Dick in the Everglades Part 18

d.i.c.k guided the canoe beside the larger boat and Ned spoke quietly to one of the men, who was scowling at him.

"You know what I have come for. I want my rifle."

"What rifle? I don't know anything about your rifle."

"I mean the rifle you stole from our camp this afternoon. I want it and I'm going to have it."

"See here," said the man, who was purple with rage, as he picked up a rifle, "I'll blow the top of your head off if you tell me I lie."

"You lie," said Ned calmly. "You are a liar, a thief and a coward.

Now give me that rifle. I am not going to ask you for it many more times."

"I won't give it to you and I don't know what keeps me from blowing your head off. I believe I will yet."

"I can tell you why you don't. Because you know there would be a hundred men on your trail who would never leave it while you were alive. Because you wouldn't dare show your face to man, woman or child, white, black or red, in Lee County or anywhere else. Because your own partner would be the first to give you up."

"He would, would he?"

"Yes, he would!" said the man referred to. "Don't be a fool, but give the kid his gun, or I will."

The rifle was handed to Ned and the boys paddled back to their camp.

On the way d.i.c.k said:

"I was scared stiff, Ned, when that fellow took up his rifle and I saw how mad he was. Weren't you a little bit frightened yourself?"

"Not then. I'm a good deal scared now to think of it."

As the boys that night sat leaning against a log which they had made soft with ma.s.ses of long gray moss, watching the dying out of the fire which had cooked their supper, another skiff touched at their bank, bringing the man to whom they had given the salt and also carrying the carca.s.s of a fine buck.

"There, boys, better smoke what yer can't eat by termorrer. I'll show yer how."

"We know how and we're very much obliged. But we must pay for it, you know."

"I can't take a cent and it makes me feel bad t' have yer talk about it. Have yer seen them fellers yit?"

"Oh, yes. They called on us and we returned the call. We didn't happen to be at home when they called, though," said d.i.c.k.

"They come here t' your camp?"

"Yes. They certainly came."

"'nd you not here?"

"No."

"What did they take?"

"Stole a rifle," said d.i.c.k.

"I'll git it back. Don't yer worry, I'll git it back and I'll start now," and the outlaw rose from the log on which he was sitting.

"Don't go. We got the rifle back."

"How did yer do it?"

d.i.c.k told the story of the recovery of the rifle. The outlaw sat for a minute looking down at the ashes of the fire, and then, speaking very slowly and with emphatic little nods between the words, said:

"And them's th' fellers I thought needed lookin' arter."

There was silence for some time and then Ned spoke in a voice that was low from suppressed feeling.

"My friend, I don't know your name. I don't know what you did. I don't ask it. But I believe you are too good a man to be living the life of an outlaw. Now, can't something be done to help you? If some men of influence worked for your pardon, couldn't it be got?"

"Reckon not. It's bin tried. I'll tell yer jist how 'twas. I killed a man. He worried me 'nd threatened me 'nd tried ter kill me with a knife, 'f I'd shot him then, n.o.body'd said nuthin', but I waited 'nd then I got scared, thot he'd kill me, 'nd one day I shot him. I was put in th' pen, then I was sent t' the chain gang 'nd set t' boxin'

trees f'r turpentine. Saw a man flogged day I got thar. Sed I'd never git whipped if work would save me. I was the strongest man in the gang. Boxed more trees 'n anybody. More I did, more I had t'. I don't say I was whipped. If I was I didn't deserve it. If I was 'nd ever see th' man that did it I'll kill him. Know how turpentine gangs is guarded? Boy sits up on platform with rifle 'nd gives orders. S'pose yer sa.s.sy to him or he just wants fun with yer. When Cap--that's th' man that whips--comes 'long, boy sez feller's bin shirkin'. Then feller's tied t' tree 'nd Cap beats him till feller begs t' be killed. I don't want t' hurt anybody 'cept one feller, but I ain't goin' back t' no chain gang. If the sheriff holds me up, 'nd sez 'Come back or I'll shoot,' I'll say 'Shoot!'"

The boys were very silent after the outlaw's story and when he left them they shook hands warmly with him and asked what they could do for him; ammunition, food, clothing, money, anything they had was at his service.

"Don't want nuthin'. You've give me more'n you'll ever know," said the outlaw gruffly.

But the gruffness was a bit tremulous and there were tears in the man's voice.

The outlaw got in the way of spending his evenings with the young explorers and Ned pumped him dry of his knowledge of the Everglades, the Big Cypress and the lesser swamps of South Florida. He made charts from lines traced in the dirt to show rivers, bays, prairie land and swamps. Ned learned of hidden creeks that connected waters thought to be completely separated by land and of others that could be connected by a short carry.

CHAPTER XV

d.i.c.k AND THE BEAR

d.i.c.k wanted a bear and the outlaw showed him a near-by swamp where several of the creatures lived. Day after day d.i.c.k waded, wandered and watched in that swamp with the rifle, while Ned tramped in another direction carrying the shotgun, making maps of the country, and picking up occasionally a duck or Indian hen for dinner.

