Tad Butler was the only one of the party to grasp the note of wild alarm in Stacy's voice. Nor did even Butler comprehend what had caused it.
Tad, however, saw the fat boy lose his balance after clutching desperately at the cane stalk.
At that moment, engaged in straightening out the coils of his lasso, Tad had just slipped the coil into his left hand, the honda in his right. As he did so Butler had swung the rope over his head, intending to catch Stacy, giving him a slight scare.
Just as Stacy's feet shot upward Tad let go the rope, dropping the loop neatly over Master Brown's left foot and drawing taut instantly. Chunky, thus caught, sprawled between the cypress knees and the black pool, looking more like a giant spider than anything else.
"Ow, wow! wow! In the name of goodness!" shrieked Stacy.
"Keep cool, if you can!" Tad yelled to the frightened victim. Then, to the other boys:
"Get him out as quickly as you can, fellows! You'll have to be lively now! Something is wrong with our comrade."
"What is it, where is he?" cried the boys.
"There, under the tree at the end of my rope. Be quick. There's something down there. Be careful that you don't get in, too. I've got him fast, but he may squirm loose."
Tad had snubbed the rope around a tree and now began hauling in. Chunky's legs were spread wide apart, and Tad hauled him up little by little until the fat boy's legs were on either side of one of the cypress knees, the knee pressing against his body. Chunky could be hauled no further unless he were to be split in two. But Butler was satisfied that the fat boy was out of the reach of anything that might be down in the pool.
Lilly was the first to reach the scene, followed in great strides by Professor Zepplin and the other two boys. Now the problem of getting both the boy's legs on one side of the cypress knee was presented to them.
"Get—get me out of here! I've got a rush of blood to the head," pleaded Chunky.
"You are fortunate if you don't get more than that," snapped Billy Lilly.
"Did de 'gator done git him?" questioned Ichabod apprehensively.
"Not yet. He may," answered the guide. "Let up on the rope a little, Master Tad."
"You had better pass another one about his waist first, in case anything happens to this rope. Get your rope, Ned. I can hold him here until you have him safely secured."
Ned ran for his rope. All this time Stacy Brown was hanging head down, looking into the pool, face to face with the terrible thing that he saw down there. He couldn't keep his eyes closed, try as he might. A strange fascination seemed to force him to look into the big, bulging eyes of the 'gator patiently waiting for him down in the black pool.
Ned, returning with his rope, climbed over on the knees and leaned over to secure it about Stacy's waist. He quickly turned a pale face up to those gathered about the scene.
"Hold fast to me, please. I don't fancy furnishing a meal for that fellow down there," said Rector in a quiet voice.
"What—what is it, Ned?" gasped Walter.
"Never mind what it is. Just take tight hold of me. Hold my legs, if you please, Mr. Lilly."
The guide did so, and Ned lost no time in taking a double hitch about Stacy's waist. Lilly nodded to Tad to lower away on the rope, which Tad did slowly and cautiously.
"Don't—don't let me down in there!" yelled the fat boy, squirming and fighting and kicking.
"Stop it!" commanded the Professor sternly. "If you will behave yourself we may be able to get you out, but if you don't keep quiet we may let you go."
A moan was the only answer to the Professor's warning. Lilly now grabbed one of the truant feet, jerking it over to the other side of the cypress knee against its mate.
"Haul away, Master Tad," the guide sang out in a cheery voice. "I guess we've got the young gentleman this time."
While Butler was hauling in on his rope, Lilly and Ned Rector were pulling the fat boy up by his feet, each having hold of a foot. Stacy came out squirming like an angleworm being pulled from the ground after a spring rain. He surely would have fallen in again if they had not held to him by main force.
"There, you wooden-headed—" began Ned.
"Tut, tut!" warned Professor Zepplin.
Stacy was tossed to the ground a safe distance from the scene of his late unpleasantness, where he lay rubbing that part of his person where the rope had fairly cut into the skin. Stacy was still sore from contact with the thorn bushes, and the rope was an added aggravation to his already tender skin.
"You may thank Master Tad and Ned for having saved your life, Tad first of all," reminded the Professor.
"For getting into difficulties, young man, you win the blue ribbon in all classes," declared Billy Lilly. "How did you ever come to get in that hole?"
"He was fishing for something," grinned Tad.
"And he got a real bite," added Ned.
"He came near furnishing a bite for that gentleman in the pool. That was the quickest move I ever saw," continued Lilly, gazing admiringly at Tad. "How you can handle a rope! That's one thing I never could do."
"How did you manage it so quickly, Tad?" asked Walter, his face still pale from fright.
"I was casting at him for fun at the time. My getting him was not due to any unusual quickness on my part, for the rope was in the air when he lost his balance. I merely jerked it down over one foot, and I guess it was lucky for him that I was preparing to play a joke on him, at that."
"I should say it was," muttered the guide.
"You come with me, old boy," said Tad, taking Stacy by an arm and leading the fat boy to his tent. They did not know what Tad said to his companion, but they did know that Stacy looked very solemn and greatly subdued, when, after a ten-minute interview, Tad permitted Stacy to leave the tent. The fat boy sat down without a word, gazing reflectively into the campfire, and did not speak again, except to answer questions in monosyllables, until they had finished supper.
