In less than two hours after Mark reached home, three large canoes loaded with settlers swept down the bayou and landed at the bluffs above Dead Man’s Elbow.

The place was found to be deserted. There were plenty of footprints in the mud on the top of the cliff, and that was all that remained to tell of the thrilling incidents that had happened there but a short time before.

The skiff and the valise had disappeared, and the tree in which Luke Redman had taken refuge was empty. How he managed to escape from his perilous situation—whether he imitated Mark’s example, and swam over the falls, or the Swamp Dragoons succeeded in pulling him up the bluff—we had no means of judging. He was gone, and the next thing was to find him.

85During the next few days the settlement was in great commotion. In company with the planters, our fellows explored the county from one end to the other, but without finding the slightest trace of Luke Redman and the Swamp Dragoons. They had disappeared as completely as though they had never existed at all.

At the end of a week, however, the excitement began to abate, and our attention was called to other matters. Christmas was near at hand, and that was a great day with us. From the time we were old enough to be trusted with horses and guns, we had made it a point to spend the day hunting in the woods, winding up our sports about four o’clock in the afternoon by eating a wild turkey which had been roasted over our camp-fire.

We had begun as early as the first of the month to make preparations for this all-important occasion, but our chances for securing the necessary game grew less promising as the day drew near. Wild turkeys were not only exceedingly scarce that year, but the few we saw 86during our rambles were so shy that it was next to an impossibility to shoot one; and as we were resolved that we would not miss our accustomed dinner, we were obliged to resort to something that every true sportsman holds in supreme contempt—namely, traps.

We built several among the beech ridges in the swamp, but scarcely had we completed them before we became aware that somebody was interfering with our arrangements. He visited the traps as regularly as we visited them ourselves, and took all the game out of them.

We knew as well as though we had seen him in the act that Tom Mason was the culprit, but for a long time our efforts to fasten the guilt upon him were unsuccessful. We came up with the gentleman at last, however, and took a little satisfaction out of him for the disappointment and vexation he had occasioned us, although before the day was over he paid me for it in a way I did not like.

On the morning of the day before Christmas, Mark burst into headquarters, where I was sitting in company with the rest of our fellows, his clothes all covered with mud that had been 87splashed over them by his horse’s feet, and his face red with anger. He had started out at daylight to visit the traps, and his looks showed plainly that he had met with no better success than usual.

“It is no use, fellows,” said he, pitching his hat spitefully into one corner, “we might as well give it up. I don’t see what such boys as Tom Mason are made for, anyhow.”

“Oh, no! we can’t give up the dinner,” said Duke, quickly. “If we don’t succeed in capturing a turkey, we will shoot a wild goose. We can find plenty of them, you know.”

“Well,” replied Mark, “if you want to hunt wild geese on a raft, you can do it. I’ll stay at home.”

“On a raft!” repeated Duke. “Where’s the canoe?”

“You tell; or, if you want to be certain about it, go and ask Tom Mason. He knows. It is gone, and I had to build a raft to go over to the island where we made our last trap.”

We were all very much provoked when we heard this. It was irritating enough to have our sports interrupted and our plans broken 88in upon by such a fellow as Tom Mason, but we did not mind that so much as the loss of our canoe. The Spitfire—that was the name we had given her—was a swift, handy little craft, and as it was the first one our fellows ever built, and we had owned it for years, we thought a great deal of it. Even easy-going Sandy, who seldom spoke harshly of any body, declared that it was high time we were taking that Tom Mason in hand.

“I don’t think we can be expected to stand this thing any longer,” continued Mark. “I know that there are as many as fifty turkeys that roost on that island at night, and that some of them must get in that trap every morning. I propose that we camp out on the bank of the bayou to-night and watch the island.”

“That’s a good idea,” said I. “I will go down at once, and send a couple of darkeys into the swamp to build a shanty for us.”

While I was hunting up the negroes, and giving them some instructions in regard to the location of the shanty, the manner in which it was to be built, and the quantity of provisions 89we should need during the two days we expected to remain in the swamp, I heard a great rumpus in the house, such as might have been occasioned by a squad of cavalry driving rapidly through the hall. I knew, however, that the noise was made by the heavy boots worn by our fellows, who were rushing pell-mell down the stairs.

Wondering what was in the wind now, I ran around the house, and saw a group of excited boys gathered in the lane.

Conspicuous among them was Tom Mason, who sat on his horse, flourishing his riding-whip in the air and talking at the top of his voice.

