SI, SHORTY AND THE WEST-POINTER HAVE AN EVENTFUL JOURNEY.
THE log swept out into the yellow swirl, bobbing up and down in the
turbulent current.
"Bobs like a buckin' broncho," said Shorty. "Make you seasick, Si?"
"Not yet," answered his partner. "I ain't so much afraid o' that as I
am that some big alligator-gar 'll come along and take his dinner off my
leg."
"Bah," said Shorty, contemptuously; "no alligator-gar is goin' to
come up into this mud-freshet. He'd ruther hunt dogs and nigger-babies
further down the river. Likes 'em better. He ain't goin' to gnaw at them
old Wabash sycamore legs o' yourn when he kin git a bite at them fat
shoats we saw sailin' down stream awhile ago."
"The belief in alligator-gar is a vulgar and absurd superstition,"
said the Lieutenant, breaking silence for the first time. "There, isn't
anywhere in fresh water a fish capable of eating anything bigger than a
bull-frog."
"Hullo; did West Point learn you that?" said Shorty. "You know just
about as much about it as you do about gittin' over cricks an' paddlin'
a canoe. Have you ever bin interduced to a Mississippi catfish? Have you
ever seen an alligator-gar at home in the Lower Mississippi? Naw! You
don't know no more about them than a baby does about a catamount. I have
heard tell of an alligator-gar that was longer'n a fence-rail, and sort
of king of a little bayou down in the Teche country. He got mad because
they run a little stern-wheel steamboat up into his alley to git their
cotton off, an' he made up his mind to stop it. He'd circle 'round
the boat to git a good headway and pick out his man. Then he'd take a
run-and-jump, leap clean across the boat, knock off the man he'd picked
out, an' tow him off under a log an' eat him. He intended to take the
Captain fust, but his appetite got the better of him. He saw a big, fat,
juicy buck nigger of a deck-hand, an' couldn't stand the temptation. He
fetched him easy. Next he took a nice, tender little cabin-boy. Then he
fetched the big old Mate, but found him so full o' terbacker, whisky and
bad language that he couldn't eat him nohow, an' turned him over to the
mudturtles, what'll eat anything. The Captain then got scared an' quit.
He didn't care a hat for the Mate, for he was glad to git rid of him;
but he liked the cabin-boy an' he had to pay the owner o' the nigger
$1,200 for him, an' that made runnin' up the Teche onprofitable."
"Oh, Shorty," Si gasped. He thought he was acquainted with his partner's
brilliant talents for romance, but this was a meteoric flight that he
had not expected.
"But that wasn't nothin'," Shorty continued, "to a he catfish that a man
told me about down near Helena, Ark. He used to swim around in a little
chute near a house-cabin in which lived a man with a mighty good-lookin'
young wife. The man was awful jealous of his woman, an' used to beat
her. The ole he catfish had a fine eye for purty women, and used to
cavort around near the cabin whenever his business would permit. The
woman noticed him, and it tickled him greatly. She'd throw him hunks o'
bread, chunks o' cold meat, and so on. The man'd come out and slap her,
and fling clubs and knots at him. One day the man put his wife in a
basswood canoe, and started to take her across the river. He hadn't got
a rod from the shore when the old he catfish ups and bites the canoe in
two, then nips the man's hand so's he didn't git over it for months, and
then puts his nose under the woman's arm, and helps her ashore as polite
as you please."
"Shorty," gasped Si, "if you tell any more such stories as that this
log'll certainly sink. See it how it wobbles now."
"I consider such stuff very discourteous to your officer," said the
Lieutenant stiffly. "I shall make a note of it for consideration at some
future time."
"Halt! Who goes thar?" rang out sharply from the bank.
"Hush; don't breathe," said Shorty. They were in an eddy, which was
sweeping them close to the rebel bank.
"Who air yo' haltin'?" said a second voice.
"I see some men in a canoe out thar. I heared their voices fust," said
the first voice.
"Whar' yo see any men in a canoe?" asked the second incredulously.
"Right over thar. You kin see 'em. They're comin' right this-a-way. I'm
a gwine t' halt 'em agin an' then shoot."
"Stuff," said the other. "You're allers seein' shadders an' ghostses.
That 'er's only an ole tree with three limbs stickin' up. Don't yo'
shoot an' skeer the whole camp. They'll have the grand laugh on yo', an'
mebbe buck-an'-gag yo'."
