The sheriff deemed it a wise piece of precaution to leave a couple of his men at this point to act as a guard. If, as Alligator Smith believed, this was the only means of crossing the fearful muck bed, then, should they have the misfortune to do anything that would start the fugitive to action, he might still be nabbed in the act of trying to get over to the mainland at this point.
And this having been duly attended to, the rest of the posse, together with Alligator Smith and the Boy Scouts, prepared to leave the vicinity of the quaking bog, and start in among the trees with which this queer island, looking like an oasis in the midst of a desert, was pretty well covered.
Every fellow just knew that they must be very close to the place where the man they were hunting had his “hang-out;” and the knowledge caused them to experience a succession of odd little thrills that seemed to chase all over their bodies, as though some one might be pouring ice water down their backs. But at the same time there was a delightful sense of expectancy in the air that caused most of the scouts to feel that the climax to their long journey must now be at hand.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE OASIS IN THE QUAKING BOG.
Before they made any sort of a start upon what would probably be the last leg of their hunt, Thad believed it would be only a wise move if he and the sheriff had a little consultation with the man who was guiding them to where he believed the lair of the fugitive thief lay.
Thad had always found that a good understanding in the start was more than half the battle. It often prevented serious complications from arising, and mistakes being committed that were apt to prove fatal to success.
Accordingly he spoke to Alligator Smith along that line.
“A little hold-up right here and now won’t interfere with our hopes of success, will it, Tom Smith?” was the way he put it.
“Reckon as how it ain’t calkerlated tuh do theh same, suh,” came the reply; for the alligator-skin collector had learned to have considerable respect for this thoughtful and resourceful lad who was serving as scout-master in the absence of Doctor Philander Hobbs, the real head of the troop.
“Wait a little bit then, till I get the sheriff alongside,” added Thad. “I think we ought to have an understanding, so there’ll be no need of much whispering later on, when it might upset our calculations to indulge that way.”