CHAPTER XXIII.

AN ANCHOR TO WINDWARD.

When Bob White heard Bumpus talk in this way he took notice of the fact that the stout scout was in deadly earnest in what he said. It was no laughing matter, apparently, because Bumpus had evidently made all sorts of preparations for the expected disaster, besides fastening one end of that cord around his body, and asking his fellow scout to hold the other.

His precious silver-plated bugle which, as the accredited musician of the troop, he always carried along with him, unless otherwise forbidden by Thad, he had now made more secure against possible damage by fastening the same about his neck, so that it dangled between his shoulders. And he was gripping his rifle as though bent on keeping that also out of the awful muck, should the accident he anticipated come to pass; for once let any of that ooze find a way into the barrel, and it would be a most difficult task to get the interior “spic-and-span,” and shiny again, as Bumpus always wished to keep his firearm.

But Bob White did not smile.

He liked the fat boy too well to give him unnecessary pain, though the fact of Bumpus preparing that heavy cord so that he might be saved in time, should he slip from the narrow causeway and sink into the slime, was really comical; and later on would doubtless elicit roars of laughter from unfeeling Giraffe and Davy, when they came to talk matters over, and were free to make as much noise as they felt like.

“That’s all right, Bumpus,” Bob said, reassuringly, as he accepted the cord, and proceeded to wind it several times around his left hand, for he was carrying his gun in his right.

“You’ll do me the favor, then, will you?” questioned the other, with eagerness.

“To be sure I will, suh, and only too gladly,” replied Bob; “but, if so be you happen to know when you’re going, it might be a good thing, I take it, to give me due warning of the same, because a sudden jerk would perhaps pull me over with you; and then, suh, it’d be a case of the blind leading the blind.”

“I will, Bob, depend on it, I’ll try to,” Bumpus assured him. “Course I don’t want to souse in that awful mud, and I’m agoing to try my level best to keep on the straight and narrow road all I can; but if it does happen, it’s always some comfort to know you’ve got an anchor out to windward.”

“Yes, suh, it’s sometimes a good thing to have a string tied to things, so they can be jerked back if the conditions don’t seem favorable. I’ve known fellows who never made a bargain but they had an ‘if’ or a ‘perhaps’ fixed to the same. But nobody could say that of you, Bumpus. Don’t worry about me; I’ll attend to business at the old stand, suh, all right. You won’t go down so quick but that I’ll manage to draw the line taut; and if she holds you’re just bound to come out, either whole or in sections, suh. That’s all.”

Which intelligence could hardly have been very comforting to poor Bumpus; whose face took on a thoughtful look, as though he had begun already to wonder whether the remedy might not be more dreadful than the disease.

But there was no time for more conversation in these whispered tones between the two scouts; because Alligator Smith had apparently found the place for which he was looking, and boldly stepped out from the firm ground.

While his feet went under the surface an inch or so, he seemed to have struck a solid foundation; for he immediately turned, and waved his hand to the posse; and then held up his finger suggestively, as though warning them under no circumstances should they make unnecessary noise.

Perhaps the fox they hoped to find in his hole might be sleeping, and not apt to take the alarm easily; but it was not wise to depend too much upon that chance. The really keen woodsman never underrates the party or animal he may be hunting, but always acts as though he must expect the worst. It is better to be too cautious than to lack in this regard, and ruin well-laid plans.

Pretty soon there was a long line of men and boys making their way along that submerged ledge of solid ground. Thad came immediately after the guide, walking in the footprints of the swamp hunter, if such a thing could be said where the soft ooze instantly settled back as soon as one withdrew his foot. Then others of the scouts, led by the sheriff, trailed along, Bumpus being just behind his good friend Bob White, so no one really noticed that there was a connecting link between the two.

By the time the last member of the big posse had entered the bog, Alligator Smith was almost halfway over; and thus far all had gone smoothly, so that save for a certain amount of soft splashing there had nothing happened to create a disturbance. Bumpus was going strong. He must feel more or less encouraged by the success with which he was following in the wake of Smithy, who evidently felt this thing of soiling his brand new leggings with that black ooze more than any other scout; because Smithy never could get over being particular in his appearance, though he had been cured of being a dude, brushing his hair when in camp, and other silly ways of trying to imagine that certain duties must be performed when roughing it, just the same as when he was at home.

Bumpus kept his eyes glued upon the feet of Smithy, knowing that eternal vigilance was always the price of safety and liberty. If the other manifested signs of wabbling Bumpus was apt to shudder, and stand stock-still until he saw Smithy go on again without taking the anticipated tumble into that quaking muck bed that seemed to just yawn expectantly on either side of the moving line of men and boys.

Some persons declare that when one is anticipating a thing it generally comes about. Others say a “watched kettle never boils;” so you can take your choice. But as events proved, Bumpus’ fears were not without a foundation; for when he was all of two-thirds of the way over the bog he suddenly slipped, and losing his footing, just settled into the ooze like a big balloon might drop down.

Bumpus gave no yelp of alarm, for he had kept schooling himself on this score all along, and made up his mind that if the sacrifice must be carried out he would at least prove himself a credit to the training of Thad, and go down in silence.

Bob White came very near being pulled in after him; but Giraffe who came just behind the Southern boy, succeeded in clutching him in time.

There was poor Bumpus over his knees in the slime, and sinking steadily all the while on account of his great weight. He knew the futility of trying to get out by himself, and that the more he moved about the worse his plight was bound to be; and so he just squatted there like a huge frog, holding his gun up above his head, and looking appealingly toward the chum from whom he felt that he had a right to expect help.

