Daylight on the following morning found Bill Lilly and Tad Butler methodically making preparations for their jaunt, which no doubt would lead them many miles from the camp on the Sunflower River. Lilly had not divulged his plans, beyond telling the Professor that he need feel no alarm, as he merely desired to administer a lesson to the man in case they found him.
"Of course, there's more than an even chance that we don't catch the hound. If we do I promise you there won't be any gun-play if it can be avoided. I don't want to get mixed up with anything of that sort and lose my liberty for the rest of the fall until the courts meet in January. No, sir, not for Bill Lilly. You don't have to worry about the boy, either. He knows how to take care of himself better than most of us, and he will be a whole lot of help to me, too."
Professor Zepplin had given a reluctant consent to Lilly's proposal to take Butler, along with him. They packed just enough food in their saddle bags to carry them through the day, intending to eat their meals in the saddle.
A hasty breakfast was eaten, then after giving his orders that no one should venture away from the camp out of hearing, Lilly and Tad mounted their horses and rode away. The horses started off at the loping run that was now so familiar to the boys, and sight and sound of the two men was soon lost to those in the camp. Lilly had said it was doubtful if they returned before late in the night, and perhaps not until the following morning.
The guide had gained quite a lead on his young companion at the start, but this Butler quickly overcame ere they had proceeded far.
"Where do we go first?" asked Tad.
"We will take up the trail at the point where you fought the wolves yesterday. I wouldn't do this only there is no telling what that fellow will do, seeing he has done so much already. I thought after he had stolen the doe and you found him out, that he would be scared to go any further. I reckon nothing but a dose of lead will scare him. He'll get that if he doesn't watch out."
"If we sight him I guess it will not be necessary to do any shooting," replied Tad.
"You are right about not wanting to. Anybody can pull a trigger, but it isn't everybody that can keep from pulling a trigger under great provocation. It's a good thing that I have someone with me who can keep his head. I confess that I am mad all through. I don't dare to trust myself. Never in all the years I have been riding the canebrake have I been so tarnation mad."
"You will get over that after you have slashed through the brake for ten miles or so," answered Tad laughingly. "I shouldn't work myself up were I in your place."
Lilly took the advice of the freckle-faced boy and held himself down. They reached the scene of the battle with the wolves. There was no indication that any of the beasts had returned, but while Lilly was taking a survey of the place Tad Butler had gone west a little way to try to pick up the trail he had discovered on the previous day. The boy got down from his horse the better to examine the trail. Suddenly Tad uttered an exclamation. He had made a further discovery. Securing his horse to a tree, he trotted on a short distance, then halting, stood thinking. Soon, however, he turned in response to a hail from the guide.
"Find it, Tad?"
"Yes, sir; will you come here?"
Lilly rode over to where Tad was standing.
"He has been here again."
"He has?" exclaimed the guide.
"Yes, sir."
"How do you know?"
"These are the same hoofprints as the others. The horse had lost a shoe from the nigh fore foot. This horse also has lost a shoe from the off fore foot. I don't know which way he came, I haven't looked for that, but it is immaterial anyway. What is important is that he has gone in that direction—north, I think it is."
"Right you are. So the moccasin has been back here again, eh?" mused the guide. "Came back to see how well his little scheme worked? Well, I hope he is satisfied."
"Have you any idea where he has gone? Has he any place where he would go to get out of the way?"
"Say, I'll bet he has. I'll bet he is heading for Turtle Bayou," cried Lilly.
"How far is that from here?"
"Ten miles in a straight line. It is farther the way he would be most likely to ride because the roundabout way is the easier way."
"Then had we not better follow his trail?"
"Yes, I reckon we would make better time. Then, if he is coming back, we might meet him. That is what we will do."
The trail at first they found rather blind, the fellow evidently having sought to leave as slight evidence of his presence there as possible, but to Tad the trail was not very difficult to follow, and Tad was keen in work of this sort. He now concentrated all his efforts on the trail, Bill Lilly satisfying himself with taking second place, where he watched the boy with approving glances.
"I will watch the trail and you keep a lookout ahead," suggested Tad, glancing back for a moment.
"Right, my boy. Mine is the easy job."
"Neither one is very hard," smiled Tad.
For some time neither spoke. At one stage of their journey Tad dismounted and began examining the ground. After a few moments of this he nodded and swung into his saddle again.
