<h2 id="c22">CHAPTER XXII. <br/><span class="small">THE MAN-TRAP.</span></h2>
<p>“Seems like it took a scout to do the job, and
make such an important discovery!” Step Hen
hastened to remark, apparently proud of the fact
that he too wore that magical khaki uniform.</p>
<p>“But where’s the gun, I don’t see?” demanded
Bumpus, who seldom allowed himself to wholly
believe things, until he understood all the details,
for he could be very practical when he wanted.</p>
<p>“Watch Thad, and you’ll know,” Giraffe told
him.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_191">191</div>
<p>Thad was bending down, and to all appearances
examining the stout cord that had been drawn
directly across the trail, mostly hidden by the low
scrub. It had been arranged by a master-hand at
cunning, and was just high enough to make certain
that a careless foot would strike against it, bringing
about the immediate result that the one who
had placed it there contemplated.</p>
<p>Without even touching the cord the young scoutmaster
commenced to follow it along, foot by foot.
The sheriff’s posse, including Alligator Smith, the
swamp guide, stood there and just watched to see
what he would do. Somehow all of them seemed
to have taken a strange liking for the patrol leader.
Perhaps it was his manly bearing that made Thad
friends so quickly; while the errand that had
brought him down to Dixieland may have had more
or less to do with it; for the hearts of these Southern
boys and men are always tender toward one
who has suffered; and chivalry toward women and
girls still abounds in the South as it can be found
nowhere else in this broad land of ours.</p>
<p>But then that was an old story with Giraffe and
the rest of the fellows; ever since Thad Brewster
had come to Cranford and entered into their sports
they had been accustomed to seeing him make new
and warm friends as though he might be a wizard.</p>
<p>Meanwhile the scout was apparently nearing
the spot upon which his attention had been centered.
It was only a dozen or so feet away from the trail
and seemed to be where three trees grew up in a
queer clump, being shoots of a former swamp king
among the oaks.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_192">192</div>
<p>Here Thad paused and bent still lower.</p>
<p>“He’s struck ile!” one of the posse was heard
to say to a companion.</p>
<p>“Reckon as haow he hes, Jed,” another went on
to remark.</p>
<p>Bumpus stared as best he could, and waited impatiently
to see what would be the result of Thad’s
search. He held his breath so long, through eagerness,
that his face grew furiously red; and one of
the posse even moved a little further away from
the fat boy, possibly under the vague suspicion that
he was about to have a fit; or from some other reason.</p>
<p>“Bully for Thad!” Giraffe was heard to say, a
little louder than discretion might have dictated; at
least Allan gave him a nudge in the back, which the
tall scout understood to mean “less noise, there!”
for he cut his exultant ejaculations short, and
wilted.</p>
<p>“It’s a sure-enough gun!” admitted Bumpus,
giving a sort of whistle as he allowed his breath to
flow evenly again; just as you may have heard the
hydrant do when there is air in the pipe, and the
water has been turned on or off suddenly.</p>
<p>But then all of them had already made sure of
that same fact, even if they did not think it necessary
to announce it in the same way the fat scout
did.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_193">193</div>
<p>Thad came back to where they were grouped,
awaiting him, and holding in his hand the gun he
had unfastened from amidst the three saplings,
where some one had secured it, with the muzzle
pointing straight toward the spot at which the
trail was crossed by that concealed cord.</p>
<p>“It was a sure enough man-trap!” Davy remarked,
in considerable awe, as he noted that the
hammer of the old gun was still drawn back, as
though ready to be discharged with the slightest
pull.</p>
<p>Bumpus noticed that there still hung from the
trigger a foot or so of that cord and from this he
judged Thad must have just drawn the blade of his
knife gently across the taut line; as the scout-master
was very particular to always keep his hunting
knife in perfect condition, the edge of the blade was
as keen as a razor, and would sever that cord without
the slightest influence upon the gun.</p>
<p>“Well, that was a smart dodge, all right!” the
Dixie sheriff remarked, admiringly, as Thad handed
him the gun, which seemed to be an old musket,
such as several of the posse were even then carrying,
and which had perhaps played its part during
those troublous times many years back, when the
yankee horde invaded Southern pastures, and gradually,
through force of numbers, drove the gallant
Confederates to the wall.</p>
<p>“Of course it was aiming right this way, Thad?”
