ADRIFT IN THE SWAMP
Meanwhile Tom Wagstaff and Jim McGovern, the two youths from New York,
found themselves involved in a series of singular and stirring
incidents.
It will be admitted that they were not fond of meeting the kind of
persons who brought the old stage to a standstill in the dismal depths
of Black Bear Swamp, and, when they saw an opportunity to leave, lost
no time in doing so.
They were trembling in their seats, wondering what would be the next
act of the dreaded fellow dimly seen in the gloom, when Ethan Durrell
performed his brave exploit which ended in the capture of the rogue.
“Now’s our chance!” whispered Jim, who saw the couple struggling on
the ground; “bimeby he’ll kill that greenhorn and next the driver and
then _our_ turn will come.”
“If that’s so, I don’t see any use in waiting,” replied Tom, losing no
time in scrambling out of the coach, and dropping to the ground in
such haste that he fell forward on his hands and knees.
The driver and the New Englander were too much engaged at that moment
to pay any heed to the youths, who were in such desperate haste to get
away from the spot that they dashed among the trees at the imminent
risk of seriously bruising themselves.
After pressing forward until they were nearly out of breath, they came
to a halt in the depths of the wood for consultation. They had managed
to reach a point some distance from the highway, where they felt safe
for the time.
“It’s lucky we were cool enough to bring our guns with us,” was the
bright remark of McGovern, “or there’s no telling what might have
happened.”
“Do you think those robbers will follow us, Jim?”
“Of course they will; you don’t suppose they want us to testify in
court against them and have them hanged, do you?”
“But we didn’t see them plain enough to know them again.”
“That don’t make any difference,” was the brilliant reply, “for I
would know that fellow’s voice among a thousand.”
“I guess maybe you’re right; it won’t do for us to go back to the
road, for we would be sure to run against them.”
“No; we’ll push on through the woods till we come out somewhere. If we
were only acquainted with the country we would know what to do, but
there’s no saying where we’ll fetch up.”
At such times a person feels safer while in motion, and, though the
young men had no more idea of the points of the compass than if adrift
in mid-ocean, they pressed on, impelled by their anxiety to place all
the space possible between themselves and the stage-robbers, who, they
believed, numbered three at least.
They agreed that the New Englander was the most foolish of persons in
attacking the criminal, for, even if he succeeded in bearing him to
the ground and overcoming him, his companions had already rallied to
his help and would quickly dispatch him and the driver.
Jim and Tom listened for sounds of the conflict, and the fact that
they heard no shouts or more reports of fire-arms did not lessen their
belief that it was all over with Lenman and Durrell.
The boys were still picking their way through the lonely woods when
they found their feet sinking in the spongy earth and were stopped by
a morass which grew worse at every step.
“It won’t do to go any farther over this road,” said Wagstaff, who was
a few steps in advance, “for the water is getting deeper and I don’t
believe there are any boats for us to use.”
The obvious course was to turn back and make an abrupt change in their
route. This was done and they soon were walking over the dry leaves.
“Tom,” whispered his companion, who was still a few feet behind him,
“somebody is following us.”
“You don’t say so!” exclaimed Wagstaff, stopping short and looking
around in the gloom; “are you sure of that?”
“Listen!”
Both were silent. There certainly was a rustling of the leaves behind
them, which could not have been made by the wind, for hardly a breath
of air stirred the branches. The violent disturbance that had so
alarmed them when riding in the coach had entirely subsided and was
succeeded by a calm that gave no sign of the flurry.
“It’s one of them robbers,” was the frightened reply of Tom, “and he’s
after us sure enough.”
“You’re right; what shall we do?”
“How would it work to climb a tree?”
“What good would _that_ do?” was the sensible question of Jim.
“He wouldn’t know where we were, and by and by would give up the
hunt.”
“That won’t work. Why, Tom, I forgot; we’ve got our guns and they’re
loaded; why not use _them_?”
“That’s so. I didn’t think of that, but we must look out that he don’t
get in the first shot, I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” added Tom,
stepping so close to his friend that his mouth almost touched his ear;
“you walk around back of him, so as to place him between us; then
we’ll come toward each other and the first one that gets sight of him
will drop him.”
