Read Mass' George: A Boy's Adventures in the Old Savannah Page 30


  CHAPTER THIRTY.

  I do not suppose that many who read this have ever heard a Red Indian'scry, and I hope those who have not never will. It was no doubt inventedon purpose to scare an enemy, and it answers its purpose thoroughly.

  To me it sounded blood-curdling, and a curious sensation ran through me,as if the blood was chilling in my veins. But on thinking of itafterwards, I did not believe that it curdled, and on talking the matterover just before sitting down to write this narrative of my boyishadventures, my doctor said it was all nonsense; that the sensation wasproduced by the nerves, and that if a body's blood curdled there wouldbe an end of him at once.

  Of course the doctor was right, for the effect of that cry was to makeme drop down in the boat again, whisper to Pomp to pull, and row withall my might.

  Then another yell came from our right, and was answered from the forest,the Indian who shouted evidently being not very far away.

  "Hear dat, Mass' George?" said Pomp.

  "Yes; pull hard. It is the Indians."

  "Well, who car' for old Injum? Dey can't cotch us now."

  "Don't be too sure," I whispered. "There may be some of them waiting toshoot at us with their bows and arrows."

  Pomp turned his head quickly over his right shoulder to look at the lowbushes and reedy plants by the river-bank, and in doing so thrust hisoar too deeply down, with the result that he received a blow in thechest, his legs rose up in the air, and his head went down between mylegs.

  He lay on his back for a moment staring wildly up at me over hisforehead, his eyes rolling and his mouth wide.

  "Why Mass' George do dat?" he cried.

  "I didn't, you stupid little nigger," I cried, angrily. "Get up andmind your oar. You caught a crab. Pull!"

  Pomp scrambled back in his place, and began to pull again as hard as hecould, for my voice had rather startled him.

  "What Mass' George say?" he whispered.

  "Pull!"

  "Yes, I pull; but what Mass' George say 'fore dat?"

  "I said you caught a crab."

  "Didn't! It was great big terrapum."

  "I mean you put your oar in too deep."

  "Den what for say catch um crab? Mass' George say Injum in de bushshootin' at Pomp, and den he look round an' no Injum dah; Mass' Georgeplay trick to fright um, and den call poor Pomp 'tupid lil nigger."

  "Will you hold your tongue and row?" I whispered fiercely.

  "Pomp can't hold um tongue and pull de oar bofe togedder."

  "Hush!"

  _Pow_--_ow_--_ow_--_ow_--_ow_--_ow_! Came faintly from among the trees,and Pomp turned sharply round, with circles of white showing round thedark part of his eyes; but this time he kept his oar out of the water,and the boat instead of turning toward the side continued to glideswiftly down the stream.

  "Dat de Injum?" he whispered.

  "Yes. Pull--hard!"

  He swung round in his place, and began to row again so sturdily that Ihad to work hard to keep the boat's head straight; and the streamfavouring us, we went on down at a rapid rate, though every now and thenI was obliged to whisper to him to easy as we neared some sharp curve orsandbank, to avoid which obstacles I had to keep turning round to lookahead.

  We had been rowing steadily like this for some time now without hearingthe cries of the Indians, but I did not feel any the more confident, forI knew enough of their habits to think that when they were most silentthe greatest danger might be near. The banks glided slowly by us, andwe had this great advantage, that even if we slackened speed the boatstill travelled fast. But Pomp worked hard, and evidently believingthat the danger was entirely past, his spirits rose again and he beganto laugh.

  "Poor ole Injum," he said; "I berry sorry for um. Poor ole Injum loseum knife. Pomp wonner what um say. How soon we get home now, Mass'George?"

  "Oh, it will take hours yet," I replied; and just then I turned my headto see that we were rapidly approaching a ridge of sand right in themiddle of the river. I was about to give my oar a vigorous tug, when Inoted that the stream divided, and ran in two swift currents on eitherside of the ridge. As we then were, I saw that the boat would gothrough the narrower one--the swifter evidently; and at the same momenta pile of wood and dead rubbish on the sandspit ceased to obstruct theview, and to my horror I saw that the little long islet, whose sandswere only just above the level of the water, was occupied by a group ofseven or eight alligators, the nearest being a monster, the rest varyingto the smallest, which was not above three feet long.

