CHAPTER XI
THE TRAIL IN THE SWAMP
When the eight scouts found that they were leaving solid ground, andactually getting to where little bogs surrounded them on almost everyside, they had a queer feeling. Up to now none of them had ever had muchexperience in passing through a real swamp, because there were no suchplaces nearer to Beverly than this one, and eighteen miles is quite toofar for boys to walk on ordinary occasions, when seeking fun.
They looked around time and again, though none of them dared loiter, andPaul, as the leader, was setting a pretty good pace.
Just behind Paul came Seth. The scoutmaster had asked him to keep closeat his heels, for since Seth had acquired more or less of a fund ofswamp lore from the man who trapped muskrats for their pelts, in thefall and winter, if any knotty problems came up to be solved the chanceswere Seth would be of more use than any one of the other fellows.
Evidently they were in for some new and perhaps novel experiences. Andthere is nothing that pleases the average boy more than to look uponunfamiliar scenes, unless it is to run up against a bit of an adventure.
One thing Paul had made sure to fetch along with him when taking thisbig hike, and that was his little camp hatchet. Fritz had begged to beallowed to carry his old Marlin shotgun, under the plea that they mightrun across some ferocious animal like a wildcat, or a skunk, and wouldfind a good use for the reliable firearm; but the scoutmaster had sethis foot down firmly there.
But they would have to make numerous fires while on the way, and alittle hatchet was apt to come in very handy.
And the feel of it in his belt had given Paul his idea about "blazing"the trees just as soon as they no longer had the trapper's path to servethem as a guide against their return.
It is a very easy thing to make a trail in this way; only care mustalways be taken to make the slices, showing the white wood underneaththe bark, on that side of the tree most likely to be seen by thereturning pilgrim. Great loss of time must result if one always had togo behind every tree in order to find the blaze that had been socarefully given, not to mention the chances of becoming confused, andeventually completely turned around.
That path twisted and turned in the most amazing and perplexing mannerpossible.
Although Paul had purposely warned the boys to try and keep tabs of thepoints of the compass as they passed along, in less than ten minutesafter striking the swamp proper it is doubtful whether one of them couldhave told correctly just where the north lay, if asked suddenly; thoughby figuring it out, looking at the sun, and all that, they might havereplied with a certain amount of accuracy after a while.
But then they felt sure Paul knew; and somehow or other they had alwaysbeen in the habit of relying on the scoutmaster to do some of theirthinking for them--a bad habit it is, too, for any boys to letthemselves fall into, and one that Paul often took them to task for.They would cheerfully admit the folly of such a course, and promise toreform, yet on the next occasion it would be the same old story ofdepending on Paul.
"Path seems to be petering out a heap, Paul," remarked Seth, whenanother little time had crept along, and they had penetrated stilldeeper into the swamp, with a very desolate scene all around them, watersurrounding many of the trees that grew there with swollen boles, suchas always seems to be the case where they exist in swampy regions.
"Yes, I was thinking that myself," replied the other; "and it's abouttime for me to begin using my little hatchet, even if I don't happen tobe George Washington."
"Let's stop for a breath, and listen," suggested Eben; "who knows nowbut what we might be nearer where the balloon dropped than we thought.P'raps we could even get an answer if we whooped her up a bit."
"How about that, Paul?" demanded Fritz, who could shout louder perhapsthan any other boy in Beverly, and often led the hosts as a cheercaptain, when exciting games were on with other school teams.
"Not a bad idea, I should say," was the reply, as the patrol leadernodded his head in approval. "Suppose you lead off, Fritz, and let itbe a concerted yell."
Accordingly Fritz marshaled them all in a line, and gave the word. Suchan outbreak as followed awoke the sleeping echoes in the swamp, and senta number of startled birds flying madly away. Indeed, Jotham noticed arabbit bounding off among the hummocks of higher ground; and Noodlesafterwards declared that he had seen the "cutest little pussycat"ambling away; though the others vowed it must have been a skunk, andgave Noodles fair warning that if ever he tried to catch such a cunning"pussycat" he would be buried up to the neck until his clothes werefumigated.
"Don't hear any answer, do you, fellers?" remarked Seth, after theechoes had finally died away again.
Everybody admitted that there seemed to have been no reply to the shoutthey had sent booming along.
"Hope we didn't scare him by making such a blooming row," Seth went onto say.
"I'm bothered more by thinking that he may have been killed, or verybadly hurt when the balloon fell down," Paul ventured to say.
The thought made them all serious again. In imagination they picturedthat valiant fellow who had taken his life in his hands in the interestof sport, possibly lying there on the ground senseless, or buried in theslimy mud, which could be seen in so many places all around them. And itwas far from a pleasing prospect that confronted those eight scouts,though none of them gave any sign of wanting to back out.
"Mebbe a blast from my horn would reach him?" suggested Eben.
"Suppose you try it, eh? Paul?" Fritz remarked.
"No harm can come of it, so pitch in Eben," the other told the troopbugler.
"And put in all the wind you c'n scrape together," added Seth.
Accordingly Eben blew a blast that could have been heard fully a mileaway. He grew red in the face as he sent out his call; and doubtlesssuch a sweet medley of sounds had never before been heard in thatdesolate looking place since the time of the ice period.
"No use; he don't answer; or if he does, we don't get it," Sethobserved, in a disappointed tone.
"Then the only thing for us to do is to go ahead," Andy proposed.
