Within a few minutes Buck Hardy became aware of the absence of Zack James and suspected its cause, but went on cutting into the bee tree without a word. When James reappeared three-quarters of an hour later his trivial excuses were accepted without comment. By this time the pine had been felled, the hollow was located, and now, protected from the angry bees by the smoke from burning rags, the three men proceeded to cut into the tree and secure the stores of honey, a job that was about complete when Ted and Hubert appeared.

James had followed the boys far enough to become convinced that they were not running away and were really in pursuit of game; but his surprise was as great as that of the other men when the two young hunters came noisily into view, dragging the little bear after them.

"Well, this beats it all!" exclaimed Buck Hardy, dropping a bucket of honey and going to meet them.

As the boys hastily told their story in outline, Zack James walked up, smiling, and congratulated them.

"I saw you following us," Ted said to him, with a keen glance. "If you had stayed, you could have helped us bring in the cub."

"Who, me? I was jus' lookin' out for another bee tree," was the man's answer, but he dropped his eyes before Buck's haughty stare. "Let's hurry to the boats before the old one comes," urged Ted. "It would be a pity to have to kill the mother after taking the baby--and we don't need the meat."

"But some of us would like to have another bear skin," remarked Jim Carter.

"All right, kid," said Buck, taking no notice of Carter's suggestion.

"We're through, and we'll go."

And go they did, carrying the honey and forcing the captive cub along as fast as they could. James and Carter followed reluctantly, looking back and listening as they came; but at the landing place Buck stood aside and waited for them to get afloat first and take the lead on the return trip. Still more reluctantly they did this, not wishing a quarrel with the "c.o.c.k of the walk."

The two disappointed men were out of sight around a bend of the boat-road, and Buck and the boys were following with their prize when they heard a crash in the brush on sh.o.r.e and saw a full-grown bear come rapidly along the path, its nose seemingly bent to the scent. Buck started and gripped his gun, the hunter's instinct strongly astir within him.

"Oh, please don't shoot," whispered Ted. "These bears are not dangerous unless attacked; they don't have to be killed on sight like panthers. It would be such a waste."

"All right, kid; it's your bear," a.s.sented Buck, and sent the boat gliding round the bend before it was seen by the heavy creature hurrying on their trail.

XIV

Great was the delight of Billy, and outspoken the admiration and surprise of all, when Ted and Hubert dragged their prize into the camp on Deserters' Island. Everybody seemed pleased except Sweet Jackson.

While the latest slackers to arrive were questioning and complimenting Ted around the camp fire after supper, Jackson began to laugh in a sneering sort of way and presently remarked to n.o.body in particular:

"_He_ says if we waste a ounce o' meat we won't be able to whip them Germans. Then he kills a bear when we don't need the meat and right on top o' that he ketches a young cub. Very fine to talk! I've seen preachers that didn't live up to ther preachin' before to-day."

Ted broke the silence that followed.

"I confessed I was wrong the other time," he said, "but I thought this was different. We could have shot the mother, but we didn't. As for the cub, even if we can't tame it it can be kept until it is needed for food. Do you think it can be tamed, Mr. Hardy?"

"Don't worry, kid; you're all right, whether you can tame it or not,"

said Buck, after a steady look at Sweet Jackson that produced a noticeably sobering effect. "I saw a bear cub chained to a pole near a shanty on Billy's Island once, but it looked mighty wild and thin and down-in-the-mouth. I don't reckon they can be tamed without the help of one o' them circus men who knows how. This one's pretty apt to die--if it don't get away."

Ted looked very serious and fell silent. He lingered about the fire only until he had asked for news about the war from one "Mitch" Jenkins, a young man who had fled to the Okefinokee to escape the new draft, joining the other slackers at their camp only that afternoon. Finding that the newcomer had no news to impart of any importance, Ted soon confessed that he was tired and went off with Hubert to bed, there to lie awake a long while.

As soon as he was a.s.sured by their heavy breathing and snoring that the slackers were all asleep, the boy crept to the door in the floor, quietly put down the ladder and descended. Fifteen minutes later he was back in his bed. In the morning there was quite a commotion when it was discovered that the cub had escaped, although supposedly it was altogether secure. n.o.body noticed that Ted did not look surprised. The boy kept his secret, regretting his act only at moments in the presence of the hapless Billy's grief.