  I involuntarily ceased rowing and Pomp did the same, just as we wereentering the narrow channel, and so close to the sandspit, that theblade of the boy's oar held ready for the next dip swept over the sand.

  Pomp was gazing in the other direction, scanning the river-bank; and asI saw what was about to happen, I said in a quick whisper--

  "Look out!"

  Almost as I spoke, the blade of Pomp's oar swept over the rugged hornycoat of the largest alligator, which, like the rest, was sleeping in thehot sunshine perfectly ignorant of our near approach.

  The effect was instantaneous. As the boy turned sharply round to lookout, the great reptile sprang up, opened its huge jaws, and made a snapat the oar-blade, whisked round its tail, striking the boat, and thenmade a series of plunges to reach the water on the other side, itsactions alarming the rest, which on their retreat made the sandspit seemalive, and the water splash and foam; while Pomp uttered a yell ofhorror, loosed his hold of his oar, and dived down into the boat, torise again and stare over the stern as soon as I told him the danger waspast.

  It was all the work of a few moments, during which I was startledenough, especially when I saw the gaping jaws of the great reptile, andheard the snap it made at the oar-blade; but we were going swiftly by,and mingled with the terror there was something so comic in Pomp'sactions, that in the reaction I began to laugh.

  This brought Pomp's face round directly, and his reproachful black eyesseemed to ask me what I could see to laugh at.

  "Come," I said, "you can't tell me I was playing tricks then.--Why,Pomp, your oar's overboard," I cried as I realised that fact.

  "Yes, Mass' George. Dat great 'gator 'wallow um."

  "Nonsense!" I cried, as I tried to check the progress of the boat oncatching sight of the oar gliding swiftly down stream twenty yards away."There it is. Wait till it comes close. I'll try and manage to getyou near it."

  "Dah it am! Whah?"

  "There, just off to your left."

  "So um are, Mass' George. 'Gator no like um, an' 'pit um out 'gain."

  "There: mind! Now then, quick! Catch hold."

  I had managed to check the boat enough to let the oar overtake us, andPomp made a snatch at it, but drew back sharply with a low cry ofhorror.

  "What's the matter now?" I said. "Make haste; you'll lose it."

  "Great big Injum down dah," he whispered, hoarsely. "Um want to biteoff poor Pomp arm."

  "Nonsense! How could an Indian be there?" I said, as we floated onside by side with the oar.

  "Injum? Pomp say great big 'gator. You look, Mass' George."

  "You said Indian, Pomp," I continued, as I drew in my oar, picked up theboat-hook, and went cautiously to the side to look down into thetransparent water, where, sure enough, one of the reptiles was swimmingalong; but it was quite a small one, and a sharp dig down with theboat-hook sent it undulating away, and I recovered the oar, passing itto Pomp with a gesture, as there arose once more a cry from the forestright away back, and it was answered in two places.

  Pomp took the oar and began to row again steadily, staring back at thesandspit, now fast growing distant. Then all at once, as the faint cryarose from the forest--

  "Dat not Injum," he cried sharply; "dat fock."

  "Fox!" I said, recalling the little jackal-like creatures, of which Ihad seen one or two that had been shot by Morgan.

  "Yes, dat fock. Um shout like dat to noder fock in um wood when um loseumself."


  "Yes, but that would be at night," I said, wondering whether he wasright.

  "'Pose um lose umself in de day. Make um cry?"

  "No," I said, thoughtfully. "It is like the cry of the fox, Pomp, but Ithink it's the Indians making it."

  "Why Injum cry out like fock when um can cry like Injum?"

  "To deceive any one who hears them."

  "What deceive?" said Pomp.

  "Cheat--trick."

  "Oh!" he said, and we rowed on steadily hour after hour, realising howwe must have increased our distance from home in the night.

  Sometimes as we swept round one of the river bends we encountered abreath of fresh air, but mostly deep down in that narrow way windingthrough the forest the heat was intense; and there were times when, as Ipaused to sweep the perspiration from my face, I felt that I must giveup, and lie down at the bottom of the boat.