That night, as usual, the music of the barred owls, their weird screeches and yells, filled to the exclusion of all other sounds except the busy buzz of the giant mosquitoes. The latter were kept out pretty well by the smudge that Lilly built in front of the tents and that he kept going through most of the night. Stacy turned in early, having very little to say to any one. But by the next morning he had forgotten all about his narrow escape and was the same old Chunky, ready for any opportunity that might present itself for getting into trouble.
Shortly after daybreak Tad slipped on his boots, and, with rifle under his arm, sauntered out to the cypress tree, where he perched himself on the knees at the edge of the black pool. The boy waited patiently for half an hour, keeping a close watch of the pool, but he discovered nothing.
After a time Butler gathered up some rotten sticks and dropped them in. He had not been at this long before a loud splash below told him that his bait had been seized, and a moment later the bulging eyes of a 'gator slowly protruded from the water, the eyes gazing up at the boy perched above them.
"Now I reckon I have you, my fine gentleman," muttered Tad, slowly bringing his rifle into position.
It was perhaps three seconds later when Tad Butler's rifle, roaring out its deadly message, brought every man in the camp from his tent. They saw Tad sitting on a cypress knee, gazing down into the black pool, a satisfied grin on his face. Lilly understood at once what was going on.
"Did you get him?" he cried.
"I did," answered Tad calmly. "He won't have any more appetite for fat boys. Are there any more of them down there, do you think, Mr. Lilly?"
"I reckon there are plenty there."
"Then I am going to make it my business to thin them out," said Tad.
The bang of the Pony Rider Boy's rifle was heard three more times that morning. That appeared to have rid the black pool of its dangerous residents. While Tad was watching the pool Stacy Brown was dancing about the camp in search of something to occupy his mind and time, but the others kept a close watch on the fat boy and kept him out of mischief.
Early in the morning Mr. Lilly had gone out with rifle and dogs in search of "bear sign." The dogs were barking eagerly as he left camp, but the animals were disconsolate when, along towards noon, hunter and dogs returned to camp.
"Nary a sign," answered Lilly in response to Tad's questioning look. "There's game here, just the same. The dogs scented something this morning. Of course, I don't know what they scented, and what bothers me is that I couldn't find any sign."
"How did the dogs act?" asked Tad.
"As if they were mad about something."
"I guess they must have been mad with you for taking them out on a wild goose chase," suggested Stacy wisely.
"No doubt, no doubt," nodded the guide.
"I'll tell you what, I'll go out and find the trail for you. I don't suppose there is a better trailer in the country than myself," declared Stacy. "Why, I can run a trail with my nose, even though it's ages old."
"Are you speaking of your nose or the trail?" asked Ned.
"The trail, of course. My nose isn't ages old."
"Nor will it be if you don't watch out and keep away from trouble," warned Tad. "What are your plans, Mr. Lilly?"
"We will go out in the morning. Between us we ought to pick up something. This afternoon I will take a run about to see what I can pick up; then in the morning we will get an early start, all hands going out."
"That will be fine," approved the boys.
They were enthusiastic over the guide's report when he came in that night with the good news that he had found some "bear sign" about four miles to the west.
"Do you think that was what the dogs scented when you were out before?" asked Tad.
"I reckon it must have been. What you-all been doing this afternoon?"
"Oh, 'gator hunting."
"Get any?"
"I have cleaned them out."
The guide laughed.
"I reckon if you were to go swimming in there you'd change your mind. They are moving back and forth all the time. It would take your time for the next several years to clean them out of this river. Remember, we start early in the morning for the hunting grounds."
Early in the morning meant just as the dawn was graying in the east, and before the light really had filtered through the tall cypress. All the boys turned out cheerfully, including Chunky, who didn't utter a grumble. Ned said Chunky must be sick, but Chunky declared that he always got up that way, and that it was Ned who was so grouchy that he thought everyone else was. The other boys mischievously sided with Stacy and against Ned Rector.
After a hasty breakfast a light pack of food was stowed in the pockets of the saddles, and the boys jogged from the camp, leaving Ichabod in sole charge. Lilly rode ahead, slashing as usual, Chunky being sandwiched between Tad and the Professor.
The "bear sign" had been discovered in the canebrake about three miles from camp. It was to this point that the guide was heading. Arriving there he called the party about him for their instructions. They were to split up, and at least two of them were to pass through an exciting experience ere they returned to their camp on Sunflower River.
The dogs were tugging at their leashes, having already scented the trail, when Lilly called his hunters about him to give them their directions. It was decided that Tad Butler and Stacy Brown were to proceed to the north, posting themselves between two ridges of cane in the swamp, and there to wait until they were called in by the guide's horn later in the day.
Ned was given a post to the south, while Walter Perkins and the Professor were to remain with Lilly. Taking all things into consideration the three boys who were to guard the north and south were in much the better positions, as it was believed that the bears would take one of these two directions, breaking from ridge to ridge until they found a hiding place in one or the other of the canebrake ridges.
