HELD FAST
When Larry started out upon this, his very first hunt alone, he was
filled with a newborn ambition. But before he had wandered for ten
minutes he began to feel the heat, and wished he had not been so silly
as to imagine he were cut out for a mighty Nimrod.
Several times he stumbled over unseen roots of the ever-present saw
palmetto. Fortunately he did not have the hammer of his gun raised at
the time, or there might have been a premature explosion.
When twenty minutes had gone he was beginning to feel angry at himself
because he had voluntarily undertaken this task, for which nature had
never fitted him.
Still, he was possessed of some grit, and disliked very much the idea
of showing the white feather. At any rate, he would keep away the full
hour, and then try to locate the camp. Phil could not then have the
laugh on him; for even the best of hunters have their hard luck days.
Several times he saw frisky squirrels looking curiously at him around
some tree. He was even tempted to try and bag a few of these little
fellows, for after all they were game; and perhaps more in his line
than swift flying quail, or the bounding deer. But every time he thus
decided, the squirrel seemed to guess his hostile intentions; for it
vanished from sight, running up the other side of the live oak, and
losing itself amid the abundant foliage.
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.