As Jerry’s utterance was often interrupted by sobs, it took him a long time to tell us how this unpleasant state of affairs had been brought about.

During the progress of his story we learned that General Mason, according to the evidence he had given before the squire, had that morning returned from New Orleans, where he had been to draw some money to make the first payment on a plantation he had recently purchased.

The boat on which he was a passenger stopped at the mouth of the bayou to take on a supply of wood; and the general, learning that Mr. Lamar was about to come down with another raft, suddenly took it into his head that it would be a good plan to go up and examine it. He had lost a good deal of valuable timber of 55late, he said, and he believed that Jerry and his father had stolen it. He would look at the raft, and if there were any of his logs in it he would know them, for they were all marked.

So he jumped into a skiff and pulled up the bayou, taking with him a valise containing eight thousand dollars in gold.

He found Mr. Lamar engaged in making up the raft, a portion of which was moored to the bank in front of his house. The general got out of his skiff, and after examining that part of the raft, walked up the bayou to the place where Mr. Lamar was at work.

The latter, knowing why he had come there, good-naturedly took his pike-staff and turned the logs over in the water, so that the general could see all sides of them.

But none of them bore his mark; and without even apologizing to the lumberman for the trouble he had given him, the general returned to the skiff. He got out the oars and was about to shove off from the bank, when he discovered that the valise containing the eight thousand dollars, which he had carelessly left in the boat, was gone.

56Jerry was busy chopping wood in front of the house, and without an instant’s hesitation the general sprang ashore, seized him by the collar, and walking him into the skiff, started off to take him before the magistrate.

“You can’t imagine how astonished I was,” said Jerry. "When the general first came there I was not at home; I was up the bayou after a load of wood. You know that when the water comes up it makes an island of the hill on which our house stands, and we are obliged to bring all our firewood from the mainland in a canoe. I noticed the skiff when I came back, but I did not know who had brought it there until I saw General Mason up the bank with father, looking at the logs. When he came down I wished him good-morning; but he did not speak or even look at me, and I went on with my work. The next thing I knew I was lying flat on the bottom of the skiff, and he was shoving off into the stream.

"‘You see I am prepared for any tricks,’ said he, flourishing a revolver before my face. ‘You have stolen eight thousand dollars out of 57this boat. Now will you tell me where it is, or go to jail?"

"If the Mississippi had suddenly overflowed its banks and come pouring into the bayou, carrying every thing before it, I could not have been more astounded and alarmed. How could I tell him where his money was when I had never seen it?

“I said every thing I could to convince him that I was innocent of the crime with which he charged me; but it was of no use. I might as well have kept silent. In obedience to his orders I picked up the oars and pulled down the bayou; and here I am.”

“Well,” said I, when Jerry paused, “I don’t see that you are in such a terrible scrape. How is General Mason going to prove that you stole his money?”

“Humph!” exclaimed Duke, "you had better ask ‘How is Jerry going to prove that he didn’t steal it?’ I have read somewhere," he continued, "that a trial at law is a lie direct. One says ‘You did,’ and the other says ‘I didn’t.’ In this case General Mason affirms that Jerry stole his money, and Jerry 58declares that he never saw it. We know that the general is mistaken, but how are we going to convince him of that fact while he has the evidence all on his side?"

“I know how,” exclaimed Herbert, excitedly. “We’ll find the real culprit, that’s the way we’ll do it; and I can put my hands on him in less than half an hour. That Tom Mason is the very fellow.”

“Where is your proof?” inquired the practical Duke.

“Who knows that the money was stolen at all?” asked Mark. “Perhaps it fell overboard.”

“Well, suppose it did. That doesn’t help the matter any, for how are we going to show that it fell overboard?”

“Oh, I am ruined, boys!” groaned Jerry, who had listened attentively to what Duke had to say. “I can’t prove that I did not steal the money, for there was no one near me. Mother was in the house, and I was alone with the skiff for at least ten minutes. My word will go for nothing against that of a man like General Mason. But, fellows, if that money was stolen 59at all, it was taken before I got back with my load of wood.”

