DOWN THE SWIFT CURRENT
Evidently Phil was not so very much surprised after all, at this
formidable announcement on the part of the boy with the sallow face.
Perhaps he had even suspected something of the kind for quite a little
time back. At least such a thing would account for the way in which he
had been leading Tony along, until he unwittingly, in defending his
father, gave his secret away.
From the look on his face it seemed as though the boy half feared that
these new friends would turn against him when they learned how McGee
was his father. He was therefore considerably surprised to have Phil
reach out, and grasp his hand in a warm clutch.
"You knew my name as soon as you heard it, Tony," he said, with a smile
that went straight to the heart of the ragged lad. "And ever since
you've been trying to get me to give up this mission of mine. It tells
me that you've already begun to think something of Phil Lancing. And
it encourages me to think your father will do the same, after he gets
to know me."
But Tony shook his head, as if in great doubt.
"Oh! if you knowed just how he's come to hate that name, you wouldn't
dast let him see yuh," he said. "All sorts o' things has been told
'bout how your dad meant tuh chase weuns off'n his land. Some even
says as how the soldiers was agwine tuh be used tuh hunt the squatters
through the swamps whar they has lived always, an' which is the on'y
home they got."
"All of which is a lie made out of whole cloth," declared Phil,
indignantly, "my father isn't that sort of man. Why, he wanted to come
down here himself and meet the McGee face to face; but he had an
important lot of business on hand. Perhaps he may show up yet! And
when your father once comes to know him, he'll never have cause to feel
sore toward Dr. Gideon Lancing, because he happens to be a rich man."
"I've heard 'em talkin' about it heaps," said Tony, "an' they 'spect to
have tuh fight sooner or later. They's a hard lot, and live a wild
life. Yuh couldn't blame 'em much for hatin' the name of the man they
look on as their enemy."
"Wait a little while, Tony. I'm bound to meet your father, and see if
I can't change that stubborn mind of his. Perhaps I've got some magic
about me. Perhaps I could show him something that would change a foe
into a friend. Anyhow, all you say doesn't alter my mind a mite," and
Phil smiled into the troubled face of the swamp boy as he spoke.
Larry had listened to all this with the greatest interest. While he
might to some extent share the confidence of his chum, still he did not
feel quite so positive about the warmth of their welcome by the lawless
band of shingle-makers peopling the lower reaches of the river that
emptied into the gulf.
So they occasionally chatted as they moved along down the stream. Phil
asked a great variety of questions concerning the possibilities of the
country they were now passing through, as a game preserve.
"They's deer tuh be had aplenty," Tony had answered, readily enough;
"an' now an' then a b'ar. Cats and coons c'n be run across any old
time. Once in a long spell yuh see a painter. Turkeys lie on the
sunny sides o' the swales an' ridges. Then in heaps o' places yuh c'n
scare up flocks o' pa'tridges as fat as butter."
"They call quail by that name down here," remarked Phil, turning to
Larry; "just as they call our black bass of the big mouth species a
'trout' in Florida. You have to understand these things, or else
you'll get badly mixed up. And Tony, my chum here wants to know how
about squirrels; for he thinks he could bag a few of that species of
small game, given a chance, with my Marlin pump-gun."
"Sho! no end o' 'em along the hamaks, both grays an' fox squirrels,"
replied the swamp boy; "they's a tough lot though; and weuns always
boils a squirrel fust before we fries him."
"I've done that many a time myself," laughed Phil; "so I guess the
frisky little nut-crackers are about the same, North and South. But
they make a good stew all right, when a fellow's sharp set with hunger.
I can remember eating a mess, and thinking it the finest supper ever."
A good many miles had been covered by the time the afternoon waned;
although not a great deal of southing may have been made. That river
was the greatest thing to curve, and twist back on its course, Phil had
ever met with. He declared that in some places he could throw a stone
across a neck of land into the water which the boat had passed over
half an hour back.
"Makes me think of a great big snake moving along over the ground,"
Larry had declared as he discussed this feature of the stream with the
others.
But Tony assured them that as they progressed further this peculiarity
would for the most part gradually vanish, and the river, growing wider
and deeper, act in a more sensible manner.
The country was certainly as wild as heart could wish.
"Just to think," Larry had remarked, "outside of a few shanties below
the town we haven't set eyes on the first sign of a man all afternoon.
Why, a feller might imagine himself in the heart of Africa, or some
other tropical country. Look at that big blue heron wading in the
water ahead, would you? There he flaps his wings, and is off, with his
long legs sticking out from under him like a fishing pole."
"Which is just about what they are," returned Phil; "since he has to
use them to get his regular fish dinner right along. There's a white
crane; and what d'ye call that other handsome white bird that just got
up, Tony?"
"Ibis. Ain't so many 'round hyah nowadays as they used tuh be. Some
fellers gits on tuh their roosts and nestin' places, an' kills the
birds when they got young uns. My dad just hates them critters like
pizen. He caught a cracker onct as done it, an' they give him a coat,
all right. He never dast shoot another bird ag'in, I'm tellin' yuh."
"Meaning that they tarred and feathered him?" said Phil, who was better
able to grasp the meaning of the swamp boy than innocent Larry, to whom
all such language was like Hebrew or Greek. "Well, I'm glad to hear
that your father has such notions. And it tells me he isn't the savage
some of these up-river people tried to make us believe. For any man
who would shoot the mother birds, and leave the young to starve in the
nests, just for the sake of a dollar or two, ought to get tarred and
feathered! Them's my sentiments, Tony!"