Tad and Ned were each equipped with a bush-knife, with a horn to each party. Lilly considered that the boys needed no further advice from him, the lads having had experience with bear before this and all being good shots and well-tried hunters at big game.
"Look out that you dont get lost if you get on a chase," he warned. "One is likely in the excitement of a chase to forget to blaze his trail. It isn't any use to get game if you can't get back to camp with it."
The boys knew this, too. Stacy declared that such a little thing as the canebrake didn't worry him in the least; that he could find his way out with his eyes shut.
"Don't try it," warned the guide tersely.
"I am glad I haven't the responsibility of looking after Chunky," chuckled Ned Rector. "Tad, you have your work cut out for you."
"All take your positions. We will wait here until you have done so, then we will free the dogs. Blow your horns, one long blast when you are ready, then lie low," directed the guide.
"Come on, Chunky; I'm off," cried Tad, springing into his saddle, armed with rifle, bush-knife, horn and hunting knife, Chunky having the usual equipment without the bush-knife and horn.
The two boys fought their way through the jungle and were soon out of sight and sound of their companions. Ned, too, was on his way to his post, thus placing the two outside parties about five miles apart, with the guide, Professor Zepplin and Perkins, somewhere midway between the outside parties.
After some time had elapsed, Ned's horn was heard. He had farther to go than Tad. The latter's horn sounded fully half, an hour after Ned's.
Lilly unleashed the dogs, and with joyful yelps they scattered, diving into the thick cane, darting here and there, in search of the trail, which they found, and started away in a very few minutes. To the surprise of Lilly, the dogs headed west instead of going either north or south, as he had looked for them to do.
"He will round back sooner or later and break for the other ridges," was the guide's confident prediction. "The boys will get a chance at the bear unless I am greatly mistaken."
Lilly and his two companions now started at break-neck speed in pursuit of their dogs. Through cane, through soft, swampy land they urged their ponies, slashing to the right and left with the bush-knife. The yelping of the dogs could be heard far ahead of them.
"Good trail," observed Lilly. "The hounds are making excellent time. That's a favorable sign."
"But we shan't get a shot at the game if it is going so far away," objected Walter.
"You can't tell about that. The bears are just as likely to double back here as to go on. You never can tell about those fellows. They are sharp and they can cover ground faster than we can in the woods. This nearest one is a she-bear and a big one."
"How do you know?" questioned Walter.
"I can tell by her tracks and the way she works. It is easy when you know. There, the dogs are out of hearing now. Gracious, she's making a long run. We will take a short cut across this way. That ought to bring us across the trail and we may be able to head her off."
While all this was taking place Tad Butler and Stacy Brown were standing beside their horses close to the canebrake. They too heard the barking of the dogs, and realized that the game was getting farther and farther away.
Suddenly Tad heard what he thought was the sound of a breaking twig off to the north of them.
"Chunky," he whispered, "you stay here and watch the horses while I make a scout. I believe that bear has given them the slip and has come over into the brake here. Don't make a sound. I will be back pretty soon."
"How long?"
"Half an hour at the most."
Stacy nodded. Tad tethered his horse, then taking his rifle from the saddle boot stole silently away. Stacy lost sight of him in a few minutes. Butler, proceeding as quietly as an Indian, had crossed the next cane ridge and had gotten nearly over a narrow stretch of swamp when he heard a sound in the cane just ahead of him. Tad crouched down and listened. Not a sound save that of the birds of the forest did he now hear. He had waited in that position for some time, when he heard something strike the ground in the canebrake just beyond him.
The boy straightened up. A flash of red and a crashing of the cane told him that his ears had not deceived him.
With characteristic quickness, Tad threw up his rifle and fired. A crash woke the echoes of the forest, stilling the songs of the birds in the trees. Then followed another crash.
"I got him that time. It's a deer," exulted the Pony Rider Boy. He did not pause to think that his had been a remarkable shot, or that he had fired while the deer was still in the air, making a leap for safety. The animal had caught sight of him as he rose to his feet, then leaped. Alarmed by the haying of the dogs, the deer had fled in Tad's direction, and perhaps it had halted because of the scent of the boy himself. At any rate Tad Butler's shot had been sure. His bullet had caught the animal just back of the shoulder, dropping the deer dead in its tracks.
Butler started on a run, crashing through the bushes and into the dense cane, and there lay the deer, a handsome doe. The young hunter felt regretful as he gazed down at the fallen animal.
"Well, I reckon I've got enough meat to keep us going for some time. Mr. Lilly will be glad to get this. Now, I must get the horses."
Tad jacked the deer up in the manner learned from his former guide in the Maine Woods, then started back for Stacy and the horses. Butler had a little difficulty in finding his way at first, thus losing fully twenty minutes, but finally he found the trail, and set off for the stock on a brisk run.
"Hey, what did you shoot at?" cried Stacy the instant he caught sight of his companion.
"At a deer," answered Tad, smiling happily, "and I got him, too."
"You did?" wondered Stacy.
"I surely did. We will go get him and take him back to camp."
"What about the bear?"