Sometimes d.i.c.k got sight of a bear, but Bruin was shy and kept well out of range. One day, while sitting in some thick woods, hoping that a bear would wander near him, d.i.c.k heard a loud tearing sound that seemed to come from the top of a little group of young palmettos. He crept as slowly and silently as possible near the trees and saw a bear sitting in the top of a palmetto, tearing away the outer husk of the bud of the tree which is the cabbage of the Cracker and often serves as his bread. While d.i.c.k was creeping nearer to get a surer shot, Bruin tore out the bud and, with the cabbage in his mouth, dropped from the top of the tree to the ground, alighting on its fore shoulder. d.i.c.k didn't know that this was the way bears in that country usually came down a tree when in a hurry, and supposed the bear had met with an accident and was killed. He changed his mind the next instant when the creature came racing toward him. d.i.c.k and the bear were about ten feet apart when they saw one another. The bear had to turn quickly to keep from running over d.i.c.k, and d.i.c.k had trouble to keep from punching the bear in the ribs with his rifle when he fired at it.

No one was hurt on this first round and the bear thought it had escaped and so did the boy. d.i.c.k churned a cartridge from the magazine to the barrel of his rifle and watched closely the undergrowth through which the bear was running, hoping for another shot. Just as the splashing in the marsh grew indistinct and d.i.c.k realized that his last chance had gone, he got one glimpse of the bear as it sprang upon a log that lay across its path. d.i.c.k threw his rifle to his shoulder with the quick motion of the sportsman who takes a woodc.o.c.k on the wing, and fired. The bear, which was distant more than a hundred yards, disappeared and it seemed to the boy scarcely worth while to follow it. It was only the notion to look for the mark of his bullet on some tree near the log that induced him to wallow through the swamp to where he had last seen the bear.

To his amazement he found a piece of bone and some fresh blood on the log. He had no thought now of abandoning the trail. He followed it through swamp and jungle, sometimes losing it where the ground was hard or where it crossed the path of an alligator. Often when he became fearful that he had lost the trail a smear of blood on root or leaf told him that he was on the track. From former hunts and the study of Ned's maps, he knew the general lay of the land, but he stopped often and noted his course, for he meant to follow that trail and camp on it if necessary until he lost it finally or found the bear. The animal seemed to know all the bad stretches of marsh and th.o.r.n.y bits of jungle and, as the hours pa.s.sed and night drew near, without his getting a sight of his quarry, he consoled himself with the thought of what Mr. Streeter had told him:

"A man is never lost in the swamp so long as he knows where he is himself."

d.i.c.k knew he wouldn't starve. There were always birds to be shot, alligators which he could kill with a club, and palmetto cabbage which he could dig out with his knife. He had his matches in a watertight box, a little bag of salt in his pocket, the swamp water was fresh, and what more could a hunter-boy ask for? He felt so cheerful that he began to whistle, which brought him bad luck, for he stumbled over a root which caught both feet and threw him head-down into a deep pool of mud. He was half strangled before he got out and was looking down shudderingly into the mora.s.s out of which he had crawled, when he missed his rifle and knew he had got to get back into the mudhole. It was so deep that he laid a branch across it to cling to, before venturing in. A big moccasin crawled from under a root beside the pool of mud as d.i.c.k stepped in it and the boy shut his teeth tight as he forced himself to wallow through the slimy, snaky ma.s.s from which his flesh recoiled.

He was waist-deep in that broth of mud when his feet found the rifle and he stooped down into it and groped around among roots that felt like living, squirming reptiles before he recovered the weapon. When he had sc.r.a.ped the most of the mud off of himself and out of the rifle it was too dark to follow the trail and d.i.c.k walked to a near-by thicket where he hoped to find better ground for a camp. He was peering into a dark recess in the thicket when a fierce growl within a few feet startled him terribly, but told him that he had found his bear--or another one. d.i.c.k was about to run, when a picture of Ned facing the outlaw formed itself in his mind and after that the bear couldn't have kicked him out of its path. As the boy's eyes became accustomed to the gloom he saw the bear lying within six feet, with jaws half open, and eyes fixed upon him. d.i.c.k believed the bear was dying, since he failed to spring upon him, but he thought a bullet would make things safer and he raised his rifle. He pointed the weapon at the animal's head, but it was too dark to see the sight of the rifle, the brain of the creature was small, and d.i.c.k, remembering that a bear with a sore head is likely to be cross, dropped the muzzle of his weapon to the fore shoulder of the beast, and fired. The bear scarcely moved, but its eyes closed and d.i.c.k was prudently waiting before touching it, when he heard the distant report of a gun and knew that Ned was worried about him. He fired an answering shot and then, finding a bit of dry ground beside the body of the bear, decided to eat his supper the next morning and lay down to sleep with his head on his new bear robe.

At daylight he heard the report of Ned's gun and fired his rifle in reply. The bear was so heavy that d.i.c.k had trouble in handling it and before he had finished skinning it the report of a gun within two hundred yards showed that Ned was out hunting for him and had taken the right course.

"Hope you didn't worry about me," was d.i.c.k's greeting as the boys met.