Mass' George: A Boy's Adventures in the Old Savannah

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

  A pair of warm lips at my ear made me start again.

  "Dey all 'tupid, dem Injum. I know dey nebber tink we get up tree.Think we run home. All gone. Come down."

  "No, no; it is not safe," I whispered.

  "Yes; all gone dat way. We go oder."

  He was already descending almost as rapidly as a monkey, and I followedas fast as I could, fully expecting to be seized; but all was silent,and the fire had sunk quite low as we bent down and crept along by theedge of the opening, and directly after were well in the shelter anddarkness of the trees, with the fire behind only making its presenceknown by a dull glow.

  "Where are you going?" I whispered at last.

  "Get away from Injum. Come!"

  He said this shortly, and I began thinking that it was our wisest courseto get right away, and, as soon as we could find a spot at daybreak,cross to the other side, and then try to thread our way back home. Buta curiously dull, deadening feeling came over me, as I felt that theIndians must now get there first, and that we should be too late to givethe alarm.

  I was just thinking this when Pomp stopped short.

  "Mass' George take off um shoes," he whispered. "Carry um. Injum nosee footmarks a-morrow."

  I hurriedly did as he suggested, for there was wisdom in what he said,and I hoped that the print of my stockinged feet, if our trail was foundand followed, might pass for the impressions made by moccasins.

  I did not know much then about such matters, but still I had heard agood deal of talk about the skill of the Indians in tracking, andnaturally felt nervous as I immediately began magnifying their powers,and fancied that as soon as it was day they would take up our trail likea pack of hounds, and follow it step by step, first my clumsyshoe-prints, then Pomp's bare feet, with the great toe spreading wideout from the others, which all seemed long and loose, as I had oftennoticed and laughed at when I had seen them in the mud or sand. Infact, I had more than once followed him by his footprints, and as Irecalled all this, I seemed to see the fierce-looking savages coming onswiftly, and urged Pomp to make haste, though my heart sank as I feltthat every step took us farther into the wilderness, and with theexception of the knife the boy had secured, we were without arms.

  "Can't go no fasser, Mass' George," he said; "so dark. But done you be'fraid. Dem on'y 'tupid savage. Pomp too clebber let um cotch him'gain."

  In spite of my anxiety I could not help smiling at my companion'sconceit, and his reference to "'tupid" savages. Pomp's connection withcivilisation was making its mark upon him in other ways beside the rapidmanner in which he had acquired our tongue.

  And so we tramped on hour after hour, going, as I knew by the starswhenever we got a glimpse of them, nearly due west, and trying to avoidbreaking branch or trampling down thick patches of growth by making adetour.

  Of course this hindered us a good deal, but still it was the surest wayof avoiding recapture; and at last, after our long, weary walk, whosemonotony I had relieved by softly chafing my arms and wrists to get ridof the remains of the numbness produced by the bonds, there came afamiliar note or two from the trees overhead, and I knew that in a veryshort time it would be light.

  "Tired, Pomp?" I said.

  "No, Mass' George, but I dreffle hungly 'gain. Oh! Dem ugly tief 'tealde gun. No get duck for breakfass, eh?"

  "Let's think about escaping and getting back to the house before thesesavages.--Ah, it's getting light."

  I remember how eagerly I said this, as I saw the pale grey appearingthrough the leaves, and making the tall, gloomy-looking trunks stand uplike great columns in all directions.

  "Now," I said, "where do you think the river is?"

  "Ober dah," said Pomp, without a moment's hesitation; and he pointed tothe left.

  "Is it far?"

  "No, not far."

  "Let's get to it at once then."

  We struck off again, bearing to the left, and just at sunrise found thatwe were at the edge of the forest once more, with a well-defined track,showing where the river ran. Where we stood we were under the shade ofthe great trees, where scarcely anything grew beneath the spreading,tangled branches, while just beyond them there was a dense thicket ofsucculent growth glittering in the sunshine, where the leaves were stillmoist with dew, and some hundred or a hundred and fifty yards away thereonce more was the other edge of the forest, rising up over a rich bandof growth similar to that which was close to where we stood.

  The river lay between, I knew, though invisible from where we stood; andfor the moment I felt more hopeful, for, after the long, dark trampthrough the wilderness, we seemed to be now on the broad high-road whichled straight past home.

