With the revolver in his possession Payne started the day's march at
Higgins' side. Soon his caution was justified. At an island Higgins
stopped and stared drunkenly at the salt water gleaming among the
mangrove roots.
"Steady, Hig," warned Payne.
"What?"
"It's salt, you know."
"Oh, yes. 'At's so."
They crept on.
"Don't care if it is salt; I'm going to have some water," said Higgins
suddenly. "Look at those damn buzzards back there. They know it's
salt. Gimme Old Betsy, Payne, and I'll knock one of 'em down, and then
we'll----"
"Higgins!"
"What?" Higgins shook his head. "What have I been saying?"
"Nothing. Come on."
"I guess it's got me, Payne," said the engineer as they rested at noon.
"The fever is in my head too. I'm seeing ice and snow and things like
that."
"Come on; keep moving."
Payne could barely talk, but he drove himself and his companion
relentlessly. He no longer troubled to look ahead in hope of beholding
a change in the land. The weary futile task of placing one mat before
the other occupied him entirely. And suddenly he found himself pushing
head foremost into a hedgelike thicket of brush and stopped weakly.
"One of those damn islands," mumbled Higgins. "Got to go round it."
"To the right; come one," whispered Payne. He did not trouble to look
up.
"Awful big island."
"Yes."
"_Awful_ big."
Payne halted. He looked up. He rubbed his eyes.
"Hig," he whispered, "look at it."
Drunkenly Higgins put out his hands toward the sharp-pointed leaves.
"I'm gone, Payne. I see palmetto scrub."
"Hig--it--isn't an--island!"
Higgins sat down on a mat and covered his face with his hands.
"I thought I could stick with you, Payne, but I'm no good," he panted.
"Head's gone all to pieces. I hear a creek clucking away, and all----"
"Do you hear it too?"
"What! You gone, too, Payne?"
"In there?" cried Payne, pointing into the scrub. "Do you hear water
running? My God! Hig, there's solid land, there's----" He hurled
himself into the midst of the swordlike points of the scrub. Higgins,
made suddenly sane by his companion's apparent madness, stumbled after,
pleading, cajoling. Neither realized what happened during the next
seconds. Their first realization of the truth came as they grappled at
the brink of a rivulet, Payne striving to drink, Higgins pleading with
him to remember it was salt. The struggle sobered them. Higgins let
go.
"Do you see it, too, Payne? Do you see a creek?"
Payne's reply was to scoop up a handful of water and carry it to his
lips.
"Yes, I see a creek," he replied. Higgins followed his example. He
splashed his head in the clear, cool water, running clean and fresh
through a limestone channel from its source in the Everglades. Payne
did likewise. Then each drank a sparing sip of the precious stuff and
sat down to sip carefully and at intervals until the torture of thirst
had left them.
"The buzzards?" cried Payne, looking in vain for the grisly watchers.
Higgins grinned.
"They're awful wise birds, those fellows. They've turned back."
They remained by the creek until they were rested, forded it and went
on.
The ground now was hard and dry. They found themselves in a sparse
pine forest where walking was easy. By nightfall they were out on an
open prairie, and at midnight they came to the trading post at Legrue.
The trader blinked as he responded to their knocks. In response to
Payne's request for information as to the nearest telegraph office he
stared stupidly.
"Where in the name of alligators you been wadin', boys?"
"Devil's Playground."
The trader winked.
"All right, boys, I ain't askin' no questions. If you say Devil's
Playground, all right." He winked again. "I ain't no snooper. Come
in."
"How far to the nearest telegraph office?" repeated Payne.
"Why, that's twenty miles, up to Citrus Grove, where the railroad ends.
You can make it easy to-morrow."
"Good walking?"
"Just like this all the way."
"Higgins, you stay here and rest."