Now half an hour had gone. It was really time he turned back, and headed for the motor boat. That caused Larry to wonder if he could actually figure out which the proper direction might be; so he sat him down on a log for a brief rest, while he carried on his mental calculations. When he started on again Larry actually believed he was pushing straight for camp; when truth to tell he was heading at an angle of thirty degrees away from the same.

Then, as he was stumbling along through the scrub, lo! and behold he saw a moving object ahead. What it was he did not even know as he threw the gun to his shoulder, completely shut his eyes when pulling the trigger, and blazed away.

When he looked again it was to see a big turkey gobbler fluttering along over the ground, with a broken leg and wing. Filled with great joy Larry gave a whoop, and started in pursuit. That was his undoing.

Little he thought of what a chase that stricken gobbler was giving him. In and out of the swampy places, and through the more open woods, he kept in pursuit.

There were times when he actually was so close upon the prize that he began to thrust out his eager hand, bent on capturing the wounded bird. Then, as if given a new lease of life, the turkey would again flutter away, with the panting Larry hot on the track.

More than once he was tempted to give the thing up, he felt so out of breath and exhausted from the heat and his exertions combined. And at such times the miserable bird would squat down on the ground, just as if tempting him to further labor; so once more he would start in pursuit.

The queerest part of the whole affair, as Larry himself realized later on, was that in all this time he utterly forgot that he carried a gun in which there were five more unused shells; and that a dozen times he could have made use of the weapon to finish the flutterings of the sorely stricken turkey.

Finally the desperate bird managed to flap across a swampy stretch, and drop on the opposite patch of firm ground. Larry gave the nearest approach to a cry of victory his depleted lungs would allow; for he saw that the turkey had finally given up the ghost, and died!

But how was he to reach it? As far as he could see the same stretch of quaking bog extended. In patches water even lay upon it; and the balance was black mud.

He tried it here and there, finally striking a spot where it seemed to hold up fairly well under his weight. And so, laying down the precious gun, he started out, intending to pick his way carefully over the muck, under the belief that if he looked he could see where the seeming ridge lay just under the surface.

About the time he got half way across Larry began to have serious doubts as to the wisdom of his course. He seemed to be sinking in deeper all the while, so that he even grew alarmed. Standing still for a minute to look around him, in order to ascertain whether there might not yet be found a safe causeway over to the solid ground where his wild turkey lay so temptingly, he was forced to the humiliating conclusion that it was useless in his keeping on.

Tony, having been born and brought up in the swamps, might know just how to go about the thing; but what could be expected of a new beginner? He must go back, and give up all hopes of ever laying hands on the first game that had ever fallen to his gun as a hunter. And such noble game, too!

Why, Phil would never believe his story. He would have nothing to show for it, not even so much as a feather.

To his horror, when he tried to turn around, he found that he could not lift so much as a foot; and looking down he was startled to see that he had, even while thinking the thing over, sunk in to his knees.

For the first time Larry began to tremble with fright. He had heard of quicksands, and while this black ooze could hardly be called by such a name, it was certainly a quagmire.

Perhaps it did not have any bottom—perhaps he would keep on sinking inch by inch until his head went under! And when Phil and Tony came along later, they might only learn his fate from seeing the gun on one bank, and the dead turkey on the other.

He strained with all his might. Now he managed to get one foot comparatively free; but as all his weight came on the other, that sank down two inches, instead of just one.

Wild with fear Larry started to shouting. At first his voice was strong, for he was thoroughly worked up; but after a little while he found that he was getting husky. So he stopped calling, and devoted himself to finding out whether there might not be some way by means of which he could save himself.

Possibly poor Larry exercised his mind more during the time he was held a prisoner in the clutch of that sticky mud than at any previous span of his whole existence. And he had good reason for alarm. Many an unfortunate fellow has been sucked down by the muck to be found in marsh or swamp, his fate unknown.

As Larry happened to turn his despairing eyes upward, to see whether the sun might be going down, for it seemed to be getting gloomy to him, he made a discovery that gave rise to a newborn hope.

Just over his head, and within reach of his extended hands, the limbs of a tree swung down. It was a live oak that grew on the solid ground near by; and the idea that had flashed into his mind was that perhaps he might tear enough of these same branches down to make a sort of mattress on the surface of the mud, which would even bear his weight temporarily.

Feverishly then did Larry start to breaking off such branches as came within his reach. These he carefully allowed to fall upon the mud in a heap. And he made sure to draw each down just as far as he could before breaking it loose.

But he was sinking all the while, so that he was now down almost to his waist.

Why, his hands actually touched the sticky mire when he, by accident, let them fall at his sides. If this sort of thing kept on, in less than twenty minutes it would be all over with him.

And by now he realized another discouraging fact. Even though he could succeed in making a mat sufficient to bear his weight, how was he to draw his legs, one at a time, out of that adhesive stuff?

He tried it, tried with every atom of strength left in his body; but the effort was a dismal failure. This seemed to be the finishing stroke. Larry had managed to keep his spirits up fairly well, believing that he might somehow drag himself out of his difficulty.

"I can't hardly move," he said to himself, hoarsely. "I'm stuck for fair, and all the while going down, down, slowly but surely. Oh! my goodness! what can I do?"

Looking up he saw that the largest branch was still within reach. A last wild hope flashed upon him—would it be possible for him to seize hold of this, and draw himself out of the hole?

He no sooner conceived this idea than he set about carrying it into execution. Securing a good grip, he started pulling. Strain as he would, he could not gain a particle. The only thing at all encouraging was that while he thus clung to that branch, he did not sink any lower!

Minutes passed. They seemed hours to that imperiled lad. His muscles certainly grew sore with the continuous strain of holding on so desperately, and fighting against the awful suction of the greedy mud.

How long could he hold out? Not many minutes more, he feared, for he was pretty close to the point of exhaustion now. And when nature refused to longer battle for his life he must yield to his fate.

Larry groaned at the outlook before him. Would his chums ever come? Were they still lying around the camp, filled with confidence that the hunter could redeem his boastful words, and return with the greatest of ease? Oh! what a fool he had been to start out alone. Never again would he fancy himself a woodsman, if he were lucky enough to get out of this horrible scrape.

Facing such a serious outlook it was little wonder then that Larry again burst out into shouts, that were hardly more than a mockery, it seemed to him, so hoarse had his voice become, and so incapable of serving him.

But nevertheless those shouts had served their purpose, and reached the listening ears of his comrades.



CHAPTER IX

THE SECOND NIGHT OUT

"Hold fast! we'll soon have you out of that muck!" called Phil, after he and Tony McGee arrived at the edge of the quagmire, where poor Larry was up to his waist in the oozy mud.

Their coming had given the imperiled lad new vim; it seemed to him as though his muscles were renewed, and that he could keep on gripping that branch everlastingly now, such was the fresh faith that took the place of grim despair.

Tony knew just how to go about it. Phil, seeing his lead, started to also throw all sorts of loose leaves and wood upon the surface of the mud.

So fast did they work that in a short time they had a fine covering close up to Larry himself. Thus each of them could get on one side of him, and then heave all together.

"Pull for all you're worth when we give the word," said Phil, as he took a good hold under Larry's left arm, while Tony attended to his right. "Now, all together, yo heave-o! Bully! you moved then, old fellow! Now, once again, yo heave-o! That time you came up two inches, I bet. Don't let him sink back, Tony. A third time now, all in a bunch!"

And so by degrees Larry began to ascend. The further he drew out, the easier the job seemed; until finally they dragged him ashore.

"Oh, my goodness, wasn't that a tight squeeze though!" gasped Larry, sinking on the ground in almost a state of complete collapse.

Phil saw that he was nearly all in, and so instead of scolding him on account of his carelessness, he started in to make humorous remarks, just to get his chum's mind off the terrible nature of his recent adventure.

With sticks they scraped him off, for he was a sorry sight, the black mud clinging to his fine corduroy hunting trousers as far up as his waist. But after all, that was a mighty small matter. His life had been spared, and Larry would not mind having his garments carry the signs of his narrow escape ever afterwards.

"Now to get back to the boat," said Phil, when he found that his comrade had so far recovered that he could walk; though his hands still trembled.

"But wait," said Larry, eagerly. "You surely won't think of going back without that fine turkey over there, will you? It gave me heaps of trouble, and came near costing me dear. The best revenge I can have is to make a meal or two from the plagued old gobbler that tricked me on all this way."

"Oh! Tony's got the royal bird, all right," laughed Phil. "While I finished scraping you off, so you wouldn't have such a load to carry with you, he completed the little bridge of leaves and trash, crossed on it as you should have done in the beginning, and came back. Here's your gobbler; and quite a hefty bird, too. Just lift him once, will you, Larry? And to think that he's your game! But Larry, own up now, did you see him when you fired?"

"I refuse to commit myself," replied the other, with assumed dignity that hardly went with his forlorn appearance. "It's enough that I nailed him, and he's going to fill us up for a meal or two. Lead on, Macduff! I'm able to toddle, I guess."

