XV

July led the boys about fifty feet from the shore along the open

boat-road, then turned to the right into the thick growth and skirted

the island for several hundred yards before landing again. This was no

trifling undertaking. The water in many places rose over their knees,

and was thick with drift and moss; the bottom was often boggy, and the

dense swamp growth forced them to a tortuous route. Moreover, little

light descended from the moon among those crowding trees.

"Ten--ten--double ten!" they faintly heard Billy still shouting as they

landed, glad to know that as yet their absence had not caused alarm.

Flight across the "prairie" had been voted down because they could take

only two boats and rapid pursuit would be inevitable. The trail leading

out from Honey Island attracted them, but the boat trip thither was

difficult and impossible to follow by night. So they had chosen the

jungle trail leading from the lower end of Deserters' Island which the

boys had located on the day they killed the wild-cat. The boats had been

hidden and they had waded some distance in order to convey a wrong

impression as to their real design and delay pursuit.

Halting to listen a few minutes after they landed, they distinctly heard

the names of Ted and July called, and knew that at last they were

missed. After a few minutes, as they hurried on their way, another shout

reached them; and after a brief silence several sharp short yelps from

the dogs were heard.

July leaped forward at the sound, urging the boys to haste. The darkness

was bewildering until they emerged from the "hammock" and gained the

more open pine woods forming the backbone of the island. Here the

moonlight filtered through the scattering tops of the tall pines and

they could distinguish prominent objects fifty feet away. Even here,

however, rapid headway was difficult owing to the blackjack thickets and

crowding clumps of the fan-palmetto preventing a straight course. There

was a faint trail leading for some three miles toward the lower end of

the island, but there was no time to search for it, and they pushed

ahead in the general direction as best they could.

An hour later, descending at last into the dense "hammock" growth

joining the swamp and the island's lower end, they halted to listen. All

was deathly still, at least in the direction of the slackers' camp; but

the quiet of the dark slumbering swamp in their front was suddenly

broken by the dismal hoot of an owl.

Ted urged that they search for the jungle trail he and Hubert had

located and, having found it, push far into the swamp before break of

day; but July's courage now failed him and he objected. He said it was

dangerous to push into the swamp at night, as indeed it was; that they

might sink into a bog over their heads, might walk blindly into a nest

of moccasins, or might be set upon by a panther.

"The great trouble is that you are both right," said Hubert.

"Dem mens won't start down dis-a way till daylight," said July. "Dey

won't find out we ain't in de boats till mawnin' an' we kin git a big

start on 'em on de swamp trail. Less stay up dere in dem open pines

till daybreak."

They paused a few moments, undecided. Suddenly from the dark depths of

the swamp in their front a strange cry was borne to their ears, an

indescribable cry that made their flesh creep.

"What's that?" whispered Hubert.

"Mus' be a pant'er," was July's whispered response.

The cry was heard again, more mysterious and startling than before. Then

July bolted up the slope and was followed by the boys into the more open

pine woods where the moonlight outlined all objects within their near

view. July wanted to build a fire, but Ted would not consent to such

imprudence, and finally it was agreed that they sit down with their

backs to a large pine and watch until daylight.

All was now quiet and gradually they recovered from their fright. It was

balmy spring weather, but they felt the chill of the night air. With a

view to their greater comfort, July rose and tore down a couple of

armfuls of Spanish moss that thickly wreathed a near-by blackjack

thicket. When their legs were covered with this they were warm enough,

but now found it increasingly difficult to sit upright and alert. Soon

drowsiness overcame July, his head dropped on his breast and he began to

snore. Ted roused him several times only to see him relapse into

insensibility a few moments later.

Soon Hubert also was asleep, and, after watching for perhaps an hour

longer, Ted himself succumbed. Later, as he struggled to rouse himself

and opened his eyes, he saw that the moon was low and concluded that all

was well. As he drifted back toward dreamland he thought he heard a yelp

or two from distant dogs, but was too benumbed by drowsiness to give

heed. Possibly the dogs of the far camp had started on the trail of some

animal, but what could this matter to the three sleepers under the pine?

