Chapter XX: The Darkey Up the Tree

While Case talked with the young man Clay went back into the cabin to talk with Alex., who was now changing into dry clothing.

"Do you think the story that man is telling is all right?" he asked.

"I think he is telling the truth about the river thieves," Alex. replied.

"I was wondering if that wasn't just a bait to help them get on board."

"It may be, but there are river robbers in this section. They told us that where we bought the gasoline. These may be the robbers, for all I know, but we ought to make sure of that before turning them down. They'll starve here, if they have lost their boat and provisions. Of course they can get wild game, but I don't see how they are going to cook it. We ought to give them a chance, anyway."

Clay went back to the deck and listened to the conversation between Case and the visitor, who seemed a little annoyed at the doubting of his word.

"Where did you live in Chicago?" he heard Case ask.

"In furnished rooms on Elizabeth street, near Washington boulevard," was the reply.

"Where did you work?" was the next question, impertinent and personal, but seemingly necessary at that time.

"At a machine shop on Clinton street, not far from West Madison.

"Then you are machinists?"

"Yes, all of us. Business is dull in our line just now, and we thought we'd make a hit with ourselves by spending a winter in the south."

"When did you leave Chicago?"

"We left Chicago last September," answered the man, turning toward the rail. "We expect to get back sometime during the next century, if all Chicago boys are as hospitable as you are! Now, with your permission, I'll go back to my friends."

"How do you know we are from Chicago?" asked Clay, stepping forward.

The other laughed lightly and pointed to the boat's name on articles scattered about.

"But, aside from that," he said, "we'd know you anywhere. The Chicago newspapers carried a lot of feature stuff about your boat and your trips."

"All right, stranger," one of the three answered, in rather a pleasant tone of voice. "Just as you say!"

"What do you want?" asked Alex., still shivering from his cold bath.

"We want a ride out of this consarned swamp," was the reply.

"How did you get in here?" asked Clay. "Get out the way you got in!" he added.

"Our shanty boat is smashed to flinders and our grub is gone," complained the other. "It don't look as if we could walk out of here, does it?"

"Was that your fire we saw?" asked Case, drawing closer to the gunwale.

"We had a fire before the flood pounced down upon us," was the reply.

"What shall we do?" asked Clay, facing the others. "If they are on the square we can't leave them here. They would starve!"

"They may be pirates!" suggested Jule.

"I don't believe it," Case declared. "They don't look the part. Besides, if they had designs on the boat, they could have picked us off in the darkness, and we'd never have known where the bullets came from. They're all right!"

"One of you come aboard," Clay instructed, "and we'll see what you look like."

In plain view of the boys the man who had done the talking handed his gun to a companion and struck out for the boat, walking on logs part of the way, wading part of the way, and swimming when he could do neither. In a moment he was on deck.

"The three of us," he explained, "were out of work at Chicago. We had a little cash, and decided to come down here and spend the winter where we wouldn't have room-rent or restaurant bills to pay. We thought we could cut and market enough fish-poles out of the brake swamps to pay our way back in the spring."

"That wasn't a bad idea!" Jule declared.

"We were getting along all right," the other went on, "until the river thieves began troubling us. They stole our food, and at last began stealing our poles. We were getting ready to go out when the flood smashed our shanty boat into smithereens. Now we are up against it, unless you take us with you. And," he added, with a quick glance around, "you'd better take us on board, for the thieves are back there in the swamp, with their envious eyes fixed on this boat. They are mostly negroes, and escaped convicts."

"You ought to know that we've got to be careful," Clay said, as the man was about to leave the boat. "We don't know anything about you, except what you have told us, but we're going to take a chance on you. Tell your friends to come on board."

In five minutes the three were in the cabin, trying on some of Clay's clothes, for their own were not only wet but they oozed black muck. When they were dressed again they passed their revolvers over to Clay, with the statement that they wouldn't need them unless the river pirates took a hand in the game that night.

"Have the ruffians been here long?" asked Clay.

"About a month ago," was the reply, "a lot of negroes broke away from a convict camp off to the west somewhere. They came into this swamp and built a camp on a knoll, which must, by the way, be under water now. They are murderers, housebreakers and sneak thieves of the most desperate kind. We tried to make friends with them, but it was of no use. They think their camp is unknown, and so object to our getting out and telling where it is. I half believe they will try to keep you from getting out for the same reason."

"If it is all the same to you boys," another of the visitors said, "we'd like something to eat. We were half starved when we came on board. I think I can catch a fish or shoot a duck, so our supper won't cost you anything only the bother of having us around. What do you say? Do we eat?"

"I should say so!" cried Alex., sticking his head out of the cabin, "and when you are out after game get enough for me a little lunch. I haven't had anything to eat since dark!"

"Is that rowboat at the side all right?" asked the visitor, pointing to the boat which had been found up the river. "If it is, I'll get a little ways from the motor boat, in the shadows, and see what I can do getting ducks."

"The boat is all right," Alex. answered, "and I'll go with you. I'm beginning to feel the lack of adventure. I get awfully tired of this monotony sometimes!"

They all laughed at the idea of there being any monotony in the situation, there in the swamp, with the river roaring around them and the watchful thieves in the thicket, and Alex. seemed quite annoyed at the thought that they regarded his remark as a joke.

"Perhaps something will happen before you get back," Clay grinned.

"The boat may smash," said Jule, cheerfully. "It has been banged about quite a lot since we got it. Or you may find some of the robbers. There's no knowing what streak of good luck you may get into!"

