CHAPTER V.
THE 'GATOR HUNTERS.
The captain was laboriously spelling out the scare-head articles by theflickering firelight.
"Desperadoes at large."
"Last night twelve convicts, all of them life prisoners, escaped fromE. B. Richardson's turpentine camp near Turnbull. The escape waseffected by their overpowering the guards while their supper was beingserved them. One guard was killed and the balance were gagged and tiedup to posts in the barracks. The revolters stripped their prisoners ofarms, ammunition and what money they had. Next they broke into thecommissary, taking a large amount of clothing and provisions andwantonly destroying the rest. They then made their escape on horsesbelonging to the guards. As soon as their absence was discovered,bloodhounds were put upon the trail which led towards the interior.The dogs were soon completely baffled, however, for the fugitives hadevidently taken to water whenever they came near a pond or creek. Thisruse, as well as the whole uprising, is believed to have been theheadwork of 'Indian Charley,' one of the escaped prisoners, who, itwill be remembered, was drummed out of his tribe and sentenced by thecourts for the murder of a white settler last spring. Small outlyingsettlements will rejoice when this body of hardened desperate men areonce more in the grasp of the law."
"I've got it!" exclaimed Charley, so suddenly that the captain lookedup in mild surprise.
"Got what?" he inquired.
"A pretty bad attack of sleepiness," Charley said with assumedlightness. "I feel all done up to-night. Guess I'll turn in."
But although he was first to turn in, it was along in the wee smallhours of morning before slumber crept in on his tired brain.
He was awakened by Walter shaking him vigorously.
"Get up, you lazy rascal, get up. The sun is half an hour high, andbreakfast is ready. Get up and gaze upon the beautiful St. Johns."
"What does it look like?" inquired Charley, sleepily, as he buckled onhis heavy leggins and strapped on his pistol belt.
"For a dismal, wretched, man-forsaken stretch of country it beatsanything I ever saw," Walter exclaimed in disgust. "The river itselfis about a half mile wide, but it twists, turns, and forks every fewyards so as to puzzle a corporation lawyer. The shores for half a mileback from the water are nothing but boggy marsh, with here and there awooded island. Ugh, the sight of it is enough to make a man homesick."
"Not giving out already, Walt," Charley said, cheerfully, as he madehis way through the boggy marsh to the water to wash, followed by hischum.
"Not much," said Walter grimly, "I for one am not going backempty-handed after coming so far. But I'm beginning to realize thatthis is not going to be all a pleasure trip. You noticed the articlethat the captain read last evening about the convicts escaping. Can itbe they are the party you saw signs of?"
"I believe they are," agreed his chum as they turned back towards thecamp where the captain and Chris were patiently waiting breakfast. "Imay be wrong, but I thought it all over last night and I decided it wasonly fair to tell the others what I suspect."
"The captain will want us all to pack right back home," said Walter,glumly.
His fears proved true, for when Charley related his suspicions over thefrugal breakfast, the captain was visibly worried.
"I'm the cause of leading you into trouble again, boys," he reproachedhimself. "However, I reckon thar ain't nothing to be gained byregrets. As soon as we have finished eating, we'll pack up and headback for the coast."
But Charley opposed the plan of returning decidedly. "They have hadplenty of chance to kill us off easily on the way here if they hadwanted to," he argued. "Why they haven't done so puzzles me. Perhapsthey fear a searching party would be sent after us if we do not returnpromptly. I have a feeling, though, that they are after bigger game,although I have not the slightest idea what it can be. Anyway, I amnot going back, now, empty-handed, if there were twice as manyjail-birds at my heels."
"I am with you, Charley," Walter said quickly.
"Me too, Massa," grinned Chris, who was plucky enough when heunderstood the nature of the threatened danger. "Golly, I jest reckondis nigger got to stay and look out for you chillens."
The captain, whose only concern had been for the boys, brought his handdown on his knee earnestly. "Then I'm with you, lads, till the lastmast carries away. You're the pilot in these waters, Charley. Whatcourse shall we steer now, lad?"
"I think," suggested Charley, modestly, "that the first thing is to fixup a shelter in case of rain. We must be careful, and if we come intocontact with any of those fellows we must not let them see that wesuspect what they are. That would cause trouble right away, I am sure."
"Go ahead and give your orders, lad; we will carry them out."
"Then I'll deputize Chris to see if he can't get us some fresh fish,"said Charley with a smile.
Chris, his face beaming, darted away to his saddlebags after hisfishing-tackle. If there was one thing the little darky liked aboveall others it was fishing, and wherever he might be, his tackle wasnever far away.
As soon as he had departed, Charley, accompanied by the others, setabout selecting a site for their permanent camp.
"You see," Charley explained, "we want a place that we can stand a showof defending if we should be attacked, and at the same time a placefrom which we can escape by water if we have to."
They did not have to go far before they found the very place they werehunting for, a long, narrow, scantily grassed point that penetratedthrough the marsh far out into the river.
"It's just the thing," Charley declared. "We will lead the ponies outto the end and then fell a few pines across the neck here. That willform a kind of a fence and keep them from straying away. There's grassenough on the point to keep them busy for a week at least."
Within half an hour the three eager workers had felled enough pinesacross the neck of the point to form a kind of rude stockade. Thenthey moved out to the end of the point and began the erection of theirshelter. It was quite primitive and simple. Two saplings about twelvefeet apart were selected as the uprights, and to them, about eight feetfrom the ground, two poles were lashed securely with buckskin thongs,the other ends of the pole being imbedded in the ground. Other smallersaplings were trimmed and laid across the slanting poles, and on themwere piled layer after layer of fan-like palmetto leaves. In a shortspace of time they had completed a lean-to which would protect themfrom any storm they were likely to experience at this season of theyear.
"Have you noticed that, Charley?" inquired Walter, as they placed thelast leaves on the lean-to. He pointed to a point, similar to theirown, scarce two thousand yards away, from which rose a thick column ofsmoke.
"Yes, I've been watching it for some time," Charley said. "I guessit's our friends, the convicts. They are late risers. Somehow orother, Walt, I've got what prospectors call a 'hunch' that they are notafter us and will not bother us as long as they think we are ignorantof their true character."
"I'll never trouble trouble 'till trouble troubles me," hummed Walter,cheerfully.
"A good motto," said his chum gravely, "but nevertheless it's betterstill to be ready for trouble if it does come. Now we must provide ameans of retreat. Come, let's open packs one and two, we'll need theircontents soon anyway."
Packs one and two, when opened, revealed bundles of numbered pieces oftough, thin flexible steel and packages of thick water-proofed canvas.Under the captain's skilled direction, the steel was quickly framedtogether, the canvas stretched over it, and in a short time two canvascanoes were floating lightly at their painters at the end of the point.
All had been too engrossed in their labors to note the passage of timeuntil the captain snapped open his old-fashioned silver watch.
"One o'clock," he exclaimed in surprise.
Charley and Walter looked at each other apprehensively. "What can bekeeping Chris?" Walter cried.
"Maybe he is having good luck and hates to quit," suggested Charley."Le
t's give him a while longer."
But two o'clock came and no Chris appeared.
"Get your guns, boys," commanded the captain. "We must go hunt him.Something's the matter."
Boy Chums in the Forest; Or, Hunting for Plume Birds in the Florida Everglades Page 5