The Boy Scouts Down in Dixie; or, The Strange Secret of Alligator Swamp

by Herbert Carter

  CHAPTER XXII. THE MAN-TRAP.

  "Seems like it took a scout to do the job, and make such an importantdiscovery!" Step Hen hastened to remark, apparently proud of the factthat he too wore that magical khaki uniform.

  "But where's the gun, I don't see?" demanded Bumpus, who seldom allowedhimself to wholly believe things, until he understood all the details,for he could be very practical when he wanted.

  "Watch Thad, and you'll know," Giraffe told him.

  Thad was bending down, and to all appearances examining the stout cordthat had been drawn directly across the trail, mostly hidden by the lowscrub. It had been arranged by a master-hand at cunning, and was justhigh enough to make certain that a careless foot would strike againstit, bringing about the immediate result that the one who had placed itthere contemplated.

  Without even touching the cord the young scoutmaster commenced to followit along, foot by foot. The sheriff's posse, including Alligator Smith,the swamp guide, stood there and just watched to see what he would do.Somehow all of them seemed to have taken a strange liking for the patrolleader. Perhaps it was his manly bearing that made Thad friends soquickly; while the errand that had brought him down to Dixieland mayhave had more or less to do with it; for the hearts of these Southernboys and men are always tender toward one who has suffered; and chivalrytoward women and girls still abounds in the South as it can be foundnowhere else in this broad land of ours.

  But then that was an old story with Giraffe and the rest of the fellows;ever since Thad Brewster had come to Cranford and entered into theirsports they had been accustomed to seeing him make new and warm friendsas though he might be a wizard.

  Meanwhile the scout was apparently nearing the spot upon which hisattention had been centered. It was only a dozen or so feet away fromthe trail and seemed to be where three trees grew up in a queer clump,being shoots of a former swamp king among the oaks.

  Here Thad paused and bent still lower.

  "He's struck ile!" one of the posse was heard to say to a companion.

  "Reckon as haow he hes, Jed," another went on to remark.

  Bumpus stared as best he could, and waited impatiently to see what wouldbe the result of Thad's search. He held his breath so long, througheagerness, that his face grew furiously red; and one of the posse evenmoved a little further away from the fat boy, possibly under the vaguesuspicion that he was about to have a fit; or from some other reason.

  "Bully for Thad!" Giraffe was heard to say, a little louder thandiscretion might have dictated; at least Allan gave him a nudge in theback, which the tall scout understood to mean "less noise, there!" forhe cut his exultant ejaculations short, and wilted.

  "It's a sure-enough gun!" admitted Bumpus, giving a sort of whistle ashe allowed his breath to flow evenly again; just as you may have heardthe hydrant do when there is air in the pipe, and the water has beenturned on or off suddenly.

  But then all of them had already made sure of that same fact, even ifthey did not think it necessary to announce it in the same way the fatscout did.

  Thad came back to where they were grouped, awaiting him, and holding inhis hand the gun he had unfastened from amidst the three saplings, wheresome one had secured it, with the muzzle pointing straight toward thespot at which the trail was crossed by that concealed cord.

  "It was a sure enough man-trap!" Davy remarked, in considerable awe, ashe noted that the hammer of the old gun was still drawn back, as thoughready to be discharged with the slightest pull.

  Bumpus noticed that there still hung from the trigger a foot or so ofthat cord and from this he judged Thad must have just drawn the blade ofhis knife gently across the taut line; as the scout-master was veryparticular to always keep his hunting knife in perfect condition, theedge of the blade was as keen as a razor, and would sever that cordwithout the slightest influence upon the gun.

  "Well, that was a smart dodge, all right!" the Dixie sheriff remarked,admiringly, as Thad handed him the gun, which seemed to be an oldmusket, such as several of the posse were even then carrying, and whichhad perhaps played its part during those troublous times many yearsback, when the yankee horde invaded Southern pastures, and gradually,through force of numbers, drove the gallant Confederates to the wall.

