He had sprung to his feet as the distant baying of dogs fell on his ear.

All knew at once that the slackers were again on their trail and that there was no time to lose.

Again the negro led the way, taking new precautions and urging the boys to do precisely as he did. As he dashed forward over the difficult ground, he jumped from tussock to tussock, stepped upon roots and ma.s.ses of dry moss, and avoided every bit of soft exposed earth where a track would remain imprinted. Whenever a fallen log ran parallel with their course, he sprang upon it and walked its full length. Once he made a complete circle, two hundred yards or more in diameter; then, springing upon a fallen log several feet beyond the limits of this circle, and directing the boys to do likewise, he pressed forward again over the direct course.

All this was intended to confuse and delay the dogs, if it did not throw them off the scent altogether; but in no great while it appeared to have succeeded only in a small measure. For the baying, instead of gradually fading away in the distance as desired, after ceasing for a time became more vigorous than ever and unmistakably drew nearer. Soon July halted, looked round, and waited for the boys to overtake him.

"Dem dawgs'll be yuh in no time," he said, discouraged.

"Will they bite us?" asked Hubert apprehensively.

"No; they know us," said Ted. "We could shoot them," he added, facing the negro, a question in his tone. "I'd hate to do it, and I don't think I _could_ shoot Spot, but we have a right to do it."

Ted and Hubert carried their small guns. The negro was armed only with a hatchet and a heavy butcher-knife, the blade of which gleamed brightly where it stuck in his belt.

"Better let me go for 'em wid de hatchet or dis knife," said July, shaking his head. "Soon's you shoot dem mens'll know 'zackly where we is."

Further discussion was checked by the warning of a yelp very close in their rear. Bidding the boys conceal themselves, July ran back a few yards over the trail and took his stand behind a large tree trunk.

As the foremost dog was about to trot past, the negro leaned over and dealt it a terrific blow on the head with the b.u.t.t end of the hatchet, breaking through its skull. With a stifled cry in its throat, the dog rolled over and lay in the struggle of approaching death, whereupon the four others coming up shied away from the unseen danger and took to their heels on the backward track with yelps of affright.

After Ted had gladly taken note that the slain dog was not Spot, the three fugitives hurried onward as before, and for an hour they heard nothing more from the dogs. Finally a subdued and, as it seemed, m.u.f.fled yelp began to be heard at intervals. July looked puzzled and several times paused to listen, showing great anxiety when he became convinced that the sounds were drawing nearer. At last he said he believed that the slackers held the dogs in leash, their object being to steal upon the unsuspecting fugitives while they halted to rest in fancied security.

"If we ain't quick dey'll nab us befo' we know it," the negro concluded.

"Can't we put the dogs off the scent in some way?" asked Ted, looking about him.

They were now in a dense growth of water-oaks and other trees, gay with the full green leaf.a.ge of spring; and some little distance ahead water could be seen.

"I believe we could climb up and swing from limb to limb until we got out yonder over that water," eagerly proposed Ted. "Then we could drop down and wade as far as the water went, then climb up again, and, if the trees keep thick enough, go quite a long way. _That_ would break the trail."

"It sho will," a.s.sented July, "if only we kin do it. May be easy for you light boys, but hit won't be so easy for me."

"Let's try it anyhow," urged Ted, and they at once began preparations.

By means of stout twine, much of which they had fortunately stuffed into their pockets, Ted securely strapped his gun on his back. July having disposed of Hubert's gun and his own bucket in the same way, giving Hubert the hatchet in exchange, and all now having arms as well as legs free, they began to climb.

For once, Hubert led the way. Lifting himself among the larger branches of a spreading water-oak, he found it comparatively easy to walk out on a lower limb--while grasping a higher--until he could lay hold of an interlacing branch and swing himself safely among the larger arms of a neighboring tree. Repeating this performance, he pa.s.sed on from tree to tree.

Ted followed readily enough, for, though older, he was no heavier than Hubert, and was even more active; but he lingered behind to watch and softly encourage July. Because of his far greater weight and the bending of the branches beneath him, the negro might well hesitate and move cautiously. He soon saw that his only hope was in a bold leap into the branches of the neighboring tree, trusting to his quick, firm grasp to arrest his descent to the ground.

