They landed on Deserters' Island late in the afternoon. The news of
their arrival appeared to reach the camp ahead of the captive boys, for
as soon as they followed the upward path through the swamp-cane to the
outskirts of the familiar clearing they saw July running to meet them.
The negro's smiling expressions of delight at sight of them were checked
by his recollection that they were returning to captivity.
"I sho is sorry dey cotch you if I is glad to see you," he apologized.
"But, Cap'n Ted, you won't have such a hard time dis time 'cause de
gen'l'mens is got back an' now de dawgs'll have to keep dey place."
Ted did not wait for an explanation of this mysterious announcement, for
he now saw Buck Hardy standing near the sleeping-loft and ran eagerly
toward him.
"Oh, Mr. Hardy," he cried, in enormous relief and satisfaction, "I'm
_so_ glad to see you. We've had a terrible time since you left. I--I--I
hope your mother is better."
Buck smiled down on the delighted boy, warmly clasping his hand.
"She's all right now, thank you, kid," he said. "Sorry I had to stay
outside so long. Just got back two hours ago--with Peters and Jones. So
you've had a terrible time, eh? July has been tellin' me, but he don't
know it all, and I want to know it all up to this minute. Did Sweet
Jackson do anything to you after he caught you? Did he--whip
you--or----"
"He would have, if it hadn't been for Mr. Jenkins."
"Tell me all about it."
After walking into the clearing attended by the pleased and garrulous
negro, Hubert shook hands with Al Peters and Bud Jones, but awaited his
turn to speak to Buck Hardy, not wishing to interrupt the big slacker's
earnest conversation with Ted. As he looked around, Hubert saw Billy
seated a short distance away and wondered why he seemed to take no
interest in their arrival. Judging from past experience, he would have
expected the half-wit not only to be pleased but even to caper around
him and Ted, giggling and shouting his expressions of gratification. But
now Billy seemed to be intently contemplating some object in the grass
at his feet and to be oblivious of everything else.
The news of the return of Hardy, Peters and Jones evidently reached
Jackson before he came up from the landing, for when he appeared he had
a conscious and depressed air. He spoke a perfunctory greeting to Peters
and Jones and then, as he busied himself about the camp, his roving
glance frequently returned in a stealthy sort of way to Buck Hardy where
he stood questioning and listening to Ted. His manner was expectant and
he probably was not surprised when Buck, turning from the boy toward the
groups near the fire, called out:
"Sweet Jackson!"
Jackson pretended not to hear and sought to delay the coming reckoning.
"Billy! You Billy," he called sharply, "go bring me some fresh water."
The absorbed Billy looked up for a moment with an air of one rudely
awakened from a dream, but he did not move and his eyes promptly
returned to the object in the grass that seemed to fascinate him.
"Don't you hear me?" shouted Jackson.
"Don't you hear _me_?" shouted Buck. "Sweet Jackson, step out h-yuh and
take yo' whippin'."
Jackson could pretend inattention no longer. Planning to force the other
men to interfere while storming at Billy, he now whipped a revolver out
of his pocket and wheeled round.
"Drop it," ordered Buck. "I've got you covered. I expected this and I
was ready."
Two men rushed to Jackson's side, he permitted Zack James to take his
weapon, and moved a step or two forward. Then Buck took his hand from
the revolver in his coat pocket.
"What I done to you, Buck Hardy?" demanded Jackson with as blustering an
air as he could support.
"Nothin'," answered Buck. "You know better'n to do anything to _me_.
It's what you've done to two helpless boys when I was gone. _You_ know
what I'm talkin' about. I can be sorry for a natural-born coward. If I
saw you runnin' from the draft officers and hollerin' that you wished
you was a baby and a _gal_ baby at that, I'd be sorry for you. But I
can't stand a man that's a coward underneath and a bully on top whenever
he thinks there's nobody to stop him. I whipped you once for beatin' on
that po' weak-minded Billy. This time it's for what you did to two as
nice boys as there ever was. I'd whip you for it if every man in this
camp stood behind you. But there ain't nobody to stand behind you
because they all despise you."