Mark held his nag by the bridle, and was trying his best to induce Tom to dismount, threatening to pull him from his saddle if he did not immediately comply.

Believing that there was a fight in prospect, and that Tom would be severely punished, I jumped over the bars and joined the group, intending to do all I could to prevent a difficulty.

“I don’t know any thing about your old 90boat, Mark Coleman,” said Tom, as I came up; “and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. I think you have good cheek to come to me for favors after treating me as you have done. But I will tell you one thing—you had better look out for me now. I’ll sink that canoe if I can find it, and I’ll pull down every turkey trap you set in these woods.”

“Well, now, if you will come out of that saddle for about two minutes, I will convince you that you had better steer clear of us and every thing belonging to us,” said Mark.

“If you know when you are well off, you will stay where you are,” I exclaimed. “Let go his horse, Mark. Now, friend Mason,” I added, as Mark released his hold of the bridle and fell back, “the way is open, and you had better clear yourself.”

Tom rode a short distance up the lane, and then stopped and looked back.

“Where did you get that boat you were talking about?” he demanded.

“We made it,” replied Duke.

“That’s a likely story. I’d as soon think you stole it. As I told you once before, those 91who sympathize with thieves are no better than they are. You won’t go hunting or fishing with me; but you will ride six miles through the mud to visit the beggar Jerry Lamar when he is in jail.”

“Yes,” replied Herbert, “we are particular in regard to the company we keep. We’re rather shy of boys who steal and tell falsehoods.”

“I know what you mean by that,” said Tom, angrily, “and I’ll pay you for it, too. I am going to make things exceedingly lively for all of you this winter, if you only knew it. I’ll settle up all the little accounts between us in a way you don’t think of; mind that!”

As Tom gave utterance to this warning, he put spurs to his horse and galloped away, while our fellows returned to headquarters.

We spent an hour or two in talking over the events of the morning, and about eleven o’clock mounted our horses and started for the swamp.

We passed the time until three in the afternoon in riding about among the hills, visiting our traps, and you can imagine what our feelings were when we found that Tom Mason had 92already begun to carry out the threats he had made that morning.

Two of our traps had been robbed since Mark visited them at daylight, and as many more completely demolished.

How did we know that any of them had been robbed? By the feathers that were scattered about over the ground.

We found, too, that the thief had come into the woods by way of the bayou, for we tracked him to the bank, and found the place where he had landed from his canoe.

When we had visited all our traps in that part of the woods, we turned our horses’ heads toward the camp; and if you are one with the soul to appreciate such things, you will know how we enjoyed the pleasant sight that greeted our eyes as we entered a little valley among the hills, and found a commodious pole shanty and a roaring fire waiting for us.

We dismounted, and, while we stood warming our benumbed hands over the cheerful blaze, looked around on the preparations that had been made for our comfort.

The negroes must have thought it was our 93intention to remain in the woods all the rest of our lives, judging by the care they had taken in fitting up the camp.

The shanty was tight, and would have kept us dry if it had rained buckets. It was built with its back to the wind and the front open to the fire; and looking inside, we saw five beds neatly made up on the floor, which was thickly covered with leaves.

On one side of the shanty was a supply of wood for the fire, and on the other was the wagon, beside which stood a span of mules, contentedly munching their corn.

Sam, one of the negroes, was exploring a huge mess-chest in the wagon, and bringing to light the good things mother had put up for us, now and then turning his head to look at the brace of wild ducks and the half a dozen squirrels that were broiling on the coals.

I shall never forget that camp. It served us as our “headquarters in the field” for many a year, and one memorable night was the scene of one of the most exciting adventures that ever befell our fellows.

“Not a single turkey have we seen yet,” 94said Mark, as we drew up around the fire. “Have you boys been on the island to look at that trap?”

“Yes, sah,” replied Sam, “an’ it’s done tore down. But I built it up ag’in, an’ throwed corn all around it. I reckon we’ll get some turkeys outen dar afo’ night, ’kase Cuff is hid in the bushes watchin’ de island, an’ if dat dar Mason boy comes pokin’ round ag’in, he’ll get cotched.”

We felt better then, and told one another that that Mason boy’s tricks were at an end, for that day at least. We talked the matter over while we were waiting for our dinner, and decided upon a plan of operations.

The island on which our trap was built was a noted place for turkeys. If there were any in the woods, they were always to be found there, and the secret lay in the fact that the island produced an immense quantity of beechnuts, of which turkeys are very fond.

