“Undoubtedly,” smiled Mr. Pauling, “but I’m not leading any party into peril with the boys along.”
“Yes, you’re dead right there,” agreed Rawlins earnestly. “Some one would most likely get hurt and we can’t risk the boys. Well, any time you say the word, I’m ready.”
Half an hour later, the party set forth. Jules with four men—among them the powerful negro who had cut down Smernoff—led the way in a narrow dugout and Rawlins chuckled as he noticed that every man carried a naked, razor-edged machete beside him and that two were armed with old muzzle-loading guns. Unknown to Mr. Pauling, he had slipped Jules the Russian’s pistol and he felt confident that, should occasion arise, the Martinicans would, as he put it, “give the ‘reds’ some jolt.”
Silently as ghosts, the West Indians paddled through the waterways of the vast swamp, following, with unerring instinct, the channels and leads they knew, but leaving the white men hopelessly confused as to the direction in which they were traveling.
They had proceeded steadily for more than two hours, the sun was high in the heavens and the boys were wondering how on earth they could have drifted so far while they slept, when Jules’ canoe swung sharply to the left, his men ceased paddling and an instant later it grated upon a low clay bank with the boat close behind it.
With a signal for silence and caution, Jules stepped ashore, gave a few whispered orders to his men, and led the way up a narrow, almost invisible trail.
Close at his heels followed Rawlins, Mr. Pauling, the two boys and Sam, while the quartermaster and Bancroft remained in the boat beside the canoe in which Jules had left two of his men.
“Guess there won’t be any fighting just yet,” Rawlins remarked to himself. “Just a bit of scouting likely.”
Noiselessly as shadows the negroes slipped along the trail with the leather-shod white men striving to make as little sound as possible and ever climbing higher and higher up the steep hillside. Finally, after ten minutes’ steady walking, Jules halted, crouched down and crawled forward on all fours, signaling for the others to do the same.
As they reached his side they found themselves at the summit of a high hill with a precipitous side facing the swamp and thus leaving an unobstructed view of all below and before them, while they were effectually hidden among the dense growth of ferns and broad-leaved plants.