Boy Chums in the Forest; Or, Hunting for Plume Birds in the Florida Everglades

by John Henry Goldfrap

  CHAPTER II.

  ON THE WAY.

  It seemed to the boys that they had only just fallen asleep when acrash like that of mighty thunder brought them startled out of the landof dreams. Instinctively both reached for their belts and pistols,which they had placed close to their hands on retiring. There was noneed for their use, however, for the author of the deafening racket wasonly Chris who, with a grin on his face, was beating on a tin-pan closeto their heads.

  "You little imp, I thought it was an earthquake," cried Charley as hehurled a shoe at the little darky, who dodged it nimbly.

  "Just couldn't wake you no other way," grinned Chris. "Time to get up,Massas, daylight dun come."

  The sky in the east was glowing rosy-red, and the boys lost no time inslipping into their outer clothes and strapping on their pistol belts,which completed their attire.

  The captain was already astir, busily engaged in strapping the packs onthe animals, while, early as it was, Chris had breakfast ready.

  "I tell you what it is," declared Charley, while munching his hardtackand bacon, "we'll soon tire of this fare. We must get some fresh meatvery soon."

  "A wild turkey roasted over the coals would go pretty well," suggestedWalter.

  "Deer foah dis nigger," declared Chris, "you-alls just ought to tastede venison steaks when I dun broil 'em."

  "I like bear steaks, sizzling brown," said Charley, thoughtfully.

  "Oh, keep still, you gluttons," laughed the captain. "We ain't likelyto get any of those things unless we stop and have a regular hunt, an'I don't like to take the time for it. Maybe we'll pick up somethin' orother on our way. But now hurry up, boys, it's time we were startin'."

  After taking the precaution to cover their fire with sand, all weresoon in the saddle, and with Charley in the lead, took up the trailjust as the sun rose above the distant tree-tops.

  After half an hour's riding, Charley reined in his pony. "Trail's cometo an end," he announced.

  "Good!" cried Walter, with all of a boy's delight in the unknown, "thatmeans we are getting beyond the range of hunters. Hurrah for the landbeyond."

  The captain produced a small compass and handed it to Charley. "Steerdue west as near as you can," he directed.

  Then followed hours of twisting and winding in and out amongst the bigtrees, now headed one way, now another, but keeping the generalwesterly direction. All hands kept their guns ready, but, althoughthey saw evidences of big game on every hand, the noise of theiradvance must have frightened the wild creatures to their hiding-placeslong before our hunters came in sight.

  As the party advanced the forest grew denser, the trees closertogether. At last, when they began to fear that further progress wouldbe impossible, they burst suddenly into a stretch of open countryextending as far as the eye could see.

  "Isn't it great!" exclaimed Walter; "just look at those pretty littlelakes, you can see one no matter in what direction you look."

  "It is pretty," agreed Charley, "but I am thinking more of dinner thanscenery. I suppose it has got to be bacon and hardtack again. I'm--"but Charley did not finish the sentence. His pony had put its foot ina hole and stumbled, while Charley, taken unawares, pitched over theanimal's head and landed on all fours in a little heap of sand besidethe hole that had caused the mischief. To the surprise of hiscompanions, he did not rise, but remained in the position in which hehad fallen, staring at the hole.

  "Are you hurt, Charley?" cried the captain, anxiously.

  "Not a bit," grinned Charley as he regained a sitting position on thesand-heap. "I'm just holding down our dinner," he added calmly. "Getoff, gents, and help me finish the job."

  "Now, Chris," he directed, when they had dismounted, "do you see thattall slender sapling over there? It's just the thing I want. Pleasetake the axe and get it for me, and don't cut off all the limbs."

  Chris obeyed with alacrity, for experience had taught him that Charleynever made useless demands. In a few minutes he was back dragging thesapling after him.

  With a few strokes of the axe, Charley lopped off all the branches saveone close to the small end of the trunk. This one he cut off so as toleave a projecting stub of about four inches, thus making of the end ofhis sapling a sort of rude harpoon.

  His companions looked on with curiosity, but asked no questions, forthey knew their chum delighted in surprises.

