Bobby Blake on a Plantation: or, Lost in the Great Swamp

“That was a close shave!” gasped Fred at last. “Old Baldy is out after dark meat to-day, I can see that.”

“Looks to me as though the mule had won the decision,” said Bobby. “How about it, Lee?”

“Oh, they can’t give up now,” said Lee. “That mule would never be worth a cent to us again if they let him win. But I’m going to see if a little strategy won’t help them out.”

“You two wait a minute,” he called to the negroes, who were by now both on the safe side of the fence, mopping at their streaming faces, and started on a run for the barn. He soon emerged, carrying a heaped measure with oats. Baldy was at the other end of the yard, watching proceedings with deep suspicion. Lee emptied the oats on the ground within two feet of the fence, and then rejoined his friends.

“You two wait until he starts to eat the oats, and then jump on him,” he shouted to the negroes.

“Yessah,” responded Mose, with a grin. “’Clare to goodness, Ah’d clean forgot dat you can ketch more flies wid honey dan yuh can wid vinegar.”

When Baldy saw the tempting heap of oats, it occurred to him that a little something to eat wouldn’t be so bad, and he sidled over to them and began eating. The darkeys secured the harness that they had been forced to drop, and crept cautiously up on the mule, who was now thinking only of how delicious oats could taste to a hungry mule. Mose mounted the fence just back of old Baldy, while his companion crept close to the mule’s other side. Suddenly Mose leaped squarely on his back. With a frightened snort the mule jerked his head up, and at that second Mose slipped the heavy collar over his neck. At the same moment the other negro slipped the bridle over his head, forced the bit into his mouth, and before he could flick his tail old Baldy found himself arrayed in harness. The suddenness of the attack seemed to take all the spirit out of the mule, and when he found himself actually harnessed he submitted with only a few feeble kicks and bucks as protest against the trick that had been played on him. He was soon hitched to the wagon, and it rattled out of the yard with the two colored men on the seat laughing and throwing insults at the subdued Baldy.

“That was some inspiration you had, Lee,” said Bobby. “I thought at one time you’d have to call in the police if you wanted to get him harnessed.”

“Oh, that’s an old trick,” said the Southern lad. “I’ve seen those same darkeys do the same thing, but I guess this time they were so rattled they didn’t think of it.”

“Well, I’m glad they didn’t do that at the beginning,” said Fred. “We’d have missed a lot of fun if they had. I don’t think I’ll ever forget how funny Mose looked streaking for the fence with that mule snapping his teeth right behind him.”

“Yes, old Mose was a scared darkey, all right,” laughed Lee. “But now, I don’t know about you fellows, but I for one am beginning to feel as though I could appreciate some of Aunt Dinah’s cooking.”

“Well, suppose you lead us to it and let us show you how we feel about it,” said Bobby. “As they often remind us in school, it’s deeds that count, not words.”

“All right, then, just follow me and I’ll give you a chance to demonstrate,” said Lee.

“Lead on,” said Fred, “and remember that we’re with you to the last doughnut.”

“Oh, I know I can count on you,” returned Lee, as he and his friends headed for the house. “But I know you can’t eat too much to suit Aunt Dinah. The more you pack away, the more she thinks you like her cooking. She is sure an artist when, it comes to performing on a cook stove.”

Arrived at the house, the boys found that Lee’s praise of Aunt Dinah’s abilities had been well founded. Creamy, luscious biscuits, tender, juicy fried chicken, with various tempting side dishes, were topped off by an apple pie that Fred later referred to as “a dream,” and when they finally adjourned to the spacious veranda they felt at peace with all the world.

“Why, I feel so good I think I could even forgive Ap Plunkit for soaking me with a baseball, the way he did last season,” said Fred.

“Well, Lee, if you ever had a grudge against Fred, now’s the time to hit him,” said Bobby. “He wouldn’t even try to hit you back. He’d just shake hands with you and forgive you.”

“I’d advise you to try it,” said Lee, scornfully. “I know it always takes an awful lot to make Fred mad, but still, I’m not going to chance it.”

Mrs. Cartier, who was an interested listener, laughed. “That’s all that boys seem to think of – eating and fighting,” she said. “Sometimes I wonder how they ever get time to study.”

“Well,” said Bobby, “at school, especially, there always seems to be some one who’ll bully everybody else, if he gets the chance, and so once in a while we just have to show him that he can’t.”

