THE OASIS IN THE SWAMP
"Was that another fish-eating bird like a crane, Paul?" asked Seth.
"Sounded more like a human voice," Jotham put in.
"And that's what it was, or else we're all pretty much mistaken," was
the verdict of the scoutmaster.
They turned their eyes toward the quarter from whence the sound had
appeared to come; and while some thought it had welled up just in a line
with this bunch of bushes, or it might be a leaning tree, still others
believed it had come straight up against the breeze.
Although there might be a few points difference in their guesses, still
it was noticeable that on the whole they were pretty uniform, and
pointed almost due east from the spot where they stood.
"How about the prospect of getting through there?" queried Jotham,
anxiously.
"Huh! couldn't be tougher, in my opinion," grumbled Seth.
"But if you look far enough, boys," remarked Paul, "you can see that
there seems to be some firmer ground over there."
"Well, now, you're right about that, Paul," interjected Fritz, "I was
just going to say the same myself. Made me think of what an oasis in a
desert might look like, though to be sure I never saw one in my life."
"Solid ground, you mean, eh?" said Babe Adams, gleefully, "maybe, now,
we won't be just tickled to death to feel the same under our trilbies
again. This thing of picking your way along a slippery ledge about three
inches wide, makes me feel like I'm walking on eggs all the while. Once
you lose your grip, and souse you go up to your knees, or p'raps your
neck, in the nasty dip. Solid ground will feel mighty welcome to me."
"Do we make a bee line for that quarter, Paul?" asked Andy.
"I'd like to see you try it, that's what," jeered Seth. "In three shakes
of a lamb's tail you'd be swimming in the mud. Guess we have to follow
one of these crazy little hummocks that run criss-cross through the
place, eh, Frank?"
"Yes, you're right about that, Seth; but I'm glad to say I think one
runs over toward that spot; anyway, here goes to find out."
The young scoutmaster made a start while speaking, and the balance of
the boys lined out after him.
"Keep close together, so as to help each other if any trouble comes,"
was what Paul called out over his shoulder.
"Yes, and for goodness sake don't all get in at once, or we'll be
drowned. Think what an awful time there'd be in old Beverly, if six of
her shining lights went and got snuffed out all at once. Hey, quit your
pushin' there, Jotham, you nearly had me overboard that time."
"Well, I just _had_ to grab something, because one of my legs was in up
to the knee. Oh! dear, what a fine time we'll have getting all this mud
off us," Jotham complained, from just behind.
But they were making pretty fair progress, all the same; and whenever
any of the boys could venture to take their eyes off the faintly marked
path they were following, long enough to send a quick look ahead, they
saw that the anticipated haven of temporary refuge loomed up closer all
the time.
At least this was encouraging, and it served to put fresh zeal in those
who had begun to almost despair of ever getting across the acre of mud
that lay between the spot where they had last shouted, and the Promised
Land.
They were a cheery lot, taken as a whole; and what was even better, they
believed in passing their enthusiasm along. So one, and then another,
called out some encouraging words as the humor seized them.
Foot by foot, and yard by yard they moved along, Paul always cautious
about venturing upon unknown ground; but finding a way to gain his end.
"Here's a little patch of solid ground, and we can rest up for a minute
or so," was the welcome announcement that came along the line of toiling
scouts, and of course brought out various exclamations of delight.
It was indeed a great relief to be able to actually stand upright once
more, so as to stretch the cramped muscles in their legs. Some of the
boys even started to dancing, though Seth scorned to do anything like
this, and pretended to make all manner of fun of their contortions.
"Talk about them cranes doing funny stunts when they get together and
dance," he remarked, "I guess, now, they haven't got anything on you
fellers. Why, if anybody happened to see you carryin' on that way he'd
sure believe the whole bunch had broke loose from some lunatic asylum.
When I dance I like to have some style about it, and not just hop around
any old way."
So Seth took it out in stretching his arms, and rubbing the tired
muscles of his legs.
It was Jotham who made a discovery. In jumping around he had by chance
wandered a dozen yards away from the rest, when he was heard to give
vent to a cry; and the other boys saw him dart forward, as if to pick
something up from the ground.
"What is it, Jotham?" several cried in an eager chorus; for their nerves
had been wrought up to a high tension by all they had gone through, and
they felt, as Seth aptly expressed it, "like fiddle strings keyed to
next door to the snapping point."
For answer Jotham turned and came toward the rest. He was carrying some
object in his hand, and seemed to regard it with considerable interest,
as though he felt that he had made an important discovery.
As he reached the others he held it up before the scoutmaster; and of
course all could see what it was.
"A piece of old yellow cloth!" exclaimed Seth, in disgust, "say, you
made all of us believe that you'd run across something worth while."
"How about it, Paul?" appealed Jotham, turning to the one whom he
fancied would be more apt to understand, "don't this tell a story; and
ain't it a pretty good clue to run across?"
"I should say, yes," replied Paul, as he took the article in question in
his own hands, and felt of it eagerly, "because, you see, Seth, this is
really silk, the queer kind they always make balloons out of. And that
ought to tell us we're on the right track. So you see it was an
important pick-up, and ought to count one point for Jotham."