Jim was not over pleased with the plan, since it looked to him as if
his task was to be the most dangerous, but he could not well refuse.
He therefore faced the other way, and began advancing with the utmost
care, making a circuit to the right so as to be certain of not running
against the dreaded individual.
In fact, the young man made a larger circuit than was necessary, but
he kept his bearings, so that when he once more approached Tom it was
in a direct line and the stranger was between them.
McGovern held his rifle tightly grasped, ready to raise and fire the
moment he caught sight of their enemy. While there was a little light
here and there among the trees, it gave neither him nor his companion
any help. It was so early in the autumn that few leaves had fallen,
and, had he not used extreme care, literally feeling every step of his
way, he would have been injured by the projecting limbs and the
numerous trunks of the trees.
While it may be supposed that the strategy of the young men had placed
their foe at great disadvantage, they found themselves hindered by the
impossibility of giving or receiving any mutual signals. Since the
stranger was closer to both than Tom and Jim were to each other, any
attempt to send word over his head was certain to be caught and
understood by him. All that could be done, therefore, by the young men
was to follow the lines hastily marked out before they separated.
Jim having approached his friend as far as was prudent, stopped to
decide what to do next. The boys were not thoughtless enough to lose
sight of the danger to themselves in carrying out their plan. Since
they were coming together each was liable to mistake the other for an
enemy. They had not thought of this at first, but both remembered it
now, and each decided not to fire at any person who might come into
view until first challenging him.
In no other way could a fatal mistake be guarded against, and when,
therefore, Jim had stood motionless a minute or two, and was sure he
heard the same rustling in front, he simply brought his gun to his
shoulder.
“Tom, is that you?” he asked, in a subdued voice that could not fail
to reach the stranger.
The noise ceased, but there was no answer. The youth now slightly
raised his voice:
“If you don’t speak I’ll fire! I see you and won’t miss.”
The stillness continued unbroken, and the stranger did not stir. It
was impossible in the darkness to make him out clearly, but sufficient
could be seen to insure the success of a shot at so short a range.
“I’m going to fire, look out! _One—two—three!_”
Mr. McGovern ought to have reflected that no man, especially one
trained in wrong-doing, would stand up in this fashion and wait for
another to perforate him; but at the utterance of the last word Jim
let fly straight at the figure, and what is more, he struck it.
The hair of the youth seemed to lift his hat from his head, as a
strange cry broke the stillness, and he heard the body, after a single
spasmodic leap, fall on the leaves, where, after a few struggles, it
lay still.
“Have you killed him?” called the horrified Tom, hurrying from his
station a few rods away.
“I’ve killed _something_” was Jim’s reply, who, drawing his
pocket safe, struck a match and held it over his head, while both
stooped over and examined the trophy of their skill and strategy.
“Jim,” said Tom, the next moment, “I’ll agree never to say anything
about this, for I’m in it as bad as you.”
“It’s a bargain,” was the reply of the other; “we’ll never tell Bob,
even, for he would plague us to death.”
The object before them was a six months’ old calf. It had probably
become lost in the woods, and, hearing persons walking, followed them
with a dim idea that they were friends and would take care of it. The
result was a sad example of misplaced confidence.
Certain now that nothing was to be feared from the rogues that must
have disposed of Lenman and Durrell long before, the youths resumed
their progress through the wood with the same aimless effort that had
marked their journey from the first.
It was not long after their incident with the calf that both noticed
that they had entered what seemed to be a valley of slight descent.
The sound of running water warned them to be careful of their steps,
though it was evident the stream was small.
Wagstaff still kept his place slightly in advance, and was picking his
way with the same care he had shown from the first, when he stopped
short once more.
“What is it?” asked his companion, stepping to his elbow.
“What the mischief can that be?” asked Tom, in reply.
Although Jim could not see the extended arm, he knew his friend was
pointing at something which was now observed by him, and whose
appearance mystified him beyond expression.
“It must be a ghost,” he whispered; “I can’t make it out!”
“Don’t stir; wait and see; gracious, it’s moving!”