If there was any thing for which Mark was noted, besides his skill as a wrestler, it was the coolness and deliberation with which he acted in times of danger.

In this, he was a good deal like Sandy, who could scarcely be induced to move one step faster than his ordinary gait even under the most exciting circumstances.

Mark often grew pale in trying situations, and sometimes seemed utterly powerless to lift hand or foot, but when the decisive moment came, and action could be no longer delayed, he moved with a promptness and celerity that was astonishing.

On this occasion it did not seem that there was the smallest chance of escape. The Swamp Dragoons and the man in the tree thought so, and looked down at him with blanched cheeks.

75Mark thought so, and stood erect in his boat, gazing in a stupid, benumbed sort of way into the dark opening where more than one strong man had given up his life, and toward which he was being hurried with lightning speed. But all this time he knew what he was about, and, when the canoe was on the very point of taking the fatal plunge, he sprang into the air with the agility of a squirrel.

The instant he touched the water he gave one swift stroke and reached a place of refuge—a huge sawyer, one end of which was imbedded in the mud at the bottom of the bayou, and the other projecting two or three feet above the surface of the water.

Clinging with a death-grip to this friendly support, he turned to look at his canoe; but it had already disappeared, and was being smashed into kindling-wood as the mad waters hurried it through the cavern.

“Whew!” gasped Mark, drawing himself out of the water and seating himself on the sawyer; “did any body ever hear of a closer shave than that?”

“Well, you done come safe off, didn’t you?” 76growled the man in the tree, and Mark judged by the tones of his voice that he would have been much better pleased if he had gone into the cavern with the canoe. “The next time you come so nigh to goin’ out o’ the world, you’ll go; you kin bet on that.”

Mark did not reply. He sat on the log, panting loudly, and looking first at the place where his canoe had disappeared, then at the angry waters about him, and finally he fastened his gaze upon the man in the tree, who seemed to be in no amiable frame of mind.

He was no stranger to the persons into whose company he had been thus unexpectedly thrown.

About ten miles from our settlement, in an almost inaccessible part of the swamp, lived a colony of people who gained a livelihood in some mysterious manner, that had more than once excited the suspicions of the planters.

The head man among them was Luke Redman, and he it was who was now crouching in the branches of the tree, glaring down at Mark like some wild animal which had been brought to bay by the hounds.

77The boys on the cliff were the younger members of the colony of which I have spoken, who seemed in a fair way to follow in the footsteps of their fathers, for a harder set of fellows could not be found anywhere.

They boasted a sort of military organization, and their officers were a captain and a lieutenant.

The captain was Barney Redman, the oldest son of the man in the tree, and his distinguishing badge was a squirrel’s tail, which he wore in front of his hat for a plume.

His brother Luke, the lieutenant, sported a coonskin cap and a couple of turkey feathers.

The Dragoons were gathered in a group on the edge of the cliff, holding a whispered consultation, and now and then looking down at Mark, as if he were the subject of their conversation.

“What’s the matter with you, Barney?” said Mark, at length, addressing himself to the captain of the Dragoons; “you seem to be mad about something.”

“What business have you got here? That’s what I want to know,” replied Barney, angrily. 78“The best thing you can do is to leave here sudden.”

“I am well satisfied of that. It is pretty cold, and I am not at all comfortable sitting here in my wet clothes. If you will tell me how to reach dry land, I shall be greatly obliged to you. But, I say, Barney!”

“Well, what do you want?”

“What’s been going on here?”

“Who said any thing had been goin’ on?” demanded Luke Redman, in a tone of voice which indicated considerable alarm.

And as he spoke, he cast a sidelong glance over his shoulder toward his skiff, which was stranded on the edge of the falls.

There was something so stealthy in the action that Mark’s suspicions were aroused in an instant. He followed the man’s glance, and one look was enough to clear up every thing which, but a moment before, had appeared so mysterious.

“Thar hain’t been nothin’ goin’ on here that I knows on,” repeated Mr. Redman. “I come down the bayou, same as you did, an’ got ketched in the current an’ upsot; an’ if it 79hadn’t been for this yere tree, I’d ’a gone over the falls, I reckon.”