"Gee whittaker! you don't say?" ejaculated Seth, staring with
considerable more respect at the foot of dingy yellow stuff which the
scoutmaster was holding in his hands. "Well, if that's so, then I pass
along the honors to Jotham. But if a piece of the bally old balloon fell
right here, Paul, don't that tell us the wreck must a passed over where
we're standing now?"
"Not the least doubt about that," asserted the confident Paul, "and I
was just looking up to see if I could make out the course it took.
Because it must have struck the top of a tree, to tear this piece
loose."
"How about that one over yonder?" suggested Fritz, pointing as he spoke.
"Looks to me like the top was broke some, and I just bet you now that's
where the big gas-bag did strike first, when it started to drop in a
hurry."
"Then following the course of the wind, which hasn't changed this last
hour, it would be carried on straight east," Paul continued, logically.
"Sure thing," declared Seth, "and if you look close now, you'll glimpse
where it struck that smaller bunch of trees just ahead, where we're
going to land soon. And Paul, hadn't we better be trying our luck some
more now? Guess all the boys must be rested, and if we've just _got_ to
do the grand wading act, the sooner we get started the better."
"First let's call out again, and see if we get any answer. It would
cheer the poor fellow up some, if he happens to be lying there badly
hurt; and if he does answer, we'll get our bearings better. Hit it up,
Fritz!"
They always turned to Fritz when they wanted volume of sound. That
appeared to be his specialty, the one thing in which he certainly
excelled.
Of course there was little need of any great noise, now that they had
reason to believe the object of their solicitude must be close at hand;
but then boys generally have plenty of spare enthusiasm, and when Fritz
gave the required signal they let out a roar, as usual.
"There, that was certainly an answering call!" declared Jotham, proudly.
"Sounded like he said just two words--'help--hurry!'" spoke up Babe.
Somehow the rest seemed to be of about the same opinion, and the thought
gave the scouts a strange thrill. Was the unfortunate aeronaut slowly
bleeding to death, lying there amidst the bushes on that tongue of land?
They had given up their dearly cherished plan in order to rescue him,
and had undergone considerable in the line of strenuous work, so as to
arrive in time, and now that they were so close to the scene of his
disaster it would be too bad if they were held back until it was too
late to do him any good.
"Can't we hit it up a little faster, Paul?" begged Andy, who was rather
inclined to be impulsive, because of the warm Southern blood that flowed
in his veins.
They had once more started on, and were really making pretty good
progress; but when one gives way to impatience, it may seem that a fair
amount of speed is next door to standing still.
Paul understood the generous impulse that caused the Kentucky boy to
speak in this strain and while he knew that it was dangerous to attempt
any swifter pace than they were then making, still, for once, he bowed
to the will of the majority, and began to increase his speed.
All went well, for beyond a few minor mishaps they managed to get along.
What if one of the scouts did occasionally slip off the wretched
footing, and splash into the mud; a helping hand was always ready to do
the needful, and the delay could hardly be noticed.
"There's the beginning of the firm ground just ahead!" Paul presently
remarked, thinking to cheer his comrades with the good news.
"Oh! joy!" breathed Jotham, who often used queer expressions, that is,
rather odd to hear from a boy.
Seth was the more natural one of the two when he gave vent to his
delight by using the one expressive word:
"Bully!"
In a couple of minutes at this rate they would have reached the place
where the slippery trail merged into the more solid ground.
Perhaps some of the others may not as yet have noticed strange sounds
welling up out of the bushes beyond, but Paul certainly did, and he was
greatly puzzled to account for the same.
That singular growling could not be the wind passing through the upper
branches of the trees, for one thing. It seemed to Paul more like the
snarling of an angry domestic cat, several times magnified.
For the life of him he could not imagine what a cat would be doing here
in the heart of the dreaded Black Water Swamps. Surely no hermit could
be living in such a dismal and inaccessible place; even a crazy man
would never dream of passing over such a terribly slippery ledge in
order to get to and from his lonely habitation.
But if not a cat, what was making that angry snarling?
Paul knew next to nothing about balloons, but he felt pretty sure that
even the escaping of gas could hardly produce such a sound--it might
pass through a rent in the silk with a sharp hiss, but he could plainly
catch something more than that.
And then his foot struck solid ground; with a sigh of relief he drew
himself up, and turned to give a hand to Seth, next in line, if it was
needed.
So they all came ashore, so to speak, and delighted to feel able to
stand in a comfortable position once more.
No time now for stretching or dancing, with that ugly snarling growing
constantly deeper, and more angry in volume. Forward was the word, and
Paul somehow felt glad that they gripped those handy staves, tried and
true, with which every scout in course of time becomes quite adept. They
would come in good play should there be any necessity for prompt action.
"Follow me, everybody," said Paul, as he started off.
"Count on us to back you up!" Seth declared, from which remark the
scoutmaster understood that by now the others must have caught those
suspicious sounds, and were trying to figure out what they stood for.
It seemed as if with every forward step he took, Paul could catch them
more and more plainly. Nor was the snarling sound alone; now he believed
he caught a rustling of dead leaves, and something that might be likened
to low muttered words, as though the speaker were being hard pressed,
and had little breath to spare.
Then, as he pushed through the last fringe of bushes that interfered
with his view, Paul found himself looking upon the cause of all these
queer noises.