The Boy Chums In The Forest Part 2

Down, down it went, fifteen, twenty feet, then struck with a dull thud.

He began twisting the sapling over and over, then drew it slowly and gently up, but the end came into view with nothing adhering to it.

Again and again was the fruitless operation repeated, and a look of disappointment had begun to settle on Charley's face when at last his harpoon came into view with a dark ma.s.s clinging to it.

"A turtle," exclaimed Walter in delight.

"No, a gopher, but I'll admit it is a kind of land turtle, although it feeds entirely on gra.s.s and never goes near the water," explained Charley, proud of his capture. "Chris, ride on to that first little lake yonder and get a fire started. We'll be there in a few minutes."

Charley fastened a buckskin thong to one of the gopher's flippers and hung it from his saddle-horn, then all remounted and turned their ponies toward the place where Chris had disappeared among the trees fringing the lake.

They had covered part of the distance when there came a yell and Chris'

pony broke from the trees and bore down upon them at a run. The little darky was clinging to its back, his face ashen and his eyes bulging with terror.

"Go back, Ma.s.sas," he shouted, "hit's a lake of blood, hit's a lake of blood!"

Walter grabbed the flying pony's rein and brought the animal to a halt.

"Nonsense," he said, roughly, "you're crazy, Chris. Come on all, let's see what's scared him so." He spurred forward followed by the others and still retaining his hold upon the bridle of Chris' pony, in spite of the little darky's chattering, "Let me go, Ma.s.sa Walt. Please let me go."

In a few moments the little party entered the fringe of timber and reined in their horses on the sh.o.r.e of the tiny lake. For a moment they sat speechless in their saddles, and truly there was in the sight excuse for Chris' chattering teeth. The little wavelets which broke at their feet were the color of blood, while the lake itself lay like a giant ruby in its setting of green; glistening and sparkling in the sun's bright rays.

Charley dismounted from his horse and from his saddle-bags produced a small medicine gla.s.s, which he filled with the liquid and held up to the light. The fluid sparkled clear as crystal and of a beautiful crimson hue.

"It beats me," he announced, "I thought it might be the bottom gave it that color, but whatever it is, it is in the water itself."

Walter wheeled his horse and studied the encircling trees carefully.

"I've got it," he announced, "do you notice all these trees are of one kind?"

"You're right," Charley exclaimed, "they are all red bays. It's their roots that color the water."

The boys turned to chaff Chris, but he had slipped away at the first words of the explanation. Soon he reappeared with an armful of dry wood. His face was still ashen, but his teeth had stopped chattering.

"Golly," he exclaimed, pompously, "reckon dis n.i.g.g.e.r had you-alls scart dis time. Dis n.i.g.g.e.r sh.o.r.e had de joke on you dis time."

The boys glanced at each other and grinned. "I wouldn't try it again, Chris," Charley chuckled; "you might throw a fit next time, you act so real."

While Chris was making a fire and preparing a bed of coals, Charley cleaned the gopher.

This animal is very much like a turtle, but the tissue which unites the upper and lower sh.e.l.ls is so hardened as to be impervious to a knife.

Charley solved the problem by wedging it in the fork of a fallen tree, and after two or three attempts he succeeded in separating the sh.e.l.ls with an axe.

"Let me finish hit, Ma.s.sa Charley," pleaded Chris; "dis n.i.g.g.e.r knows just how to fix him now you got him open."

Charley was nothing loath to turn over the disagreeable task of cleaning to the little darky, who swiftly completed it. He removed the meat from the sh.e.l.l, skinned the edible portions, and threw the offal far from the fire. Next he washed both meat and sh.e.l.ls carefully, salted and peppered the meat, and replaced it in the sh.e.l.l, laying on top of it a few thin slices of pork. Then, he bound both sh.e.l.ls tightly together with wisps of green palmetto leaves. Lastly, he wrapped another green leaf around the sh.e.l.l and buried it in the bed of glowing coals now ready.

"That's a new idea," grinned Walter, "making your game supply its own cooking-pot. My! but it smells good, though."

In a very short time, Chris p.r.o.nounced the gopher done and it was lifted from the coals and the sh.e.l.ls cut apart revealing the steaming, juicy meat within.

Our hungry party p.r.o.nounced the meat far sweeter and more tender than chicken, and the empty sh.e.l.ls soon bore evidence to their sincerity.

After a brief rest, they mounted and again took up the trail, soon leaving behind their halting-place, which the boys named Lake Christopher, much to the vain little darky's chagrin. He had a shrewd suspicion that he would not hear the last of his fright for many a day.

CHAPTER III.

WOODCRAFT.

For a while the little party rode forward in silence, winding in and out between pretty lakes and bunches of timber, with no path to guide them, but with the help of the compa.s.s, managing to edge slowly to the west. Charley still maintained the lead, but in the open country through which they were traveling it was possible to ride abreast, and Walter soon spurred up beside his chum.

"Do you know, Charley, I begin to feel like a babe in the woods," he confessed. "I suspect you are the only one of us who knows anything about woodcraft. I know nothing about it, I am sure Chris doesn't, and I suspect the captain is far more at home reefing a top-sail. You have got to be our guide and leader, I guess."

"I have hunted a good deal, and a fellow can't help but learn a few things if he is long in the woods," said Charley, modestly, "but I've never been so far into the interior before. I wish, Walt," he continued gravely, "that there was someone along with us that knew the country we are going to better than I, or else that we were safely back in town once more."

"Why?" demanded Walter in astonishment.

"I dread the responsibility, and," lowering his voice so the others could not hear, "I have seen something I do not like."

"What?" queried his chum, eagerly.

Charley produced a square plug of black chewing tobacco from his pocket. "I picked that up in the edge of the clearing this morning,"

he explained. "It wasn't even damp, so it must have been dropped after the dew settled last night."

"Some lone hunter pa.s.sed by in the night," suggested Walter, cheerfully.

"I wish I could think so," said Charley anxiously. "But you know as well as I that there are some gangs of lawless men in Florida, gathered from all quarters of the globe, and, Walter," lowering his voice to a whisper, "I saw signs that there was more than one man near our camp last night."

"What kind of signs?" his chum demanded.

"Broken bushes, the marks of horses' hoofs, and a dozen other little things of no importance when considered separately."

"A fig for your signs, you old croaker," laughed Walter, "you'll be seeing ghosts next. I didn't see any of the signs you talk about.

Besides, if anyone had wished to do us harm they could have done so without hindrance last night."

"I know it," Charley admitted, "and that's what puzzles me. As for the signs, your not noticing them proves nothing. It's the little things that make up the science of woodcraft. The little things that one does not usually notice."

"My eyes are pretty good, and I don't go around with them shut all the time," began Walter hotly, but Charley only smiled.

"Look around and tell me what you see, Walt," he requested.

"A flat, level country, covered with saw palmetto, dotted with pretty little lakes, what looks like a couple of acres of prairie ahead, and, oh yes, a lot of gopher holes all around us like the one you robbed this morning."

"We'll begin with the gopher holes," Charley said with a smile. "Tell me what is in each hole as we pa.s.s it."

"Why, gophers, I suppose."

Charley reined in his horse before four large holes and pointed at them with his riding-whip. "Gopher in that one," he declared without hesitation. "Mr. Gopher is away from the next one, out getting his dinner likely; a c.o.o.n lives in the next, but he is away from home.

Rattlesnake, and a big one, lives in the fourth, but he is also away from home, I am glad to say."