CHAPTER XXIV

SWALLOWED UP BY THE BOG

The cougar quickly reached the screen of branches that Bobby had arranged, and here he hesitated, not understanding the nature of this obstacle. The tawny head was within two feet of the boys, and they found themselves looking fairly into the wicked green eyes that glared at them through the frail network of branches.

But the panther had little chance to solve the puzzle before him, for with one accord the boys, wielding their clubs with a strength born of desperation, rained blows upon his head. The cougar growled and spit furiously, and struck viciously at them with wicked claws extended. But he was at a disadvantage, for he could only use one paw, being forced to cling to the tree with the others. For a few minutes he battled furiously, and it seemed as though he would force his way past the barrage of blows descending on him. One sweep of his paw caught Fred’s club and tore it out of his grasp, and it was only by a tremendous effort that Fred kept himself from following it to the ground. Then Bobby, risking all on one blow, let go his hold on the branch, where he had been steadying himself, stood up to his full height, and, grasping his club in both hands, brought it down with tremendous force squarely between the cougar’s eyes. Stunned and bleeding, the animal had received all the punishment it could stand for the present, and, still spitting furiously, it backed down the tree and leaped to the ground.

The boys were panting and well-nigh exhausted, but they still had strength left for a cheer as they gazed down at their discomfited enemy.

“That was hot work while it lasted,” panted Fred. “If it hadn’t been for that scheme of yours, Bobby, it would probably have been a different story.”

“It did help some,” admitted Bobby. “But we’re not through with that brute yet. You can see he’s working himself up to come after us again.”

“I’ve got to get another club,” said Fred, as he started hacking at a stout branch with his knife. “I don’t know how I ever kept from falling when he knocked that stick out of my hand.”

“It was lucky he connected with the club instead of with your hand,” remarked Lee. “You’d better get that branch cut as quickly as you can. That beast will be up here again inside of five minutes.”

“All right, I’m ready for him,” said Fred, as he cut through the last tough fibre and found himself provided with a serviceable club. “We can give him the same dose he got before.”

The cougar was still full of fight, and Fred had hardly regained his position when the fierce brute came swarming up the tree again. But this time he did not stop at the screen of branches, most of which had been torn off in the previous struggle, and in spite of a staggering fusillade of blows he managed to reach the crotch in which the boys were standing.

“Out onto the branches, fellows!” yelled Lee. “It’s our only chance!”

Before the panther could get his balance and reach one of them, the boys had scrambled out on three separate branches, leaving the cougar in undisputed possession of their former vantage ground.

It was a breathless moment for all three, as they waited to see which one the animal would attack first. The cougar himself seemed undecided at first, glaring from one to the other, spitting and growling, viciously. Then, perhaps because he had happened to choose the largest branch, the ferocious beast started creeping toward Lee, his wicked yellow eyes staring fixedly at his victim.

“Help me out, fellows, or I’m a goner!” cried the Southern lad despairingly.

His friends had no intention of leaving him to his fate. Some three feet above Lee’s branch were two others, almost parallel to it. Bobby and Fred, both moved by the same thought, selected each a branch and crawled cautiously out in the wake of the advancing cougar.

The latter was proceeding cautiously, for the branch bent and swayed with his weight, and anyway, his prey seemed so securely within his reach that he saw no cause for hurry. He was so intent on Lee that he either did not notice the swaying of the branches over his head or else thought it not worth noticing. Lee kept edging further and further out on the branch, until at last the cougar, feeling it bend perilously beneath him, paused a moment in his deadly progress. This was Bobby’s and Fred’s opportunity, and they were not slow in taking advantage of it. They poised their clubs a second, and then, at the same time, brought them down full force on the wicked yellow head beneath them.

No panther that ever lived could withstand that crushing impact, and the cougar went limp, lost his hold on the branch, and went crashing to the ground, twenty feet below, where he lay twitching convulsively.

“Now’s our chance to make an end of this customer for once and all!” yelled Bobby. “Come on down, fellows, and we’ll finish him this time.”

Lee hastily scrambled back from the end of the branch, and all three boys slid down the trunk of the tree to where the cougar lay, still stunned from the terrific blow and from its fall.

“Quick,” said Bobby, “grab hold of him, and we’ll throw him into that big bog-hole we passed when we left the main path.”

