BOUND TO SUCCEED
No wonder the young scout-master was surprised and thrilled by what he
saw as he crouched there amidst the bushes, and stared over their tops.
Not more than sixty or seventy yards away at the most there appeared to
be a violent commotion among another bunch of brush, as though a number
of unseen parties might be forcing their way through the obstruction.
Even as Elmer, and his chums as well, looked, a figure burst out,
quickly followed by a second, a third, and then still more, until in
all there were six in the queer procession that seemed to be heading
directly for the late hide-out of the swamp fugitives.
What startled the boys most of all was the fact that they knew several
of those who went to make up that strange company. First, there was
Johnny Spreen, the bound boy at the Trotter farm, and who had given
them so many points concerning the swamp he knew so well.
Just behind Johnny walked a consequential looking personage dressed in
a blue uniform, and, with a glittering shield fastened on his left
breast. Well did the Hickory Ridge boys know the Chief of Police in
their own town. Behind him came a second and a third man, also in
uniform, whom they knew to be local "cops;" while the next had the
appearance of having been impressed into the posse; then at the tail
end of the procession came Farmer Trotter, carrying an old musket that
may have done duty in the Civil War, half a century back, for it looked
like a fossil.
"Gosh!"
That was Lil Artha "letting off steam," as he would have termed it; but
he uttered his favorite expression so very low that there was not the
slightest danger of it's being overheard.
"Don't wink an eyelash if you can help it, fellows," whispered Elmer,
who apparently, for reasons of his own, did not want the posse to know
of their presence so near by.
Of course, the others instantly knew what he meant, and if they had
been made of stone it is doubtful whether they could have maintained a
more rigid attitude as they crouched there in the bushes.
Fortunately, all of the posse seemed to be looking ahead. Perhaps they
had been warned by the bound boy that the place to which he was taking
them was not very far distant, which would account for their eagerness.
So they passed on. Elmer kept whispering to his followers not to make
a move unless it was to drop down flat on their faces. Apparently, not
even Landy felt inclined to do this. As long as the Chief and his
gallant posse remained in sight everyone crouched there and took it out
in staring.
Then when even Farmer Trotter had been swallowed up in the scrub, sighs
might have been heard arising from some of the boys' lips, as though
they were relieved to have the suspense ended.
"Never glimpsed us!" remarked Mark, triumphantly.
"Blind as bats in the day-time!" added Landy.
"They didn't happen to turn this way," said Elmer; "and since you all
kept so still I don't believe they'd have noticed us even if they had
looked. I want to say it was well done, boys."
"That was Johnny Spreen, wasn't it?" asked Landy, as though he wanted
to have someone corroborate what his own eyes had told him.
"It certainly was," said Lil Artha. "The farmer wouldn't let him come
with us, but I guess the Chief just swore them both into his posse, and
then they had to come or run up against the law. A sheriff or a police
Chief can do that, you understand; no matter whether a man wants to
serve or not, he's got to."
"And you all noticed, I reckon," remarked Chatz, "that they were making
straight fo' the hide-out where Hen and that man spent the night. That
shows Johnny must have figured out after we left him that it would be a
good place for hiding. What do you all say about it?"
"Oh! there's no question but what you're correct, old top!" Lil Artha
told him in his queer way. "But I'm real tickled because Elmer didn't
take a notion to hail the Chief, and take him in on our deal."
Elmer laughed at that.
"It wasn't any 'Hail to the Chief' this time, you see, Lil Artha," he
remarked. "We have borne the heat and burden of the day, and it wasn't
right that that crowd, coming in at the tail end of the chase, should
share alike with us. Besides, you remember we decided we wanted to get
at poor Hen _before_ the law could lay a hand on him."
"So we did," muttered Chatz.
"But Elmer," objected Toby, "supposing they get to that place, and find
the birds flown, don't you reckon they'll notice that we've been there?"