"I don't believe the bear will come this way. You heard them going off in the other direction, but perhaps you had better stay here and watch while I get the deer."
"No, no, I'm going with you," protested Chunky.
"Very good, if you want to. I don't think we shall lose much. Then again I may need your help in loading the beast on my horse."
"Is he a big one?"
"No, it is a doe," answered Tad, climbing into his saddle, Stacy doing the same with his mount.
"Hurrah!" shouted the fat boy. "We are the mighty hunters. Give us a fair show and send the rest of the folks about their business and we will show them how to get game. But I'm sorry we didn't meet the bears."
"So am I. Still, we have some food that is better than bear meat."
The boys hurried along Tad's trail as fast as possible. They crossed the swamp places, on through the canebrake and into the partially open swale where Tad had stood when he shot.
"It is right over there," called Tad. He pushed on, but as he reached the spot he stopped and rubbed his eyes. There was no deer there.
"He's gone," gasped Tad Butler.
"A regular phantom deer," jeered the fat boy. "Oh, what a joke on you. Won't the boys have the laugh on you?"
"This is no joke," answered Tad slowly. "I'm going to find out what it is right now."
Butler's first act was to dismount, tossing the bridle rein to Stacy. Tad then hurried to the spot where he had left the deer hanging.
"I guess the bear has been here all right," chuckled the fat boy. "Did you really kill a deer, Tad?"
"Can't you take my word for it?" demanded Tad somewhat testily.
"Oh, yes, of course. Don't get touchy about it."
"I think I have reason to be touchy. I not only lose my deer, but my companion doubts that I ever had one."
"I was only joking, Tad."
"All right."
"What do you think?" Stacy resumed.
"I don't think. I am trying to see." Tad stood still before destroying the clues by tramping about on the scene. The poles on which the deer had been hung had been flung to one side. He could see where the deer had fallen to the ground when the poles had been removed, and his first impression was that a bear had chanced that way and torn down the dead animal. But Tad knew that a bear would not have dragged the prey away, that the bear, if hungry, would have made a meal of it, then crawled away somewhere to sleep or rest. The deer had disappeared. That meant that some person had carried it away.
The Pony Rider Boy circled slowly about the scene, using his eyes to good advantage. He saw the prints of a heavy boot in the soft ground; then he discovered that the bushes had been crushed down where the doe had been dragged. It was a plain trail up to a certain point, and there the trail changed. Further investigation showed the lad that a horse had been tethered to a tree nearby, and it was at the base of this tree that the dragged-trail came to an end.
Butler understood the meaning of this when he discovered quite a pool of blood on the leaves of some trampled bushes. Some person had stolen his deer and loaded it to the back of the horse. Following the trail still farther, Tad saw that the man had ridden away with his prize.
"It is plain theft, nothing more or less," muttered the boy, as he started back to Stacy.
"Well?" questioned the fat boy.
"Stolen!" answered Butler sharply.
"You don't say so? Who did it?"
"How should I know? I shouldn't be surprised if the man saw me hang the deer there, then as soon as I got away he stole the carcass. Wasn't that a measly trick?"
"Beastly," agreed Stacy.
Tad stood pondering.
"What are you going to do about it—tell Mr. Lilly?" questioned Stacy.
"Well, hardly that. I am going after that deer," answered Tad with a firm compression of the lips. "You may go back to camp if you wish."
"No, sir! If there is going to he any fun you may count me in every time. But we may get lost."
"We can't get lost on that trail. By the time we have passed over it in the wake of the other man it will be plainly marked."
"How do you know there wasn't more than one?" asked Stacy.
"Because the tracks of one horse are all there are here. One man and one horse, that's all."
"Hm-m-m! But he may he a long way from here by this time."
"He cannot have gone far in this short time. Then remember, he is carrying a heavy load. No horse can travel fast in this swamp, especially when carrying a man and a deer, unless the man walked. In that case his progress would be still slower."
"Yes, but what are you going to do if you do catch up with him?" urged Chunky.
"Get my deer," answered Tad firmly.
"Let's be going," urged Stacy after a moment's reflection.
Tad needed no further urging. He quickly led his horse around the spot where the deer had been dropped, then blazing a tree on four sides for the guidance of Billy Lilly in case the latter should find it necessary to follow them, Tad started off on the trail of the deer thief, followed a short distance to the rear by Stacy Brown.
The trail was not difficult to follow; even a novice could not well have missed it for the thief had used his bush-knife freely in getting away. Tad had little use for his own bush-knife, except here and there where he found it possible to make a short cut where the other man had made a detour to find better going for his heavy load. These short cuts saved quite a little of the distance. Tad imagined that they were going a third faster than the man they were pursuing. If that were the fact they should overhaul him very quickly.
"Say, how much farther have we got to go?" finally called Stacy.
"Keep quiet," warned Tad. "Don't call. The trail is growing fresher every minute. We cannot be far from him now. I think we had better slow down a little. Make as little noise as possible."
"I don't see what that has to do with it," grumbled Chunky.
"It may have a great deal to do with it. You do as I tell you."
