The Boy Chums In The Forest Part 17

One of the guards tossed restlessly and woke up cursing. "Shut up that whistling," he shouted, "that blooming thing gets on my nerves."

Walter had no option but to obey, but the awesome tune had carried its doleful message. The mournful notes had reached the ears of the wounded lad in the canoe. Its message was plain to him. Walter was a captive, or in great danger. And now began a contest between will-power and pain and weakness from which many a man would have shrunken.

Three times Charley struggled to rise to his feet, only to sink back exhausted with great beads of sweat standing out on his brow. At last, abandoning the attempt, he began to wriggle back towards the stern of the canoe. His progress was slow and painful, and even in the short distance to be covered, he had often to lay quiet and rest. At last he succeeded in reaching the stern, but here his difficulties were by no means ended. Working awkwardly with his left hand he managed to draw his hunting-knife and slash open the pack of provisions they had brought with them. From these he selected a can of milk. It was slow work opening it with one hand, but at last he succeeded in removing the top. Part of the contents he swallowed as it was, the balance he diluted with water and broke hardtack up in it. By the time he had finished the food, a little color had crept back into his face. He was still very weak, however, and another attempt to rise met with failure.

For a few minutes he lay quiet thinking, then rummaging in the pack he brought forth a pint bottle of brandy. With repugnance written on his face, he took several swallows of the fiery liquor. It ran through his veins like fire. Shoving the bottle into his pocket, he succeeded in staggering to his feet and slowly pulled himself up on one of the mangrove's roots, and, pausing frequently to rest, gradually worked his way to the sh.o.r.e.

Walter's captors slept heavily until the noon hour, when they awoke, stirred up the fire, and prepared some dinner; but they offered none of it to the unfortunate lad, who watched its preparation with hungry eyes. Their repast finished, the two ruffians enjoyed a long smoke, after which they played a few games of cards which ended in a violent dispute that nearly resulted in blows.

As the afternoon wore on without the appearance of the party they were expecting, they again composed themselves to slumber. Slowly the afternoon wore away and the two outlaws still slept on. The sun went down and night began to fall and still the two showed no signs of awakening.

Suddenly Walter felt the bonds that held him slip to the ground and Charley's voice whispered, "Drop on all fours, Walt, and work your way back into the thicket."

Walter did as he was bid as quickly as his stiffened limbs would permit and soon caught up with his chum, who had begun to retrace his steps as soon as he had severed the captive's bonds. In fact, he dared not wait or tarry, for the false strength engendered by the brandy was fast leaving him. To give out on the way would be fatal to both. He must reach the canoe before the last remnant of his strength gave out or all was lost.

Slowly the two boys wormed their way through the jungle, expecting every second to hear the sounds that would indicate that the prisoner was missed and pursuit begun.

At last they reached the clump of mangroves that concealed the canoe.

Here outraged nature claimed its due and Charley sank on the edge of the sh.o.r.e unable to go further. It required nearly all of Walter's remaining strength to drag his insensible chum over the roots and lower him into the canoe. Precious as was each moment lost, Charley demanded instant attention, his wound had broken open again from his exertions and his tattered s.h.i.+rt was wet with blood. Walter stuffed bits of cloth into the hole and bound it up as well as he could in the darkness. This labor completed, he cast loose the canoe, and with a few strokes of the paddle sent her over to the other side of the stream. Here he laid aside his paddle and sank back to rest and think.

The friendly darkness completely hid them from the gaze of anyone on the point. Until the moon rose they were as safe there as any place on the river. The plucky lad sorely needed rest and refreshment. For two days and a night he had been without sleep and for twenty-four hours without food. This, with the strenuous labor and excitement through which he had pa.s.sed, had rendered him nearly as weak as his unconscious companion. Sleep was out of the question until they were safe from their enemies, but food was handy and he lost no time in making a hearty meal on a can of corned beef, crackers and a tin of milk. The repast brought fresh strength and courage, although his head felt very heavy and he could hardly keep his eyes open.

With the outlaws ahead and behind them, there was little choice of the direction in which they should flee, and Walter paddled steadily on up the river, keeping close to the opposite sh.o.r.e from the convicts.

Hour after hour pa.s.sed and found him still paddling wearily onward, every muscle and nerve in his body aching with fatigue. At last a brightening of the sky in the east warned him of the rising of the moon. As its bright beams lit up the gloomy river and desolate marshes, Walter gave a cry of joy; directly ahead, right in the middle of the stream, lay a small island, its sh.o.r.es fringed with a dense growth of mangroves. As the canoe drew nearer, Walter surveyed it with increasing delight. Here was surely a safe place of refuge where they might stay as long as their provisions lasted and until their enemies tired of the pursuit. Where the island lay, the river had widened out into a fair sized lake and the nearest sh.o.r.e was out of gunshot. There was no way that the outlaws could reach them except by boat, and they had none with them.