"Stop here?" asked Lilly.
"Yes, sir. I don't know what he halted for, but he did not stay long."
"You should have been an Indian, Master Tad."
"I have been told that I am one as it is," was the boy's laughing reply.
"In instinct you are. By the way, we ought to be getting near the place we're heading for," announced the guide.
"You tell me when you want to change the plan. We are not making much or any noise, so we should be able to go pretty close to the destination. Of course, you know best."
"I don't," answered the guide with emphasis. "I may know the brake and the game, but as a trailer of man-signs I am not in the same class with you, young man."
It was about three-quarters of an hour later when they came in sight of Turtle Bayou, a lonely channel in the heart of the swamp, rising from the shores of which were ranks of cane that disappeared in the far distance.
"I suppose they are as thick in there as hairs on a dog?" said Tad, pointing to the stream.
"'Gators? I should say so. It's alive with them. A man who got in there never would get out alive. You want to look out for moccasins about here, too. They aren't disturbed much hereabouts, so there are a lot of them."
"I don't worry about snakes," answered the freckle-faced boy. "Just now I am looking for something that looks like a man. But, do you know, you haven't told me for whom we are looking."
"I reckon you wouldn't know his name if I did, but if we are lucky enough to meet him, I'll introduce the fellow," answered Lilly with a grim smile. "Do you see that thatched shack over there?" he asked, pointing to what appeared to be a heavy growth of bushes back from the bank on a rise of ground.
"Is that a shack?" asked Tad.
"Yes. It is where our friend puts up when he is in this vicinity. I have several shacks in different parts of the canebrake, but we haven't come across any of them yet, though we shall before we leave the brake."
"In there? Do you think he is at home?"
"We'll find out pretty soon. What would you suggest?"
"I would suggest that we walk right up to the entrance and learn if anyone is at home. I should advise leaving the horses back here, so there will be no trail close to his hut."
"Good idea. We'll do it."
They quickly secreted their horses in the brush, and after looking to their revolvers, the only weapons they carried with them after dismounting, the man and the boy made their way cautiously towards the hut, Bill Lilly leading the way, slightly in advance of Tad. There was no sign of life about the place, so they kept on until they stood in front of the hut.
"Nobody at home," announced the guide.
"So it seems. Shall I take a look about inside?" asked Tad, stepping forward.
"Wait! Don't be in a hurry. I reckon I'll have a look myself."
Tad did not understand Lilly's reason for wanting to do this, but he supposed the guide knew best. Lilly did. He leaped back suddenly, giving a vicious kick with his heavy boot, then jumping on some object with both feet.
"Look out! There may be more of them!"
"What is it?" cried Tad.
"A moccasin! The hound. Don't you see what he has done? He's made a snake-trap here. This bucket standing in the middle of the shack is sure to be tripped over by anyone who didn't know the trick. That would mean trouble for the kicker."
"I saw that bucket. I presume I should have at least pushed it to one side," answered Tad in an awed voice.
"That's the kind of a critter we have trailed down."
"It strikes me we haven't trailed him down. Perhaps he discovered us and has gotten away."
"I don't know about that. I'll let you take a look outside in a minute. The dishes are cold, but that doesn't mean much—he may not have cooked anything."
"The remains of his fire are cold, too," answered Tad. "I felt them when we came in."
"You are a wise head," nodded the guide. "You go out and see what you can pick up on the outside, but watch out for yourself," warned Billy. "There are some things I want to look at in here. Take your time. Don't get far away, that's all."
Tad stepped out, pausing to look about the place. His purpose was to learn if the owner of the shack had ridden away or if he were hiding somewhere in that vicinity. If he had ridden away there must be the trail of the horse with the bare off fore foot.
The Pony Rider Boy circled about, first looking for the place where the horse had been tethered. He found it without great difficulty, for a hoofprint always attracted Tad Butler's attention. Even at home he found himself studying them in the streets, out on the highways, wherever horses traveled. As a result he could read much more than the average good observer from tracks that lay before him. Tad was able even to form some opinion of the man who was riding the horse that had left the tracks.
The ground was considerably trampled at the tethering ground, and the bushes stripped clear of foliage where the horse had been browsing. It was this latter that had attracted the boy's attention first of all, telling him that a horse had been tethered there. From that, it was not a difficult matter to look up the trails. There were several of these. More time was necessary to determine which of them had been made last, but after a little study the Pony Rider Boy picked out the fresh trail.
