. Then another and another until the birds ceased their song. The blasts of the horn were alternated with the yells of the fat boy.
Off ahead the others of the party were riding rapidly, though not so rapidly that Brown and his frightened horse were not overhauling them.
Tad's keen ears finally caught the sound of the horn. He turned in his saddle, and for the first time realized that Chunky was not with them. The ride had been so exciting thus far that none had given any heed to what was going on at the rear. The boys supposed Stacy was trailing along behind them.
Placing his horn to his lips, Butler gave a long, winding blast.
The guide pulled his horse up short, as did the others.
"Stacy is not with us," shouted Tad.
"Where is he?" called the guide.
"I don't know."
"Why, why, he has been right behind us all the time," returned the Professor.
"I am not sure of that. I haven't looked back once. Ichabod, have you seen Master Brown?"
"Ah doan' see him."
"There goes Stacy's horn again."
"Yes, he is coming on," said Ned.
"There's something wrong with him," cried Tad. "I can tell by the excited way in which he is blowing the horn."
'Look at Him!''Look at Him!'
'Look at Him!''Look at Him!'
At about that time they heard him coming. The sound of the horse threshing its way through the bushes was borne plainly to their ears, and suddenly boy and horse dashed into view. The Pony Rider Boys opened their eyes in amazement.
"Look at him!" yelled Ned.
Tad whirled his own horse about and started for Stacy, with Billy Lilly not far behind.
At this juncture the fat boy's belt gave way, and he disappeared under the horse. The boys groaned, fully expecting to see Chunky trampled to death. But the horse was far too active to tread on its fallen rider, and cleared the boy's body in a swerving leap.
"Catch the horse!" cried Tad, dashing toward the fallen Chunky and throwing himself from his saddle, at the same time slipping the bridle rein over his animal's neck so that his own mount would not run away.
"Are you hurt, Chunky?" cried Tad, gathering the fat boy up in his arms.
"Hurt? Hurt?" answered Stacy somewhat dazedly, blinking rapidly and passing a trembling hand slowly over his face. "No, I reckon I'm not hurt. I scratched that race."
"But, but, what happened to you?" demanded Professor Zepplin excitedly.
"Ha—ha—happened?"
"Yes, yes."
"Why nothing happened to me. I—I was just trying out a new stunt," answered the fat boy, a smile rippling over his countenance.
"Oh, fudge!" grunted Ned. "What's the use bothering with him? He won't tell on himself."
"Neither would you if you had been dragged half a dozen miles by the back of the neck," snapped the fat boy.
"How far?" asked Lilly.
"Half a dozen miles."
"Is there any water near here, Mr. Lilly?" asked Tad. "Master Stacy's body is covered with blood and scratches."
"Yes. You-all lead him over here to the right. I reckon we can find some water."
"I don't want any water," wailed Stacy.
"Yes you do," insisted Tad.
"I don't. I guess I know what I want and what I don't want. Water will make it hurt. I want something to eat. All my breakfast has been shaken down until I can't feel it at all."
Tad nodded to the guide, who tethered his horse and hurried away to fetch water. In the meantime Butler was removing Chunky's torn clothes. Even the underclothing had been torn to shreds.
"My, what a mauling you did get," observed Walter sympathetically.
"Serves him right," answered Ned.
"I don't understand how this thing occurred," said the Professor.
"I think he got hung up by his belt, sir," answered Tad. "Wasn't that what happened, Stacy?"
"I—I guess so."
"Tell me about it," urged Tad.
"Ouch!" howled Chunky as Butler dabbed a wet cloth against the torn skin of the fat boy.
"Ned, you hold him."
"With pleasure," grinned Rector, taking firm hold of Stacy.
"You let go of me," raged Stacy.
"I am going to hold you, even if I have to tie you," retorted Ned. "If you don't want rough treatment just stand still and take your medicine. Tell us how it occurred. That will take your mind from your aches and pains."
"I—I had one foot in the stirrup. The beast started and I slipped. Then I got hung up."
