The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Boy Chums in the Gulf of Mexico, by Wilmer M. Ely.

The sailor's rough features worked with emotion. "I remember part," he cried. "Our vessel struck on Needle Rocks in the darkness an' went down like a stone. I had just time to throw myself on the hatch an' pass a rope around my waist. The crew," he shuddered—"must have all been dashed to pieces against the rocks. God knows how I escaped. An' yo' risked yo'r lives to save mine, yo' an' that boy. Mon, how could yo' forgive me enough to do such a deed?"

"I am Rufus Sanders, the Key West sponger who refused yo'r appeals for help an' left yo' to yo'r fate," cried the man, excitedly.

"I did not know that, but it would have made no difference," said the captain, gently. "You were a helpless, shipwrecked man." He checked the flood of thanks on the sponger captain's lips. "You have nothing to thank us for," he declared. "We have only saved you from one fate to suffer a worse with us. We are hopelessly imprisoned on this island, an' we have no water. All we can do is endure, pray an' hope."

CHAPTER XXVI.
WITH THE BOYS.

Considering the misfortunes which had befallen them, the two chums were in surprisingly good spirits, as they picked their way through the marsh, headed South. It was a relief to be free from the dread and apprehension under which they had labored for so many days.

"I feel almost as though we were on a picnic, instead of being shipwrecked sailors who have been robbed of their ship, and have lost all except the clothes on their backs," Charley declared.

"Everything is going to turn out all right after all," agreed Walter, hopefully. "Chris is going to get over his wound all right. He and the captain will have no trouble in getting plenty of food and water. We had ought to reach Judson by dark, and we'll get a boat or wagon and return for them at once. We can easily get from Judson to Tarpon, and there we can get the United States Commissioner to take up our case, and the minute the 'Beauty' enters port she will be seized and held for us. At the worst it will only mean the loss of our diving boat and a little patient waiting. And think of the store of gold which will be ours for a little work."

But his chum was not quite so optimistic. "I do not think that we had better build too great hopes on recovering either our ship or the gold," he observed. "That Manuel is a clever rascal. I fear he will rise to the occasion. He may think that we are wrecked in the storm but I am convinced he will take no chances. He will plan and scheme to the last to secure the ship and money and save his own neck from the halter. He may be caught at last but he will not sail boldly into any port. He's too wary for that."

His words did not dampen Walter's high spirits. "There is a revenue cutter at Tarpon," reminded his chum. "As soon as we get to Judson, we will telegraph to the Commissioner. He will not wait for the 'Beauty' to touch a port if we can put our case strong enough. He will start the cutter out in search of her at once."

"I hope you are right. If we are going to make Judson before dark, however, we are going to have to travel faster than we are going now. It's slow going amongst this mud and rock. Let us make our way inshore and see if it's any better traveling there."

But as they approached close to the mainland they saw that there was no hopes of easier traveling in that direction. The dense hammock jungle extended down to the edge of the marsh. To make one's way through it would be far slower than to continue over the marsh. They, accordingly, retraced their steps to the water's edge. It was slightly easier traveling close to the water. The waves had beat down the marsh grass along the edge leaving a kind of beach of rock and mud. It was hard and dangerous walking but safer than over the marsh itself, where the rank growth hid the treacherous bog holes.

The boys often paused in their march to examine the masses of stuff that had been cast up by the waves. The squall of the night before had robbed the bottom of great masses of seaweed and had taken heavy toll of the life in the water. Every few minutes the lads would pass great clumps of seaweed tangled together in beautiful rainbows of bright scarlets, yellows, crimsons and purples. Curiously enough, the storm had dealt very harshly with the finny tribe. Likely many of the fish had been caught in shoal water and their lives beaten out against the cruel rocks. They dotted the shore and the chums frequently halted to admire one's curious shape or coloring.

"I wonder what kind this one is?" said Walter, pointing to a long slim fish of a beautiful brilliant green.

"That is a parrot fish," his chum enlightened him. "I think they are one of the most beautiful fishes that swim. They are of all colors, some are violet, some of golden, some scarlet, and in fact, they are found of every shade and hue. They get their names from their many brilliant colors, I guess."

"What a wonderful mysterious thing the sea is," Walter commented. "I never realized before how much of strange life it contains."

"What we see along the beach this morning is only a very small sample of its population," his chum replied. "Sometimes, I think that all life must have come first from the sea. There is hardly an animal on land which has not a grotesque likeness in some creature of the sea. Take that fish there with the peculiarly shaped head and horns. Its resemblance to a cow is so striking that it has been named the cow fish. There is another little fish with a head just like a horse. It is called the sea horse. Then there is the toad fish, the frog fish, the snake fish, and hundreds of others closely resembling the animals after which they are named. But here," he concluded, "is, in my opinion, the most wonderful fish I have ever heard of. I have seen many of them but one always has a puzzling fascination to me."

He had stopped before a flat round-shaped fish which lay stranded in the edge of the water. It was still alive and struggling feebly to get back into deeper water. It was of a light-tan color and was covered with spots of darker hue. On its upper surface was a soft, spongy-looking, circular spot It was not a pretty looking object and Walter viewed it with disgust.

"Just put your finger on that soft spongy place," Charley directed, "that's where it's wonderful secret is concealed. It is not poisonous," he added as his chum hesitated.

Walter bent down and pressed his finger against the spongy mass. The next instant he leaped back with a cry of alarm, shaking his arm madly. "Jerusalem!" he exclaimed. "What is it?"

"Got a shock did you?" laughed his chum. "That's an electrical fish. Their mystery to me lies in where they get the electricity with which they are charged. Even a small one like that contains enough to give a powerful shock."

The morning had been advancing rapidly as they walked and talked and the sun was shining down hot on their bare heads. Charley, justifying Chris' confidence in him, was quick to recognize the danger from its torrid rays.

He cast a look up at the sun. "It is nearly noon," he declared. "We must get something to cover our heads with and then find something to eat. I am getting as hungry as a wolf."

There was nothing along the rocky, muddy beach that would do for hats and the two bent their steps in towards the mainland. There, they broke off small leafy branches and thrust the stems down the backs of their shirts so that the leaves would tower above, and shade their heads. These made only a poor substitute for hats, but shed off the fiercest rays of the sun.

Close to where they broke off the boughs was a small running stream and the boys drank thankfully of its cold sweet water.

"We have no time to waste in cooking and I fear our bill-o-fare for dinner will be rather scanty," Charley said. "Let's look around here and see if we cannot find fruit of some kind."

