Boy Scouts in Southern Waters Part 18

"They say the negroes and some of the whites down here do just that.

They bury it in the ground a while then pack it into a mattress and have a fine bed. It must be buried in the earth for a time, though, they say.

It is funny looking stuff isn't it?"

"It surely is. But what is that green plant up there? It looks as if the oak tree were all dead except that one sprig of green. Strange that it should keep only one twig alive."

"I believe that's mistletoe growing on a limb of the oak."

"I guess you're right. And down there at the foot of the tree I see a quail. He's humped over and seems to be trying to make himself smaller all the time."

"Hush, man," Harry protested. "Quails don't grow down South as far as this! They're a Northern bird."

"Then maybe I don't know what a quail is," retorted Arnold.

"I don't mean that," replied Harry, "but it seems strange to think of quail being here. I always had an idea that quail humped themselves under the shelter of a corn shock with snow blowing around their toes and nearly freezing them to death."

"Maybe you're right. They tell me the natives call these birds partridges. Just the same, I'll venture to say that I can call them out of cover. Want to see me try it?"

"Sure. Go as far as you like. We won't shoot them, though."

"Certainly not. We have all we need for food except maybe a rabbit.

Watch me toll them on."

Both boys were very quiet for a few minutes, then Arnold sent out a plaintive "Bob White" call. In a few minutes he repeated the cry. This time an answer came and directly both boys were delighted to observe the little bright eyed bird that had responded stepping out from the shelter of a clump of gra.s.s.

"Too bad to disappoint him," declared Arnold, "but it is getting on towards the shank of the afternoon, so let's take a walk around and then get back to the town. The Fortuna is probably on the railway by now. I wish the others could have been with us this glorious afternoon. It has been fine so far."

Leaving the river the boys walked slowly along scanning closely the vegetation on all sides and keeping an alert eye open for the feathered and furry denizens of the forest.

A rabbit scurried across their path and hastened with great leaps down the path. The boys laughed to see the patch of white tail go bounding down the old trail along which they were walking.

"I'll choose the next one," declared Harry. "Rabbit stew for supper wouldn't go so bad! It would help out on canned goods."

"All right, Harry," responded Arnold. "We'll make the limit one rabbit apiece if you don't mind. We'll have a good supper at that. There's no use taking home more than we can eat soon."

"Here's mine, then," announced Harry taking quick aim at a fleeing cotton-tail. "I'll choose this one right here."

As a tribute to Harry's excellent aim the rabbit bounded high in the air and then rolled over and over lying quite still after falling to the earth. His career had been stopped instantly.

"I hope I can do as well," was Arnold's pleased comment.

"There's your chance," announced Harry. "See him?"

"Come here, rabbit," cried Arnold taking quick aim.

At his shot the rabbit bounded into the air, falling as had Harry's. But instead of lying quietly where he had fallen the rabbit struggled and ran limping away. It seemed impossible for him to go rapidly, however.

He managed to get away just too quickly to be caught. The boys hastened after their quarry in an effort to end its struggles as much as to secure the game.

Their chase led them to a low spot where rank gra.s.s was growing. The dead stalks of the previous year's growth were fallen to the earth, making a dense mat of dried stubble.

"Small chance of finding him in here, Harry," was Arnold's comment. "We might as well give it up and go on back to the boat."

"I don't like to do that," protested Harry. "He might be right under foot for all we know. Let's kick around a little. Why, what's this?" he continued stooping to pick an object from the ground. The next moment with a scream he jumped backward.

A great snake had lain directly under his feet but now was coiled in a ma.s.s. Its tail was whirring angrily while the great triangular head waved slowly from side to side.

Fascinated the boy stood as if rooted to the spot.

Arnold was in direct line with Harry between himself and the snake, so dared not shoot. Harry's automatic had dropped from his nerveless fingers at the first alarming whir of the vibrating rattles. Unable to make a sound or move a muscle the lad stood entirely unnerved while the great reptile prepared to strike.

Arnold fired two quick shots from his automatic, hoping to attract the attention of the snake from its intended victim. His hope was not in vain. At the sound the snake seemed to hesitate a moment as if undecided what to do. Evidently its attention had been attracted from Harry.

Elated at his success, Arnold fired twice more, but this time the angry buzzing recommenced. It seemed as if there was no hope whatever for the lad who stood with the sweat now pouring from his face. To this day he says that he can distinctly remember a little drop of sweat trickling down his nose and pausing at the tip before it splashed to the earth. He declares that it seemed a lifetime while he stood there expecting momentarily to feel the deadly fangs dart into his body and leave their fatal poison.

He protests that so fascinated was he by the awful horror of the situation that he can describe accurately every marking and every detail of the great snake as it lay there coiled for the blow that would prove fatal to himself.

Almost fainting, Harry heard the two shots that caused the snake to momentarily lower its head and cease its buzzing rattles from sounding.

Hope rose within his breast as he noted this action, yet he could not move from the spot. His feet seemed leaden.

The next instant the snake again raised its head and the second shot fired by Arnold seemed to increase its anger for it recommenced with more vigor than before the sharp buzzing of its rattles. In desperation, Arnold emptied his automatic into the ground at his feet, but without effect upon the snake.

A rifle shot echoed through the forest. The rattler lunged forward.

CHAPTER XIII

A FRUITLESS SEARCH

"Surely that can't be Wyckoff," declared Tom. "He wouldn't be around here at this time of day. Couldn't you be mistaken?"

"I don't think so," stoutly protested Jack. "He seemed to be poking his head around the corner of that shed and when he saw I noticed him, he dodged back. I am quite sure it was he."

"Well, I think he has his nerve to be sneaking around the yard at this hour. Why can't he go on about his business instead of hounding us all the time, I'd like to know," indignantly stormed Frank. "He's about the poorest specimen of humanity I know."

"He thinks he's well within his rights," argued Jack. "I don't like him, but I must admire his 'stick-to-itiveness.'"

"Whatever that is," put in Tom. "If he'd stick to it and dig up his good-for-nothing old treasure chest himself instead of barking at the moon, we'd all be better off. But here we are at the good old Fortuna.

My, my, how she looms up out of the water."

"She certainly does look big when one can get a view of the hull below the water line," agreed Jack, with a note of pride.

For some time the boys walked around the vessel, noting her fine lines and examining the hull for possible defects. They found nothing that they considered worthy of repair except the hole through which their plug projected. Jack examined with minute care the outboard end of the shaft log and the propeller.

"Here comes the watchman," announced Frank as the boys paused at the foot of the ladder before going aboard the motor boat.