"He rode out this way, heading southwest, I should call it," muttered the lad. "I wonder where he was heading for? Still, there is no use wondering, for he may have turned due east or due west after going farther into the swamp or the brake. The question is, where is he now, and is he coming back here today?"
The question was answered in a manner wholly unlooked for by Tad Butler. For the moment the lad, caught off his guard, was at a loss what to do. But his quick wit came to his rescue. Tad dropped to all fours and on hands and feet began running over the ground like a monkey, his body well screened by the bushes about him.
The cause of Tad's alarm had been a slight trembling of the soft ground underfoot, followed by a crunching sound as if something or someone had trod on a rotting stick. The lad knew that either man or beast was near at hand, but he did not have time to satisfy himself which of the two it was. He acted quickly, and, regardless of snakes, wriggled away to a place of greater safety. He reasoned, of course, that if it were the owner of the shack returning, he would ride his horse to its stable first of all.
Crouching down in the bushes the boy waited and listened. By this time he could tell that it was a horse approaching. Taking a long chance the boy half rose from his hiding place and peered out. Not more than six rods from him he saw the fellow who had stolen his doe riding straight towards him.
The Pony Rider Boy quickly drew back and none too soon, for the fellow's eyes caught the faint movement of the bushes at that point. He probably thought this movement had been caused by some lurking animal, for he made no attempt to investigate. He tethered his horse silently, then to Tad's alarm either his own horse or Lilly's uttered a loud whinny.
The boy in the bushes groaned inwardly.
"That gives the whole game away," he muttered. "I am lucky if he doesn't send a shot this way just for luck."
The stranger did nothing of the sort. Instead, he stood stock still. Tad could fairly feel the eyes of the man burn into his hiding place, though he could not see the man at all. There was a slight movement where the stranger's horse was tethered, a scarcely perceptible vibration of the earth under Tad's feet. He listened and learned that the man was walking away.
Butler again took a chance and peered over the tops of the bushes. The fellow was walking toward his shack, and what was more, his revolver was in his hand ready for instant use. The boy hoped that Lilly had been warned by the whinny of the horse and made his escape from the shack. But Lilly had not heard. He was fussing about in the shack, as Tad quickly deduced from the actions of the newcomer.
The boy began crawling towards the shack, making a detour so as not to expose himself to view, and for a moment he lost sight of his man. When he next caught sight of him, the fellow was standing close to the entrance of his shack with revolver leveled at it, or rather at the opening.
In a twinkling Tad Butler's pistol was in his hand, trained on the back of the newcomer. Still, the boy was not excited; he was watching for the move that would indicate the other man's intention to shoot. Butler did not believe he was going to do so. In this he was right.
For fully three minutes the man stood still gazing into the shack. Tad did not know what was going on in there, for he was unable to see into the place from his position, nor did he dare move on until the fellow made his next move. This he did very shortly.
"Hold up your hands!"
The fellow's voice rang out with startling distinctness. It made Tad start. He still had the man covered with his own weapon. The boy saw Bill Lilly appear at the door, but there was neither surprise nor fear on the face of the guide as he faced the revolver in the hands of the newcomer.
"So, it's you, is it, Alligator Pete? I reckoned you'd be along here pretty soon."
"What are you doing in my shack?"
"I reckoned I'd cage a few more moccasins for your menagerie. Put down that gun and I'll talk to you."
Pete laughed. He observed that Lilly's revolver was not in its holster. As a matter of fact, the guide had removed it, keeping it in his hand in case of a surprise, and in looking into Pete's belongings he had had occasion to lay the weapon down. The later interruption came so quickly and unexpectedly that Billy did not think of his revolver until too late to recover it. He knew the man before him. It was Alligator Pete in reality, and Pete was in a white rage.
"I reckon I'll put down the gun when I get ready and not before," answered the "Alligator." "What are you doing in my shack?"
"I'll answer that question by asking you one. What do you mean by interfering with my party?"
"I haven't."
"You have. You stole a doe that one of them shot."
"Oh, I did, eh?" sneered Pete.
"You know you did, but that wasn't all. You laid a false trail over the bear sign hoping to call the wolves. You knew they would attack my dogs. You planned it all, you miserable whelp! You see I know all about it. It's lucky for you that I haven't got my pistol. I'd shoot you where you stand!" Lilly's voice was calm but incisive.