There were palmetto berries in plenty all along the high bank but the lads had no desire to partake of them except in a case of necessity. Seeing nothing promising along the edge of the jungle, they scrambled up the bank and made their way slowly and cautiously into the hammock, keeping a wary eye out for snakes. They found fruit of several kinds in abundance, but most of it Charley rejected as being poisonous, or not fit to eat. They gathered two kinds which he declared were both palatable and nourishing. One was a golden-red fruit about the size of a pear. It contained a large nut to which the meat clung closely. One bite into it and the boys' hands and faces were smeared with sticky juice. "I would recognize that smeary juice and strong turpentine flavor, anywhere," laughed Walter, "these are mangoes, the fruit, they say, you have got to get into a bath-tub to eat if you want to keep clean."

The second fruit was about the size of a large plum and snow white in color with a blotch of red on the sides. Its meat was sweet, milky and slightly puckering.

"They are cocoa-plums," Charley explained. "They are considered quite nutritious but I would be afraid to eat a great many of them at a time on account of their puckerishness. We can eat all we want to of the mangoes however, they will not hurt us."

As soon as their repast was finished the boys filled their pockets with mangoes and cocoa-plums and hastened back to the shore.

They plodded steadily along while the afternoon wore away, but their progress over the rocks and mud was slow and they realized that they would not be able to reach Judson before darkness rendered further traveling dangerous.

They were passing a matted clump of seaweed on the shore when Charley, stopping with a cry of delight, fished out from its midst a round piece of wood about four feet in length, from which trailed a long, light line badly frayed in places by the rock.

"It's the buoy that marked the place where the gold ship lay. The Greeks will have a job to locate the gold now. That storm must have chafed the rope in two against a ledge of coral. Hurrah, hurrah."

"I don't see but that is as bad news for us as for the Greeks," Walter said, dubiously.

"It is, in a way," his chum replied. "Of course it will make it harder for us to find the exact spot where the treasure lays, but the Greeks will be delayed by it and that will give us a chance to get there with the revenue cutter and catch them before they get all the gold removed and get away."

CHAPTER XXVII.
THE JOURNEY.

It still lacked about an hour to sundown when Charley called a halt. "We cannot possibly make Judson before night, and it would be sheer foolishness to try to travel over these rocks after it gets dark," he declared. "We would be sure to get some bad falls and very likely break an arm or leg. The best thing we can do is to find a good place to camp while it is still light and make ourselves as snug as possible for the night."

Walter, who was beginning to feel tired out from the long day's tramp, was quick to agree with his proposal and the two lads headed in for the mainland, for neither felt any desire to spend the night on the wet, muddy marsh.

Good fortune seemed to guide their footsteps for they struck the mainland just where a little stream of clear water bubbled forth amongst a clump of towering cedars.

"The very place for our camp," Charley exclaimed. "You see what you can fix up in the way of a shelter, Walt, while I look around and see what I can find for our supper."

Walter was fast becoming an adept at the science of woodcraft and he went about his task with certainty and dispatch. First, he broke off armsful of small boughs which he spread in two piles upon the ground close to the trunks of two big cedar trees. These were to serve as their couches and over them he proceeded to erect a rough lean-to to protect them from the wind and dew. There were plenty of dead boughs all around, and, selecting two of the longest and straightest, he leaned them against the trunk of the two trees about six feet from the ground, embedding their other ends firmly in the ground. Across these, he laid other limbs a couple of feet apart and upon them piled palmetto leaves and boughs to form a roof. Before the open front of the rude structure, he built a roaring fire of dead cedar limbs. Close beside it he piled up a huge heap of wood with which to keep the fire replenished throughout the night. This completed his labors, and stretching himself upon his springy, fragrant couch before the crackling fire, he waited hungrily for his chum's return. He was becoming alarmed over his long absence when there came a crackling of boughs and Charley strode into the circle of firelight, bearing in one hand a snow-white heart, or bud, of a cabbage palmetto and in the other, a chunk of fresh meat several pounds in weight.

Charley grinned, "I'm too hungry to stop and tell you now. Sharpen up a couple of sticks and we'll broil some steaks, then, I'll give you three guesses as to what it is, and bet that you don't guess right."

Walter hastily cut two long green palmetto stems and sharpened them to points at the ends. By the time he had them ready, Charley had cut a couple of generous-sized steaks from the hunk of meat. The balance of it he wrapped up in a couple of green palmetto leaves and buried in the coals. While the steaks impaled upon the sticks were sizzling appetizingly before the fire, he wrapped up the palmetto heart in green leaves and buried it beside the roasting meat.

So hungry was Walter that he cut bits from his steak before it was fairly done and devoured them with eager appetite.

"Fine, it only needs a little salt to make it perfect," Walter declared. "I can't quite place it though. It tastes like a cross between pork and beefsteak. What is it anyway?"

"I found it on the bank of a little creek not far from here," said Charley, dreamily. "It was sound asleep and it did not look very pretty or innocent even in its slumber, but beggars can't be choosers, so I got me a good heavy club and crept up on it softly. When it woke up I was near enough to give it a good rap over the head. It gave me a couple of good licks in the shins with its tail, however, before I got it killed."

Walter rose in his indignation, "Why didn't you tell me at the start that it was alligator meat," he demanded, "I would not have eaten a mouthful of it."

"And you'd gone hungry to bed," said his chum with a chuckle. "You'd have let your prejudice cheat you out of a good meal. It tastes all right, don't it."

"Yes," Walter admitted, ruefully, "and, now that I've eaten some of it, I might as well keep right on eating."

"Wise lad," Charley approved. "Let me tell you there are lots worse things than alligator steaks when one is hungry."

The steaks disposed of, the boys attacked the roasted meat and palmetto cabbage with such vigorous appetites that there was but little left when their hunger was at last appeased.

"Pretty slim show for breakfast," said Charley, ruefully, as he eyed the scanty remains. "Let's see if we can't fix up some way to catch something during the night."

The plan which they finally decided upon to accomplish this was very simple. With their sharp knives, they whittled out several sets of figure-four setters, and, dragging several small logs just outside the circle of firelight, they placed a figure-four setter under an end of each and baited the triggers with bits of meat left from their supper. An animal nosing around after the bait would be sure to spring the setter and cause the log to descend upon it.

"We will surely get a coon or opossum before morning," Charley declared. "Animals have lots of curiosity and some of them are sure to be attracted by the light of our camp-fire. The smell of the cooked meat will attract them also."