“I suppose so,” she said. “The world always seems to have plenty of trouble makers.”

CHAPTER XV

THE LAND SHARK

“Like Jim Boolus, for instance,” said Lee, his face clouding over. “What is he up to now, Mother? Has he been trying to make trouble again?”

“He’s always trying to do that,” responded Mrs. Cartier, “and the worst of it is, he so often succeeds.”

“Lee was telling us something about him,” said Bobby, “but I’m afraid Fred and I don’t understand it very well, anyway.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Cartier, “our family has owned this plantation over a hundred years, and until recently there was no question of our ownership. But now, this Jim Boolus has laid claim to all the southern half of our land, and while we and all our neighbors are morally certain that his claim is dishonest, we find it a difficult thing to prove according to law.”

“You see,” explained Lee, “when my great-grandfather bought this land it was wild country, nothing but woods and swamps. He had it surveyed at that time, and the four corners were marked off by four large stones. When he bought the land, the southern end included a small part of the big swamp, or Shadow Swamp, as it is known in this neighborhood. The first Cartier, by means of hard work and at great expense, managed to drain the part of the swamp included in his land, and it was on this reclaimed land that the boundary stones were set up. For many years this was one of the most fertile parts of the plantation, but then came the war, and while that was going on the swamp crept up on the drained land and swallowed it up, and with it the boundary stones that would, I believe, prove our ownership.”

“But couldn’t the swamp be drained again?” asked Bobby. “If it were, maybe the stones could be located again.”

“No,” said Lee, shaking his head doubtfully, “the chances are the stones would have sunk below the surface of the ground by now, and anyway, it would cost so much to drain it now that it would be out of the question for us.”

“Is it such a big swamp, Lee?” inquired Fred.

“Oh, yes, it covers a good many miles. For the most part, nobody can get through it at all, but there are one or two secret paths through it, and I’ve been told that there are small bits of dry ground, too, if you know where to find them. Some of the negroes around here know their way through, and before the war runaway slaves used to hide there sometimes. But any one who didn’t know the place would probably get lost and swallowed up before he’d fairly got into it.”

“Sounds inviting, all right,” said Fred. “The more I hear about it, the more I think it would be a good adventure to explore it.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you were as familiar with the place as we people around here are,” said Mrs. Cartier, shaking her head. “Two sons of a neighbor of ours were lost in it two or three years ago, not to mention many others.”

Fred said no more at that time, but Bobby, who was nearest him thought he heard him mutter something about “better luck next time.”

“But you were telling us something about a river that ran near the plantation, weren’t you?” asked Bobby. “Whereabouts does that lie?”

“Well, it’s that river that really makes the swamp, in a way,” explained Lee. “The country is rather low hereabouts, anyway, and when the river hits the swamp it spreads out. You can follow its course right through, though, and come out on the other side, if you don’t happen to get pocketed in some blind bayou or lagoon.”

“Well, perhaps we could do some exploring by water, anyway,” suggested Fred, hopefully.

“That is possible,” said Mrs. Cartier. “We have a small motor boat, and any time you boys care to use it you may have it.”

“That will be fine!” exclaimed Bobby and Fred.

“We can go to-morrow afternoon, if you want,” said Lee. “I want to drive to the village in the morning to get some things for mother, but if we start early, we can get back in time to get the boat and go for a short trip, anyway.”

Both Bobby and Fred were enthusiastic at the prospect, and for the rest of the evening little else was talked of except plans for the coming outing.

It was arranged that Bobby should accompany Lee on his trip to the village, while Fred was to stay at home and look over the motor boat to make sure that everything was in readiness to start when his two friends got back. After making these arrangements, the boys said good-night to Mrs. Cartier, and went to their rooms. They were all three excited at the prospect of fun and adventure the next day.

CHAPTER XVI

JIM BOOLUS APPEARS

The three boys slept the deep and dreamless sleep of healthy boyhood, and only woke when the sun was streaming in at their windows.

“What do you know about that?” said Fred, as he leaped out of bed and started dressing in a wild attempt to overcome lost time. “We were going to get an early start, and here it is nearly eight o’clock and we’re just getting up.”

“Well, Lee said they never had breakfast before eight or half past,” said Bobby, “so probably if we hurry we’ll be all right anyway. There’s no use our rushing ourselves when nobody else does.”

