"We must try it again to-night, July."

"Don' know 'bout dat," said the negro doubtfully. "Better wait. Dey'll be watchin' us too close."

"That's it; they won't be expecting it to-night, and that's the very reason we ought to have a good chance."

This view of the matter promptly appealed to the negro, who ceased to object and listened attentively to the boy's suggestions.

"Get ready on the sly," urged Ted. "Put a bucket of food where you can lay your hands on it, and late in the night we'll slip out of the loft and let you out of your pen."

"All right, Cap'n Ted; I'll be ready, an' if I's sleep, des gimme a punch in de ribs."

Then they moved quickly away from each other and gave their attention to the loudly contending slackers.

"And _I_ say Mr. James gits the prize," cried Mitch' Jenkins.

He detached himself from a noisy group as he spoke, stepped to the side of the waiting victor and poured the collection of coins into his hand.

"He didn't git it fair," declared Sweet Jackson, in loud, angry tones.

"Who _can't_ wring off a gander's neck if he swings on to it that-a way?"

"We all had the same chance to do what he did," argued Jenkins, good-humoredly. "The trouble was we couldn't keep our grip."

"I say hit wan't done fair!" repeated Jackson, in great anger.

Flushed with victory, James did not pause to calculate consequences and now gave his accuser the lie, which, in local parlance, was equivalent to the "first lick."

Sweet Jackson's face turned livid, and, whipping out a large pocket-knife, he leaped toward James. Almost at the same instant Jenkins and Carter sprang toward Jackson from opposite sides, but the uplifted blade descended before James had protected himself and ere the interference was made fully effective. Although Jackson's arm was seized, the point of the knife deeply grazed the left cheek of the prize-winner. A moment later the staring spectators noted a rapidly expanding streak of red. The murderous but fortunately arrested blow had done only slight damage, yet the free flow of blood imparted a harsh and startling reality to the forbidding scene, the horror of which was intensified by the effect on Billy.

"Oh, yes, Zack James, see now what you got for pullin' off my gander's head!" cried the witless young man triumphantly, capering about and giggling. "See what you got now! I wish my gander knowed it. I'll bet he does know, too. Anyhow he'll know by and by and he'll laugh. He'll have a good laugh."

"Stop that!" commanded Jenkins, turning a shocked and stern face toward the untimely merrymaker.

Then Billy subsided, watching as silently as the other spectators while Jackson was forced away in one direction and James in the other, both cursing with great fury, and each vowing that he would take the life of the other.

XVI

The two boys and the negro remained motionless in their places, wondering what would happen next, until Billy cut down the body of the headless gander and was about to bear it away. Then July interfered.

"Gim-me dat gander, boy," he said, laughing. "Quit yer foolin' an' gwine on. We got to hab dat gander for supper."

James now sat with his back to a pine, and Jenkins was bending over him and wiping away the blood with a wet handkerchief. The latter, seeing that the cut was little more than a painful scratch, began to jest and laugh, the atmosphere of tragedy being thus quickly dispersed. Having salved the wound, predicting a speedy healing, Jenkins turned to seek Jackson and "give him a talking to." The "knife-slinger" was pointedly informed that if he wanted to have a single friend left in the camp, he had better keep a grip on himself in future. Listening to this forcible utterance of common sense, Jackson rapidly cooled down, ceasing his profane and threatening speeches.

And so, in spite of the violent termination of the festive gander-pulling, the slackers soon recovered their wonted spirits. After supper, with the exception of the wounded man who went immediately to bed, they sat about the fire and joked, sang corn-shucking songs, and drank corn-beer, in the greatest possible good humor.

But July smiled covertly and shook his head, as soon as he found opportunity thus forcibly expressing himself:

"Look yuh, Cap'n Ted, I got to git away fum dis place befo' somebody draw a knife on me an' cut my throat."

"We'll get away to-night," said the boy confidently.

"We got a good chance," a.s.sented July. "After all dat jollification dem mens'll sleep hard, cep'n it's Mr. James wid dat cut face. You better look out for _him_. You better not move a foot till 'way late 'bout two o'clock."

Hubert fell asleep soon after they had lain down on their bed of moss in the corner of the loft, but Ted lay awake for hours, listening and waiting. He had been rendered the more anxious by a suggestion that was made as the slackers were taking off their shoes and preparing to lie down.