Tony took his bearings, and then they started. So accurately had the swamp boy judged their location, that he led them almost directly to the boat. And there was great joy in the breast of Larry Densmore when he sank down on the ground to remove his muddy trousers, so that he might not soil the interior of the motor boat.

Fortunately he had another pair along with him, so that by the time Tony had unfastened the cable ashore, and Phil turned his engine over, Larry was decently dressed again.

But it might be noticed that he was not as frisky as usual the balance of that afternoon, being content to cuddle down, and rest. Phil saw a serious look on the usually merry countenance of his chum. He knew from this that Larry had really suffered very much while facing such a doleful end. Nor did he blame him one whit.

Owing to the amount of time that had been consumed in following Larry, and getting him back to camp after his rescue, they could only expect to keep moving for a couple of hours more; when the coming of evening would necessitate their stopping for the next night.

Phil felt a strange little thrill as he reflected that possibly when yet another day had closed in they would have advanced far enough on their journey to admit of a possibility that they might run across some of the shingle-makers of the big swamps.

"Keep on the lookout for a tying-up place, Tony," he said, as he saw that the sun was sinking low.

"Not much good place along here," remarked the swamp boy, shrugging his shoulders in disgust. "Thought we get below this to-day; but stayed too long above."

"Which of course was my fault," spoke up Larry, immediately; "but even if it does look spooky around here, with all that Spanish moss hanging from the trees, we can stand it for one night."

"Sure," said Phil; "especially since we don't have to go ashore, to cook supper. We'll give our little gas stove a try-out this time, and show Tony how well it can fill the bill."

So finally Tony picked out as decent a place as he could find; Phil worked the Aurora close in; the swamp boy sprang ashore in Larry's place holding the rope; and presently the motor boat was snugly moored against the bank.

Larry thought there might be fish around, but lacked the ambition to even make a trial. All his muscles seemed sore by now; and Phil knew that it would be some days ere his chum felt as chipper as was his wont.

"Besides, what's the use?" Larry remarked, even as he mentioned the fact as to the fishy appearance of the water. "We've still got a lot of that bully venison aboard; and that fine turkey Tony is going to bake in his home-made oven ashore. Why, we'll be just filled up with grub, hang the fish! I don't care enough about them just now to bother."

Tony was already ashore, at work on his oven. Just as Phil had described to his tenderfoot chum, he first of all dug out a big hole, and started a hot fire going in it, using the dead leaf stalks of the palmetto as a beginning. Then he fed other wood, which he seemed to select carefully, until he finally had a furious red hot mass of embers there.

Meanwhile he had plucked the turkey, and made it ready for cooking.

"Time we're done eatin' oven be ready," he announced, as Larry called him aboard to supper; he having prepared the meal over the little Jewel stove, finding a way to keep things warm as fast as he cooked them.

Later on Tony drew out all the red ashes. The oven was very hot at that time. He wrapped the turkey in some green leaves, and thrust it into the hole; after which he took pains to cover the opening up, and heap earth over it all.

Of course Phil knew the principle of the thing, though up to now he had never been a witness to the actual demonstration. It acted on the same principle used with the new-fangled bottles that keep fluid hot for several days, or cold, just as it happens to be put into the receptacle. And the fireless cookers are also arranged on the same old time natural laws of retaining heat.

"Listen to the racket coming out over yonder!" remarked Larry, as they lay around at their ease later on, each having a blanket under him.

"Tony says that there's a big swamp lying over there," observed Phil. "And I warrant you he can tell what makes every sound you hear. One comes from some kind of bird squawking; another I happen to know is a night heron looking for a supper along the water's edge; then I suppose coons squabble when they meet, trailing over half sunken logs; a bobcat calls to its mate; the owls tune up; chuckwillswidows, the same birds that we call whippoorwills up North, you know, keep a whooping all the time; and there are all sorts of other noises that might stand for anything. But Tony, tell me, what is that far-away booming we hear?"

"Bull!" remarked the other, with a chuckle.

"You don't mean it?" exclaimed Larry, sitting up to listen. "Well, now, it does sound like it, too. But see here, Tony, didn't you say only a little while ago, that there wasn't a single man within twenty miles of us; unless it might be some runaway darky hiding out in the swamp to escape the chain gang?"

"That is so, Larry," replied the swamp boy, who was by now growing familiar enough with his comrades to call them by their first names. "This no reg'lar bull. It never saw farmyard. It live in water, come up on shore sometime, and holler to make 'nother bull come fight."

"Oh! you mean an alligator bull, don't you?" cried Larry, "how silly of me not to understand at first. And is that one bellowing now? He must be a giant to make such a row."

"Not so big, like ten feet p'raps," replied Tony, carelessly.

"How big do they run—about fifty feet?" asked the ignorant one; at which Tony actually laughed, the first time they had ever really heard him give way.

"Never hear of such big one, Larry. Twelve feet, some say fifteen most. And that professor he tell me 'gator that big more'n two hundred years old, much more!"

"Whew; what a whopper!" exclaimed Larry, though whether he meant the age of the saurian, or the story told to the swamp boy, he did not explain.

"One thing sure," remarked Phil, as the time drew near for them to retire, "with that blessed old swamp, and its many nasty inhabitants so close by, I'm going to keep an eye out again tonight. Perhaps we won't be disturbed by another bobcat; but I wouldn't feel quite easy unless I kept my good Marlin handy. So, boys, if you hear me making a noise again during the night, don't get alarmed. I won't be talking in my sleep, be sure of that. But listen, Tony, what animal do you suppose makes that far-away sound? If I didn't know we were cut off from civilization I'd say it was the baying of a dog at the moon."



CHAPTER X

WHEN THE SLEEPER AWOKE

"That's what it is, sah; a dawg!" said Tony, after listening for a minute.

"Then we must be closer to your people than you thought," remarked Phil.

"That cain't be so. My folks never comes up this far. Yuh see, it sorter lies atween the town up yander, an' our diggin's," the swamp boy explained.

"But how about the dog, then?" Phil went on, becoming curious. "Perhaps it might be a party from the up-river settlements, hunting down here?"

Tony nodded, and something like the ghost of a smile crept athwart his sallow face.

"Huntin'? Yes, sah, that's what it mought be," he said, quickly. "But it's game yuh wouldn't want tuh bag, Phil. Sure enough, they's coon huntin'; but not the kind that has the bushy striped tail."

Phil was quick to grasp his meaning.

"Do you think they're after some fugitive negro? Is that what you mean, Tony?" he demanded; while Larry's innocent blue eyes began to distend, as they always did when their owner felt surprise or alarm.

"Sure," Tony asserted, confidently. "I orter know the bay o' a hound. That dawg is on the trail o' a runaway convict; an' yuh see nigh all the chain gang is black."

They all listened again. Somehow, since learning Tony's opinion, the sound, as it came welling out of the swamp far away, seemed more gruesome than ever. Phil could easily in imagination picture the scene, with a posse of determined keepers from the convict camp following the lead of dogs held in leash, and chasing after a wretched fugitive, who had somehow managed to get away from bondage in the turpentine pine woods.

"Poor critter!" muttered sympathetic Larry. "He's only a coon, and perhaps he deserves all he got; but it makes me shiver to think of his being hunted like a wild beast, all the same."

"Will they get him, do you think, Tony?" asked Phil.

"Don't know. Most always do, some time. Yuh see a feller as runs away like that ain't got no gun nor nothin'. How c'n he git anythin' tuh eat in the swamps? Now, if 'twas one o' us, as has always lived thar, we'd be able to set snares an' ketch game; but a pore ignorant coon don't know nothin'. Sometimes they jest starves tuh death, rather'n give up."

"Then they must be treated worse than dogs," declared Larry; "because no man, white or black, would prefer to lay down and die, to being caught, if he didn't expect to be terribly punished."

Tony shrugged his shoulders at that.

"Don't jest know," he said; "but I heard folks say as how 'twas a bad place, that turpentine camp, whar the convicts they works out their time. Reckon I done heard the dawgs afore, too."

"Something familiar about their baying, is there?" queried Phil.

"They sure belongs tuh the sheriff," Tony declared; "an' he must a be'n called in by them keepers tuh help hunt this runaway convict."

"The sheriff, Tony—do you mean the same fellow you were telling us about, who dared come to the shingle-makers' settlement downriver, and was tarred and feathered, or rather ridden on a rail, with a warning that he'd get the other if he ever showed his face there again?"

"Them's him," said the swamp boy, with a nod. "His name it's Barker, an' he's a moughty fierce man. But let me tell yuh, he ain't been nigh our place sence. Cause why, he knowed the McGee allers keeps his word."

"Do you suppose he'd know you, Tony?" asked Phil.

"Reckons now, as how he would, seein' as how I had tuh bring him his grub that time he was held in our place. He knowed as I was McGee's boy."

