CHAPTER III
FOOLING A RESCUE PARTY
Roger speedily found that Field's remark to the effect that the"snipe-shoot" had better take place before the actual work started wasreally a merciful suggestion, for three or four days later, when theswamp survey was in progress, the boy found himself at night so tiredthat he would not have budged from the camp for anything smaller than atiger. He was no mean athlete and had been accustomed to considerhimself in good training, but after a day in the marsh the muscles ofhis back felt as though he had been lying on a corduroy road andallowing a full-sized steam roller to run over him.
The work itself was not so hard to understand or to follow, but thedifficulties of the nature of the ground made it appear to him almostinsurmountable. Arising early in the morning, about half-past fiveo'clock, he found himself fully ready for breakfast, which was duly overby half-past six, when the work of making up the packs began. Each manin the party was supposed to carry a pack, all the properties of thecamp being divided up into equal weights. The making up of these was asource of no small anxiety, as the division of weight made a lot ofdifference in the day's march. The load was so divided that it wouldrest upon the back, just below the neck, and to keep it in place a broadstrap, called a "tump-strap" was passed across the forehead. If thestrap was a little long, or the load adjusted so that it hung too fardown, the effect was to jerk the neck back until it seemed that it wouldsnap off, while if the load was too high up on the neck, in order todistribute the weight evenly the bearer would have to bend so farforward that he would be walking almost double.
IN THE TAMARACK SWAMP.
Morning start from small dry spot where camp was made. Chief of party incenter, holding axe.
_Photograph by U.S.G.S._]
Sometimes, though not often, the party was able to proceed straightawaywithout any ax-work, but more often all hands had to set to work,clearing away underbrush and second growth so that a clear distancemight be secured for making a sight. At first it would seem that a swampperforce must be level, and in such a case drainage would be extremelycomplex and difficult, but in the Chippewa swamps there is a heavy falltoward the Red Lake River, this fall, however, being interrupted bynumerous small hog-backs and elevated stretches of ground which mightalmost be called islands.
"But, Mr. Field," said Roger to his chief, when this was explained tohim, "if a drainage ditch were cut direct from the highest point of themarsh to the Red Lake River, would not all the water naturally flow intoit, and so drain the swamp without all this elaborate surveying?"
"And how would you find the highest point or points of the marsh," saidthe other, smiling, "without a survey? You see, son, this swamp is likea continent on a small scale. It has its mountains and its valleys, itsplateaus and its ravines, though these be measured in inches instead ofhundreds of feet. Now, if this ground were rocky, all this drainagewould make for itself a network of small streams and flow down to theriver, but as the ground is naturally spongy the water has lain insteadof running, and therefore has not cut any channels. Add to this thehundreds of thousands of years' deposit of rotting vegetation, and yousee how impossible it is for the water to do what would naturally beexpected, that is, find its own level."
"But it must flow down some time, surely," said the boy.
"The overplus does. In spring, that is to say in early spring, rightafter the snow melts, this whole swamp is a sheet of water, even worsethan it is now, and the houses on the higher grounds are on islands, thefarmers going to and from them with boats, but that soon runs off untilit reaches the level of complete saturation, in other words, a bog aswet as it can hold. Now, what we have to do, is to trace this highestpoint or points, such as you spoke of, or, to speak more correctly, thesuccession of the lines of highest points, a very crooked series oflines, and find out their relation each to the other. This you see, willdivide up the swamp into several drainage areas. Then each of theseareas is to be surveyed to determine the line of drainage, the whole tobe conformed to the main ditches that will flow to the river, and thisintricate network of ditches must be kept at just the exact level offall, so that it will flow unencumbered to the streams on either side ofthe swamp."
Roger whistled softly.
"That's why you've got to go over every foot of the country socarefully," he said.
"Of course. If it wasn't for the trees and brush, which prevent usseeing just where every little rise is, it would be comparatively easy,but unless we know the lie of the ground, we might plan a ditch just onthe wrong side of a ridge of comparatively solid earth, which woulddivert the entire stream. Of course, there's a pretty good fall to theriver, both the Mud River and the Red Lake River, but even so, anunobserved ridge of earth a few feet high, running along for a couple ofmiles would throw out the value of that particular ditch and create thecause for a new drainage area."
"I see," said the boy, "and I'm very glad you told me, Mr. Field,because it did look to me as though a lot of this exactness wasunnecessary."
