by Carol Norton
CHAPTER XX.
HUNTING HELP.
CHARLEY next cut off small branches of cedar and placed them underthe unconscious little fellow's head and back so that he might restas comfortably as possible. This done, he sat back breathless andexhausted and waited impatiently for Walter's return.
Captain Westfield surveyed the young physician's work with hopefuladmiration. "If Chris lives, it will be you as has saved his life," hedeclared.
"He has saved mine more than once," Charley replied, "but I am afraidhe is not going to live. I don't like this deep stupor he has falleninto. I wish Walter would hurry."
Walter had been hurrying as fast as he could, and he soon appearedbearing a hatful of ripe palmetto berries. His riddled shoes andbleeding feet told of reckless running over the sharp rocks.
Charley smashed the ripe berries between two stones, catching the juicein his cap. Chris' teeth were tightly set, but he managed to pry themapart with his knife blade and forced some of the sticky liquid downhis throat.
"I don't know whether it will help him or not, but I am in hopes itwill," he said, as, tired out, he sat down by the little fellow's side."Those berries make a powerful tonic and stimulant, and I believe thatis what is needed. The poison seems to have deadened the heart's actionand brought on that stupor. A few minutes will tell whether it is goingto do any good."
It soon became evident that the rude remedies were performing theirmission well, the sufferer's pulse, which had grown slow and feeble,quickened, and his little face began to lose some of its ashen hue.
As soon as he became sure that a change for the better was takingplace, Charley arose from his brief rest.
"I am going to find help," he declared. "We must get him to some placewhere he can have proper attention. How far do you think we are fromJudson, Captain?"
"Not more than twenty miles to the north of it, I judge. Maybe not morethan ten miles. But you must not dream of starting yet awhile, lad. Youmust rest for a bit, an' have something to eat first."
"And I am going with you when you start," Walter declared. "Somethingmight happen to you amongst those slippery rocks and awful bog holes.The Captain can do all that can be done for Chris while you are gone."
There was no disputing the wisdom of both suggestions and they busiedthemselves with the first proposition, the finding of something to eat.This demanded more time and trouble. Another trip had to be made downto the water and considerable searching was necessary before they couldcollect enough of crabs and shell fish to make the full meal that theirhunger craved. Their rest they gained while their dinner was roastingin the coals.
Their rest, meal, and Chris' steadily improving condition, put them allin better strength and spirits, and the boys were cheerful when theybid the old sailor good-bye and made their start in search of help.
"We'll be back as soon as we can get back, Captain," Charley said, "butyou don't want to worry if we take longer than you expect."
"I reckon, I'll keep too busy to have much time for worryin'," the oldsailor replied. "Jes' be careful, lads, an' get back as soon as youcan."
He watched until the rank marsh grass hid the two lads from sight,then busied himself with making the camp a little more comfortable forhimself and his sick companion. Chris' welfare was the first thing toclaim his attention. With his sheath knife he cut armful after armfulof marsh grass and added it to the rough couch Charley had fashionedfor the little negro, converting it into a soft, comfortable bed.The low-hanging cedar boughs formed a kind of rude shelter over thelittle lad, but the captain was not entirely satisfied with it. Therainy season was near at hand and heavy showers might be expected atany time. A thick layer of marsh grass placed over the lowest cedarlimbs quickly made the covering more to his satisfaction. This done,he paused for a brief rest and to decide what should be his next task.Although, he knew that the port of Judson could not be more than twentymiles away, he realized that, owing to the necessarily slow travelingamongst the sharp rocks and bog holes, it might be at least three daysbefore the boys could succeed in getting back with help. His duties,then, would be the care of Chris, the providing of food for them both,and the gathering of firewood. Water was luckily plentiful, there wasan abundance of it in a cup-like depression near the center of theisland.
