"Ten--ten--double ten--forty-five--fifteen hundred--are you all hid?"

shouted Billy in great glee and with an air of vast importance. And such whooping and running and hiding in far dark recesses as followed!

"Now's de time!" whispered July, when the fun was at its height, and he and Ted and Hubert had run off and squatted together behind the same clump of palmettos.

According to the plan agreed to, the negro was now to run down to the landing-place, step into the water and hide all the boats as far out in the thick growth of the submerged swamp as he dared to go, thus conveying the impression that the fugitives had escaped by way of the great marsh.

The course of the game now compelled the conspirators to separate and return to headquarters; but as soon as the next rush for cover was made the boys saw the negro dart away in the direction of the landing, and until he returned they played more enthusiastically and noisily than ever in order to distract attention from his absence. When he reappeared at last his trousers were wet to the knees, but this did not seem to attract notice. It was understood that the first rush for cover in the game after his return was to begin the dash for freedom.

So when the boys saw the negro again dart away along the path into the swamp-cane, they followed fast with throbbing hearts, arriving at the boat-landing before Billy had finished the last recitation of his "rigmarole." There Ted and Hubert were given their guns and July s.n.a.t.c.hed up a bucket of food--all of which he had cunningly conveyed thither since the beginning of the game. The negro promptly stepped into the water and bade the boys follow.

"Got to wade round a piece to fool dem dogs," he whispered.

XV

July led the boys about fifty feet from the sh.o.r.e along the open boat-road, then turned to the right into the thick growth and skirted the island for several hundred yards before landing again. This was no trifling undertaking. The water in many places rose over their knees, and was thick with drift and moss; the bottom was often boggy, and the dense swamp growth forced them to a tortuous route. Moreover, little light descended from the moon among those crowding trees.

"Ten--ten--double ten!" they faintly heard Billy still shouting as they landed, glad to know that as yet their absence had not caused alarm.

Flight across the "prairie" had been voted down because they could take only two boats and rapid pursuit would be inevitable. The trail leading out from Honey Island attracted them, but the boat trip thither was difficult and impossible to follow by night. So they had chosen the jungle trail leading from the lower end of Deserters' Island which the boys had located on the day they killed the wild-cat. The boats had been hidden and they had waded some distance in order to convey a wrong impression as to their real design and delay pursuit.

Halting to listen a few minutes after they landed, they distinctly heard the names of Ted and July called, and knew that at last they were missed. After a few minutes, as they hurried on their way, another shout reached them; and after a brief silence several sharp short yelps from the dogs were heard.

July leaped forward at the sound, urging the boys to haste. The darkness was bewildering until they emerged from the "hammock" and gained the more open pine woods forming the backbone of the island. Here the moonlight filtered through the scattering tops of the tall pines and they could distinguish prominent objects fifty feet away. Even here, however, rapid headway was difficult owing to the blackjack thickets and crowding clumps of the fan-palmetto preventing a straight course. There was a faint trail leading for some three miles toward the lower end of the island, but there was no time to search for it, and they pushed ahead in the general direction as best they could.

An hour later, descending at last into the dense "hammock" growth joining the swamp and the island's lower end, they halted to listen. All was deathly still, at least in the direction of the slackers' camp; but the quiet of the dark slumbering swamp in their front was suddenly broken by the dismal hoot of an owl.

Ted urged that they search for the jungle trail he and Hubert had located and, having found it, push far into the swamp before break of day; but July's courage now failed him and he objected. He said it was dangerous to push into the swamp at night, as indeed it was; that they might sink into a bog over their heads, might walk blindly into a nest of moccasins, or might be set upon by a panther.

"The great trouble is that you are both right," said Hubert.

"Dem mens won't start down dis-a way till daylight," said July. "Dey won't find out we ain't in de boats till mawnin' an' we kin git a big start on 'em on de swamp trail. Less stay up dere in dem open pines till daybreak."

They paused a few moments, undecided. Suddenly from the dark depths of the swamp in their front a strange cry was borne to their ears, an indescribable cry that made their flesh creep.

"What's that?" whispered Hubert.

"Mus' be a pant'er," was July's whispered response.

The cry was heard again, more mysterious and startling than before. Then July bolted up the slope and was followed by the boys into the more open pine woods where the moonlight outlined all objects within their near view. July wanted to build a fire, but Ted would not consent to such imprudence, and finally it was agreed that they sit down with their backs to a large pine and watch until daylight.

All was now quiet and gradually they recovered from their fright. It was balmy spring weather, but they felt the chill of the night air. With a view to their greater comfort, July rose and tore down a couple of armfuls of Spanish moss that thickly wreathed a near-by blackjack thicket. When their legs were covered with this they were warm enough, but now found it increasingly difficult to sit upright and alert. Soon drowsiness overcame July, his head dropped on his breast and he began to snore. Ted roused him several times only to see him relapse into insensibility a few moments later.

Soon Hubert also was asleep, and, after watching for perhaps an hour longer, Ted himself succ.u.mbed. Later, as he struggled to rouse himself and opened his eyes, he saw that the moon was low and concluded that all was well. As he drifted back toward dreamland he thought he heard a yelp or two from distant dogs, but was too benumbed by drowsiness to give heed. Possibly the dogs of the far camp had started on the trail of some animal, but what could this matter to the three sleepers under the pine?