This last task completed, the boys stretched themselves on their soft couches before the cheery fire whose rays danced and flickered amongst the leafy greenness of their shelter. It was a cozy, cheery little camp and the two lads lay long awake, talking hopefully with the cheery optimism that waits upon a hearty supper and healthy vigorous youth. When at last they fell asleep, it was with confident hope of a successful morrow.

It seemed to Walter that he had barely fallen asleep when he was struggling in that nightmare state which lies halfway between slumber and entire wakefulness. He struggled pantingly for breath, but every breath he drew seemed to stifle him. Oppressed with black horror, he fought his way back to consciousness. But wakefulness brought small relief. The air was heavy with a stench that nauseated and sickened him.

Charley, crouched beside the fire, was holding his nose with one hand, his face expressing unutterable disgust.

"One of our traps worked," announced his chum, grimly. "It's only a little skunk, but my, what a big smell."

"I should say so," Walter agreed. "We can't stay here. We'll have to move camp."

No time was lost in debating the question and the lads quickly took their departure from their cozy camp. They made their way cautiously along the edge of the hammock until the raucous odor was left behind, then they halted and built another fire.

"The measly little varmint," said Walter, wrathfully, as they crouched beside the blaze. "He's gone and cheated us out of a good night's sleep."

"Oh, it isn't as bad as all that," said his chum, cheerfully. "It's nearly morning now. See, there's the morning star in the East. Besides," he added, whimsically, "That poor little fellow isn't to blame. He didn't ask us to set a trap for him. I bet he regrets the accident as much as we do." Then throwing back his head he sang in his clear tenor voice, "Driven From Home."

As the humor of the incident dawned upon Walter, he burst into laughter in which he was joined by his fun-loving chum.

It was too near morning to consider selecting another shelter so the two sat beside the fire until day broke, then they made their way back to the camp to examine their traps. All were sprung, but, outside of the skunk, the only victims were an opossum and a coon which they bore back to their new fire. The opossum they broiled and ate for breakfast while the coon they roasted to carry along with them for dinner.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
JUDSON.[A]

By noon the two lads estimated that they must have come at least twenty miles from where they had left the captain and Chris, and, if the old sailor had been right in his reckoning, they could not be far from their objective point, the town of Judson. They began now to keep a sharp watch ahead and ere long were rewarded by the sight of a low black line projecting out from the marsh ahead. A closer approach resolved the low black line into a long, shaky, decrepit wharf, its piling rotting from age and neglect and its timbers and planking fast falling into decay. On the mainland back of the marsh a few rude cabins, each at least a half a mile distant from its nearest neighbor, rose from the middles of wide neglected fields. One lone, aged sloop rode at anchor near the wharf. The little port and the hamlet itself seemed to wear an air of deadly decay, sadness and gloom.

"Not a very cheerful or prosperous-looking place," Charley observed as they clambered up on the wharf and made their way ashore over its shaky timbers.

"No," his chum agreed, "but I am thankful to reach it, poor as it is. My feet are getting sore from tramping over these rocks, I can tell you."

At the shore end of the dock the two paused long enough to take a more careful survey of the place.

"I declare it looks as though it was deserted or all the inhabitants dead," Walter said nervously, "See how the roads are all grown up with weeds as though they were never used. There is no sign of anyone about either."

"Just notice those cabins," his chum exclaimed, "They look just like the pictures I have seen of houses the first settlers used to build during the Indian times. They are built of great logs and have loopholes like the forts of those days. What a queer place!"

"Well, there's smoke coming from the chimney of that nearest cabin, and there seems to be someone working out in the field by it," said Walter with a sigh of relief. "I was beginning to think it was an abandoned village."

The two bent their steps towards the cabin indicated. It was set in a square clearing of about twenty acres, that was surrounded by a strip of pine woods which separated it from its nearest neighbor. As they drew nearer, they could see a man at work near the cabin. He was ploughing up the ground with a rude plow hitched to a yoke of oxen.

As the boys stepped out of the road into the clearing, they were greeted by savage barks, and a pack of dogs lolling around the cabin woke into sudden life and came tearing towards them.

The man at the plough let go the handles and sprang into the cabin. The next minute a rifle barrel protruded from one of the loopholes, "Halt right where you-all is," called a voice from behind the rifle.

"Call off your dogs," shouted Charley, as he and Walter, snatching up a couple of sticks, endeavored to keep the growling, snapping curs at bay.

"We were shipwrecked twenty-five miles up the coast. We want supplies and help to bring in two companions, one of whom is badly hurt," answered Charley.

"Come closer an' let me have a good look at you-all," commanded the cabin's occupant, "Here yu Bet, yu Tige, yu Jim, be still thar," he called to the snarling pack which slunk growling away at his harsh commands.

The boys drew near the cabin in obedience to his order. A brief survey of them seemed to convince its owner that they were not what he feared. The cabin door was flung open, and, rifle in hand, he appeared in the doorway.

"Come in you-alls an' have a cheer," he invited. "I'll jis' unhitch them oxen an' then, while I'm rustling up a bit of supper, you-alls can give me your story."

The tired, hungry boys accepted his invitation with alacrity, and, while he was busy unharnessing the yoke of steers, they seated themselves in a couple of rude home-made chairs, and gazed curiously about them.

The cabin was about twenty feet square. Its rough log walls were whitewashed, and its pine-slab floor spotlessly clean. At one end was a big old-fashioned fireplace from the rafters above which hung home-cured hams, slabs of bacon, and strings of sausages. A barrel in a corner was heaped high with huge, sweet, sugary yams. Several boxes beside it were heaped with onions, cabbages, carrots, pumpkins, and other vegetables. In another corner stood a barrel of home-ground corn meal and a big hogshead of water. Taken all in all, the little cabin's interior was a sight to fill the two hungry lads with satisfied anticipation. They had hardly completed their survey of it when their strange host entered latching and bolting the heavy door behind him.

He was a man about forty years of age, strongly built, but sallow with the sallowness of the native Floridian. His face was kindly in expression but stamped on its every line was a look of uneasiness and apprehension. It was not an expression of fear but rather the look of a brave man who was simply on his guard every moment against expected dangers.

"I sho' have got to ask you-all to excuse me fur the way I dun greeted you," he apologized, "but, you see, strangers are mighty scarse around hyar an' one has to be plum' careful. I'se powerful glad to see a new face though—it's been mighty nigh two years since I had talk with a stranger. I reckon, you-alls must be some hungry. I'll rustle up a little supper while you-all gives me your tale."