“Did you see any one prowling around your house?” asked Duke. “Perhaps some of the Swamp Dragoons were up there hunting.”

“If they were, I did not see them. I was alone.”

Duke had shown us just how the matter stood, and our friend’s prospects began to look very dark indeed. No one could blame General Mason, for the evidence was strong against Jerry. We knew he was innocent, but we could not prove it, and he would spend the best years of his life in prison, and the real culprit would never be discovered.

While we were thinking the matter over, and wondering what we could do to assist Jerry, we heard a heavy tramping in the hall, and presently Mr. Todd, Mr. Dickson and father came in, accompanied by the constable and jailer. They had found bail for Jerry, and he was once more at liberty to go where he pleased until the following month, when his case would come up for trial before the Circuit Court. He did not seem very much elated over his liberation, 60for he shrank from encountering the curious eyes which he knew would be turned upon him when he reached the street. But we did not give him time to think about that. Herbert and I caught him by the arms, Sandy put his hat on his head (he was so completely wrapped up in his troubles that he seemed to have forgotten that he had a hat to wear, or a pair of feet to stand upon), and we hurried him out of the jail and across the road to the place where we had left our horses.

We sprang into our saddles, I took Jerry up behind me, and in a few minutes carried him out of sight of the village. In accordance with his request, I put him down at the head of the lane that led to the swamp, and there we all separated and set out for home.

It was late when Mark and I awoke the next morning. After breakfast, I shouldered an ax, and, mounting my horse, started for the woods, where I had agreed to meet the rest of our fellows and spend an hour or two with them in building turkey-traps, while Mark, who said he didn’t feel like tramping around in the mud all day, remained at home.

61No one could have told from the way the day began, that it was destined to wind up with an adventure, and that Mark’s “laziness,” as I called it, was to bring about a series of events that ultimately proved to be of the greatest benefit to Jerry Lamar; but yet it was so.

Before Mark went to bed again he got into a scrape that well nigh cost him his life, and enabled him to prove Jerry’s innocence to every body’s satisfaction. In order that you may understand how it came about, I must follow his movements.

After I left, Mark studied awhile, read a little, and thrummed on his guitar a good deal. He passed an hour in this way, and at the end of that time was aroused from a reverie into which he had fallen by a sound which never failed to throw him into a state of intense excitement—the “honk, honk!” uttered by a flock of wild geese as they flew over the house.

Mark was all life and activity in an instant. Dropping his guitar as if it had been a coal of fire, he caught up his gun, which he always kept loaded and ready for such an emergency, and, in less time than it takes to tell it, was 62standing bareheaded in the yard, gazing up into the air, which was fairly darkened by wild geese.

Bang! bang! spoke the double-barrel, in quick, decided tones, and down came two of the flock, one stone dead and the other with a broken wing.

After securing his game, Mark stood watching the birds, which flew slowly onward, gradually settling down as they neared the swamp, and finally disappearing behind the bushes that lined the banks of the bayou.

“They have taken to the water,” said Mark, gleefully, “and if I don’t bag a dozen of them before I am an hour older, it will be because I have forgotten how to shoot on the wing.”

Mark ran up to headquarters, and presently reappeared in his big boots and shooting-jacket, his powder-flask and shot-bag slung over his shoulder, and his trusty double-barrel under his arm.

He ran into the kitchen to ask Aunt Martha to put up a lunch for him, and in half an hour more he had embarked in the canoe which we kept moored in the bayou, and was paddling 63for dear life toward the place where he had seen the geese alight in the water.

If you have never seen a freshet I can not convey to you even a slight idea of the appearance the swamp presented to Mark’s gaze that morning.

In summer it was perfectly dry, and the bayou which ran through it was not more than ten feet wide, and so shallow that the little trading boats, which are said to be able to run after a heavy dew, could not possibly ascend it.

Now the swamp was covered to the depth of fifteen feet, and the bayou was booming along at the rate of ten miles an hour, carrying with it huge trees and logs, which were whirled about in every direction, threatening instant destruction to any thing that came within their reach.