"Hear! hear! ditto! Count me in!" chirped Larry, nodding his head
positively; for he had a tender heart; and the plaintive cry of
starving nestlings would appeal to him strongly--even though he had
never as yet heard such a thing.
"I believe that a true sportsman ought to never destroy more game than
he can make use of," Phil continued, for the subject was one very close
to his heart. "My father taught me that long ago; and I've grown to
think more of it right along. I've known men to throw trout by dozens
up on the bank, when their creel was as full as it could hold. They
seemed to think that unless a fish was killed there could be no fun in
capturing it."
"Say, don't they call those kind of chaps game butchers?" asked Larry.
"Right you are, Larry; and I'm glad to see that you've got the breed
sized up to a dot. I'd let a deer trot past me without pulling trigger
if I knew we had all the meat we could use in camp."
"But just now that doesn't happen to apply," remarked the other,
pointedly.
"Hold the wheel for a minute, Larry, quick!" said Phil, in a low,
thrilling tone.
He instantly snatched up the repeating gun as soon as his chum's
fingers had closed upon the steering wheel. Larry turned his eyes to
look ahead, for he realized that his companion must have seen something.
A crashing sound was heard. Then he had a glimpse of a dun colored
object flitting through the scrub palmettoes under the pines.
"Oh! that was a deer, wasn't it?" Larry exclaimed.
Phil had lowered his gun, with an expression akin to disappointment on
his face.
"Just what it was," he said; "and he got away scot free, all right,
thanks to that scrub interfering with my aim. Well, better luck next
time, Larry. I think I'm safe in saying you will have venison before
long."
"But," interrupted the other, as he worked valiantly at the wheel, for
they had come to an abrupt turn of the river, "I saw him skip past.
Why didn't you shoot anyhow and take chances?"
"I might if I'd had a rifle," answered Phil; "but the distance was so
far that I knew there was a mighty poor show of my bringing him down
with scattering buckshot. I'd hate to just wound the poor beast, and
have him suffer. If we could have come closer before he scampered off,
it would have been different."
Possibly few boys would have allowed themselves to hesitate under such
conditions; but as Phil said, he had been taught what he knew of
woodcraft by a father who was very careful about taking the life he
could never give back again.
After that Larry kept constantly on the alert watching ahead, in the
hope of discovering another deer, which might be brought down by his
quick acting chum.
"Of course we won't try to run along after night sets in," remarked
Larry, as he noted how low in the west the glowing sun had fallen.
"Well, not if we know it," laughed Phil. "It's all a fellow can do
now, with the broad daylight to help him guide this boat around the
corners, and avoiding snags. Look at that half submerged log ahead
there, will you? Suppose we ran full tilt on that now, what a fine
hole there would be punched in the bow of the Aurora, to let the river
in. No, we're going to stop pretty soon."
"That means to tie up for the night, don't it?" queried Larry, always
wanting to know.
"If we can find a tree handy, which will always be the case along the
river, I take it," Phil replied. "We carry an anchor of course; but I
don't expect to use that till we get to the big gulf. Tony, suppose
you keep an eye out for the right tying-up place, will you?"
The two chums had talked the matter over when they had a chance, while
Tony happened to be at the other end of the boat; and thus decided to
coax the swamp boy to don some extra clothes they had along with them.
He was not so much smaller than Phil, and if he was to make one of
their party they felt that it would look better for him to discard the
rags he was then wearing.
Tony took it in the right spirit, and after a bath in the river that
evening he said he would be only too glad to deck himself out in the
trousers, flannel shirt and moccasins which Phil offered. The big red
M on the breast of Larry's shirt, which was to become his property,
seemed to take the eye of the swamp lad more than anything else. Of
course it stood for Madison, the name of the baseball club the Northern
boy belonged to; but it was easy to feel that it also represented the
magic name of McGee.
Tony presently called out that their stopping place was just ahead. So
Phil shut off power, after he had gently swung the boat in near the
left bank. The setting pole, which every boat cruising in Florida
waters invariably carries, was brought into use, and in this way the
nose of the Aurora touched the shore.
Larry immediately tumbled over the side, rope in hand, whipping the
same around a sentinel tree that stood close to the water's edge, as if
for the special use of voyagers.
Once the boat was "snubbed" the current swung her around until her bow
pointed up stream; and in this position she would rest easy during the
night. But Phil made doubly sure against accidents by going ashore,
and seeing that Larry had fashioned the proper sort of hitch knot with
the stout cable.
"There's still half an hour of daylight, fellows," sang out Phil, as he
picked up his gun, together with the belt of shells; "and while you
amuse yourselves here, I think I'll take a little walk around.
Possibly another deer might heave in sight, or even a wild turkey."
"Yum! yum! you make my mouth water, Phil," mumbled Larry, who was
already getting out some fishing tackle, with the idea of trying for a
bass in the brownish waters below the tied-up launch.
"Keep an eye out for rattlers!" warned Tony.
"You just believe I will," called Phil, over his shoulder. "I've got
my leather leggins on though, which would be some protection. But I
don't care to interview the fangs of a big diamondback. So-long, boys;
see you later!"