With lightened heart, Walter ran the canoe far up into the mangroves and fastened it securely to a large root. Making his way ash.o.r.e he soon found a small s.p.a.ce of cleared ground, to which he speedily conveyed their blankets which he spread out on the dry sand. Returning to the boat he endeavored in vain to rouse Charley from the stupor into which he had fallen. At last he gave up the attempt and half carried and half dragged his chum ash.o.r.e and laid him on his blanket, then quickly stretching himself out by his side, was soon fast asleep.

Once in the night Walter was awakened by a loud splas.h.i.+ng. With pistol in hand he stole to the water's edge. Many dark ma.s.ses were slowly gliding to and fro on the surface of the stream. "Alligators," he exclaimed with a sigh of relief and returned to his blanket and sleep, from which he was only aroused again by the rising of the sun.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE SWAMP.

Walter's first thought on awakening was for his chum. Charley was tossing restlessly on his blanket, his face and hands flushed and hot with fever. All of Walter's attempts to rouse him met only with unintelligible words and phrases. The exertion of the previous day in his weak state, the opening of his wound afresh, and the unhealthy river water he had drank, had all combined to bring him to a dangerous condition.

Walter removed the bandages and looked at the wound. It was of an angry red and greatly swollen, and its changed appearance frightened him. "Charley," he called, shaking him gently, "don't you know me?"

Reason gleamed for a moment in the sufferer's eyes. "Sure, it's Walt,"

he muttered.

"Listen and do try to understand," begged Walter, earnestly. "We are safe, Charley. The convicts cannot get at us now. We can stay here and rest up as long as we want to and you can lay quiet and get well again. Now, I am going to light a fire and get you some broth and strong coffee, and, after you have taken them, I am going to heat some water and give that wound a good cleansing. Do you understand, old chap?"

"Yes," murmured the sufferer, wearily.

After putting his own blanket under Charley's head for a pillow and making the sick lad as comfortable as possible, Walter began his preparations for breakfast. Selecting a spot where the ground seemed soft and free from roots, he dug a hole about two feet deep to contain his fire. It required only a few minutes to make one large enough for his purpose, and his next step was to bring up the provisions and cooking utensils from the canoe.

It was only a short distance to where the little craft lay moored amongst the mangroves and a few steps carried Walter to the spot, but on the edge of the bank he paused with a cry of surprise and dismay.

The canoe lay bottom side up in the water.

With the strength of despair, Walter succeeded in righting the overturned craft and pulled it up on sh.o.r.e where he quickly tipped the water out of it.

One glance at the interior confirmed his worst fears, nothing remained inside but the paddle, which had been wedged under the seats; provisions, guns, and ammunition were all gone.

Walter sank down on the bank in despair and buried his face in his hands. He understood now, the meaning of the splash he had heard during the night. A curious alligator had upset the light craft with its nose or a flirt of its powerful tail.

For a long time Walter sat silent and still, pondering on their now desperate situation. One fact stood out clear in the mind of the sorely tried and unhappy boy; they must, without delay, leave the island, which only a few hours before had promised them a safe and comfortable refuge. Their only chance lay in finding their friends before he became helpless from lack of food. It needed no great medical knowledge to tell him that Charley was fast sinking into a critical condition. Without food or proper medicine, the injured lad was not likely to last long and every moment they tarried on the island lessened their chances, which were already very slight, of escaping with their lives.

When he had arrived at this conclusion, Walter arose and made his way back to his companion, who was lying as he had left him, tossing restlessly from side to side.

"I'm sorry, Charley, but you'll have to wait a little longer for your broth," he said, cheerfully. "I have decided we had better waste no more time here but hurry on and catch the captain; he has medicines that will soon fix you up and make you all right again."

His explanation was wasted so far as Charley was concerned, for the wounded lad was beginning to rave in the delirium of fever. After a few unsuccessful attempts, Walter abandoned the effort to rouse him to consciousness, and, leaving him as he lay, proceeded to make ready for their departure. He cut a pile of small myrtle boughs which he carried down to the canoe and spread out upon the bottom and upon these he stretched their blankets, making a soft and comfortable bed for his chum to lie upon. Now came his hardest task, the getting of the sick boy down to, and aboard of, the canoe. Fortunately the hearty meal and rest of the night before had so far restored his strength, that he was able, by half carrying and half dragging him, to get Charley, at last, upon the bed prepared for him. Then pausing only long enough to get his breath again, Walter took his old place in the stern and paddled out into the stream, where he headed once more for the south, and with long, steady strokes sent their little craft flying towards the unknown.