Of course navigation was dangerous in the extreme; but Mark never thought of that. His mind was wholly occupied with the wild geese.

The canoe, propelled by the current and the rapid strokes of the paddle, quickly reached 64the bend in which the geese had alighted, and as Mark rounded the point above it, he saw the flock before him, and within easy range.

I need not stop to relate to you the incidents of the hunt, which continued nearly all day; for, although interesting in themselves, they have no bearing upon the adventure which followed. It will be enough to say that the geese took wing as often as Mark approached them; that they always left two, and sometimes four and five, of their number dead or wounded behind them; that at last they became alarmed at the havoc made in their ranks, and rising high in the air, flew over the tops of the trees, toward the river; and that when they disappeared, Mark, with some difficulty, landed on a little island in the bayou to rest after his long-continued exertions, and to eat the lunch which Aunt Martha had put up for him.

As soon as his excitement had somewhat abated, he proceeded to make an examination of his spoils, and found that he had been successful beyond his most sanguine expectations—thirty-two fine, fat geese bearing evidence to 65the skill with which he had handled his double-barrel.

He also became conscious of another fact after he had looked about him, and that was that he had not the least idea how far he was from home, or in what part of the swamp he had brought up. He could not discover a single familiar landmark. With the exception of the island on which he was standing, and which was not more than twenty feet square, there was not a spot of dry land within the range of his vision—nothing but a wilderness of giant trees, standing half submerged in the dark, muddy water, which rushed by the island with the speed of a mill-sluice.

To add to the unpleasantness of his situation, the leafless branches above his head were tossing about in violent commotion, and the surface of the water was whirled into eddies by a fierce wind, which increased in fury every moment, betokening the approach of a tempest.

Some boys would have been frightened, but Mark was not. He ate his lunch with great deliberation, glancing up at the clouds occasionally, thinking over the incidents of the 66day, and trying to determine upon some plan of action.

There were two ways for him to return home. One was to pull back up the bayou in the direction from which he had come, and the other to float down the stream until he reached the river.

There was one insurmountable obstacle in the way of carrying out the first plan, and that was, that alone and unaided he could not possibly propel his canoe against the current.

To the second plan there was also an objection—quite a formidable one, too—which, in order that you may understand what followed, I must explain at some length.

I have told you that the bayou emptied into the Mississippi River. About a mile above its mouth was a succession of falls, perhaps fifteen feet high, and at this point the bayou, which ran between two rocky bluffs, made a very abrupt bend. The foot of the bluff on the lower side had been worn away by the constant action of the water, causing the top to hang threateningly over the bed of the stream.

Against this bluff, and along the whole 67length of it, was piled a dense mass of logs and trees, thus forming a sort of cavern, open at both ends.

This cave went by the name of “Dead Man’s Elbow,” from the fact that more than one lumberman had lost his life there.

When the water was low it could be easily explored, and many a hot summer’s day had our fellows spent there fishing and shooting alligators; but during a freshet it was a dangerous place.

The space between the bluffs was so narrow that only a small portion of the water could pass over the falls, and the most of it found its way into this cavern, through which it rushed and roared with the speed of a small Niagara; and any thing that came within its reach was hurried along with almost incredible fury, and dashed upon the logs and rocks below.

This was the obstacle that Mark would be obliged to pass on his way to the river. Of course there was a possibility that he would accomplish the descent in safety, for he was a skillful boatman, and he knew that more than 68one canoe and dozens of heavy rafts had passed over the falls when the water was at its highest; but if any accident befell him—if he once allowed himself to be brought within the influence of the powerful current that set toward the cavern—if his paddle broke or he became exhausted, it would be “all day” with him.

Mark thought of these things while he was munching his sandwiches, and when the last one had been disposed of he stepped into his canoe and began to make preparations for his perilous voyage.

His first move was to pack the geese carefully away under the thwarts, so that they would not be thrown overboard in case of any sudden lurching of his little vessel, and the second to fasten a strap to his shotgun and sling it over his shoulder.

Mark was greatly attached to that little double-barrel, and he was determined that if he passed Dead Man’s Elbow in safety, the gun should go through safely, also.