  But almost invariably at these times I heard faintly what I believed tobe the Indians calling to each other as they came on through the forest;and in the hope that perhaps after all we had got the start, and wouldreach home in time to give the alarm, I tugged at my oar again, and solong as I rowed Pomp never for a moment flagged.

  But I could not keep his tongue quiet. Now he would be makingderisively defiant remarks about the 'gators; then he had somethingdisparaging to say about the Indians; and when I spoke to him angrily hewould be quiet for a time, but only to burst out with reproaches at mefor calling him a "'tupid lil nigger."

  Nothing ever hurt Pomp's feelings more than that term, which seemed tohim the very extreme of reviling, and always went straight to his heart.

  It was getting toward evening, and a rich orange glow was beginning toglorify the long reach of the river down which we were rowing--sluggishly now, for we were both tired out--when it struck me that I hadnot heard the cry for some time now, and I made the remark to Pomp.

  "No; fock gone asleep now till de moon get up. Den fock get up too, an'holler."

  "No, Pomp," I said, "it's the Indians, and they are silent because theyare getting near the house now."

  "So Pomp get near de house, and don't care for de Injum. He so drefflehungry."

  So was I; but my intense anxiety drove away all that, and I tried to tugharder at the oar, for I knew that we were near home now; familiar treesand corners of the stream kept coming into view, and I was just thinkingthat very soon I should be able to look behind me and see ourlanding-place, when a faintly-heard hail came along the river.

  We both turned sharply, and Pomp exclaimed in words what I only toogratefully saw--

  "Dah de capen an Mass' Morgan in 'noder boat. Wha my fader too?"

  I stood up for a moment and waved my hand, and then sat down, and weboth pulled our best, after Pomp had grumbled a little, and wanted tolet the boat float down alone.

  A few minutes later I was holding on to the gunwale of the strange boatin which my father was seated, almost too much exhausted to speak.

  "I was getting uneasy about you, my boy," my father said, "for therehave been some fresh rumours at the settlement about Indians, and Morganwent round and borrowed this boat; we were coming on to see after you.Why, George, is anything the matter?"

  "Yes, father," I panted. "The Indians--they are coming on."

  "No," said Pomp sharply, and he struck his hand on the side of the boatto emphasise his words. "Mass' George hear de fock--lose him lil selfan holler, and he only tink it de--Ah, look! Look, Mass' George, look!Who dat?"

  He pointed back up the steam, where at the edge of the bank that theriver swept round previous to passing along the straight reach, therestood two tall figures, their feathers and wild dress thrown up by thebright glare of the setting sun. They were evidently reconnoitring, andthough we saw them clearly for a few seconds, the next moment theyseemed to have died away.

  "Indians," said my father, drawing in his breath with a low hiss; "andwe must not neglect this warning. Morgan, I'll get in here with theboys; you go back, make your boat fast at the landing-place, and run upto the house, and bring your wife and Hannibal down."

  "But the things in the house, sir?"

  "Lives are of more importance than chattels, man," said my father, inhis sternest and most military way. "Tell your wife she is to stop fornothing, but to come."

  "An' s'pose she won't, sir?" said Morgan sharply.

  "Carry her," said my father laconically, as he stepped into our boat andpushed the other off.

  "But bring nothing else, sir?" said Morgan, piteously.

  "Yes; two guns, and all the ammunition you can carry; but be quick, man,we shall be waiting at the landing-place. The Indians are coming inearnest now. We shall stop till you come, and open fire if it isnecessary." My father capped the gun he had brought from the boat."Stop. Hand me your gun and pouches."

  Morgan gave a stroke or two with his oar, and brought the boatsalongside of each other again, then handed the gun to me.

  "Now then," said my father, "off! Remember, I shall be trying to keepthe Indians at bay if they show, and delay on your part may mean theloss of our lives and--your own."

  Morgan gave his head a sharp nod, bent to his oars, and my father turnedto me, and cried, as if he were addressing a line of men--

  "Load!"