With a deftness that indicated long batching experience, he cut great slices of ham and placed them to broil over the coals, mixed a pone of corn bread and put it to bake in a Dutch oven, and buried a dozen big yams to roast among the embers. While he was thus engaged, Charley related the story of their voyage and shipwreck omitting only any mention of the gold. His story was frequently interrupted by his host's exclamations, "I swan, an' dew tell." When the lad had finished, the stranger beamed upon him with evident pleasure. "I swan, hit's jis' like a novel I read once," he declared, "hit was writ by a fellow called Russell, Clark Russell, if I don't disremember his name. I don't reckon his story was true though. I 'lows he just made it up outer his head—but the vittals is ready now, you-alls jis' back up to the table thar an' helps yourselves."

The hungry boys needed no second invitation but fell to work on the tender juicy ham and sugary yams with hearty appetites while their host as he ate, watched them with evident pleasure at their enjoyment. When all had finished, he put away the dishes, filled his corn-cob pipe, and leaned back in his chair against the wall.

"You-alls can't go back to whar yu left the captain an' the little nigger to-night, noways," he observed.

"No," Charley agreed, "but we would like to start back early in the morning if we can get a wagon or a boat."

"Thar ain't no fitten road for a wagon leading up the coast," observed their host. "I owns that little sloop anchored down thar by the dock. I reckon, you-alls could make out with her. I don't reckon them Wrights would stop you-alls from going if they understood jis' how things stood. I don't 'low they would be so pesky pisen mean as all that. I'd like to go with you-alls an' see that ole captain an' that little nigger, I sho' would."

"'Cause I don't ever expect to leave this hyar cabin alive," said his host, calmly.

A long prolonged growl came from one of the dogs outside. The man arose and taking up his rifle stepped over to the loophole beckoning to the lads to follow. The moon lit up the little clearing almost as light as day. The dogs were moving around outside, sniffing and uttering low growls.

The boys could see nothing unusual in the clearing but they felt a sense of danger in the very air. Their host's eyes, more accustomed to the surroundings than their own, evidently detected something ominous in one of the shadows thrown out from the belt of pines. He thrust the barrel of his rifle out through the loophole and the next instant its sharp crack rent the stillness of the night. The lurking shadow vanished amongst the pines with a whoop of defiance.

Their host pulled in his rifle, "A plum' miss," he said, disgustedly, "Wall, the war is on for fair now. Better outen that light an' draw your cheers up by the fire an' I'll tell you'alls about hit."

FOOTNOTE:

[A] This account of Judson is the description of a little West Florida town as it actually has been, and is to-day. Nineteen of its scanty population have died by a fierce war. The author has only changed the first letter of the town's real name.

CHAPTER XXIX.
THE FEUD.

"Thar ain't no call to keep watch at the loopholes," said their host as the alarmed lads' glances kept wandering towards the dark openings. "The dogs will tell we-alls if anyone tries to come near the cabin." He leaned back in his chair in silence for a few minutes gazing into the heart of the fire whose flickering rays lit up his bronzed, thoughtful, kindly face.

"Hit all began years ago when I warn't but a little bit of a shaver," he began, quietly. "Judson was a right-prosperous, happy, contented, little place, then. Thar was mighty nigh a hundred people living in the town, an' in the woods nigh about hyar. Each family had hit's own little cabin an' farm an' raised all hit's own living of meat, corn, taters, an' sugar cane, an' each family had hit's patch of cotton with which they bought what things they needed that they didn't raise themselves. We had a right tidy little schoolhouse. I went to hit two terms when I was a little shaver," he said with evident pride, "an' I learned how to read an' write pretty well—the reading's been a heap of company to me during the years since then. Each family had a plenty to eat an' wear, an' thar warn't none that you could call real poor people like I hearn tell you-alls have in the North. We used to have dances and barbecues, an' picnics an' a right sociable time. The town was started by two families, the Turners an' the Wrights—I'm a Turner,—an' all the people about was kin to one or the other family, which made everybody friendly and sociable with each other. Hit was jis' a little Eden on earth, this place, 'till the serpent came twisting an' crawlin' in. The devil must have sho' had a hand in making some of the men folks believe that the Good Lord intended the honest corn they raised for anything but food for man an' beast. Yes, I reckon, hit sho' must have been ole Satan that made a few of the Turners an' Wrights get together an' start a little whiskey still over thar in the woods yonder. The womin folks was again hit from the start, as, bless their hearts, they've always been again the cursed stuff. Hit was Christmas week that the still was started goin', an' Christmas Eve the ones running hit gave a big barbecue at the still to celebrate it. Most everyone went, as they always did to doin's in the neighborhood. Even my daddy an' two brothers, Ben an' Abe, went to see the fun as they called hit, but mammy she was a good, religious woman, she staid at home an' kept me with her. She would have liked to keep the other boys with her too, but they had grown out of her control as boys sometimes do." His bronzed face grew sadly thoughtful, as he continued, "I recollect, I cried because I couldn't go too, but mother sang to me an' tole me stories—mother was a powerful hand at telling the kind of stories boys like an' I soon quit cryin' an' went to sleep quiet an' happy with mother singing to me. Hit was the last time I ever heard mammy sing. I reckon hit was 'bout midnight when a noise woke me up. The door had been flung open—hit was never locked in them days—an' father an' Abe came rushin' in. Father's face was white as a sheet an' I'll never forget the look on mammy's face. Hit seemed as if she knowed without a word from daddy what had happened. Thar was a curious tremble in her voice as she asked, 'Whar's Ben?' At the sound of her voice father broke down an' sobbed like a child. 'He's dead,' he cried. 'They've killed my boy Ben. Those Wrights have killed my boy Ben.'"

The man paused as the recollection of that terrible scene crowded his mind, while the two lads looked at each other with sympathetic horror.

