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

“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.