“But what shall we do this afternoon?” asked Perk. “That’s the question now before the house.”
“As far as you are individually concerned,” replied Bab, “I will promise you that the time shall not hang heavily on your hands. I’ll beat you at playing backgammon.”
The majority of the Club were in favor of Walter’s proposition, and, after some remonstrance from Eugene, who couldn’t see how in the world he was going to pass the rest of the day, as he was not much of a backgammon player, and had no new book to read, it was finally adopted. The boys then, suddenly remembering that they had eaten no breakfast and that they were very hungry, put their horses in the stable and walked toward the house. Sam speedily served them up a cold lunch, and at three o’clock they were summoned to dinner, to which they did ample justice.
Bab kept his promise to Perk, and during the whole of the afternoon, and until late at night, made things exceedingly lively for that young gentleman, beating him at every game of backgammon. Walter and Featherweight passed the time with reading and studying; and Eugene, after he had made all the necessary preparations for the hog-hunt on the morrow, went up to the “cabin,” as Uncle Dick’s room was always called, and, finding the old sailor absent, took possession of his sofa and went to sleep.
There were no panthers to prowl about and disturb their rest that night, and the young hunters did not know that anything unusual happened on the plantation. But, for all that, something unusual did happen, and if the boys had witnessed it, they would have been much more excited and alarmed than they had been at any time during the day or previous night. About eight o’clock two horsemen, one wearing a cloak and riding a white horse, and the other wearing an overcoat and mounted on a bay horse, galloped down the road and drew rein in front of the gate which opened into the carriage-way leading to Mr. Gaylord’s dwelling. There they stopped and held a long and earnest consultation, after which they opened the gate and were on the point of riding toward the house, when two men suddenly sprang from the thick bushes that grew on each side of the carriage-way, and while one caught the bridle of the white horse and held fast to it, the other seized his rider and pulled him to the ground. A few gruff words were addressed to the other horseman, who sat motionless in his saddle for a moment, then faced about and tore down the road as if all the wolves in the parish were close at his heels, followed by the white horse, which was riderless; and before the sound of their hoofs had died away, the men had disappeared as quickly as they had come, taking their prisoner with them, and the carriage-way was once more silent and deserted.
The Club, little dreaming that such a proceeding as this had taken place almost within sight of their window, slept soundly all night, and bright and early the next morning might have been seen with their overcoats, comforters and gloves on, walking up and down the back porch of the house, waiting for their horses to be brought out. In front of the door stood a light two-wheeled cart, which, besides two large baskets of eatables, contained the four negroes who were to assist the boys in securing the wild hogs—three of them curled up among the straw on the bottom of the vehicle, and the other sitting on the driver’s seat holding the reins over a very old and infirm pony, which stood with his head down and his eyes closed, as if fast asleep. Gathered about the foot of the steps that led to the porch were the hounds, some lying down, others walking restlessly about, and all of them showing by unmistakable signs that they were impatient at the delay. Conspicuous among them stood Rex, who was the Club’s main dependence that day—as indeed he was every day—the other hounds not being considered of much service in wild-hog hunting.
“Cuff,” said Eugene, addressing himself to the driver of the cart, “you might as well go ahead, and when you pass the stables hurry up those horses. We’re tired of waiting for them. Let’s sing something, fellows.”
Perk, Bab and Featherweight pulled their mufflers down from their faces and moved up closer to Eugene, who coughed once or twice and sang in a clear soprano voice:—
“A southerly wind and a cloudy sky
Proclaim it a hunting morning;