"'Tain't stuff," persisted the other. "Thar never wuz a tree that ever
growed that had three as big limbs as that all on one side. You're moon
blind."
"A man mout well be rain blind in sich a storm as this, but I tell yo'
that's nothin' but an ole sycamore drift log. If yo' shoot the
boys'll never git tired o' damnin' yo', an' jest as likely as not the
ossifers'll make yo' tote a rail through the mud termorrer."
The boys were so near that every word could be distinctly heard, and
they were floating nearer every moment.
The suspense was thrilling. If the man fired at that distance he could
not help hitting one of them and discovering the others. They scarcely
breathed, and certainly did not move a muscle, as the log floated
steadily in-shore in the comparatively stiller waters of the eddy. The
rain was coming down persistently yet, but with a sullen quietness, so
that the silence was not broken by the splashing of the drops.
A water-moccasin deadliest of snakes crawled up onto the log and coiled
himself in front of Si, with that indifference to companionship which
seems to possess all animals in flood-times. Si shuddered as he saw it,
but did not dare make a motion against it.
The dialog on the bank continued.
"Thar, you kin see thar air men in a canoe," said the first voice.
"I can't see nothin' o' the kind," replied the other.
"If hit ain't a log with three dead limbs, hit's a piece o' barn-timber
with the j'ists a-stickin' up."
"I don't believe hit nary mite. Hit's men, an' I'm a-gwine t' shoot."
"No, yo' hain't gwine t' make a durned fool o' yourself. Wait a minute.
Hit's a-comin' nigher, an' soon you kin hit it with a rock. I'll jest
do hit t' show yo how skeery yo' air. Le'me look around an' find a
good rock t' throw. If I kin find jest the right kind I kin hit a
yallerhammer at that distance."
This prospect was hardly more reassuring than that of being fired at,
but there was nothing to do but to take whatever might come. To make it
more aggravating, the current had slowed down, until the motion of their
log was very languid. They were about 100 feet from the shore when they
heard the second voice say:
"Heah, I've got jest the right kind o' a dornick. Now jest keep yer eye
peeled an' fixed on that center limb, an' yo'll hear it chunk when I
plunk hit an' show hit's nothin' but a stick o' wood."
Si thought he saw the Lieutenant crouch a little, but was not sure.
The stone came whistling through the air, struck the top of the
Lieutenant's cap and knocked it off into the water.
"Thar," said the second voice triumphantly; "yo' see hit ain't no men.
Jest as I done tole yo'. I knocked the bark offen the end o' one o' the
sticks."
The log moved slowly on, and presently catching in a stronger current,
swept out into the stream again. It seemed so like deliverance, that Si
made a quick blow and knocked the snake off into the water, and Shorty
could not help shouting triumphantly:
"Good-by, Johnnies! Sorry we can't stay with you longer. Got other
engagements down the crick. Ta-ta! See you later."
The chagrined sentry fired an angry shot, but they were already behind a
clump of willows.
"Lootenant," said Shorty, "you put on a whole lot of unnecessary frills,
but you've got good stuff in you after all. You went through that little
affair like a man. I'll back you after this."
"When I desire your opinion, sir, as to my conduct," replied the
Lieutenant, "I shall ask you for it. Until then keep it to yourself. It
is for me to speak of your conduct, not you of mine."
But again they "had hollered before they were out o' the woods," as
Shorty afterward expressed it. The gunfire and the sound of their voices
so near shore had stirred up the rebels. A canoe with three men in
it had pushed out, and, struggling with the current, had made its way
toward them, guided by their own voices. The top of a floating tree had
hidden it from their sight until it suddenly came around the mass of
leafage, and a man standing up in the bow leveling a revolver at them
ordered instant surrender. The other two men were sitting in the middle
and stern with paddles, and having all they could do to maintain the
course of the canoe.
Si and Shorty were so startled that for an instant they made no response
to the demand. The Lieutenant was the first to speak:
"Are you a commissioned officer?" he inquired.
"No," was the answer.
"Then I refuse to surrender. I'll surrender to no one inferior to me in
rank."
"Sorry we'uns can't obleege yo', nohow," said the man with the revolver,
in a sneer; "but we'uns'll have t' be good enough commissioned ossifers
for yo' jist now, an' yo'll have t' done hold up yo'uns hands. We'uns
hain't no time t' send ashore for a Lootenant."
