Boy Chums in the Forest; Or, Hunting for Plume Birds in the Florida Everglades

by John Henry Goldfrap

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  CAPTURED.

  From the expression on their faces, Walter judged that the other fourconvicts were in doubt as to which of the two plans they should lendtheir support to. "Are you sure we'll catch 'em, Cap?" inquired one,doubtfully, "there are so powerful many forks to this river, it's likehunting for a needle in a haystack."

  "If we don't get 'em, Injin Charley will," declared the leader,confidently. "I wouldn't be surprised to see him show up with 'em anyminute now. He's an Injin and knows just what course them redskins inthe dugout will be likely to take."

  Still the outlaws seemed to waver, and the leader shifted hisarguments. "If you fellows take up with Salino's fool idea, just thinkwhat shape you'll be in, even if you don't get caught. You won't haveno money and will have to go around like a hobo until you make astrike. Now if we catch this chief, I reckon we can torture him, tillhe tells us where his plumes are hid. Then when things have quieteddown a bit we can send a man in to dispose of 'em and walk out of herelike gentlemen with money in our pockets."

  This argument seemed to appeal to his companions, and the murmuringceased.

  Walter decided that he had heard enough, and turning, started toretrace his way back to the canoe. His second movement forward,however, was his undoing. A large limb upon which he had trusted hisweight broke noisily under him, and he was precipitated forward into ahuge clump of briars. Before he could regain his feet, strong handsseized him and dragged him, still vainly struggling, out into theclearing.

  "One of 'em," cried the leader triumphantly, "I reckon the rest ain'tfar off. Scatter and search the point for 'em, boys,--but wait a bit,maybe this young cub can save us trouble."

  But Walter had been thinking rapidly. If he was to save his chum itwas no time for nice scruples. With a silent prayer for forgiveness,he waited the outlaws' questions.

  The leader drew a revolver, cocked it, and presented it at the lad'shead. "You can tell me the truth now or I'll blow your head off," hegrowled.

  Walter's face took on an expression of fear and cringing terror fargreater than he was really feeling. The brutal ruffian eyed thisappearance of fear with every evidence of satisfaction. "Now I guessyou'll answer my questions truthfully," he said threateningly. "First,where are your companions?"

  "They left us in the darkness and we could not catch up with them.They must be way up the river by now," Walter stammered.

  His questioner swore loudly. "Got past us, did they? Well, no matter,we'll get them easily now, we know for sure which stream they took."

  Walter could hardly conceal his delight at having put the ruffian upona false trail, but he was ready for the next question, which camequickly.

  "How did you get here?"

  "The canoe struck a log, capsized, and sank. I swam ashore."

  "What became of the fellow in the boat with you?"

  "Drowned, I guess," said Walter with a sob.

  The leader turned to the others. "I reckon he's too scairt to belying," he said, "however, you had better take a look around the point.Be quick about it, though, for we will have to hurry to catch up withthose other chaps. Here, tie this fellow up before you go."

  Walter was seized, his hands tied behind him, and he was lashed withhis back to a small satinwood tree.

  He watched the departure of the ruffians with sinking heart. If theysearched thoroughly, Charley and the canoe were sure to be discovered.

  The outlaws soon returned, however, after a very careless search andreported nothing in sight. Truth to tell, tired as they were, they hadquickly wearied of trying to force their way through the dense jungle.

  After a hasty breakfast, the leader gave the order to mount. "You twostay here and wait for Injin Charley," he commanded, indicating two ofthe gang. "We have got to let him know what we've learned. I reckonwe'll be back by night, if we ain't, you follow us in the morning."

  "What shall we do with the kid?" inquired one of the men.

  "Turn him over to Injin Charley when he comes in. I reckon he'll knowwhat to do with him," said the leader with a grin so evil andsuggestive that it made the helpless lad's blood run cold.

  The four outlaws and their leader mounted their ponies and soon werelost to sight among the trees. The two left behind proceeded to makethemselves comfortable without a thought for the exhausted lad whosetight bonds cut cruelly into arms and legs. They raked up beds ofleaves upon which they spread their blankets and then proceeded to makeup for the sleep they had lost during the night.

  Walter was not only suffering much physically, but was in great mentaldistress as well. He feared that at any moment Charley, alarmed by hislong absence, might call or fire off one of the guns and bring theoutlaws to his hiding-place. How could he warn him of the danger hewas in? Suddenly the bound lad was seized by an ingenious idea.Assuring himself by their deep breathing, that his captors were fastasleep, he began to whistle, softly at first, then gradually louder andlouder till the weird, mournful strains of the "Funeral March" filledthe air.

  One of the guards tossed restlessly and woke up cursing. "Shut up thatwhistling," he shouted, "that blooming thing gets on my nerves."

  Walter had no option but to obey, but the awesome tune had carried itsdoleful message. The mournful notes had reached the ears of thewounded lad in the canoe. Its message was plain to him. Walter was acaptive, or in great danger. And now began a contest betweenwill-power and pain and weakness from which many a man would haveshrunken.

