ON THE TRAIL.
Tom Smith looked as though he were himself rather pleased over his find.
Thad had an idea that the swamp guide had been basing a part of his
plans on some theory he had formed; and was tickled to discover how well
it had turned out.
Under his directions a guard was also set over the boat, with orders to
remain in hiding, but constantly ready to spring upon the hunted party,
in case he should manage to elude the main body, and make his way to the
secret hiding-place of his boat, with the intention of fleeing from the
swamp.
And when all these little arrangements had been completed, Tom Smith
passed to the other side of the sedge grass, and showed them what seemed
to be a sure-enough trail, leading directly into the scrub, and
undoubtedly only recently made.
“Wait up for just a minute or so, will you, Tom?” said Thad; and while
the boy did not go further in order to explain what he wished to do,
when the other scouts saw him move hastily along, and drop down on his
hands and knees beside the trail, somehow they just seemed to
instinctively guess what was in his mind and heart.
Thad was looking for the track of _little feet_ there; such as would
betray the fact that a child had accompanied the man when he passed to
and fro from the boat to the secret hiding-place!
All of them fairly held their breath while waiting to hear the result of
the scout-master’s investigation. They knew what his ability was in the
line of reading “signs,” and felt no hesitation about believing that if
any one present could discover the impression of the girl’s shoes in the
soil, Thad would.
He got up presently, and those who had seen him almost tenderly touch
the ground in certain places with his hand, knew before he said a word
that his search had certainly met with abundant success.
“Yes, he has the girl along with him,” Thad went on to say, softly,
noticing the anxious faces of his chums; “and so far as that goes, the
story that was sent up North was true. But then, we will have to wait a
little before we know whether she is really his daughter or—little
Polly!” and his voice was very tender as he just softly breathed that
name which had been almost constantly in his mind of late.
The sheriff had drawn near the guide, and seemed desirous of learning
something more about the expected hiding-place of the fugitive from
justice; and thus having his hands doubly strengthened for the
anticipated fray.
“Tell us a leetle more about it, Tom,” he urged; “how did ye ever come
to think Jasper he’d be a keepin’ undeh cover heah; and what does it
look like? We-all ain’t agoin’ to get a chanct to talk agin, I reckons,
an’ let it all be said an’ done now.”
The guide did not seem to be unwilling to rest a bit before starting out
on the last leg of the “closing-in” process. And no doubt he quite
agreed with the sheriff in what the other said about the man who was
forewarned being doubly armed.
“Why, yuh see, Shurff,” he began, softly, “I done took consid’able
int’rest in everything ’bout this heah ole swamp; an’ when I fust cotch
theh story ’bout theh Jasper fambly, I investigates, an’ larns how a
cupple o’ theh boys used tuh hide out in the swamp days at a time, when
theh ole man he was riled at ’em, an’ nobody ever cud find out whar they
stayed.”
“I see that same just got your spunk up,” remarked the officer with a
grin, “and ye was detarmined ye’d find it out fo’ y’self, eh, Tom?”
“W’ich I did afore I was satisfied,” continued the other, “an’ we’en I
larned as how a Jasper hed kim back, tuh disappear like to Alligator
Swamp, w’y, don’t yuh see, I jest nat’rally concludes as how he must be
one o’ them as used to play hide an’ seek thar. So I reckons I’d know
whar tuh find theh same; an’ arter runnin’ acrost that ole boat whar we
did, I hain’t any doubts ’bout hit. He’s thar, as sure’s my name’s
Thomas Beauregarde Smith.”
“But tell us somethin’ about the nest, now,” urged the sheriff.
“This heah trail’ll lead us plumb thar, see if she don’t,” remarked the
guide, wagging his head with conviction. “Yuh see, tuh git tuh the place
it’s fust necessary tuh cross a big bed o’ muck whar a sunken ridge
lies. I had tuh _feel_ my way acrost mighty keerful; ’cause if yuh takes
a wrong step chances are yuh’ll be up tuh yuh waist in mud; an’ if so be
thar hain’t nobody ’round thet section tuh lend yuh a helpin’ hand yuh
kin make up yuh mind it’s the end. I seen quicksand sum in my time, but
they ain’t a sarkimstance alongside that muck fo’ suckin’ yuh in.”
Bumpus tightened his fists as he heard this stated. He seemed to have a
sudden inspiration, or fear, and it was to the effect that if any single
person in all that host were unlucky enough to slip from that concealed
ledge, and test the depth of that muck bed, he would be the wretched
victim—was it not always the case that he had to play the part of the
“goat” in any performance?
“But once over thet bad part an’ the rest is easy sailin’, Shurff,” the
guide went on to say, confidently, “fo’ yuh see, they’s a sorter wooded
island thar; an’ outside o’ them Jasper boys an’ me, I done reckon as
how nobody ever did find theh way tuh git oveh thar. All I asks yuh is
tuh keep right still till we kin kinder s’round theh shack an’ s’prise
him!”