The other two chuckled as they struggled with the current, and forced
the canoe up close to the log. Shorty made a motion as if throwing up
his hands, and called out in a submissive way:
"Here, le'me git hold o' the bow, and I kin help you. It's awful hard
paddlin' in this current."
Without thinking the men threw the bow in so close that Shorty could
clutch it with his long hand. The grab shook the ticklish craft, so that
the man with the revolver could scarcely keep his feet.
"Heah," he yelled at the other two. "Keep the dugout stiddy. What air
yo'uns doin'? Hold her off, I tell yo'uns."
Then to the Lieutenant:
"Heah, yo'uns surrender to wonst, or I'll blow yo' heads offen yo'uns."
The Lieutenant started a further remonstrance, but Shorty had in the
meantime got the other hand on the canoe, and he gave it such a wrench
that the man with the pistol lost his footing and fell across the log,
where he was grabbed by Shorty and his pistol-hand secured. The stern of
the canoe had swung around until Si had been able to catch it with one
hand, while with the other he grabbed the man in the stern, who, seeing
the sudden assumption of hostilities, had raised his paddle to strike.
Si and Shorty had somewhat the advantage in position. By holding on to
the log with their legs they had a comparatively firm, base, while the
canoe was a very ticklish foundation for a fight.
The middle man also raised his paddle to strike, but the Lieutenant
caught it and tried to wrest it away. This held the canoe and the log
close together while Si and Shorty were struggling. Si saw this, and
letting go, devoted both hands to this man, whom he pulled over into
the water about the same time that Shorty possessed himself of the other
man's pistol and dragged him out of the canoe.
"Hold fast in the center there, Lieutenant," he called out, as he
dropped the pistol into his bosom and took in the situation with a quick
glance. "You two Johnnies hold on to the log like grim death to a dead
nigger, and you won't drown."
He carefully worked himself from the log into the canoe, and then Si did
the same. They had come to a part where the water spread out in a broad
and tolerably calm lake over the valley, but there was a gorge at the
further end through which it was rushing with a roar. Log and canoe were
drifting in that direction, and while the changes were being made the
canoe drifted away from the log.
"Hold on, men," shouted the Lieutenant; "you are certainly not going to
abandon your officer?"
"Certainly not," said Shorty. "How could you imagine such a thing?
But just how to trade you off for this rebel passenger presents
difficulties. If we try to throw him overboard we shall certainly tip
the canoe over. And I'm afraid he's not the man to give up peaceably a
dry seat in the canoe for your berth on the log."
"I order you to come back here at once and take me in that boat," said
the Lieutenant imperatively.
"We are comin' back all right," said Shorty; "but we're not goin' to
let you tip this canoe over for 40 Second Lieutenants. We'll git you out
o' the scrape somehow. Don't fret."
"Hello, thar! Help! Help!" came across the waters in agonized tones,
which at the same time had some thing familiar in them.
"Hello, yourself!" responded Shorty, making out, a little distance away,
a "jo-boat," that is, a rude, clumsy square-bottomed, square-ended sort
of a skiff in which was one man. "What's wanted?"
"I'm out here adrift without no oars," came in the now-distinctly
recognizable voice of Jeff Hackberry. "Won't yo' please tow me ashore?"
"Le's go out there and git him," said Shorty to Si. "We kin put all
these fellers in that jo-boat and save 'em."
A few strokes of their paddles brought them alongside.
"How in the world did you come here, Hackberry," asked Shorty.
"O, that ole woman that I wanted so bad that I couldn't rest till I
got her wuz red-hot t' git rid o' me," whined Hackberry. "She tried
half-a-dozen ways puttin' wild parsnip in my likker, giving me pokeberry
bitters, and so on, but nothin' fetched me. Finally she deviled me to
carry her acrost the crick to the Confederit lines. I found this ole
jo-boat at last, an' we got in. Suddenly, quick as lightning she picked
up the oars, an' give the boat a kick which sent hit away out into the
current. I floated away, yellin' at her, an' she standin' on the bank
grinnin' at me and cussin'. I've been havin' the awfulest day floatin'
down the freshet, expectin' every minute t' be drowned, an' both sides
pluggin' away at me whenever they ketched sight o' me. I wuz willin' t'
surrender t' either one that'd save me from being drownded, but none of
'em seemed t' care a durn about my drowndin'; they only wanted t' plug
me."