“Yes, but that motor boat may need some fixing,” said Fred. “Motor boats almost always do, as far as I can see.”

“Mrs. Cartier said that this boat was in perfect order,” Bobby reminded him.

“There never was a motor boat that was in perfect order,” retorted Fred. “At least, that’s what I heard my uncle tell my father, and he’s had so many of them he ought to know by this time.”

“You don’t seem very hopeful about it,” said Bobby, laughing. “But here I am dressed before you, even though you started first. That proves that it doesn’t pay to get excited.”

“Well, I never did anything yet that did pay,” declared Fred. “The only kind of things I seem to know how to do are the things that cost money.”

“Aw, come on and have breakfast,” said Bobby, “maybe you’ll feel better then.”

“Well, I’m willing to find out, anyway,” grinned Fred, and the two sallied forth in the direction of the breakfast room. At the head of the stairs they almost bumped into Lee as he came tearing around a corner.

“Confound it!” exclaimed the Southern lad, “I’ve pretty near killed myself hurrying, thinking that you fellows would be all through breakfast, by this time, and here you are just going down.”

“Yes,” said Bobby, slyly, “if we stay here much longer, we’ll be just as lazy as the other people in this part of the world.”

“I don’t see how either one of you could get any lazier than you always have been,” laughed Lee.

“I’m not too lazy to beat you downstairs, anyway,” said Bobby, and as Lee instantly accepted the challenge by starting downstairs three steps at a time, they made a tremendous racket which brought Mrs. Cartier to the door of the breakfast room in alarm.

“Good gracious!” she exclaimed, as the boys jumped the last six steps together and landed in a heap at the bottom. “Did you fall? Is any one hurt?”

“I guess nobody’s hurt,” gasped Lee, as the laughing boys picked themselves up. “We were just trying to see who could get down first. You saw the finish, Mother – tell us who won. We’ll leave it to you.”

“I should say it was a tie,” she laughed, greatly relieved. “It looked to me as though you all landed in a heap at the same time. Bobby seemed to be on top, so probably he won.”

“Well, we’ll let it go at that,” grinned her son. “I wonder what Aunt Dinah has fixed us up for breakfast.”

“Perhaps you’d better go in and see,” answered his mother, and the boys were not slow in following her advice. The old Southern mammy had provided in her usual bounteous manner, but the boys were in too much of a hurry to properly appreciate all the good things spread out before them. Even Lee hurried, with the result that in a very short time they found themselves out at the barn, where Mose had a horse already harnessed.

“We’ll make the best time we can, and get back early,” promised Lee, as he and Bobby climbed into the buggy.

“All right, I’ll be waiting for you,” responded Fred, and his two friends dashed out of the yard, upsetting the dignity of numerous hens, who flapped wildly to right and left, squawking their protests.

“Now, if you’ll show me the motor boat, Mose,” said Fred. “I’ll look it over and make sure everything is all right.”

“Yassuh,” said the darkey, “it’s a goodish piece from here, but Ah reckons us kin walk it in fifteen minutes.”

“Guess I can stand it if you can,” said Fred, and they started out.

Meantime, Lee and Bobby had reached the dusty highroad and were going along at a spanking pace. Their horse had been in pasture several days with nothing to do, and seemed to enjoy a good run with nothing but the light buggy behind him.

“If we can keep this up, it won’t take us long,” observed Bobby.

“Yes, but we can’t,” said Lee. “There is some pretty sandy going before we hit town, and that will slow old Jerry down.”

They soon reached a bad stretch of sandy road, which was so narrow that there was no more than room enough for one carriage. When two met, each had to pull partly off the road in order to pass, and this happened once or twice, the drivers of the other outfits recognizing Lee and greeting him pleasantly.

After passing the last rig, they had gone perhaps half a mile, old Jerry stopping at frequent intervals to rest, when they saw another buggy approaching them. As it drew nearer, Lee gave an exclamation.

“What’s the matter?” inquired Bobby. “Anything wrong?”

Lee’s face was flushed as he pointed to the oncoming buggy.

“There comes the meanest man in the world,” he exclaimed, his voice shaking. “That’s Jim Boolus, the fellow that’s trying to steal our land.”

The buggies were quite close together by this time, and the man in the other one evidently overheard Lee’s last words. He was a lean, dyspeptic looking old fellow, and the look of hatred and rage that his face now wore did little to improve his appearance.