“What’s that hanging to the row-lock of your skiff?” asked Mark, suddenly.

“Whar? I don’t see nothin’.”

“Don’t you? Well, I do. It is a valise, and has General Mason’s name on it. I can see it as plainly as I can see you. There hasn’t been any thing going on here, eh? I know better. There are eight thousand dollars in gold in that valise, Luke Redman, and you were making off with it. That’s what’s been going on.”

Mark had hit the nail squarely on the head. Luke Redman certainly had General Mason’s valise in his skiff, and he had come down the bayou, intending to escape to the river with his booty, and cross into Louisiana; and it is probable that he would have succeeded in carrying out his plans, had it not been for the accident that compelled him to take refuge in the tree.

When the skiff was overturned, one of the handles of the valise had, by the merest accident, caught in the row-lock, and that was all 80that saved it from going to the bottom of the bayou.

There it hung, in plain sight, bobbing up and down in the water, as the skiff rose and fell with the waves.

A dead silence succeeded Mark’s bold announcement of the discovery he had made.

The Dragoons brought their consultation to a sudden close, and looked at Luke Redman, whose face turned pale with alarm, and then almost purple with rage.

“I call this a lucky hunt, after all,” said Mark, who, knowing that he was out of reach of his enemies, was disposed to be impudent. “When I get back to the settlement, my first hard work shall be to clear Jerry Lamar, and put the authorities on your track.”

“But you hain’t got back to the settlement yet,” shouted Luke Redman, “an’, what’s more, you shan’t go. You’ll never see your home ag’in, mind that.”

“Why not?” inquired Mark, who knew very well what the man meant by this threat. “Who’s going to hinder me?”

“I am. Don’t you think it would be a 81mighty smart thing for me to let you go back to your folks, an’ tell ’em what you’ve done seed here to-night? I hain’t quite so green as that. Halloo, there! Stop him, Barney. Jump on your hoss an’ foller him up, an’ ketch him. If he gets away, we are done fur.”

The sudden change in Luke Redman’s tone was brought about by an action on Mark’s part that astonished every body who witnessed it. While the man was speaking he had risen to his feet, and, balancing himself on the sawyer, took a survey of the situation, and calculated his chances for carrying out a desperate resolve he had formed.

As I have told you, there were two currents in the bayou at this particular point—one setting toward the falls and the other toward the cavern. The sawyer was situated near the edge of the latter current, and Mark was sure that a good jump and a few swift strokes would carry him beyond its influence into the comparatively smooth current that ran toward the falls.

He determined to try it, and he did; and to his infinite delight, and the intense amazement 82of Luke Redman, he reached the smooth current in safety, and struck out for the skiff, intending to catch the valise as he went by and take it away with him.

But the current was much too strong for him. It carried him far out of reach of the skiff, and whirled him over the falls as if he had been a feather. He heard loud ejaculations of rage and alarm behind him, and caught just one glimpse of the Dragoons, who were mounting their horses to pursue him, and then he was swept rapidly around the bend, and they were left out of sight.

How long Mark remained in the water, and how far his enemies pursued him, he did not know. He kept in the bayou until he passed the bluffs and reached a spot where the water once more spread out over the swamp, and there he turned and made the best of his way toward the chain of hills which ran along the bank of the river.

He had ridden over the ground on horseback more than once, but he had never swum over it before, and the distance seemed to have lengthened out wonderfully; but it was safely accomplished 83at last, and when he crawled out upon the dry ground and turned his face homeward, he told himself that he had done something to be proud of: He had swum over the falls—and that was a feat that no one in the settlement had ever attempted before—and although he had lost his canoe and every one of the wild geese for which he had worked so hard, he had saved his double-barrel, and made a discovery that was worth a great deal to Jerry Lamar.

And his exploits were not yet ended. He was twenty miles from home, and for five long hours he trudged along the road in his wet clothes, facing a blinding storm and splashing through mud more than ankle deep.

I never saw a worse-looking boy than he was when he burst in upon us about ten o’clock, and I do not suppose he ever saw a more astonished family than we were, while we sat listening to the story of his adventures.

In spite of his remonstrances, he was put to bed immediately; while father and I donned our rubber coats and boots, and rode out into the storm to arouse the settlement.