CHAPTER XII.
AN ALARM AND A WELCOME.
When Tom and Joe made the disheartening discovery that in spite of alltheir efforts the fire was burning inside the hammock, they felt likegiving up in despair, and seeking another refuge.
"But then Sam would never find us," said Tom, "even if he gets back. Hewill find this place burned up and think the Indians have killed us all.We _must_ put this fire out, Joe, if it takes a week."
And straightway the boys began again, saturating large armfuls of mosswith water and laying them on top of the drift whenever the blaze showeditself. Heart-pine burns rapidly with a great blaze and much smoke, butit makes no coals, and a gallon of water will sometimes stop theburning of a great log of it, instantly. Every armful of wet mosstherefore had an immediate and perceptible effect which greatlyencouraged the boys. They worked hour after hour, not succeeding inputting the fire out, indeed, but managing to check it very decidedly,and better than all, to keep it away from the trees and from thealley-way leading to their hiding-place. Just as night fell, Joe calledout,
"I say, Mas' Tommy, it's gwine to rain bucketsful."
"I wish it would," said Tom, looking up to the black clouds which as yethe had hardly observed at all. Just then a sharp flash followed by asudden peal of thunder almost stunned the boys.
"Dat didn't strike fur from here," said Joe.
"No, it must have hit a tree down the river a little way," said Tom.
The rain followed in torrents, and little Judie came out of herhiding-place to beg the boys to come in lest the lightning should strikethem. They were encouraged by the rain, however, to continue fightingthe fire, and resumed operations at once.
"Hush!" said Tom presently, "there's Indians about. I heard 'em walkingin the brush. Run around the hammock quick, and let's hide."
All ran without a moment's hesitation, and secreting themselves in thedrift awaited results.
Presently they heard footsteps in the alley-way, and the voice of theirbig brother called out.
"Where are all you, little people, and what do do you hide from me for?"
The Indian they had heard was Sam creeping around to see who it was thatwas burning the drift. Seeing the boys and Judie, he walked out of thethicket, but before he could get to them they had taken refuge in thedrift from the supposed danger. Their joy at Sam's return, and Sam's joyat finding them safe and well instead of finding Indians dancing aroundtheir burning dwelling, may be imagined. Tom put his arm around hisbrother's neck, and could say nothing but,
"Dear old Sam," which he said over again every ten seconds during halfan hour at least. Judie hugged and kissed Sam, and cried over him andcalled him her "dear, best, big brother," and did all sorts of foolishthings which didn't strike Sam as foolish at all. Joe would sit awhileand then get up and dance until he knocked his shins against some of thedrift, and then set down again, and then get up and dance again,grinning with delight, I have no doubt, though it was too dark foranybody to see whether he grinned or not.
After a little while Sam went out and returning reported that the rainhad completely extinguished the fire. They then retired to the rootfortress which was unhurt, and Sam said he thought they ought to holdprayers before going to sleep. Sam prayed rather awkwardly perhaps, buthe prayed because he felt like thanking the Father who had watched overthem all in so many dangers, and the awkwardness of such a prayer is amatter of no consequence. They all laid down, after prayers, and oneafter another fell asleep.
The next morning a fire was started after the plan Sam had adopted inthe swamp, and some game which he had killed made a savory breakfast forall of them. Judie thought salt, which she now tasted for the first timein many weeks, was altogether better than sugar,--an opinion which itseems she never before held. After breakfast explanations were inorder. Sam told the others all about his adventures, and they gave him aminute history of their life during his absence. Then Sam explained thatfrom the number of savages he had seen on that side of the river, hethought the other side must now be comparatively free from them.
"Fort Glass is just twelve miles away from here," he said, "and I meannow to go there, just as soon as I get a little rested and feel strongenough. The country along this part of the river is very bad to travelthrough, though, since the river rose, as all the creeks are up, and ifwe could get up the river about eight miles, we should be within sixmiles of the fort, with a good country to travel through. We can't getthere, however, and so it's no use to talk about it. We must just strikeout from here and make our way across the best way we can."
But clearly Sam was in no condition to travel yet. His fever had comeback on him that morning, and it was necessary to postpone the journeyto Fort Glass until he should get better. He went into the woods duringthe day, and shot two squirrels and a wild turkey, but upon his returnfound himself unable to sit up longer. The bed of scraped moss was verywelcome to the weary and sick boy. The next day he was a little better,but the next found him very ill and partly delirious. The boys werefrightened. They had seen enough of the fevers of that region to knowthat they require immediate and constant treatment, and they had goodreason to fear that Sam could never recover without medicine and adoctor. They ministered to him as well as they could, but they could donothing to check the fever, which was now constant and very high. Samknew hardly anything, and rarely ever spoke at all except to talkincoherently in fits of delirium.