Accordingly, they made their way back among the cypress and fell to work. A platform was built and well bedded with moss and a good fire started for the night.
For their supper, they only swallowed a few mouthfuls of their provisions. Truth to tell, the fish and frogs legs were beginning to pall on their appetites.
"I wish there was some game in this uncanny forest," Walter observed. "This stuff does not taste as good as it did. I believe, there is truth in that old statement that a man cannot eat a quail a day for thirty days."
"This forest is alive with game," Charley declared. "It's here even if we don't see it. Of course, there are no deer or bear for they avoid these watery places, but there are plenty of coons, wild cats, panthers, possums, and such things. I'll bet, there are at least a dozen animals watching our camp-fire right now and puzzling over it. Oh, there's plenty of game. The difficulty is to get it without guns or traps. I have been studying how to get some of it, and I think I have got an idea that may work."
It still lacked some time before dark, and Charley immediately began to carry out his idea. It was absurdly simple. Returning to the gulf's edge, a short search discovered several short, heavy pieces of timber drifted up among the trees. These they lugged back a ways from shore. Each timber was laid upon as flat a surface of roots as they could find. One end was then raised up a couple of feet and supported on a stick. To the stick they tied a couple of frogs legs and some of the bones from the gars.
"It's rather a primitive method of trapping but it may work," Charley observed. "The idea is that the animal pulling away at the bait will dislodge the stick and be crushed by the falling timber. Many animals, though, are too cunning to be tempted under such a dangerous-looking log, and others are quick enough to dodge its fall."
It was now nearly dark and our little party hurried back to their platform and fire for they had no desire to move about amongst the roots and snakes after night.
They were sleeping soundly when a succession of ear-splitting shrieks roused them into frightened wakefulness. It sounded like a woman crying out in mortal agony, but they had heard the sound before in their travels and knew it for a panther's screams. The animal was evidently close to them and they hastened to throw fresh fuel upon the dwindling fire. As the flames shot up the screaming ceased and the crashing of boughs told them of the hurried departure of the midnight prowler. As soon as the sounds died away, they stretched out to sleep once more knowing that they were in no danger so close to the fire.
Their first act on awakening in the morning was to look at the traps. They had set five altogether and every one had been sprung. The first two had caught nothing in their fall. Pinioned under the third, they found a large, fat possum, the fourth held a snarling coon by one leg, while the fifth and last, was empty but splattered with blood and hair.
"Here's where Mr. Panther got himself a feed," Charley observed. "There was a coon, or possum under this log until he came along and made his supper. I'll bet, he's chuckling to himself right now over the easy meat."