Chapter XVIII: Swept Into a Swamp

"Who threw you and Captain Joe into the river, up north?" demanded Jule. "Wake up and tell us what's the matter with you. What were those people chasing you for?"

Mose only sat up on deck and rolled his eyes as the _Rambler_ increased the distance between the pursuers and himself. Seeing that he was now beyond their reach, he arose and leaned over the gunwale and made funny insulting faces at them.

"What does he mean?" asked Jule, turning to Clay. "Who's chasing him?"

"Don't you remember how Sam, the Robber, the fellow who, with Red, captured the _Rambler_ in the bayou, threw the boy and the dog out, and how they lay in the grounds at the old house until dusk and then came to your rescue?" asked Clay. "You must have a poor memory, I think."

"I didn't know whether it was Red or Sam who threw him in," Jule explained.

"So that's Sam over there with the negroes?" questioned Alex. "What did you do to them, Mose? Where did you go last night? What do you mean by forming an exploring expedition all by yourself and having all the fun?"

"Ah went 'shore to hear de singin'," the boy replied, "an' dey cotch me stealin' de yaller leg chicken, an' say de's goin' to beat dis coon up plenty!"

"You swam all that way to steal a chicken?" asked Jule. "Was it cooked?"

"Yaller leg chicken!" insisted the boy.

"Was it cooked?" persisted Jule. "Where did they get it?"

"Dey say it done lef' de roos' an' follow dem into camp!"

"Did you eat a whole one?" asked Case. "A whole yellow-legged chicken?"

Mose grinned and showed the whites of his eyes.

"Ah shore did!" he replied, and Jule declared that he would willingly have helped him do it if he had only known about it!

"What were they talking about last night?" asked Clay, as the _Rambler_ turned a bend and lost sight of the negroes and Sam, still gesticulating fiercely, on the east shore.

"They're sho' goin' to get you-all!" was the reply. "They goin' to steal dis boat, first thing you know. Ah'm scart ob dat white man!"

The little fellow could tell very little of the talk he had heard while detained in the negro camp. He knew that Sam, the Robber, was there with the negroes, and that he was continually urging them to help him secure the _Rambler_, but that was all. Of their plans he knew nothing but this.

During the afternoon the boys passed a great many steamers, going up the river, some with supplies for those who had been made homeless by the flood. Fortunately the levees had held, but the water had filled in back of them, in some instances and destroyed much property. The lagoons and swamps up river were still flooded, and in places farming land was still being washed away.

All the way down, until night closed in, they saw gangs of negroes on the levees, fishing drift wood out of the water. In some instances small out-houses were brought out in good condition. One shanty boat the boys saw had the cupola of a house set up on the prow, and a farm bell in the top of it was ringing as the raft bobbed in the currents of the river. Now and then families were seen gathered on the levees, evidently waiting for a steamer to take them off.

The boys kept up good speed until night and then tied up in a small cove on the lower side of an island, not far from the Mississippi side.

"We have been going pretty fast," Clay observed, as the boat was worked in behind a point so as to be out of the wash of the steamers. "We haven't a thing to do until we get back to Chicago, and we can take all the time we want getting back. How is that for a peaceful life, Mose?" he added, turning to the little negro boy.

Mose showed a mouthful of white teeth and a pair of chalk-white eyeballs.

"It takes a corkscrew to get conversation out of Mose!" Jule observed.

"I think I can make him talk," laughed Alex. "Mose," he went on, "I'll give you a plate of honey for supper if you'll tell me where Chet is and who threw the leather bag on deck last night?"

"Some one fro' what?" asked the little fellow.

"Some one threw this on the boat in the night," Alex. answered, handing the bag to the boy. "Did you hear any one around before you left?"

The negro boy rolled his eyes for a minute then took the bag and held it under the nose of Captain Joe, who sniffed at it for a second and then walked back to the place in the cabin where Chet had slept.

"De dawg sho' know who fro' dat bag!" he said, patting Captain Joe on the head.

"That shows why the dog didn't make a row when the person who threw it got close enough to the boat to heave it on deck!" Jule laughed.

"It takes a little coon to find out things about animals!" grinned Alex. "Here we've been studying over who tossed the bag, and Mose settles the question in a minute. That is sure some coon!"

"There's an affinity between a boy and a dog, anyway!" Clay laughed.

"I wonder if the kid is right?" Case questioned.

The boys discussed the matter during supper, and, right or wrong, Mose was given his plate of honey, which he was obliged to divide with Teddy!

The night passed away without incident, and early morning found the _Rambler_ on her way to the Gulf again. The day was not different from other days for a week. The boys passed plantations and villages, swamps and lagoons, which seemed to have escaped the force of the flood, but now and then came to a wrecked cabin toppling from a bank.