  Three times Charley struggled to rise to his feet, only to sink backexhausted with great beads of sweat standing out on his brow. At last,abandoning the attempt, he began to wriggle back towards the stern ofthe canoe. His progress was slow and painful, and even in the shortdistance to be covered, he had often to lay quiet and rest. At last hesucceeded in reaching the stern, but here his difficulties were by nomeans ended. Working awkwardly with his left hand he managed to drawhis hunting-knife and slash open the pack of provisions they hadbrought with them. From these he selected a can of milk. It was slowwork opening it with one hand, but at last he succeeded in removing thetop. Part of the contents he swallowed as it was, the balance hediluted with water and broke hardtack up in it. By the time he hadfinished the food, a little color had crept back into his face. He wasstill very weak, however, and another attempt to rise met with failure.For a few minutes he lay quiet thinking, then rummaging in the pack hebrought forth a pint bottle of brandy. With repugnance written on hisface, he took several swallows of the fiery liquor. It ran through hisveins like fire. Shoving the bottle into his pocket, he succeeded instaggering to his feet and slowly pulled himself up on one of themangrove's roots, and, pausing frequently to rest, gradually worked hisway to the shore.

  Walter's captors slept heavily until the noon hour, when they awoke,stirred up the fire, and prepared some dinner; but they offered none ofit to the unfortunate lad, who watched its preparation with hungryeyes. Their repast finished, the two ruffians enjoyed a long smoke,after which they played a few games of cards which ended in a violentdispute that nearly resulted in blows.

  As the afternoon wore on without the appearance of the party they wereexpecting, they again composed themselves to slumber. Slowly theafternoon wore away and the two outlaws still slept on. The sun wentdown and night began to fall and still the two showed no signs ofawakening.

  Suddenly Walter felt the bonds that held him slip to the ground andCharley's voice whispered, "Drop on all fours, Walt, and work your wayback into the thicket."

  Walter did as he was bid as quickly as his stiffened limbs would permitand soon caught up with his chum, who had begun to retrace his steps assoon as he had severed the captive's bonds. In fact, he dared not waitor tarry, for the false strength engendered by the brandy was fastleaving him. To give out on the way would be fatal to both. He mustreach the canoe before the last remnant of his strength gave out or allwas lost.

  Slowly the two boys wormed their way through the jun
gle, expectingevery second to hear the sounds that would indicate that the prisonerwas missed and pursuit begun.

  At last they reached the clump of mangroves that concealed the canoe.Here outraged nature claimed its due and Charley sank on the edge ofthe shore unable to go further. It required nearly all of Walter'sremaining strength to drag his insensible chum over the roots and lowerhim into the canoe. Precious as was each moment lost, Charley demandedinstant attention, his wound had broken open again from his exertionsand his tattered shirt was wet with blood. Walter stuffed bits ofcloth into the hole and bound it up as well as he could in thedarkness. This labor completed, he cast loose the canoe, and with afew strokes of the paddle sent her over to the other side of thestream. Here he laid aside his paddle and sank back to rest and think.The friendly darkness completely hid them from the gaze of anyone onthe point. Until the moon rose they were as safe there as any place onthe river. The plucky lad sorely needed rest and refreshment. For twodays and a night he had been without sleep and for twenty-four hourswithout food. This, with the strenuous labor and excitement throughwhich he had passed, had rendered him nearly as weak as his unconsciouscompanion. Sleep was out of the question until they were safe fromtheir enemies, but food was handy and he lost no time in making ahearty meal on a can of corned beef, crackers and a tin of milk. Therepast brought fresh strength and courage, although his head felt veryheavy and he could hardly keep his eyes open.

  With the outlaws ahead and behind them, there was little choice of thedirection in which they should flee, and Walter paddled steadily on upthe river, keeping close to the opposite shore from the convicts.

  Hour after hour passed and found him still paddling wearily onward,every muscle and nerve in his body aching with fatigue. At last abrightening of the sky in the east warned him of the rising of themoon. As its bright beams lit up the gloomy river and desolatemarshes, Walter gave a cry of joy; directly ahead, right in the middleof the stream, lay a small island, its shores fringed with a densegrowth of mangroves. As the canoe drew nearer, Walter surveyed it withincreasing delight. Here was surely a safe place of refuge where theymight stay as long as their provisions lasted and until their enemiestired of the pursuit. Where the island lay, the river had widened outinto a fair sized lake and the nearest shore was out of gunshot. Therewas no way that the outlaws could reach them except by boat, and theyhad none with them.

  With lightened heart, Walter ran the canoe far up into the mangrovesand fastened it securely to a large root. Making his way ashore hesoon found a small space of cleared ground, to which he speedilyconveyed their blankets which he spread out on the dry sand. Returningto the boat he endeavored in vain to rouse Charley from the stupor intowhich he had fallen. At last he gave up the attempt and half carriedand half dragged his chum ashore and laid him on his blanket, thenquickly stretching himself out by his side, was soon fast asleep.

  Once in the night Walter was awakened by a loud splashing. With pistolin hand he stole to the water's edge. Many dark masses were slowlygliding to and fro on the surface of the stream. "Alligators," heexclaimed with a sigh of relief and returned to his blanket and sleep,from which he was only aroused again by the rising of the sun.