MAN-SIGNS IN THE CANEBRAKE
Daylight on the following morning found Bill Lilly and Tad Butler
methodically making preparations for their jaunt, which no doubt
would lead them many miles from the camp on the Sunflower River.
Lilly had not divulged his plans, beyond telling the Professor that
he need feel no alarm, as he merely desired to administer a lesson to
the man in case they found him.
"Of course, there's more than an even chance that we don't catch the
hound. If we do I promise you there won't be any gun-play if it can
be avoided. I don't want to get mixed up with anything of that sort
and lose my liberty for the rest of the fall until the courts meet in
January. No, sir, not for Bill Lilly. You don't have to worry about
the boy, either. He knows how to take care of himself better than
most of us, and he will be a whole lot of help to me, too."
Professor Zepplin had given a reluctant consent to Lilly's proposal
to take Butler, along with him. They packed just enough food in
their saddle bags to carry them through the day, intending to eat
their meals in the saddle.
A hasty breakfast was eaten, then after giving his orders that no one
should venture away from the camp out of hearing, Lilly and Tad
mounted their horses and rode away. The horses started off at the
loping run that was now so familiar to the boys, and sight and sound
of the two men was soon lost to those in the camp. Lilly had said it
was doubtful if they returned before late in the night, and perhaps
not until the following morning.
The guide had gained quite a lead on his young companion at the start,
but this Butler quickly overcame ere they had proceeded far.
"Where do we go first?" asked Tad.
"We will take up the trail at the point where you fought the wolves
yesterday. I wouldn't do this only there is no telling what that
fellow will do, seeing he has done so much already. I thought after
he had stolen the doe and you found him out, that he would be scared
to go any further. I reckon nothing but a dose of lead will scare
him. He'll get that if he doesn't watch out."
"If we sight him I guess it will not be necessary to do any shooting,"
replied Tad.
"You are right about not wanting to. Anybody can pull a trigger, but
it isn't everybody that can keep from pulling a trigger under great
provocation. It's a good thing that I have someone with me who can
keep his head. I confess that I am mad all through. I don't dare to
trust myself. Never in all the years I have been riding the canebrake
have I been so tarnation mad."
"You will get over that after you have slashed through the brake for
ten miles or so," answered Tad laughingly. "I shouldn't work myself
up were I in your place."
Lilly took the advice of the freckle-faced boy and held himself down.
They reached the scene of the battle with the wolves. There was no
indication that any of the beasts had returned, but while Lilly was
taking a survey of the place Tad Butler had gone west a little way to
try to pick up the trail he had discovered on the previous day. The
boy got down from his horse the better to examine the trail.
Suddenly Tad uttered an exclamation. He had made a further
discovery. Securing his horse to a tree, he trotted on a short
distance, then halting, stood thinking. Soon, however, he turned in
response to a hail from the guide.
"Find it, Tad?"
"Yes, sir; will you come here?"
Lilly rode over to where Tad was standing.
"He has been here again."
"He has?" exclaimed the guide.
"Yes, sir."
"How do you know?"
"These are the same hoofprints as the others. The horse had lost a
shoe from the nigh fore foot. This horse also has lost a shoe from
the off fore foot. I don't know which way he came, I haven't looked
for that, but it is immaterial anyway. What is important is that he
has gone in that direction--north, I think it is."
"Right you are. So the moccasin has been back here again, eh?" mused
the guide. "Came back to see how well his little scheme worked?
Well, I hope he is satisfied."
"Have you any idea where he has gone? Has he any place where he
would go to get out of the way?"
"Say, I'll bet he has. I'll bet he is heading for Turtle Bayou,"
cried Lilly.
"How far is that from here?"
"Ten miles in a straight line. It is farther the way he would be
most likely to ride because the roundabout way is the easier way."
"Then had we not better follow his trail?"
"Yes, I reckon we would make better time. Then, if he is coming back,
we might meet him. That is what we will do."
The trail at first they found rather blind, the fellow evidently
having sought to leave as slight evidence of his presence there as
possible, but to Tad the trail was not very difficult to follow, and
Tad was keen in work of this sort. He now concentrated all his
efforts on the trail, Bill Lilly satisfying himself with taking second
place, where he watched the boy with approving glances.
"I will watch the trail and you keep a lookout ahead," suggested Tad,
glancing back for a moment.
"Right, my boy. Mine is the easy job."
"Neither one is very hard," smiled Tad.
For some time neither spoke. At one stage of their journey Tad
dismounted and began examining the ground. After a few moments of
this he nodded and swung into his saddle again.
"Stop here?" asked Lilly.
"Yes, sir. I don't know what he halted for, but he did not stay
long."
"You should have been an Indian, Master Tad."
"I have been told that I am one as it is," was the boy's laughing
reply.
"In instinct you are. By the way, we ought to be getting near the
place we're heading for," announced the guide.
