CHAPTER XX
DENIZENS OF THE FLORIDA SWAMPS
After all it was perhaps a wise determination on the part of Jack to thus take time by the forelock and endeavor to learn the lay of the land while a fitting opportunity lasted. To start out when darkness lay over everything, with no knowledge whatever concerning the prospect before them, would have doubled the chances for some grievous calamity overtaking them even before they were ready to strike their first blow.
Jack had a pretty strong suspicion they were in the neighborhood of some stretch of swampland–he was backed in this supposition by several things–the general low lay of the ground bordering the great lake and also the fact that snowy white egrets, as well as cranes, flew to and fro during the early morning, as though they must have a roost not far away and he had been told that as a rule these gathering places were to be found in the gloomy depths of a swamp.
If they should chance to lose their way in those dark and dismal swamps and find themselves mired in the mud holes, they would be in a sorry fix, and they might even be forced to shout for assistance in order to save their lives, thus revealing themselves to their enemy, for the tenacious muck had a tendency to act in the same treacherous fashion as quicksand, clutching the victim and dragging him down, inch after inch into its unfathomable depths.
Hardly were they started than one pleasing discovery was made. Just as Jack had hoped might be the case, a dim trail was struck not far back from the border of the silent lake, that gave promise of leading them in the course they planned to go.
Jack made certain that there were no signs of this trail having been used by human beings–at least in recent times; possibly it may have originally been an Indian trail in those days when Osceola and his gallant followers dared defy the powers at Washington and declare open war upon the few white squatters at that time in the southern portions of the Florida peninsula. Or, what was more probable still, it might be only the pathway used for ages by innumerable four-footed denizens of the swamp,–deer, panthers, raccoons, ’possum, foxes, wildcats and the like.
It was a meandering trail, evidently following the path of least resistance for on both sides the shrubbery, together with wild grape-vines and various other climbers, made a solid barrier that even a weasel might have found difficult to negotiate.
Presently their road skirted the border of the swamp Jack had felt so certain could not be far away. Here new and wonderful sights greeted their eyes and Perk in particular stared with all his might, taking in the flowers that festooned many of the trees–palmetto, live-oaks, wild plum, gumbo limbo, and queer looking cypress, with their cumbersome butts rising several feet from the ooze in which they grew. Most of the trees were festooned with long trailing banners of gray Spanish moss that gave them a most unusual appearance.
Since it was Perk’s first hand knowledge concerning the looks of a genuine Southern swamp, he felt justified in making frequent halts in order to gaze and wonder. Particularly was he impressed with the giant alligator that had been sunning himself on a half-submerged log and had slid off with a splash at their approach, also the multitude of water moccasins to be seen on stumps and other objects, looking most vicious with their checkered backs and dusty bellies.