SWALLOWED UP BY THE BOG
The cougar quickly reached the screen of branches that Bobby had
arranged, and here he hesitated, not understanding the nature of this
obstacle. The tawny head was within two feet of the boys, and they found
themselves looking fairly into the wicked green eyes that glared at them
through the frail network of branches.
But the panther had little chance to solve the puzzle before him, for
with one accord the boys, wielding their clubs with a strength born of
desperation, rained blows upon his head. The cougar growled and spit
furiously, and struck viciously at them with wicked claws extended. But
he was at a disadvantage, for he could only use one paw, being forced to
cling to the tree with the others. For a few minutes he battled
furiously, and it seemed as though he would force his way past the
barrage of blows descending on him. One sweep of his paw caught Fred’s
club and tore it out of his grasp, and it was only by a tremendous
effort that Fred kept himself from following it to the ground. Then
Bobby, risking all on one blow, let go his hold on the branch, where he
had been steadying himself, stood up to his full height, and, grasping
his club in both hands, brought it down with tremendous force squarely
between the cougar’s eyes. Stunned and bleeding, the animal had received
all the punishment it could stand for the present, and, still spitting
furiously, it backed down the tree and leaped to the ground.
The boys were panting and well-nigh exhausted, but they still had
strength left for a cheer as they gazed down at their discomfited enemy.
“That was hot work while it lasted,” panted Fred. “If it hadn’t been for
that scheme of yours, Bobby, it would probably have been a different
story.”
“It did help some,” admitted Bobby. “But we’re not through with that
brute yet. You can see he’s working himself up to come after us again.”
“I’ve got to get another club,” said Fred, as he started hacking at a
stout branch with his knife. “I don’t know how I ever kept from falling
when he knocked that stick out of my hand.”
“It was lucky he connected with the club instead of with your hand,”
remarked Lee. “You’d better get that branch cut as quickly as you can.
That beast will be up here again inside of five minutes.”
“All right, I’m ready for him,” said Fred, as he cut through the last
tough fibre and found himself provided with a serviceable club. “We can
give him the same dose he got before.”
The cougar was still full of fight, and Fred had hardly regained his
position when the fierce brute came swarming up the tree again. But this
time he did not stop at the screen of branches, most of which had been
torn off in the previous struggle, and in spite of a staggering
fusillade of blows he managed to reach the crotch in which the boys were
standing.
“Out onto the branches, fellows!” yelled Lee. “It’s our only chance!”
Before the panther could get his balance and reach one of them, the boys
had scrambled out on three separate branches, leaving the cougar in
undisputed possession of their former vantage ground.
It was a breathless moment for all three, as they waited to see which
one the animal would attack first. The cougar himself seemed undecided
at first, glaring from one to the other, spitting and growling,
viciously. Then, perhaps because he had happened to choose the largest
branch, the ferocious beast started creeping toward Lee, his wicked
yellow eyes staring fixedly at his victim.
“Help me out, fellows, or I’m a goner!” cried the Southern lad
despairingly.
His friends had no intention of leaving him to his fate. Some three feet
above Lee’s branch were two others, almost parallel to it. Bobby and
Fred, both moved by the same thought, selected each a branch and crawled
cautiously out in the wake of the advancing cougar.
The latter was proceeding cautiously, for the branch bent and swayed
with his weight, and anyway, his prey seemed so securely within his
reach that he saw no cause for hurry. He was so intent on Lee that he
either did not notice the swaying of the branches over his head or else
thought it not worth noticing. Lee kept edging further and further out
on the branch, until at last the cougar, feeling it bend perilously
beneath him, paused a moment in his deadly progress. This was Bobby’s
and Fred’s opportunity, and they were not slow in taking advantage of
it. They poised their clubs a second, and then, at the same time,
brought them down full force on the wicked yellow head beneath them.
No panther that ever lived could withstand that crushing impact, and the
cougar went limp, lost his hold on the branch, and went crashing to the
ground, twenty feet below, where he lay twitching convulsively.
“Now’s our chance to make an end of this customer for once and all!”
yelled Bobby. “Come on down, fellows, and we’ll finish him this time.”
Lee hastily scrambled back from the end of the branch, and all three
boys slid down the trunk of the tree to where the cougar lay, still
stunned from the terrific blow and from its fall.
“Quick,” said Bobby, “grab hold of him, and we’ll throw him into that
big bog-hole we passed when we left the main path.”