“Then there is some sort of house, is there?” asked Thad, thinking again
of the little girl, and what a cover over her head might mean in wet
weather.
“I allow as thar be, suh; leastwise ’twar thar w’en I larst been oveh.
You see, it happens as how the ’gators they don’t use thet island, frum
sum cause er other, an’ so I neveh keered tuh stay thar any time; so
it’s ben sum yeahs sense larst I crossed. But I hain’t forgot theh way,
I reckons, an’ I’ll guide yuh thar, safe an’ sound.”
“Glad to heah ye say that, Tom,” remarked the sheriff: “and fo’ the sake
of this heah fine boy I sure hopes that we’ll find his sister, too.”
“Well,” remarked Thad, turning his eyes toward the officer, with a
feeling of gratitude in that Fortune had raised up such a sympathetic
friend just when they were in need of help; “you can be certain that I’m
hoping all the while the same way. When we get back to town I’ll find
letters there from my uncle, and begging me to wire him how it has come
out; and I trust that the news I send will be just the one word:
‘Found!’”
“And as for me,” Bumpus was heard to say, softly, “I’m also hoping to
get a letter in answer to the one I wrote my ma on the way down, asking
her if I’d delivered that medicine she sent me for. Hope to goodness the
answer is ‘yes,’ because it’ll be a turrible load off my mind.”
“Five cents’ worth of worry, and you’d think it spelt ten thousand
dollars!” jeered Giraffe; but he was careful to say this in the ear of
the stout scout, for he did not want Thad to know he was still keeping
up this badgering process.
“I don’t care for the amount, and you know that,” said Bumpus, in an
irritable fashion that was strange for him, but might be laid to the
cold in the head from which he had now been suffering for several days;
“it’s just the _principle_ of the thing that hurts me. My honor as a
scout is in question. I hate to think of having failed the only mother
I’ve got, when she trusted and depended on me. Get that, do you,
Giraffe?”
“Oh! sure, only how many mothers would you expect to have?” the other
went on; but Bumpus, having had his say, relapsed into a dignified
silence.
Thad had taken his position alongside the guide when they started out
again. As they now had a trail to follow there was no longer any
necessity for depending on the knowledge of Tom Smith, and his broad
acquaintance with the intricacies of the swamp. Left to themselves the
scouts could have easily carried the expedition safely along from this
point; for they were well versed in the secrets of woodcraft.
And as he walked along by the side of Alligator Smith the scout-master
kept his fond gaze fastened, a part of the time, upon every fresh
indentation of those heels belonging to the shoes of the girl who was in
the company of the fugitive, Jasper.
What hopes and fears must be passing constantly through the mind of Thad
as he contemplated those dainty footprints. Many and many a time had he
yearned to be as well off as some of his chums, in the way of having
some one near and dear to him, whom he could love and protect; and now
that there seemed a possible chance of a little sister being
miraculously given to him through the working of Fate, the boy could
hardly believe that he was not dreaming.
At the same time he did not forget his scout schooling, and that he must
always be on the alert. So from time to time he would take his eyes away
from the faint trail ahead, to scan the bushes, and seek for any sign
that might spell danger.
When a lesson has been well learned it soon becomes what might be called
“second nature;” and so Thad, even in the present excited condition of
his mind, could not help acting as he believed a sagacious scout should
when on duty, and following in the wake of a dangerous man.
Perhaps it was a good thing he kept himself on the alert, for while Tom
Smith was a woodsman, and might have seen what attracted the attention
of the scout-master, there could be no telling. And had it not been
discovered, they might have found what Giraffe would call “rougher
sledding” later on.
They happened to be in a particularly thick patch of scrub and woodland
where Thad felt more than half convinced that if the fugitive had
thought to lay any sort of trap the springing of which would give him
warning of the coming of enemies he must have chosen this place; when he
made a little discovery that caused him to instantly clutch the arm of
Tom Smith, and say softly:
“Hold on!”
Others of the party gripped their guns, and looked eagerly around, under
the impression that Thad must have sighted a hovering figure back of
some tree; and no doubt half expecting to hear the crash of a gun break
the silence that hung over the spot. But nothing of the kind came to
pass. Instead, Thad drew the guide several steps along, and then pointed
to the brush close at their feet.
“Well, what d’ye think of that?” Bumpus remarked, as he pushed forward
the better to see; “if he hasn’t put an old rope across the path just to
trip us up, and make all the trouble he can.”
Giraffe looked scornfully at the fat scout.
“Think so, do you, Bumpus?” he remarked, with a lofty sense of his own
sagacity. “Well, if you happened to trip over that same rope, chances
are now you’d hear a gun go off. P’raps the load _might_ miss you,
though I don’t see how anything could do that; but all the same, the
bang of the gun’d tell Mr. Jasper it was time he took to the woods, and
ran like a scared rabbit. So you see what Thad’s shut off by his find.”