"No one seemed to know just how the trouble started," went on their host, quietly. "All hands had taken a little too much liquor, there had been a few hot words, a blow, an' Ben had keeled over with a knife in his side. Then the fightin' started between the kin of both families, an' daddy an' Abe had run home to git their guns. Sore at heart as mammy was, she begged 'em not to shed no more blood but to leave it to the cotes, for mammy, as I have said, was a religious woman. But both Wrights and Turners came first from the mountains of Kentucky whar man don't go to law again' man but settles his quarrels with his rifle, An' so the blood-feud began. Thar was more than Ben killed that night,—Wrights as well as Turners. When all had sobered up from the liquor thar came a kind of lull or truce, but war always bruk out again when either families got to drinkin'. They got Abe the followin' year, but not 'fore he had shot a couple of Wrights. Hit was three years afore they got father. Mother, she pined away an' died soon after they got him. I think she was kinder glad to go, such things are wearin' on a woman. An' so the killin's been goin' on ever since by spells when the liquor gets to flowin'. I am the only Turner alive, now, though thar's a few of my kin still scattered around hyar. I've been shot at a powerful lot of times, but, I reckon, I've been lucky. Then too, they ain't none of them hunted me so powerful hard, for I ain't took no part in any of the killin's. I've shot a couple of times to scare them away but not to kill. My own kin 'lows that I'm poor-spirited, but somehow or other, I can't forget the look on mammy's face the night Ben was killed. I don't want to be the cause of puttin' no such look on any woman's face. I've knowed all these years though that my time must come sooner or later. I heard to-day that the Wrights have got in a lot of liquor from Tarpon Springs an' they are sayin' that the last Turner has got to be wiped out of Judson. So, I got me in a store of water an' grub an' fixed to lay low for awhile. I may be able to hold out until their liquor is gone an' the danger is past, but I reckon hit doan' make so powerful much of difference. They air plum' sho' to get me sooner or later. Wall, that's the story, young fellows, hit's been a right smart relief to have someone sympathetic to tell hit to. Don't you worry none though. As soon as comes mornin' I'll hist a flag of truce an' arrange to have you fellows let out peaceful. You can take my boat an' go after your captain an' that little nigger, but I sho' advise you not to stop hyar on youah way back. Keep right on to Tarpon Springs. Some of my kin folks kin bring the sloop back from thar."

"You are very good," Charley exclaimed. "But tell me why you have never left this awful place. There are hundreds of places where you could have made as good a living and been free from dread and worry."

"Mammy's grave is out thar among them pines," said the man, simply, "an' daddy's, an' Ben's, an' Abe's, then, atter all, this place is home, no other place could be that."

"I am proud to have met you, Mr. Turner," declared Walter, warmly. "I think you are a noble man."

"No? I sho' reckon you is mistaken," said the man in surprise. "Me noble? I reckon not. My own kin 'lows I'm mighty poor-spirited 'cause I won't take no hand in the killin'."

"I don't care a cent what your kin says," began Walter, hotly, but he was interrupted by the crack of a rifle, the whistle of a bullet, and the howl of a dog outside.

His host winced as if the bullet had struck his own body. "They've killed Bet," he cried. "Bet, what I raised from a little bit of puppy. They hadn't ought to go an' shoot a poor defenceless, dumb animal, hit ain't right. My God, be they goin' to kill all my poor faithful dawgs," he cried, as another shot rang out followed by another pitiless howl.

Rifle shot followed rifle shot while the man stood trembling with eyes flashing as he listened to the whining of the animals outside. At last, heedless of the bullets pattering against the logs, he flung the door wide open and called to the hounds. They came crowding in, a whining, mangy, ill-looking pack, but disreputable as they were, they had been the man's only friends through his lonely years and the two lads respected him for his act.

As soon as he had bolted the door again, he rummaged in a corner and brought out three rifles. He handed one to each of the boys. "I reckon, we'll have to watch at the loopholes now the dawgs air inside," he said quietly. "You-alls can take the ones at the ends, I'll tend to the sides. Be right careful 'bout standin' in front of 'em, a bullet might pass through. An' don't shoot to kill if you can help it."

"An' his kin people call that man poor-spirited," whispered Walter in wonder to his chum as they took up their positions.

CHAPTER XXX.
BESIEGED.

The boys had little opportunity for conversation in their new rôle as guards, being separated from each other by the length of the cabin. Strange as was the position in which they found themselves, they felt but little fear. The massive logs of which the cabin was constructed bid defiance to the entry of a bullet, and neither of them could believe that the affair would amount to more than a few shots being fired at the building while the attacking party was under the influence of the liquor they had drank. They believed that with the coming of day the feudalists would disband and retire to their homes, while they would be free to return to the rescue of their friends on the island. Nevertheless, they were not going to take any chances in the duties as sentinels. They stood well to one side of their loopholes and peeped out at the little clearing plainly visible in the bright moonlight.

"I reckon they can't see to shot through the loopholes, but you-alls want to keep youah bodies out of line with them," cautioned Mr. Turner. "Hit mought be that a stray bullet would pass through one of them. An' don't either of you young fellows fire 'less you jes' have to. You doan't want to get mixed up in this hyar quarrel. If yu' jis' naturally have to shoot, aim low an' give it to 'em in the laigs."

"There seems to be several of them gathering together at the edge of the woods," called Charley anxiously. "Here they come straight for the house!"

His host darted to his side. "They've got a long pole an' air aiming to batter down the door," he announced. "Keep back, boys, an' let me do the talking an' shootin', if thar's got to be any."

There were about a dozen men in the approaching party and they advanced at a rapid trot, bearing between them a huge pine log.

"Halt whar you air," commanded Turner when they had approached to within sixty feet of the house. "If you-alls come any closer meanin' trouble, someone is goin' to get hurt."

"We're goin' to get youah hide this time, Bill Turner," shouted the foremost of the gang, a big, heavily-whiskered man. "Hit's a disgrace on us Wrights to have one of youah name livin' still in this settlement. You're goin' to be done for this time."

"Now, I ain't done nothin' to you-alls in all these years," said Turner quietly and argumentatively. "You ain't got no cause to come 'round hectoring me."

"More shame for you," shouted the big man. "We're goin' to do you, first, 'cause you're a Turner, second, 'cause you've been too poor-spirited all these years to put up a man's fight."

"Pears lak hit needs a powerful lot of yu to do fo' one, lone, mean-spirited critter," said Turner, mildly.

The big man stamped his foot with rage. "Hit don't take none but me," he roared. "Yu come out hyar an' we'll have it out, man to man."

"I ain't a-doubting you're courage, Jim Wright," returned the other, slowly, "but I ain't aimin' to hurt no man 'less I have to. Besides, if I did get the best of yu, all the rest of youah gang would come down on me. Jes' keep away from my cabin, that's all I've got to say."

"Come on, boys," roared the leader. "He's too mean-spirited to hurt a fly. He can't shoot all of us, anyway."