"I reckon I'd have something to say about that; I reckon this gun might go off before yours did. I reckon it may go off as it is."
"No. You are too big a coward to shoot a man face to face. I could jump you now before you could shoot."
"You'd better not try it," warned Pete angrily. "You lie when you say I did those things. You want to get me in a box. You've been trying to get me in a box for the last year."
"You have got yourself in a box, Pete. This time it's a box that you won't get out of so easily as you think. I have the dead wood on you."
"This is the only dead wood that talks here," answered Pete, tapping his revolver significantly. "And it talks loud, too. Now what do you reckon you are doing in my shack?"
"Just what you did in one of mine once, tried to find out something. The difference is that I have found something and you didn't, because there wasn't anything to find."
"And what do you reckon to do now?"
"To make you answer for what you have done," replied Lilly evenly.
"How?"
"That is my business so far. Remember I have some boys in camp who can identify you. Remember you tried to shoot one of them."
"I didn't. I didn't intend to hit him. Don't you think I could hit a man at twenty paces without—"
A broad grin was spreading over the face of Bill Lilly.
"I'm mighty glad you admit it," he said in a sarcastic tone. "It saves a lot of trouble."
Pete's face flushed.
"It don't save you any. Now look here, Bill Lilly, I've got something to say to you. On one condition I'll let you go and say nothing about your going through my shack."
"What's the condition?"
"That you step aside and give me a show at some of those fellows who think they are mighty hunters, but have more money than brains. Another one is that you don't say anything against me when you get back home, and—"
"Those are two conditions. You said you would make only one," jeered Lilly.
"I'll make as many as I want to. Another one is that you get sick and have to go home, leaving the party to me for the rest of the time."
Billy laughed outright.
"You must be crazy, or else you take me for a fool. You ought to know that I'm not quite so daffy as to agree to a thing like that."
"You'll agree or it will be the worse for you. Remember I've got the best of you."
Billy opened his mouth to speak, then discreetly closed it again. He was about to say that Pete was reckoning without a knowledge of the situation, when suddenly the thought of Tad Butler entered the guide's mind. Tad was nowhere in sight. The boy, he believed, was out on the trail, and he did not know how far the boy might have wandered. Lilly did not know what was best to be done in the circumstances. He was unarmed. It was true he might leap on his assailant, but the chances were that Pete would shoot him before he could disarm the man.
"I don't agree to any of your conditions. Now what are you going to do about it?" demanded Lilly, his lips closing into a firm, straight line.
"I am going to—"
Pete did not finish what he was about to say. A sudden and unlooked-for interruption changed the current of his thoughts in a startling manner. With a yell he leaped back, his revolver going off into the air.
In a second Alligator Pete lay rolling and writhing on the ground.
Bill Lilly's attention had been called to a slight movement of the bushes behind where Alligator Pete was standing, but he did not understand the meaning of the disturbance, nor did he look very sharply until something unusual caused him to flash a quick glance in that direction.
A writhing, twisting something rose from behind the bushes, wriggled through the air, headed directly for Pete. The guide suddenly realized that it was a rope, with a great loop at the end of it.
The loop wobbled over Pete's head for a brief instant, then flopped down over his body. Instantly the loop was drawn taut; then came a mighty tug and Pete went down with his arms pinioned to his sides, struggling frantically to free himself from the grip of the rope. Even then he did not understand what had occurred. Perhaps he thought it was a snake that had twisted about him.
In a few seconds, however, he collected his wits. The revolver was still in his hand. Pete began pulling the trigger, trying his best to get a bead on Bill Lilly and put a bullet through him.
"Keep out of range till he gets through shooting!" called the exultant voice of Tad Butler from behind the bushes. "I can hold him. He won't get out of that loop in a hurry."
Lilly took advantage of the opportunity to spring back into the shack, where he snatched up his own weapon, then leaped out.
"Drop that gun, Pete!" commanded the guide sternly, at the same time leveling his own weapon at the man on the ground. "Drop it, I say!"
Pete, after gazing at the determined face of Billy Lilly for a few seconds, let go his grip on the butt of his revolver. Billy stepped over and kicked the weapon out of reach. Next he searched the clothes of the roped man, removing a knife.
"Get up!" he commanded.
