CHAPTER IV.
A LESSON.
The reptile's swaying head had drawn back and the huge snake launcheditself forward from its coils straight for the dazed lad only a fewfeet in front of it.
Quick as was its spring, Charley was quicker. He dug his spur cruellyinto his little pony's flank. With a neigh of pain the animal leapedforward. For a moment there was a tangle of striking hoofs andwriggling coils of the foiled reptile, while Charley leaning over inhis saddle struck with the butt-end of his riding whip at the writhingcoils. Though it seemed an eternity to the helpless watchers it wasreally only a few seconds ere the pony sprang away from its loathsomeenemy and Charley with difficulty reined him in a few paces away. Thesnake with a broken neck lay lifeless on the ground, while Walter,sobbing dryly, had sunk into the arms of the captain, who had flunghimself from his horse with surprising agility for a man of his age.
With a glance at the group, Charley dismounted, and petting andsoothing his trembling horse, ran his keen eyes over the animal's legsand flanks. From the little pony's left foreleg trickled a tiny streamof scarlet.
"Bring up the packhorse, quick, Chris," he commanded, with a break inhis usually steady voice.
Quickly he removed pack, saddle and bridle from his mount. Rapidly ashe worked, he had only just removed the bridle when the pony sank toits knees, struggled for a moment to rise, then sank slowly to theground, where it lay looking up at its master with dumb appealing eyes.
Something welled up in Charley's throat. He flung himself on theground beside his pony and put his arms around its neck.
"Good-bye, Billy," he whispered. "We haven't known each other long butI've got mighty fond of you, Billy, and when the time came you didn'tfail me. You acted like a gentleman, old man."
Poor Billy's legs kicked restlessly to and fro as the tremors wentthrough him.
With a mist in his eyes, Charley arose and looked down on the faithfulanimal. The wounded leg had already swollen to twice its natural size,the body was twitching with spasms, and the large brown eyes wereeloquent with pain and suffering.
"I've got to do it, Billy. It's to save you torture, old fellow, justto save you useless suffering, Billy." He drew his pistol from hisbelt, took careful aim just behind the pony's ear, and, turning hishead away, pulled the trigger.
With never a backward glance at the still form, he strode over to thepack pony and removing the pack transferred his own saddle to theanimal.
The pack was quickly broken up into smaller packages and distributedequally amongst the party, and soon all were moving forward again ontheir westerly course.
It was a still, white, and shaken Walter who once more rode beside hissilent chum.
"You saved my life, Charley, and it's a poor return to merely thankyou," he said earnestly.
"Don't say anything about it," protested Charley, cheerfully. "Theshoe may be on the other foot next time, and I know you will do thesame for me then."
But Walter had not finished. "I want to say," he continued, "that youare the only one of us qualified to lead this party. Hereafter, whatyou say goes with me. I know it will with Captain Westfield too."
"There's Chris," said Charley with a smile. "I fear he will have tohave his little lesson before he gets in that frame of mind. Walt," hecontinued earnestly, "I do not want the responsibility but I am notgoing to shirk it now that it is thrust upon me. Frankly, though, Ican't help wishing that this trip was over and we were safe back intown once more."
"Thinking about our visitors of the other night!" Walter inquired.
Charley nodded. "If they meant any good to us, why did they not maketheir presence known to us," he reasoned. "Mark my words, we have notseen the last of them,--but hush, here comes the captain and Chris,there is no need to worry them with vague conjectures."
"See that prairie ahead, Charley?" asked the captain. "Chris saysthere's a big bird in the middle of it, but I can't see anything butgrass."
The party was now only a few hundred yards from the small prairie-likepatch. Charley rose in his stirrups and scanned it carefully.
"Chris is right," he said. "It's a big sand-hill crane."
"Good to eat, Massa Charley?" demanded the little darky, eagerly.
"I have eaten some that were equal to the finest turkey."
"Dat settles it," Chris shouted. "Golly, I reckon dis nigger goin' toshow you chillens how to shoot some. My shot, I seed him first."