There was some hesitation, but his fellows, evidently, believed that the man inside would not fire. Under the urging of their leader they picked up the log and started on a run for the door.

But they quickly discovered their mistake. From the loophole shot out quick jets of flame as the man inside worked the lever of his Winchester. The log dropped unheeded to the ground as its bearers broke for the cover of the woods. Some were not able to run but limped away groaning with pain. After the fleeing ones strode the big leader, cursing them for cowards and imploring them to return to the assault.

"I don't reckon I've hurt any one of them very much," Turner remarked, as he slipped more shells into his rifle. "I jes' aimed for their laigs."

"Thank God, it has all ended without loss of life," Charley said earnestly, but his host shook his head.

"Hit ain't ended, hit's jes' begun, Jim Wright ain't one to be scart out by a little lead. He don't know what fear is. If he can't get none of 'em to come back with him, he'll come back alone. I wish you young fellows were safe outer hyar, but it won't do for you to try to leave now. Crazy drunk, like them fellows is, hit wouldn't be safe for you. Maybe by morning they'll be sobered up enough to listen to reason."

In spite of his words, the boys were hopeful that the night would pass off without further trouble, but they were soon undeceived. Half an hour had not passed when the big leader emerged from the woods followed by a half a dozen of his fellow feudalists.

His followers halted by the fallen log but he advanced boldly direct for the loophole.

"Keep away, for Gawd's sake, keep away, Jim," Turner implored. "I don't want to have to shoot you."

"Hit's you or me this time!" shouted the other, "The sun don't rise on no living Turner in this town."

"Keep back," warned Turner, thrusting his rifle through the loophole, but even in his desperate situation, the boys, crowded close beside him, and could see that he aimed only at the legs of the advancing man.

Ruffian though he was, the other was not without brute courage. He never paused in his advance. "Shoot," he shouted as he whipped out a pistol, "Shoot, that's what I want yu to do."

The two reports came almost together, but the pistol shot was a fraction of a second ahead of the other. Like a fire-swept weed Turner crumpled to the floor, his rifle exploding as he fell.

With the report of his rifle, his followers had grabbed up the log and rushed for the door, but Charley had been quick to see the danger. Snatching up the rifle from the fallen man, he fired at the moving legs as fast as he could work the lever. The whistling lead was more than the assaulters could stand. Three dropped their hold on the log and limped hurriedly for cover while their fellows, deprived of their aid, could no longer sustain the heavy timber, which sank again to the ground while they hastened after their wounded companions.

The boys watched them in silence until they entered the woods then Charley set down the rifle.

"I don't think they will be back right away again," he said. "Anyway, we have got to risk a light. Perhaps Mr. Turner is not dead."

With hands that trembled with excitement Walter struck a match and lit the lamp, then, the two boys lifted the prostrate man and laid him upon the bed. "Keep watch at the loophole while I see if anything can be done for him," Charley commanded.

The man's shirt was matted with blood and the lad did not attempt to take it off, but cut it away with his sheath knife, exposing the white chest in the center of which gapped a horrible hole. "He's badly wounded," he announced after a careful examination of the wound. "There's two holes, one in his chest and one in his side. I believe the bullet struck a rib and glanced, coming out at his side. If so, he will pull through if I can only stop the blood flowing. I'll have to keep this lamp lit for awhile even it is risky. I'll be as quick as I can."

There was little in the rude cabin with which to do in such a case, but the resourceful lad made the best of the situation, working with feverish speed so as to be able to extinguish the lamp as soon as possible. First, he washed out the wash basin thoroughly and filling it with clean water from the barrel added to the water a generous handful of salt. With this he washed the ugly-looking wound, then tearing into pieces a fresh sheet he found lying on a shelf, he made a little wad of rags with which, after soaking them in salt water, he plugged up the gaping hole. Over this he bound wet strips of the sheet to hold it securely in place. He was rewarded for his labor by seeing that the flow of blood was quickly checked and soon ceased entirely. As soon as he made certain of this, he extinguished the light and crept to his chum's side.

"I think he will pull out all right," he announced. "He is unconscious yet, and when he does come to he'll be very weak from loss of blood. Have you seen any more of those fellows?"

"They're still in the woods around the clearing. Listen and you'll hear their voices every now and then."

"It's a horrible affair," said Charley with a shudder. "I'll never forget this night. It has put us in a bad fix. We can't leave here now, and I don't like the way the wind is coming up. If there's a heavy storm, the captain and Chris will be in danger, it wouldn't take a very heavy sea to cover that marsh. Just listen how it's blowing."

Walter seemed not to hear what his chum was saying. He stood staring out at the still figure stretched on the ground. "He hasn't moved, but maybe he isn't dead," he said at last. "Perhaps, he is bleeding to death and a little attention might save his life."

CHAPTER XXXI.
THE ENEMIES.

It was a risky thing to attempt. To venture outside would be to expose themselves in the bright moonlight to the bullets of the feudalists, but the two plucky lads never hesitated. The body lay not a dozen steps from the cabin and it would not do to let his fellows approach that close to the little fort. Either they must save him themselves, if he was not already dead, or leave him to die alone in the night.

"We must be quick about it," Charley declared. "As soon as I unlatch the door, we must run out, grab him by the shoulders, and drag him in—he's too heavy to lift."

In this bold move fortune seemed to favor the lads. They got their heavy burden to the door before a shot was fired and, then, the bullets whistled harmlessly above their heads.

"We were lucky that time," Charley panted as he barred the door again. "Now keep a sharp lookout. I'll have to light that lamp again."

"This fellow is not so very badly hurt," he announced, as soon as he had examined his new patient. "The bullet has gone right through the fleshy part of his shoulder. He will come out of it all right if the wound is kept clean." In a few minutes he had washed and dressed the wound as he had the other man's, then, putting out the light once more, he rejoined his companion at the loophole. "Anything stirring?" he inquired.

"No, I don't even hear their voices now. Perhaps they will not bother us again to-night," Walter replied, hopefully.

"I am not worrying about them as much as I am this wind," said his chum gloomily. "We are safe enough here so long as the grub and water holds out, but, God knows how it is faring with Chris and the captain."

The gale was now howling and whistling around the little cabin with a force to justify Charley's gloomy apprehension. The boys had to speak loudly to make themselves heard above its uproar. They soon abandoned all attempts at conversation and waited wearily and silently for another assault from the feudalists and for the coming of day.

