THE PERILS OF THE WATER LABYRINTH
"Silence, everybody!" hissed Elmer, who knew it would be just like
Toby, and perhaps some of the other fellows, to burst into a shout as
soon as they could get command of their voices.
It was certainly a bear, a small one to be sure, but genuine enough,
and not such as can be seen with wandering foreigners, taught to dance,
or wield a pole as a soldier would his musket.
Just when the scouts glimpsed the hairy denizen of Sassafras Swamp, he
was engaged in sitting on his haunches and gathering in the bushes with
his sturdy forelegs. To Lil Artha, it looked as though Bruin might be
making a lunch from the luscious, big blueberries that grew in such
abundance here and there through the swamp.
Up to the moment when Lil Artha thus called attention to the presence
of the black native, the bear must have been in ignorance of their
being so near at hand. When he did notice them, he simply gave a
disgusted grunt, and ambled away through the brush. Lil Artha always
declared the bear glanced back at them as he ran, and even put out his
tongue, just as if he knew it was the close season, and that a kind
game law protected him from all harm.
"Say, let me tell you this old Sassy swamp isn't such a bad place for a
game preserve after all," said Toby; "I think some of us could enjoy
having a week up here, after the law on bears and all such was up. But
it's too far from home during the school session, for us to come."
"Oh! I don't know about that," remarked the tall scout, meditatively;
"we could borrow a car, and start in the middle of the night when there
was a moon. That'd give us a whole day up here. Take it at
Thanksgiving and we could make it three, with Friday and Saturday
thrown in. Elmer, think it over, won't you?"
"Plenty of time for that," he was assured; "We've got our hands full as
it is, without borrowing trouble."
"And perwaps before we're done with it," Ted croaked, "you'll be that
tired of seeing nothing but thwamp all around, that you'll vow never
again for yourth."
"I'm going to make a proposition, Elmer," said Landy; "and I hope
you'll agree. Suppose we go ashore and tackle some of those elegant
blueberries ourselves? It's a shame that bears should be the only ones
to enjoy such a feast. And it's tough sitting here so long!"
At that Lil Artha grunted, and looking almost savagely at the speaker
nodded his head while he muttered:
"That settles it, my boy; I see your finish. You're going to earn your
salt after this, no matter what happens!"
Elmer seemed to consider for a few seconds.
"I see no reason why we shouldn't pull up for a little while, just as
you say, Landy," he observed, to the delight of the rest; "and everyone
of us is fond of a mess of good ripe blueberries. So pitch in while
the supply lasts."
The berries were thicker and larger than any they had ever seen before;
and Lil Artha declared he considered the judgment of the little black
bear "prime."
"He sure knew a good thing when he found it, and so do we," he told
those who were working fingers and jaws near him.
When Elmer concluded that "enough was as good as a feast," they once
more embarked, and the voyage was resumed. There was a new pusher in
the older skiff, however.
"Here, you Landy, suppose you change seats with me," Lil Artha had
remarked as the fat scout started to settle down in the middle of the
boat, just as though he had a mortgage on that prize seat.
Landy looked worried.
"What for, Lil Artha?" he ventured to say, looking at the skipper with
distress plainly marked on his round features; "do you want me to push
the boat now? Not but that I'm willing to do anything I'm asked, you
know; but I didn't think you'd want to take chances on getting wet, and
mebbe losing our packs in the bargain; because I know I'm awful clumsy
about some things."
"Well, in this case we'll have to take the risk," said the other,
grimly; "the only satisfaction we have is that if anybody does get wet
you won't escape. We're all in the same boat, you understand; and we
sink or swim together. Now climb up here, and I'll show you how to
handle a pusher. Time you learned a few more of the tricks a true
scout ought to know."
Landy, apparently, wanted to do his best. He watched how Lil Artha
used the heavy pole and then started to imitate him.
"That's the way, Landy," said Mark, desirous of encouraging the stout
boy in his new duties; "you can do it all right if you only keep on the
watch."
"Course I can," replied the new hand, scornfully; "guess you're all
fooled if you think I never pushed a skiff with a pole before."