"I just asked," Phil went on, "because it struck me that if we should happen to have a call from Sheriff Barker, it might be best for you to keep out of sight. If he's the kind of man you say, he might just trump up some kind of a charge in order to carry you back with him. And once they got you in town, there's Colonel Brashears ready to make a charge against you for licking his cub of a son. How about that, Tony?"

"Reckons as how yuh has struck it 'bout right, sah," replied the other, uneasily. "This Barker, he's the sort tuh hold a grudge a long time. It sorter rankled him tuh be rid out o' the squatter settlement on a rail, an' he an' officer o' the law, with all hands a larfin' an' makin' fun of him. Never seen anybody so tearin' mad. He swore he'd come back with a company o' sojers, an' clean us out. But it's be'n a heap o' moons now, sah; an' I take notice Barker he ain't never showed up yit."

"If the runaway negro only knew that, I suppose he'd make straight for your settlement; because he'd be safe there from the sheriff?" suggested Phil.

"That don't foller, sah," the swamp boy immediately replied. "We-uns ain't gwine tuh let all sorts o' trash settle among us. The McGee ain't settin' hisself up ag'in law an' order. He don't want no fight with the hull State. More'n a few times they be a 'scaped convict hit our place; but McGee, he wouldn't allow o' his stayin' longer'n tuh git a meal, an' p'raps an ole gun, so's he could shoot game. Then he had tuh beat it foh the coast; an' was told that if he war ever caught inside ten mile o' our place he'd be give over tuh the sheriff."

"The baying seems to have stopped, now," remarked Larry.

"Reckon as how the dawgs has lost the trail," Tony explained. "Yuh see, they's so much water around hyah that heaps o' times even the sharpest nose cain't keep track o' a runaway coon. But if so be it's Barker along with them keepers, he'll keep agwine to the last minit. He's a stayer, he is, I tell yuh."

A little later they prepared to go to sleep. There was ample room for Phil and Larry to make up their primitive beds on the seats of the launch. Arrangements looking to this had been made in the beginning. True, it was always a chance as to whether one of them in turning over while he slept, might not roll off the elevated couch, and bring up at the bottom of the boat; but they provided against this by raising the outer edge of their mattress—really a doubled blanket over the seat cushions.

When Tony joined them it was a question just where he might find room to sleep. Not that the swamp boy was at all particular; for he could have snuggled down on deck, or found rest in a sitting posture; for he was used to roughing it.

On the preceding night they had tried having him occupy the bottom of the craft; and it had seemed to work well; but Tony evidently could not breathe freely when stowed away like so much cargo. So he had asked the privilege of taking his blanket, and making himself comfortable on the forward deck.

Thus it happened that his head was not far removed from that of Phil, when the latter stretched himself out on his shelf, with his feet toward the stern.

Larry was already breathing heavily, for he had the happy faculty, which Phil often envied, of going to sleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. Nor in making use of this word is reference made to some time in the past, when the two young cruisers were at home in their comfortable beds. Each of them owned a rubber pillow, which on being inflated, afforded an easy headrest; and during the day took up very little room, the air being allowed to escape in the morning.

On the first night out Larry had disdained to follow the example of his more experienced chum, who had covered his rubber pillow with a towel. Consequently Larry found that his face burned and itched all day, from the drawing effect of the bare rubber; and on this occasion Phil noted with secret satisfaction that the other was very particular to emulate his example. Experience is the best guide; and Larry would never forget the unpleasant sensation he had endured because of declining to take pattern from the actions of the "one who knew."

The last thing Phil remembered hearing ere he went to sleep was that concert from the neighboring swamp. The alligator bull had started in to bellow again, as though pleading with some rival to come around and try conclusions; and the sound was very strange, surrounded as they were by such a wilderness.

Accustomed as he was to a delightful hair mattress, of course Phil would have found it rather hard to have only a doubled blanket between the boards and himself, as Tony was doing; while he and Larry enjoyed the benefit of the cushions with which the side seats of the launch were furnished; and which, being covered with panasote, were supposed to act as life preservers should they be cast into the water. But Tony never minded it in the least. He assured them he had many times slept comfortably, perched on the limb of a tree.

Still, Phil was a light sleeper. While his chum might never awaken once during a night, Phil generally turned over every hour or so. And he had fallen into the habit, so general among old campers, of raising his head and taking an observation at such times.

Finding all well, he would lie back again, and fall into a new sleep.

He remembered doing this at least twice on this night in question. Each time it seemed to him that all was well. He could hear the various noises coming out of the swamp, and forming such a weird chorus; but they signified nothing in the way of peril. And by degrees Phil was growing accustomed to listening to the strange conglomeration.

A third time he awoke, and it struck him instantly that on this occasion he had not come out of his sleep wholly of his own accord. Something seemed to be pulling at him—it would stop for a few seconds only to go on again, and Phil noted that this tugging was wholly confined to the shoulder of his coat, which he had not discarded when he lay down, as the night air was cool.

At first a thrill passed through him. Possibly he remembered that bull 'gator with the hoarse bellow; or bethought him of certain yellow moccasin snakes Larry had noticed in the water of the stream, coming from the swamp, no doubt.

Then something touched his face, tapping him gently. Instinctively he put up his hand, and immediately felt fingers. Why, it must be Tony! Had the other thrown his arm up while sleeping, and in this way managed to arouse him; or was his action intentional?

Phil was just trying to decide which it could be, when a sound came to his ear that caused his heart to almost stop beating for a brief period; some one or some animal was certainly creeping under the curtains of the motor boat, seeking to enter!



CHAPTER XI

AN UNINVITED GUEST

Phil knew that Tony must have discovered this significant movement, and believed it his duty to arouse the one who might be depended on to meet the situation.

Could it be some wild animal that was trying to get in at their provisions? Listening, Phil believed he could catch the sound of half suppressed breathing. Then the fumbling began again, as though a body were being drawn under the canvas curtain.

It was time he were acting. So he allowed his fingers to give those of Tony a reassuring squeeze; after which he reached out his arm. His faithful Marlin must be there on the floor of the cockpit, just where he had placed it before lying down. And when he felt the familiar sensation of the cold steel barrel, he knew he had the situation well in hand.

Suddenly a wild cry arose. It had come from the lips of Tony, as Phil instantly understood; and was immediately followed by a threshing sound, as of two bodies rolling and scrambling about on the forward deck of the little cruiser.

Evidently the fearless little swamp lad had thrown himself on the intruder, whom his keen eyes had made out to be a human being, and not a panther, as Phil had at one time suspected might prove to be the case.

Phil immediately scrambled off his seat and to his feet. It was not actually dark under the cover, for the moon still shone. He could just manage to see the tumbling figures on the deck, as Tony clung to the unknown intruder with the tenacity of a cat.

Larry had rolled into the cockpit, and was trying his best to disengage himself from his blanket, which he had somehow managed to get twisted around his bulky figure. So far as any help from that quarter might go, there was no use expecting it; for Larry was certainly in a dreadful panic, not knowing what it all meant; and perhaps thinking that he was about to be kidnapped.

"Don't hit me, massa; I gives in, 'deed an' 'deed I does!" wailed a voice that could only belong to a terrified negro.

"Lie still, you!" cried Phil, thinking it best to take part in the row. "I've got you covered with a gun, and can blow the top of your head off. Not another move, now, d'ye hear!"

Of course the intruder had no means of knowing that those in the tied-up motor boat were mere boys. He heard the one word "gun," and that settled the matter.

Phil thought fast. He had no doubt but that this fellow must indeed be the man the sheriff and his posse were hunting with hounds. He was an escaped convict, from the turpentine camp, where the chain gang worked out their various sentences under the rifles of the guards.

Perhaps after temporarily eluding his pursuers the fellow had happened on the boat as it lay there alongside the bank. He was possibly nearly starved; and rendered desperate by his condition had determined to attempt to steal some food, taking his very life in his hands in order to do so.

Phil knew just where a lantern lay. And he always carried plenty of matches on his person, so as to be provided in case he became lost in the wilderness at any time.

So he now decided to have some light on the subject. At the crackling of his match the negro uttered a low whine, and began to struggle slightly again, possibly fearing that he was about to be shot.

"Keep still, now!" cried Tony, knocking the fellow's head smartly on the planks of the deck; for he was sprawled out on the intruder's chest.

Phil, having succeeded in lighting the lantern, held it up. The first thing he saw was the frightened face of the escaped convict. Somehow it sent a pang through the heart of the boy, for he had never in all his life looked on a human countenance that was stamped with suffering as that black one seemed to be.

"Let him up, Tony; I've got the gun, and will keep him covered!" he said.

The swamp boy obeyed. Perhaps he hardly thought it wise of Phil to act as he did, for it might be noticed that the first act of Tony was to pick up the hatchet, and keep it handy.

Larry had finally succeeded in unwinding that blanket from around his person. He was staring at them as though he could hardly believe the whole thing were not a nightmare.

"Sit up, you!" Phil repeated; and the negro obeyed.