"You tell me when you want to change the plan. We are not making
much or any noise, so we should be able to go pretty close to the
destination. Of course, you know best."
"I don't," answered the guide with emphasis. "I may know the brake
and the game, but as a trailer of man-signs I am not in the same
class with you, young man."
It was about three-quarters of an hour later when they came in sight
of Turtle Bayou, a lonely channel in the heart of the swamp, rising
from the shores of which were ranks of cane that disappeared in the
far distance.
"I suppose they are as thick in there as hairs on a dog?" said Tad,
pointing to the stream.
"'Gators? I should say so. It's alive with them. A man who got in
there never would get out alive. You want to look out for moccasins
about here, too. They aren't disturbed much hereabouts, so there are
a lot of them."
"I don't worry about snakes," answered the freckle-faced boy. "Just
now I am looking for something that looks like a man. But, do you
know, you haven't told me for whom we are looking."
"I reckon you wouldn't know his name if I did, but if we are lucky
enough to meet him, I'll introduce the fellow," answered Lilly with a
grim smile. "Do you see that thatched shack over there?" he asked,
pointing to what appeared to be a heavy growth of bushes back from
the bank on a rise of ground.
"Is that a shack?" asked Tad.
"Yes. It is where our friend puts up when he is in this vicinity. I
have several shacks in different parts of the canebrake, but we
haven't come across any of them yet, though we shall before we leave
the brake."
"In there? Do you think he is at home?"
"We'll find out pretty soon. What would you suggest?"
"I would suggest that we walk right up to the entrance and learn if
anyone is at home. I should advise leaving the horses back here, so
there will be no trail close to his hut."
"Good idea. We'll do it."
They quickly secreted their horses in the brush, and after looking to
their revolvers, the only weapons they carried with them after
dismounting, the man and the boy made their way cautiously towards the
hut, Bill Lilly leading the way, slightly in advance of Tad. There
was no sign of life about the place, so they kept on until they stood
in front of the hut.
"Nobody at home," announced the guide.
"So it seems. Shall I take a look about inside?" asked Tad, stepping
forward.
"Wait! Don't be in a hurry. I reckon I'll have a look myself."
Tad did not understand Lilly's reason for wanting to do this, but he
supposed the guide knew best. Lilly did. He leaped back suddenly,
giving a vicious kick with his heavy boot, then jumping on some object
with both feet.
"Look out! There may be more of them!"
"What is it?" cried Tad.
"A moccasin! The hound. Don't you see what he has done? He's made
a snake-trap here. This bucket standing in the middle of the shack
is sure to be tripped over by anyone who didn't know the trick. That
would mean trouble for the kicker."
"I saw that bucket. I presume I should have at least pushed it to
one side," answered Tad in an awed voice.
"That's the kind of a critter we have trailed down."
"It strikes me we haven't trailed him down. Perhaps he discovered us
and has gotten away."
"I don't know about that. I'll let you take a look outside in a
minute. The dishes are cold, but that doesn't mean much--he may not
have cooked anything."
"The remains of his fire are cold, too," answered Tad. "I felt them
when we came in."
"You are a wise head," nodded the guide. "You go out and see what
you can pick up on the outside, but watch out for yourself," warned
Billy. "There are some things I want to look at in here. Take your
time. Don't get far away, that's all."
Tad stepped out, pausing to look about the place. His purpose was to
learn if the owner of the shack had ridden away or if he were hiding
somewhere in that vicinity. If he had ridden away there must be the
trail of the horse with the bare off fore foot.
The Pony Rider Boy circled about, first looking for the place where
the horse had been tethered. He found it without great difficulty,
for a hoofprint always attracted Tad Butler's attention. Even at
home he found himself studying them in the streets, out on the
highways, wherever horses traveled. As a result he could read much
more than the average good observer from tracks that lay before him.
Tad was able even to form some opinion of the man who was riding the
horse that had left the tracks.
The ground was considerably trampled at the tethering ground, and the
bushes stripped clear of foliage where the horse had been browsing.
It was this latter that had attracted the boy's attention first of
all, telling him that a horse had been tethered there. From that, it
was not a difficult matter to look up the trails. There were several
of these. More time was necessary to determine which of them had
been made last, but after a little study the Pony Rider Boy picked
out the fresh trail.
"He rode out this way, heading southwest, I should call it," muttered
the lad. "I wonder where he was heading for? Still, there is no use
wondering, for he may have turned due east or due west after going
farther into the swamp or the brake. The question is, where is he
now, and is he coming back here today?"
The question was answered in a manner wholly unlooked for by Tad
Butler. For the moment the lad, caught off his guard, was at a loss
what to do. But his quick wit came to his rescue. Tad dropped to
all fours and on hands and feet began running over the ground like a
monkey, his body well screened by the bushes about him.