"He got hung up. Hooray!" cried Ned.
Chunky tried to punch him, but Rector laughingly thrust the fat boy away from him.
"If you will stand still it will be ended in a moment, Stacy," soothed Tad. "My, what a drubbing you did get! So you got hung up?"
"Ye—yes. Then the fool horse ran away. I—I never walked so fast in my life. It—it was like sailing in the air. My feet were straight out behind me most of the time. You ought to try it, fellows. It's great. I'll bet I should have made a hit in a circus with that."
"I hope you didn't destroy any of the cypress trees," observed the guide.
Stacy gave him a resentful look.
"Walter, get another pair of trousers from Chunky's kit. This pair isn't fit to be worn again," directed Butler.
Walter Perkins hastened to obey Tad's order, and in a few minutes they had fixed the boy up so that he was reasonably comfortable, though his body was sore and it hurt him even to laugh.
"I don't know what we are going to do with you, young man," reflected the Professor, chin in hand, eyes fixed coldly upon the face of the fat boy.
"You—you don't have to do anything with me. I can do quite enough for myself."
"I should say you could," grinned Tad. The others laughed.
"I shouldn't want as much done to me," added Ned.
"Are you able to ride?" questioned the guide.
"No, I guess I'll walk. I'm not hankering to sit down. I don't know that I'll ever be able to sit down again." Chunky groaned dismally.
"Perhaps we had better make camp here," suggested the Professor.
"I don't think this is a good place to camp," answered Tad. "The ground is too low. How far is it from here to the Sunflower, Mr. Lilly?"
"About five miles."
"Oh, we can make that all right. I will lash my blanket to Stacy's saddle, and after he has ridden a few moments he will be all right."
Chunky agreed grumblingly, taking a keen pleasure in having others wait on him. He enjoyed his present situation even though his wounds were painful. In a few minutes they had prepared the saddle for him and assisted him into it.
"Now see if you can keep out of trouble," directed Tad.
"Give the baby his little horn to blow," jeered Rector.
"'Wind,' you mean," corrected Stacy. "They wind down here; they don't blow."
"Well, 'wind,' then, if you like that better," grumbled Ned.
"I do because that is the right way to say it. Your early education was sadly neglected. Did they take you out of school to dig early potatoes before the spring terms closed?" questioned Stacy innocently.
"Are you trying to roil me, Stacy Brown? If you are you might as well save your breath. I am too tickled at your predicament to get angry with you," averred Rector.
Lilly gave the word to move, whereupon the party fell into line again with the same formation as before, Stacy stubbornly insisting on keeping at the rear, the boys flinging back jokes at him. In this manner they went on for some distance, at first slowly, then gradually increasing their speed. Now and then the boys would glance back to grin at the fat boy, who was having considerable difficulty in keeping up. They noticed that he was not sitting with his full weight in the saddle. Instead, he was half standing in his stirrups because it pained him to sit down and take the jolting of the trotting horse.
"Look out for the vines. Keep in the trail," called the guide.
The boys, for the moment, forgot their companion at the rear of the line. They swung around in a curving trail, Lilly slashing and shouting directions at them, Stacy standing a little higher in his stirrups to see what all the shouting was about. Then, all of a sudden, the fat boy was swept from his saddle, kicking, yelling, while the horse lurched forward and started into a long, loping gallop now that it was freed from its burden.
"Hi, look there!" yelled Ned Rector, as Stacy's riderless horse came trotting up to them.
"More trouble!" groaned Tad Butler, wheeling and starting back over the trail at as fast a gallop as possible over the rough ground.
"That boy!" muttered the Professor, as everyone turned sharply and started back, Lilly outdistancing all save Tad, who now rode the jungle fully as well as the guide, except that Tad had never used the bush-knife. It was a dangerous weapon in the hands of an inexperienced rider. With it one was likely to do his horse as well as himself a serious injury.