They were not as near as they thought, and the man was making better time than they had deemed possible. At the rate the boys were going Tad felt that they should have overhauled him at about this time, but there was neither sight nor sound of a human being, though the trail itself was still plain and fresh.
"More speed," directed the Pony Rider Boy.
"I'll break my neck if I ride any faster," objected Stacy.
"Then stay here and wait for me."
"I won't."
The horses settled to their work as if they understood what was expected of them. They leaped cypress knees, fallen trees, and tore through the forest at a perilous pace, but they were making more noise than either of the boys realized. So much noise did they make that horseman some distance ahead of them heard them plainly.
Tad suddenly pulled his horse down to a walk. Ahead of him, sitting his saddle easily, was a tall, bearded man. The latter's horse was white, with pink nostrils, something like Tad Butler's mount. The rider was raw-boned and armed with rifle and bush-knife, besides a revolver that protruded from his belt. But there was no deer on the horse, nor any trace of a deer.
"Howdy, stranger," greeted the man.
"Good afternoon," answered Tad, eyeing the man narrowly. "Have you seen anything of a man carrying a deer?"
"A deer?"
"Yes, sir."
"I reckon I saw a fellow with a buck some twenty minutes back."
"Where?"
"Oh, he went on past here."
"Which way did he go?"
"That way," answered the stranger, pointing on to the westward.
"Did you know the man?"
"Never sot eyes on him before, kiddie," answered the man. "But you seem mighty interested?"
"I am," was the terse reply. Tad was using his eyes to good purpose, but trying not to let the man know that he was doing so.
"Somebody you know?"
Tad shook his head.
"But we would like to know him," interjected Stacy.
"For what, kiddie?"
Tad gave Chunky a quick glance of warning.
"Oh, nothing much. We thought we should like to hold a conversation with him, that's all," answered Stacy carelessly.
"You are quite sure it was a buck that he was carrying?" questioned Butler.
"I reckon I ought to know."
"I think you are mistaken."
"Eh?"
"It was a doe."
"So?"
"Yes, sir. It wasmydoe," persisted Butler.
"Yours?" in well-feigned amazement.
"It was. I shot him and someone stole him. If you know anything about the man who took him, I would ask you kindly to tell me. He may have carried the carcass away under the impression that the man who killed the doe had abandoned it."
"This man wasn't under any seech impression, kiddie."
"How do you know?"
"Wall, in the first place it wasn't a doe and in the second place the fellow killed it himself, I reckon," drawled the stranger.
"May I ask who you are?"
"That doesn't cut any figure."
"It may cut more than you think."
"What do you mean?" demanded the stranger, peering angrily at Tad.
"That I am going to have that deer if I have to hold up every man in the canebrake," was Tad's firm reply.
"I reckon you've got your work out out for you," chuckled the fellow.
Tad gave him another look, and swung down from his stirrup.
"Stacy, you remain where you are."
"What are you going to do?" demanded the fat boy.
"Take a little look around. Keep your eyes peeled," he warned in a lower tone, intended for Chunky's ears alone.
The fat boy nodded. Stacy was unafraid. In fact he was pleased and he shrewdly suspected that the man before them knew more about the stolen doe than he had told them. He was positive that the stranger was shielding the real thief, and that Tad knew it. "Trust Tad for seeing things," was the fat boy's reasoning.
Butlerwasseeing things.
"What do you reckon you are going to do?" called the man.
"I want to look about here a bit, that's all. I don't suppose you have any objections?" questioned Tad sarcastically.
"You are a mighty pert young fellow, it strikes me."
Tad did not reply. He was following the trail of a horse to the north of where the horseman was sitting, narrowly watching Tad. In order to do so more fully, the stranger wheeled his mount about.
"Hello!" exclaimed Chunky.
"What's the matter with you?" demanded the man.
"Your nag must have hurt itself."
"What makes you think so?"
"He has blood on his flanks."
"That's so, kiddie. I reckon I must have pricked him with my bush-knife. I'll have to tend to that at the first opportunity," explained the fellow lamely.
"Pricked him with a bush-knife, eh?"
"Yes."
"Ha, ha, ha; haw, haw, haw!" laughed the fat boy mockingly.
"You laughing at me?" shouted the stranger angrily.
"No, that was a horse laugh," answered Chunky.
"What d'ye mean?"
"I mean I was laughing at the horse. The joke is on the horse, you see. That's why I called it a horse laugh. Ever hear of a horse laugh? That was one of those things. You see, you can learn even from a kid."
The horseman, glowering, was gazing so fixedly at the fat boy that for the moment he had forgotten to watch Tad, who was now circling slowly about the two in ever-widening circles. Tad found that the broad trail made by the man who had stolen his doe ended where they were.
The lad came around again to the point where he had discovered horse tracks leading north from that point. He took up this trail again. Behind a fallen cypress, partially hidden in the foliage, the Pony Rider Boy discovered a dead deer. At first he did not go near to the carcass, pretending not to have seen it, but continued moving around the place, his object being to see where the deer had been hit. He found the wound very soon, for it was just back of the left shoulder.
