Henry’s assumption that the great rain would freshen the swamp proved true. All the mists and vapors were gone. There was no odor of decaying wood or of slime. It seemed as if the place had been cleaned and scrubbed until it was like a fine lake. Silent Tom caught bigger fish than ever, and they agreed that they were better to the taste, although they agreed also that it might be an effect of fancy. The island itself was dry and sunny, but from their home they looked upon a wilderness of bushes, cane and reeds, growing in what was now clear water. The effect of the whole was beautiful. The swamp had become transformed.
“It will all settle back after a while,” said Henry quietly.
But a second rain, though not so hard and long as the first, filled up the basin again, and they foresaw a delay of at least two weeks before it returned to its old condition. They accepted the increased time with thankfulness, and remained in their camp, doing nothing but little tasks, and gathering strength for the future.
“I should fancy that the warriors would hunt us here some time or other,” said Paul. “Shrewd and cunning as they are, and missing us as they have, they’d think to penetrate it!”
“It seems so to me,” said Henry. “Red Eagle is a great chief, and, after he searches everywhere else for us and fails to find us, he’ll try for a way into this swamp, unlikely though it looks as a home.”
“But lookin’ at the water an’ the canes, an’ the reeds an’ the bushes I’ve figgered it out that he can’t come fur two weeks,” said Shif’less Sol, “an’ so I’ve made up my mind to enjoy myse’f. Think o’ it! A hull two weeks fur a lazy man to do nothin’ in! An’ I reckon I kin do nothin’ harder an’ better than any other man that ever lived. Ef it wuzn’t fur gittin’ stiff I wouldn’t move hand or foot fur the next two weeks. I’d jest lay on my back on the softest bed I could make, an’ Long Jim Hart would come an’ feed me three times ev’ry day.”
“I think,” said Henry, “we’d better build a raft. It’ll help us with both the fishing and the hunting, and with plenty of willow withes we ought to hold enough timbers together.”
The raft was made in about a day. It was a crude structure, but as it was intended to have a cruising radius of only a few hundred yards, pushing its way through strong vegetation, to which the bold navigators could cling, it sufficed, proving to be very useful in visiting the snares and decoys they set for the wild ducks and wild geese. The swamp, in truth, now fairly swarmed with feathered game, and, had they cared to expend their ammunition, they could have killed enough for twenty men, but they preferred to save powder and lead, and rely upon the traps, and fish which were abundant.
The skies were very clear now and they watched them for threads of Indian smoke which could be seen far, many miles in such a thin atmosphere, but the bright heavens were never defiled by any such sign. It was the opinion of Henry that the main Indian band, under Red Eagle, had gone northward in the search, but it would be folly to leave the swamp now, since other detachments had certainly been left to the southward. The ring might be looser and much larger, but it was sure to be still there, and it was not hard for such as they, trained in patience and enjoying a rare peace, to wait. Thus the days passed without event, and the five felt their muscles growing bigger and stronger for the great tasks bound to come. But a curious feeling that war and danger were half a world away grew upon them. They were in love for a time with peace and all its ways. They were reluctant even to shoot any of the larger wild animals that wandered through the swamp, and they felt actual pain when they slew the wild ducks and wild geese caught in their snares.
“I’m bein’ gentled fast,” said Shif’less Sol. “Ef this keeps on fur a month or so I won’t hev the heart to shoot at any Injun who may come ag’inst me. I’ll jest say: ‘Here, Mr. Warrior, hop up an’ take my skelp. It’s a good skelp, a fine head o’ hair an’ I wuz proud o’ it. I would like to hev kep’ it, but seein’ that you want it bad, snatch it off, hang it in your wigwam, tell the neighbors that thar is the skelp o’ Solomon Hyde, an’ I’ll git along the best I kin without it.’”