Wilmer M. Ely

“ The balance of it was spent lying on their soft moss couches in the warm sunshine talking over past events and planning for the future.
With the night came Watson again to sit in the shadows by their camp and listen greedily to what they could tell him of the world outside. In spite of the man's bloody record of crime, they could not help a touch of pity for his loneliness. And the truth was more indelibly stamped on their minds that evil brings its own punishment.
They told him about the theft of the captain's clothes, and he listened attentively. ”

“ The fat pine-sticks flared up as though saturated with oil, their flickering blaze lighting up a weird scene; the gaunt, bare, white trees, ghosts of a departed forest, the miry ground strewn with eggs of all sizes, shapes and colors, and dead birds of many kinds, in amongst which writhed and twisted dirty-looking, repulsive water moccasins and brilliant yellow and black swamp snakes, while overhead on the whitened limbs, roosted hundreds of birds partly roused from their sleep by the glare of the torches.
"We'll have to shoot with one hand and hold our torches with the other," said Charley. ”

“ Walter reached for the end of his net, tingling with anticipation. The first few yards came in empty, then a score of white bellies showed in the dripping webbing as he hoisted it into the boat. Pride gave way to dismay. Instead of the clean, glistening mullet he had expected, these were slimy, flat-headed fish, loathsome to look at, emitting repulsive grunts and reeking forth a sickening odor. Each was hopelessly tangled in a mess of webbing. ”

“ Not a sound of life came from the jungle's gloomy depths. The only living things seemed to be the huge, sluggish moccasins that slipped noiselessly from the road into the pools as the mule approached. Evidently the surveyor had decided that the old road was the only feasible route through the jungle.
Suddenly Charley ducked his head, as a whining, singing sound, passed over him. He had heard that whining message before, and knew it for what it was.
"A rifle bullet," he ejaculated, bewildered, as he reined in the mule and looked around. ”

“ Charley set aside the basin of water and rising to his feet looked down on the fellow with a face full of scorn.
"You great, big, drunken, cowardly murderer," he exclaimed. "It's a pity that bullet didn't kill you. You are not fit to live on God's green earth. You're shot when trying, with a crowd of your fellows, to kill a lone, inoffensive man. Your friends don't think enough of you to come back and get your carcass. We bring you in and care for you and instead of thanks, your first words are a growl and a threat. You are a cowardly, disgraceful cur,—that's what you are." ”

“ He soon found that it was no easy task he had set himself. Between himself and the fire fifty yards away, intervened the heaviest growth of timber he had ever seen; palms, sweet gums, satinwoods, and pines mingled in close and wild confusion, while the ground beneath them was a matted mass of vines and creepers.
For a moment Walter hesitated. Some of the vines and creepers, he knew, were poisonous. To touch them meant sores, swellings, and suffering. But it was only for a moment he paused. The thought of how much might depend on his errand drove him on. ”

“ BOB IS SENT HOME.
It was strange sounds coming out of the mists that had drawn the lads' attention. They were not kept long in suspense as to the nature of the noises, for it soon became plain that they were human voices, one shrill and piercing, the other deep and guttural. Nearer they drew, until out of the white vapor loomed a huge, grotesque object, which gradually resolved itself into a big covered wagon, drawn by four gaunt oxen. In the front of the wagon sat an Indian woman, urging the weary beasts on with whip and shrill cries. ”

“ No horse could travel through that dark, gloomy expanse. It was a floating forest. Great cypress and giant bays reared their mighty stems from the surface of black scummy water. Amongst their boughs bloomed brilliant orchids and from limb to limb stretched tangled masses of creeping vines and briers.
The trees with their huge spreading roots grew so closely together that it was with difficulty that Walter forced the canoe in and out between them. His exultation at his escape from their enemies had given way to a settled despair. ”

“ Charley caught the Greek's arm as it rose for another blow. "Stop that, you big brute," he cried, trembling with anger. "You have no right to beat a little fellow like that, no matter what he has done. If you hit him another blow, I'll have you arrested."
"He won't understand you, Charley," Walter cautioned.
But the Greek did understand. He turned a look of the deepest hate on the plucky lad. For a second he seemed in the act of striking him with the heavy whip, but Charley did not flinch. "Try it, if you dare," he cried. ”

“ His voice and face took on a deeper tinge of melancholy as he said, "Soon we will all be gone and only be a memory growing dim with the passing years."
"Oh, I guess, it's not as bad as that," said Charley, cheerfully. "The Seminoles will gradually adjust themselves to civilization and begin to increase once more."
"We are a homeless people," declared the lad. "Your race took all, except this swamp. Here we have lived at peace where no white man would live and now even it is being taken from us. Every week from the East Coast, great canals, like rivers, creep further and further into the swamp. ”

“ The Spaniards were quick to catch the idea, and, stationing themselves at regular intervals along the path, with their green spruce boughs they beat out the flames that leaped the little path and threatened the tents. The prairie grass was knee high, and as dry as tinder, and, although the wind was against it, the back fire ate its way steadily back toward the leaping flames.
"We have done all we can," said Charley to his chum, as they stood watching anxiously the approach of the flames. "It's a toss-up whether we will win or not. If our camp goes, we are done for, that's all. ”

“ Night had fallen upon a wild Florida forest, and all was still save for the hooting of a distant owl and the occasional plaintive call of a whip-poor-will. In a little clearing by the side of a faint bridle-path a huge fire of fat pine knots roared and crackled, lighting up the small cleared space and throwing its flickering rays in amongst the dark, gloomy pines.
At the edge of the clearing, two wiry little Florida ponies, tethered with rawhide ropes, browsed upon the short, dry wire-grass. ”

“ Ten minutes before she had been a dainty thing in her coat of white, now she looked like an ancient wreck with her scorched and smoke-grimed sides on which the melted paint hung in ugly, dropsical blisters. The worst of it was there was no redress for the damages done her. So cunning was the scheme that it bore all the semblance of an accident, though the wrathful lad knew it was anything but that. He could imagine scoundrels chuckling to themselves in the closed shack and his blood boiled in his veins. How we would like to repay them for the fright and damage. ”