They heard Chunky's yells for help long before they reached him, and even after reaching a spot where they might have seen the fat boy, they did not at once catch sight of him. They were looking for Chunky on the ground, believing that he had fallen and been left by his horse, while as a matter of fact Stacy was in the air, six or eight feet above the ground.
While standing high in his stirrups he had been caught across the breast by a tough vine that grew between two trees across the trail, so high that the guide's bush-knife had not reached it. Stacy had thrown out both hands to protect himself. The vine had slipped neatly under the lad's arms. The next second he was dangling in the air, with the horse trotting on ahead. And there they found him, swaying back and forth, howling lustily, afraid to let go for fear he would hurt himself when he struck the ground, but almost ready to let go no matter what the consequences might be.
The Pony Rider Boys, when finally they did catch sight of their companion, uttered shouts of merriment.
"Hanged at last!" howled Ned Rector. "Oh, I never thought I should live to see this happy moment!"
Tad brought his horse down just before reaching the fat boy.
"Hello, Chunky, what are you doing up there?" demanded Tad.
"Having a swing," answered Stacy sheepishly. "Come on up, it's fine."
"Thank you, but I don't see any way of getting up," chuckled Tad.
"Easiest thing in the world. All you have to do is to ride under the vine, reach up and grab hold of it, then let your horse go right on about his business."
"Is that the wayyoudid it?" questioned Butler.
"Something like it," admitted Chunky. "Are you going to help me down?" was the urgent question.
"What do you think about it, Professor? Wouldn't it be better to leave him up there where he cannot get into any further difficulties?" asked Tad, turning to the Professor.
"I am inclined to agree with you, Tad," reflected the Professor gravely.
"How long have you been there, Stacy?" asked Walter.
"Long enough. Come, help me down."
"Let go and you will come down much more quickly than we could help you," suggested Ned.
"But I don't want to fall," wailed the boy.
"Oh, very well, then, stay where you are," retorted Ned.
"I will help you down, Stacy," offered Tad, riding under his companion. "Now, let go."
"I—I'm afraid."
Tad grabbed the fat boy's legs, giving them a violent tug, whereupon Stacy and the vine came tumbling down. In trying to catch Chunky, Tad Butler was himself unhorsed, and the two boys landed on their heads and shoulders on the soft ground with the yells of their companions ringing in their ears.
"Get up!" commanded the Professor sternly. "This sort of thing has gone far enough."
"Tha—that's what I say," stammered Chunky, wiping the muck from his flushed face. "A good old-fashioned country road is good enough for me. I don't like this kind of traveling."
"Do you want to be sent back?" demanded Professor Zepplin grimly.
"No-o-o-o," drawled Stacy. "Not if I have to go back over that trail. That's the stickiest mess I ever got into."
"Your behavior is somewhat sticky, too," observed the Professor, with a smile. "Now, if there is no objection, I move that we proceed on our journey, but I wish Master Stacy to ride just ahead of me so that I may watch him."
"Who—who's going to watch you?" stammered the fat boy.
"Don't worry. We will look after the Professor," laughed Tad. "You must remember that he hasn't been getting into quite so much trouble as you have."
"He will," answered Stacy. "He's just been lucky, that's all."
The party, after again assisting Stacy in his saddle and placing him between the Professor and Tad, moved on once more. The distance to their next camping place was now less than a mile, and they soon reached the Sunflower without further disturbance, tearing their way through the dense cane, making a crashing that must have been heard a long distance away.
The Sunflower was a stream some fifteen rods wide by several miles long, with little bayous reaching off into the swamp every now and then, lonely, silent bayous, beneath whose surfaces lurked many perils.
"Do we swim across?" asked Walter.
"Master Stacy may want to. I do not believe the others will care about doing so," answered Lilly with a smile and a brief nod.
"Where do we make camp, Mr. Lilly?" called Butler's cheery voice.
"Straight ahead on the little rise of ground, Master Tad."
"Any choice as to position?"
"Use your own good judgment."
"Thank you, sir," was Tad's response. "Stacy, how is your heart today, after all your experiences?"
