Ted now perceived that he was in peril. It was too late to hurry on the trail of Hubert, for the noise and leafy commotion inevitably accompanying his pa.s.sage from tree to tree would at once attract attention. Doubtless Hubert was far enough away to be reasonably safe and could for the time be left to take care of himself. At all events Ted realized that his own safety could be his only immediate concern, and that it was necessary not only to keep quiet but to hide.

Therefore, without a moment's delay, he moved guardedly out on the bending limb, leaned forward and grasped the sides of the cypress's hollow, which fortunately proved to be firm. Drawing himself up quietly, he thrust his feet through the opening and slid into the hollow with but little noise. As he did so, a large squirrel whisked past him with a frightened squeak and scurried wildly up the sides of the cypress.

"I never saw such a piece of good luck," Ted declared afterward, relating that the hollow was neither too big nor too little, and that his feet landed on a firm bottom just far enough below the opening to permit him to stand comfortably and look out.

But when he looked out he could see little more than the foliage of the water-oak. He listened intently as the slackers waded across the pool.

He hoped that they would turn aside, but they seemed to come straight on. A few moments later the dogs made a noisy rush and he heard them barking excitedly immediately beneath the cypress. Convinced that he had been scented and was now "treed," the boy feared that one of the slackers would promptly climb up and drag him from his hiding place.

But he kept quiet and still hoped for some fortunate turn of events.

Tempted to lean out and look down, he drew his head back quickly and almost held his breath. He had glimpsed two men tramping around in the shallow water beneath the oak and looking up into its branches.

Evidently the opening in the side of the cypress had not yet been discovered, as there was no triumphant outcry, and at this thought Ted felt somewhat encouraged. He now heard the impatient voice of Carter:

"_I_ don't see nothin'. What's the matter with them dogs anyhow?"

Then came the voice of July, speaking at a greater distance:

"Look at dat fox-squirrel!--skippin' round 'way up in de top o' dat cypress! Dat's what ail de dawgs."

Ted blessed the squirrel for the good service it had evidently performed by changing its position and immediately attracting the eye of those below because of the cypress's characteristically thin leaf.a.ge.

"I reckon that's it," said Garter.

"It sho is," insisted July, "for dem boys is a fur ways fum yuh des like I tole you."

"Don't care how fur--I'll git 'em 'fore I quit," the angry voice of Sweet Jackson was then heard.

"Drive them dogs away from there and come on."

The dogs were called off, the voices became only a faint murmur, the noisy tramping through water subsided, and soon the ordinary quiet of the forest reigned. Recovering his wonted spirits, Ted laughed softly, but remained motionless for twenty minutes or more. He would have waited still longer but for his anxiety in regard to the whereabouts and fate of Hubert.

Climbing out of the hollow, he let himself down into the shallow water beneath the oak and whistled softly. He whistled again a little more loudly, and was then immensely gratified to receive a cautious response.

Whistling softly, the boys approached each other and soon stood face to face. Then each quickly told his story.

"Yes, I heard 'em," said Hubert, "and I was almost too scared to breathe. I stayed up in my tree as quiet as a mouse. I was awfully afraid they'd get you as well as July."

They hurried on their way as they talked, and soon left the neighborhood far behind. It was now midday and, being no longer in fear of immediate capture, the boys had leisure to discover that they were tired as well as hungry. So they stopped to rest and eat what remained of the cold bread and meat given them by July. But they knew that there was no time to be lost and within less than half an hour they were pushing forward again.

Soon after they had penetrated the jungle that morning, the trail gradually faded away until July doubted whether they had found the right one in the first place; and, after the dogs were heard on their track, the negro made no further effort to follow it, but pushed ahead in the general direction taken, choosing the most open and pa.s.sable ground.

This was Ted's plan now.

Toward mid-afternoon the ground began slowly to rise before them, and the forest growth to become less dense, until finally they emerged from the jungle region altogether and found themselves on an open pine ridge where the ground was covered with wiregra.s.s and dotted with clumps of fan-palmettoes. They believed they were now, at last, clear of the great swamp, but tramped on without any exchange of congratulatory exclamations, not daring to jubilate too soon.

"This looks like the outside," was all Hubert said, and Ted merely admitted: "It looks good to me."

"I smell smoke," said Hubert a few minutes later.

They had now tramped out into the open pine woods some half a mile, and the wind blowing into their faces wafted a distinctly smoky odor, suggesting a forest fire. The probability of this was shortly confirmed by the sight of fleeing birds, and here and there an animal, as a deer, a fox or a skunk making rapidly toward the flooded swamp area.

"Somebody must be burnin' off the woods for the cattle," said Ted, elated. "If that's it, we are certainly out of the swamp at last."

He referred to the common practice in the region bordering the Okefinokee of firing the woods in spring in order to destroy the year's crop of tough wiregra.s.s and so give place to a tender green growth on which the cattle might feed to better advantage.

In no great while the boys could see the fire itself here and there, and ere long they were confronted by an unbroken barrier of flame extending across the whole ridge. Their position was becoming dangerous, and Ted looked around in some anxiety. The swamp half a mile behind was a certain refuge, and he believed that they could reach it ahead of the fire, but he was reluctant to turn back. While hesitating, his eye fell upon a small cypress pond some three hundred yards to the left, and, calling on Hubert to follow, he started toward it on a run.

