"Get busy there, Landy, use your pole, and push us along. Don't stand there just like you were frozen stiff; we won't let any cat grab you, make up your mind to it. Get a move on you, I say, Landy Smith."

"Oh! well, might as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb, I reckon,"

muttered the fat scout as he started to make use of his push-pole.

For the time being, caution was thrown to the winds; all Landy considered was the rapidity with which he could get past that ominous tree containing Toby's bobcat.

Perhaps Landy's heart was beating a regular tattoo as he found himself actually compelled to pa.s.s under the tree itself, owing to the narrowness of the channel at just that part of the runway. Elmer, watching out of the tail of his eye, could see how pale the other had become, and he was secretly amused.

It was just like Lil Artha, when their skiff was directly under the suspected tree, to utter a low gasp, and proceed to elevate his gun in a hurry, as though sighting the quarry.

Poor Landy came very near having a fit; he dropped the pole overboard and fell backwards in the boat, which came near swamping. Toby, in the other craft, succeeded in rescuing the floating pole before it had gone completely beyond reach.

"Guess I was mistaken that time!" said Lil Artha, without cracking a smile, although no doubt he must have been secretly chuckling at the way the handler of the push-pole had shown alacrity in getting out of range.

So Landy, with a sheepish grin, managed to get on his feet again, and take the rescued pole from Toby's hands. He gave the tall scout a sharp look as though suspecting that it had been a trick intended to play upon his nerves. But then Landy was always a good-natured fellow, and never bore anyone ill-will, no matter what the joke might be of which he became the victim.

Toby could not be persuaded that he had not glimpsed a wildcat in that tree under which they pa.s.sed. He kept staring back as long as it was possible to catch a view of its leafy branches.

"Well, say what you like," he concluded, "I did see _something_ whisk out of sight up there; yes, and it had starey eyes in the bargain. If it was a 'c.o.o.n, then all I can say is they breed queer 'c.o.o.ns up in this old Sa.s.safras Swamp country. There now, that's about enough from me."

"The afternoon is nearly half gone, and we haven't scared up our quarry yet," advised Mark later on.

"Plenty of time, for there's another day coming," said Elmer. "We're here to comb the swamp through from end to end but what we'll find n.o.body knows. Keep listening, too. It might be possible we'd hear a shout that would give us a clue."

"Say now, I hadn't thought of that before," admitted Toby. "If Hen _is_ being treated harsh-like by that unknown who's got hold of him, mebbe he might let out a yawp once in a while. There's no harm done in listening, I reckon, and Landy here could tell if it was him giving tongue."

Now and then some sound did come to their ears, but of an entirely different character from the one they were hoping to catch. A granddaddy bullfrog on some mossy log sent out loud and deep-toned demands for "more rum! more rum!" Then a saucy bluejay started in to scold the fellows in the boats for daring to trespa.s.s in its preserves, and how the angry bird did lay it on until they were well beyond reach of its chatter.

Once a far-away grumble floated faintly to their ears, at which there was an immediate comparing of opinions. Some seemed to incline to the belief that it must be distant thunder, and that they were bound to soon be caught in a storm, which had been creeping unnoticed up on them, the dense foliage by which they were surrounded preventing them from learning the fact sooner.

"If you asked me what it was," said Elmer, when he found that the others were not able to agree, "I'd be inclined to say we're not more than half a mile away from one side of the swamp, and that there's a farm lying yonder on which they keep a bull. I imagine it was his lowing we heard just then."

"Bully, say I, not meaning to be funny either," remarked Landy; "for I'd a heap sooner believe it was a bovine trying out his bazoo than a thunder-storm heading this way. It's bad enough to be in constant danger of getting ducked by falling overboard, without taking chances overhead in the bargain."

As they did not hear any repet.i.tion of the suspicious sound the scouts finally determined that Elmer had guessed right, and that there must be a stock farm not a great distance away from the border of the swamp.

The more they pushed on into what seemed the interminable recesses that surrounded them the greater became their wonder as to how they were to find those they sought. The chances seemed very much against them; but then they had an abounding faith in Elmer's sagacity; and he seemed to be determined on persevering. Doubtless, too, the others reasoned to themselves, Elmer had some clever plan laid out which would be sprung when the proper time arrived; and this confidence did much to relieve their minds as they pressed steadily on.

Lil Artha was apparently bent on making Landy pay for his previous easy time; he kept the other at work, though frequently the fat scout had to hold his push-pole under his arm while he mopped his reeking brow.

Perhaps Landy panted very loud on purpose, with the object of causing his obdurate boss to relent, and give him a chance to "spell" with Mark.

Heedless of sighs and half-heard groans alike, Lil Artha just sat there and took his ease, while the slave worked and worked as though he were chained to the galley's oar.