This withering speech and his fear of certain punishment combined caused
Jackson's lip to twitch nervously. He doubled his fists and prepared to
ward off the coming blows, determining to strike back at the outset in
order to lessen his disgrace by a stubborn show of fight. But, try to
stand his ground as he might, he found himself retreating backward
before his advancing enemy.
Before Hardy had arrived within striking distance Jackson had backed
into Billy and trodden upon the half-wit's outstretched legs.
"Git out o' my way!" stormed the retreating man, glad to divert
attention from himself.
Billy sprang up and jumped out of reach, as if believing that he had
been attacked. Then he faced his supposed foe, a strange glow in his
eyes.
Suddenly Sweet Jackson became aware that he was treading upon some soft
living body, which yielded beneath his weight and struggled in a
peculiar, writhing way. As his glance swept downward, he heard a harsh
rattling sound and saw that he stood upon a large coiled snake.
The look of mortal terror on his face and his gasp of horror caused Buck
Hardy to stop in his tracks, and several of the on-lookers to start
forward, just as the rattler struck the unfortunate man on the right leg
above the ankle. With a wild cry Jackson jumped--too late!
[Illustration: With a wild cry Jackson jumped--too late!]
A laugh at such a moment was the most unexpected and shocking thing in
the world, and for the moment it drew every eye to Billy, who, giggling,
cried out:
"That's right, son! Give it to him, son!"
Then Ted and Hubert and July comprehended what had happened before
Jackson, in an agony of alarm, staggered out into the open, crying that
he had been bitten by a rattlesnake and calling for help.
"I'm mighty glad I hadn't hit him," murmured Buck Hardy, as he joined
those who, grabbing sticks and guns, started in pursuit of the snake
which was now rapidly crawling away.
The rattler was quickly overtaken and killed, greatly to the indignation
and sorrow of Billy. Then the attention of all was centered upon
Jackson, who now sat with his back against a tree, tearing off shoe and
sock in a hurried, terrified way, groaning aloud and shuddering in
horror. The wound, when exposed, was seen to be swelling already.
"If anybody's got any whisky, for God's sake bring it out," shouted Buck
Hardy.
He looked from one face to another, as heads were shaken, several
reminding him that they were in a prohibition State. Only Jim Carter
admitted that he had "just a smodgykin" saved up for a time of need. He
ran to the sleeping-loft and returned with a flask containing less than
half a pint of colorless whisky. This was forthwith poured down
Jackson's throat.
Meanwhile Zack James and Mitch' Jenkins had drawn stout cords as tightly
as possible round the leg above and below the wound, with a view to
check the circulation of poisoned blood. This done, large portions of
the raw quivering flesh of a turkey just killed were pressed hard, one
after another, upon the wound itself, these supposedly acting as an
absorbent.
One of the men suggested that the raw flesh of the rattler be applied in
lieu of the turkey, mentioning a story he had heard to the effect that
the best results could be thus obtained; but the poisoned man shuddered
and refused to permit this.
He called pitifully for "a doctor," and the men about him only looked at
each other helplessly, the nearest physician being many miles too far
away to be sent for and brought through the swamp's difficulties in time
to be of any service. There seemed to be nothing further to do but to
continue to apply raw flesh to the wound.
By the time July announced supper, which nobody could eat, Jackson's leg
was startlingly swollen and an hour or two later he had begun to wander
in his mind.
Meanwhile, Hubert had related to Buck Hardy and several other listeners
how he had one day been invited to visit the rattlesnake at its hole;
how Billy had fed it, and seemed to be on the friendliest terms with it.
Ted and July having confirmed Hubert's story, it became clear to
everyone that Billy had brought the snake into the camp and was playing
with it when the retreating Jackson stepped upon it. Nobody forgot that
Jackson was of an ugly temper and had harshly used the half-witted boy
whom he had brought into the swamp and who was said to be his cousin;
but none the less was Billy now looked upon with suspicion and aversion,
and by common consent he was shut up in the prison-pen that had been
built for July. Rafe Wheeler gave expression to the general sentiment
when he said:
"We don't want no sich walkin' free aroun' this camp. Fust thing we know
he'll be tolin' up another rattlesnake to bite some of us."