Ted felt confident that, even if there were no water in the pond, the fire would not burn through it. "Pond" is hardly an accurate description of these little groves of a dozen or two of cypresses so frequently found in the pine barrens, although they are always on low, swampy ground, which in wet weather is likely to be covered with a foot or two of water. A small pool about twenty feet in diameter lingered in the center of this one, but the boys did not wade into it. As soon as they stood among the cypress "knees" and trod upon spongy ground covered with damp pine needles they felt safe.

During a few minutes hot and almost stifling smoke filled the surrounding atmosphere, but the fire itself merely burned round the edges of the pond and then pa.s.sed on its roaring way, the wind soon carrying off the smoke also. After waiting some little time for the ashes of the burnt gra.s.s to cool, the boys came out of their retreat and picked their way across the blackened ground. The wiregra.s.s had entirely disappeared before the flames, but the tall pines, the scrub-oaks and the clumps of fan-palmettos stood for the most part intact. Here and there some fallen and well-seasoned log still burned vigorously, and in a few instances fire had run up on the oozing sap to the tops of the tallest trees.

Ted and Hubert tramped over the blackened and heated earth about a mile and a half, always hoping soon to see the clearing and log house of some backwoods settler. But when at last they reached a "hammock" growth and descended through it to the borders of a vast "prairie" or marsh, in every respect similar to the one adjoining Deserters' Island, this pleasing hope became a sigh of regret.

It was now quite clear that they were still within the borders of the great Okefinokee, and that they had just traversed one of its islands or areas of elevated land. The origin of the fire puzzled Ted at first, but he concluded that some of the slackers, or hunters from the outside, had recently been there and had neglected to extinguish or clear a s.p.a.ce about their camp-fire.

"It's going to rain," said Ted, looking up at the darkening sky, "and we'd better fix our camp right away."

A favorable spot on the outskirts of the hammock was chosen, and they hurriedly erected a "brush tent," or lean-to, similar to those they had heard the slackers speak of building when too far away to return to camp for the night. When the fugitives began their tree-top retreat that morning, July had relieved Hubert of his gun and given the boy his hatchet in exchange. With the hatchet the boys now cut down a slender sapling which they tied at each end with bear-gra.s.s thongs to two small trees about ten feet apart. Against this cross-bar, which was about four feet from the ground, eight or ten other cut saplings were leaned at an angle of about forty-five degrees and less than a foot apart. Over these were then arranged about a hundred palmetto fans cut within a few feet of the spot, thus forming a thatch which was protected against gusts of wind by two or three other saplings laid diagonally across. They thus secured a fairly good shelter and were sure of sleeping dry unless the wind changed and blew into the open front instead of against the thatch at the back.

It was nearly dark when the work was finished, but it had not yet begun to rain. While Hubert now gathered wood for their camp-fire, Ted took his gun and stole off into the woods, hoping to shoot something for supper. He had not gone very far when a fluttering and dimly outlined forms on a high limb of a tall bay tree indicated a "turkey roost."

Taking careful aim, he fired, and then, amid the noisy flap of wings as the wild fowl scattered, he thought he heard a soft thud on the ground beneath the "roost." Running to the foot of the bay tree, he was delighted to find that he had bagged a plump turkey-hen.

Some Spanish moss having been gathered and spread on the ground in the acute angle of the lean-to, and portions of the turkey having been broiled with fair success on glowing coals raked out of the fire, the boys satisfied their hunger and lay down with a feeling of comfort which hardly seemed in keeping with their continuing misfortunes, and which was not lessened by the harmless patter of the rain-drops on the thatch over their heads.

"I hope a bear won't come along and knock our shelter down," remarked Hubert a few minutes after they lay down.

There was no real apprehension in his tone, the first nervousness inseparable from sleeping in the remote woods of the Okefinokee having by this time disappeared even in his case. Ted stretched his limbs, yawned, and made no reply; but a few minutes later he said:

"You remember Uncle Walter saying the night before he left for Washington that the experts thought the war would last about three years? If it does, we'll be about old enough to go in--if we volunteer, and I will."

"I wouldn't mind an old-fashioned war, with fighting in the open in the old way," said Hubert, after a moment's thought. "But that hard and dirty trench fighting, the terrible big new cannon, the poison gas, and all the devilish doings of the Germans--it sort of gets on my nerves."

"We'd get used to it," said Ted. "And to go in is the only thing to do.

You remember the Greek mythology tale about how the new race of G.o.ds knocked out and gave the hideous and terrible Cyclops their finish, fastening them down under great rocks? The Germans and their deviltry make me think of the Cyclops, and they've got to be put down in something of the same sort of way, or the world won't be safe for anybody. It's like going out after mad dogs. It's dangerous, and you don't like it, but you've got to do it."

Hubert's thoughtful silence admitted the correctness of Ted's view.

After some minutes without speech the younger boy asked:

"Ted, what are you thinking about?"

"I was thinking that even if the slackers did catch us and take us back to Deserters' Island, maybe it would be for the best, after all," said Ted. "You see, I might make a friend of Mr. Jenkins--there's something nice about him--and maybe I might get him interested in the war and persuade him to go out----"

"Well, you are _the limit_!" exclaimed Hubert, in disgust.

Then he turned over, refusing to talk any more, and soon fell asleep.

XVIII