It was plain that astonishment was beginning to share the element of fear in his face, when he saw that his captors were three half-grown boys instead of gruff men. And perhaps for the first time a glimmer of wild hope began to struggle for existence in the oppressed heart of the runaway.

"What's your name?" asked Phil, sternly.

"Pete Smith, sah," replied the other, in a quavering tone.

"You escaped from the convict camp, and it was you they were hunting with the dogs, wasn't it?" the boy went on.

"Reckons as how 'twar, sah."

"How long ago did you run away?" Phil continued, bent on finding out all the circumstances connected with the case before deciding what to do.

"I dunno, 'zactly, sah. Mout a ben six days. 'Pears tuh me like it ben de longes' time eber. Ain't hed hardly a t'ing tuh eat in all dat time, massa. Jest gnawin' in heah, an' makin' me desprit. Clar tuh goodness I knowed I must git somethin', or it was sure all ober wid me. 'Scuse me, sah, foh breakin' in disaway. I'se dat hungry I c'd eat bran! But if so be yuh on'y lets me go I'll neber kim back ag'in neber."

"But you would get something to eat if you gave yourself up to the sheriff?"

The negro shuddered.

"I sooner die in de swamp dan do dat, honey," he said, between his white teeth. "Dey got a grudge ag'in me ober dar in de turpentine camp, 'case I took de part ob a pore sick niggah what was bein' whipped, 'case he couldn't wuk. Dey says it's laziness, but I knowed better. He died arter dat. But de head keeper, he got it in foh me, an' he make it hard. I runned away at de fust chanct; an' I jest shorely knows dat he next door tuh kill me if he gits me back."

"What were you there for?" asked Phil, feeling more kindly toward the wretched fugitive after hearing what he said, even though it may not have been wholly true.

"'Case I war a fool, massa; I 'mits dat," returned the other, humbly. "Cudn't nohow leab de juice alone. I libed in Tallahassee, an' uster be a 'spectable pusson till I gits drinkin'. Den I got inter a row, when a man was hurted bad. Dey sent me to de camp foh a yeah; an' it ain't half up yit. But I'se gwine tuh gib dem de slip, er drap down in de swamp, dat's what."

"Larry," called out Phil, "wasn't there a lot of stuff left over from supper?"

"Right you are, Phil. Shall I get it out?" asked the other, whose heart had been touched by what he heard; for Larry was a sympathetic sort of a chap, who could not bear to witness suffering, and might be easily deceived by any schemer.

"Yes," Phil went on, quietly. "This poor fellow is pretty hungry. We'll feed him first; and while he eats decide what we had ought to do about his case."

"Oh! bress yuh foh dat, young massa!" exclaimed the man who had been chased by the dogs and the sheriff's posse. "I done nebber forgits yuh, nebber. An' if so be I is lucky enuff tuh git out ob dis scrape I 'clar tuh goodness I nebber agin touch a single drap o' de bug juice. It done gets me in dis trouble foh keeps, an' it ain't nebber ag'in gwine tuh knock me down!"

"That sounds all right, Pete," remarked Phil, "if only you can keep your word. If you got clear you could never go back to Tallahassee again?"

"No sah, not 'less I sarve my time out. It's disaway, sah. I done got a brudder ober near Mobile, an' I war athinkin' dat if on'y I cud get away I'd go tuh him. Den in time he'd send foh my wife and de chillen tuh come ober."

"Oh! then you have a family, have you? How many children, Pete?" asked Phil.

"Seben, sah, countin' de twins as is on'y piccaninnies yet."

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Larry, who had been eagerly listening while getting the leftover food out of the place where he had placed it. "What a crowd! And how could they get a living all the six months you've been in the turpentine camp, Pete?"

"Dunno, sah," replied the negro; "specks as how Nancy she dun hab tak in de washin' ag'in. Ain't dun nothin' ob de sort dis ten yeahs; but she kin do hit right smart, sah."

That was the last word Pete could be expected to speak for some time; for he was busily engaged stuffing himself with the food Larry thrust before him.

It was a singular sight, and one that Phil would doubtless often recall with a lively sense of humor. The lantern lighted up the tent of the motor boat, showing the emaciated black devouring the food about like a starving wolf might be expected to act; and the three watching boys, Phil still gripping his Marlin, Tony the hatchet, and Larry another tin dish with more "grub."

Meanwhile Phil was wondering what they ought to do. He did not like to break the law; but it seemed to him that in this case he would be amply justified in assisting the runaway convict. He had surely worked long enough to have served as atonement for his crime; and the call of those seven little children was very loud in Phil's ears.

So he made up his mind that he would place a small amount in Pete's hand before sending him away, besides some more food. And he might at the same time be given a hint that if he only headed directly south along the river, the sheriff would not be apt to follow him far, since he dared not tempt the terrible McGee by infringing on the territory of the squatter chieftain.

So they waited for the hungry man to eat his fill. And Pete, now that he no longer felt the pangs of approaching starvation, looked at Phil out of the corners of his eyes, as though trying to guess what the "young massa" was planning to do about disposing of his case.



CHAPTER XII

THE SHERIFF AND HIS "DAWGS"

"Do you see that package, Pete?" asked Phil, after he had talked with Larry for a few minutes, and pointing at a bundle the latter had made up.

"Yas, sah, I does."

"Well, I'm not going to tell you to take it; but after you're gone, I expect to find it missing. Do you think you understand?" asked the boy, grinning.

Pete looked puzzled, and scratched his woolly head.

"Yuh 'pears tuh not want me tuh take hit; and den ag'in yuh 'spects me to kerry hit off when I'se gwine away! Yas, sah, I sees what yuh means," he answered; though the blank look on his dusky face belied his assurance.

"You see," Phil continued, soberly; "if the sheriff should happen to come along we would tell him somebody had taken a package of food from the boat during the night. Understand? His dogs would be apt to pick up your trail here, anyhow; and that might be a give-away."

"Oh! yas, sah, I gits on now," said the late prisoner eagerly. "An' it sure is a good thing foh me as how I runs acrost yuh gemmons dis same night. On'y foh dat I done drap in de swamps. I takes de grub, but I don't let you-uns knows hit."

"And when you start off, circle around and make for the south," Phil went on. "Perhaps, now, you may have heard of the McGees, who make shingles down below? Well, this boy is Tony McGee. If you're lucky enough to get to their settlement, which is on the river, he'll help you further. Here's a little money for you, Pete. I'm giving it to you just because you say you're going to turn over a new leaf if you get safe to Mobile. And perhaps some time I'll look you up, or write to your brother; because we're interested in that family of yours. What's his name, Pete?"

"Oscar Smith, in keer ob Mistah Underhill, sah. An' I suah is mighty much 'bliged tuh yuh foh dis. I's gwine tuh do what yuh tells me; dough I war a tryin' tuh git away by keepin' tuh de west."

"Well, you'll have a better chance by going down river, and I'll tell you why, Pete;" after which Phil explained how the sheriff of this county in Northern Florida had reason to shun the neighborhood where the fierce McGees held forth.

"If I knowed dat afore, massa," said the negro, earnestly, "I done be down dar by now, an' alarfin' fit to die at dat sheriff. But I make a circle 'round right now, an' git a start. I done feels dat much better sense I gets a squar' meal dat I kin keep a movin' 'long all right smart de rest ob de night."

"Then perhaps you had better be getting along now, Pete," said Phil. "You see, we can't tell but what the posse might happen on us any time; and the further you're away when that comes to pass, the better. Shake hands with me, Pete. And don't forget that we believe you when you say you're meaning to walk a straight line after this."

The astonished fugitive had tears running down his thin cheeks when he felt the warm hearty clasp of Phil Lancing's hand. Nor was Larry going to be left out.

"Shake with me too, Pete," he said, thrusting his chubby hand out. "I haven't said much, but to everything my chum remarked I'm on. And I cooked that grub, Pete. Good luck to you! I hope you've had your lesson, and it's never again for yours."

"Now we'll turn our backs, while you disappear, Pete; so none of us can see you go," said Phil, suiting the action to his words.

"God bress youse, honey, bofe ob youse!" the man muttered, brokenly.

They heard a movement, a shuffling sound; then presently all became silent once more, and laughingly the boys turned around.

"It's gone!" declared Larry, pretending to be greatly surprised. "Some miserable thief has come, and swiped a lot of our grub! Just think of the colossal nerve of the thing, would you, Phil?"

"Let's go to sleep again," was the only remark of the other, as he started to fasten down the bottom of the curtains.

"But suppose the sheriff drops in on us?" remarked Larry, who looked forward to such a possibility with a little of dread.

"Let him come," chuckled Phil. "You can tell him how we had a package of food taken. He'll understand then what his dogs have found, when they strike the scent of Pete. But I expect that the fellow will find plenty of ways for killing his trail between now and morning. He's got a new lease of life, Pete has; and mark my words, no sheriff's posse is ever going to overhaul him from this on."

So saying Phil began to make himself comfortable again. Larry proceeded to fix his own bed afresh; and when he pronounced himself ready his chum put out the lantern.