They secured a supply of gasoline at a small place near the Arkansas line and at night found themselves in the heart of a desolate country. When they tied up they were at the mouth of a lagoon which seemed to lead into a great swamp.

"It is a sure thing that no leather bags will be thrown on deck to-night," Clay observed, as supper was prepared. "We are even off the track of the steamers, for they seem to stick to the opposite side of the stream."

"This would be a dandy spot for a band of river pirates to inhabit," Jule added.

"Don't talk about pirates!" admonished Clay. "You'll have Mose turning white again. Some day he'll turn so white with fright that he will never turn black again, and he wouldn't like that, would you, Mose?"

"Ah's 'tented wif mah color," answered the boy.

"That's all right, as long as you are on the boat," Alex. put in, "but you jump into the lagoon and see how long you'll last. An alligator will leave a fat pig any time to make a dinner off a black boy!"

"Quit scaring the boy!" exclaimed Case. "First thing you know, he will be afraid to swim ashore to steal a yellow-legged chicken roasted by tramps!"

When darkness fell a soft wind came out of the west and a slow rain began falling. It was wild and uncanny outside, but bright and warm in the cabin. Alex. entertained his chums for a time with stories of the Mississippi, and explained how Grant had shortened the stream by cutting a new channel at Vicksburg, but all were tired, and by nine o'clock all were asleep save Jule, who was to stand guard that night, and Mose who was moving restlessly about.

"Come on into the cabin, Mose," Jule finally ordered, "and go to bed, like a good coon! You'll get wet out on deck!"

The boy entered the cabin and sat down near the stove, in which a small fire was burning. Jule regarded him attentively.

"What's the matter with you to-night?" he finally asked.

"Ah hear a roar!" was the reply.

"That's the wind in the cypress trees," Jule explained.

"Is it de win' makes de ribber come up?" asked Mose, in a moment.

"Is the river rising?" asked Jule, going to the door and switching on the prow light. "It ought to be running down."

By the light of the electric the boy saw that the river was indeed rising. Little knolls which were above water when the boat had been anchored were now under a swift current. The river was sweeping past the mouth of the lagoon with a new force.

Presently trees and wreckage of different sorts were seen drifting down, and there came a rushing sound which added greatly to the weirdness of the scene.

"This beats me!" Jule muttered. "The flood has been going down for nearly a week. There must have been heavy rains up to the north, and at the sources of the rivers emptying into the Mississippi. I wonder if it will do anything to us?"

At that moment a timber crashed against the _Rambler_, jarring it considerably.

Clay and the others were out of their bunks in a minute, and out on deck to see what had taken place. Alex. was the first one to grasp the situation.

"We'll have to turn on the motors to hold this boat," he said. "The anchor lies in the mud, and will pull away at the first push of a current. First thing we know, we'll be down there in a cypress swamp!"

"You're excited!" Case called out. "We passed the flood two days ago."

"That's the trouble," Alex. explained. "We passed the flood! The crest of it is still to the north of us. It has undoubtedly been raining up river, and that has swelled the volume of water."

"Do you mean that we got down the river in advance of the flood?" demanded Case.

"We have been going a little faster than the current, haven't we, notwithstanding our tying up nights?" Alex. asked. "This little boat has been going some! To-night the crest of the flood overtakes us. See?"

"It doesn't look reasonable!" Case insisted. "I don't believe it!"

"The kid is right," Clay declared. "I have often read about boats meeting the flood the second time, once when they passed it, and once when it caught up with them."

The roaring sound which Mose had referred to now grew louder, sounding like the rush of a long and heavily loaded freight train.

While the lads listened, hardly knowing what to do to protect themselves, Mose pointed a shaking hand at a spot far down the lagoon. Clay looked and saw a great blaze on what seemed a wooded knoll to the west of the river.

"There's a camp down there!" he said.

"That makes it nice!" grinned Alex. "No honest men ever made camp in that hole at this season of the year! It is dollars to tripe that if we don't put on power the crest of the flood will wash us down, when the full strength comes, and beach us among a band of river pirates! If we don't get under way up stream we'll have do to something to make the anchor hold!"

While the boys were discussing some way of accomplishing this, for they did not like the idea of breasting the flood, the crest of the flood came seething down the stream, a wall of water four feet high! It swept over the point of land between the river and the bayou and dashed against the _Rambler_.

The anchor held for a minute, then the boys knew that they were in motion. The current seemed stronger there than in the river itself.

"The water is cutting a new channel below," Clay shouted, as the _Rambler_ was swept away, "and we are headed for that swamp. Now, we are in a peck of trouble!"