Alligator Pete did so, his face red with rage, his eyes menacing.
"Who did that?" he demanded.
"I reckon I did," answered Tad Butler, stepping forward, still keeping the rope taut so that his prisoner should not run away.
"I'll kill you for that!" raged the prisoner.
"Not just now you won't. Later, perhaps. At present you are not in condition to kill anyone. What shall we do with him, Mr. Lilly?"
Pete was staring, still working and tugging at the rope. He had recognized Tad Butler on the instant.
"It isn't a doe this time, Pete," laughed the Pony Rider Boy.
"No, it'll be a dead kid when I get free again."
"I wouldn't make any threats were I in your place. You are in no position to make threats. Shall I remove the rope, Mr. Lilly?"
"Take it off, but look out that he doesn't grab you. If he tries to run away I'll pink him. Remember, Pete, no monkey-shines."
Tad slacked up on the rope, nodding to the prisoner to let it drop, which the man did quickly, Tad not taking chances by getting within reach of the fellow's wiry arms.
With his freedom, Alligator Pete's oozing courage in a measure returned to him, though he was still covered by the guide's revolver. Tad coiled his rope and secured it to his belt, Pete watching the operation with interest. He had never seen roping in real life. He had not seen this time, but he had felt, which was less interesting than had he been a mere spectator. Lilly was regarding the fellow frowningly.
"I ought to do it, but somehow I can't," he muttered.
"What shall we do with him now we have him?" asked Tad. "I guess we shall have to turn him loose."
"I reckon we won't do anything of the sort, or he will be sure to be up to more mischief. I reckon we better take him with us. He has got to pay for what he has done."
"I haven't done anything. You can't—you don't dare hold me. You let me go!"
"See anything green in my eyes?" demanded Lilly. "We have the goods on you. We have trailed your pony, we have identified your dog, we know the whole story from beginning to end, as I have already told you. I'll tell you what we will do, Master Tad. We will put him on his horse and take him back to camp with us. We can then talk the matter over and decide what we had better do."
Tad was willing, in fact he was rather glad of the opportunity to take Pete back and show him to the boys. Chunky would be pleased to set eyes on the fellow again.
"Get the horse," directed Lilly. "I will hold him here until you are ready."
Tad hurried away. First he brought up their own animals, then went after Pete's mount. Pete's rifle came in for attention, and Tad decided to empty the magazine and put the rifle back in the saddle boot, which he did. Next he examined the horse's feet. There was a shoe missing on the off fore foot. The horse was a wiry, active little animal. The boy looked over him with the eyes of an expert.
"He is a better nag than mine," decided the Pony Rider Boy. "I'll wager he could lope all day without tiring out. I wonder if I could buy him? This animal has one shoe off the off fore foot, as I told you," announced the lad, leading the animal up to the shack. "Always keep your horse well shod and free from hoof or shoe peculiarities if you don't want to be trailed down," advised Butler. "How do you propose to keep Pete?" he asked the guide.
"We shall have to tie him," answered Lilly.
"Suppose I place my rope around him, keeping the free end in my hand and riding behind him? That will leave you free to use a weapon in case he tries to get away."
"Good idea. Get aboard."
Pete lost no time in obeying the latter command, evidently believing that on his horse he would find a better opportunity to get away. Tad winked at the guide as the hunter swung into his saddle. No sooner had Pete felt the touch of the stirrups under his feet than he dug the rowels of his spurs into his horse.
The animal snorted, rising into the air. Then a most unexpected thing occurred. Alligator Pete was jerked from his saddle. He landed heavily on his head in the soft muck.
"Catch the horse!" shouted Tad.
Billy Lilly aroused himself from his stupor caused by the quick action of the Pony Rider Boy, and, running out, captured the white horse, leading it back to the scene. Pete was getting up slowly, rubbing the ooze from his head and face.
Tad had suspected the hunter would make the very move he did. The boy was ready for him and while Pete was getting into his saddle, back half turned to them, Tad was swinging the big loop of his lariat over his own head. The instant he saw what the hunter was up to, the boy sent the rope twisting through the air. It fell neatly over the head of Alligator Pete with the result already known to the reader.
Lilly was grinning broadly when he returned with the hunter's horse.
"That was the slickest thing I ever saw in all my life, boy. Didn't know what you had met up with when you stole the doe from this kid, eh, Pete? Now, do you think you can be good, or do you want some more of the same medicine?"