“You’d better be keerful, young feller,” he snarled, as the buggies came close, “there’s a law in the land for them as uses hard words.”

“Yes, and there’s a law for people who try to steal what doesn’t belong to them, too,” retorted Lee. “Pull out there and let us pass, please.”

CHAPTER XVII

THE RUNAWAY HORSE

“Pull out yourselves, consarn ye!” shouted Jim Boolus, his face purple with rage. Then, seeing that Lee made no move, he suddenly snatched his whip from its socket, and made a savage cut at Lee’s horse.

Old Jerry reared and would have bolted forward, had not Lee held him quiet with all the strength he possessed. Bobby was infuriated by Boolus’ cruel action, and in a second he was out of the buggy and was leading the old miser’s horse off the road. With a yelp of rage Boolus made a cut at him with his whip, but Bobby dodged just in time, and the stinging lash landed on Boolus’ horse instead. The unfortunate animal, already greatly excited by the altercation, gave a leap to one side, cramping the front wheels against the buggy. The light rig careened over, and then, as the horse started forward at top speed, it turned over completely, rolling Boolus out into the deep sand at the roadside. The frightened horse dragged the overturned buggy a short distance, but then his harness broke, and he streaked down the road in a cloud of dust and sand, leaving the wrecked buggy lying on its side.

Jim Boolus staggered to his feet and gazed after his fast disappearing horse for an instant, then turned toward the boys. For a moment they were bewildered at the sudden development of events, but when they saw that Boolus was unhurt the comic side of it struck them both at the same time, and they shouted with laughter. But their discomfitted enemy failed to see any humor in the situation.

“I’ll sue ye for this, see if I don’t!” he yelled, dancing about in his rage. “You’ll pay for that buggy, or I’ll know the reason why.”

“I don’t see where I come in,” said Lee. “You hit your own horse and he ran away. Both of us saw you do it, and we could swear to it in court. You don’t suppose any one around here would believe you if you tried to tell them anything else, do you?”

Boolus glared at the boys, but the truth of what Lee said was so evident that he could think of no suitable retort.

“And now,” continued Lee, “I and my friend here wish you a very pleasant walk to wherever it is you were going,” and with these words he spoke to Jerry, who started off. As they looked back the boys could see the old skinflint still standing in the road shaking his fists at them, until a sudden turn hid him from view.

“Well, that’s one time Mr. Jim Boolus got the worst of it,” said Bobby, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes. “The look on his face as he picked himself out of that sand heap was worth going a long way to see.”

“It surely was,” agreed Lee, “but I’m rather sorry it happened just the same. He’ll hate us worse than ever now, and he won’t stop at anything to get even.”

“Well, don’t worry about it,” advised Bobby. “Anyway, he got the worst of it this time, so maybe he will again.”

“Well, I hope so,” said Lee. “He always does the meanest thing he can think of, anyway, so probably this won’t make much difference.”

They reached the village without further adventure. Lee carried out the commission his mother had given him, and they started back immediately.

“We’re late as it is, on account of that ruction with Boolus,” said Lee. “Fred will think we’ve gotten lost, sure.”

“I guess when we tell him what delayed us he won’t mind very much,” said Bobby, with a twinkle in his eye. “He’ll never get over being sorry that he wasn’t with us when it happened.”

They passed the wrecked buggy lying in the same position, but there was no sign of its owner, and the boys concluded that some one had probably come along and given him a lift. When they reached the plantation, they found Fred waiting for them at the gate.

“I thought you would be here an hour ago,” he exclaimed impatiently. “What’s been keeping you?”

“Jump in, and we’ll tell you while we’re going up to the house,” said Lee, and then he and Bobby told him all about their encounter with Boolus. As Bobby had predicted, Fred was greatly disappointed at having missed the adventure.

“But I’ll have to admit you made good use of that extra hour,” he conceded. “I was getting mad as a hornet when you didn’t show up on time, because I’ve got the motor boat all provisioned and ready to start. And it’s a peach of a boat, too,” he added.

“Well, that’s the kind we want,” said Bobby. “I’m all ready to start at a moment’s notice.”

“We’ll have to go to the house first,” said Lee, “but that won’t take us long.”

To save time, Lee told Mose to go to the boat landing and wait for them there, so that he could take the horse and buggy back when they got there.

“We Southerners just hate to walk when we can ride,” he explained. “Besides, it will save time.”