"So you were just playing 'possum, were you?" demanded the indignant
Lil Artha, "bent on fooling me so as to evade hard work, eh? I'd be
serving you right, Landy, if I kept you shovin' away the rest of the
afternoon. It'd thin you down a trifle, too, because I think you're
getting too fat for any use. Go slow there, and don't splash so loud
when you drop the pole end in again."
Landy seemed to soon become fairly proficient so that his mentor could
turn his attention to other things of interest they happened to see
around them as they continued their course.
Crows scolded from the treetops as the two boats glided underneath.
This circumstance might probably pass unnoticed by one who knew little
or nothing of woodcraft, but to an Indian it would be a sure sign that
the sharp-eyed birds had discovered some human being, probably an
enemy, and in that way he would be put on his guard against a surprise.
As the man they were looking for did not appear to be educated along
these lines, they need not fear that their presence in the swamp would
be betrayed through any such agency as crows cawing, or flying about in
excitement.
Some time later Toby uttered a low "whew" that caused Chatz, just then
in the act of putting the pole back into the water, to hold it
suspended in midair.
"Elmer, I may be mistaken," said Toby, "but something moved over in the
branches of that tree yonder, and unless my eyes deceived me, which
they seldom do, it was a cat!"
"You mean a wildcat, don't you, Toby?" whispered Landy, for the two
boats were close enough together for the occupants to have shaken
hands, had they wanted to.
"Just what I meant," repeated Toby, firmly. "I can't say that I see
him now, for he's somewhere up in the thickest part of the bushy tree;
but it must have been something more than a 'coon, because I actually
saw the blaze of its eyes!"
"Whew!" gasped Landy, looking as though he wanted to drop the push-pole
on the spur of the moment; "get your gun, Lil Artha, why don't you?
Mean to let a feller be jumped on, and clawed something awful, do you?
I give you my word that if I see a wildcat comin' for me, I'll jump
overboard, and let him tackle the rest of you in the boat, that's what.
Get your gun, Lil Artha; they're vicious you must know, specially when
they've got kits around."
"We haven't lost any cat!" remarked Lil Artha, composedly, as though he
really took a cruel satisfaction in seeing Landy shiver; "and, besides,
I don't more'n half believe the fairy story. Toby's got to show me
before I own up. I reckon some of my people must have come from
Missouri."
"Yes, they raise a heap of mules there, I understand," remarked Toby,
with considerable sarcasm; "but I'm glad to see that Elmer has thought
it worth while to lay hold of his scatter-gun, so as to be ready.
Course we don't want any trouble with any old cat; but there's such a
thing as armed peace. If she jumps for us, I hope Elmer will give her
a load before she lands, that's all. We've got to pass pretty much
under some part of that tree, understand?"
Acting on Elmer's initiative, Lil Artha now also picked up his gun, and
started to keep a sharp watch. As Toby had truly said, they could not
really continue on their way without passing under the wide-stretching
branches of the tree where he claimed to have seen "something that
looked like a wildcat."
"Get busy there, Landy, use your pole, and push us along. Don't stand
there just like you were frozen stiff; we won't let any cat grab you,
make up your mind to it. Get a move on you, I say, Landy Smith."
"Oh! well, might as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb, I reckon,"
muttered the fat scout as he started to make use of his push-pole.
For the time being, caution was thrown to the winds; all Landy
considered was the rapidity with which he could get past that ominous
tree containing Toby's bobcat.
Perhaps Landy's heart was beating a regular tattoo as he found himself
actually compelled to pass under the tree itself, owing to the
narrowness of the channel at just that part of the runway. Elmer,
watching out of the tail of his eye, could see how pale the other had
become, and he was secretly amused.
It was just like Lil Artha, when their skiff was directly under the
suspected tree, to utter a low gasp, and proceed to elevate his gun in
a hurry, as though sighting the quarry.
Poor Landy came very near having a fit; he dropped the pole overboard
and fell backwards in the boat, which came near swamping. Toby, in the
other craft, succeeded in rescuing the floating pole before it had gone
completely beyond reach.
"Guess I was mistaken that time!" said Lil Artha, without cracking a
smile, although no doubt he must have been secretly chuckling at the
way the handler of the push-pole had shown alacrity in getting out of
range.