The prisoner did not reply.
"Leave the rope where it is," directed Butler. "I don't take any more chances with you. You ought to thank me for having roped you. If I had not, the chances are that Mr. Lilly would have shot you."
"I reckon I would have done it," grinned the guide.
At a nod from Tad the guide led up the boy's horse. He then ordered Pete to mount again, after which the guide and the boy leaped into their saddles, with Tad riding close behind the prisoner, Lilly a little to one side. In this order they started for camp. They had not gone far before Butler observed the prisoner's hand resting on the butt of his rifle. This brought a grin to the face of the Pony Rider Boy.
"To save you trouble, Pete, I will say that I drew the shells from the magazine. Your gun is empty. Lilly doesn't know this, so if you try to draw the gun you may get shot."
The prisoner promptly withdrew his hand from the butt of his weapon. For the first time he seemed to realize that he had been outwitted at every turn, and his courage began slipping away from him. Pete's head drooped until his chin was almost to his chest. Tad Butler recognized the sign of surrender. He felt pity for the man, for Tad was tender-hearted and he did not like to see others suffer.
"Hadn't we better let him go, Mr. Lilly?" he asked in a low voice, nodding toward the prisoner.
"No!"
Tad shrugged his shoulders. They continued on in silence for a long time, Tad keeping his eyes on the prisoner, now jogging faster, now slower, to keep the lariat at about the same degree of tautness. Pete felt a gentle pressure about his body all the time. He knew that the other end of the rope was secured to the pommel of his captor's saddle and that any attempt to get away would land him on his back on the ground. This not being a cheerful prospect, Alligator Pete rode on as docile as a whipped cur.
It was just supper time when they rode into the camp on Sunflower River with their prisoner. Stacy Brown was the only one of the party except Ichabod who recognized Alligator Pete.
"Hello!" greeted the fat boy.
The prisoner did not answer.
"I am glad to see you. I owe you something. After you have had your supper I'm going to beat you," announced the fat boy.
"He is pretty well subdued as it is, Chunky," answered Tad soberly. "Don't humiliate him. Can't you see that the fellow is suffering? Never kick a dog after he is down and helpless."
"He isn't a dog. The dogs wouldn't own him as a member of their tribe."
In the meantime, Lilly had ordered the prisoner to get down, after which the guide tied the man to a tree. The boys pressed about Tad to hear the story of the capture. Butler told them briefly what had taken place, without making any special point of his own part in the affair. But if Tad had been modest about it, Lilly was not. He told them plainly that Tad Butler was the cleverest little roper and trailer who ever had come into the Louisiana canebrake, and that if it hadn't been for Tad there might have been all entirely different story to tell.
"What do you propose to do with the man, now that you have him?" asked the Professor after the story had been fully told.
"Keep him till we go back to Jackson. I'll have him locked up, and you had better believe the judge will give him all that's coming to him. Pete won't be hitting the canebrake trail right smart again, I reckon."
Supper was given to the prisoner, then later he was made comfortable for the night. Lilly announced that they would take the trail for bear again in the morning. He said he felt it in his bones that they were going to have the sport for which they had come into the canebrake. He felt that there were bear waiting for them out there. They had enough reserve dogs to take the trail and they might be sure that Alligator Pete would not be on hand to bother the trail.
At a late hour they turned in, Tad Butler not as well satisfied over his achievement as most lads would have been.
It was late in the night when Tad crawled from his tent and crept cautiously towards the spot where Alligator Pete lay sleeping. He reached the prisoner without awakening him, so cautious had been his movements. The first Pete knew of his presence was when Tad shook him lightly by the shoulder.
The "Alligator" started up, but was too good a woodsman to utter a sound.
"It's Butler," whispered the boy. "Have you a family?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Wife and some kids."
"Where are they?"
"Just over the line in Mississippi."
"Do you think, if you were let go, that you could go home to Mississippi and behave yourself?"
"I reckon it wouldn't take me long to get home."
"And you will keep away from Bill Lilly and not try to take revenge on him?"
"I don't want to set eyes on him again."
"It isn't a question of your setting eyes on him, but of his setting eyes on you. If he does, he will shoot you on sight, Pete. Do you promise to get over to your own state and behave yourself?"
"I promise."
Tad without further parley untied the knots that held the prisoner to the tree.
