MAROONED IN A SWAMP
"Hey, Tad!"
"Yes, what is it?" asked Tad Butler, wide awake in an instant in
response to Stacy's quiet call.
"What's that roaring?"
"Rain, you silly."
"Oh, is that all?"
"Yes, what did you think it was?"
"I--I thought it was a tornado," answered the fat boy sleepily.
"Goodness, it is coming down, at that!"
"I should say it is. At this rate we'll all get wet feet."
"We're lucky if we don't get more than our feet wet," returned Chunky.
"I'm sleepy." In the next breath Stacy was snoring.
Tad lay quiet, watching the rain drown out the campfire that was now
steaming and throwing off great clouds of fog. Soon there would be
nothing left of their big campfire but the blackened, ill-smelling
embers. The others evidently had not been awakened by the rain, or,
if they had, they had not aroused themselves to discuss it as had
Stacy and Tad. Little by little Tad dropped off, but it seemed as if
he had no more than closed his eyes when he was awakened by the voice
of Ichabod.
"Hey, Boss, Ah reckon, sah, you'd bettah pull in youah feet, sah.
They's in de wet, sah."
Tad's feet, which had somehow got thrust out under the side of the
tent, were in a puddle of water more than ankle deep. But so warm
was the water and so soundly had he slept that the boy was wholly
unconscious of his condition. Tad found, upon drawing in his feet,
that they were not any too clean either. The black muck of the
forest had smeared them.
"Have you any clean water, Ichabod?" he asked.
"Yes, sah. Ah done kotched a bucket full ob de rain. Dat am clean,
sah."
"Thank you," said Tad, proceeding to scrub his feet. "I am almost as
much of a sleepy-head as Stacy. No, I don't know enough to get the
whole of me in out of the rain. What if a snake had chanced along
and discovered my feet out there?"
Tad could not repress a shiver at the thought. After scrubbing
himself and putting on his stockings and boots the lad, still in his
pajamas, stepped to the door of the tent. In his amazement at
finding his feet outdoors he had neglected to take note of the state
of the weather. The rain was still falling in torrents.
Tad judged from the faint light that day had only just dawned. From
where he sat he could see the fog rising from the swamp. He could
smell it, too, that fresh odor of wet vegetation, always so marked on
the low lands.
Tad rubbed his eyes and looked again. Their camp was pitched on a
very slight rise of ground, and to his amazement the camp now
occupied a small island, all about it a lake of muddy water. The boy
wondered, for the moment, if the Mississippi had overflowed and
drowned out the jungle, but upon second thought he understood that
the heavy rain was responsible for the flood. The ground was so
saturated with moisture that it could hold no more.
From the water rose the knees of the cypress trees, like giant crabs
rearing their bodies to get free of the water--knees twisted and
gnarled, assuming all sorts of fantastic shapes. One could imagine
that they were dragons and centipedes, while one formation looked
like a camel kneeling. From beneath one of these knees the boy saw a
dark spot wriggling through the water. Tad saw that it was a snake,
but what kind he did not know.
Stepping back into his tent, he picked up his rifle, then returning
to the door, scanned the water keenly.
"There he is. I see him." The lad raised his weapon, took careful
aim at the black speck swaying from side to side as the reptile swam
hastily away. Tad pulled the trigger.
The report of his rifle sounded to him like the firing of an
eight-pounder cannon. When the smoke cleared away there was no sign
of the black wriggling head. But on the other hand there was an
uproar in the tents. The Pony Rider Boys, awake on the instant,
leaped out into the open, in most instances splashing into the water
up to their ankles, and as quickly leaping back into their tents,
uttering yells.
Stacy Brown was not so fortunate. When he landed outside his tent he
stepped on a sharp stub and in trying to recover himself, fell face
down in the water with a loud splash. He scrambled up, choking and
sputtering.
"Oh, wow!" howled the fat boy.
Chunky's face was streaked with black muck and his pajamas looked as
if they had been dyed black.
"Oh, wow! Somebody pushed me! You did it on purpose."
"Oh, keep still," rebuked Ned. "Don't you see what has happened?"
"We've moved. Why didn't you wake me up before you moved the camp?
What lake is this?"
"You evidently haven't got your eyes open yet, Chunky," answered Tad
with a laugh. "Don't you see, we are marooned?"
"Why, so we are," cried Ned Rector.
"Surrounded by water?" exclaimed the Professor.
"Yes, that's the definition of an island," nodded Ned. "Entirely
surrounded by water."
"But--but, who shot? I heard a gun go off," insisted Walter.
"I did," answered Tad.
"What were you shooting at?" questioned the guide, who, having pulled
on his boots, had splashed out in front of the camp.
"I was trying my skill on something floating in the water over
yonder."
"Funny time of day to be shooting at things," grumbled Ned.
"Did you hit the mark?" asked the guide, surmising that Tad had shot
at a snake.
Butler nodded, and went back to put his rifle where it would keep dry.
"What are we going to do for firewood?" asked the Professor
apprehensively.
"I have some dry wood in my tent," answered the guide.
"Oh, you have? So have I," grinned Tad, whereat Lilly tugged some
more at his tawny moustache.
"They have got to wake up in the morning to get ahead of you, haven't
they?" he nodded.
"I don't know. I am not so sure of that. If you had seen me when
Ichabod awakened me, you wouldn't think so," replied Tad with a
sheepish grin.