We had made our camp about half a mile from the bayou, and our object in doing so was that the turkeys might not be frightened away by the smoke from our fire.

95The plan we decided upon was that, as soon as we had eaten our dinner, two of our fellows should conceal themselves in the bushes on the bank of the bayou, and hold themselves in readiness to alarm the camp if they saw Tom Mason prowling about, or heard any thing suspicious going on on the island.

We did not carry this plan into execution, however, for just as the ducks and squirrels were done to a turn and Sam had finished laying the table, Cuff came dashing into camp, breathless and excited, and announced that a large flock of turkeys had just flown from the mainland over to the island.

That was enough for us. We did not think any more about dinner just then, but seized our guns and started post-haste toward the bayou.

Herbert Dickson was the first to reach the bank, but no sooner had he emerged from the bushes than he drew back again, and motioned for us to approach with more caution.

“Fellows,” he whispered, as we gathered about him, “we are not the only ones who are 96watching the island. Tom Mason is over there.”

Following in Herbert’s wake, we crept carefully toward the bank and looked toward the island. Our evil genius was not in sight, but his canoe was, and it was almost filled with turkeys—the proceeds of his morning’s raid upon our traps.

“We’ve got him cornered at last,” said Duke; “and if we move quickly and quietly, we can catch him in the act of stealing our game. I suggest that we teach him manners by ducking him in the bayou.”

“And let us keep on ducking him until he tells us what he has done with our boat,” said Mark. “I know he has stolen it.”

The raft Mark had made that morning was lying alongside of the bank, and it was but the work of a moment to jump on board and shove out into the stream.

Just as we moved from the shore, we heard a loud flapping of wings in the bushes on the island, and a moment afterward a flock of turkeys arose above the trees, and sailed off into the woods.

97“There!” exclaimed Herbert. “Tom has frightened them away before they had time to get into the trap.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said I. “There are more turkeys in that boat than we can eat at one Christmas dinner.”

Duke, who was managing the raft, used his paddle with all his strength; but, before we were half-way across the bayou, the robber came in sight, carrying a turkey slung over each shoulder. He stopped when he discovered us, and his face turned red with shame and then pale with alarm.

“Now, I’ll jest tell you what’s the matter, Tom Mason,” exclaimed Sandy. “We ain’t a-goin’ to put up with this yere kind of business no longer. We’ll wash some of that ar meanness outen you by dumping you in the bayou.”

Tom stood for a moment as if he had been rooted to the ground, and then, dropping the turkeys, ran toward his boat.

Duke, comprehending his design, exerted himself to the utmost to defeat it; but our clumsy raft moved very slowly through the 98water, and when we arrived within twenty feet of the bank, Tom reached his boat and shoved off. He could manage a canoe as well as any Indian, and he would certainly have succeeded in effecting his escape, had it not been for Sandy Todd. He saw that there was but one way to prevent the robber from making off with his booty, and he had the nerve to adopt that way. He hastily threw off his powder-flask and shot-pouch, and before we knew what he was going to do, he was in the water striking out for Tom’s boat.

For a moment he puffed and blew like a porpoise (you can imagine how cold the water is in December, even in a warm climate like ours), but he kept on, and, after a few swift strokes, was near enough to Tom to seize the stern of his canoe.

“Let go!” shouted Tom, flourishing his paddle in the air. “Let go, I say, or I’ll rap you over the head!”

“Hold fast to him, Sandy!” I yelled. “Those turkeys are ours, and we’re bound to have them.”

“If he attempts to strike you, capsize the 99canoe and spill him out,” exclaimed Herbert.

“I’d like to see him do it,” said Tom, savagely. “Once more, and for the last time, Sandy Todd, I tell you that if you don’t take your hands off my boat, I’ll—”

He did not finish the sentence. While he was speaking, he raised his paddle to strike Sandy, and our fellow, acting upon Herbert’s suggestion, placed his hands upon the side of the canoe, and overturned it in an instant, emptying Tom and the turkeys into the cold waters of the bayou.

“Boo-hoo!” sputtered the robber, as he arose to the surface, his face blue with the cold, and his teeth chattering. “I’ll—fix—you for that—Sandy Todd!”

“We are not done with you yet,” exclaimed Mark. “You shan’t touch dry land again until you tell us what you have done with our boat.”

These words seemed to bring Tom to his senses again. He struck out manfully—I never saw a boy who could swim like that Tom Mason—and in spite of all Duke’s efforts 100to cut him off, he reached the island, and scrambling up the bank, disappeared in the bushes.

