“Lafitte Redivivus.—A gang of desperate smugglers have taken up their abode among the dark bayous and pestilent swamps of that portion of Louisiana bordering on the Gulf coast. They are composed of Chinamen, Malays, Portuguese and Creoles, and are led by two Americans. The New Orleans Collector of Customs expects soon to accomplish their detection, although he has thus far been unable to gain the slightest clue to their haunts, or to the manner in which their nefarious trade is carried on.”
“What do you think of that?” asked Walter, turning toward his companions to observe the effect the reading of this article would have upon them. He expected them to be astonished, and their actions indicated that they certainly were.
“I’ll tell you what I think about it,” said Perk, who was the first to speak. “I don’t doubt the existence of such a band, for some of the settlers have suspected it for a long time, and the presence of the revenue cutters along the coast shows that the government suspects it also; and I think that if we had got into a fight with those boys yesterday, we would have whipped three of the relatives of the ringleader of this organization.”
The arrival of the horses at this moment put a stop to the conversation; but when the young hunters had mounted and ridden into the lane that ran across the cornfield toward the swamp, it was resumed, and the matter discussed most thoroughly. But at the end of an hour, after each boy had expressed an opinion and brought forward his arguments to establish it, they knew no more about the smugglers than they did when they began the debate. Their horses, however, had made better use of their time, for while the discussion was in progress they had accomplished the four miles that lay between the house and the swamp, and brought their riders within a short distance of the old bee-tree. There the Club dismounted to await the arrival of the cart and the negroes, and to decide upon the plan of the hunt. They dropped the smugglers now, and talked about nothing but wild hogs.
At the time of which we write farming was carried on on an extensive scale at the South. Mr. Gaylord had more than three thousand acres under cultivation. He owned two hundred working mules and horses, double that number of young cattle which ran loose in the swamp, and two thousand hogs. These hogs were not managed as Northern farmers manage theirs. They were allowed to roam at will in the woods from one year’s end to another’s—all except those he intended to fatten, which were penned up during the latter part of the autumn and fed until just before the holidays, when they were slaughtered. Those that were permitted to run at large fared sumptuously on beech-nuts, acorns, and hickory-nuts. Mr. Gaylord’s neighbors all owned immense droves, which also ran loose in the swamp, and, of course, it was necessary to have some way of distinguishing them, so that each planter would know his property when he saw it; consequently the hogs were all marked—that is, their ears were cut in different ways. Mr. Gaylord marked his by cutting the left ear entirely off; so whenever he found a one-eared hog in the woods, he was pretty certain that it belonged to him.
Catching these hogs was as much of a jubilee with Southern boys as a corn-husking is with you fellows who live in the North. A planter set a certain day for the business, and needing all the help he could get, sent invitations to his neighbors, who responded by coming themselves and bringing some of their negroes. The most of the hogs, being tame and gentle, could be driven anywhere, and before night they would be confined in pens previously made for their reception; but there were always some wild ones among them that would take to their heels and seek refuge in the deepest parts of the swamp. Then came the fun. These hogs must be secured, and that could be done only by catching them with dogs and tying them—an undertaking in which there was plenty of excitement, but which was sometimes attended with considerable danger, as you will presently see. The hogs of which Walter and his friends were now in pursuit, had escaped from Mr. Gaylord’s drove during the previous autumn, and had remained at large in spite of all the efforts made to capture them.
In a few minutes the cart came up, and after a short consultation with the driver the plan of the attack was decided upon. The pony was tied to a sapling, the boys and negroes formed themselves into a line, and, after sending the dogs on in advance, began to move toward the old bee-tree, gradually lengthening the line as they approached it, in order to surround the game. The dogs did not give tongue and run about among the bushes, as they usually did, but, led by Rex, walked straight ahead, as if they understood the matter in hand as well as their masters did, and moved so slowly that the boys easily kept them in sight. They had gone perhaps half a mile in this order, when the hounds suddenly uttered a simultaneous yelp, which was followed by a loud grunt and a violent commotion in the bushes directly in advance of them. The game was started, and now the hunt began in earnest.