Perhaps his hands trembled a little while he was making these preparations, perhaps too, he wished that some other boy had been standing 69in his boots just then; but there was no alternative between attempting the passage of the falls and camping all night in the swamp without a fire, and of the two evils he thought he had chosen the least.

All things being ready, Mark cast off the painter, and with one sweep of the paddle turned the canoe about and sent it flying down the bayou. He went at almost railroad speed, but kept his craft completely under control, and when at last he came suddenly around a sharp bend and found himself between two high bluffs, with Dead Man’s Elbow in plain sight, he had screwed his courage up to the sticking point, and was ready to face the danger.

He placed his hat more firmly on his head, tightened his grasp on his paddle, and fastening his eyes on the falls before him, was nerving himself for the plunge, when his attention was suddenly attracted by loud shouts, which sounded from the cliffs above. He looked up, and the sight that met his gaze filled him with amazement and consternation.

Near the middle of the bayou, and but a 70short distance above the falls, was a dead tree which must have possessed enormous roots, for it had stood there ever since I could remember, holding its upright position in defiance of the logs and rafts that had been dashed against it.

It was not the tree itself that fixed Mark’s gaze and excited his surprise, but something that was crouching among its branches. It was not a bear or panther, but a man, dressed in a tattered brown jeans suit, who seemed to be very badly frightened, for that portion of his face which was visible over his bushy, uncombed whiskers was as pale as death.

Stranded on the very brink of the falls was the skiff in which the man had doubtless descended the bayou. It was lying on its side, half filled with water, and all that kept it from going over the falls was the log against which it had lodged.

On the cliff above the falls stood the persons whose shouts had attracted Mark’s attention. There were half a dozen of them—boys about his own age—and they were the redoubtable Swamp Dragoons who have already been mentioned 71in this story, and who are destined from this time forth to play a prominent part in it.

One of them held a long rope in his hand, with which he had been trying to rescue the man in the tree. They were all in a high state of excitement and alarm, which seemed to be greatly increased by Mark’s sudden appearance among them.

As soon as he came in sight, one of the Dragoons, who, like a good many others in the settlement, had not yet learned to tell Mark and me apart, called out:

“Now, then, what do you want here, Joe Coleman? Jest turn right around and go back up the bayou. You’ve got no sort of business here.”

“Yes,” shouted the man in the tree, shaking his fist at Mark, “go back whar you come from. What are you spyin’ about here fur?”

At first Mark did not know what to make of this greeting. Why should the man in the tree accuse him of acting as a spy upon his movements, and what reason had the Dragoons for ordering him away when he had as much right there as they had? There could be but 72one answer to these questions, and that was that there was something in the vicinity which they did not want him to see.

“Do you hear what I say!” shouted the man in the tree. “Get away—go back whar you come from. We don’t want you about here.”

“Get away yourself,” replied Mark. “Haven’t you sense enough to know that I couldn’t go back if I wanted to? There isn’t a man living who can paddle a canoe against this current.”

These words had scarcely left Mark’s lips before he became aware that he had got himself into trouble. While his attention was drawn to the man in the tree, his canoe had escaped from his control, and was now shooting with the speed of an arrow toward the cavern. It was not more than twenty feet distant, and if he once entered it no power on earth could save him.

When he saw and fully realized his danger, his face grew deathly pale, and for an instant the light paddle in his hand felt as heavy as lead. But it was only for an instant. His 73power of action returned almost as quickly as it had deserted him, and, jumping to his feet, he fought hard for his life.

For a few seconds it seemed as if his puny arm could combat successfully with the roaring, foaming waters which leaped so wildly around him; but just at the moment when the canoe appeared to be perfectly motionless, and it seemed as if a feather’s weight might turn it either way—toward the falls, where it would be comparatively safe, or toward the cavern where its destruction was certain—there was a loud snap, and Mark found himself standing with a broken paddle in his hand, and saw the bow of the canoe swinging rapidly toward the waves which filled the mouth of Dead Man’s Elbow.