“Right!” exclaimed Fred. “But we’ll have to act mighty quick. He’s apt
to come to life any second.”
It was all the boys could do to lift the big brute, but, with the
strength of desperation, they managed it somehow, and half carried, half
dragged, the unconscious panther to the slimy green pit that they had
almost tumbled into themselves while making for the tree. The pit was
surrounded by an expanse of treacherous quicksand, and into this they
shoved the cougar. The greedy quicksand received its victim with
avidity, drawing the cougar down and down into its slimy depths, until
with a dull sucking sound it closed over the bloodthirsty brute’s head.
The boys watched, fascinated, and almost found it in their hearts to
pity their late enemy. He was gone as completely as though he had never
existed, and the treacherous sand stretched out smooth and unbroken, not
a quiver on its surface to tell that it had added one more victim to its
already long list.
“Gee,” exclaimed Bobby with a shudder, “that’s a terrible way to die,
although that brute deserved all that was coming to him.”
“Well, it’s pretty certain that he won’t bother us any more,” remarked
Fred. “And I think we’re mighty lucky to be alive.”
“I’ll say so!” exclaimed Lee, fervently. “I gave myself up for lost when
I found myself out on that limb with the panther not ten feet away from
me. That was an awful wallop you fellows gave him.”
“A wallop in time saves nine,” misquoted Fred, with a grin.
“It probably saved the nine that the cougar was figuring on giving me,”
said Lee.
“Looks to me as though that wallop lost nine,” said Bobby, slyly.
“How do you make that out?” inquired Fred.
“Why, it lost that big cat’s nine lives, didn’t it?” inquired Bobby,
innocently.
“It certainly did,” admitted Lee, laughing, “and you can bet I was in a
position to appreciate it, too. The business end of that panther was
getting entirely too close to me for comfort.”
“Well,” said Fred, “it must be Bobby’s turn next to get in a tight
place. First I nearly get eaten up by an alligator, and then Lee pretty
near furnishes a hearty meal for a hungry cougar. What variety of
animals do you prefer, Bobby?”
“Oh, I’m not jealous of all the attention you fellows get,” returned
Bobby. “You can have your little pets and welcome.”
“How generous he is, Lee, isn’t he?” said Fred, sarcastically. “But
don’t forget the old saying, Bobby, that ‘he who laughs last,
irritates.’”
“That must be a mighty old saying, all right—so old that everybody’s
forgotten it but you,” said Bobby.
“That just goes to show what a fine memory I have,” retorted Fred.
“Whenever you can’t remember an old proverb, you try to make out that
there never was such a one. Your memory is nothing but a hole with no
bottom in it.”
“All right, pick on my memory all you want to,” grinned Bobby, “but
remember ‘it’s a long worm that has no turning.’”
“You fellows had better cut out all those fake proverbs and get down to
business,” warned Lee. “We’re just as far as ever from getting out of
this swamp, and we don’t even know where we’re going to get our next
meal. Why don’t you exercise your minds on this problem: when do we eat,
and if so, how?”
“You certainly start off with a terribly hard one,” said Fred. “Can’t
you think of anything easier than that, Lee?”
“I’m getting so hungry that I can’t think of anything else. It’s hours
since the last of those alligator eggs disappeared,” complained Lee.
“Then you shouldn’t have thrown the cougar into the quicksand,” retorted
Fred, “he might have made tough eating, but it would have been a lot
better than nothing.”
“I thought of that,” admitted Lee. “But I was more anxious to keep him
from eating me. Besides,” he added, “you and Bobby never thought of
anything but getting rid of him at that time either.”
“No use crying over spilt milk,” said Bobby, philosophically. “We’ll
have to move and trust to luck for something to eat.”
As neither of the others had anything better to suggest, they plodded
back to the path they had been following when they were so rudely
interrupted by the cougar. The haze had lightened considerably, and the
sun shone through with the appearance of a big red ball, enabling the
boys to pick their way for a short time, but then the haze settled down
thicker than ever, and they found themselves entirely at a loss. Their
only consolation was that the ground appeared to be getting steadily
higher and firmer, and they felt that they had left the worst of the bog
behind them. But the faint path they had been following grew less and
less distinct, and before they fairly realized it they were hopelessly
lost. For a time they stumbled on through a maze of vines and creepers
that grew steadily thicker, until at last they became practically
impassable. Then the boys were forced to call a halt, and they gazed at
each other questioningly.