  The pole finished, Charley poked the barbed end down into the hole.Down, down it went, fifteen, twenty feet, then struck with a dull thud.He began twisting the sapling over and over, then drew it slowly andgently up, but the end came into view with nothing adhering to it.Again and again was the fruitless operation repeated, and a look ofdisappointment had begun to settle on Charley's face when at last hisharpoon came into view with a dark mass clinging to it.

  "A turtle," exclaimed Walter in delight.

  "No, a gopher, but I'll admit it is a kind of land turtle, although itfeeds entirely on grass and never goes near the water," explainedCharley, proud of his capture. "Chris, ride on to that first littlelake yonder and get a fire started. We'll be there in a few minutes."

  Charley fastened a buckskin thong to one of the gopher's flippers andhung it from his saddle-horn, then all remounted and turned theirponies toward the place where Chris had disappeared among the treesfringing the lake.

  They had covered part of the distance when there came a yell and Chris'pony broke from the trees and bore down upon them at a run. The littledarky was clinging to its back, his face ashen and his eyes bulgingwith terror.

  "Go back, Massas," he shouted, "hit's a lake of blood, hit's a lake ofblood!"

  Walter grabbed the flying pony's rein and brought the animal to a halt."Nonsense," he said, roughly, "you're crazy, Chris. Come on all, let'ssee what's scared him so." He spurred forward followed by the othersand still retaining his hold upon the bridle of Chris' pony, in spiteof the little darky's chattering, "Let me go, Massa Walt. Please letme go."

  In a few moments the little party entered the fringe of timber andreined in their horses on the shore of the tiny lake. For a momentthey sat speechless in their saddles, and truly there was in the sightexcuse for Chris' chattering teeth. The little wavelets which broke attheir feet were the color of blood, while the lake itself lay like agiant ruby in its setting of green; glistening and sparkling in thesun's bright rays.

  Charley dismounted from his horse and from his saddle-bags produced asmall medicine glass, which he filled with the liquid and held up tothe light. The fluid sparkled clear as crystal and of a beautifulcrimson hue.

  "It beats me," he announced, "I thought it might be the bottom gave itthat color, but whatever it is, it is in the water itself."

  Walter wheeled his horse and studied the encircling trees carefully."I've got it," he announced, "do you notice all these trees are of onekind?"

  "You're right," Charley exclaimed, "they are all red bays. It's theirroots that color the water."

  The boys turned to chaff Chris, but he had slipped away at the firstwords of the explanation. Soon he reappeared with an armful of drywood. His face was still ashen, but his teeth had stopped chattering.

  "Golly," he exclaimed, pompously, "reckon dis nigger had you-alls scartdis time. Dis nigger shore had de joke on you dis time."

  The boys glanced at each other and grinned. "I wouldn't try it again,Chris," Charley chuckled; "you might throw a fit next time, you act soreal."

  While Chris was making a fire and preparing a bed of coals, Charleycleaned the gopher.

  This animal is very much like a turtle, but the tissue which unites theupper and lower shells is so hardened as to be impervious to a knife.Charley solved the problem by wedging it in the fork of a fallen tree,and after two or three attempts he succeeded in separating the shellswith an axe.

  "Let me finish hit, Massa Charley," pleaded Chris; "dis nigger knowsjust how to fix him now you got him open."

  Charley was nothing loath to turn over the disagreeable task ofcleani
ng to the little darky, who swiftly completed it. He removed themeat from the shell, skinned the edible portions, and threw the offalfar from the fire. Next he washed both meat and shells carefully,salted and peppered the meat, and replaced it in the shell, laying ontop of it a few thin slices of pork. Then, he bound both shellstightly together with wisps of green palmetto leaves. Lastly, hewrapped another green leaf around the shell and buried it in the bed ofglowing coals now ready.

  "That's a new idea," grinned Walter, "making your game supply its owncooking-pot. My! but it smells good, though."

  In a very short time, Chris pronounced the gopher done and it waslifted from the coals and the shells cut apart revealing the steaming,juicy meat within.

  Our hungry party pronounced the meat far sweeter and more tender thanchicken, and the empty shells soon bore evidence to their sincerity.

  After a brief rest, they mounted and again took up the trail, soonleaving behind their halting-place, which the boys named LakeChristopher, much to the vain little darky's chagrin. He had a shrewdsuspicion that he would not hear the last of his fright for many a day.