"I'm not looking for any good luck of that kind!" the visitor said, as he drew the rowboat around and clambered into it. "I've had all the cheerful incidents of that character I care to have. When I get back to Chicago, I'm going to get a room next to the Desplaines street police station and go to bed at seven o'clock every night."

"What's your name?" asked Alex., abruptly as he pushed off from the _Rambler_.

"Gregg Holder," was the reply. "I'm just Gregg to all my friends, but I'm Bully Gregg on South Halstead street. The others are Eddie Butler and Hank Quinn."

"That settles it!" grinned Alex. "I'm going back."

"What for?" asked Gregg, in surprise. "Don't you want a duck or a fish?"

"Sure I do," was the reply, "but I'm afraid! You're the man that fought Murphy to a draw? What? And Eddie Butler is the boy that bested Murray!"

"You've got that right, kid," was the reply. "We've all been in the prize ring, but we're no slum toughs. If you think the bears and snakes and robbers are better company than we are," he added, "we'll get out of your boat!"

"You're just the lads to give the pirates a good drubbing!" Alex. laughed, "and so we'll ask you to remain with us and learn something of the rules of polite society! Let me take one oar, unless you want to keep on going round in a circle!"

"There's something pulling on the boat," Gregg said. "I can't keep it on a straight line. See if you can find out what has tangled us."

Alex. turned on his searchlight and cast its rays on the water ahead. Then he dropped his light in the bottom of the boat and stuck his hands out straight. Gregg looked up as the light fell, then dropped the oars and stuck his hands out straight!

"This is the adventure you wanted!" Gregg said, as half a dozen negroes showed on a hummock only a few feet away. "We're held up by the river thieves!"

"What do you fellows want?" Alex. demanded, looking straight into the muzzle of a gun that seemed to have a bore as large as the Hudson river tunnel.

"We want that boat, so we can get on board the motor contraption," said a voice.

"That's no negro!" whispered Alex. "It is a white man blacked up!"

"Right you are!" replied Gregg.

"What are you boys talking about?" demanded the holder of the threatening gun.

"We were telling each other how glad we were to meet you!" Alex. snarled.

"You're a nervy kid, anyhow," said the other. "Push the boat up here, so we can get in. We were raised as pets, and don't want to get wet."

There was nothing to do but obey instructions. They knew the desperate character of the men they were facing. If they followed orders and waited for an opportunity to turn the tables on their captors, they might get out of the mess with whole skins, but if they forced a fight there and then there would be little hope for them. When there were four of the pirates in the boat, crouching down under the gunwales, who made the fifth, the spokesman gave his orders.

"Now you boys row back. When we get close up I'll show myself and put the whole party under cover. See? My men will also have their guns, and if you disobey instructions in the slightest particular, you'll be shot in the back."

"That's where you like to shoot, I take it!" growled Gregg. "If I had one of you out on the bank I'd break him in two pieces and feed him to the snakes."

"Cuss if you want to!" commented the robber. "We can settle all that after a time. Just now, get over to that boat, and call out that you've found another castaway in the swamp! We'll be on board before they can say a word."

This looked like turning the _Rambler_ over to thieves, but there was no way in which the boys could reverse conditions just then, so they rowed toward the motor boat, calling out that they had found a sick man in the jungle. The robber prodded them with the muzzle of his gun when they did not give the right inflection to their voices.

When the boat entered the circle of light the boys on board the _Rambler_ were all leaning over the gunwale, looking for the boys and the rescued individual. There were no weapons in sight, and Alex. feared that all the revolvers were stowed away in the cabin, and that the _Rambler_ would be taken without a shot being fired in her defense.

When the boat touched the hull of the _Rambler_ the robber sprang to his feet, presenting two long guns as he did so.

"I'll empty these guns into the crowd of you," he said, in a low, even voice, "if there is one move on deck. We are coming aboard, and the better you use us the better we shall use you. Just sit still, boys," he added, addressing his men, "until I get on deck."

He was lithe and strong, and was on the deck in an instant, without opposition, his guns threatening the amazed boys and their visitors. Captain Joe gave forth a volley of ugly growls, and would have attacked the man, but Clay ordered him back.

"Never mind the dog," he said. "He won't bite!"

"If he does, he'll get a chance to bite lead!" the robber exclaimed. "Now, men," he went on, "climb up into the boat. Leave the rowers where they are."

Four husky negroes, all with traces of whisky in their breath, began climbing over Alex. and Gregg to reach the motor boat. As they were steadying the rocking craft, they carried no weapons in their hands.

Then something happened which was as much of a surprise to the boys as it was to the men who were trying to capture the _Rambler_!

A rope with a wide noose at one end came whirling out of the sky and fell over the robber's head, resting for an instant in a neat coil on his shoulders!

He clutched his weapons closer and looked up. Then the line tightened about his muscular neck until his feet left the deck and his face grew red with the blood of strangulation, then grew white. The revolvers clattered to the floor, and the man's figure toppled and fell as the rope slacked.

When this strange thing happened, Alex. and Gregg were bending their heads down to permit the negroes to clamber over them. Still they saw the rope fall, saw the man gasp as it closed about his neck, and felt the negroes springing back in dismay.

Then they arose with their heavy oars in their hands and struck slashing, crunching blows at the heads below them! One negro lifted an arm to shoot, but it fell with the bones of the shoulder crushed to pulp. One by one they dropped out of the boat, some with broken arms, some with broken heads. After they had all disappeared, either under the surface of the lagoon or into the darkness of the swamp, a shrill voice came from the tree where Mose had taken refuge from the snakes and the alligators:

"Go on, white folks," it said, "Ah goin' hang dis immitation coon up on dis tree!"