  "Of course it was aiming right this way, Thad?" remarked Step Hen.

  "Yes, if any one of us had been silly enough to drag that cord with ourfeet, the gun would have been fired, and whatever it contains must havecome this way, with more or less painful results," the other informedhim.

  "Huh! looks to me like it'd hold just about a pint of bullets, old nailsor anything else that's calculated to give trouble," said Davy, as herespectfully touched the rusty old weapon that Jasper must have fetchedalong especially for the purpose to which it had been put.

  "And," Thad continued, "you can see how he expected it to serve twopurposes; for besides standing a chance of wounding some one when itwent off, the gun would give him warning, and he could have time toescape. It was a clever trick, and shows us what sort of smart rascalwe're looking up."

  "An I wanter say right heah," remarked Alligator Smith, frankly; "thetit's all owin' tuh them sharp eyes o' yourn we ain't riddled afore nowby the shot er bullets as mout be in this yer gun; 'case I admits as howI never sot out tuh look to' any sech contraption in ther grass erbrush; an' chances air I'd gone stumblin' right acrost, so as tuh drawthet trigger, an' upset theh fat in theh fire, even if I war lucky enufftuh 'scape gettin' plugged myself. Arter this I'm agwine tuh larn more'bout scouts an' sech. Seems like they knows ther bizness; an' even aole swamp hunter like me kin larn somethin' frum theh same."

  "Hurrah!" said Giraffe; but he knew Allan was standing close beside him,and not feeling like drawing another stiff dig in the ribs as a reproof,he just whispered the one word, while pretending to clap his hands; forthese boys were justly proud of their calling, and could never hearwords of praise uttered for scout-craft without a personal sense ofsatisfaction.

  "Well, that's one game failed, anyway!" Bumpus was heard to say, half tohimself, as though in imagination he was thus decreasing the perils thathe expected were lying in wait along their course.

  "They'll all fall before us, see if they don't," Davy Jones went on tosay, as though his confidence had grown by leaps and bounds, and hadreached a final stage when he saw Thad nip the plot of the enemy soneatly.

  "Sometime I'd just like to take the trouble to draw the load he put inthat old musket," Step Hen told Smithy, who was close to his elbow.

  "Whatever good would that do you?" asked the other, who could notunderstand why any one could allow his curiosity to make him so muchunnecessary work; for while Smithy had reformed in many ways, he still"shirked" a little, Thad had often noticed, for he had never been shownthe delight of _doing things_.

  "Well, don't you understand that it might give a fellow a certain amountof satisfaction to know what a narrow escape he had?" asked the other."Suppose now, I was to extract seven bullets, sixteen rusty nails, acouple of marbles, four screws and a few other things I just can't thinkof, from that old cannon, wouldn't the sight of the lot make me gladderthan ever that Thad found it out in time; and that we didn't get thatwagon-load of stuff turned in on us, backed by six drams of blackpowder? Smithy, you ain't got any idea of being thankful over things.Just however would you be able to keep on talking in that stiltedlawyer-like way you've got, if a nail had knocked a bunch of teethout--tell me that, will you?"

  "Aw! keep still, there, Step Hen, this ain't the place for argumentslike that. Just wait till we've got to the end of the trail, and thensome!"

  Strange to say it was neither Thad nor Allan who took the trouble toadmonish the talkative scout in this fashion, but Giraffe himself. Sincehe was debarred from giving _his_ opinion by the proximity of Allan andhis ready hand, the tall member of the patrol evidently thought that hecould at least find some satisfaction by passing the reproof along;since misery likes company.

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nbsp; But all the same, while Step Hen did relapse into silence after beingtold so plainly that he had no business to air his views, he tookespecial pains to notice where Thad laid the old rusty musket down in aclump of brush.

  "Huh! reckon I could find that place again, easy," the boy was tellinghimself in confidence; "and I will, too, if everything passes off comfy,and we get our man. Guess there ain't much danger of our missingconnections there, with such a bully mob to surround the place, andfellows like our Thad to think up things. I want to just show Smithywhat there is in that gun, and s'prise him, that's all."