This half-thought itself was soon gone and the boy lay still, undisturbed by even a dream.

When Ted awoke it was daylight, and the dogs were leaping about him and barking. Several men were at hand, too; and the one nearest, who looked down at the sleepers with a triumphant grin, was Sweet Jackson.

They were caught! And what else could they have expected? The events of the night leaped forth from the boy's memory to shame him. If only they had not been such cowards and sleepyheads!

"Don't hurt them boys! You can't blame 'em for tryin' to get away,"

called Mitch' Jenkins sharply, as Sweet Jackson began kicking July to wake him.

Ted hurriedly wakened Hubert and they both rose to their feet, turning away their indignant eyes from the severe kicking and cuffing bestowed upon July before he was allowed to rise.

"Thought you'd give us the slip along with them boys, did you?" shouted Sweet. "_I'll_ teach you to give notice before you quit yer job."

"He's got a right to go home and so have we," cried Ted indignantly.

"And some day you'll pay for this!"

"Shut up," cried Jackson, turning upon Ted--"if you want me to keep my hands off of you!"

"You let that boy alone," said Mitch' Jenkins, a distinct menace in his tone, and the bully subsided.

Then, being ordered to march and to "be quick about it," the prisoners started toward camp, Ted silent and thoughtful, Hubert crying softly, and July with a face of gloom. Their captors followed, laughing and jesting as they came.

When the camp was reached July proceeded to cook breakfast, as ordered, and the boys stood and watched as the slackers set about building a "prison"--a sort of pen of heavy saplings--in which they announced that the negro would hereafter be locked up at night. What disturbed all of the captives perhaps even more than this was the order given to July, with threats of punishment, to "keep away from them boys" in the day time.

The building of the prison-pen occupied the slackers until near noon, and, while they were waiting about camp for their dinner, Mitch' Jenkins proposed that they "knock off" work that afternoon and "have a little fun out of a gander-pulling." Jenkins had brought a live gander on his march into the swamp because, as he explained when he reached the camp, he had failed to lay hands on a couple of fat chickens.

"But we ain't got no horses nor no race track," objected Zack James.

"Oh, we'll just swing him up and run round and grab him on foot. It's been done that way. Anything for a little fun."

This proposal having been adopted, preparations for the sport were begun immediately after dinner. From the stout limbs of two neighboring trees branching out some six or eight feet apart a rope was loosely swung, and to this the gander's feet were securely tied, so that the fowl's neck hung within easy reach of a man of average height. Before the squawking bird was hung up its neck was thoroughly greased, both operations being strenuously objected to and jealously watched by Billy, who had already adopted the gander as one of his pets.

All hands having gathered at the spot, Jenkins, the leading spirit of the festivity, pa.s.sed round a hat and took up a collection of coins as a prize for the as yet unknown victor. The two boys, Billy and July formed the party of spectators, all the slackers, now only six in number, proposing to enter the contest. Lots having been drawn in order to determine who should have the first trial, the second, the third, and so on, Mitch' Jenkins announced the opening of the sport.

"Everything is lovely and the goose hangs high," he shouted.

"Gentlemen--let 'er go!"

Thereupon Sweet Jackson, who had drawn the first lot, took position about fifty feet away and at a given signal started forward at a rapid run. As he neared the swinging gander, his right hand was thrust upward, and he endeavored to seize the fowl by its neck. But in this he failed, the gander cunningly twisting its head out of reach.

A loud guffaw went up from the on-looking slackers as this signal failure was witnessed. Jim Carter then ran forward and grasped at the neck of the swinging fowl with no better success. The turn of Zack James followed. He succeeded in seizing the gander's neck, and, but for the treacherous grease, its head would have accompanied him in his onward rush. Released, the unhappy bird swung back and forth, hissing and squawking in an extremely ludicrous yet pathetic manner, exciting the laughter of the slackers, the pity of the boys and the angry protest of Billy.

"Quit it! Quit it, I tell you! You-all let my gander alone!" cried the witless young man again and again as the contest continued.

Once he ran forward and tried to take the fowl down, but retired, whimpering, on receiving a resounding box on the ear from Jackson.

After all hands had made several trials and the gander's greasy neck had received a number of rude wrenches, the poor fowl held its head less high, ceased to hiss, and squawked more plaintively than ever. The game was easier now, and almost every contestant succeeded in grasping the neck as he ran past, but always failed to retain his hold.

At last, after the contest had continued for more than an hour and a half, and the object of the cruel sport had almost ceased to make any outcry whatever, Zack James leaped upward as he ran by and grasped the neck of the fowl near its breast. As his body was carried onward by the force of its momentum, his tightly gripped hand slipped rapidly along the gander's neck, but paused at its head. For one moment the man's body swung from the ground, his whole weight supported by the neck of the still living fowl. It was then that he gave his hand a vigorous twist.

The next moment he pitched forward on his feet, carrying the gander's head in his grasp.

At this moment Ted seized the opportunity offered by the universal preoccupation of the slackers to speak earnestly to Hubert. In spite of their disapproval of such cruel sport, both boys had been absorbingly interested in the contest, but now Ted's thoughts returned to the problem of escape from Deserters' Island. Declaring that another attempt should be made that night, he urged Hubert to be watchful and ready.

Then, stepping cautiously to the side of the negro, whose eyes were fastened on the now noisily disputing slackers, the boy said: