CHAPTER XIX.
THE SWAMP.
Walter's first thought on awakening was for his chum. Charley wastossing restlessly on his blanket, his face and hands flushed and hotwith fever. All of Walter's attempts to rouse him met only withunintelligible words and phrases. The exertion of the previous day inhis weak state, the opening of his wound afresh, and the unhealthyriver water he had drank, had all combined to bring him to a dangerouscondition.
Walter removed the bandages and looked at the wound. It was of anangry red and greatly swollen, and its changed appearance frightenedhim. "Charley," he called, shaking him gently, "don't you know me?"
Reason gleamed for a moment in the sufferer's eyes. "Sure, it's Walt,"he muttered.
"Listen and do try to understand," begged Walter, earnestly. "We aresafe, Charley. The convicts cannot get at us now. We can stay hereand rest up as long as we want to and you can lay quiet and get wellagain. Now, I am going to light a fire and get you some broth andstrong coffee, and, after you have taken them, I am going to heat somewater and give that wound a good cleansing. Do you understand, oldchap?"
"Yes," murmured the sufferer, wearily.
After putting his own blanket under Charley's head for a pillow andmaking the sick lad as comfortable as possible, Walter began hispreparations for breakfast. Selecting a spot where the ground seemedsoft and free from roots, he dug a hole about two feet deep to containhis fire. It required only a few minutes to make one large enough forhis purpose, and his next step was to bring up the provisions andcooking utensils from the canoe.
It was only a short distance to where the little craft lay mooredamongst the mangroves and a few steps carried Walter to the spot, buton the edge of the bank he paused with a cry of surprise and dismay.
The canoe lay bottom side up in the water.
With the strength of despair, Walter succeeded in righting theoverturned craft and pulled it up on shore where he quickly tipped thewater out of it.
One glance at the interior confirmed his worst fears, nothing remainedinside but the paddle, which had been wedged under the seats;provisions, guns, and ammunition were all gone.
Walter sank down on the bank in despair and buried his face in hishands. He understood now, the meaning of the splash he had heardduring the night. A curious alligator had upset the light craft withits nose or a flirt of its powerful tail.
For a long time Walter sat silent and still, pondering on their nowdesperate situation. One fact stood out clear in the mind of thesorely tried and unhappy boy; they must, without delay, leave theisland, which only a few hours before had promised them a safe andcomfortable refuge. Their only chance lay in finding their friendsbefore he became helpless from lack of food. It needed no greatmedical knowledge to tell him that Charley was fast sinking into acritical condition. Without food or proper medicine, the injured ladwas not likely to last long and every moment they tarried on the islandlessened their chances, which were already very slight, of escapingwith their lives.
When he had arrived at this conclusion, Walter arose and made his wayback to his companion, who was lying as he had left him, tossingrestlessly from side to side.
"I'm sorry, Charley, but you'll have to wait a little longer for yourbroth," he said, cheerfully. "I have decided we had better waste nomore time here but hurry on and catch the captain; he has medicinesthat will soon fix you up and make you all right again."
His explanation was wasted so far as Charley was concerned, for thewounded lad was beginning to rave in the delirium of fever. After afew unsuccessful attempts, Walter abandoned the effort to rouse him toconsciousness, and, leaving him as he lay, proceeded to make ready fortheir departure. He cut a pile of small myrtle boughs which he carrieddown to the canoe and spread out upon the bottom and upon these hestretched their blankets, making a soft and comfortable bed for hischum to lie upon. Now came his hardest task, the getting of the sickboy down to, and aboard of, the canoe. Fortunately the hearty meal andrest of the night before had so far restored his strength, that he wasable, by half carrying and half dragging him, to get Charley, at last,upon the bed prepared for him. Then pausing only long enough to gethis breath again, Walter took his old place in the stern and paddledout into the stream, where he headed once more for the south, and withlong, steady strokes sent their little craft flying towards the unknown.
As they slid over the water, leaving the miles rapidly behind them,Walter kept a sharp watch on either bank for signs of the outlaws.That they were still hunting for him and his friends, he felt no doubt,but he cherished faint hopes that he had distanced them during thenight. He consoled himself with the thought that even were theycaptured, death by a bullet would be far quicker and less painful thana slow, lingering death from fever and starvation.
All day the despairing lad paddled ahead, pausing only at noon for abrief space to rest his wearied arms and drink sparingly of the riverwater, which, black and foul as it was, reeked with fever.
Charley, on his bed in the bow, tossed and muttered incessantly. Everyonce in a while, Walter would crawl forward and sprinkle cold water onthe lad's hot face; it was all he could do to relieve the sufferer,whose ravings fell heavily on his anxious heart.
