"A colored lady tole me dem Germans eats people. You reckon dat's so?"
"Of course not," said Ted, "but they've done things in this war just as bad."
Having arrived at the chosen spot and cleared a space about six feet square, July dug a trench from its center to a point some four feet without, baited it with shelled corn and bridged it over with sticks. He then cut down a number of pine saplings and employed sections of these in building a pen about four feet high around the cleared space, afterward covering the top with sections of the same and weighting them down with heavy "lightwood knots." Lastly a few grains of corn were dropped at intervals from the mouth of the tunnel to a point several yards distant, so that wild turkeys feeding in that neighborhood would be attracted toward the snare. July explained that when these wild fowl entered by way of the tunnel and ate up the bait they would merely struggle to break through the well-lighted cracks of the trap, forgetting entirely the shadowed path to freedom at their feet.
As he worked, receiving some assistance from the interested boy, the negro talked and asked questions about other matters.
"When de time come for you boys to run away," he said once, "maybe I'll go wid you."
"That would be fine," said Ted, "because you could show us the way."
"I gittin' tired o' dis job yuh in dis camp," July continued. "Dem white mens don't pay me all dey promus, and I don't like de way some of 'em cusses me aroun', speshly dat Sweet Jackson. Mr. Hardy pay me his part, but he can't collec' a cent o' my money fum some of 'em. If it wasn't for dat waw, I'd go out o' dis swamp wid you tomorrow. Cap'n Ted, if I was to go out wid you, you reckon dem draft-bode people would grab me right up an' sen' me to de waw?"
"They'd examine you and might send you to a training camp, and you might even go to France," answered Ted, "but I don't think they'd ever put you on the fighting line. You see, in this big war there's a lot to do besides fighting and the thing is to find out what a man can do best. They might just make you a cook behind the lines, and pay you wages, too."
"Gee! dat 'ud suit me grand," cried July joyfully. "I'd love to cross de big water an' see all dere is to see—if only dey don't put me where dem Germans kin shoot me. You think I kin 'pend on dat, Cap'n Ted?"
"I don't know for certain, July, but I think so."