Even then Butler gave no sign that he understood. He strolled back to Stacy, giving the fat boy a knowing wink, which Stacy, for a wonder, interpreted correctly. That is, he understood that his companion had made a discovery, but just what that discovery was, Chunky could not say.
"Well?" questioned the stranger sharply.
"Well?" answered Butler, a faint grin appearing on his face.
"Are you satisfied?"
"Of what?"
"That your doe isn't here?"
"I am satisfied," replied Tad evasively, not saying of what he was satisfied.
"If you want to catch the man with the buck, you'd better be heading on. He'll get so far away that you'll never catch him if you don't move."
"I am in no hurry now," replied Butler.
"What do you-all reckon on doing?"
"Remain right here until the rest of my party comes up."
The stranger started.
"Chunky, will you be good enough to wind the horn?"
Stacy grinned broadly.
"I reckon I'll wind the old thing up until she caves in or breaks her mainspring," chuckled the fat boy. Stacy placed the horn to his lips and gave a long, winding blast that drowned the songs of the birds and set the barred owls to cackling uneasily.
"Here, what are you doing?" cried the horseman.
"If you aren't deaf, you would know without asking such a question," retorted Stacy, taking the horn from his lips for a moment.
Tad in the meantime had seated himself on a log. His rifle was still in the saddle boot, but Tad had his rope and his revolver. The former he did not have much if any use for in the present circumstances, but he half expected to have use for the rope. He had tried to avoid a clash, and he hoped the man would take alarm and go away. The man did nothing of the sort. Instead, he forced the situation to a head.
"How long you going to stay here?" he asked, controlling his voice with evident effort.
"Until you go away, or until my party comes up," answered Butler.
"I reckon you'll stay here a long time, then. I am camping here. Your party has gone the other way and they won't get out to this brake before tomorrow some time."
"You seem to know all about it."
"I reckon I do."
"And you know all about that deer over yonder behind the down cypress?"
"If I do, that's my business. The doe is mine."
"You are wrong," answered Tad. "The doe is mine. You know it is."
"Well, for the sake of the argument, what are you going to do about it?"
"Take the deer back with me," answered Butler evenly.
"And what do you think I'll be doing while you-all are taking my doe away?"
"I don't care what you do. I propose to do what I please with my own property."
"Look here, kid. I've just been leadin' you along by the nose. Now, I'm going to talk straight."
"That's what I want you to do. But I doubt if you can talk straight—I doubt if you can tell the truth. A fellow who will steal a deer will not hesitate to lie," answered Butler, gazing defiantly at the horseman. The man flushed under his tan, flushed clear up under his hat.
"Layin' all that talk aside, how you going to prove that that doe is your property?"
"How are you going to prove that it isn't?" retorted the Pony Rider Boy.
"Because I shot him."
Tad chuckled.
"You will have a mighty hard time proving that. Listen! I tracked you here. I followed the trail right to this spot where it ends. Your story about seeing a man with a buck was not true. There is no trail beyond this place. You hoped we would go on, when you would have taken the doe from its hiding place and gone away with it. If you want a deer so badly, why don't you go shoot one? If you don't know how to shoot, come to our camp and I will divide this deer with you. But take it back with me I am going to, and I'd like to see you or anyone else stop me."
"That's the talk," cried Chunky. "That's what I call turkey talk. Why, you moccasin-chaser, I could eat you. I would if I weren't afraid of getting a pain in my stomach."
"Never mind, Stacy," rebuked Tad. "I will talk with this fellow. You, Mister Man, may think you are dealing with a couple of boys. We may be boys, but we know how to take care of ourselves. I am not making brags; I am simply warning you that we shall take the carcass back to camp with us, and if you interfere we shall have to defend ourselves."
"You touch that carcass and something will happen right smart, I reckon," warned the stranger, jerking his horse about and facing the fallen cypress.
"Chunky, you cover my retreat," ordered Tad in a low tone.
"You bet I will," answered the fat boy, chuckling happily. Stacy was the original trouble man. Trouble was meat and drink to him.
"Here, where you going?" shouted the now thoroughly enraged hunter as Tad turned his back on the man and walked briskly towards the cypress.
"I am going for my doe," flung back Butler.
There had been no answer to Stacy's signal on the horn, nor had Tad looked for any. He would have been surprised had there been, knowing, as did the stranger, that Billy Lilly and his party were miles away from that particular spot.
"Come back here!" ordered the man.
"I will when I get the deer," answered Butler.
The stranger, hot with anger, flung up his revolver and pulled the trigger. There followed a sharp report and Tad's hat dropped on the ground in front of him.
It was then that Tad Butler showed his cool nerve. Without looking back he stooped, and, picking up his sombrero, placed it on his head and started on. For the moment the shooter was too amazed to do more than stare. His face was working nervously. Whether he had intended to shoot the boy or not, Tad did not know, but he was inclined to think not.
Once more the fellow raised his weapon.
"Oh, by—the—way!" drawled Chunky.
The man turned sharply toward Stacy. He found himself looking into the muzzle of the fat boy's rifle.