"So far as the Chief and his men go," returned the other, "I wouldn't
believe them capable of finding out anything except that the camp was
empty. But all the same I suppose they will know about us."
"Meaning that Johnny will see our tracks, and read the story there; is
that it, Elmer?" queried Lil Artha, quick to catch on to the meaning of
the patrol leader's words.
"Yes, Johnny will tell, because he's been hunting furs so long that he
knows a heap about following tracks. When he finds out there were a
lot of boys in the camp he'll guess we discovered the place."
"Mebbe they'll take it for granted we caught the birds, and be ready to
throw up the game then and there?" suggested Toby.
"Hardly that," advised Elmer; "Johnny ought to be able to tell them
different. He would soon learn after looking things over that all our
tracks were made _after_ those of the man, when we left the camp. You
see that must tell him we were pursuing the fellow. I put myself in
Johnny's place; and that's how I believe I'd figure it out."
"A good way to do, too, believe me," said Mark.
"Then in that case," Lil Artha continued, "they'll be coming along
after us before a great while. Whew! if this doesn't beat anything I
ever took part in. It's a continuous procession, boys, winding in and
out through the high lands of old Sassafras Swamp--first Hen and the
man who controls his actions; then seven bold scouts of the Wolf
Patrol; and finally our big puffball of a Chief and his valiant posse
bringing up the rear."
"But we don't want them to overtake us, do we?" asked Landy, actually
meaning to hint that they had better be moving on, which was a
remarkable thing to enter the head of the Smith boy, always the first
to desire a halt.
"We do not," Lil Artha informed him, plainly, "and to prevent such a
horrible catastrophe from happening we expect to be on the jump again
right away, doubling our pace it may be, Landy. The worst is yet to
come, remember."
"Huh! you can't scare me any, Lil Artha," the fat scout told his
tormentor; for he knew very well that with a trail to follow they could
hardly proceed any more rapidly than before.
Progress was immediately resumed. They went forward in about the same
manner as before, with Mark keeping Landy company at the tail-end of
the procession. The situation was now growing more and more serious,
and much depended on whether they could manage to overtake the
fugitives before night came on. A whole day's tramping through the
intricate recesses of the swamp, just as the dry land afforded footing,
was a monumental task that must try the nerve of the best of them; and
Landy, if not one or two others, would be apt to drop out of the ranks
long before sunset came.
Elmer, however, was hopeful that they must overtake those they chased
long before such utter weariness seized upon them. He knew that Hen
Condit himself, although no weakling, could not stand hours upon hours
of continual walking, especially when it consisted of such uncertain
footing as fell to their portion under those conditions.
Complete exhaustion then might compel Hen to beg his companion to
either leave him or else order a halt. One way or the other suited the
scouts just as well, so long as they overtook Hen.
When Landy found that he was puffing from his exertions he took an
extra grip on himself and would not listen to Lil Artha when the tall
scout proposed that he drop out.
"All you have to do is to squat where we leave you, Landy," the other
had told him in a wheedling way; "and after we're done our business
we'll sure promise to look you up again, won't we, Elmer?"
"Nothing doing," snapped Landy, decisively; "what d'ye take me for, Lil
Artha, to desert my poor chum Hen when he needs help so much? I'm a
sticker I want you to know. Adhesive plasters haven't got anything on
me when it comes to standing by you through thick and thin. No use
wasting your breath; save it for your work, say I!"
"Let him be, Lil Artha," said the patrol leader, hardly knowing whether
it was fidelity to a fellow-scout in distress that influenced Landy, or
a dreadful fear lest he find himself left alone in the midst of the
dismal swamp.
"Why yes," added Mark, "Landy is doing all right, even if he does
wheeze more'n is good for him. But he hasn't stumbled more than six
times in the last half hour, which is some record for Landy, you
understand, follows [Transcriber's note: fellows?]."
