IN CAMP ON TENSAS BAYOU
Darkness had fallen when the Pony Rider Boys party finally had picked
their way through the outer edge of the jungle, and, despite the
darkness, had continued on through the tropical growth, guided
unerringly by Billy Lilly to the site he had chosen for their camp.
"Billy must belong to the owl family," was Tad Butler's comment as
their guide rode confidently ahead, calling back directions to them.
Behind Lilly rode another and not unimportant member of the party.
This was Ichabod. Ichabod was of the color of the night, black. He
had been recommended by Major Clowney as a man who would be useful to
them. Ichabod was as solemn and dignified as an African tribal
chief. In fact, he was an excellent understudy for Stacy Brown when
the latter was in his most dignified mood.
Ichabod could cook, could make and break camp and, what was almost as
useful, he could handle the hunting dogs, and knew the canebrake
fairly well, but Ichabod was afraid of snakes; that was his worst
failing. One afraid of snakes had better keep out of the canebrake.
The dozen hunting dogs that Lilly had brought with him were in charge
of the colored man, who had handled them before and whom the dogs
knew and liked.
"File left. Look out that you don't get into the water," called the
guide. "Here we are. Make camp."
"I will go cut the firewood," said Tad.
"No, no," objected the guide. "I was speaking to Ichabod. You all
remain on your horses until we get the fire going and I have beaten
up the camp site."
"Why so?" questioned Butler.
"On account of the reptiles."
"Oh, fudge!" grunted Tad. The other boys laughed and slipped from
their saddles.
"I guess you don't know my boys," objected the Professor, who, not to
be outdone, descended from his saddle.
"As you wish. But remember, I am responsible for these young men,"
answered Billy.
"We are responsible for ourselves, sir, and we are not exactly
tenderfeet, Mr. Lilly," said Tad. "If you will show me some firewood
trees I will do as I suggested, get wood for the campfire."
"Leave that to me. You will have plenty of opportunity to work after
we get settled to our trails. You will break your neck if you go to
floundering about over the cypress knees."
The boys did not know what was meant by "cypress knees," and at that
moment there were other matters to occupy their minds, so they did
not ask. The boys began working away at their packs, loosening the
cinches, piling the packs on the ground in an orderly manner born of
long experience in the woods. They did not need a light to do this
work. In fact, they could just as easily have pitched camp in the
darkness as in the light. In this instance they did not do so,
knowing that Lilly had definite plans as to where and how the camp
should be made.
They soon heard the sound of the guide's axe. Ichabod was humming to
himself, the dogs were barking and the horses neighing, while the
Pony Rider Boys were shouting jokes at one another.
"Where is that fat boy?" called Rector, not having heard Chunky's
voice during the last few minutes.
"I don't know. Stacy!" called the Professor.
Tad struck a match and holding it above his head glanced keenly about
him. The light revealed Chunky sitting with his back against a tree,
his head tilted back, mouth wide open, sound asleep. Tad had the fat
boy by the collar instantly.
"Here, here! Whatcher want?" demanded Stacy rebelliously as he was
roughly jerked to his feet.
"Don't you know better than to lie down in a place like this?"
demanded Tad.
"Why not?"
"You don't know what there may be about here. Didn't you hear the
guide say there were reptiles here?"
"Re--reptiles?"
"Yes."
"Oh-h-h, wow!"
"If you must sleep, try it standing up. Get on your horse and take a
nap. That will be safer," advised Butler.
"I--I guess I don't want to go to sleep," stammered Stacy.
"I thought not. Here is some punk, if you want it, Mr. Lilly."
"How do you chance to have punk?"
"Oh, I frequently find it useful, especially in wet weather,"
answered Tad.
"I have some of the same in my kit, but it isn't available just now.
There, that's better," nodded Billy.
A little crackling flame had leaped up flinging flickering shadows
over the scene. The dogs were sitting about on their haunches
regarding the proceedings expectantly, knowing that supper time would
soon be at hand.
"Where shall we pitch your tent, Mr. Lilly?" asked Tad.
"I will take care of that. You may pitch your own if you wish. You
know how and where better than I can tell you."
Tad did. He laid out the guide's tent so that the opening would be
towards the fire, placing it as close to the fire as possible, almost
too close it seemed.
"Why so close?" questioned Lilly, tugging at his long moustache.
"To catch some of the smoke from the campfire," replied Butler.
"For what?"
"To drive away mosquitoes. I hear there are a few here."
"You'll do," declared Lilly with an emphatic nod. "I guess you
_have_ been in the woods before."
The tents were arranged in a semicircle close about the fire that was
now blazing higher and higher.
"Is there any danger of firing the forest here, Mr. Lilly?" asked
Butler.
"No, not here. Everything is too damp. All this part of the forest
is really a swamp. Wherever you find the cypress you will find moist
ground."
"But where is the canebrake?" questioned Ned.
"On the ridges, the higher ground."