  Now that the trail could be followed once more without much danger ofanother man-trap, Thad and the swamp-guide were again starting out;though the latter before taking a step had made sure to add furtherwarning to what he had already said about every one keeping as still aspossible.

  Really there was little need of saying that, for it was easy to see fromthe set looks on all those faces how the men and boys were alive to theoccasion, and not likely to risk spoiling the surround by any incautiousmove, or loud unnecessary talk.

  One thing at least favored them a little. This was the breeze, whichseemed to be blowing directly in their faces. Thus any sounds they mighthappen to make would not be carried ahead, as would have been the caseshould they have been traveling _down_ the wind.

  This probably came about by sheer accident; but all the same it wasnoticed by those of the scouts who were woodsmen enough to pay attentionto small things; and of course Thad and the swamp-hunter had known of itall along.

  The boys presently realized that they must be close upon the broadslough spoken of by Tom Smith, when he declared that the sunken ridgewhich must be followed was the only way he knew about whereby passagemight be effected, so as to reach the higher island wooded beyond;though he had at the same time admitted that Jasper might have someother means for escaping if hard pressed, discovered when, as a boy, hefrequently visited this section of the swamp.

  "There she is!" muttered Giraffe, and Bumpus, hearing the low words,raised his eyes from the ground, to stare ahead at the prospect facingthem.

  It did not require any particular knowledge of woodcraft to proclaimthat what the elongated scout had remarked was quite true, for thedreadful bog might have no substantial bottom short of a hundred feet,was before them.

  It looked bad to Bumpus, stretching away for several hundred yards towhere the trees again grew heavily on solid ground. The ooze wasdeceptive. It had a green scum on the surface in places, as though someverdure had taken root, but in all probability had any one ventured totrust his weight upon such deceptive spots he must have speedily foundhimself immersed in muck up to his knees, or worse, and unable alone andunaided to ever keep himself from sinking gradually deeper and deeper,until it was over his head.

  Bumpus shivered as he looked. It was as though he felt in his very bonesthat an unkind fate destined him to make the test as to whether the badname given to this bog were well deserved, or not.

  As they stood there on the edge looking out, while the alligator hunterwas making sure that he knew exactly where to enter the muck bed, so asto feel out the sunken roadway that wound in zig-zag fashion over to theisland, good-natured Bob White felt some one poke him in the side.

  Looking down he saw the solemn face of Bumpus there; and there was anexpression of almost pitiful appeal in the eyes of the fat scout, suchas the Southern boy remembered once noticing in the brown orbs of a deerhe had wounded, and which had to be put out of its misery.

  But then of course he did not anticipate that Bumpus was going to askhim to do the merciful thing by him, and end his sufferings; though heunderstood plainly enough that the stout scout was enduring some sort ofagony of mind.

  "Will you do me a favor, a great favor, Bob, _please_?" Bumpuswhispered, looking quickly around at the same time, as though wishing tomake sure that neither Davy nor Giraffe were close enough to overhearwhat he said.

  "To be sure I will, Bumpus," quickly replied the other; "anything withinreason you can count on me doing, suh. I believe in scouts standing byeach other."

  "Oh! thank you, Bob; it's kind of you to say that," Bumpus went on, ashe tried to thrust something into the hand of the other. "Please takethis, and if it does happen, pull like everything; because I'm heavy,you know, and chances are I'd sink quicker'n any of the rest of you."

  "But--this is a piece of heavy cord, Bumpus, perhaps the same that wasstretched across the trail a little while ago?" exclaimed the astonishedBob.

  "That's right, I was quick to see how I might use it, for scouts areexpected to keep their brains moving all the time. You see," continuedBumpus, confidingly. "I just feel it in my bones that I'll be the one tomiss connections with that crazy old hidden path, and fall slap into themud, and I've got the other end tied under my arms; so in case you heara splash, be ready to hold tight, Bob. That's a good fellow!"