Apparently, Landy took this as a great compliment, for his perspiring
face was set in a grin of triumph as he thrust out his tongue at Lil
Artha, as much as to say:
"See, Mister Smarty, others appreciate my good qualities if you don't.
So just mind your own business, and leave me alone to attend to mine.
I'll get there or burst a blood-vessel trying. That's the Smith nature
every time."
Having heard Landy talk in this strain many a time the rest of the
scouts could easily put these expressions in his mouth, though he was
too short of breath just then to give them utterance; looks, however,
often count more than mere words.
They had been making splendid progress all this while, and must have
covered considerable distance since the time when they watched the
official posse wind its way past their hiding-place.
Lil Artha and Elmer had once or twice held a low consultation after
making an examination of the tracks they were following.
The others, listening to what the leaders said, found they were
comparing notes, and that it appeared to be the opinion of both Hen was
getting pretty tired. This they could make out in various ways known
to scouts who had made a business of reading the story to be found in
tracks.
"You can see how uneven Hen walks most of the time," said Lil Artha;
"he wobbles even worse than Landy here, which goes to show he's getting
pretty tuckered out. Can you blame the poor fellow when p'raps he's
weak from hunger? If any of us had to go without a bite to eat all day
we'd get wobbly on our pins, too."
There was no dissenting voice raised to this assertion; eating is so
essential to the average boy that nothing on earth can compensate for a
dearth of food at the regular intervals.
"Then we saw several places where Hen had sat down to rest, you
remember," Elmer reminded the other.
"Yes, and the last time it struck us both that the man had yanked him
to his feet again by main force; which I take it wasn't as nice and
kind of that bully as you might expect," Lil Artha went on to say.
"Oh! the coward!" Chatz was heard to growl, and the look on his face as
he said those few words told what he meant to do if ever the
opportunity came his way to strike a blow for the abducted chum.
Filled with renewed determination after this little conference, they
once more took up their task. Lil Artha likened their progress to the
ways of the Siberian wolf that follows its quarry day and night until
in the end its very persistence wins the victory.
"We're in this to the finish," he was fond of saying whenever he had
the chance, "and sooner or later we'll get him. The boys of the Wolf
Patrol mean to stick to their name, and run the prey to the earth. He
just can't get away nohow. All we've got to do is to keep moving, and
believe the game is going to come our way. Everybody put his best foot
forward again. It's for the honor of the patrol, boys, that we get
hold of Hen Condit before the Chief takes him in."
It was now two hours and more since they had started on this new trail.
Before this time no doubt the posse must have reached the deserted
hide-out, and learned that the birds had flown. Yes, it was even
possible that they were coming along the plain trail the seven scouts
had left behind them.
Figuring then that the bulky Chief and his men would not exceed their
own rate of progress, they could count on almost two full hours'
advantage over the others. That surely ought to be an abundance of
time in which to carry out their plans, granting that they could
overtake the fugitives.
Elmer had again cautioned them to keep still. The swamp was very
silent where they now found themselves, and sounds could be carried to
some distance under such conditions.
Landy was getting on fairly well, considering a number of things that
he had to contend with. Indeed, Elmer meant to tell him as much when
he had the chance; for he felt that the stout scout deserved
encouragement. What might seem trifles to some of the others assumed
the aspect of mountains in the eyes of one who was not gifted with
agility by Nature, and had to carry a far greater weight with him than
any of his mates were obliged to.
But here was Lil Artha coming to a full stop again. Looking at him the
others found that the tracker did not seem to be bending over to
examine the trail more closely, as had occurred many times before.
On the contrary, Lil Artha was now raising his head in an expectant
attitude. Landy even conjectured that he must be observing a
woodpecker boring a hole in some rotten tree-top, and was about to try
and follow the supposed line of vision on the part of Lil Artha when he
heard him say something.
It was only a brief sentence, but it meant worlds to those tired trail
followers.
"I smell smoke--wood smoke at that!" was what Lil Artha hissed, as he
continued to sniff vigorously.