Swamp Cat Part 11

None had been loquacious, but all had listened and all had promised to leave Andy's muskrats alone until he himself gave the word. Through that simple understanding, the change was worked.

Formerly considered at least queer, if not an outright crackpot, he had now advanced to being respected. n.o.body except himself had thought his swamp anything except a worthless marsh. He had not only seen possibilities there but was in the process of developing them. Time might very well prove that it was they, not he, who had been short-sighted.

When he arrived at his house, Andy tied Tom to the porch railing.

Frosty, napping in the sun, glided silkily over, regarded the horse with haughty and the muskrats with haughtier disdain, then sat down to watch the proceedings. Unstrapping the ropes that bound the crates to Tom's pack saddle, Andy lifted them to the ground, one by one. When they were all unloaded, he untied Tom, looped the lead rope through his bridle so it wouldn't drag and patted him on the rump. The horse started cheerfully up the trail toward his home.

These muskrats were designed for the most inaccessible ponds and sloughs in the swamp and it was too late even to think of taking them in today.

Two at a time, one under each arm, Andy carried the crates inside. He stepped back to look at them with pleased satisfaction.

An almost visible sneer on his face, Frosty paraded up and down the row of crates, looked intently at the occupants of each and turned loftily away. Andy laughed.

"I take it you don't think they're your social equals?"

Disdaining to glance again at the crated muskrats, Frosty curled up in his favorite place near Andy's chair. He lost himself in his own meditations and the young man gave him an affectionate glance. The further this partnership progressed, the better he liked it.

Andy was up and had breakfasted before daylight. He let Frosty out and then gave his attention to the muskrats. Twenty crates meant four loads of five crates each. That many was by no means a heavy pack, but it was as much as could be carried comfortably through the swamp. Besides, Andy had in mind four different sections of the swamp where he wanted to plant these animals. Strapping five crates to his pack board, he went outside.

Always before, as soon as he was let out of the house, Frosty had gone about his own affairs of the day and usually Andy had not seen him again until after nightfall. This morning he was surprised to find the kitten still waiting, and even more astonished when Frosty fell in beside him.

Andy raised puzzled brows.

"What are you aiming to do here, fella?"

Tail high, eyes friendly, Frosty stayed beside him. Andy grinned good-naturedly. Dogs were supposed to accompany their masters wherever they went, but n.o.body expected a cat to do so. However, this one had evidently made up his mind to go along and he was welcome. Maybe, Andy thought whimsically, he wants to see for himself what is going to happen to the muskrats.

Andy made his way toward the north end of the swamp, a wild and tangled place, with not too many sloughs and ponds but more trees and brush than any other part of the whole area. It was also the most dangerous part of the swamp because safe trails were few. The boy worked his way through a tangle of brush and came to a slough.

He stopped. Frosty halted beside him and Andy looked speculatively at his companion. So far, the kitten had shown not the slightest desire to let himself be handled or to permit any undue familiarity. But when Andy stooped and picked him up, Frosty settled contentedly in his arms. Safe on the other side of the slough, of his own accord he jumped down.

Andy grinned in appreciation. While respecting his own self, Frosty had no objection to hitchhiking when that was in order. He'd known very well that Andy could carry him securely across the slough. Again on the ground, he paced contentedly beside his partner.

He sat on the bank and watched solemnly when Andy released the first pair of muskrats in a weed-grown pond. Confused at first, the liberated animals quickly gave way to the usual wild delight and for the next few moments devoted themselves to sporting in the slough. Then, swimming to the bank, they began to satisfy their hunger. Aside from keeping a wary eye on Andy, they made no attempt to hide and offered not the slightest indication that they knew danger might lurk here.

Andy went on. Previous experience had taught him that, with rare exceptions, pen-raised muskrats--and probably most other pen-raised creatures--would react in just this fashion. Never having known danger, they could not possibly understand that it existed. But they would learn if they escaped the first few perils that threatened, and though some would surely die, some would live.

Making his way to the next slough, where once more Frosty watched gravely, Andy released another pair of muskrats. He liberated a third pair, and was about to free a fourth when he discovered that the kitten was no longer beside him. Andy swung to look for his companion.

Thirty yards away, Frosty had leaped to the top of a moss-covered boulder and flattened himself on it. His tail was straight behind him, and he was so still that not even a hair rippled. His att.i.tude was one of watchful alertness.

The short hairs on the back of Andy's neck rippled and he had a presentiment of danger. At once he dismissed it. There were plenty of dangers in the swamp, but he knew all of them and understood how to cope with them. Still, Frosty had heard or sensed something of which he remained unaware. Andy started toward him. He had covered less than half the distance when the kitten slipped from the boulder, melted into the brush, and disappeared.