"If you don't mind, just drop that little barker, Mister What's-Your-Name. It might go off and accidentally hit somebody. In that case I should have to shoot you. I'd hate to waste any lead on you, and I don't think you're worth the price of a shell."
For one uncertain moment the stranger sat with revolver pointed toward Tad, his gaze fixed on Chunky.
"Don't try any tricks. I can shoot just as quickly as you can, and I know I can do it a whole lot straighter. Drop it!"
The revolver fell to the ground, the man's lower jaw hanging so low that Stacy could look into his mouth.
The fellow twitched slightly at his bridle rein to turn his horse about, but the move was not lost on the watchful Chunky.
"Want to lose that horse? If so, just keep on with what you are doing! That little black spot in his forehead would make a dandy mark. After the horse is down I may conclude to decorate your features, too. Oh, I'm a terror when I get started. I'm not started yet. You may think I am, but I'm not. This is just a preliminary skirmish, as the Professor would say. When the real sortie begins the air will be filled with the yells of the dead and the silence of the living."
Growling under his breath the stranger checked his horse.
"I'll git you yet, you young whelp!" he threatened.
"Tut, tut!" warned Stacy. "Such language before an innocent boy like me? I am amazed. You must have had an awful bad bringing up."
"Stacy!"
The boy answered without looking around.
"Watch him. Don't forget yourself while you are having such a pleasant conversation. I shall have to have my horse here," called Tad.
"Drop it!" yelled the fat boy, swinging his rifle toward the horseman again. The latter was tugging at the rifle in his saddle boot. The man halted instantly.
"Upon second thought you may pull it out. First turn your back to me, but be slow about it, and after you get the gun from its holster, just let it fall to the ground with the revolver. I'll talk with you some more after you have done that. I mean business!"
The stranger knew that. He was perplexed. That boys should be so cool and so ready to defend themselves against an experienced woodsman passed his comprehension.
The horseman drew the rifle all the way out, Stacy warning, "Slower, slower," as the operation proceeded. The horseman's back being turned to the boy left the man at a disadvantage, and he did not dare to attempt a shot, knowing that the boy could fire at least twice before he could get into position to shoot once.
"Let go of it!" commanded Stacy sharply.
The rifle fell near where the revolver lay. Stacy chuckled audibly.
"Shall I give him the run, Tad? I have pulled his fangs. He can't do us any harm now," proclaimed Chunky.
"No," Tad rejoined quietly.
"What shall we do with him, then?"
"I want to have a talk with the fellow when I have finished my job. You hold him right where he is, old boy."
"Oh, I'll hold him all right. I'm keeping my eyes on a spot right behind his left ear. It's the prettiest mark you ever saw."
Tad grinned appreciatively. He was proud of Stacy Brown, for Stacy had distinguished himself and shown his pluck beyond any doubt.
The boy, tugging at the deer, finally succeeded in getting it to the back of his horse, where he lashed the carcass, the stranger watching the operation out of the corners of his eyes, and admitted to himself that he had made a mistake in his reckonings. Tad knew his business. The fellow could see that. The fat boy knew his business, too, as earlier events had demonstrated, and to the undoing of the woodsman.
"There, I guess the carcass will stay on until we get home. I hope we make it before dark," exclaimed Tad as he completed his task.
"What about the man?" inquired Stacy.
"Keep him covered until I tell you to let go."
Butler gathered up the man's revolver and rifle, from both of which he extracted the shells. Handing the latter to the fellow, he directed him to put the shells in his pocket.
Next Tad handed the man his weapons.
"Put them away and don't you dare to load them until you are at least a mile from here."
"Look here, what are you doing?" cried Chunky.
"I am returning his property," answered Tad.
"Here I go and draw the animal's fangs, then you go stick them back again! Why, he'll be shooting at us before he gets out of sight," protested the fat boy.
"I wouldn't turn a man into this swamp unarmed, Stacy. It might be sending him to his death."
"Serve him right," grunted young Brown.
"Chunky, I am amazed at you," rebuked Tad.
In the meantime the stranger with a look of puzzled amazement on his face was stowing away his weapons, gazing perplexedly at Tad Butler.
"Now, my man, I don't know who you are; I don't care who you are. But I hope you will have learned a lesson and that you will leave us alone after this. Do you know Bill Lilly?"
The stranger flushed again. Tad saw that the fellow did.
"Then you know that Mr. Lilly won't stand for any such doings as yours. I reckon if he had been in my place he wouldn't have let you off quite so easy, and if you bother us further I shan't, either. Now, sir, I want you to head your horse straight west. Ride until you get tired of riding, but don't make the mistake of thinking that you can come back and catch us napping. We shall be on the watch for you."
"Yes, you had better not come back," interjected Stacy Brown. "This gun might get unmanageable. You don't know what a terror it is when it gets on a rampage."
"I guess that is about all I have to say to you," continued Butler. "Except that I shall tell Mr. Lilly. He may take a notion to follow you and call you to account. However, I think you have been punished enough. Now get out of here as fast as you can ride."
"I'll be even with you, you young cubs!" shouted the angry voice of the stranger as he rode away.
"Shall I wing him, Tad?" yelled Stacy.