In a Northern country with no weapons but his sheath knife, these taskswould have seemed almost impossible of accomplishment, but the captainwas not discouraged. The first thing, of course, was to see that thelittle negro's marked improvement was not checked. Heating more stonesin the fire, the old sailor piled them around the mound of mud coveringthe wounded leg. Then, as the berries Walter had brought were nearlyexhausted, he decided that the next thing of importance was to lay ina fresh supply. He found the trip to the mainland slow and dangerous.Where the way was not strewn with sharp-pointed rocks, it was dottedwith forbidding-looking sink holes of soft, slimy mud. Rank-growingmarsh grass covered the whole, making it extremely difficult to pickout a safe passage through the dangers. At last, however, he gainedthe mainland where he found the oily black berries growing in greatestprofusion. He gathered his jacket full of them and then sat down on afallen log to rest a minute and look around. It was an inviting spot inwhich he found himself. The land rose up from the marsh to form a high,sloping bluff through which trickled a stream of clear, reddish water.
The bluff was covered with a dense growth of palms, satinwoods, bays,rubber trees, and low-ground palmettos. It was an ideal place for acamp, and the captain eyed it regretfully, wishing that it was possibleto bring Chris there from the little marsh-surrounded island. Butthat was impossible until the little fellow was able to walk and hedismissed the idea with a sigh. He was just gathering up his jacket ofberries to leave when a noise in the undergrowth close at hand madehim sink back to his seat on the log. The brushes before him partedsuddenly and a large deer stepped out into an open place not twentyfeet from where he sat. For a full two minutes, he and the timid animalremained motionless, looking directly into each other's eyes, then theold sailor pulled out his sheath knife and sprang for it with somewild notion of securing it for food, but the deer leaped lightly awaya few steps and stopped again as if in deepest wonder and curiosity.The captain sheathed his knife with a sigh. "I reckon, you don't knowhow wicked men are," he addressed the graceful animal. "Guess you ain'tever seed many men or you wouldn't be so powerful tame. Some steaksfrom you would taste right good, but you ain't aiming to let me getclose enough for that. Well, good-bye, old fellow, I hope I'll meet youagain sometime when I've got a good gun."
Saying which, the old sailor picked up his burden and headed back forthe island, the deer gazing after him in innocent-eyed wonder.
He had nearly reached the little camp when a scream from Chris sent himforward at a run, regardless of rocks and sink holes.
The scene that met his gaze as he burst into the little clearingchilled him with horror and dismay.
Attracted, no doubt, by its warmth, two huge, swollen-looking moccasinshad crawled up on the little heap of mud and now lay with their flat,ugly heads within a few inches of the little negro's trembling body.
"Don't move an inch, Chris," he shouted, as he broke off a dead limbfrom a cedar tree.
The caution was useless, for, bound as he was, hand and foot, Chriscould only lay and stare in horror and helplessness.
A couple of well-aimed blows from the stick killed the two poisonous,sluggish serpents, and, dragging them to the edge of the island, thecaptain pitched them out into the marsh.
"They ain't very pleasant visitors," he remarked as he returned to hishelpless companion, "but I reckon, they've done you a heap of good. Youwas laying like a dead man when I went ashore and now you look rightpert and lively."
"Dey's too sudden an' powerful medicine," grumbled Chris. "Dis niggermight jes' as well die as be scart to death. Golly! how my leg doesburn and smart. Please take dat stuff off ob hit, Massa Captain, an'unloose my han's."
But the old sailor feared to remove the mud
poultice, dreading anotherrelapse. However, he untied the little negro's hands, upon his promisethat he would lie still and not move. He was delighted with the changein the little lad. Whether the shock from the snakes, or, what was muchmore probable, the continued effects of the palmetto juice had done thework, the stupor which had frightened them all was entirely gone, andthe patient soon declared himself decidedly hungry.
Cutting a stick and laying it within Chris' reach so that he wouldhave the means of protecting himself from other possible visitors, theCaptain departed in search of food.