So Landy, with a sheepish grin, managed to get on his feet again, and
take the rescued pole from Toby's hands. He gave the tall scout a
sharp look as though suspecting that it had been a trick intended to
play upon his nerves. But then Landy was always a good-natured fellow,
and never bore anyone ill-will, no matter what the joke might be of
which he became the victim.
Toby could not be persuaded that he had not glimpsed a wildcat in that
tree under which they passed. He kept staring back as long as it was
possible to catch a view of its leafy branches.
"Well, say what you like," he concluded, "I did see _something_ whisk
out of sight up there; yes, and it had starey eyes in the bargain. If
it was a 'coon, then all I can say is they breed queer 'coons up in
this old Sassafras Swamp country. There now, that's about enough from
me."
"The afternoon is nearly half gone, and we haven't scared up our quarry
yet," advised Mark later on.
"Plenty of time, for there's another day coming," said Elmer. "We're
here to comb the swamp through from end to end but what we'll find
nobody knows. Keep listening, too. It might be possible we'd hear a
shout that would give us a clue."
"Say now, I hadn't thought of that before," admitted Toby. "If Hen
_is_ being treated harsh-like by that unknown who's got hold of him,
mebbe he might let out a yawp once in a while. There's no harm done in
listening, I reckon, and Landy here could tell if it was him giving
tongue."
Now and then some sound did come to their ears, but of an entirely
different character from the one they were hoping to catch. A
granddaddy bullfrog on some mossy log sent out loud and deep-toned
demands for "more rum! more rum!" Then a saucy bluejay started in to
scold the fellows in the boats for daring to trespass in its preserves,
and how the angry bird did lay it on until they were well beyond reach
of its chatter.
Once a far-away grumble floated faintly to their ears, at which there
was an immediate comparing of opinions. Some seemed to incline to the
belief that it must be distant thunder, and that they were bound to
soon be caught in a storm, which had been creeping unnoticed up on
them, the dense foliage by which they were surrounded preventing them
from learning the fact sooner.
"If you asked me what it was," said Elmer, when he found that the
others were not able to agree, "I'd be inclined to say we're not more
than half a mile away from one side of the swamp, and that there's a
farm lying yonder on which they keep a bull. I imagine it was his
lowing we heard just then."
"Bully, say I, not meaning to be funny either," remarked Landy; "for
I'd a heap sooner believe it was a bovine trying out his bazoo than a
thunder-storm heading this way. It's bad enough to be in constant
danger of getting ducked by falling overboard, without taking chances
overhead in the bargain."
As they did not hear any repetition of the suspicious sound the scouts
finally determined that Elmer had guessed right, and that there must be
a stock farm not a great distance away from the border of the swamp.
The more they pushed on into what seemed the interminable recesses that
surrounded them the greater became their wonder as to how they were to
find those they sought. The chances seemed very much against them; but
then they had an abounding faith in Elmer's sagacity; and he seemed to
be determined on persevering. Doubtless, too, the others reasoned to
themselves, Elmer had some clever plan laid out which would be sprung
when the proper time arrived; and this confidence did much to relieve
their minds as they pressed steadily on.
Lil Artha was apparently bent on making Landy pay for his previous easy
time; he kept the other at work, though frequently the fat scout had to
hold his push-pole under his arm while he mopped his reeking brow.
Perhaps Landy panted very loud on purpose, with the object of causing
his obdurate boss to relent, and give him a chance to "spell" with Mark.
Heedless of sighs and half-heard groans alike, Lil Artha just sat there
and took his ease, while the slave worked and worked as though he were
chained to the galley's oar.
No one ever knew whether it were actually an accident or a deep-laid
scheme on the part of the weary Landy to end this period of torture.
There may be some things even worse than a mere ducking--at least a
stout boy like Landy Smith might think so.
At any rate, none of the scouts happened to be looking very closely at
the time, and consequently they could not say one way or the other.
All they knew was that without any warning Landy was seen to be dragged
out of the stern of the skiff, struggle to clasp his writhing legs
about the pushpole that stood at an oblique angle, caught firmly in the
tenacious mud, and then releasing his hold, flop with a great splash
into the dark-colored water of Sassafras Swamp!