"Don't you reckon we'd better tie them boys?" proposed Sweet Jackson.

"Oh, no," answered the more humane Jenkins. "They've had their lesson."

Jackson did not seem to think it necessary to insist and the boys were left in freedom of hand and foot, to their great relief. But the restlessness of James was a continuing source of apprehension, his smarting face causing him to turn frequently with a grunt or sigh or muttered exclamation of annoyance.

At last Ted began to fear that there was no hope of stealing out of the loft that night, and in the midst of his discouragement sleep overtook him.

When he awoke all was quiet, except for the snoring of several of the men. Zack James, who had been restless so long, now lay still and made no sound. Ted did not know why, but he felt convinced that it was near morning. Lifting himself guardedly upon his knees, he bent over his sleeping cousin, shook him and whispered in his ear.

Hubert stirred sleepily and began a stupid muttering in a voice seemingly so loud that Ted was terrified, allowing the boy to relapse into slumber. After listening intently and hearing no disturbance, Ted tried again and this time roused Hubert to complete wakefulness without noise.

The two then crept along the wall until they stood opposite the hole in the floor. As they did this, Ted, who led the way, stumbled over an outstretched foot and narrowly escaped falling. The disturbed sleeper grunted, muttered a few unintelligible words, turned over, and all was quiet again. Just as the boys were preparing to swing themselves down through the opening, not daring to put down the ladder, one of the sleepers stirred noisily, and they heard the voice of James demanding:

"Who's that?"

Drawing back into the deep shadow, the boys stood silent, holding their very breath. The challenge was repeated. Then, for perhaps a quarter of an hour, Ted and Hubert stood in their tracks, hardly moving a muscle, breathing softly, and fearing that even the beating of their hearts would be heard.

Convinced at last that the wounded man had relapsed into slumber, they noiselessly swung themselves down through the opening and dropped softly to the ground below. Several dogs, lying asleep beneath the loft, rose and followed the boys with signs of great cheerfulness, evidently antic.i.p.ating a night hunt.

The first need was to "turn July out," as Hubert put it. This consisted merely in lifting away the heavy section of a log braced against the makeshift door of the prison-pen, and was soon accomplished without noise. July came forth, rubbing his eyes, and whispering:

"I clean give you out an' went to sleep. It's mose daylight," he added, "an' we better be gwine quick."

"Let's take the dogs, so that they can't use 'em to track us," suggested Ted. "We can make 'em come back after we get a good start of five or six miles. I wish I could keep Spot," he added, referring to the dog that had so devotedly battled with the panther.

July agreed to this, and the dogs were called softly. The whole pack, five in number, followed gladly, as the boys and the negro hurried away from the camp. It had been decided on the evening before to take the jungle trail leading from the lower end of Deserters' Island, and they now moved in that direction. The intervening miles of high pine land were covered with the greatest possible speed. Wherever the ground was sufficiently open they ran, and even in the brush they pushed forward rapidly, careless of scratched hands and faces or torn clothing.

Faint light filtered through the treetops from the whitening sky before they had traversed half the length of the island, and by the time they reached its limit birds on every hand were singing their welcome to the arrival of a new day. The fugitives now observed with considerable concern that the dogs had disappeared, surmising that they had recognized the difference between a flight and a hunt and in consequence had returned to camp.

They soon found the trail and hurried down into the jungle, careless of the mud and water, the th.o.r.n.y brambles, the possible moccasins. They knew that within an hour's time the pursuit would begin and recognized the need of great haste at any cost.

July, who led the way, paused suddenly; and, opening the tin bucket carried on his arm, urged the boys to take some of the sandwiches therein and stuff them in their pockets.

"May be hard to keep togedder when dey come at' us wid de dawgs," he said,--adding: "But if you boys git lost fum me, you keep gwine on by yo'self till you git out de swamp an' find yo' way home."

Pressing on with the utmost energy for an hour longer, and not as yet hearing any sounds indicating pursuit, they began to feel more secure; and soon, at the urgent suggestion of Hubert, they sat down on a log to refresh themselves with some of the cold food while resting their wearying legs.

"We got to be gwine!" cried July less than fifteen minutes later.