"Your horse is about ten rods down the bank that way. Your rifle is in the boot and you have plenty of shells. I have also put some food in your saddle bag. Now—get!"
It was about daybreak on the following morning when the sleepy Ichabod stumbled from his bed and wobbled out into the open, rubbing his eyes. He gathered the dry stuff for the campfire, which had gone out, and proceeded to make a smudge which got into his eyes, causing him further distress.
The colored man had fussed about his duties for a full half hour, when taking a pail he started for the river to fetch water which he would boil for the use of the outfit. Reaching the point where the prisoner had been tied to the tree Ichabod halted, rubbing his eyes and scratching his head. He was confident that something was wrong, but in his sleepy condition he was not quite sure for the moment what that something was. The sight of the rope lying at the foot of the tree jogged his memory into sudden activity.
Ichabod uttered a yell. Bill Lilly was outside his tent in a twinkling, followed quickly by the other members of the party, Tad Butler being the last to leave his tent. Tad appeared to be in no great haste.
"What is it, Icha?" shouted Lilly.
"Him—him done gwine away."
"Eh, what?"
"De 'Gator done gwine away, sah."
"Not the prisoner? You don't mean he has escaped?"
"Ya-a-a-a."
The guide covered the ground to the tree in long strides. He halted suddenly upon observing the rope lying where it had been thrown. An ugly expression spread slowly over Bill Lilly's face.
"Has his horse been taken?"
"Yes, the horse is gone too," answered Ned Rector.
"Get ready! We must run him down," shouted Billy.
"What is the use? Why not let him go? He has had his lesson," answered Tad.
"I am of the same opinion," agreed Professor Zepplin. "We did not come down here to chase criminals, but rather to follow the game trails. We have been in the canebrake for some time, and all we have got has been a small doe. My boys want a bear-hunt, Mr. Lilly, not a manhunt."
Billy reflected, tugging at his moustache. In a measure his reputation was at stake. His party simply must get a bear, or his reputation would suffer.
"You shall have a bear," he answered almost savagely.
Tad grinned, well pleased with the decision. As yet no suspicion attached to him. In good time Butler would tell them about it, but there need be no hurry to stir up trouble. The boy smiled to himself. He was happy in his little secret. He felt that Pete had been punished enough, and was sure that they would not be bothered by him again. Pete had had too great a scare to warrant him in annoying them further.
Lilly had grabbed some cold food, and, taking his hound leader with him, started out on horseback, telling the others that he was going out to see if he could locate a trail. He said he would be back before noon. Instead of being away most of the morning the guide was back in an hour.
"I've located a fresh trail," he announced. "It isn't more than an hour old at best. It's a she-bear and a fine one. We'll get this one or know the reason why. I have done the best I could. You know I can't make 'bear sign' if it isn't there. We frequently have to wait for weeks for a good trail. We are lucky in finding this one, for it might have been a young bear, and no great sport."
The boys were all excitement on the instant. They began making hurried preparations for the chase, which all felt was going to result in something worth while.
"Master Tad, I want you to ride back towards Turtle Bayou. You know the way. I think she is heading that way. About a mile before you reach the bayou you will find a ridge of cane leading off to the northwest. It is what is known as the Big Cane Ridge. This she-bear has come over from the southern ridge, and, unless I am much mistaken, she is heading for the Big Ridge. She will stop some time this forenoon for food and rest, and if you take the short cut you ought to get to the ridge ahead of her."
"Do I go alone?"
"Yes, you will make better time. We don't want to lose this one. Once she gets on the Big Ridge we shan't get her at all. Now hustle yourself. Lay your course by the compass two points north of northwest and hold it. That will land you at the exact spot I want you to reach. You will have to use your bush-knife all the way. It's a new trail and a hard one, but you will eat it up."
Tad hastily stowed food in the pockets of his saddle, then looked to his weapons, his rope and his other equipment.
"Don't take any chances in case you should come up with the old she, but shoot and shoot to kill."
"And be sure that you don't get lost," added the Professor.
"I shall leave a trail that can be followed, even if I do lose my way," answered Tad, leaping into his saddle. Swinging his hand in parting salute to his companions he rode away, putting his mount to its best loping run.
Thirty minutes later the rest of the party with the hounds were also riding away to pick up the trail. The dogs were tugging at their leashes before they reached the trail.