remarked Step Hen.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_194">194</div>
<p>“Yes, if any one of us had been silly enough to
drag that cord with our feet, the gun would have
been fired, and whatever it contains must have
come this way, with more or less painful results,”
the other informed him.</p>
<p>“Huh! looks to me like it’d hold just about a
pint of bullets, old nails or anything else that’s
calculated to give trouble,” said Davy, as he respectfully
touched the rusty old weapon that Jasper
must have fetched along especially for the purpose
to which it had been put.</p>
<p>“And,” Thad continued, “you can see how he
expected it to serve two purposes; for besides standing
a chance of wounding some one when it went
off, the gun would give him warning, and he could
have time to escape. It was a clever trick, and
shows us what sort of smart rascal we’re looking
up.”</p>
<p>“An I wanter say right heah,” remarked Alligator
Smith, frankly; “thet it’s all owin’ tuh them
sharp eyes o’ yourn we ain’t riddled afore now by
the shot er bullets as mout be in this yer gun; ’case
I admits as how I never sot out tuh look to’ any
sech contraption in ther grass er brush; an’ chances
air I’d gone stumblin’ right acrost, so as tuh draw
thet trigger, an’ upset theh fat in theh fire, even
if I war lucky enuff tuh ’scape gettin’ plugged myself.
Arter this I’m agwine tuh larn more ’bout
scouts an’ sech. Seems like they knows ther bizness;
an’ even a ole swamp hunter like me kin larn
somethin’ frum theh same.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_195">195</div>
<p>“Hurrah!” said Giraffe; but he knew Allan
was standing close beside him, and not feeling like
drawing another stiff dig in the ribs as a reproof,
he just whispered the one word, while pretending
to clap his hands; for these boys were justly proud
of their calling, and could never hear words of
praise uttered for scout-craft without a personal
sense of satisfaction.</p>
<p>“Well, that’s one game failed, anyway!” Bumpus
was heard to say, half to himself, as though in
imagination he was thus decreasing the perils that
he expected were lying in wait along their course.</p>
<p>“They’ll all fall before us, see if they don’t,”
Davy Jones went on to say, as though his confidence
had grown by leaps and bounds, and had reached a
final stage when he saw Thad nip the plot of the
enemy so neatly.</p>
<p>“Sometime I’d just like to take the trouble to
draw the load he put in that old musket,” Step Hen
told Smithy, who was close to his elbow.</p>
<p>“Whatever good would that do you?” asked the
other, who could not understand why any one could
allow his curiosity to make him so much unnecessary
work; for while Smithy had reformed in
many ways, he still “shirked” a little, Thad had
often noticed, for he had never been shown the delight
of <i>doing things</i>.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_196">196</div>
<p>“Well, don’t you understand that it might give
a fellow a certain amount of satisfaction to know
what a narrow escape he had?” asked the other.
“Suppose now, I was to extract seven bullets, sixteen
rusty nails, a couple of marbles, four screws
and a few other things I just can’t think of, from
that old cannon, wouldn’t the sight of the lot make
me gladder than ever that Thad found it out in
time; and that we didn’t get that wagon-load of
stuff turned in on us, backed by six drams of black
powder? Smithy, you ain’t got any idea of being
thankful over things. Just however would you
be able to keep on talking in that stilted lawyer-like
way you’ve got, if a nail had knocked a bunch of
teeth out—tell me that, will you?”</p>
<p>“Aw! keep still, there, Step Hen, this ain’t the
place for arguments like that. Just wait till we’ve
got to the end of the trail, and then some!”</p>
<p>Strange to say it was neither Thad nor Allan
who took the trouble to admonish the talkative
scout in this fashion, but Giraffe himself. Since
he was debarred from giving <i>his</i> opinion by the
proximity of Allan and his ready hand, the tall
member of the patrol evidently thought that he
could at least find some satisfaction by passing the
reproof along; since misery likes company.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_197">197</div>
<p>But all the same, while Step Hen did relapse into
silence after being told so plainly that he had no
business to air his views, he took especial pains to
notice where Thad laid the old rusty musket down
in a clump of brush.</p>
<p>“Huh! reckon I could find that place again,
easy,” the boy was telling himself in confidence;
“and I will, too, if everything passes off comfy,
and we get our man. Guess there ain’t much danger
of our missing connections there, with such a
bully mob to surround the place, and fellows like
our Thad to think up things. I want to just show
Smithy what there is in that gun, and s’prise him,
that’s all.”</p>
<p>Now that the trail could be followed once more
