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Story 2—Chapter 8.

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it was evening when we were cast ashore in this new country, so that we had not advanced far into the forest before night closed in and compelled us to halt; for, had we continued our journey in the dark, we should certainly have been drowned in one of the many deep morasses which abounded there, and which we had found it difficult to steer clear of, even in daylight.

as the moon arose and the stars began to glimmer in the sky, i observed, to my dismay, that all kinds of noxious creatures and creeping things began to move about, and strange hissing sounds and low dismal hootings and wails were heard at times indistinctly, as if the place were the abode of evil spirits, who were about to wake up to indulge in their midnight orgies.

“oh! jack,” said i, shuddering violently, as i stopped and seized my companion by the arm. “i can’t tell what it is that fills me with an unaccountable sensation of dread. i—i feel as if we should never more get out of this horrible swamp, or see again the blessed light of day. see! see! what horrid creature is that?”

“pooh! man,” interrupted jack, with a degree of levity in his tone which surprised me much. “it’s only a serpent. all these kind o’ things are regular cowards. only let them alone and they’re sure to let you alone. i should like above all things to tickle up one o’ these brutes, and let him have a bite at my wooden toe! it would be rare fun, wouldn’t it, bob, eh? come, let us push on, and see that you keep me straight, old fellow!”

i made no reply for some time. i was horrified at my comrade’s levity in such circumstances. then, as i heard him continue to chuckle and remark in an undertone on the surprise the serpent would get on discovering the exceeding toughness of his toe, it for the first time flashed across my mind that his sufferings had deranged my dear companion’s intellect.

the bare probability of such a dreadful calamity was sufficient to put to flight all my previous terrors. i now cared nothing whatever for the loathsome reptiles that wallowed in the swamps around me, and the quiet glidings and swelterings of whose hideous forms were distinctly audible in the stillness of approaching night. my whole anxiety was centred on jack. i thought that if i could prevail on him to rest he might recover, and proposed that we should encamp; but he would not hear of this. he kept plunging on, staggering through brake and swamp, reedy pond and quaking morass, until i felt myself utterly unable to follow him a step farther.

just at this point jack stopped abruptly and said—

“bob, my boy, we’ll camp here.”

it was a fearful spot. dark, dismal, and not a square foot of dry ground.

“here, jack?”

“ay, here.”

“but it’s—it’s all wet. excuse me, my dear comrade, i’ve not yet acquired the habit of sleeping in water.”

“no more have i, bob; we shall sleep on a fallen tree, my boy. did you never hear of men sleeping in a swamp on the top of a log? it’s often done, i assure you, and i mean to do it to-night. see, here is a good large one, three feet broad by twenty feet long, with lots of stumps of broken branches to keep us from rolling off. come, let’s begin.”

we immediately began to make our arrangements for the night. with the aid of our clasp-knives we cut a quantity of leafy branches, and spread them on the trunk of a huge prostrated tree, the half of which was sunk in the swamp, but the other half was sufficiently elevated to raise us well out of the water. the bed was more comfortable than one would suppose; and, being very tired, we lay down on it as soon as it was made, and tried to sleep: having nothing to eat, we thought it well to endeavour to obtain all the refreshment we could out of sleep.

we had not lain long, when i started up in a fright, and cried—

“hallo! jack, what’s that? see, through the reeds; it creeps slowly. oh; horror! it comes towards us!”

jack looked at it sleepily. “it’s an alligator,” said he. “if it approaches too close, just wake me; but, pray, don’t keep howling at every thing that comes to peep at us.”

just at that moment, the hideous reptile drew near, and, opening its jaws, let them come together with a snap! even jack was not proof against this. he started up, and looked about for a defensive weapon. we had nothing but our clasp-knives. the alligator wallowed towards us.

“oh for an axe!” gasped jack.

the brute was within a few yards of us now. i was transfixed with horror. suddenly an idea occurred to me.