In all, not more than half an hour had elapsed since Phil felt that first touch from the swamp boy; and yet how much had happened in that short time. The Northern voyagers had passed through a new and novel experience; and there was Black Pete hastening through the woods, and through the swamps bound south, with hope once more filling his troubled breast.

There was no further alarm during the remainder of that night, and the boys were getting breakfast when Tony uttered an exclamation.

"Look! they are comin' down below! That is Barker at the head!" he muttered.

"Drop down in the bottom of the boat, Tony," Phil hastened to say; for it had all been arranged beforehand what their programme might be.

Larry jumped ashore to unfasten the cable, while his chum hastened to pay attention to his motor, so as to get the power on without delay.

Some distance away they could see a party of men advancing. In front trailed a pair of tawny hounds, straining at their leashes, and evidently following some sort of trail.

A distant shout announced that these parties had discovered the boat; but the boys at first paid no attention to the hail. It was only after they had started from their late landing place that they pretended to have discovered the coming file of men; and Phil answered their shouts with a wave of his hat.

The sheriff was a typical Southerner. He wore a broad-brimmed hat; and had on a long coat; which, being open in front disclosed the heavy revolver which he carried next his hip.

Each one of his three companions had a gun of some sort. Possibly they were the guards from the turpentine camp, searching for the fugitive convict. Taken all in all the quartette of men presented a very fierce appearance; and Phil felt relieved to know that poor Pete was not fated to fall into their clutches. The fugitive had given them a heap of trouble, and in case of capture could expect little mercy.

The sheriff stepped to the edge of the bank, and made motions as though he wished the voyagers to come in; but Phil had no intention of doing so. He really feared that the law officer might be tempted to carry Tony off, just to get even with his father, the terrible McGee, whom he did not dare face again.

Phil did reverse the engine, however, so that the Aurora might drift slowly past the spot where the sheriff was standing. Plainly the other desired to have a few words with those aboard.

"Hello! gents!" called the officer, with his hands forming a megaphone, so that his voice might carry the more readily. "I'm the sheriff of this heah county; and this is my posse. We's huntin' a desprit convict that got loose from the camp a week back, by name Pete Smith. He's been headin' up thisaway, as the dogs allow; and p'raps now yuh might a-seen somethin' of him."

Phil pretended to look at Larry as though surprised.

"I bet you it must have been him, Larry!" he said, in a voice loud enough to be heard on shore; and then turning to the sheriff he went on: "Some sort of critter sneaked into our boat last night, sir, and made way with a lot of our grub. Guess it must have been the runaway you mention."

"And my goodness! did you hear him say it was a desperate convict, Phil?" cried the innocent Larry, showing all the signs of alarm. "Why, he might have murdered us while we slept! Oh! what a narrow escape!"

They were now opposite the sheriff, and still drifting with the current, though held back by the turning of the screw.

"Say, what's that about a thief gettin' away with some of your grub?" called out the officer, excitedly. "Whar was you campin' at the time? Didn't we see you tied up tuh the bank yonder, whar that palmetto bends down like? Tell me that, younkers! It's a heap important, yuh see, that my dawgs pick up the scent fresh, though I spect they's on to it right now."

"Yes, we spent last night there, Mr. Sheriff, right where you see that palmetto. Hope you have all the luck you deserve!" Phil sent back over the widening water.

"You'd better look sharp below aways. They's a hard crowd down in that region, the McGee clan o' law breakers and squatters. They'll clean yuh out, if yuh stop off nigh 'em. That's a warnin', younkers. If so be yuh meet old McGee, tell him Bud Barker ain't forgot, an' in time he's acomin' back!"

Tony could hardly keep from rising up, and shaking his fist after the enemy of his father, when these threatening words floated to his ears. But Phil pulled him down before his presence was discovered by the sheriff.

The last they saw of Barker he was pushing after his dogs, pellmell, doubtless in the belief that he would get on the track of Pete again when they arrived at the palmetto tree.

"Do you really suppose that what he says is true, and Pete's a regular pirate?" asked Larry, in a troubled voice.

"Well, not any so you could notice," laughed Phil. "In fact, after seeing the make-up of the fierce fire-eating sheriff, I'm more than ever glad I gave poor old Pete the glad hand, and helped him on his way. Perhaps he may not have such a raft of piccaninnies as he said, but anyhow I'm pretty sure he deserved to be given one more chance to make good."

"Oh! I'm so glad to hear you say that, Phil," cried Larry. "I was afraid that we had made a bad break. But, my! wasn't Mr. Barker a fierce looking gent, though?"



CHAPTER XIII

IN THE CYPRESS COUNTRY

During the morning they talked often of the occurrence of the previous night. Phil no longer felt any qualms of conscience, on account of what he had done. And he really hoped Pete would get clear of the posse. There had been something in the face of the negro that impressed both boys with a sense of his honesty. He had been sent to the convict camp simply because he was unlucky enough to be in a fight. Had he been a common thief it might have looked different to Phil.

And while Tony McGee might not be able to grasp all the fine points in the matter, he could understand that these two new friends of his had warm, boyish hearts; and he often looked at them with growing affection when neither Phil nor Larry believed he was at all concerned about their affairs.

Then that old troubled expression would flit back again, to hold dominion over Tony's face. That was when he tried to imagine what his father's actions might be, after he learned that one of these lads was really the son of Dr. Lancing, the rich land owner, against whom he had so strong a grudge that he would have been sorely tempted to kill him, did the millionaire but venture into the land of the squatter shingle-makers.

They tied up again at noon, taking Tony's advice. Phil could plainly see that the swamp boy, acting as pilot of the little expedition, was trying to time their progress so as to hit a certain place toward nightfall.

"What d'ye think of it?" asked Larry, when Tony having wandered off with the gun to see if he could find some "partridges," the two could exchange words without being overheard.

"About Tony, do you mean?" queried his companion, easily guessing what was worrying Larry.

"Yes. He asked us not to leave here until about the middle of the afternoon; and then he sprung that idea on us, of stepping out to see if he could scare up any game. You don't imagine for a minute, do you, Phil, that he means to betray us to his friends, and get us into trouble?"

"Rats! You don't dream of believing that yourself, now. But I saw just as you did, that he wanted to hold us here a certain time. And it wouldn't surprise me one little bit if Tony failed to come back until a couple of hours had gone," and while saying this Phil looked wise, which fact struck his chum as particularly exasperating, seeing that he was so consumed with curiosity.

"Then do take pity on me, and tell me right away what you think," said Larry; "because I can see in your face that you've guessed something."

"Well, of course you've heard Tony try to convince me lots of times that it would be foolish in our stopping off to see his father?" Phil said to begin with.

"Yes, I have," replied Larry, promptly. "First of all he wanted us to turn back. Then, when he saw that you just wouldn't, he asked why not keep right on past his place."

"Just so," remarked Phil. "And I've got a notion right now that Tony is holding us back so that we will just have to do some traveling after dark tonight. Perhaps he'll find some excuse for it, by saying there is no decent stopping place. And in that way the boy may hope to coax us past the dangerous point where the squatters have their settlement."

"But you won't consent, Phil; I just know you too well to believe it," cried Larry.

"Well, not so you can see it," came the positive reply. "When I embarked on this cruise I knew just what I was up against. I understood that McGee was feeling bitter against my dad; but I believe the message I'm carrying him will knock all his animosity to flinders. And not even Tony must upset my plans."

The time crept on. An hour had passed since Tony went away. They had heard several distant shots in quick succession, and Larry was filled with hope that his craving for "quail on toast" might be finally made an accomplished fact; though just where the latter article was to come from might have puzzled any one, since their last scrap of bread had long since vanished from mortal view.

Another hour seemed almost exhausted, and Larry began to grow uneasy.

"He's got your new gun along, Phil," he remarked.

"That's so," smiled the other, who did not seem one whit disturbed by the non-appearance of the swamp boy; "but don't you believe that cuts any figure in his keeping away. I've been studying Tony right along, ever since we met him first; and I'd stake a heap on his fidelity. He has come to care for us, too. I could see that by the way he watches us, and the light in his eyes at times. But there he comes right now, Larry; and he's holding up some game you like right well."

"It's quail all right, and a fine bunch of the little darlings, too!" exclaimed the cook of the expedition, his face relaxing into a happy grin; and all doubts immediately vanished from his mind.

Tony came slowly into camp. Phil noticed that there was a serious look on his face, as though more than ever the swamp boy might be troubled in his mind. Which fact gave Phil a rather startling idea.

Could it be possible that Tony had met with any of the squatters during his little side hunt? And suppose this to have been the case, what had happened between them? Of course they must know that Tony had gone up-river with his little blind sister, so that his presence near the home settlement would arouse both their curiosity and suspicions.

They must also notice the wonderful pump-gun he was carrying; and that again would be likely to cause them to demand an explanation. Would Tony tell all that had happened to him? And might the news be thus carried ahead of their coming to the terrible McGee, that the son of the rich man he hated so bitterly was even now in his power?