"What was it?" asked Ned.
"My feet were outdoors in the water, while the rest of me was inside."
"Ho, ho," jeered Chunky, poking his streaked face from his tent
opening for an instant. "Lucky none of those savage pigs was about
at that time or you might have lost half a pound or so of toes."
Chunky dodged back to avoid being hit by a handful of black muck that
Ned shied at him, and which spattered over the front of the tent.
"You will have to clean that off," rebuked Tad.
"We will make Chunky do that. He was to blame for it," declared Ned.
"You will have a fine time making him clean the mud from the tent.
By the way, what has become of my pig?" questioned Tad.
Lilly swung a hand in the direction of the bayou, a narrow channel
now unrecognizable because of the water that covered the ground on
either shore. Tad nodded his understanding of the gesture. Some of
the reptiles there had made away with the dead pig.
"I was going to have that wild pig for my own breakfast," said the
boy reflectively.
"You must have good teeth," smiled Lilly. "Those wild ones are tough
as boot leather. We will have some bear meat one of these days."
"That's nothing," answered Ned. "We have had lots of that on our
trips."
"How about venison?"
"That always is a luxury," smiled Tad. "Are there deer here?"
"Yes, but you will find shooting them in the brake is not the same as
letting go at them in comparatively open woods. Here, it is a case
of shoot quickly or miss your game."
"We can shoot quickly, but the next question is, can we hit?" laughed
Tad.
"That's the mighty question," agreed Lilly. "If you boys can shoot
as well as you ride and do other things, I reckon there isn't a deer
in the brake that could get away from you."
"I guess I will practise on those horrible owls," said Ned.
"By the way, are they all drowned out?" asked Tad.
"Oh, no. They are here. If you want to see one, look up in that
cypress yonder," answered the guide, pointing. "You will see what
birds of prey they are. They are the worst in the woods, and the
noisiest," added Lilly.
Tad and Ned looked. High up on a swaying limb was perched one of the
long-beaked barred owls. The bird was having a desperate battle with
something. At first the youngsters were at a loss to understand what
that something was.
"It is a snake!" cried Tad.
"That's what it is. You have guessed right," nodded Lilly.
The boys watched with fascinated gaze this battle high in the air.
"What kind of snake is it?" questioned Ned in an awed tone.
"I reckon I don't know. Ichabod, what is that snake the owl has up
there?"
"Ah doan' know, sah. Ah reckon it am jest snake."
"That is as near as a nigger can get to a direct answer," snorted
Lilly.
"He doesn't know. That was what he was trying to tell us," said Tad.
Preparations for breakfast were well along by this time, though it
was with difficulty that they had kept the fire up sufficiently to do
the cooking. The rain was still beating down in torrents and a heavy
mist hung over the jungle, a mist that would not be dispelled until
the sun had come out and licked up the surplus water in the great
swamp.
To the left and rear of the camp, though they could hardly make out
the shore lines now, lay a small lake. Tensas it was called. The
waters were always foul and muddy, and alive underneath the surface,
though the boys could only surmise this. They had observed no signs
of life on the surface, but then they had had little opportunity to
observe much of anything except the rain.
On beyond the camp they were now able to make out faintly the straight
stems of the canebrake that stood row upon row in straight lines, as
if they had been arranged by human hands on the lines run out by
engineers.
Afterward the lads sat down to breakfast, which, of course, was eaten
inside the tents. The boys now wanted to know what was to be done
about their situation.
"Nothing at present," answered Mr. Lilly. "The water will not rise
much more. You see it is running off in a pretty swift current
already. Of course the water wouldn't interfere much, but the going
would be sloppy. You wouldn't enjoy it."
"Is there water in the canebrake?" asked Tad.
"Oh, no. The cane is on higher ground, as I have already told you.
There is one thing to be thankful for--the rain drives away the
mosquitoes," smiled Lilly.
"Yes, but I dread to think what they will do when the rain stops and
the sun comes out," answered Tad.
Everyone was wet. The rain had found its way through the little
tents, and a constant drip, drip, drip was heard above the roaring of
the deluge on the roofs. The interiors of the tents were steaming;
the heat was greater than before the rain. The tents smelled stuffy,
but the boys were good-natured. No one except Stacy uttered
complaint. Being used to Stacy's growls, they gave no heed to him.
Later in the day the boys wrapped themselves in their rubber blankets
and went to sleep.
For three full days did this state of affairs exist. Then the skies
cleared as suddenly as they had become overcast. A burning sun
blazed down, and the heavy mists rose in clouds. One felt that
Nature was pluming herself after her long bath. Black squirrels
chattered in the tops of the tall cypress, thrushes broke out into an
incessant clucking, mockingbirds and finches burst into song, above
which was heard the twitterings of thousands of sparrows.
One could not believe that he was in a forest so full of perils, with
these sweet songs in his ears, the fresh odors of luxuriant
vegetation in his nostrils. It did not seem possible that the cane
just ahead of them was the haunt of savage beasts, that the little
lakes and bayous were alive with alligators, savage garfish and
monstrous snapping turtles, heavy as a man; that thick-bodied
moccasin snakes, foul and dangerous, lurked near the shores, while
further back in the forests lay copperheads and rattlers in great
numbers.
This was the country into which the Pony Rider Boys had come in
search of new experiences and thrills, and they were destined to have
their full share of these ere they had finished their journey and
reached the outer world again.