"Paul's getting his bearings again," remarked Eben.
"I wanted to make dead sure," the scoutmaster observed, with a glow ofdetermination in his eyes. "You see, we tried to note just about wherethe balloon seemed to fall; and it takes a lot of figuring to keep thatspot in your mind all the while you're turning and twisting along thisqueer trail. But I feel pretty sure of my ground."
"Huh! wish I did the same," said Seth, holding up one of his feet, andshowing that he had been in black mud half way to his knee, when hemade some sort of bad guess about the footing under him.
Apparently Paul was now ready to once more start out. But they saw himgive a quick hack at a tree, and upon looking as they passed theydiscovered that he had taken quite a slice off the bark, leaving a whitespace as big as his two hands, and which could easily be seen at somedistance off in the direction whither they were bound.
That was called a "blaze."
If Seth thought he was having his troubles, they were slight comparedwith those that attacked one other member of the little band of would-berescuers.
Noodles, besides being a good-natured chap, was more or less awkward.Being so very stout had more or less to do with this; and besides, hehad a habit of just ambling along in any sort of happy-go-lucky way.
Now, while this might not be so very bad under ordinary conditions, whenthere was a decent and level road to be traveled over, it brought aboutall sorts of unexpected and unwelcome difficulties when they were tryingto keep to a narrow and crooked path.
Twice already had Noodles made a slip, and gone in knee-deep, to bedragged out by some of his comrades. And he was glancing around at thegloomy aspect with a look approaching _fear_ in his eyes, just as thoughhe began to think that they were invading a haunted region whererespectable scouts had no business to go, even on an errand of mercy.
Such was the wrought-up condition of his nerves, that when a branchwh
ich some one had held back, and then let slip, came in contact withthe shins of Noodles, he gave out a screech, and began dancing aroundlike mad.
"Snakes! and as big as your wrist too! I saw 'em!" he called out,forgetting to talk in his usual broken English way, because of hisexcitement.
They had some difficulty in convincing him that it was only a branchthat had caressed his ankle, and not a venomous serpent; for Noodlesconfessed that if he dreaded anything on the face of the earth it wasjust snakes, any kind of crawling varmints, from the common everydaygarter species to the big boa constrictor to be seen in the menageriethat came with the annual circus visiting Beverly.
Again and again was Paul making good use of his handy little camphatchet, and Seth took note of the manner in which the blazed trail wasthus fashioned. It may be all very fine to do things in theory, butthere is nothing like a little practical demonstration. And in alllikelihood not one of these seven boys but would be fully able to makejust such a plain trail, should the necessity ever arise. When one has_seen_ a thing done he can easily remember the manner of doing it; butit is so easy to get directions confused, and make blunders.
Paul was not hurrying now.
A mistake would be apt to cost them dear, and he believed that an ounceof prevention is always better than a pound of cure. If they could avoidgoing wrong, it did not matter a great deal that they made slowprogress. "Be sure you're right and then go ahead" was the motto of thefamous frontiersman, Davy Crockett, and Paul had long ago taken it ashis pattern too.
Besides, it paid, for any one could see that they were steadily gettingin deeper and deeper. The swamp was becoming much wilder now; and it wasnot hard to realize that a man getting lost here, and losing his head,might, after his bearings were gone, go wandering at haphazard for days,possibly crossing his own trail more than a few times.
It seemed a lonesome place. Animals they saw none. Perhaps there mightbe deer in the outer portions, but they never came in here. Although thescouts saw no evidences that wild-cats lived in the swamp, they couldeasily picture some such fierce animal crouching in this clump of mattedtrees or back of that heavy bush, watching their passage with fieryeyes.
The scouts found their long staves of considerable use from time totime. Had Noodles for instance been more adept in the use of the one hecarried he might have been saved from a whole lot of trouble. Perhapsthis might prove to be a valuable lesson to the boy. He could not helpbut see how smartly the others kept themselves from slipping off thenarrow ridge of ground by planting their staves against some convenientstump, or the butt of a tree, anywhere but in the oozy mud.
"Wait up for me!" Noodles would call out every little while, when hefell behind, for he seemed to have a horror lest he might slip into thathorrible bed of mud, and be sucked down before his chums could reachhim. "It iss nodt fair to leave me so far behindt der rest. How wouldtyou feel if you rescued der argonaut, and lose your chump; dell me dot?Give eferypody a chance, and--mine gootness, I mighty near proke my packdot time," for he had come down with a tremendous thump, when his feetslipped out from under him.
But as a rule boys are not apt to give a clumsy comrade much sympathy,and hence only rude laughter greeted this fresh mishap on the part ofNoodles.
"Nature looked out for you when she saw what an awkward chap you weregoing to be, Noodles," called back Fritz. "You're safely padded allright, and don't need to feel worried when you sit down, sudden-like. Ifit was me, now, there might be some talking, because I'm built more onthe jack-knife plan."
"Oh! what is that?" cried Eben, as a strange, blood-curdling sound camefrom a point ahead of them; just as though some unlucky fellow was beingsucked down in the embrace of that slimy mud, and was giving his lastshriek for help.
As the other scouts had of course heard the same thing, all of thedetachment came to a sudden halt, and looking rather apprehensively atone another, they waited to learn if the weird gurgling sound would berepeated, but all was deathly still.
Boy Scouts on a Long Hike; Or, To the Rescue in the Black Water Swamps Page 11