But Tony said nothing. He was far from being talkative at any time, and just now he seemed to shut up as "tight as a clam," as Larry expressed it aside to his chum.

They started down the now wide stream. Since the boys first commencing this eventful voyage two days back, the river had received many additions in the way of smaller creeks, so that it was now pouring quite a volume of water along toward the gulf.

And it was easy to see from the nature of the frequent swamps bordering the banks that they were drawing near the great cypress belt where the shingle-makers held forth in all their glory, defying eviction on the part of any owner of the territory.

It was about the latter part of the afternoon when Larry called attention to a man on the shore. He was standing on a hamak, and held an old gun in his hands, as though he might have been hunting up this way, and his dugout not far off.

The fellow was far from prepossessing looking, to say the least. His garments were of dingy homespun, and his beard gave him the appearance of a tramp. But of course Phil realized that he must belong to the settlement toward which they were gradually drawing closer with every mile passed over. And if so surely Tony would know him.

He noticed that the man was staring at them as they glided past, with the motor slowed down to its lowest ebb; as Tony had requested that they only keep with the current. And turning toward the swamp boy he saw him make some sort of sign to the man—it might be merely a wave of recognition; and again there may have been a deeper significance connected with it.

"You knew him, then, Tony?" asked Phil, trying to seem indifferent.

"Oh! yes, sure," replied the other, quickly. "That was Gabe Barker."

"Barker!" exclaimed Phil, "any relation to our friend the sheriff, now?"

"Yep, that's the funny part o' it," replied Tony, with a slight smile. "Gabe an' the sheriff be full cousins. But all the same, Gabe he helped to carry the pole when they ride t'other Barker out o' the settlement. They has a feud you see, his fambly an' that o' the sheriff."

"But Gabe is one of the McGee clan now, isn't he?" pursued Phil.

"He's be'n, nigh on seven year," Tony admitted. "Think he licked the father o' the sheriff, and hed tuh cut stick an' run afore they got 'im."

"Why d'ye suppose he didn't call out to you?" asked Phil; who really considered this the most sinister part of the entire proceeding; for according to his way of thinking it would have been the natural thing for a man to have done under such circumstances.

Tony allowed that queer little smirk to creep over his face again.

"Gabe he would like to much, on'y he couldn't," he said.

"Why, I didn't see anybody stopping him!" ejaculated Larry.

Tony made a movement toward his mouth, and then observed:

"Gabe he not say much now for five years. Used tuh curse more'n three men. Then a tree he was cutting down fell wrong way. Gabe he caught underneath. Bite tongue off and near die when McGee find him. So he makes talk with hands since that time."

"Oh! what d'ye think of that, now?" cried the wondering Larry. "Pretty tough on that long-legged Gabe, for a fact. No wonder then, he didn't call out to you, and ask all those questions I could see on his face."

"Tony, do you suppose now that Gabe came up the swift river in his dugout, which I noticed floating on the water near where he stood on that rise?" asked Phil, with a reason for the query.

The swamp boy looked uneasily at him, but answered at once.

"No, current too strong. We come this far through swamp. I paddle so when I take little sister up-river. That place whar Gabe stand hide entrance to swamp."

"And how long do you suppose it would take Gabe, if he started right away, to get back to the settlement?" Phil continued.

"After sundown, an' afore dark," the other answered. "River turn many times, but through swamp it is easy to go straight away."

"Then unless we started up, and ran for it, Gabe could get there sooner than our motor boat; is that a fact, Tony?"

"Yes," replied the swamp boy, with a sigh, "Gabe get there first, anyhow!"



CHAPTER XIV

LARRY PICKS UP SOME MORE POINTERS

Although the boys had left their stopping place that morning in something of a hurry upon sighting the advancing posse of the sheriff, it must not be supposed for one minute that they had forgotten all about the treat they had been anticipating in the way of breakfast.

Larry had it firmly fixed in his mind; and as soon as he could coax Tony to go ashore, the swamp boy and himself had opened the primitive oven in which they had placed the noble turkey.

It was found done to a turn, cooked beautifully by the heat that had been retained all through the night. Possibly the boys missed the customary brown, outside appearance, such as they had always seen in a fowl roasted in an ordinary oven; but for all that it was delicious.

Larry had gone into ecstasies when enjoying the meal; which was eaten while on the way down the river; the coming of Barker and his following having started the expedition suddenly.

And many times during that day had Larry referred to the great luck that had befallen him during his grand hunt. He would never cease to plume himself on having actually bagged that king bird of the American forest, and which is usually so timid that only the most experienced hunter can secure such a trophy.

"And," he would say, as he picked a drumstick at noon with the keenest of relish, "our good luck didn't stop with my having bagged the gobbler, either."

"That's a fact," Phil had remarked; "our coming on the spot had considerable to do with this lunch we're making right now. Because, only for that, it might be a funeral feast instead of a joy spread, eh, Larry?"

"Well, that's just about right, Phil," the fat youth had replied, turning just a shade paler than usual, although on account of his rosy hue this fact could hardly be noticed, to tell the truth; "but I wasn't thinking of that; and please don't mention it too often, for it's apt to take my appetite away."

"Then tell us what you did mean?" demanded his chum.

"I was thinking first of all how fortunate for us that the delicious odor of our cooking turk didn't ooze out from the oven," Larry went on.

"Oh! now I catch on to what's on your mind," laughed Phil. "You're thinking of our colored friend, Pete Smith, the chap with the seven piccaninnies?"

"That's what I am, Phil. What if he had caught the odor of that noble bird in his half starved condition?"

"Whose—the bird's?" queried Phil, wickedly.

"Oh! no, you know I mean Pete," replied Larry, quite unruffled. "Don't you suppose he'd have followed his nose, and discovered how we'd placed the turkey away so neatly? And he'd have uncovered him, and run away with the whole show. That would have not only cheated us out of our breakfast and lunch; but have also lost us a chance for doing a noble deed."

"Hear! hear! I see you're bringing your Boy Scout training down to Florida with you, Larry. And I wager you never let a sun go down without having done something to make a fellow critter happier. But stop and think, it was only midnight when Pete gave us that call, wasn't it?"

"Somewhere about that time, I guess; but why?" Larry asked.

"Don't you see," Phil went on positively; "the oven couldn't have more than half done its work by then; so even if Pete had gobbled the gobbler he'd have had to eat him partly cooked. Not that Pete would have objected very much to that, for he was too near the starving point to kick. Now, my opinion is, we had greater luck because we dug up our breakfast as early as we did."

"How's that, Phil? What has the early bird got to do with the worm; or the worm with the early bird, as it is in this case?"

"Why, you must remember that we had to quit in something of a hurry," laughed Phil. "If our turkey was still in the oven don't you suppose those dogs would have nosed it out in a jiffy after they arrived? And we couldn't turn back to claim our game. That posse would have feasted on the fruits of your great hunt."

In spite of Larry's love for argument, based upon the fact that he expected to some day become a lawyer like his father, he was compelled to admit that in this case Phil had the best of it.

And so the bones of the turkey were polished off in the middle of the day; with every one declaring that it had been a great treat. Larry kept the two drumsticks as well as the wings of the gobbler. Possibly he might many a time feel a queer little sensation creeping up and down his spinal column as memory carried him back again to that slough, where the treacherous black mud was slowly but surely sucking him down.

And now the sun was creeping closer and closer to the western horizon; and they must soon come to a stop for the night; unless, as Phil rather suspected, Tony had conceived some sort of wild idea as to influencing them to keep right on, so that he could run them past the settlement of the shingle-makers in the darkness.

Of course there was bound to be a moon, for it even now hung low in the eastern heavens, being well on toward the full; and, as boys accustomed to the woods well know, a full moon always rises above a level horizon just at sunset. But clouds floated in patches across the sky, and it might be they would obscure this heavenly luminary long enough for Tony's purposes.

But Phil was equally determined not to let the swamp boy try to run them past. He had come far to carry out his purpose; and could not bring himself to believe that it might fail utterly. Much as he had heard about the fierce nature of the giant, McGee, chief of the clan, he had faith to believe that even such a rugged and almost savage character might be subdued, if one went about it in the right way.

"We must be looking for a place to haul up, Tony," Phil finally said, in his most determined tone.

The swamp boy looked almost heart-broken upon hearing him say this. He gritted his teeth together, and frowned. Phil knew what must be passing in his mind; and how poor Tony felt, that in obeying the wishes of this new friend, he was acting as a decoy, to betray the son of the hated Dr. Lancing into the hands of those who would treat him roughly.

Tony shook his head and sighed. Then, as if making up his mind that there was no other course for him to pursue, he tried to smile cheerfully. Perhaps he still hoped that if the worst came, he might find another arrow in his quiver to use. Perhaps he relied somewhat on the influence of his mother, she who had once been a school teacher in a city, before she came to marry this chieftain of the McGee clan.