Mrs. Cartier insisted that they have lunch, although if left to themselves the boys would have preferred to start their trip and eat in the boat. They told her about the encounter with Jim Boolus, and when they saw how anxious she became they felt sorry for the first time that it had happened. However, there was nothing to be done about it, and after a hasty meal they said good-by to her, jumped into the buggy, and in a short time were at the tiny boathouse.

This was situated in a small creek or inlet, and was built right over the water, so that one had only to open the doors and guide the boat out. The boat itself was a staunch little twenty-foot craft with a dependable two-cylinder motor to drive it, and Fred had seen to it that Mose should have the brass work shining. The negro had been far from enthusiastic over this job.

“Whut’s de use to scrub up all dat brass,” he had argued, “when it won’t be no time at all before de mist from de ribber has it green ag’in. Seems t’me it would be more sensible like to spend de time restin’ out in de nice warm sun.”

“You might as well say it’s no use eating because you’ll only get hungry again,” Fred had told him. “I’ll bet you don’t believe that though, do you?”

“Nossuh,” said Mose, with a broad grin, “dat’s a diff’rent breed o’ cats, suh.”

Apparently convinced by Fred’s argument, he had fallen to with a will, with such good results that the motor boat now looked spick and span enough to go in some water festival.

“It sho looks nifty,” admitted Mose, “but mah elbow aches yet when Ah reflects how hard Ah had to dig befo’ Ah got it dat way.”

“Never mind,” said Lee, as he gave the flywheel a twist that set the motor to chugging in a business-like manner. “When we come back we’ll bring you some swamp chickens for supper, Mose.”

“Whut’s dem swamp chickums?” inquired the negro. “Cain’t seem to rec’lect no sech fowl no-how.”

“Oh, certainly,” said Lee, with every appearance of conviction. “They have black combs, red tail feathers, and blue eyes. You must have seen one, haven’t you?”

“Nossuh, an’ whut’s more, Ah don’ believe dey never was no sech a kind of a chickum,” said Mose.

“All right, then, just you wait till we bring you one back,” said Lee, and guided the boat out into the sluggish river, leaving Mose scratching his woolly head on the bank.

The river was perhaps a hundred feet wide at this point, and flowed so slowly that it was hard to believe that there was any current at all. The banks were covered with trees that grew right down to the water’s edge at this point, but as the little craft chugged its way upstream, the trees gave way to high, rank grass, with here and there a lofty cypress tree shooting up out of the rank vegetation.

“We’re on the edge of the swamp country now,” explained Lee. “In another hour we’ll be right in the heart of it.”

CHAPTER XVIII

A SCOUNDREL’S TRICK

“What’s the chance of catching some fish?” inquired Bobby. “There’s nothing better than fresh caught fish grilled over a wood fire.”

“There are plenty of fish if you have the luck to catch them,” said Lee. “They generally eat the bait off my hook, and then go away laughing at me.”

“Huh, I never saw a fish laugh, myself,” said Fred; “it must be very interesting.”

“Oh, it is,” Lee gravely assured him. “We’ll just land at a good place I know of, and maybe you can have a demonstration.”

They chugged on a little further, and then Lee gave the wheel a twist and headed for a high green bank that rose above the general level of the flat swamp country. When about two hundred feet away he shut off the motor, and the boat glided gently on with its momentum and grounded easily on the muddy bank.

“Here we are,” said the Southern youth. “Get out your fishing lines, and we’ll see what we can do.”

It did not take the boys long to rig up their tackle, and then Lee jumped ashore, followed by Bobby and Fred. Together they pulled the bow of the boat up onto the bank, and then cast their bait.

“Now to hear the laughing fish,” said Fred. “Do they laugh very loud, Lee?”

“Not as loud as some poor fish that I know of,” retorted Lee.

“Wow!” exclaimed Bobby, laughing. “That had all the earmarks of a dig, Lee.”

Fred opened his mouth to make a cutting remark, but at that moment his reel whizzed, and for the next five minutes he was too busy to say a word. The fish fought gamely, and the frail rod at times bent almost double and threatened to snap. But at last Fred landed the gleaming fish on the grass.

“Good work!” applauded Lee. “After that I take back my unkind words, Fred.”

“That’s all right,” said Fred, “nothing could make me mad now. Isn’t that fish a beauty? I’ll bet he weighs all of three pounds.”