"Near here?"
"Within a few paces," answered the guide. "I will fetch some of it
in to show you after we have had our supper. I guess you boys must
be hungry, eh?"
"Hungry?" cried Stacy. "No, just empty, that's all."
Ichabod was already at work getting the supper, and tempting odors
filled the air, with Stacy Brown squatting down with the dogs,
greedily watching the preparations for the evening meal. While this
was being done, Lilly was trampling down the brush, slashing the
thorn bushes with his long bush knife, clearing away, so far as
possible, all hiding places for trouble-hunting reptiles.
Smoking hot waffles were served to the hungry boys for supper. The
voice of the fat boy under the influence of the waffles soon was
stilled, his cheeks were puffed out and his eyes were rolling
expressively. Chunky was very near to perfect happiness.
"The bayou is just back of the tents," warned Lilly. "Be careful
that none of you falls into the water in the darkness. I should not
advise much roaming about in the night until after you have become
accustomed to this forest. You will find it far different from any
you have ever visited before."
"I have observed as much," nodded the Professor. "But what are those
peculiar formations that I see all about us?"
"Yes, I was wondering about them," said Tad.
"You mean the cypress knees?"
"Those long, crab-like formations standing up from the ground three
or four feet," said the Professor.
"They are the cypress knees. In reality they are a sort of root of
the tree itself. They make great hiding places for all sorts of
reptiles and small animals, and they are the finest obstacles in the
world to fall over."
"I should think the horses would break their legs over them," said
Tad.
"A horse unfamiliar with travel in the swamp would do so. But you
will find your animals very wise. They know the game down here,
though up in the Rockies they undoubtedly would break their own necks
and those of their riders as well."
"Every man and beast to his trade," observed the Professor
reflectively.
Billy Lilly agreed with a long nod.
"Ichabod, bring in an armful of cane so the gentlemen may see it," he
directed.
The sticks that Ichabod fetched resembled bamboo more than anything
the boys ever had seen. These canes they found to be hollow, having
no pith, being divided on the inside every few inches into sections.
"As I have already said," continued the guide, "the canebrake
stretches along slight rises of ground for miles and miles, forming
a very striking feature. The canes stand so thickly that they crowd
out other growths and make fine hiding places for wild animals and
reptiles. They stand in what might be called ranks, each but a few
inches from its companion, extending to a height of fifteen or twenty
feet, straight and tall."
"They should make fine fishpoles," said Tad.
"They do. They are used for that purpose. The leaves commence about
two-thirds the height of the plant, and the peculiar feature of the
leaves is that they seem to grow right out of the stalk."
"The cypress trees appear to be very tall here," said Professor
Zepplin.
"Yes, they are. They are said to be rivaled in size and height only
by some of the red gums and white oaks. In towering majesty they are
really unsurpassed by any tree in the eastern forests. The redwoods
of the Sierras, of course, can't be beaten by anything else in this
country. There are thousands of acres of cypress and cane down here,
and for a place in which to get lost the canebrake has no equal. You
don't want to get lost in this forest, young gentlemen."
"We don't intend to," answered Rector.
"If we did it would not be the first time that we have lost our way,"
laughed Tad.
"Yes, Tad and I got lost up in the Maine woods. I never had so much
fun in my life," piped Stacy. "But then there weren't any creeping
things up there. I guess I'll go to bed. I'm sleepy."
"It is time we all turned in," agreed the Professor.
But there was not much sleep for the Pony Rider Boys for a long time.
The unfamiliar noises of this suffocating swamp, the buzzing of the
mosquitoes fighting to get into the tents, but driven back by the
smoke, kept sleep away also, except in the case of Stacy Brown who
began snoring almost as soon as he touched his bed.
A weird hooting and yelling that seemed to come from every direction
at once brought the boys to a sitting posture about an hour after
they had turned in.
"Good gracious, what's that?" demanded Ned.
"I don't know," answered Tad. "It isn't like anything I ever heard.
I guess it must be some kind of wild animal."
"Those are barred owls," called the guide from the adjoining tent.
"I thought their racket would wake you boys up. But you will get
used to them."
"Do they howl all night?" asked Tad.
"Yes, usually, and sometimes in the day as well."
"I see our finish so far as sleep is concerned. But I am going to
sleep just the same," growled Chunky.
Late in the night the campers succeeded in getting to sleep. The
fire died down and the mosquitoes at last reached their victims.
Stacy was the first to be awakened by the pests. He slapped and
growled, and growled and slapped; then after a time he got up quietly,
piling the bundle of cane on the fire, and placing heavier wood on
top of that. Then, well satisfied with having done his duty, the fat
boy went back to bed. But Stacy had laid the foundation for a lot of
trouble that would arouse the entire camp ere many more minutes had
passed.
The trouble came with a bang, with a report that sounded as if the
camp had been blown up, accompanied by the yells of the boys as fire
and burning sticks were hurled into the little tents.