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."