"Just as yuh say, Phil," he remarked, meekly. "If we have tuh tie up, reckons as how it could be did 'round hyah as well as anywhar else. Yuh see thar's swamp nigh everywhar 'bout, now—nothin' but cypress in this part o' the kentry. So, when yuh say so, we'll get a hitch 'round a tree, an' stop."

"Looks to be a likely place ahead there," remarked Larry, who had been amusing himself with a pair of marine glasses Phil had brought along with him; and which promised to be particularly useful, once the motor boat reached the big waters of the gulf.

"Yep!" sang out Tony, who had such keen vision that he found no need of glasses to assist him, "they's some land thar too, which makes it right decent. If so be yuh feel that yuh must stop, Phil, that's a shore good place."

And so they headed in for the landing selected, after navigating the stream for a short time longer. The sun had not yet gone down, though under the tall cypress trees, with their great clumps of gray hanging Spanish moss that looked like trailing banners, it was even then beginning to grow a little dusky.

Gently running alongside the bank, the Aurora came to a stop. Larry with his rope was quickly ashore, and securing the cable to a convenient tree. Then they let the motor boat swing around, so that her prow headed up-stream; after which she was apt to lie easy all night, with the current gurgling past, and singing the everlasting song of the running water.

Larry was for going ashore and making a fire, but Tony begged him not to.

"They find us soon enough, without hurryin' it 'long that way," he said.

"Oh! well," Larry replied, "I suppose we can use the bully little kerosene gas cooker tonight. It's a howling success, according to my mind; and I'm only wondering why you didn't get a second edition while about it, Phil."

"Because it was new to me," replied his chum; "and while I'd heard a heap about it, I thought I'd like to try the thing out first. But I give you my word I'm going to have another as soon as I can send for it. And never again shall I go into camp without one along. Think of the rainy days when I've had to go hungry because all the wood was soaked; when with such a treasure in the tent you could cook to your heart's content."

"Then you give in to Tony, and say no fire ashore tonight?" asked Larry.

"Well, yes," was Phil's reply. "It's pretty warm anyhow to cook over a blaze. And perhaps after all it might be better for me to drop into the village of the McGee, of my own free will, rather than be taken there, apparently against it."

Again Tony sighed. Perhaps he felt that there was small chance of their passing that night so near the settlement of his people without having unwelcome visitors. Perhaps he knew only too well how the mute Barker must ere now have arrived among the shanties of the shingle-makers with his astonishing news; and that many dugouts would soon be scouring the river in search for the remarkable motor boat on which he, Tony, seemed an honored guest.

"I wonder if I could catch any fish here?" remarked Larry, who could not forget the success that had attended his previous efforts in the "hook and pole" line.

"Plenty everywhere along here, I should guess," remarked Phil. "So suppose you get busy, and see if you can't pull up a supper for the crowd. Fact is, old chum, you're rapidly developing into a second class scout. When you get back North you will know so much that they'll just have to get you a medal to wear. And the marks on the sleeve of your khaki jacket will about reach from your shoulder to your elbow, you'll qualify for so much."

"Aw! quit jollying me, Phil," chuckled Larry, who nevertheless seemed to enjoy the novel sensation of being complimented on his newly acquired knowledge in the line of woodcraft.

He was soon busily engaged untangling his fishing line, while Tony went ashore to hunt for grubs in old logs; and Phil employed himself otherwise. From time to time the chums exchanged a few words, with Phil taking Larry to task for persisting in calling his jointed bamboo fishing rod a "pole!"

"That goes well enough with the country boy, who has only a long bamboo pole, with the string tied at the end," he said, with the air of a schoolmaster; "but after you reach the point where you use a split bamboo jointed rod, and a fine rubber reel, it's about time you stepped up a peg, and gave things their right name."

Larry promised to be more careful in the future.

"There, I've got the tangle all out," he said, with a sigh of relief; "and here comes Tony with some bait. What is it you've got? Bully for you, Tony! My! what a nice assortment of fat grubs. I just bet you the bass will grab at 'em like hot cakes. And strange to say, I'm actually feeling a little hungry myself at the thought of supper. Well, here goes for business."

He went to the stern of the boat to cast out. Not just fancying the way the boat happened to lie, Larry picked up the setting pole, and started to push a little. In doing so he happened to thrust the pole into the water. Perhaps he was only trying to see how deep the river was at that point; at least he afterwards declared he had no other idea than that.

Phil, occupied in the little task which he had laid out for himself, paid no particular attention to Larry for several minutes. He was suddenly startled by a shrill screech from his chum. This caused him to leap quickly to his feet; and what he saw was enough to send a thrill through his whole body.

In prodding about with the push pole Larry must have struck some object lying at the bottom of the river, and the sudden appearance of this unsuspected neighbor had given him a terrible shock. It was a tremendous alligator that thrust his snout above the surface, just as Larry, losing his balance, fell into the river with a great splash!



CHAPTER XV

A RIDE ON AN ALLIGATOR

It was certainly a time for prompt action.

Phil Lancing had leaped to his feet at the first cry from his chum. When he saw that tremendous snout thrust up out of the water he felt a thrill. This changed from alarm to horror when unfortunate and clumsy Larry, tripping in his excitement over the side, struck the water with a tremendous splash, not far from the aroused alligator.

During the day just passed Tony had been giving them more or less interesting facts connected with the ugly saurians that had their usual abode in the cypress swamps. Of course, as the lad had been born and raised amid such surroundings, he was familiar with most of the humors of the scaly reptiles; and had himself been engaged in numerous adventures with them in times past.

He had even told with infinite gusto of an occasion where on a dare he had jumped astride the back of a big bull that was caught in a lagoon, and ridden him to and fro for the space of five moments, despite his bellowing and the angry lashing of his active tail.

Naturally, then, these things all seemed to flash before the mind of Phil in that one dreadful second as he stood there, and saw his chum floundering in the river, not ten feet from the ugly teeth of the 'gator.

Larry had somehow managed to seize upon a dangling rope end. It must have been by the merest chance in the world that this came about; but having once clutched this life preserver he held on with a desperate grip.

Meanwhile, he seemed to understand that he was in dangerous closeness to that aroused and angry reptile which his setting pole had prodded. While holding on for dear life Larry was exercising all the agility of a gymnast in a mad effort to do a little rope climbing.

That was where his lack of form told heavily against him. Strive as he would, and spurred on to redoubled labor by a knowledge of his peril, Larry was utterly unable to accomplish what he had set out to perform. Several times he succeeded in drawing himself up a foot or so, and then would come a fatal slip that knocked his plans "galley-west," as Phil would have said.

And at such times Larry was bound to go souse into the stream again, grunting; calling out in half muffled tones; and spouting forth quite a cascade of water that had been taken into his open mouth.

Undoubtedly, had Larry's rescue depended upon himself alone he might have fared badly. He did not seem able to make any headway against the bad run of luck that kept tumbling him back after every effort to rise. And that mossback 'gator, as Tony always called an old fellow, was certainly worked up into a rage which might result in his attacking the struggling boy, despite all his wild floundering and splashing.

Phil of course suddenly remembered that he had it in his power to assist Larry.

His gun!

If only he could manage to hasten to where it had last been seen, he might yet fire a charge, or several for that matter, full into the eyes of the reptile; and at such a short distance it must surely bring the attack to an end.

While it takes quite some time to narrate these things, in reality it all happened within a few seconds, to tell the truth. Usually Phil was exceedingly active in mind, but somehow the affair seemed to have dazzled him just a trifle, so that he found himself unable to decide just where he had last set eyes on the faithful repeating shotgun.

Larry had even made his second furious attempt to climb up the rope, and fallen back again, when Phil discovered the barrel of the gun sticking out from under a bunch of blankets which his chum had tossed aside in trying to get at his fishing tackle.

Just as Phil was in the act of making a dash for the weapon something flashed by him. It was Tony, the swamp boy; and over his shoulder as he leaped he sent back the words:

"I get him, you watch!"

Nevertheless Phil, being accustomed to depending on himself, did not halt in his dash for the gun. No matter how good the intentions of Tony might be there was always more or less danger that a slip could occur; and in case such a calamity did come about, he, Phil, wanted to be in a position to lend a helping hand.

The dangling rope was in reality the loose end of the painter which Larry had fastened to the trunk of the twisted live oak tree growing near the edge of the bank. As the water was quite deep right up alongside the shore Larry found no footing, and was in his haste making a bad job out of what might otherwise have been easy work.

Afterwards, when he figured matters over, Phil realized that he could not have been more than three seconds in making that frantic dive for the gun, snatching it up in his eager hands, and swinging around once more so that he could have a clear view of the water where this excitement was transpiring. And yet at the time it seemed to him as though an hour must have elapsed, so great was the mental strain.

What he saw caused him to stare as though he could hardly believe his eyes; it was all like a strange dream, this actual realization of the story which Tony had been telling them that afternoon.