Nor was Bob White slow to get busy on that line. Fortunately it was a new and strong cord that Jasper had used in his man-trap which failed to work because of the vigilance of the scout-master; and when several others had laid hold of the same no doubt they could assist Bumpus to clamber out again.

It was rather difficult to accomplish anything while on such a narrow footing, because in the first place they could not bunch together; and then again there was always a chance that one of the other scouts might also lose his footing, and slide into that soft bed; for the muck was no respector of persons, neither did Bumpus have a monopoly of the same, because there was plenty of room for others.

But by dint of judicious handling, and a sort of swinging pull they managed to start the heavy scout coming.

“Get a move on, and help yourself, can’t you?” fretted Giraffe, upon seeing how Bumpus was just content to let himself be hauled out by main strength.

“Shall I, Bob?” asked the object of all this solicitude, as though recognizing the Southern boy as the one in command, because it had been in his charge he had submitted his case when the prospects looked dubious.

“Yes, it would help some, I take it, suh, if you did make motions like you-all might be a frog swimming in there,” the one appealed to made answer.

And so Bumpus, who had doubtless often watched a frog swimming so gracefully in the water, started to give them his conception of what it was like. Giraffe nearly doubled up with silent laughter, and only for the proximity of Allan might have made more or less of a noise; but he succeeded in restraining his exuberant spirits, and even did some hauling on the faithful cord that did not fail Bumpus in this great emergency.

They got him out presently, and while Bumpus was a sight, with all that black mud clinging to his legs, so that the rest had to keep away from him, Davy had the temerity, instead of giving thanks over the successful rescue of his chum, to go and mutter something that sounded like:

“Anyway, now, he’ll just _have_ to throw away that old suit, and the rest of us’ll be able to breathe easy again. Blessings lots of times come along in disguise, my ma says, and this must be one of ’em. And so I’m real glad we had to creep along this slippery ridge after all, because it’s going to make a change in things when we get back to our duffel.”

“Keep quiet, can’t you, Davy!” warned Giraffe, who all the time was chuckling to himself as though he really enjoyed every word he heard the other scout say, because Davy was voicing his own sentiments exactly.

When that suspicious “plunk” had warned them all that some one was in the mire, Thad and the guide had come to a full stop, to wait until the rescue had been effected. While they were strung out in that wavering line, what was the interest of one concerned them all; and there would be little use in a few of them getting safely over the bog if the main body were held up out there; because none of those in the rear could pass by until Bumpus had been saved.

The fat scout gave Bob White many thankful looks, and insisted upon the other retaining hold of that friendly piece of thin rope, because, as often happens, history might choose to repeat, as one good turn deserves another, and he did not like that oozy bed any better after testing its capacity, than he had before his slip-up.

As for that line, Bumpus would treasure it most religiously, as one of his most valued possessions; for had it not saved his life?

The forward march was resumed, with everybody hoping that clumsy Bumpus would be much more careful of his footing now, so that the solid ground might be reached without more trouble.

Nobody was more anxious than the stout boy that such a thing might carry; and quite naturally he exercised all the caution he could muster up in order to keep from doing that sliding trick again.

When finally he reached solid ground, and actually felt something firm under his feet, Bumpus gave a great sigh of thanksgiving and relief. Others did the same, it may as well be confessed.

First of all, Bumpus restored his bugle to its customary place at his side. Then, having deposited his gun on the ground, leaning up against a tree, he next proceeded to coil up that valuable cord, and stow the same away inside his khaki jacket.

“Why don’t you get busy, and scrape some of that mud off?” asked Step Hen, in the ear of the one who had so recently been saved; whereupon Bumpus sat him down deliberately, picked up a stick, and began to reduce the amount of bog which he was carrying on his person; which operation some of the others watched in more or less amusement, particularly Davy, who shook his head, and grinned as he caught the eye of Giraffe, as much as to say:

“Here’s where luck came our way in great big chunks, Giraffe, because, don’t you see, he’s just bound to throw that suit away after getting it in such a horrible mess, for Thad won’t allow him to tote it along, nohow. Our time is near at hand, thank goodness; and I say again we’re lucky; because it’d almost take an earthquake to make such a stubborn mule as Bumpus to change his mind, he’s so sot in his ways.”

The others had better luck than the fat scout; several may have slipped a little on the way over, but no one actually fell in far enough to make a rescue necessary.

By degrees they came ashore, until presently it was seen that every one in the expedition had landed.

The sheriff deemed it a wise piece of precaution to leave a couple of his men at this point to act as a guard. If, as Alligator Smith believed, this was the only means of crossing the fearful muck bed, then, should they have the misfortune to do anything that would start the fugitive to action, he might still be nabbed in the act of trying to get over to the mainland at this point.

And this having been duly attended to, the rest of the posse, together with Alligator Smith and the Boy Scouts, prepared to leave the vicinity of the quaking bog, and start in among the trees with which this queer island, looking like an oasis in the midst of a desert, was pretty well covered.

Every fellow just knew that they must be very close to the place where the man they were hunting had his “hang-out;” and the knowledge caused them to experience a succession of odd little thrills that seemed to chase all over their bodies, as though some one might be pouring ice water down their backs. But at the same time there was a delightful sense of expectancy in the air that caused most of the scouts to feel that the climax to their long journey must now be at hand.