Then we were sure that he was caught. He could not escape to the mainland without swimming the bayou, and we did not think he would be likely to attempt that after the experience he had already had with cold water.

Sandy crawled out upon the raft as we moved past him, and the instant our clumsy vessel touched the shore, we all jumped off and dashed through the bushes in hot pursuit of the robber; but we did not come within sight of him until we reached the foot of the island, and then, to our surprise, we discovered him in a canoe and about half-way across the bayou. He was paddling for dear life; but when he saw us standing on the bank, he stopped to say a parting word to us.

“You said that you are not done with me, didn’t you?” he asked. “You will find, before the winter is over, that I am not done with you. I have a plan in my head that will astonish you when you find out what it is. Keep your eyes open, and good-by till I see you again.”

101“Say, Tom,” I shouted, “you told us this morning that you didn’t know any thing about our boat. You are in it now.”

“I know it,” he replied, coolly. “She was hidden in the bushes not ten feet from where you are now standing.”

“Well, we want her, and we’re bound to have her.”

“If you get her before I am done with her, just let me know it, will you?”

Tom dropped his paddle into the water and pulled leisurely toward the shore, while we ran back to the head of the island, intending to jump into his boat and pursue him. But he knew better than to try a fair race with us down the bayou.

Knowing that he could not escape with the canoe while we possessed the means to follow him, he held straight for the nearest shore, and when he reached it, jumped out and took to the woods.

We found our canoe where he had left it, and when we took it in tow and paddled back to the head of the island, we told one another that Tom Mason should never get his hands 102upon it again. We would put it into the wagon and take it home with us.

“This fellow has done a big business in stealing this morning,” exclaimed Mark, who had been counting the turkeys we found in Tom’s canoe. “How many do you suppose there are? Twenty-three; enough to furnish a Christmas dinner for half the planters in the settlement. We’ve done enough for one day, and I move that we break up camp and spend the rest of the afternoon in distributing some of these turkeys among our friends. We can’t use them all.”

We landed opposite the island, and knowing that we had a cunning enemy to deal with, left Duke and Herbert to watch our game, while the rest of us went to the camp to harness the mules.

I don’t know why it was, but the moment we arrived within sight of the shanty, a suspicion flashed through my mind that something had been going on there during our absence. My first thought was of my mare. She was gone. There was the sapling to which she had been tied, with a piece of the halter still 103fastened to it, but the mare was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is she, Joe?” asked Mark.

“That is just what I should like to find out,” I replied. “I never knew Bess to break loose before.”

“An’ she didn’t break loose this time,” said Sandy, confidently. “That thar halter has been cut with a knife.”

“I shouldn’t wonder if this was a part of the plan Tom Mason told us about,” said Mark. “After he landed from his canoe, he slipped around here and stole the horse.”

Something told me that this was the true explanation of the matter; but I would not allow myself to believe it until I had questioned the negroes who just then came running up. The answers they gave to my hurried inquiries destroyed my last hope. They had not seen the mare, and were greatly astonished to learn that she had disappeared.

Being very much interested in the result of our chase after Tom Mason, they had followed us to the bayou, leaving the camp to take care of itself. Our evil genius, or any other prowler, 104could have walked off with all we had, for there was nobody to prevent it.

I need not stop to tell you all that was said and done when we at last made up our minds that Black Bess had been stolen. It will be enough to say that Sandy rode back to the bayou after Duke and Herbert, and that they all set out in pursuit of Tom Mason, leaving me to superintend the operation of breaking up the camp.

I placed our canoe and the turkeys in the wagon, and, after tying Tom’s boat to a tree on the bank, so that he could find it again when he wanted it (I tell you it cost me a struggle to do that; I had half a mind to turn it adrift, and let it float out to the river and down to the Gulf of Mexico), I rode home with the negroes utterly disconsolate.

If you ever lost any thing you prized as highly as I prized Black Bess, you will know just how I felt.

Our fellows came in at dark, but without any thing encouraging to say to me, and father and I rode over to see General Mason, Tom’s uncle.

105We found the young rascal in the library, poring over a book, and looking none the worse for his cold bath in the creek.

He seemed greatly amazed when father told him that the object of our visit was to ascertain what he had done with the horse he had stolen, and so earnestly protested his innocence that I was almost willing to believe he was not the guilty one after all.

We had a few minutes’ conversation with the general, during which he promised to do all in his power to assist us in recovering the lost horse, and then returned home no wiser than we left.