That agreed pretty well with Scott’s decisions and they turned toward the north. The country was about as forlorn-looking as any that Scott had ever seen. The big timber had been cut away for some miles, probably to supply the old town, and there was nothing left but a scattering stand of scrub oak on the flat, white sand, with now and then a small patch of scrub palmetto. Aside from the old and blackened stumps there was not a trace of the civilization which had at one time flourished so near there. They had been traveling through this dismal waste for about an hour.
“Don’t look much like anything to eat around here!” Scott exclaimed in disgust.
Murphy did not reply. He was too hungry for words, but after about a half-hour’s silence he answered:
“Wonder why a fellow has to think about something he can’t get all the time. I try to think about something as far away from food as I can and in two minutes I’m longing for a beefsteak again.”
Scott had been trying the same thing and knew that it was true. But they both felt that their strength would hold out for the day all right and they would surely find some habitation before the end of the day. The sand was not soft enough to bother them and they were making good time. At least they did not have to worry about the men who were looking for them over there to the east.
They must have covered about six miles in this way when the same old curse of this country loomed up in front of them in the form of a swamp which stretched as far as they could see to east and west. They both sighted it at about the same time and looked at each other in utter disgust.
“I am for going straight through her,” Scott exclaimed determinedly, “if she is ten miles wide and a mile deep. If you follow the edge of it west it will probably lead to a quicksand on the beach, and if you follow it east you will end up on that same neck where those fellows are waiting for us. This country seems to have been built for their special benefit,” he added bitterly.
“I’m with you,” Murphy agreed doggedly. “I’d rather drown than be starved to death.”
So they held to their course and traveled straight toward the great black swamp. It might have looked like courage to an onlooker, but they themselves knew that it was desperation. If it happened to be a narrow one they would get through all right; if it was a wide one, well—they probably could not do much better by trying to get around.
They were not more than a hundred yards from the swamp when Scott stopped with an exclamation of surprise. They had come upon a distinct trail angling across their course. There were no footprints in it now, but it was a broad trail such as people make, and showed evidence of having been considerably used at no very distant date.