A second time, Andy had a premonition of danger and a second time he forced it from his mind. Certainly, Frosty knew something he did not know. However, it was not only possible but highly probable that the kitten might be greatly alarmed by something which would not trouble him at all. Andy strained to hear a rattlesnake or to see evidence of a coyote, bobcat, great horned owl, or anything else that might have frightened Frosty.

He could neither see nor hear anything at all, and anxiety for the kitten rose within him. He was not greatly concerned about whatever had caused his partner to flee. Frosty had lived in the wilderness a long while and the very fact that he had lived was evidence that he knew how to stay alive. But as far as Andy knew, the only ways out of this section of the swamp led across sloughs and he was certain that, of his own accord, Frosty would not cross water. Therefore, unless he could be found, he was marooned here.

Andy hurried to liberate his two remaining pairs of muskrats, then hastened back to the boulder upon which Frosty had crouched. He called,

"Frosty."

There was no response and the boy's anxiety mounted. He'd lived with his partner long enough to a.s.sure himself that the quality which he had first seen in Frosty was indeed a part of him. The kitten was not only capable of deciding for himself and acting as he felt best, but once he had made up his mind to do a certain thing, he would do it and nothing whatever would swerve him. Even though he heard his friend calling, he would respond only if he was satisfied that that was the proper thing to do. Andy began methodically to cast back and forth.

An hour and a half later, he gave up the search as hopeless. No human could find a cat that did not want to be found, and the day was wasting.

The boy hurried hopefully back to the slough over which he had carried Frosty. But the frost-coated kitten was not waiting for him. Andy deliberated.

He should turn back and resume the hunt for his partner. Sooner or later, no matter where he hid or what his reason for hiding was, when that reason no longer existed, Frosty would show himself. At the same time, and aside from their practical value, he had an obligation to the remaining muskrats. They'd been imprisoned in the little crates for as long as anything should be, and it was only right and just to release them. Andy made up his mind.

Hurrying back to the house, he strapped five more crates on the pack board and took them into the swamp. He did not stop for lunch because he wanted to finish as soon as possible and go look for Frosty. He took a third load and went back for the last one.

These he carried to a remote but relatively open section of the swamp.

There were few trees and little brush here, but swamp gra.s.s grew tall and the ponds and sloughs were choked with succulent aquatic growth that would enable his released captives to live richly. He freed four pairs and was about to liberate a fifth when he straightened.

Again, and for no apparent reason, he felt a strong sense of danger. The short hairs on his neck resumed p.r.i.c.kling. Something was indeed in the swamp, but it was not stalking Frosty. It was on his trail.

Andy whirled suddenly to see Luke Trull, who had been peering cautiously over the swamp gra.s.s, throw himself down in it.

8

MAROONED

Acting as though he had seen nothing, Andy put his remaining cage of muskrats beside the slough that was to be their future home. He knelt, opened the cage, spilled the muskrats into the slough and watched them swim bewilderedly about. Casually, for Luke Trull was crafty as any fox that had ever padded through the swamp, he strapped the empty crate on his pack board and slipped into the shoulder straps.

He turned as if intending to retrace exactly the path he had followed.

The swamp gra.s.s was tall and dense. A man who wanted to crawl away would do so if his suspicions were aroused and have every chance of hiding successfully. When the path had brought him as near as possible to the place where he had seen Luke Trull duck into the gra.s.s, Andy shucked the pack board from his shoulder and ran as swiftly as possible toward the spot. A moment later, he looked down on the hillman.

Luke was on his hands and knees. His head turned so he could see over his shoulder, and the eyes that met Andy's were as cold as those of any hunting great horned owl or bobcat. But his lips framed an appeasing smile and his voice was amiable,

"Hi, Andy."

Andy stood still, for the moment unable to speak. Fierce, hot anger mingled with almost complete discouragement. Even though he had taken the Casmans and the Haroldsons into his confidence, it had still been a grave mistake to bring the muskrats in by day, for Luke Trull had seen and Luke had known. The boy licked dry lips.

When he had left the house this morning, it had never occurred to him that he might be followed and therefore he had been off guard. Of course he shouldn't have been, but it was too late to think of that now. Since he had failed to be alert, any hillman who cared to do so, while remaining un.o.bserved himself, could have followed him wherever he went.

Andy knew now why Frosty had hidden. Luke must have been on his trail from the very first. He himself had not only shown the fellow the safe paths into the swamp, but Luke knew where everyone of these twenty pairs of muskrats were planted. It went without saying that he would know how to find them again, and probably he would be able to find the others.

Andy bit off his words and spat them at the crouching man,

"I told you to stay out of my swamp!"

"Why now, you never told me nothin' like that."

"What are you doing here?"

"Lookin'."

"Get up, Luke!"

"Now, Andy, mought's well be neighborly. You give leave to Ira'n Jud Casman an' all the Haroldsons to help ya trap mushrats. All I come out for was to see why ya fo'got to ask me?"