"Please save me, Mister," begged Jeff, "an' I'll do anything under the
shinin' sun for yo'; I'll jine the Yankee army; I'll lead you' to whar
thar's nests o' the pizenest bushwhackers. I'll do anything yo' kin ax
me. Only save me from being drownded. Right down thar's the big falls,
an' if I go over them, nothin' kin same me from drowndin'." And he began
a doleful blubbering.
"On general principles, I think that'd be the best thing that could
happen," remarked Shorty. "But I haven't time to discuss that now. Will
you do just what we want, if we save your life?"
"Yes; yes," responded he eagerly.
"Well, if you don't, at the very minute I tell you, I'll plug you for
certain with this," said Shorty, showing the revolver. "Mind, I'll not
speak twice. I'll give you no warnin'. You do what I tell you on the
jump, or I'll be worse to you than Mrs. Bolster. First place, take this
man in with you. And you (to the rebel in the canoe) mind how you git
into that boat. Don't you dare, on your life, kick the canoe over as you
crawl out. If I find it rocks the least bit as you leave I'll bust your
cocoanut as the last act of my military career. Now crawl out."
The rebel crawled over the gunwale into the boat as cautiously as if
there were torpedoes under him.
"Now," said Shorty, with a sigh of relief, as the man was at last out of
the canoe, "we'll paddle around here and pick up some pieces of boards
for you to use as oars. Then you bring the boat over to that log."
This was done, and the Lieutenant and the two rebels clinging to the log
were transferred to the jo-boat. The moment the Lieutenant felt himself
in the comparative security of the jo-boat his desire for command
asserted itself.
"Now, men," said he, authoritatively, "pull away for the other side,
pointing up stream. That glow over there is our campfires. Make for it."
"All right, Lootenant," said Shorty. "You command that boat. You've got
your revolver with you, and kin make 'em mind. We'll pick up some more
boards, so as to have oars for all o' 'em. They'd better use 'em lively,
for it ain't a great ways t' the suck. If you git into that you'll go to
Davy Jones's as sure as the Lord made little apples. Paddle, now, if you
value your lives. Me and Si are goin' back to look for that galoot that
shot at us. We want to make a present of him to our Colonel, who's after
information from the other side. We want his gun and another one to make
up for the two that we had to leave on the island. We'll join you before
you git acrost."
The Lieutenant lifted up his voice in remonstrance against the desperate
undertaking, but Si and Shorty paddled swiftly away, leaving him and his
squad to struggle over the muddy lake in their clumsy bateau.
Though the boys were sadly worn by the day's exciting adventures, yet
they were animated by the hope of doing something that would signally
retrieve their earlier misfortunes. Both were adepts at canoe
navigation, the canoe was light and easily managed with but two in it,
and they had gotten the lay of the shore so well in mind that they felt
sure that they could slip around and come in on the man who had fired
upon them. The drizzle of the rain helped curtain them; they pushed the
canoe through the top of a paw-paw thicket that rose but a little way
above the flood, Shorty sprang out, and in a few steps came up behind
the two pickets, who were crouching over a little fire they had built
behind the cover of some dense weeds.
"Was this the post that fired on men in a canoe a little while ago?" he
asked, as if a rebel officer out on a tour of investigation.
"Yes," the men stammered, as soon as they could recover from the startle
of his sudden appearance.
"Which man fired?" asked Shorty.
"Me," answered one.
"Well, I want you and both your guns," said Shorty, thrusting his
revolver against the man's face. "Pick up them guns and go right ahead
there."
The man meekly did as bid, and in a few minutes was landed into the
canoe, into which Shorty jumped and pushed off. When nearly across they
came upon the jo-boat, with the Lieutenant standing erect with drawn
revolver, while the men were laboring hard to propel it to shore.
The boys fastened its painter to the stern of the canoe and helped by
towing.
They headed for a large fire burning brightly on the bank, indicating
that it was the headquarters of the pickets. In response to the sharp
challenge, the Lieutenant responded:
"Friends, without the countersign."
Quite a number of officers and men thronged to the water's edge to
see what could be coming from that unexpected quarter. The Lieutenant
ordered the boys to fall to the rear with their canoe, that he might
be the first to land, and as his bateau labored close to the shore he
recognized the Colonel in command of the picket line, and said in a loud
voice:
"Sir, I have the honor to report that I have been across the creek
reconnoitering the enemy's lines. I have with me five prisoners four
soldiers and one guerrilla."