The Boy Scouts Down in Dixie; or, The Strange Secret of Alligator Swamp

by Herbert Carter

  CHAPTER XIV. SWAMP TACTICS.

  "Back water, fellows!" called out Step Hen, who could be cautious attimes, as well as bold.

  It was ludicrous to see how quickly the scouts did dip their paddles inagain, and not only stay the forward progress of the two canoes, butcause them to retrograde so that almost like magic they had succeeded inputting a tongue of land, on which trees grew densely, betweenthemselves and the danger zone.

  This did not apply so much to the alligator hunter, who still sat therein his boat, fingering his heavy rifle, and with bent head eying thedistance, as though it would please him exceedingly to just catch asingle glimpse of something moving, at which he might discharge hisweapon.

  If Tom Smith were anything like the sharpshooter he made out to be, theresult must certainly have proved disastrous to that unknown party whohad just given the little expedition such a start.

  "Do you see the coward, Mr. Smith?" called out Bumpus, who was highlyindignant at their receiving such a warm reception; just as though thisunknown person meant to claim the whole swamp as his preserves, andintended to serve warning on the scouts that they had better clear out,if they knew what was good for their health.

  "Sorry tuh say I don't seem tuh git the least sign o' the measlycritter!" came the reply, in a tone that told of mingled disgust anddisappointment.

  Saying which the alligator hunter picked up his paddle in one hand, andstill holding on to his gun, as if hope were not quite extinct, he urgedhis canoe backward, as though meaning to join the boys.

  Thad understood that this was not done from the same motives of cautionthat had caused them to retreat under fire. Tom Smith must have someother object in view, which would presently be made apparent.

  And as it turned out Thad's guess was pretty close to the bull's-eye;for hardly had the guide joined them than he was saying hurriedly:

  "I'm gwine tuh leave you fo' a leetle time, boys; but make shuah tuhstay right hyah till I comes back agin, which I calc'late ain't meanin'mo'n harf an hour at theh most."

  "What's up, Tom?" asked Giraffe, who had easily become familiar with thelanky hide hunter; just as though the fact that both were tall and thinhad served to draw them closer together than was the case with Bumpus,who, being built on an altogether different plan, could not be expectedto sympathize with one who was all bone and muscle.

  And as like draws like, Tom had even come to calling Giraffe by hisnick-name, because he heard the others doing so; though possibly the mandid not know what such an animal looked like, as most of his life hadbeen spent in the swamps; and while Louisiana boasts many queer animalsand birds within her borders, no one ever yet ran across a girafferunning wild there.

  "Why, yuh see, Giraffe, I'm ameanin' tuh slip 'round back thar, an' seenow if I couldn't git a squint at thet sneak. So-long, boys, an' don'ttake snap judgment on me, if yuh sees the bushes amovin' when I kimback."

  He immediately bent to his paddle, and the rough boat started away at afurious pace, showing that Tom Smith was deeply in earnest in his desireto pay back the unseen marksman who had given warning of his hostileintentions by that shot over their heads.

  They watched him for the space of about a minute, and then boat andpaddler had vanished amidst the thick green screen of bushes.

  "Whew! but didn't he send her along like fun, though?" Bumpus wanted toknow.

  "Well, he's been using the paddle for a good many years, and knows everylittle wrinkle of the business," returned Thad.

  "Yes," added Allan, "I'm never through watching the way he manages thatclumsy canoe of his. I've seen Penobscot Indians up in Maine who coulddo wonders with their boats, but they weren't in the same class withhim; because in the first place their canoes were either made of lightbirch-bark, or else canvas, painted and varnished until the sides wereas smooth as glass; whereas, look at the tub he handles like a flash.He's sure a wonder; and while I thought I could do a few stunts alongthe line of canoe work, I take off my hat to Tom Smith."

  "But what did he mean by saying like he did, that he hoped we wouldn'ttake snap judgment on him?" Bumpus asked. "That sounded mighty funny tome, because of course we ain't thinking of doing the least thing toannoy our own guide. Why, whatever could we do without him now, Iwonder?"

  Giraffe chuckled, as he often did in his aggravating way whenever Bumpusexposed his ignorance; but all the same, in spite of his affectedsuperiority, the lanky scout was seen to pay particular attention whenThad started in to explain; just as though he might after all not bequite so sure himself what Tom Smith did mean by that expression.

  "Why, it's this way, Bumpus," said the scoutmaster, always willing toenlighten the other, "he knows that we are more or less excited overthis unexpected happening; and as boys are apt to act first, and thinkafterwards, Tom Smith wanted to kindly request us not to shoot at themoving of a branch, and look up the cause later on. The chances are thatit would be him coming back, and he didn't feel like being peppered byour fire."