The alligator bull was still in sight. He had managed to turn about, so that his ugly snout was pointing directly toward the spot where Larry was still kicking and splashing at a terrific rate in his attempt to be a sailor, and climb a rope, something he had possibly never practiced, the more the pity.

How Tony had ever managed to accomplish it in that very short space of time Phil could never guess; but even as he looked he saw the swamp lad astride the back of the angry 'gator, close up to his head.

The saurian was lashing the water into foam. Perhaps he had just managed to get sight of the struggling Larry, and intended to swim straight for him, had not a new and unexpected enemy suddenly taken a hand in the game.

Gripping his gun Phil crouched there on the deck of the motor boat, staring at the little swamp boy. Tony was grinning widely as though he delighted in proving in this practical way how true his remarkable story of the afternoon had been.

And looking, Phil saw him lean quickly forward. He seemed to thrust both hands out, with the thumbs turned down, as though seeking the only vulnerable point about that mail-clad head.

"The eyes—he's trying to stick his thumbs in the 'gator's little eyes!" gasped the astounded and thrilled watcher.

He no longer thought of attempting to make use of the weapon he held in his own hands. What was the need when Tony had things all his own way? And holding his very breath with awe Phil Lancing watched the bold play of the swamp boy, who had been accustomed to the ways of alligators from infancy.

"He's done it!" burst from the lips of the one spectator, as a terrific bellow burst from the twelve foot saurian, undoubtedly of pain and rage combined at having his eyes gouged in this fierce manner.

Faster and more violently than ever did that powerful tail thresh the water, until the foam seemed like soap bubbles. Bellow after bellow made the air tremble, or at least pulsate. And amid all this racket the shrill screams of delight on the part of the excited and pleased swamp lad could be heard pealing forth like the notes of a bugle amid the roar of battle.

"Get him up, Phil—get him up!"

It was Tony shouting these words, which brought the watcher to his senses. Why, how silly of him to be crouching there, a mere looker-on, when he ought to be having a hand in the matter.

Thinking thus, Phil immediately sprang away. A couple of bounds took him over the side of the launch and ashore. Here, dropping his now useless gun, he bent down alongside the roots of the live oak, which on this side were exposed to the air by the gradually washing away of the soil.

The first thing Phil saw was the agonized face of his chum. It no longer looked rosy, and beaming with good-nature. Larry was genuinely frightened, and as pale as a ghost. The sight of that terrible monster, which he had unwittingly offended with those prods from his push pole, together with his sudden immersion in the water, had given him a shock.

"Reach up your hand, Larry! I'll give you a pull, and out you come!" Phil cried, as he bent down, and stretched his own willing arm as far down toward the surface of the water as he could.

Larry was only too willing. Indeed, he even let go with both hands, and of course plunged back again into the river, to frantically cry out, and seize once more on the friendly rope-end.

"Careful now! Not so fast, old fellow! Just one hand at a time; and hold on to the rope with the other!" Phil said, encouragingly.

This time, taking warning from his former mishap, and realizing that the more haste the less speed, Larry succeeded in thrusting his left hand into the grasp of the waiting chum above. Phil instantly exerted all his strength; and what with the frantic efforts of the fat boy, the result was all that could have been wished.

Larry rolled over as soon as he found himself safe on dry land. He gave a grunt of what might be satisfaction; allowed another pint of water to escape; and then, filled with eagerness to witness what strange sights might be transpiring close by, crawled to the edge of the bank again, to stare with dilated eyes at the antics of the swamp boy.

Nor was Phil far behind him in seeking a place where he too might be a witness to Tony's wonderful skill in riding the wild alligator bull.

The baffled saurian, roaring with the pain entailed upon him when the boy thus thrust both thumbs down into his eyes, still lashed the water with his sweeping tail, and had started to swim aimlessly about, unable to see whither he might be heading.

Tony's usually sallow face was aflame with delight. He seemed "dreadfully tickled," as Larry would say over the splendid opportunity to show off before his new Northern friends. They knew all about reading, and the world at large; but neither of them would have dared thus ride a savage bull 'gator. It was surely Tony's hour!

But presently the huge reptile, driven frantic by pain, made a sudden lurch, and dived down into the depths of the river, as though hoping in this way to relieve himself of the terrible enemy that was blinding him.

Amid the foam-crested wavelets Phil saw the swamp boy reappear; and his heart, which had seemingly risen into his throat, resumed its normal beating once more.

"Oh! look, there he is again! Bully for Tony; but didn't he do it fine! Come ashore, Tony, before he gets after you again!" called out the excited Larry.

Tony was leisurely swimming toward them, his face still wearing that broad grin.

"Not much danger he do that, I tell yuh," he answered, coolly. "Old mossback, he get in hole, an' hide a week. Skeer him heap that time. Know him come out o' swamp. Get him hide yet, yuh see if I don't."

Reaching the dangling rope-end Tony climbed up unassisted, scorning the helping hand Phil thrust downward. It was as if he desired to show how differently he might have acted had he been in Larry's place. And that individual immediately made up his mind that after such a humiliating experience he would daily practice such useful stunts as climbing a rope, since there could be no telling when it might come in handy as a life saving exercise.

Tony, upon reaching the top of the bank, shook himself like a big New Foundland dog might have done. He had no coat on at the time, nor had Larry, which proved doubly fortunate, considering their immersion.

And Larry, full of gratitude, insisted on squeezing Tony's hand, while he poured out boyish congratulations on the wonderful feat he had seen the other perform. Tony looked greatly pleased. These two chums had done so much for him that he only too gladly welcomed the opportunity to wipe out a little of the debt.



CHAPTER XVI

UNDER THE TWISTED LIVE OAK

"Where did you ever learn that trick, Tony?" asked Phil, as they once more went aboard the motor boat, Larry to change his clothes before thinking of fishing, and Tony to continue the task at which he had been employed, just as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened to disturb him.

"I tell yuh," replied the swamp boy. "McGee, he one time think he have to get out this part of country and locate 'way down south. Hear lots 'bout Everglades, an' go down coast with sponger on sailboat, tuh see if worth while. I was 'long that trip down tuh gulf; an' McGee, he send me back with other men. But I wanter go 'long an' see them Everglades; hear heap 'bout same from one o' our men. Waited till I get chance, an' crawl 'board sailboat, hide in locker forward. They never find me till I get so hungry second day, have tuh come out."

Phil noticed that Tony seldom referred to the head of the clan as his "father"; it was nearly always "McGee"; just as if he felt more respect for him as the leader of the settlement, than regard for him as his parent.

"I suppose your father was considerably surprised?" he remarked, smiling.

Tony shrugged his shoulders, as though the memory were not altogether pleasant.

"He was mad clean through," he replied. "He knock me down once, and say he ought to throw me overboard. Then he change his mind, and larf, tellin' me I was a chip o' the same old stick, er somethin' that way. Arter that he act right good, an' I do the cookin' foh the lot. So then we get tuh Everglades. But he never take tuh things down thar like here, an' change mind 'bout leavin'."

"But about the alligator trick, Tony?" asked Larry, who was listening eagerly all me while.

"Come tuh that now, Larry, you see," answered the other, nodding pleasantly. "Meet Injuns down thar. Seminoles they call 'em. Wear shirt, vest, an' a heap o' red stuff wind 'round head; that all. I talk much with Injuns; they tell me how they many times ride on back of big bull. I never hear such thing, an' want'er see, so they take me out in swamp, and one boy he do same."

"Yes," broke in Phil, "I guess you wasn't satisfied to have an Indian beat you in such a trick; and you couldn't rest until you had copied him; isn't that just about right, Tony?"

The swamp boy chuckled as he nodded.

"Reckon I did, Phil," he said, modestly. "Climb on 'gator back while Injun boy thar, push him off, an' keep up game. Never let Injun beat me. But McGee, he shake his head when I tell him, an' look hard at me. Then he larf, an' jest turn 'way."

"I guess he knew there was just no use trying to hold you back, Tony. Say, Larry, are you going to try for fish this evening?" Phil called out.

"I'm ready right now, with some of those nice fat grubs Tony caught me," replied the other, coming out of the boat with dry clothes on.

"Well," continued Phil, "I wanted to say that after all that row here, the chances are you'd never get a bite in a coon's age. If I were you I'd just go up the shore a bit."

"Why up instead of down?" asked Larry, always curious to know the why and wherefore of everything, as a budding lawyer should.

"For one thing, you muddied the water below," Phil went on. "Then again, perhaps you noticed that the old mossback headed downstream; and so the chances are the fish might be scared away for some distance."

"Oh! now I catch on to what you mean, Phil," Larry spoke up. "But you see, there are so many things I don't know about woodcraft, that I've just got to keep asking questions. Then I'll go upstream, and try my luck."

"Be careful not to get out of sight of the boat," warned the other.

Larry looked a bit dubious at these words. He stood there for a minute as if hesitating whether to go or not. But like most boys he disliked to have a chum imagine he were capable of showing the white feather; so presently he sauntered off.