"We do nothing unnecessary on the Survey," came the prompt response. "Noman knows better than we how much work there is yet to be done."
As the days went on Roger found himself becoming quite apt at the packwork, and, to his great delight, found his muscles hardening under theexercise so that the strain was not so great. Several times too, andthis gave him great joy, the chief would send him out off the line ofmarch, not more than fifty yards, with instructions to report on thenature of the ground. When about that distance, well within earshot, hewas supposed to "Coo-ee" in order to find his way back to the party.
It chanced one afternoon, right after the short stop in the middle ofthe day, that Field sent Roger off, to the right of the party, in quitedense timber, and told him not to go further than twenty-five yardsaway. For twenty or thirty feet the boy hacked manfully through theunderbrush, and then, to his delight, came across a smooth piece ofmarsh overlaid with water. Testing carefully every step he took, the ladfound the bottom of it less like a morass than was the general characterof the swamp, and he knew enough to realize that there must be firmground on the other side. Knowing, moreover, that a piece of informationsuch as this would be of great assistance he ventured to cross thestretch, and as he surmised, found a small hog-back on the further shoreof the shallow lake. This ran parallel, so far as he could judge, withthe route being taken by the members of the party, and Roger conceivedthe idea of following along this line, until it would be time for him torejoin his friends. The wood was thick on the ridge, however, and Rogerfound that he was not making good time, so after going half a mile orso, he decided to strike across and meet the rest of the party.
When Roger turned, however, he found that he had ceased to be oppositethe slough, and he plunged into a dense and palpitating quagmire, thekind against which he had been specifically warned, fairly firm on thesurface, but which quivered like a jelly as far as he could see when hestepped upon it. None the less, it was the only way the boy knew torejoin his comrades, so with considerable trepidation he stepped uponthe edge. It held him, though with a sort of "give" that was mostunpleasant. Another step he took, and this time the quag seemed toresent his intrusion; large black bubbles formed slowly and broke a fewinches before his foot and the ground seemed to heave in front of him.The boy realized that he could go no further, but for daring andcuriosity he took another step gingerly to see what would happen.
He learned! As the foot touched the ground it sank even with the littleweight that he threw on it, almost to the depth of an inch, and withthat slight pressure suddenly the suction of the marsh gripped him asthough some foul fiend had him by the heel, and he threw all his weightback on his left foot in an endeavor to pull out the right. But thisdisturbed the balance of his poise, and the sudden weight on the onefoot caused it to break through and the marsh had him by both feet. Thepressure was so fearful that Roger knew shouting was useless, he wouldbe deep under the quagmire before his comrades could even begin to findhim.
But Field had
not instructed Roger for nothing, and the lad was quick ofthought. Instantly he threw his surveyor's rod down so that one end wason the comparatively dry ground whence he had stepped, the other by hisfeet, and with one supreme effort he threw himself flat upon the rod,though wrenching his ankle cruelly as he did so. This distribution ofhis weight over so much larger a plane surface prevented his furthersinking, but the suction was still so great that he could not draw outhis feet. Finally, by exerting all his strength he freed the one thatwas furthest out, and which had sunk but little, but he was held aprisoner by the other foot. Then an idea occurred to him. Taking his ax,he chopped the ground around his leg, and had the satisfaction ofseeing water bubble up in its place. Little by little he loosened thesuction of the bog until at last he was able to pull out his foot andcrawl along the rod to the bank, where, trembling and exhausted, andsuffering considerable pain from his wrenched ankle, he sat upon aprojecting root to recover his breath and his somewhat shaken nerve.
This was Roger's first experience of the folly of attempting more thanhe had been told to do, before he was an old enough hand at the game toknow the greatness of the risk. As soon as he had in part recoveredhimself, he shouted, according to agreement, expecting to hearimmediately the return hail, which would tell him exactly where theparty might be. But there was no answering cry! A little startled at thethought that he might have wandered out of hearing of the party, Rogerwaited a moment, then, making a megaphone of his hands, let out astentorian howl, for all that he was worth. But the cry fell stifled inthe dense branches and a muffled echo was the only response. Thinkingthat perhaps a whistle would sound further, he put his fingers in hismouth and whistled long and shrill, a note loud enough, it seemed tohim, to be heard for miles; but for all the token of human answer, itmight have been the crying of the curlew above the marsh.