Ted consoled the quickly forgetful half-wit with the present of a silver quarter, and soon gave all his thought to more important matters. For after breakfast July called him aside and said with a very serious face:

"Come go wid me to de turkey pen; I got sump'n to tell you."

"I haven't seen Mr. Hardy this morning," remarked Ted, as he walked away from the camp with the negro.

"Dat's what I got to tell you. He on his way out de swamp. Dat new man, Mr. Jinkins, brung de news dat Mr. Hardy's ma sick, an' bright an' early dis mawnin' he started out. An' what's mose as bad, Mr. Peters an' Mr.

Jones gone wid 'im to fetch in some supplies. Dem three treats me de bes' of all of 'em in dis camp, an' dey's yo' bes' friends, too."

A sudden heart-sinking caused Ted's voice to be shaken as he asked when they expected to get back.

"Mr. Peters an' Mr. Jones say dey comin' right back--in two, three days.

But how you gwine to calkilate on Mr. Hardy?" July stopped in his tracks and gazed solemnly into Ted's eyes. "Sposen his ma keep sick an' he stay dere till she die or git better? An' while he waitin', sposen dey grab him an' sen' him to do waw? We'd never see him yuh no mo'."

Ted's face brightened momentarily and he said:

"If--if I thought he would go to the war willingly, I--I could give him up."

"You sho is a cap'n," said July, looking down on the boy with admiration, "for I reckon you know it'll be mighty diffunt in dis camp wid Mr. Hardy gone."

"I know," said Ted, very serious. "I've been thinking about it."

"Fum de very fust day he stan' between you boys and dat rough crowd.

An' dat puts me in mind o' what I got to tell you."

July suddenly fell silent. They were now near the turkey pen or trap, and a fluttering of wings against its bars showed that their trip was not to be without substantial gain. Two wild turkeys were captive in the pen. Having taken these out with much elation, clipped their wings, tied their feet together, and scattered more sh.e.l.led corn to attract fresh victims, July lifted his fluttering burden, started on the backward track, and resumed:

"De las' words Mr. Hardy say to me was, 'July, tek good care o' dem boys,' and I aim to do my level bes' right now. Cap'n Ted, lem me give you a piece o' advice: don't you go to talkin' to dem t'other mens 'bout dat waw, let 'lone exhortin' and shamin' 'em like de way you done. Hit won't do; hit won't begin to do. You sho must know dat yo'self."

"I understand," said Ted, gloomily.

"If Mr. Peters an' Mr. Jones was dere, you might say a little, but better be careful any time. I kin keep you boys in good vittles, but I can't keep dem mens fum cuffin' you round if dey git mad. So, do please 'member what I tell you."

After Ted had gratefully thanked him July went on to express the conviction that if Buck had not gone away in such a great hurry he would have left the boys better protected; he would have insisted that Peters and Jones stay at the camp in his absence and that two other men go out for the supplies.

"But I reckon he was so worried 'bout his ma dat he couldn't think of eve'thing. He didn't forgit you, dough. He tole dem mens he wanted to take you-all out wid 'im. He say you been in dis swamp long enough an'

you ought to be home. But dey wouldn't hear to it and dey voted him down. He was too worried an' busy gittin' ready to tussle wid 'em long, so he give up. But he tole 'em if anything happen to you boys while he gone dey'd have to answer to him."

"He's a gentleman," said Ted. "I can't understand why he ever came into this swamp, but I know what he is."

"So dat's de way it stans," said July, as they were approaching the camp. "Now, Cap'n Ted, you tell Hubut all I tole you, an' den you boys mus walk easy an' watch out. If anybody starts sump'n, don't let it be you."

Ted soon found opportunity to tell Hubert and was surprised to find that his cousin received the news more or less cheerfully.

"Now we may be able to get away from here," said Hubert. "I've wanted to go all the time, but you had notions in your head and were never ready.

I liked your s.p.u.n.k, Ted, and I thought the way you talked to the slackers was fine; but I knew it would never do any good, and I thought it was foolish for us not to run away at the first chance."

"I wanted to try to do a little to help win the war," said Ted, rather pathetically, as if by way of excuse for error, as if wondering whether, after all, Hubert had been right and he had been wrong.

He sighed deeply, lacking in sufficient experience of life to know that even the greatest souls have moments of depression wherein they are doubtful as to whether the very purest and highest aspiration or endeavor is worth while or even justifiable before the bar of good sense.

"We must get ready and watch for our chance," said Hubert, and Ted, sighing again, uttered no word of dissent.