"They've got the scent already," cried Lilly. "Now look out for a chase. It is going to be a hard run and a fast ride, but you boys are good for it."
"You bet we are!" shouted the Pony Rider Boys.
"I hope we, instead of Tad Butler, get the bear. He has had enough fun," complained Ned Rector.
"We stand the best chance," answered Lilly. "She will lie down to rest, and during that hour we shall get up to her."
The hounds were released soon after that. They were off with yelps of joy, tearing along the trail with the horses of the Pony Riders close behind them.
"This is a real joy ride," howled the fat boy, his face already flecked with blood, his clothing torn, from contact with brush and low-hanging limbs, for he was riding close up behind the guide.
"No, Tad is having that," corrected Ned. "He hasn't anything to hold him back, either. He can go as fast as he wishes without having to consider anyone else."
By this time the voices of the dogs were to be heard faintly in the distance. A short time later they were too far away to be heard at all.
In the meantime Tad Butler was hewing his way through the cypress swamp, through occasional thin ridges of cane, over rough ground, keeping his muscular little mount down to work every second of the time.
Tad did not have much time to think about anything save the work in hand. He did not know that he was rapidly converging on the trail of the she-bear.
About two o'clock in the afternoon the lad first heard the yelping of the hounds. They seemed to be approaching him obliquely, which in fact they were.
Tad pulled up sharply and listened. After a short time he rode about, getting the lay of the land, trying to decide in his own mind just what course the bear would take and where his best vantage point would be for getting a shot at her. There was no sound of the approach of the Pony Riders. He knew that they had been distanced perhaps by some miles, and that what was done here Tad Butler would be obliged to do on his own account. He now saw the wisdom of Billy Lilly's plan. Billy, too, had given Tad the better end of the chase, which, as Tad believed, had been done with fore-thought. For this Butler was thankful. He wanted to get a bear.
The lad showed his excitement only in his eyes. Otherwise he was cool and deliberate in all his actions.
Suddenly the yelping of the hounds changed. They were sounding a new note. The yelping had given place to deep baying sounds.
"They've got her!" cried the boy, digging the rowels of his spurs into the sides of his mount. The little animal leaped forward and fairly tore through the brush, with the boy urging her on to renewed efforts regardless of the peril to his own person. Butler knew that baying well. He had heard it before, the first time in the Rocky Mountains, and he knew that there was an animal at bay. He was careful to make as little noise as possible. All at once he burst out into an open space where a strange sight met his gaze.
A huge she-bear was lying on the ground, flat on her back, her paws in the air, as a bear at bay frequently does. She was surrounded by a circle of baying dogs, each trying for an opening to get in a vicious bite.
Tad halted in amazement. He at first thought the beast had been wounded. He saw, however, that she was resting, taking her ease, with her paws in the air, regardless of the savage hounds snapping at her haunches.
"Well, of all the cool nerve I ever heard!" exclaimed the boy.
Now and then a hound, more venturesome than the rest, would dive in for a bite, whereupon, quick as a flash, a heavy paw would swing on the animal, sending it tumbling away yelping with pain. So interested was the Pony Rider Boy that it did not occur to him to shoot. He did not know whether or not Mrs. Bruin had seen or scented him. Then, again, it was not any too safe to try a shot at her with the hounds leaping in and out, dodging here and there. When she got up he would get a better sight and a safer shot.
Tad waited several minutes, the bear still taking her ease. She appeared absolutely without fear of the dogs that were nagging her.
"I'm going to stir her up," declared Tad with sudden resolution. He threw his rifle to his shoulder and sat his horse waiting a favorable opportunity to let drive at the old she-bear.
A faint puff of smoke, a detonating crash, woke the forest echoes. Tad's pony, startled, leaped into the air and to one side. The Pony Rider boy, caught wholly off his guard, disappeared from the saddle in a twinkling, landing on the ground.
The boy toppled over and lay still. He was too dazed for the moment to pull himself together.
In the meantime things were taking place before him. The beast had suddenly lunged to her feet, uttering growls of rage, her little eyes fixed on the cause of her distress, on the prostrate boy, a bullet from whose rifle had shattered the bone of her left shoulder.
Suddenly she lunged toward him, pausing to snap and bite at the hounds that were trying to throw themselves upon her, but whom she warded off with paw, her jaws wide open and dripping.
The big she-bear was ambling toward Tad Butler at great speed.