By this time Roger was fully alive to the difficulties that confrontedhim. If he were out of reach of the party, and could not make himselfheard, it would be very difficult to trace them, even if he crossedtheir trail; unless it were where they had been making a sight or whereundergrowth had been cut, there would be no mark of their passage, asthe soft ground speedily sucked in all trace of footsteps. A shot, hethought, would travel farther than the voice, and so, taking out hisrevolver, the boy fired three times in the air. He strained his earseagerly, though fearing that no shot would answer, but when the minutespassed by he knew that he was lost and that he would have to find hisway back to the party unaided.
But one thing remained to be done. He must retrace his steps, trustingto his new-born knowledge of woodsmanship to lead him aright, back tothe place where he had gained the ridge of ground from the shallow lake,then cross that, if he could remember the direction, and he would be buttwenty yards or so from the path the party must have traveled. He wouldbe a couple of hours behind them, of course, but if he could striketheir trail he was bound to overtake them some time that night. Therewas no other alternative, he must endeavor to find them, even at therisk of becoming still more enmeshed in the mazes of the swamp.
Limping back over the ridge of ground, his ankle growing sorer eachstep, Roger painfully wended his way to the little lake. He found theridge, but in returning it appeared to divide into twain paths, and fora moment his heart sank within him; as luck would have it, however, heremembered seeing a tree that had been struck by lightning somewhereabout where he then was, and he determined to go along each of the pathsuntil he struck the tree. Taking the left hand, at random, he hobbledalong for half an hour, but seeing no blighted tree, retraced his wayand took the other path. Just as he was about to give up that routealso, in despair, the sentinel tree on which he had been building loomedup before him. It was the first sure sign that he was on the righttrail, and Roger let out a boyish whoop of delight. Suddenly he thoughthe heard an answering yell, and he called again, but there being noanswer he felt that his ears had deceived him. Soon he came to thebanks of the little shallow lake, and struck in to wade across.
A TANGLE OF SWAMP.
Conditions which must be overcome by topographic parties, though "toowet for walking, too dense for boats."
_Photograph by U.S.G.S._]
It then became evident to the boy that he had entered the lake at adifferent point, for while it had been a little over his knees at thedeepest part before, now it came to his thighs and was steadilydeepening. In the middle the water was almost to his waist and the boybegan to be alarmed concerning the contents of his pack, which he hadstuck to throughout despite the pain in his foot. But while the watercame to within six inches of the pack at one place, the bottom remainedfairly hard, and presently it shallowed rapidly and Roger stood upon thefarther shore.
This time, however, the luck which seemed to have deserted him so long,returned, for he found himself, in the course of a few steps, just atthe place where the brushwood had been cut recently for the making of asight, and the boy knew that he could not now be very far from the restof the party. He followed the blazed trail as rapidly as his somewhatcrippled condition would permit, shouting occasionally as he did so,when suddenly he heard voices. Stopping to make sure, and hearing speechquite distinctly, he hurried on, coming at last to a dense dark piece ofthe wood through which a path had been hewn with some difficulty.Another two minutes, he was assured, would bring him among his comrades,when he heard the voices again, and what they said made him pause.
"It's a good one on the boy," said one of the voices.
Roger knew that he was always spoken of in camp as "the boy," and hethought if they were planning some practical joke on him, like the"snipe shoot," over which they had never ceased to tease him, therecould be nothing wrong in listening so that he could checkmate it.
"He must be quite near us, now," replied the other.
"Almost as near," said the first speaker, "as he was when he firstthought that he was lost. That was an awful howl he gave, the second onewe heard. It would make a fair sample for an Atlantic liner's foghorn."
Both men laughed, and the rich, easy voice of the chief of the partybroke in.
"I'm not sorry the boy got a scare," he said; "he's all right, is theboy, but he thinks he knows it all. They all do, at first. I told himnot to go thirty yards away, and one way and another he must have gonea mile. It's a good thing he paralleled us, or somebody would have hadto go after him."
"I thought sure he'd find us right away when David called back," saidthe first speaker.
"Yes," replied Field, "I thought so, too. But he didn't, you see. Nowlet him learn how hard it is to find a party in these swamps and he'llknow better next time. You've got the location of his last call, haven'tyou?"
"Sure!" said one of the men.
"Oh-ho!" thought Roger to himself. "So that's the reason I got no answerto my shouting and my shots. They're just waiting until I get in to guyme some more." He sat down on a root and thought for a few minutes. Thenhe grinned, and decided to bear the pain in his ankle a few momentslonger. Striking off sharply from the trail that had been cut, he wormedhis way up and on until he was almost opposite the party, and directlyto the left; then, holding a bunch of grass over his mouth to give themuffled sound as of great distance, he gave a howl, putting into it asmuch anguish as he could manage.
