“Hi, yi! ole Creeper Cato done stove ’em off sebenteen times a’ready,” grinned Cato. “Tek’s Cato Creeper ter fool ’em, yi, yi!”
The lieutenant struck in harshly:
“Wal, thar’s an eend ter all things; so thar is ter ropes. Ye’ll find that out soon ef yer aint keerful; yer be too reckless by half.”
“Recollect, Cato, that old man Jeffries is casting a suspicious eye on you. He is very shrewd, and, if my suspicions are correct, he belongs to the Regulators. You can not be too careful; the oldest and slyest foxes are sometimes trapped.”
“And the trees have tongues,” added Fink.
“Whar’s de job, Mars’r Cap’n?” inquired Cato, impatiently.
“Near the brown cabin,” answered Downing. “We will go there now; I am in a hurry. It is nearly sunset, and I have a pleasant mission to-night.”
Turning, he led the way through the quiet, ghostly thickets, closely followed by his comrades. For nearly a mile they silently stole on, warily halting at the slightest rustle in the thicket. At length they entered the confines of a solemn, treacherous swamp, guarded by drooping trees, matted vines, and quiet as the grave. Here no song-bird caroled its merry lay; its dark and gloomy depths the squirrel shunned; while the “honk” of the wild-goose overhead, the hiss of the yellow rattlesnake, the growl of the bear, and the wail of the catamount were its only sounds. It was called “the Shadow Swamp.”
The narrow trail they had been pursuing now ran along the huge trunk of a fallen tree toward its matted butt. Here they stopped.
A gloomy, black expanse of thick, slimy water lay before them, covering about ten feet across in extent. How were they to cross its stagnant and deceitful surface? They could not wade—it would be death by suffocation; they could not swim through its weedy, sluggish current, and they had no boat. They wished to go across, for they intently regarded a small thickly-timbered island which lay in the middle of the pond. It was the robber stronghold.