  Then my heart sank again, as I felt that perhaps the Indians werealready on our track, and that even if they were not, they were betweenus and safety.

  My reverie was interrupted by Pomp, who said briskly--

  "Now, Mass' George, what you tink?"

  "We must get across the river at once."

  Pomp made a grimace.

  "How we 'wim ober dah wid de 'gator all awaiting to hab us forbreakfass, Mass' George?"

  I shuddered as I thought of the task, but it seemed as if that was theonly thing to do, and then tramp along the opposite bank downward.

  "What are you doing?" I said, as the boy began to step about,cautiously penetrating once more into the forest, and stopping at lastbeside a moderate-sized pine, whose trunk was dotted with the stumps ofdead branches, till about fifty feet from the ground, where it formed apretty dense tuft, whose top was well in the sunlight.

  "Now we go up dah and hide, and rest a bit."

  "But why not try that tree, or that, or that?" I said; and I pointedrapidly to three or four more, all far more thickly clothed with branchand foliage.

  "If Injum come he fink p'raps we hide in dah, an' look. No fink we getup dat oder tree. Injum berry 'tupid."

  "But hadn't we better try and get across or down the stream?"

  Pomp shook his head.

  "See Injum, and dey dreffle cross dat we run 'way. Wait a bit, Mass'George."

  "But my father--yours--and Morgan?"

  "Well, what 'bout um, Mass' George?"

  "We ought to warn them."

  "Dey must take care ob demself. No good to go and be caught. Dat nothelp um fader."

  There was so much truth in this that I did not oppose Pomp's plan ofgetting up in the tree, and hiding until the pursuit was over. For itwas only reasonable to suppose that after a thorough hunt in onedirection, the Indians would come in the other. Besides, I was utterlywearied out the previous evening, and glad to rest my tired limbs byhanging against the rope, and taking the weight off my feet. Since thenwe had tramped through the night many dreary miles, made more painful bythe constant stress of avoiding obstacles, and the sensation of beinghunted by a pack of savages whose cries might at any moment rise uponthe ear.

  It was not a comfortable resting-place for one who felt as if he wouldgive anything to throw himself down and lie at full length, but itpromised to be safe, and following Pomp's lead, I climbed steadily upthe tree to where the dense head formed quite a scaffolding of crossingboughs, and here, after getting well out of sight of any one who mightbe passing below, we seated ourselves as securely as possible, andwaited for what was to come next.

  "Wait Injum gone, and we kedge fis' and roast um for dinner," said Pomp;and then we sat for some little time in silence, listening for theslightest sound.

  Birds we heard from time to time, and now and then the rustle of asquirrel as it leaped from bough to bough, but nothing else till therewere, one after the other, four ominous splashings in the river, whichgave me a very uncomfortable feeling with regard to crossing to theother side, and I looked at Pomp.

  "Dat 'gators," he said shortly. "No 'wim cross de ribber."

  Then quite a couple of hours must have passed, and Pomp began to fidgetabout terribly, making so much noise that if the Indians had beenanywhere
at hand, they must have heard.

  "Hush!" I said; "sit still."

  "Can't, Mass' George," he said sharply. "I so dreffle hungly."

  "Yes, so am I. What are you going to do?"

  "Get down again. Injum no come now."

  I hesitated; and as I was heartily sick of waiting, and famished, I mademyself believe that our enemies were not pursuing us, and descendedquickly to look at my companion.

  "What we do now, Mass' George--kedge fis?"

  "If we can," I said; "but how?"

  "Pomp show Mass' George."

  He led on through the thick growth just outside the forest edge, andlooking sharply from side to side, soon pitched upon a couple of long,thin, tapering canes, which he hacked off and trimmed neatly, so thatthey formed a pair of very decent fishing-rods, and he looked at metriumphantly.

  "Dah!" he said.

  "But where are the hooks and lines?"

  Pomp's face was wonderful in its change.

  "Wha de hookum line?" he said.

  "Yes, you can't catch fish like that."

  Scratching the head when puzzled must be a natural act common to allpeoples, for the boy gave his woolly sconce a good scratch with firstone hand and then the other.

  "Dat berry 'tupid," he said at last; "Pomp no 'tink of dat. What we donow?"