"It's weak," whispered Chunky hoarsely.
"Then I have a good remedy for it. Go out and cut some wood, but no more cane as you value your life. We don't propose to have another campfire blow up in the middle watches of the night and scare us to death."
"No more cane fire in this camp, young man," affirmed the guide.
Chunky very reluctantly shouldered an axe, after they had dismounted and removed the lashings from their packs, and after some delay they heard an occasional whack of the axe, then silence. The camp was pretty well settled when Tad sang out for Chunky.
"Where is that boy with the wood? Ichabod is waiting for it. Chunky!" he called.
There was no response.
"Ned, I guess you will have to go look for him. I hope he hasn't chopped his head off."
"Oh, he couldn't do that if he wanted to," laughed Walter.
"You don't know him. Stacy Brown can do most anything that other folks would think they couldn't. Chase him up, Ned."
"Which way did he go?"
"North, along the bank. He probably has gone into the swamp a little way to get out of the cane. I'll blow the horn."
Butler did blow several blasts, but there was no answer. Tad was not worried, knowing that Stacy could not have gone far and realizing that he would leave a plain trail in case he had strayed into the swamp.
A few moments later Ned's horn was heard. He had found Stacy sound asleep, sitting with his back against a tree, while at his side on a log was a great, hook-beaked, barred owl blinking at him wisely. Ned said the owl was enough like Stacy to be his own brother.
Ned was obliged to cut the wood himself, as Stacy refused to do a thing because Rector had used him roughly in waking him up.
"You treat me as if I were a bag of meal," complained Chunky.
"No, I wouldn't insult the meal to that extent," snorted Ned. "Get over there and sit down till I have the wood cut. You will then tote it to camp."
"I will thennot," retorted Stacy belligerently.
"You willyes. Remember I owe you one. If you don't watch out I will make it two and settle both accounts out here while I've got you alone," warned Ned.
Stacy pondered over this for several moments while watching his companion swing the axe, and evidently decided that Ned had the better side of the argument.
"All right," said Stacy finally. "I'll carry my share of the wood. It isn't that I am afraid of you, you know, but my heart won't stand any undue excitement."
"Oh, fudge!" grunted Rector, pausing to wipe the perspiration from his face and forehead.
Stacy started back with the wood before Ned had finished, but carried only about enough wood to burn ten or fifteen minutes. Ned had to fetch the rest, for Stacy refused to go back for more, knowing that Ned would not assault him here in the camp.
Along the water's edge the great cypress trees reared themselves into the air, and a few rods back of them the dense cane. The party was now in the heart of the canebrake, in which they had reason to believe lurked much of the game of which they were in search.
One of the big cypress trees stood just in front of the camp, its awkward knees twisted and bent, extending some four feet above the ground. Below the knees were watery caverns, black and oozy, foul and unhealthful. Stacy sat perched on one of these knees gazing thoughtfully down into the black pool.
The others were busy about the camp and failed to observe him. After a time the fat boy went out to hunt for a pole. He wanted to try the water to see how deep it was. He returned a few minutes later with a tall cane, the foliage still fresh at its top. It had been broken down, he knew not how and cared less.
"Going fishing?" questioned Ned, fixing a grinning gaze on the fat boy.
"I may be, then again I may not be."
"I hope you have luck."
"I hope I do."
"And I hope you fall in."
"I hope I don't."
Stacy perched himself on one of the cypress knees, and, letting the bushy top down, began poking about in the black pool. He felt something move under the pole in his hand, and gave a vicious prod. There followed a sudden commotion down in the water, then the cane pole was jerked down with terrific force.
It all occurred so quickly that Chunky did not think to let go of the pole until it was too late to do so. But there was time in which to yell. Stacy uttered a wild, piercing scream, for he saw what had caused the disturbance below. A huge snout, with a pair of jaws that seemingly worked on a loose hinge—Chunky didn't have to be told that the swimming reptile was a huge alligator!