THE 'GATOR HUNTERS.
The captain was laboriously spelling out the scare-head articles by the
flickering firelight.
"Desperadoes at large."
"Last night twelve convicts, all of them life prisoners, escaped from
E. B. Richardson's turpentine camp near Turnbull. The escape was
effected by their overpowering the guards while their supper was being
served them. One guard was killed and the balance were gagged and tied
up to posts in the barracks. The revolters stripped their prisoners of
arms, ammunition and what money they had. Next they broke into the
commissary, taking a large amount of clothing and provisions and
wantonly destroying the rest. They then made their escape on horses
belonging to the guards. As soon as their absence was discovered,
bloodhounds were put upon the trail which led towards the interior.
The dogs were soon completely baffled, however, for the fugitives had
evidently taken to water whenever they came near a pond or creek. This
ruse, as well as the whole uprising, is believed to have been the
headwork of 'Indian Charley,' one of the escaped prisoners, who, it
will be remembered, was drummed out of his tribe and sentenced by the
courts for the murder of a white settler last spring. Small outlying
settlements will rejoice when this body of hardened desperate men are
once more in the grasp of the law."
"I've got it!" exclaimed Charley, so suddenly that the captain looked
up in mild surprise.
"Got what?" he inquired.
"A pretty bad attack of sleepiness," Charley said with assumed
lightness. "I feel all done up to-night. Guess I'll turn in."
But although he was first to turn in, it was along in the wee small
hours of morning before slumber crept in on his tired brain.
He was awakened by Walter shaking him vigorously.
"Get up, you lazy rascal, get up. The sun is half an hour high, and
breakfast is ready. Get up and gaze upon the beautiful St. Johns."
"What does it look like?" inquired Charley, sleepily, as he buckled on
his heavy leggins and strapped on his pistol belt.
"For a dismal, wretched, man-forsaken stretch of country it beats
anything I ever saw," Walter exclaimed in disgust. "The river itself
is about a half mile wide, but it twists, turns, and forks every few
yards so as to puzzle a corporation lawyer. The shores for half a mile
back from the water are nothing but boggy marsh, with here and there a
wooded island. Ugh, the sight of it is enough to make a man homesick."
"Not giving out already, Walt," Charley said, cheerfully, as he made
his way through the boggy marsh to the water to wash, followed by his
chum.
"Not much," said Walter grimly, "I for one am not going back
empty-handed after coming so far. But I'm beginning to realize that
this is not going to be all a pleasure trip. You noticed the article
that the captain read last evening about the convicts escaping. Can it
be they are the party you saw signs of?"
"I believe they are," agreed his chum as they turned back towards the
camp where the captain and Chris were patiently waiting breakfast. "I
may be wrong, but I thought it all over last night and I decided it was
only fair to tell the others what I suspect."
"The captain will want us all to pack right back home," said Walter,
glumly.
His fears proved true, for when Charley related his suspicions over the
frugal breakfast, the captain was visibly worried.
"I'm the cause of leading you into trouble again, boys," he reproached
himself. "However, I reckon thar ain't nothing to be gained by
regrets. As soon as we have finished eating, we'll pack up and head
back for the coast."
But Charley opposed the plan of returning decidedly. "They have had
plenty of chance to kill us off easily on the way here if they had
wanted to," he argued. "Why they haven't done so puzzles me. Perhaps
they fear a searching party would be sent after us if we do not return
promptly. I have a feeling, though, that they are after bigger game,
although I have not the slightest idea what it can be. Anyway, I am
not going back, now, empty-handed, if there were twice as many
jail-birds at my heels."
"I am with you, Charley," Walter said quickly.
"Me too, Massa," grinned Chris, who was plucky enough when he
understood the nature of the threatened danger. "Golly, I jest reckon
dis nigger got to stay and look out for you chillens."
The captain, whose only concern had been for the boys, brought his hand
down on his knee earnestly. "Then I'm with you, lads, till the last
mast carries away. You're the pilot in these waters, Charley. What
course shall we steer now, lad?"
"I think," suggested Charley, modestly, "that the first thing is to fix
up a shelter in case of rain. We must be careful, and if we come into
contact with any of those fellows we must not let them see that we
suspect what they are. That would cause trouble right away, I am sure."
"Go ahead and give your orders, lad; we will carry them out."
"Then I'll deputize Chris to see if he can't get us some fresh fish,"
said Charley with a smile.
Chris, his face beaming, darted away to his saddlebags after his
fishing-tackle. If there was one thing the little darky liked above
all others it was fishing, and wherever he might be, his tackle was
never far away.
As soon as he had departed, Charley, accompanied by the others, set
about selecting a site for their permanent camp.
"You see," Charley explained, "we want a place that we can stand a show
of defending if we should be attacked, and at the same time a place
from which we can escape by water if we have to."
They did not have to go far before they found the very place they were
hunting for, a long, narrow, scantily grassed point that penetrated
through the marsh far out into the river.
"It's just the thing," Charley declared. "We will lead the ponies out
to the end and then fell a few pines across the neck here. That will
form a kind of a fence and keep them from straying away. There's grass
enough on the point to keep them busy for a week at least."
Within half an hour the three eager workers had felled enough pines
across the neck of the point to form a kind of rude stockade. Then
they moved out to the end of the point and began the erection of their
shelter. It was quite primitive and simple. Two saplings about twelve
feet apart were selected as the uprights, and to them, about eight feet
from the ground, two poles were lashed securely with buckskin thongs,
the other ends of the pole being imbedded in the ground. Other smaller
saplings were trimmed and laid across the slanting poles, and on them
were piled layer after layer of fan-like palmetto leaves. In a short
space of time they had completed a lean-to which would protect them
from any storm they were likely to experience at this season of the
year.
"Have you noticed that, Charley?" inquired Walter, as they placed the
last leaves on the lean-to. He pointed to a point, similar to their
own, scarce two thousand yards away, from which rose a thick column of
smoke.
"Yes, I've been watching it for some time," Charley said. "I guess
it's our friends, the convicts. They are late risers. Somehow or
other, Walt, I've got what prospectors call a 'hunch' that they are not
after us and will not bother us as long as they think we are ignorant
of their true character."
"I'll never trouble trouble 'till trouble troubles me," hummed Walter,
cheerfully.
"A good motto," said his chum gravely, "but nevertheless it's better
still to be ready for trouble if it does come. Now we must provide a
means of retreat. Come, let's open packs one and two, we'll need their
contents soon anyway."
Packs one and two, when opened, revealed bundles of numbered pieces of
tough, thin flexible steel and packages of thick water-proofed canvas.
Under the captain's skilled direction, the steel was quickly framed
together, the canvas stretched over it, and in a short time two canvas
canoes were floating lightly at their painters at the end of the point.
All had been too engrossed in their labors to note the passage of time
until the captain snapped open his old-fashioned silver watch.
"One o'clock," he exclaimed in surprise.
Charley and Walter looked at each other apprehensively. "What can be
keeping Chris?" Walter cried.
"Maybe he is having good luck and hates to quit," suggested Charley.
"Let's give him a while longer."
But two o'clock came and no Chris appeared.
"Get your guns, boys," commanded the captain. "We must go hunt him.
Something's the matter."