It appeared from July's remarks to Ted, while Billy still questioned Hubert, that "Sweet"—a curious illustration of the adhesiveness of Cracker nursery nicknames—was second only to Buck in importance and influence among the slackers. Yet Sweet was not liked, being often sullen and ill-tempered, while Buck, the "cock of the walk," a great stalwart fellow with a waste of muscle and a kindly disposition, was generally popular.
The tramp of approaching feet was now heard and July turned hurriedly to the fire, where he had been frying cornbread. A heavy young man advanced out of the darkened woods, a rifle over his arm, followed by two other young men carrying a deer suspended from a stick which ran across their shoulders. Three dogs trotted into the fire-lit circle ahead of the hunting party. The two burdened men threw the deer down on a carpet of palmetto fans and at once began to skin it, merely glancing once or twice at the strange boys. The leading hunter, who, according to July's whisper, was Sweet Jackson, betrayed curiosity.
"Who-all's this?" he inquired gruffly, approaching the fire. "Billy, git me some water quick. Whur did you boys come from?"
Ted briefly explained, but Sweet Jackson did not appear to be quite satisfied, a gleam of suspicion showing in his eyes as they remained fixed upon Ted's uniform.
"What's them clothes you got on?" he asked, and when the boy had explained he was mysteriously informed in a voice suggestive of menace: "If they sent you in the Oke-fi-noke to find our camp and go back and tell 'em, they played thunder."
Another party of hunters now came out of the dark woods, exhibiting an otter skin as their single but valuable prize. Among these was Buck Hardy, who stood in the background only long enough to hear the outline of the boys' story and then approached them, his manner quite friendly.
"How you come on, boys?" he asked, extending his hand to Ted. "This one"—as he turned, smiling, to Hubert—"is as rosy as a little gal."
Hubert was highly indignant at this, but both he and Ted felt intuitively that the "cock of the walk" would prove their best friend in the camp. As he questioned them and appeared to be satisfied with their straightforward answers, they observed him narrowly. He was fully six feet tall and evidently an uncommonly muscular and powerful man. But what attracted the boys was his atmosphere of quiet resolution and the kindly expression of his eyes. They wondered that such a man, who looked brave if he was not, should be a hiding slacker.
Meanwhile July had been busy frying thin strips of fresh venison steak, and now announced that supper was ready. The slackers thereupon took their places round the fire, and the boys had abundant opportunity to study the faces of all—an inspection that, except in one or two instances, found little that was reassuring. Ted and Hubert were politely invited by Buck to join in the feast, but, having already eaten their fill, accepted only a cup of coffee.
The hapless Billy, who had taken the liberty of appeasing his hunger before supper was ready, now lay on the grass, reciting in a sort of sing-song: "Mena, mino, mo; ketch a nigger by the toe, if he hollers let him go." This was followed by: "Quemo, quimo, dilmo, day; rick, stick, pomididdle, dido—Sally broke the paddle over Mingo's head." The childish mind of the young man seemed to delight in nursery rhymes. He was beginning, "One-two, buckle my shoe—three-four, open the door," etc., when Sweet Jackson called his name roughly and sent him on an errand.