"Don't shoot, Chris," said Charley, gently, "you can't get it and itwon't be fit to eat if you do."
But Chris' obstinacy and pompous vanity were aroused. "Tink dis niggercan't shoot, eh? You-alls just watch an' Chris will show you chillenssomfin'."
Charley said nothing more but his mouth set in a grim line. "Time forhis lesson," he murmured to Walter.
Chris waited until they had come within a hundred yards of the cranewhen he unslung his rifle and dismounted while the others reined in towatch the outcome.
The little darky rested his gun on his saddle and took careful aim.The crack of his rifle was followed by a hoarse squawk and the tallbird tumbled over lifeless.
Chris danced with delight. "I got 'em, I'se got 'em," he cried. Likea flash he was on his pony and galloping towards the dead bird.
"Come back, Chris," shouted Charley, but the little darky galloped onunheeding.
And now the rest of the party beheld a curious thing. Chris' pony hadreached the edge of the grass and had stopped so suddenly as to nearlythrow its rider over its head. In vain did the little negro apply whipand spur. Not a step further would the animal budge. They saw Chrisat last throw the reins over the pony's head and leaping from hissaddle plunge into the grass. Only the top of his head was visible butthey could trace his progress by that and it was very, very slow. Atlast he reached the crane and slinging it over his shoulder began toretrace his footsteps. His return was infinitely slow, but at last heregained his pony and dragging himself and his burden into the saddleheaded back towards the group of curious watchers. As he drew nearerthey stared in silent amazement. He was wet from head to foot, hisclothing was in tatters, and the blood flowed freely from a hundredcuts on face, hands and arms.
He rode up to Charley with a sickly smile. "I got 'em, Massa Charley,"he boasted weakly.
Without a word Charley reached over and took the crane from him.Stripping away the feathers, he exposed the body of the great bird andheld it up to view. The captain and Walter gave an exclamation ofdisgust. The body was merely a framework of bones with the skinhanging loosely from it.
"It's their moulting season," he explained simply.
"Why you doan tell me dat place full of water, dat grass cut likeknife, an' dat ole mister crane wasn't no good nohow," Chris demanded,hotly.
Charley gazed at the pathetic, wretched, little figure and hisconscience smote him.
"I told you not to go, Chris," he said gently, "but you would do it.This time there was plenty of time to explain to you that what youthought was merely a plot of grass was really a saw-grass pond, andthat sand-hill cranes are not fit for use this season of the year; butsuppose that a danger suddenly threatened us. Is it likely, Chris,that I would always have time to stop and explain just why I wanted youto do this or that?"
But Chris was suffering too much pain and humiliation to be soothed byCharley's explanation. With a snort of anger he dug the spurs into hispony's flanks and soon was far ahead of the rest of the party. In afew minutes he came tearing back to them, his face shining withexcitement.
"River ahead, river ahead," he shouted.
"It's the St. Johns," declared Captain Westfield, scarcely lessexcited. "There's no other river in these parts."
Although they spurred forward their jaded steeds the animals were soworn out that it was dusk before they reached the river bank, and theywent into camp immediately.
After the supper was over, Chris approached Charley, who was sittingapart from the rest, grave, silent, and evidently buried i
n deepestthought. The little darky began awkwardly, "Massa Charley, Massa Capsay you de leader an' he going to do just what you say widout axin' noquestions, Massa Walt say same ting, an' I guess Chris better say same,now. Golly, I jus' reckon dis nigger made a big fool of hisself overdat bird."
But although he answered Chris lightly and kindly, Charley was notelated over his unsought leadership. Vague suspicions were flittingthrough his mind, and his new responsibility was weighing heavily uponhis young shoulders. As the evening wore on he still sat silent,buried in thought. The captain was reading aloud from an old newspaperhe had brought along. Suddenly Charley straightened up, and a swiftglance passed between him and Walter.
Boy Chums in the Forest; Or, Hunting for Plume Birds in the Florida Everglades Page 4