No one ever knew whether it were actually an accident or a deep-laid scheme on the part of the weary Landy to end this period of torture.

There may be some things even worse than a mere ducking--at least a stout boy like Landy Smith might think so.

At any rate, none of the scouts happened to be looking very closely at the time, and consequently they could not say one way or the other.

All they knew was that without any warning Landy was seen to be dragged out of the stern of the skiff, struggle to clasp his writhing legs about the pushpole that stood at an oblique angle, caught firmly in the tenacious mud, and then releasing his hold, flop with a great splash into the dark-colored water of Sa.s.safras Swamp!

CHAPTER X

THE SUSPICIOUS ACTIONS OF LANDY

To this very day, it has never been positively known among the scouts of the Wolf Patrol whether Landy met with an unexpected accident, or allowed himself to be deliberately dragged out of the boat, seized with a sudden overwhelming desire to end his spell of drudgery.

The splash was simply terrific, and Landy vanished completely beneath the surface of the swamp water, which chanced to be fairly deep at that place, as of necessity Landy himself must have known.

"Oh! he's overboard!" exclaimed Toby, in the other boat, perhaps louder than his orders from the scout master permitted.

"What a nuisance!" grunted Lil Artha, trying to appear unconcerned, though it might have been noticed that he tried the best he could to stop the movement of the skiff by thrusting both hands in the water, and paddling.

Mark did better than that, for he s.n.a.t.c.hed up a thwart that he knew was loose, and started to use it vigorously so as to check the progress of the floating boat.

Meanwhile, of course, Landy came to the surface like a bobbing cork that had been pulled down by the bite of a fish. He was floundering around like a whale, spouting volumes of water that he must have swallowed in his dive, and apparently doing his level best to stay on top.

"Hey! ain't you goin' to help a feller?" they managed to make out from his almost incoherent splutter.

The other boat had by now pushed up close alongside, and Elmer, leaning over the side, seized the swimmer by the coat collar. Landy at once allowed himself to apparently collapse. He was content to have someone support him; but some of his chums imagined there was a suspicious _manufactured_ look in the expression of terror that had fixed itself on his face.

With plenty to lend a helping hand the fat scout was soon pushed and hauled on board the skiff from which he had fallen. The treacherous pole was also recovered and given in charge of Lil Artha, for, of course, it could not be expected that a fellow who had just been rescued from a watery grave would be able to continue that arduous task of pushing.

Lil Artha frequently looked queerly at the dripping Landy as he used the pole. Sometimes he would chuckle softly to himself, and a swift grin flash athwart his lean countenance as though a humorous thought had struck him; after which the tall scout might be observed to shake his head as if bothered.

Landy settled down to taking things easy. He wanted them all to know that he had had a remarkably close call, and every little while he would heave a great sigh, to follow it with such words as:

"I'm terrible glad you boys were on deck to save me. My clothes seemed as heavy as lead, and I sure think I'd have gone down three times if you hadn't chucked me aboard here. That was a narrow squeak for me. I guess I went and got too confident, and it made me careless. But holy smoke! how that mud can grip! I just couldn't get the old pole out nohow, and that's a fact. I won't forget what you did for me, fellers, sure I won't. I hope to be able to do the same for every lasting one of you some day."

"You're too kind, Landy," laughed Toby; "none of us are hankering after an experience like that. I'll never forget what you looked like, dangling there on that push-pole, and trying to squirm your legs around it so as to climb up. Want to know what you made me think of, Landy?"

"Go on and tell me," said the other, with a tremble in his voice, for he was by this time beginning to feel the effect of his immersion.

"Why, you remember how we used to go frog-hunting in a boat, with a three-foot line at the end of a stout pole, and a small hook baited with a piece of red flannel? Well, when we'd see a whopping big greenback we'd dangle that red stuff close to his nose. It was funny to see him squat down like a cat does on sighting a sparrow or a robin, and then jump up to grab the flannel."

Toby paused to chuckle afresh, and the object of his attack urged him to continue, although he evidently realized that he was about to be held up to boyish ridicule.

"First, the frog thinks he wants that queer red bug the worst kind,"

Toby went on to say, "but as soon as he feels the hook he changes his mind. Then he starts in to do the greatest acrobatic feats you ever saw, twisting his hind legs up over his head like he wanted to turn a somersault, or else climb up the line. Well, when I saw you dangling on that push-pole, I thought of a fat, greenback frog."

"Huh! guess you'd a tried to climb, too, if you'd been in my place,"

grunted the stout scout, drawing his coat a little closer around him, and shivering.

"No, I'd have stuck by the boat, Landy," said Toby, soberly.

Landy shot him a suspicious glance but did not make a reply. Perhaps he may have been wondering whether any of his mates already suspected that his recent narrow escape had not been such an accident as it appeared.