The sound of a m.u.f.fled yelp from the dogs, unmistakably coming from a point only a short distance away, spurred July on, and he took the dangerous leap, landing among the stout branches of the neighboring tree unharmed save for scratches and bruises which he scarcely felt.

"You can do it," Ted called back softly, by way of encouragement. "Come on as fast as you can."

"Don't wait on me," said July. "I'll git dere bimeby. You boys hurry on."

So Ted followed faster on the track of Hubert. Within a few minutes from the start the boys had transported themselves more than a hundred yards without setting foot on the ground and were soon over the water. They then let themselves down, waded knee-deep some fifty yards among scattering cypress trees, grasped a low limb of another water-oak, swung themselves up and were once more traveling, monkey-like, aloft.

"You go ahead, Hubert," said Ted. "I'll wait here till I see July coming."

Hubert went on and Ted waited. But he waited in vain, for July was in trouble. After leaping successfully three or four times, at last--while the boys were wading across the cypress pool--July failed to gain a firm hold of the branches through which his heavy body descended, and, though his fall was broken by the leafy obstructions, he struck the ground with great force and was for a few moments partially stunned.

A sudden yelping of the dogs now very close at hand roused him to action. Struggling to his feet, he laid hold of the tree into which he had attempted to jump, and climbed with some difficulty into its branches. The unfortunate negro saw that it was now too late to jump again, even if he dared to do so, badly shaken as he was, and that his forlorn and only resource was to conceal himself as best he could in the higher foliage of the tree.

Scarcely had the trembling of the leaves and branches subsided when the pursuers were heard very near at hand, July promptly recognizing the voices of Sweet Jackson, Jim Carter and two other men belonging to the camp. They held the dogs in leash, as the negro had suspected, but were marching with the greatest possible speed. Reaching the point where the trail came to an end, the dogs one and all halted, snuffing the air in a mystified way, and could hardly be forced forward.

"They must be round h-yer some'rs," the harsh voice of Sweet Jackson declared.

"Mebby they tuck a tree," suggested Carter.

A silence followed, and July understood only too well that the members of the party had separated and were scanning the neighboring treetops.

Suddenly one of the dogs began to bay immediately beneath him, and a few moments later the triumphant voice of Carter was heard:

"H-yer's one of 'em up this tree!"

XVII

The dog had snuffed the spot where he fell to the ground, and poor July was discovered.

"It's the n.i.g.g.e.r," announced Carter after a few moments.

"Shoot 'im if he don't git down from there quick," cried Jackson, savagely.

Instantly the branches of the water-oak began to tremble, and July descended with all speed.

"Now where's them boys?" demanded his captors.

"I dun-know where dey is."

Curses greeted this denial, and Jackson threatened to "break every bone"

in the negro's body if he did not reveal the hiding place of the boys at once.

"I tell you I dun-know," insisted July, determined to prevent the capture of his young confederates if he could possibly do so. "All I know is," he lied boldly, "dey got lost fum me 'way back yonder where we fout de dawgs."

Abusive exclamations of incredulity were supplemented by Carter with the warning:

"That was Rafe Wheeler's dog you killed, and I reckon he'll make you see sights before he's done with you."

July knew that there was trouble ahead of him in any case, and as he obediently followed his captors while they beat the neighboring bush, endeavoring in vain to start the dogs on the scent, he stuck to his story, unblushingly inventing incidents with a view to impart to it an atmosphere of convincing reality.

As Ted waited and watched for July, he noted that the spreading branches of the water-oak embraced the trunk of an immense old decaying cypress, and that there was a circular opening in its side a foot or two above him and only a few feet away. Plainly there was a large hollow--possibly the result of some past forest fire--for the opening was at least two feet in diameter. He saw also that, by moving a foot or two nearer on the limb supporting his weight, he could grasp the sides of the opening and perhaps enter the hollow.

He now heard the murmur of voices and listened intently, fearing that the pursuers had arrived and put an end to July's chances of escape. The voices grew louder, and then the tramp of feet was heard, but still Ted lingered, owing both to his concern for July's safety and his eagerness to know the definite issue.

Then, before he realized that they were so near, the slackers appeared with the dogs and July himself on the other side of the cypress pool and began to wade across.