As he expected he heard the sounds of work cease.
"The young idiot's wandered off the trail again," he heard David say tothe chief.
"Well, get the direction," was the answer, with a tinge of annoyancethis time, "and you two had better go after him. I made sure from hislast hail that he was right by the camp."
Roger waggishly nodded his head in the direction of the speaker.
"I don't envy those two men their job," he said in an undertone, and,doubling on his tracks, he came back to the trail that had been blazed.Then circling round to the right, so as to be in the opposite directionfrom that which his searchers had taken, he quietly made his way pastthe working force and came to the spot where the cook was just makingpreparations for dinner. Unobserve
d, he crept quite close to the camp,and finding a convenient spruce with widely spreading branches, heclimbed up some fifteen feet, where was a natural hammock in the boughs,and lay down, taking off the boot from his swollen foot and awaited whatshould come.
He had not long to wait. In less than half an hour the two men returnedstating that they had found some signs of ax-work in the vicinity of thelast hail, but that they had called and called and received no reply.The men spoke gravely and one of them said:
"I hope the youngster has not struck a quag!"
The leader gave an impatient exclamation.
"Well," he said, "it's our own fault if we have any trouble finding him,but he has been within a hundred yards of the camp all this time that hehas been making such a fuss, and how he could be such an ass as to crossour trail and get on the other side of it without noticing, gets me."
Roger chuckled.
"You'll find it harder hunting for me than I did for you," he said tohimself, "and perhaps the laugh won't be all on the one side."
He settled himself more comfortably in the tree and listened to Fieldgiving instructions to the members of the party how they should separateand circle at an appointed distance, calling every few minutes as theydid so.
In less than a quarter of an hour the camp was vacant except for thecook, who was still busy preparing the evening meal. That was the onlypart that was hard to Roger, for he had been through a good deal ofexcitement since lunch and not only was tired, but also very hungry. Hisfoot was not hurting so much now that he was not stepping on it andwith his boot off, although it had puffed up rapidly after the removalof the boot. But to be up in the branches of a tree, as hungry as awolf, and to see the grub below, was almost more than boy nature couldstand.
Presently the cook, having laid out a loaf of bread and a knuckle ofham, picked up his ax and went into the brush to get a little more drywood, which was somewhat scarce about the camp. Roger slipped down fromthe tree and seized the bread and ham. Then in order that it might notbe suspected who had done it, he scrabbled on the tin plate with somemud, and in the stiffer soil about--for that was the reason it had beenchosen for a camp,--he made some tracks with the first, second, andthird knuckles of his hand and the mark of his thumb knuckle behind. Ata little distance the track looked almost like fox tracks. By steppingcarefully on tufts of grass he kept the marks of his own feet from beingseen, and then, with his booty, he returned to the tree.
He was hardly more than safely ensconced among the branches when thecook returned. He busied himself about the fire with the wood that hehad brought, then chancing to look at the dish, he saw that the hamboneand the bread had gone. The cook, whose language was that of awoodsman, consigned all four-footed thieves to perdition, and then bentdown to examine the tracks. He looked at them carefully several timesover, then:
"I sure would like to see that beast critter," he said, "fer that's themost plumb foolish tracks I ever set eyes on. It must be fox--but thereain't no foxes in this kind o' country, and, anyhow, the tracks don'tmate."
This was true, for Roger had made the tracks, both on the nigh and theoff sides with the fingers of his right hand. The cook, after mutteringand grumbling to himself, got out from his store of provisions enoughfor the meal, and proceeded to cook the same, not without many returnsto the mysterious tracks and comments more or less audible on creatureswith feet like that who were so apt at thieving.
Presently two of the party came in, shaking their heads negatively tothe cook's questioning gesture.
"Nary a sign," said one of the men, "he's lost a good and plenty."
"I ain't got much time to help," said the cook, "though I'll go out withyou after supper. But this spot has got me locoed."
"How's that?" asked one.
The cook pointed to the tracks.
"I used to think I knew quite some about the swamps," he said, "I wasborn with an ax in my hand, pretty near, but I never yet saw any critterwith tracks like them. An' what's more, I ain't never been informed thatham sandwiches form a reg'lar part of a fox's menoo!"