As they slid over the water, leaving the miles rapidly behind them, Walter kept a sharp watch on either bank for signs of the outlaws.

That they were still hunting for him and his friends, he felt no doubt, but he cherished faint hopes that he had distanced them during the night. He consoled himself with the thought that even were they captured, death by a bullet would be far quicker and less painful than a slow, lingering death from fever and starvation.

All day the despairing lad paddled ahead, pausing only at noon for a brief s.p.a.ce to rest his wearied arms and drink sparingly of the river water, which, black and foul as it was, reeked with fever.

Charley, on his bed in the bow, tossed and muttered incessantly. Every once in a while, Walter would crawl forward and sprinkle cold water on the lad's hot face; it was all he could do to relieve the sufferer, whose ravings fell heavily on his anxious heart.

As the afternoon wore away, Walter's strength began to fail; the mental strain, steady work, the blistering sun, and lack of food, were fast telling on him. The temptation to stop and rest and sleep grew almost irresistible, but he bravely fought off the weakness. Their only hope lay in pus.h.i.+ng on and on until they found their friends or came out upon civilization. Whither the river led he knew not, but was in hopes that it might at last bring them out into a settled country. To stop now meant certain death.

As night settled down, his tired eyes caught the gleam of a fire on the sh.o.r.e not far ahead. A wild hope possessed him that it might prove to be the captain and his companions, but, warned by his previous experience, he approached the blaze cautiously.

Slowly he drifted in towards the fire, against which he could soon distinguish moving figures. At last, he approached near enough to recognize the forms against the bright firelight, and hope fled. It was another party of the outlaws, four in number, and, the disappointed lad swung the canoe around to the further sh.o.r.e and paddled safely past without being discovered.

The night pa.s.sed slowly away, and through the long hours the lad in the canoe urged it steadily forward into the darkness. His tired, aching brain was now possessed of but one thought, to paddle on, and on, and on. His hands had cramped to the paddle handle, and the strokes were feeble as a child's, but the blade still rose and fell regularly, and the canoe still moved slowly ahead.

Daybreak found him in the same position, the paddle still slowly moving, and his bloodshot, staring eyes still fixed ahead.

The rising sun brought him staggering to his feet, a cry of hope on his lips.

Dead ahead, and more than a mile away, the river disappeared in a great forest of strange-looking trees. Amongst its shelter might be found food and friends, thought Walter, and the hope gave him fresh courage and strength.

Before sinking back into his seat he carefully surveyed the further sh.o.r.e. His gaze was arrested at a point about a mile behind the canoe.

There for about a half mile, the sh.o.r.e lay comparatively clear of timber, very likely having been swept by fire at some time in the past.

It was not the character of the sh.o.r.e, however, that arrested Walter's attention. His gaze was fixed upon four objects moving swiftly across the open s.p.a.ce and headed towards him. It required no great reasoning to tell him that the four figures wore mounted outlaws and that they had sighted the canoe. It was to be a race between ponies and canoe, as to which should reach the forest first.

With the strength born of desperation, Walter forced the light canoe ahead. Behind him the riders spurred their ponies on at the top of their speed. Walter could see, by glancing over his shoulder from time to time, that the outlaws were steadily gaining, but the canoe was moving swiftly, also, and was rapidly drawing near to the strange forest, and Walter decided with a thrill of joy that the enemy would not arrive in time to cut him off from the shelter of the trees.

The outlaws were not slow to recognize this fact. Their rifles began to crack and the bullets to whistle around the canoe. Fortunately the motion of their mounts made their aim uncertain, and the bullets did but little damage, only one touching the canoe, and it pa.s.sed harmlessly through the side far above the water line. Before the pursuers could draw near enough to make their fire certain, the canoe had pa.s.sed in amongst the trees and the outlaws reined in their mounts swearing loudly.

As he neared it, Walter had watched the forest with growing amazement.

The river seemed to end at its edge, but as he drew closer the reason for the anxiety of the outlaws to prevent his entering it was plain.

No horse could travel through that dark, gloomy expanse. It was a floating forest. Great cypress and giant bays reared their mighty stems from the surface of black sc.u.mmy water. Amongst their boughs bloomed brilliant orchids and from limb to limb stretched tangled ma.s.ses of creeping vines and briers.