This half-thought itself was soon gone and the boy lay still,

undisturbed by even a dream.

When Ted awoke it was daylight, and the dogs were leaping about him and

barking. Several men were at hand, too; and the one nearest, who looked

down at the sleepers with a triumphant grin, was Sweet Jackson.

They were caught! And what else could they have expected? The events of

the night leaped forth from the boy's memory to shame him. If only they

had not been such cowards and sleepyheads!

"Don't hurt them boys! You can't blame 'em for tryin' to get away,"

called Mitch' Jenkins sharply, as Sweet Jackson began kicking July to

wake him.

Ted hurriedly wakened Hubert and they both rose to their feet, turning

away their indignant eyes from the severe kicking and cuffing bestowed

upon July before he was allowed to rise.

"Thought you'd give us the slip along with them boys, did you?" shouted

Sweet. "_I'll_ teach you to give notice before you quit yer job."

"He's got a right to go home and so have we," cried Ted indignantly.

"And some day you'll pay for this!"

"Shut up," cried Jackson, turning upon Ted--"if you want me to keep my

hands off of you!"

"You let that boy alone," said Mitch' Jenkins, a distinct menace in his

tone, and the bully subsided.

Then, being ordered to march and to "be quick about it," the prisoners

started toward camp, Ted silent and thoughtful, Hubert crying softly,

and July with a face of gloom. Their captors followed, laughing and

jesting as they came.

When the camp was reached July proceeded to cook breakfast, as ordered,

and the boys stood and watched as the slackers set about building a

"prison"--a sort of pen of heavy saplings--in which they announced that

the negro would hereafter be locked up at night. What disturbed all of

the captives perhaps even more than this was the order given to July,

with threats of punishment, to "keep away from them boys" in the day

time.

The building of the prison-pen occupied the slackers until near noon,

and, while they were waiting about camp for their dinner, Mitch' Jenkins

proposed that they "knock off" work that afternoon and "have a little

fun out of a gander-pulling." Jenkins had brought a live gander on his

march into the swamp because, as he explained when he reached the camp,

he had failed to lay hands on a couple of fat chickens.

"But we ain't got no horses nor no race track," objected Zack James.

"Oh, we'll just swing him up and run round and grab him on foot. It's

been done that way. Anything for a little fun."

This proposal having been adopted, preparations for the sport were begun

immediately after dinner. From the stout limbs of two neighboring trees

branching out some six or eight feet apart a rope was loosely swung, and

to this the gander's feet were securely tied, so that the fowl's neck

hung within easy reach of a man of average height. Before the squawking

bird was hung up its neck was thoroughly greased, both operations being

strenuously objected to and jealously watched by Billy, who had already

adopted the gander as one of his pets.

All hands having gathered at the spot, Jenkins, the leading spirit of

the festivity, passed round a hat and took up a collection of coins as a

prize for the as yet unknown victor. The two boys, Billy and July formed

the party of spectators, all the slackers, now only six in number,

proposing to enter the contest. Lots having been drawn in order to

determine who should have the first trial, the second, the third, and so

on, Mitch' Jenkins announced the opening of the sport.

"Everything is lovely and the goose hangs high," he shouted.

"Gentlemen--let 'er go!"

Thereupon Sweet Jackson, who had drawn the first lot, took position

about fifty feet away and at a given signal started forward at a rapid

run. As he neared the swinging gander, his right hand was thrust upward,

and he endeavored to seize the fowl by its neck. But in this he failed,

the gander cunningly twisting its head out of reach.

A loud guffaw went up from the on-looking slackers as this signal

failure was witnessed. Jim Carter then ran forward and grasped at the

neck of the swinging fowl with no better success. The turn of Zack James

followed. He succeeded in seizing the gander's neck, and, but for the

treacherous grease, its head would have accompanied him in his onward

rush. Released, the unhappy bird swung back and forth, hissing and

squawking in an extremely ludicrous yet pathetic manner, exciting the

laughter of the slackers, the pity of the boys and the angry protest of

Billy.