"Certainly not," rebuked Butler. "What right or reason have you to do it?"
"I—I told you he would strike when you put his fangs back in his jaw. He will be after us again, mind what I tell you," predicted Chunky.
"We don't care. We have our deer," answered Tad with a good-humored smile. "But don't you think it is time we were getting back? We shall be caught out after dark if we don't hurry."
Chunky agreed, so the boys started back over the trail, casting frequent glances to the rear, for Tad really believed that the doe thief would try to creep up on them and take his revenge. For that reason Butler carried his rifle across the saddle in front of him, ready for instant action.
"Here, here, we've forgotten something," cried Chunky after they had been going on for twenty minutes.
"What have we forgotten?"
"To eat."
"Oh, pooh! We can wait until we get to camp."
"We can do nothing of the sort! I can't wait another minute. I'm so hungry that my works are rattling around inside of me like the dishes in a pantry when a mad cat is let loose among them."
"You have food in your saddle bags," reminded Tad.
"But I want something warm."
"You may get it if you stop," warned Butler suggestively. "Take a nibble and let it go at that. When we get home we shall have some venison steak. How would that strike you?"
"Don't aggravate me," groaned the fat boy, rolling his eyes.
"Anyone would think you were going to throw a fit the way you roll your eyes and show the whites," laughed Tad.
"I shall throw one if you say any more about venison steak."
"All right. I won't find any further fault with you. I am proud of you, Chunky. I take back all the disagreeable things I have said about you. You are a plucky boy."
"Yes, I reckon I am about the bravest man that ever tackled wild beasts in the canebrake," agreed the fat boy. "What are you thinking about?"
"I was wondering," answered Tad reflectively. "It seems to me that there is something more to this affair than I first thought. Why did that man steal the doe, Chunky?"
"'Cause he wanted it. Ask me something harder."
"I don't believe that was wholly the case."
Chunky cocked an inquiring eye.
"What do you think?" he demanded.
"I don't know as I think at all," laughed Butler.
"I thought not. You are always looking for something. I wish I had your imagination."
"What would you do with it?"
"Think up trouble that couldn't happen at all. But you see I could imagine it was going to happen, and get just as much excitement out of it as if it really had. It would be a whole lot safer, too."
"I agree with you," answered Tad, tilting back his head and laughing heartily.
Tad rode watching the trail with keen eyes. He had no difficulty in following it, but he saw that night would be upon them before they reached the camp, which would then make their progress slower and much more uncertain. Stacy was not worrying. He was not given to worrying until face to face with an emergency—and not always then.
Twilight settled over the swamp and the canebrake, and the barred owls began their wild hoots and weird croakings, sounds that always made the fat boy shiver. He said it gave him "crinkles" up and down his back. He told that to Tad, and asked permission to wind the horn.
"I hardly think that would be prudent. If our late enemy should chance to be following us it would give him a pretty good line on us, wouldn't it?"
"Gracious! I hadn't thought of that. Do you suppose he is on our track?"
"I hardly think so. Still, he may be. We are not traveling fast, you know, while he, being light, can overtake us easily if he wants to."
"I reckon he has had enough of the Pony Rider Boys," averred Stacy. "He knows he'd be hurt if he got too familiar with us. You ought to have let me fan him a little while I had the chance."
"No. I am amazed that you should think of such a thing. But I am sure you don't mean it."
"Idomean it. You bet I mean it."
"You are not a safe person to be at large."
"Neither is he," retorted Stacy.
"I give up," laughed Tad. "There is no such thing as having the last word in an argument with you."
"Of course there isn't. That's what my aunt says, so she uses a stick. I can't answer that in the same way."
Tad halted to search for some torch wood. He found some after poking around in the dark for nearly half an hour. Some of the wood he gave to Stacy, and lighted a torch for himself. The torch flared up, sending ghostly shadows through the forest, causing the owls to break out in a chorus of angry protest.
Tad was now able to see the trail, though the light made the trail deceiving, requiring the utmost caution in following it. Once off the trail, the boy knew that they would be obliged to spend the night in the swamp or the canebrake, for to move about would be to get farther into the depths of the forest.
Stacy grumbled at their slow progress, but Tad's patience was the patience of the experienced woodsman who moved slowly, observing everything about him, listening to all sounds, thinking of everything that a woodsman in the depth of the forest should think of.
It was about nine o'clock in the evening when Tad halted and held up one hand.
"What is it?" whispered Chunky.
"I thought I heard a horn."
"Yes, there it goes," cried Stacy.
The winding horn was a long way off. None but the keenest of ears could have caught the sound.
"Answer them," nodded Butler.
Stacy did. He wound the horn until he was red in the face. Tad had to stop him in order that he might listen for the other horn. He heard it again. They now knew that their companions were out looking for them.
It was about this time that Lilly discovered the four-sided blaze. He read its message instantly. Then he caught the sound of Stacy's answering horn.
"They are getting near. They will be here soon," announced the guide in a relieved tone.
"I told you, you couldn't lose Tad Butler," cried Ned Rector. "No, not even in the canebrake."