The lights of the searching party were steadily moving nearer. For a few minutes they seemed to hesitate at the spot where the road ended. Then they came on again and he could plainly hear the dogs splashing noisily about in the swamp. Still nearer—and the glare of pine torches made it possible for Bill to see that the party were poling canoes—three of them. The flares lit up the swamp, sending weird shadows here and there as the canoes advanced.
“Them dogs is tryin’ t’ climb in this here canoe,” sang out a rough voice. “There ain’t no scent on th’ water fer them t’ follow.”
“Let’s go back, Pete,” argued another voice, “if dose guys is in dis swamp dey’ll have t’ stay put till mornin’. Den we can catch ’em easy.”
“Sez you!” returned Pete with a snort. Bill recognized his surly voice as that of the overseer he had felled with his shovel. “Them two can see in daylight just the same as us. An’ one of ’em is an Indian, don’t forget. They’s round here somewhere now an’ with sunup, they’ll hike it.”
“Oh, yeah?” sneered the other. “They ain’t got no boat nor grub. What’s de use of rustlin’ in here now, Pete? Them hounds ain’t no good. What we need is water-rats.”
“Shut yer trap—and step on it with dat pole!” Pete’s ire seemed to be at the boiling point. “Long as I’m bossing this job, we goes on—see? You bums is pushin’ yer faces into de wrong picture when yer bumps up against me. Scram now—an’ shut yer traps!”
Bill held his breath. The canoes were now directly underneath the spreading branch of the cypress where he and Osceola lay hidden. He hugged the limb close, praying that the blazing flares below would not disclose his whereabouts to the trackers.
Suddenly a sharp hiss sounded in his ear. Thinking that Osceola wished to attract his attention, he turned his head toward the neighboring branch. To his horror he saw a huge snake lower its long black body from the branch above. The reptile’s furiously hissing head was not over a foot from his face. Disturbed by the lights, the angry creature was bent on attack!
Bill clung frozen to his branch. If he moved, the men beneath the tree would be attracted by the sound, and would probably sight him at once. Far better a swift death in the gloom of the cypress than slow torture for Osceola as well as himself if they were discovered.
All this shot through his mind with the speed of light. Then a branch cracked, there came a swishing sound through the air and the snake slid downward, missing him by inches. He saw Osceola draw back the stick with which he had lashed the moccasin, and the air was rent with a terrified scream from below.