Either the ruffians had at last become over-powered by the liquor they had drank or else they had decided to wait the coming of day, for they did not again show themselves in the clearing. Day, however, came at last, after what seemed to the exhausted lads an age of waiting.

As soon as it became light enough to see, Charley removed the bandages from their stricken host and redressed his wound more carefully. "His pulse is getting stronger and there is some color in his face," he remarked to his chum. "I believe, I could bring him to, but I guess it's best to let him lie unconscious as long as he can. He will suffer enough when he does regain consciousness."

As soon as he finished with Turner, Charley turned to his other patient who was beginning to move uneasily and show signs of returning consciousness. While he was yet bathing his wound the man opened his eyes.

"Gosh! how my shoulder hurts," he growled. "Be mighty careful how you touch it, young fellow, or I'll skin you alive."

Charley set aside the basin of water and rising to his feet looked down on the fellow with a face full of scorn.

"You great, big, drunken, cowardly murderer," he exclaimed. "It's a pity that bullet didn't kill you. You are not fit to live on God's green earth. You're shot when trying, with a crowd of your fellows, to kill a lone, inoffensive man. Your friends don't think enough of you to come back and get your carcass. We bring you in and care for you and instead of thanks, your first words are a growl and a threat. You are a cowardly, disgraceful cur,—that's what you are."

Astonished rage filled the man's face. "No man ever said words like that to Jim Wright and lived," he gasped. He attempted to rise but was too weak to gain his feet, and sank back with a groan.

"Oh, I guess you won't do any killing for a little while," sneered Charley, whose anger was at white heat. "I've no doubt people have been afraid to tell you the truth before, but you are going to hear it for once in your life. I've no doubt with your strength and disposition you've bullied everything until they are afraid to do anything but flatter you, but, now you are going to take a dose of your own medicine." Then, seating himself just out of reach of the man's powerful arms, he proceeded to tell him what he thought of him in words that stung with contempt and scorn. Then, as his anger subsided, he repeated the story Turner had told him, contrasting Turner's quiet, patient, peaceful heroism with the other's blood-thirstiness and violence, with all the power of the earnestness he felt.

At first the man kept interrupting him with curses and abuse, but as he went calmly on ignoring the interruptions the fellow lay quiet, his face turned to the wall.

Once Charley stopped, thinking he might have fainted he lay so still, but he spoke up gruffly.

"No, but it's not your fault that you didn't," the lad replied, curtly, and went on with his arraignment. "I don't care a hang what you and your cowardly fellows think," he concluded, "all decent people would say that that poor fellow lying there is a brave hero while you are the mean-spirited, cowardly one. And, now, if you'll lie quiet and keep your mouth shut, I'll dress that wound. I hate to pollute my hands by touching you, but it's got to be done."

The man lay quiet while the lad washed and bound up his wound. Charley could see that his features were working convulsively, but whether from rage or pain he could not determine.

As soon as his task was completed, Charley relieved his chum at the loophole and Walter set about making coffee and cooking some breakfast. They were both sadly in need of food and felt much better after they had eaten. As soon as they had finished, Charley made his chum lie down to take a nap, promising to call him, and lie down himself in a couple of hours.

While Walter was asleep Turner came out of the deep swoon which had followed his wound. He was weak and in terrible pain but in full possession of his senses. It was evident that he was greatly bewildered at the sight of his enemy lying helpless on the floor, and Charley explained the situation to him in a few words.

"I sho' am glad I didn't kill him," said the sick man, thankfully. "I jes' shot at his laigs, the gun must have gone off when I fell. I am sho' sorry I hurt you so bad, Jim, I didn't aim for to do hit."

As the morning advanced Charley was much puzzled by the constant sound of hammering coming from the woods near the clearing. It was evident their enemies were preparing another surprise but he could not guess at its nature.

All the morning long the hammering continued, then shortly before noon there emerged from the woods an object which caused him at first, to stare in bewildered surprise, and, then, as it drew nearer the cabin to send him to shaking Walter, whom he had let sleep on.

"Wake up! Wake up!" he cried. "We have got to fight for our lives. Those fellows have built a heavy breastwork on the front of a wagon and are shoving it ahead of them up to the cabin."

"Young fellows! help me up and help me to that loophole," gruffly commanded the wounded man on the floor. "Don't hesitate," he cried as the lad was about to refuse the surprising command, "them fellows have got a couple of sticks of dynamite in that cart an' if they get near enough to throw it thar won't be enough left of this cabin to make a good toothpick. We was aiming to use it last night if we couldn't get Turner no other way."

Between them the two startled lads got the big fellow on his feet and supported him to the loophole where he leaned against the logs, his face twitching with the pain of his effort.

It was just in time, for the wagon with its burden of death was scarce a hundred feet away when he shouted: "Stop where yer are, boys. Thar ain't no call to throw any of that stuff."

"An' I might have been for all of yu fellows, leaving me to die on the ground like a poisoned dog."

"Well, I ain't dead, but it ain't no thanks to yu fellows," he went on slowly and painfully. "Now, yu fellows jes' roll that wagon back whar hit came from an' go home and behave yerselves. Yu fellows know me an' know I'll do what I say. Hit's jes' come to me, an' hit's come in a powerful rough way, that I've been powerful mean, pisen an' onery. My eyes am sho' opened at last, an' I'm powerful ashamed of how I've been carryin' on. But hit's all over now. From now on Bill Turner is my friend, an' the man that lifts a finger again' him lifts it again' me, an' me an' my close kin will make this place too hot to hold him. That's all I've got to say. Now, go home."

Murmurs of astonishment arose from the men behind the wagon as they slowly but obediently backed the wagon towards the woods. Over the face of the wounded man on the bed stole a look of joy unspeakable.

"I want to shake hands with you, Mr. Wright," said Charley, earnestly. "I am afraid I talked pretty rough to you."

"I needed hit," said the other as he took the proffered hand. "Hit's a pity, young fellow, that thar ain't more like yu down in this neck of thar woods."

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE CASTAWAYS AGAIN.

Leaving the boys safe from the danger that had threatened them, let us return to the castaways whom we left confronted by that menace, the most grewsome of all to shipwrecked sailors, the lack of water.

The sponger captain needed no explanation but the captain's simple words to realize the terrible tortures and awful death that awaited them all if help in some shape did not soon come to their rescue. His bronzed face grew white beneath it's coat of tan.

"I am frightfully thirsty, already," he exclaimed, "Is there no way we can reach the mainland. Thar's water in plenty thar."