One of the men bent to examine the tracks, but the other said airily:
"I'm no Seton-Thompson on the tracks question. Wait till David comes,he's a regular nature-faker for you. Leave him alone and he'll tell atale of seeing a fox do the honors at a ten-course dinner with squirrelspopping the champagne corks."
The cook laughed, but awaited the verdict of his comrade, who, after aprolonged examination, straightened himself, and remarked soberly:
"That's got me! You say the hambone and the bread were clean gone?"
"Clean as a whistle! There was a lot of mud on the dish, and that wasall."
"Put it up to David, or Field. Field will tell us all he knows, andwhat's more, will explain why he doesn't know the rest; but David willput up the best yarn."
A few minutes later the rest of the party dropped in and in turnexpressed surprise and conjecture about the confusing marks upon theground until all were back except David and the chief, and shortly Davidappeared.
"Where's Field?" one of the men asked.
"He stayed behind a minute or two for something. He said he'd be rightalong. No," he continued, in answer to a question, "we didn't seeanything of the boy."
"Well, it's a good thing you're here, anyway," said the cook, "for we'vebeen waiting for you to explain a mystery that's puzzled the whole camp.You're a woodsman, you know, and it's up to you to tell us."
"All right," said David with a confident swagger. "Trot out yourmystery."
The cook led him to where the tracks were visible in the soil andrelated to him the theft of the hambone and the bread, concluding with:
"And what we want to know is--what kind of a critter made them tracks?"
David stooped down for a few seconds and looked at the marks on theground, then turned around to the fellows grouped about him, and saidin a tone of scorn:
"You don't know what that is?"
"No, what is it?" responded one of the men.
"Well, you're a pretty lot of lumberjacks not to know a swamp angel'swork when you see one."
"Swamp angel?" queried the cook in amazement.
"Swamp angel, of course. Yes, why not? I suppose"--this in a tone ofmuch condescension--"you have heard of a swamp angel?"
The cook grinned at him.
"You're a good one, David, all right," he said. "Go on, tell us about aswamp angel."
"Why, a swamp angel," said David, thinking rapidly, "is a cross betweena flying squirrel and a flying fox----"
"With a strain of flying-fish thrown in. Go on, David," interrupted oneof the men with a laugh.
"It lives only in the densest kind of swamps," went on David, ignoringthe interruption, "and it is called an angel because it can fly soreadily. Its chief characteristic is that it crosses its legs whilewalking, so that the off fore and hind leg track on the nigh side andthe near ones on the off. That's what gives the tracks that peculiarlook you noticed. Its usual food----"
"Is ham sandwiches," broke in the cook. "No, David, I guess the swampangel yarn's a little strong. Here comes the chief; we'll see what hesays about it."
As soon as Field arrived near the group of men, the cook started in totell him about the theft of the food, but the chief stopped him.
"To Texas with the hambone," he said; "we've got no time to wastetalking about trifles. It's up to us to find that boy without delay. Ihold myself to blame in not getting after him sooner, but his last hail,it seemed to me, just before the one I sent you to find him on, was onlya few yards from the camp. How, in so short a time, he could have gotout of earshot, is a thing I don't understand. I only hope he hasn't puta bullet into himself somewhere with that pesky little gun of his whilehe was firing all those shots. Get busy at the grub, boys, because if wedon't get him by the time it's dark, he may be out all night, and Idon't want that."
"He can't be very far away, Mr. Field," said David.
"As long as he's out of reach, it doesn't much matter wh
ether he's nearor far. But he must be found, if it takes all night."
All through the supper the men discussed plans for the finding of theboy, but when Roger heard Field tell two of the men to start out and notreturn until midnight if they hadn't found the lad before then, hethought it was time to bring the jest to an end. He parted the branchesover the chief's head and looked down.
Then, suddenly, the men gathered around the fire heard Roger's voice,saying in a smooth and sarcastic manner:
"I was never called an angel before, not even a swamp angel, though I'mpretty well up toward heaven in this tree. But this hambone is very dryeating, and I guess I'll come down for the butter and the mustard."
"You blithering idiot!" said Field, looking up angrily, though there wasevidently a great relief in his voice, "get down out of that."
"Oh, very well!" said Roger with a grin, as he descended the branches ofthe tree. Then, coming into the circle, he added, "I thought I'd comedown and help you eat that snipe that Mr. Field has just brought in!"
Boy With the U. S. Survey Page 5