“Right!” exclaimed Fred. “But we’ll have to act mighty quick. He’s apt to come to life any second.”

It was all the boys could do to lift the big brute, but, with the strength of desperation, they managed it somehow, and half carried, half dragged, the unconscious panther to the slimy green pit that they had almost tumbled into themselves while making for the tree. The pit was surrounded by an expanse of treacherous quicksand, and into this they shoved the cougar. The greedy quicksand received its victim with avidity, drawing the cougar down and down into its slimy depths, until with a dull sucking sound it closed over the bloodthirsty brute’s head.

The boys watched, fascinated, and almost found it in their hearts to pity their late enemy. He was gone as completely as though he had never existed, and the treacherous sand stretched out smooth and unbroken, not a quiver on its surface to tell that it had added one more victim to its already long list.

“Gee,” exclaimed Bobby with a shudder, “that’s a terrible way to die, although that brute deserved all that was coming to him.”

“Well, it’s pretty certain that he won’t bother us any more,” remarked Fred. “And I think we’re mighty lucky to be alive.”

“I’ll say so!” exclaimed Lee, fervently. “I gave myself up for lost when I found myself out on that limb with the panther not ten feet away from me. That was an awful wallop you fellows gave him.”

“A wallop in time saves nine,” misquoted Fred, with a grin.

“It probably saved the nine that the cougar was figuring on giving me,” said Lee.

“Looks to me as though that wallop lost nine,” said Bobby, slyly.

“How do you make that out?” inquired Fred.

“Why, it lost that big cat’s nine lives, didn’t it?” inquired Bobby, innocently.

“It certainly did,” admitted Lee, laughing, “and you can bet I was in a position to appreciate it, too. The business end of that panther was getting entirely too close to me for comfort.”

“Well,” said Fred, “it must be Bobby’s turn next to get in a tight place. First I nearly get eaten up by an alligator, and then Lee pretty near furnishes a hearty meal for a hungry cougar. What variety of animals do you prefer, Bobby?”

“Oh, I’m not jealous of all the attention you fellows get,” returned Bobby. “You can have your little pets and welcome.”

“How generous he is, Lee, isn’t he?” said Fred, sarcastically. “But don’t forget the old saying, Bobby, that ‘he who laughs last, irritates.’”

“That must be a mighty old saying, all right—so old that everybody’s forgotten it but you,” said Bobby.

“That just goes to show what a fine memory I have,” retorted Fred. “Whenever you can’t remember an old proverb, you try to make out that there never was such a one. Your memory is nothing but a hole with no bottom in it.”

“All right, pick on my memory all you want to,” grinned Bobby, “but remember ‘it’s a long worm that has no turning.’”

“You fellows had better cut out all those fake proverbs and get down to business,” warned Lee. “We’re just as far as ever from getting out of this swamp, and we don’t even know where we’re going to get our next meal. Why don’t you exercise your minds on this problem: when do we eat, and if so, how?”

“You certainly start off with a terribly hard one,” said Fred. “Can’t you think of anything easier than that, Lee?”

“I’m getting so hungry that I can’t think of anything else. It’s hours since the last of those alligator eggs disappeared,” complained Lee.

“Then you shouldn’t have thrown the cougar into the quicksand,” retorted Fred, “he might have made tough eating, but it would have been a lot better than nothing.”

“I thought of that,” admitted Lee. “But I was more anxious to keep him from eating me. Besides,” he added, “you and Bobby never thought of anything but getting rid of him at that time either.”

“No use crying over spilt milk,” said Bobby, philosophically. “We’ll have to move and trust to luck for something to eat.”

As neither of the others had anything better to suggest, they plodded back to the path they had been following when they were so rudely interrupted by the cougar. The haze had lightened considerably, and the sun shone through with the appearance of a big red ball, enabling the boys to pick their way for a short time, but then the haze settled down thicker than ever, and they found themselves entirely at a loss. Their only consolation was that the ground appeared to be getting steadily higher and firmer, and they felt that they had left the worst of the bog behind them. But the faint path they had been following grew less and less distinct, and before they fairly realized it they were hopelessly lost. For a time they stumbled on through a maze of vines and creepers that grew steadily thicker, until at last they became practically impassable. Then the boys were forced to call a halt, and they gazed at each other questioningly.