As the afternoon wore away, Walter's strength began to fail; the mentalstrain, steady work, the blistering sun, and lack of food, were fasttelling on him. The temptation to stop and rest and sleep grew almostirresistible, but he bravely fought off the weakness. Their only hopelay in pushing on and on until they found their friends or came outupon civilization. Whither the river led he knew not, but was in hopesthat it might at last bring them out into a settled country. To stopnow meant certain death.
As night settled down, his tired eyes caught the gleam of a fire on theshore not far ahead. A wild hope possessed him that it might prove tobe the captain and his companions, but, warned by his previousexperience, he approached the blaze cautiously.
Slowly he drifted in towards the fire, against which he could soondistinguish moving figures. At last, he approached near enough torecognize the forms against the bright firelight, and hope fled. Itwas another party of the outlaws, four in number, and, the disappointedlad swung the canoe around to the further shore and paddled safely pastwithout being discovered.
The night passed slowly away, and through the long hours the lad in thecanoe urged it steadily forward into the darkness. His tired, achingbrain was now possessed of but one thought, to paddle on, and on, andon. His hands had cramped to the paddle handle, and the strokes werefeeble as a child's, but the blade still rose and fell regularly, andthe canoe still moved slowly ahead.
Daybreak found him in the same position, the paddle still slowlymoving, and his bloodshot, staring eyes still fixed ahead.
The rising sun brought him staggering to his feet, a cry of hope on hislips.
Dead ahead, and more than a mile away, the river disappeared in a greatforest of strange-looking trees. Amongst its shelter might be foundfood and friends, thought Walter, and the hope gave him fresh courageand strength.
Before sinking back into his seat he carefully surveyed the furthershore. His gaze was arrested at a point about a mile behind the canoe.There for about a half mile, the shore lay comparatively clear oftimber, very likely having been swept by fire at some time in the past.It was not the character of the shore, however, that arrested Walter'sattention. His gaze was fixed upon four objects moving swiftly acrossthe open space and headed towards him. It required no great reasoningto tell him that the four figures wore mounted outlaws and that theyhad sighted the canoe. It was to be a race between ponies and canoe,as to which should reach the forest first.
With the strength born of desperation, Walter forced the light canoeahead. Behind him the riders spurred their ponies on at the top oftheir speed. Walter could see, by glancing over his shoulder from timeto time, that the outlaws were steadily gaining, but the canoe wasmoving swiftly, also, and was rapidly drawing near to the strangeforest, and Walter dec
ided with a thrill of joy that the enemy wouldnot arrive in time to cut him off from the shelter of the trees.
The outlaws were not slow to recognize this fact. Their rifles beganto crack and the bullets to whistle around the canoe. Fortunately themotion of their mounts made their aim uncertain, and the bullets didbut little damage, only one touching the canoe, and it passedharmlessly through the side far above the water line. Before thepursuers could draw near enough to make their fire certain, the canoehad passed in amongst the trees and the outlaws reined in their mountsswearing loudly.
As he neared it, Walter had watched the forest with growing amazement.The river seemed to end at its edge, but as he drew closer the reasonfor the anxiety of the outlaws to prevent his entering it was plain.No horse could travel through that dark, gloomy expanse. It was afloating forest. Great cypress and giant bays reared their mightystems from the surface of black scummy water. Amongst their boughsbloomed brilliant orchids and from limb to limb stretched tangledmasses of creeping vines and briers.
The trees with their huge spreading roots grew so closely together thatit was with difficulty that Walter forced the canoe in and out betweenthem. His exultation at his escape from their enemies had given way toa settled despair. From descriptions he had heard, he recognized thismighty floating forest as the fringe which surrounds that greatest ofall mysterious, trackless swamps, the Everglades. Before him lay themighty unknown, unexplored morass, reeking with fever, and infestedwith serpents; behind him waited sure death at the hands of the outlaws.
One faint hope alone remained to him. If his strength held out, hemight in time come upon a camp of the Seminoles, the only human beingsin this unknown land.
Considering the small numbers of the Indians and the vastness of theswamp, it was a faint chance indeed that he or his companion would liveto see any of the tribe, but, faint as it was, no other hope remainedand Walter sent the canoe onward with feeble strokes.
Gradually the trees grew further and further apart until at last thecanoe passed out from their shadows into a lake, surrounded by tallgrowing grass and reeds. Far as the eye could reach stretched thedismal swamp, broken here and there by lakes or creeks and now and thenby an island of higher ground rising from the rotting mud.
Under the heat of the blazing sun there rose around the canoe thickvapors from the scum-covered water and rotting vegetation, bearing intheir foul embrace a sickening, deadly stench.
The paddle strokes grew slower and slower, and gradually ceased,Walter's eyes slowly closed, and he sank down unconscious. His paddlefell from his nerveless hand and floated away on the stagnant waterjust as a dark, shapeless mass crept out of a bunch of reeds and struckthe canoe with a gentle thud.
Boy Chums in the Forest; Or, Hunting for Plume Birds in the Florida Everglades Page 19