As they stood there on the edge looking out, while the alligator hunter was making sure that he knew exactly where to enter the muck bed, so as to feel out the sunken roadway that wound in zig-zag fashion over to the island, good-natured Bob White felt some one poke him in the side.
Looking down he saw the solemn face of Bumpus there; and there was an expression of almost pitiful appeal in the eyes of the fat scout, such as the Southern boy remembered once noticing in the brown orbs of a deer he had wounded, and which had to be put out of its misery.
But then of course he did not anticipate that Bumpus was going to ask him to do the merciful thing by him, and end his sufferings; though he understood plainly enough that the stout scout was enduring some sort of agony of mind.
“Will you do me a favor, a great favor, Bob, please?” Bumpus whispered, looking quickly around at the same time, as though wishing to make sure that neither Davy nor Giraffe were close enough to overhear what he said.
“To be sure I will, Bumpus,” quickly replied the other; “anything within reason you can count on me doing, suh. I believe in scouts standing by each other.”
“Oh! thank you, Bob; it’s kind of you to say that,” Bumpus went on, as he tried to thrust something into the hand of the other. “Please take this, and if it does happen, pull like everything; because I’m heavy, you know, and chances are I’d sink quicker’n any of the rest of you.”
“But—this is a piece of heavy cord, Bumpus, perhaps the same that was stretched across the trail a little while ago?” exclaimed the astonished Bob.
“That’s right, I was quick to see how I might use it, for scouts are expected to keep their brains moving all the time. You see,” continued Bumpus, confidingly. “I just feel it in my bones that I’ll be the one to miss connections with that crazy old hidden path, and fall slap into the mud, and I’ve got the other end tied under my arms; so in case you hear a splash, be ready to hold tight, Bob. That’s a good fellow!”
CHAPTER XXIII.
AN ANCHOR TO WINDWARD.
When Bob White heard Bumpus talk in this way he took notice of the fact that the stout scout was in deadly earnest in what he said. It was no laughing matter, apparently, because Bumpus had evidently made all sorts of preparations for the expected disaster, besides fastening one end of that cord around his body, and asking his fellow scout to hold the other.