The Outdoor Chums on the Gulf Part 8

"Say! Shall we cook breakfast again on the sh.o.r.e?" called Will from on board the boat.

"We might as well. There will be plenty of occasions when we'll just have to do it aboard, and this fire seems cheerful like," replied Jerry.

Frank agreeing with him, they carried the necessary utensils ash.o.r.e, and preparations were begun looking toward the getting of a bounteous meal.

"Wonder how our good friend, Black George, feels this morning? h.e.l.lo!

We're going to have visitors, I see. Look what's coming down the river, boys!"

As Bluff spoke they ceased eating and turned to gaze upstream. A boat was advancing rapidly, with the aid of the current and a pair of stout ashen oars. Several men occupied the craft which was quite roomy.

"Say, they've got some dogs there. Ain't those bloodhounds, Frank?"

whispered Will, for the boat was now close by, the men craning their necks to look at the launch.

"I believe they are. Perhaps this is the sheriff on the run for our black friend, George," returned Frank.

"Oh! I hope not. I don't believe the poor chap is as dangerous as all that. I have an idea he's more sinned against than sinning," replied Will, who always looked on the better side of those he met, and hence was an easy mark for sharpers.

The men in the boat came ash.o.r.e. Our friends then saw that the dogs were of a black-and-tan color, with long ears, and the aspect that distinguishes bloodhounds.

"Mornin', neighbors. Takin' a trip down the river, I see. That's right.

Like to see youngsters enjyin' themselves. I'm the sheriff o' this heah county, an' these gentlemen is my deputies. We're a-lookin' fo' a desprit scoundrel thet hes been doin' heaps o' mischief 'round heah. His latest work was tuh rob the house o' a cotton planter named Davis, an' nigh about kill the old man. We want him, an' we're jest 'bout determined not tuh go back without the skunk. Don't s'pose yuh could 'a' set eyes on sech a pizen critter, gents?" said the leader.

He was a tall, lean man, with a hawklike nose and keen blue eyes. He wore a long frock coat, considerably the worse for wear, and this, with his slouch hat, gave him the appearance of a Western marshal, in the eyes of Jerry, at least.

"Who was this scoundrel?" asked Frank uneasily.

"His name is Bob Young, an' he's really the son o' a minister upcountry, but long ago his father cast him off as a scamp. He'll sure swing one o'

these days," replied the sheriff, looking keenly at Frank, as though he suspected he might know something that he wanted to hear.

"Then he's a white man?" asked the other quickly, and with evident relief.

"Sh.o.r.e he is, an' the toughest ever. Seen any sign o' him, stranger?"

"Not a thing. We had a c.o.o.n in camp last night, starving, and we fed him.

He was Black George, the man they ran out of town some time back,"

ventured Frank.

He saw that the dogs were nosing about, and feared lest they should set out on the trail of the poor wretch by mistake.

The sheriff laughed.

"Oh, our time's too valuable to fool away with that black trash. He ain't wuth shootin'. Come on, then, boys. Like tuh sit up with yuh, friends, an' have a snack, but we got to be on the move afore the trail below gits cold. Yuh see, we hed word 'bout Bob, an' we wanter git him this clip, sure. So-long, an' good luck! Thet thar is sure the boss little boat yuh got."

And presently the sheriff and his posse faded from view under the long streamers of hanging Spanish moss that overshadowed the river below.

"I'm just as glad. He gave me the creeps. That eye of his was fierce,"

said Will.

"Oh, that's because you've got a guilty conscience, I guess," laughed Jerry. "Now to me he was a picture of a strong character that would have made a good showing in our alb.u.m," and he looked severely at Will.

"Oh! What beastly luck! Why didn't I think of it in time? Another chance gone glimmering! I think you fellows are too mean for anything, not to remind me of these things in time. He would have embellished our alb.u.m handsomely--and those dogs, too! How picturesque bloodhounds are! I feel sick."

Will jumped up, s.n.a.t.c.hed his camera, and stalked off beyond the edge of the camp, as if to brood alone. Presently they heard him calling:

"Oh, Frank! Won't you come here for a minute? I'm just taking the picture of a big snake, and he's as angry as you please. There's a locust somewhere close by, too, keeping up a tremendous rattling. Please hurry!

He won't wait long!"

Frank, followed by Jerry, was off like a shot. His face turned white with sudden apprehension as he ran. Coming upon Will, kneeling there, and watching, he seized him by the shoulders and whirled him back, exclaiming:

"Why, you greenhorn, don't you know that's a diamond-back rattler, coiled up and ready to launch himself at you?"

CHAPTER VIII

WILL DOES IT

"Talk to me about babes in the woods!" gasped jerry.

He was staring at the enormous rattler, that still kept up a buzzing with his rattle, and which sound poor Will had believed was made by a locust.

"Shoot the thing, Jerry! You've been wise enough to fetch your gun!" said Frank.

"That just suits me. Have you got all the snapshots you want, Will?"

demanded Jerry, falling on one knee and elevating his rifle.

"There! He's reforming! You see, he did actually think of me, for once.

Oh, yes. I snapped him three times. I rather think he didn't like the sound, for he darted his head at me wickedly. I suspected it might be a rattlesnake, though," replied the photographer calmly.

Then came a sharp report.

"Keep back!" called Jerry as the snake's folds suddenly flew out; but its head was almost blown from its body, and there was no more danger to be feared.

"I'll get the rattle, to remind you of your narrow squeak, Will," said Jerry.

"That's kind of you, now; but I rather think you are getting it to remind you of your first shot at game with the new rifle," remarked Will.

The others had by now come up to stare at the enormously thick snake, with more or less of a shudder.

"How about having that skin, to make a belt or something?" suggested Bluff.

"You're welcome to it, if you can take it off and properly dry if; but you're so squeamish about snakes I'd hardly think you'd care for the job," remarked Jerry.

"I'll see. I heard Nellie say she always wanted a belt made out of a skin like that, and perhaps I may try to get it," concluded Bluff.

"Are we going to proceed, or put in a day around here, fellows?" asked Frank.