without much danger of another man-trap, Thad
and the swamp-guide were again starting out;
though the latter before taking a step had made
sure to add further warning to what he had already
said about every one keeping as still as possible.</p>
<p>Really there was little need of saying that, for
it was easy to see from the set looks on all those
faces how the men and boys were alive to the occasion,
and not likely to risk spoiling the surround
by any incautious move, or loud unnecessary talk.</p>
<p>One thing at least favored them a little. This
was the breeze, which seemed to be blowing directly
in their faces. Thus any sounds they might happen
to make would not be carried ahead, as would
have been the case should they have been traveling
<i>down</i> the wind.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_198">198</div>
<p>This probably came about by sheer accident;
but all the same it was noticed by those of the
scouts who were woodsmen enough to pay attention
to small things; and of course Thad and the swamp-hunter
had known of it all along.</p>
<p>The boys presently realized that they must be
close upon the broad slough spoken of by Tom
Smith, when he declared that the sunken ridge
which must be followed was the only way he knew
about whereby passage might be effected, so as to
reach the higher island wooded beyond; though he
had at the same time admitted that Jasper might
have some other means for escaping if hard pressed,
discovered when, as a boy, he frequently visited this
section of the swamp.</p>
<p>“There she is!” muttered Giraffe, and Bumpus,
hearing the low words, raised his eyes from
the ground, to stare ahead at the prospect facing
them.</p>
<p>It did not require any particular knowledge of
woodcraft to proclaim that what the elongated
scout had remarked was quite true, for the dreadful
bog might have no substantial bottom short of
a hundred feet, was before them.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_199">199</div>
<p>It looked bad to Bumpus, stretching away for
several hundred yards to where the trees again
grew heavily on solid ground. The ooze was deceptive.
It had a green scum on the surface in
places, as though some verdure had taken root, but
in all probability had any one ventured to trust his
weight upon such deceptive spots he must have
speedily found himself immersed in muck up to his
knees, or worse, and unable alone and unaided to
ever keep himself from sinking gradually deeper
and deeper, until it was over his head.</p>
<p>Bumpus shivered as he looked. It was as though
he felt in his very bones that an unkind fate destined
him to make the test as to whether the bad
name given to this bog were well deserved, or not.</p>
<p>As they stood there on the edge looking out,
while the alligator hunter was making sure that he
knew exactly where to enter the muck bed, so as
to feel out the sunken roadway that wound in zig-zag
fashion over to the island, good-natured Bob
White felt some one poke him in the side.</p>
<p>Looking down he saw the solemn face of Bumpus
there; and there was an expression of almost
pitiful appeal in the eyes of the fat scout, such as
the Southern boy remembered once noticing in the
brown orbs of a deer he had wounded, and which
had to be put out of its misery.</p>
<p>But then of course he did not anticipate that
Bumpus was going to ask him to do the merciful
thing by him, and end his sufferings; though he understood
plainly enough that the stout scout was
enduring some sort of agony of mind.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_200">200</div>
<p>“Will you do me a favor, a great favor, Bob,
<i>please</i>?” Bumpus whispered, looking quickly around
at the same time, as though wishing to make sure
that neither Davy nor Giraffe were close enough to
overhear what he said.</p>
<p>“To be sure I will, Bumpus,” quickly replied the
other; “anything within reason you can count on
me doing, suh. I believe in scouts standing by
each other.”</p>
<p>“Oh! thank you, Bob; it’s kind of you to say
that,” Bumpus went on, as he tried to thrust something
into the hand of the other. “Please take
this, and if it does happen, pull like everything; because
I’m heavy, you know, and chances are I’d sink
quicker’n any of the rest of you.”</p>
<p>“But—this is a piece of heavy cord, Bumpus, perhaps
the same that was stretched across the trail a
little while ago?” exclaimed the astonished Bob.</p>
<p>“That’s right, I was quick to see how I might
use it, for scouts are expected to keep their brains
moving all the time. You see,” continued Bumpus,
confidingly. “I just feel it in my bones that I’ll
be the one to miss connections with that crazy old
hidden path, and fall slap into the mud, and I’ve
got the other end tied under my arms; so in case
you hear a splash, be ready to hold tight, Bob.
That’s a good fellow!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_201">201</div>
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