As the poisoned man grew steadily worse and the inevitable issue had to
be faced, Buck Hardy called Peters, Jones, Jenkins and James into
consultation.
"He won't last through the night," said Buck in low tones, "and I reckon
we'll have to bury him right h-yuh. He'd spoil before we could git him
out. What do you say, men?"
All agreed that this was the only thing to be done, Zack James adding:
"And 'sides that them that undertook to tote him out would run a
turrible risk of goin' to jail for dodgin' the draft."
"Another thing," said Buck: "there's that po' fool Billy. He ought to go
to his people, and I know you all want to get rid o' him. What had we
better do about that?"
"Rafe Wheeler is goin' out for salt in the mornin'," said Zack James.
"Maybe we could git him to take him."
This suggestion was approved, Wheeler was approached; and, though he
objected, saying that he was afraid to lie down in the woods with "a
crazy snake-charmer," a collection of contributed quarters and dimes
offered as a substantial reward, induced him to undertake the
disagreeable task.
Shortly after midnight Sweet Jackson drew his last breath, after his
physical anguish had been mercifully dulled by delirium. Then a hush
fell on the camp. Ted and Hubert retired to the sleeping-loft, but all
the men sat about the fire until break of day. Straightening the limbs
and covering the face of the dead, they sat about a freshened fire,
speaking little and thinking much. Young men who had scarcely reflected
seriously in all their lives did so now. Some of them feared the blow
that had fallen was a judgment not only upon Jackson but upon the
slacker camp in general, and more than one troubled mind wrestled with
the question as to whether to turn from a selfish and cowardly course
and go where duty called.
Awakening rather late in the morning, Ted and Hubert heard the sound of
carpenter's tools and, descending from the sleeping-loft, they saw two
of the slackers engaged in the construction of a rough coffin. Later
they learned that others were digging a grave several hundred yards out
in the pine woods. As July was giving them their breakfast, they also
heard with relief that Wheeler had "gone out," and that poor Billy had
been persuaded to accompany him.
An hour later the body was placed in the coffin and four men bore it to
the grave, where the whole camp assembled. When the boys reached the
spot Buck Hardy softly called Ted to come to him where he stood in
consultation with several of the slackers.
"We ain't got no preacher nor no Bible," he said to the boy, "and we've
agreed that the least we can do is to stand round the grave and every
man say what he can remember of the prayers he used to say. We don't
have to say 'em out loud if we don't want to."
There was a slight pause, and then Buck rather awkwardly added:
"Kid, I was thinkin' that, as you are the speaker in this camp, maybe
you could remember some o' them pieces out o' the Bible they say at
funerals, and----"
"Oh, Mr. Hardy, I'm afraid I can't," gasped Ted, appalled by the solemn
responsibility thus placed upon him.
"You can do it, kid," urged Buck. "Don't be scared. Nobody will crack a
smile, and we'll all think you're just great," As Ted still hesitated,
Buck said further: "If you can remember any o' them Bible pieces, I
think Sweet's folks would be glad if you said 'em."
"Well--I'll try--to remember some," said the shrinking boy, unable to
resist this last appeal, "and--and--I'll do my best."
"Good for you," said Buck, putting an affectionate hand on Ted's
shoulder.
Then he turned, gave the awaited signal, and all present formed a circle
round the grave. Then, with bent and uncovered heads, practically every
one repeated in whispers the whole of known or fragments of
long-forgotten prayers.
As soon as the last man to do this looked up, thus signifying that he
had finished, Buck stood a little forward with Ted, his hand on the
boy's shoulder. Then Ted, in a voice at first low and trembling but
gradually strengthening, his eyes fixed upon the coffin, repeated:
"Jesus said, I am the Resurrection and the Life. He that believeth in
Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.... Blessed are the dead who
die in the Lord; they rest from their labors, and their works do follow
them.... Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust...."
The boy hesitated and, turning to Buck whispered anxiously:
"I--I don't think I can remember any more."
"That'll do fine," whispered Buck, then announced aloud: "Now we'll bury
him."