"Quit it! Quit it, I tell you! You-all let my gander alone!" cried the

witless young man again and again as the contest continued.

Once he ran forward and tried to take the fowl down, but retired,

whimpering, on receiving a resounding box on the ear from Jackson.

After all hands had made several trials and the gander's greasy neck had

received a number of rude wrenches, the poor fowl held its head less

high, ceased to hiss, and squawked more plaintively than ever. The game

was easier now, and almost every contestant succeeded in grasping the

neck as he ran past, but always failed to retain his hold.

At last, after the contest had continued for more than an hour and a

half, and the object of the cruel sport had almost ceased to make any

outcry whatever, Zack James leaped upward as he ran by and grasped the

neck of the fowl near its breast. As his body was carried onward by the

force of its momentum, his tightly gripped hand slipped rapidly along

the gander's neck, but paused at its head. For one moment the man's body

swung from the ground, his whole weight supported by the neck of the

still living fowl. It was then that he gave his hand a vigorous twist.

The next moment he pitched forward on his feet, carrying the gander's

head in his grasp.

At this moment Ted seized the opportunity offered by the universal

preoccupation of the slackers to speak earnestly to Hubert. In spite of

their disapproval of such cruel sport, both boys had been absorbingly

interested in the contest, but now Ted's thoughts returned to the

problem of escape from Deserters' Island. Declaring that another attempt

should be made that night, he urged Hubert to be watchful and ready.

Then, stepping cautiously to the side of the negro, whose eyes were

fastened on the now noisily disputing slackers, the boy said:

"We must try it again to-night, July."

"Don' know 'bout dat," said the negro doubtfully. "Better wait. Dey'll

be watchin' us too close."

"That's it; they won't be expecting it to-night, and that's the very

reason we ought to have a good chance."

This view of the matter promptly appealed to the negro, who ceased to

object and listened attentively to the boy's suggestions.

"Get ready on the sly," urged Ted. "Put a bucket of food where you can

lay your hands on it, and late in the night we'll slip out of the loft

and let you out of your pen."

"All right, Cap'n Ted; I'll be ready, an' if I's sleep, des gimme a

punch in de ribs."

Then they moved quickly away from each other and gave their attention to

the loudly contending slackers.

"And _I_ say Mr. James gits the prize," cried Mitch' Jenkins.

He detached himself from a noisy group as he spoke, stepped to the side

of the waiting victor and poured the collection of coins into his hand.

"He didn't git it fair," declared Sweet Jackson, in loud, angry tones.

"Who _can't_ wring off a gander's neck if he swings on to it that-a

way?"

"We all had the same chance to do what he did," argued Jenkins,

good-humoredly. "The trouble was we couldn't keep our grip."

"I say hit wan't done fair!" repeated Jackson, in great anger.

Flushed with victory, James did not pause to calculate consequences and

now gave his accuser the lie, which, in local parlance, was equivalent

to the "first lick."

Sweet Jackson's face turned livid, and, whipping out a large

pocket-knife, he leaped toward James. Almost at the same instant

Jenkins and Carter sprang toward Jackson from opposite sides, but the

uplifted blade descended before James had protected himself and ere the

interference was made fully effective. Although Jackson's arm was

seized, the point of the knife deeply grazed the left cheek of the

prize-winner. A moment later the staring spectators noted a rapidly

expanding streak of red. The murderous but fortunately arrested blow had

done only slight damage, yet the free flow of blood imparted a harsh and

startling reality to the forbidding scene, the horror of which was

intensified by the effect on Billy.

"Oh, yes, Zack James, see now what you got for pullin' off my gander's

head!" cried the witless young man triumphantly, capering about and

giggling. "See what you got now! I wish my gander knowed it. I'll bet he

does know, too. Anyhow he'll know by and by and he'll laugh. He'll have

a good laugh."

"Stop that!" commanded Jenkins, turning a shocked and stern face toward

the untimely merrymaker.

Then Billy subsided, watching as silently as the other spectators while

Jackson was forced away in one direction and James in the other, both

cursing with great fury, and each vowing that he would take the life of

the other.