  "Huh! he ought to have known that all scouts learn never to shoot untilthey're good and sure of what they're firing at," grunted Step Hen.

  "Well, lots of people you'd think ought to know better, allow themselvesto get so flustered when deer hunting, that they're ready to bang awayif they see anything brown moving among the bushes. And every yeardozens of hunters are killed up in the Adirondacks, in Maine, andWisconsin, by just such fool actions; so that they're even talking ofmaking every hunter wear either a white or a red suit, so he can't bemistaken for a deer."

  "That's a fact, this dun-colored khaki cloth is mighty near like a deer,and the dead leaves too!" declared Bumpus.

  "It may have been when it was new and _clean_," interjected Davy,bitterly; "but it's anything but brown now. I'd call it a pretty fairshade of dirt color approaching black."

  "P'raps, now, that's why the sportsmen in Old England wear red coatswhen they go into the brush?" suggested Smithy.

  "Oh! that's only the fox hunters, and they carry no firearms, so they'rein no danger," Thad informed him; "their grouse shooters wear just thesame kind of togs our hunters do over here; but they shoot in the open,and so you seldom hear of an accident over across the ocean."

  All this conversation was carried on in low tones, and while the boyswere constantly peeping out from their leafy covert, as though expectingto catch a glimpse of either the mysterious marksman, or else Tom Smithsearching for him beyond.

  But there was not a single sign of either. The trailing Spanish mosscontinued to wave majestically to and fro in the light air; a graysquirrel ran down the trunk of an oak tree close by, to bark saucily, asthough questioning their right in his quiet domain; a bittern flew pastwith winnowing wing, and quickened its flight when discovering thepresence of human beings in that retreat; but there did not seem to bethe first indication that either enemy or friend could be hidden beyondthat other tongue of land.

  Thad had figured it all out in his mind, and fancied that he knew aboutwhat the quickly-formed plan of the alligator hunter might be.

  Of course Tom Smith knew every rod of this place, and he realized thatby taking a certain channel leading back of the point that now screenedthe boys, he could manage to come up behind the place where that riflehad sounded.

  If the marksman had remained in his bushy retreat there was a chance ofhis being surprised; but Thad hardly hoped for any such result; becauseit stood to reason that the hidden man must be keen-witted, and he wouldnaturally suspect some such move on the part of the swamp hunter, whomhe undoubtedly knew.

  The minutes dragged along, with the boys exchanging opinions everylittle while, and then looking around again. They felt under somethingof a strain, because of this singular happening; and many were theconjectures as to who the party could be back of that gun.

  Some were inclined to believe that he might turn out to be a desperateescaped convict who had managed in some fashion to get possession offirearms; and seeing those deceptive khaki su
its of the scouts, at oncejumped to the conclusion that they must belong to the State militia, andwere even then looking for a fellow answering his description.

  Others declared that if this had been the case he would surely have senthis whistling lead lower, and not stopped at simply warning them toclear out. And it was even hinted by Giraffe that the unseen party mightbe the counterfeiter of whom they had heard Tom Smith speak, and whowould naturally believe the Government had sent an expedition after himat last, tired of his persistent efforts to inflate the currency of thecountry at the expense of his fellows.

  "Why, Thad, don't you know, over half an hour's gone already, and not asign of our guide coming back?" observed Bumpus, who had remained quietfor a long stretch of time, for him, because the fat scout dearly lovedto express his opinions on every subject. "I only hope nothing can havehappened to Mr. Smith, because we would be up a tree then. I just knoweven you haven't kept track of how we got here; and if there ain't notrail, however would we get out again?"

  "There you go again, Bumpus," asserted Step Hen, "borrowing trouble. Whydon't you wait till you get to a bridge before you start crossing over?Now, as for me, I'm ready to just take things easy-like, till Tom showsup."

  "There he is now, and beckoning to us to come along!" asserted Old EagleEye, who had kept on the alert all the while, so that he might be thefirst to announce a pleasing discovery.

  When Giraffe had thus announced his discovery, the two canoes wereimmediately put in motion, and the boys hastened to paddle along untilthey arrived alongside the boat of the guide, which was close to thespot where that mysterious shot had sprung from.

  "Reckon you didn't find our friend, Tom?" remarked Giraffe, familiarly.

  The old alligator-skin collector shook his head grimly in the negative.

  "He slipped out all right," he observed, "an' so slick thet I never didgit even a look-in at him. But I found his blank brass shell on theground, whar he tossed the same outen his gun, which I knows real well.It war Ricky, the moonshiner, as guv yuh thet warnin' not tuh botherwith him; an' I reckons as how he means hit, too."