“your leg, jack, your leg!”

he understood me. one sweep of his clasp-knife cut all the fastenings—the next moment he grasped the toe in both hands, and, swaying the heavy butt of the limb in the air, brought it down with all his force on the skull of the alligator. it rang like the sound of a blow on an empty cask. again the limb was swayed aloft, and descended with extraordinary violence on the extreme point of the alligator’s snout. there was a loud crash, as if of small bones being driven in. the animal paused, put its head on one side, and turning slowly round waddled away into the noisome recesses of its native swamp.

scarcely had we recovered from the effects of this, when we heard in the distance shouts and yells and the barking of dogs. crouching in our nest we listened intently. the sounds approached, but while those who made them were yet at some distance we were startled by the sudden approach of a dark object, running at full speed. it seemed like a man, or rather a huge ape, for it was black, and as it came tearing towards us, running on its hind-legs, we could see its eyes glaring in the moonlight, and could hear its labouring breath. it was evidently hard pressed by its pursuers, for it did not see what lay before it, and had well-nigh run over our couch ere it observed jack standing on one leg, with the other limb raised in a threatening attitude above his head. it was too late to turn to avoid the blow.

uttering a terrible cry the creature fell on its knees, and, trembling violently, cried—

“oh, massa! oh, massa, spare me! me no runaway agin. mercy, massa! mercy!”

“silence, you noisy villain,” cried jack, seizing the negro by the hair of the head.

“yis, massa,” gasped the man, while his teeth chattered and the whites of his eyes rolled fearfully.

“what are you? where d’ye come from? who’s after ye?”

to these abrupt questions, the poor negro replied as briefly, that he was a runaway slave, and that his master and bloodhounds were after him.

we had guessed as much, and the deep baying of the hounds convinced us of the truth of his statement.

“quick,” cried jack, dragging the black to the edge of our log, “get under there; lie flat; keep still;” so saying he thrust the negro under the branches that formed our couch. we covered him well up and then sat down on him. before we had well finished our task the foremost of the bloodhounds came bounding towards us, with its eyeballs glaring and its white fangs glittering in the dim light like glow-worms in a blood-red cavern. it made straight for the spot where the negro was concealed, and would have seized him in another instant, had not jack, with one blow of his leg, beat in its skull.

“shove him out of sight, bob.”

i seized the dead hound and obeyed, while my comrade prepared to receive the second dog. but that animal seemed more timid. it swerved as the blow was delivered, received on its haunches, and fled away howling in another direction.

jack at once laid down his leg and sat down on the negro, motioning me to do the same. then pulling an old tobacco-pipe out of his pocket, he affected to be calmly employed in filling it when the pursuers came up. there were two of them, in straw hats and nankeen pantaloons, armed with cudgels, and a more ruffianly pair of villains i never saw before or since.

“hallo! strangers,” cried one, as they halted for a few moments on observing us. “queer place to camp. fond o’ water and dirt, i guess?”

“you seem fond o’ dirt and not o’ water, to judge from your faces,” replied jack, calmly, attempting to light his pipe, which was rather a difficult operation, seeing that it was empty and he had no fire. “ah! my light’s out. could you lend us a match, friend?”

“no, we can’t. no time. hain’t got none. did you see a nigger pass this way?”

“ha! you’re after him, are you?” cried jack, indignantly. “do you suppose i’d tell you if i did? go and find him for yourselves.”

the two men frowned fiercely at this, and appeared about to attack us. but they changed their minds, and said, “mayhap you’ll tell us if ye saw two hounds, then?”

“yes, i did.”

“which way did they pass?”

“they haven’t passed yet,” replied jack, with deep sarcasm, at the same time quietly lifting his leg, and swaying it gently to and fro; “whether they’ll pass without a licking remains to be seen.”

“look ’ee, lads, we’ll pay you for this,” shouted the men as they turned away. “we’ve not time to waste now, but we’ll come back.”

i remonstrated with my friend. “you’re too rash, jack.”

“why? we don’t need to fear two men!”

“ay, but there may be more in the woods.”

my surmise was correct. half an hour after, the hound was heard returning. it came straight at us, followed by at least a dozen men. jack killed the dog with one blow, and felled the first man that came up, but we were overwhelmed by numbers, and, in a much shorter time than it takes to tell it, both of us were knocked into the mud and rendered insensible.

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