  I stood musing for a few minutes as puzzled as he was. Then the brightthought came, and I took the lighter of the two canes, cut off the mostpliant part, and then tearing my silk neckerchief in thin strips, Isplit the end of the cane, thrust in the haft of the knife, so that itwas held as by a fork, and bound the cane tightly down the length of theknife-handle, and also below, so that the wood should split no farther;and as the knife was narrow in blade, and ran to a sharp point, we nowhad a formidable lance, with shaft fully twelve feet long.

  "There!" I said triumphantly in turn, as I looked at Pomp.

  "'Tick um froo de fis?" he said.

  "Yes. We must find some deep pool, and see if we cannot spearsomething, so as to be food for the day."

  "Mass' George 'tick um fis, Pomp find um."

  I nodded, eager enough to try and get something in the way of food, sothat we might be better able to bear our day's journey, for I felt thatsomehow we must get back; but I always hesitated from starting, lest weshould be seen by pursuing Indians, and being recaptured, have no chanceof giving the alarm at home.

  Pomp was not long in finding a deep hole close under the bank, in whoseclear, tree-shaded water I could see about a dozen fish slowly glidingabout. They were only small, but anything was food for us then; andintroducing my lance cautiously, I waited my opportunity, and thenstruck rapidly at a fish.

  Vain effort! The fish was out of reach before the point of the knifecould reach him; and a few more such strokes emptied the hole, but notin the way I intended.

  "Find another," I said; and Pomp crept along, and soon signed to me tocome.

  As he made way for me, and I crept to the edge, I felt a thrill ofpleasure, for there, close under the bank, just balanced over somewater-weed, was a fine fish about a foot and a half long.

  "If I can get you," I thought, "we shall do."

  Carefully getting my spear-shaft upright, I lowered the point, andaiming carefully, I struck.

  Whether I aimed badly, or the refraction of the water was not allowedfor, I cannot say, but there was no result. I only saw a quivering ofthe surface and the fish was off into the river.

  The same result for a dozen more tries, and then Pomp saidprotestingly--

  "I nebber tink dat ob any good."

  "But it is good if I could strike one," I said, testily.

  "Um on'y tummle off 'gain, Mass' George."

  "Never mind; try and find another good hole, I'll do it yet."

  He gave his head a rub and went on along the river-side, peering amongthe overhanging bushes, and one way and another we made a trail that anyone could have followed; but likely holes and pools were scarce now, andI was getting hot, faint, and weary, when, after creeping close to theedge of the stream again, Pomp signed to me to give him the lance.

  I hesitated for a moment, not liking to give up, but ended by passingthe spear; and, taking it, Pomp lay flat down, crept to the edge wherethe bank overhung the river, as it proved, very gently thrust his eyesbeyond, drew back, and quickly picked a good-sized bunch of long grass,which he bound at one end, opened the bunch at the other, and put it onlike a cap, the result being that the long grassy strands hung rightover his face loosely.

  He laughed at me, and crept back again, moving his head slowly to andfro for a few moments, as if to get the occupants of the pool used tohis presence.

  Then very slowly and cautiously he manipulated the lance shaft, so thatit was upright, and holding it with both hands lowered the point downand down till six feet had disappeared, then seven, eight, nine atleast; and as I was thinking how deep it must be down there, the longcane became stationary, with the boy's hands holding it above his head.

  I stood leaning forward, wondering what luck he would have, and full ofhope, for I was too hungry to feel envious and hope that he would miss.But still he did not strike, and the moments glided on till I wasgetting quite out of patience, and about to creep forward and look downto see how big the fish might be, when, quick as thought, down went theshaft with a tremendous dig, and then, with the cane quiveringexceedingly, Pomp seemed to be holding something he had pinned tightlydown against the bottom, till its first fierce struggles were at an end.

  "Got him?" I exclaimed, joyfully.

  "Pomp 'tick knife right froo um," he panted; and then springing up, herapidly drew the shaft from the water, hand over hand, till, to myintense astonishment, he raised to the bank, muddy, dripping, andflapping heavily, the largest terrapin I had seen, and putting his footupon it, he drew out the spear, which had transfixed it right in themiddle of the back.

  "Dah!" he exclaimed; and seizing his capture, he led the way into theforest, where, risking discovery, we soon had a fire of dead sticks andpine-needles blazing merrily over the shell of our terrapin, off whichwe made at last, if not a good meal, a sufficiently satisfying one togive us spirit for trying to get back home.