"If we were birds or fish, we might get thar, I reckon," replied Captain Westfield, "but, being as we are only human beings, I calculate it ain't no way possible."

The Conch eyed the raging water that stretched between the little island and the shore.

"A strong swimmer might make it," he observed, musingly. "I've swum farther many a time but it was when I was in a sight better shape than I am now."

"Yes, I reckon a right powerful swimmer might make it," assented the captain, "but this little fellow and I are not equal to it, we'd never reach the land."

"I believe I could do it even now," said the sponger calculatingly, "but I won't desert yo' two Yo' saved my life an' I'd be worse than a Greek to leave yo' here."

"If you can do it, go ahead, man," said the old sailor. "You can't do us any good by staying. Better save your own life," but the Conch shook his head sadly.

"My life ain't worth much, now," he said sadly. "My little ship's gone, all my brave comrades drowned, an' everything I had in the world lost. I've not much to live for now."

"Bosh, man," said the old sailor, "I reckon, thar's always something for a man to live for as long as the Good Lord let him live. If thar wasn't the Lord wouldn't let him live."

But the Conch was not to be comforted, the full extent of his loss was beginning to make itself felt as he regained his strength and the full possession of his senses after his terrible ordeal. He soon moved a little apart from the two castaways, and, seating himself on the sand buried his face in his hands. The two watchers could see the tears trickling between his fingers and they turned away greatly moved at that most impressive of sights, the grief of a strong man, ashamed of displaying his tears. When they looked again he was on his knees and his bowed head showed that he was praying. When he rejoined them, his manner was filled with the calm and quietness of one who has found peace for his afflictions.

"I see there is no wood here with which to build a raft," he observed. "Things look pretty bad, but they say the darkest hour is just before the dawn. We must take courage. Yo'r young friends may return with help at any hour."

The captain shook his head sadly. "Something has happened to them or they would have been back long ago. They cannot return now until the storm is over."

"It cannot last much longer," declared the Conch, confidently. "It is losing force now, I believe it will blow out by morning."

"Maybe, but it will take a long time for the sea to go down so a boat can live in it, and, in the meantime we have no water."

"We must not give way to despair," said the Conch, who seemed like another man after his devotions. "Let's dig another well right in the midst of the island, perhaps we can get water fit to drink."

With but little hope the three fell to work and by noon had dug a hole to water, but they had only their labor for their pains, the water was salt, bitter, and undrinkable. Indeed their labor was worse than fruitless for their exertions had greatly increased their thirst.

Chris kindled a fire and roasted some of the turtle meat and eggs, but the castaways only partook of a few mouthfuls, as eating seemed but to increase their thirst.

The Conch had lost his hat when wrecked and Chris, observing his bare head, set about braiding him another hat from the green palmetto leaves.

The Sponger watched him with interest. "Do yo' think yo' could make a water-tight mat of that stuff?" he enquired, eagerly.

"Golly! I reckon, dis nigger could," declared the little darkey. "I'se done made baskets ob hit dat would hold water like a bucket."

"Then drop that hat business and get to work on hit. Work like yo' never did before. There's a chance, jes' a chance, that it will be the saving of us. Captain, there is work for us to do. Get the entrails out of one of those turtle shells. Clean them out good, pack them full of sand, and stretch them out in the sun to dry. I've got a plan in mind. It may fail, but it's worth trying. Be careful not to break the skins."

It was evident from the man's manner that he was intensely in earnest and the old sailor lost no time in asking idle questions but went quickly to work at the task assigned him. In a short time he had cleaned and washed out the turtle entrails and filling them with dry sand stretched them out to dry in the hot sun. When thus prepared they formed a kind of small hose some thirty feet in length.

While he was thus engaged, the Conch dragged the empty shell down to the water and cleaned and washed it out thoroughly. Leaving it near the water's edge, he collected and piled close beside it, a heap of dry wood. Then he returned to where Chris was working and fell to helping him by stripping and preparing the palmetto buds for the little darkey's nimble fingers.

Just before sundown he carefully removed the sand from the dried entrails and was in possession of a long, tough waterproof hose without hole or break in it.

Night brought no cessation of the strange labor. A fire was kindled beside the little darkey and he plaited on by its light while the captain and the Conch kept him supplied with palmetto strips.

About midnight Chris held up his work with a weary sigh; "Hit's done," he announced.

Taking the strong, flexible, green mat he hurried down to the turtle shell which he had filled half full of sea water. Placing the mat over the top of the shell, he bound it firmly in place with wisps of palmetto leaves. Then, cutting a small hole in the center of the mat, he inserted in it one end of the strange hose, packing wet sand around it to make it air-tight. He next coiled down the hose in the edge of the sea and placed the other end of it in the empty turtle shell. Then, heaping wood around the mat-covered shell, he started a fire.

The Captain and Chris at last understood his plan. With his rude contrivance, he was going to try to distill fresh water from salt after the manner they do on big steamships with costly and complicated apparatus. The steam from the heated water was supposed to escape from the shell through the hose. In passing through it it would become chilled when the hose was coiled down in the cold sea water and, condensing into water again, reach the other shell fresh and free from salt.

The three thirsty watchers fairly held their breath as they kept the fire roaring around the shell and awaited results. At last tiny wisps of steam began to trickle through the closely-woven mat. Tiny drops of moisture were dropping from the end of the hose. These grew larger and larger until at last a tiny stream of water trickled forth.

But thirsty though they were they had to possess their souls in patience and wait for the process worked very slowly. All night they staid by the shells keeping the fire going. Just at day-break the Conch gave the command to put out the fire. In the other shell was several gallons of clear, pure water. As soon as it had cooled sufficiently they dipped it up with shells and drank greedily. It was slightly bitter and tasteless but never did drink taste better to parched throats. With the satisfying of their thirst, came hunger and they all made a hearty meal off the roasted meat and eggs left from dinner. Just as the sun arose they lay down to sleep completely exhausted but with thankfulness to God in their hearts. Their greatest danger was past. They had water and food in abundance, and the storm was slowly but surely subsiding.

They slept through the long day, awakening only when the shades of night began to fall. Then after satisfying their hunger and thirst, they lay down and slept until morning came.

CHAPTER XXVI. WITH THE BOYS.

CHAPTER XXVII. THE JOURNEY.

CHAPTER XXVIII. JUDSON.[A]

FOOTNOTE:

CHAPTER XXIX. THE FEUD.

CHAPTER XXX. BESIEGED.

CHAPTER XXXI. THE ENEMIES.