Even as he spoke the shadows began to filter through the swamp and in what seemed to Stanley to be an exceedingly short space of time Bub ahead was but a blur.
“Don’t hustle so,” cried Stanley. “I’m not used to this work. Guess I’ve lost both of my eyes.”
“Hold your head down,” warned Bub, pausing.
“What if we get lost?” asked Stanley in a hushed voice.
“Camp and build two fires near together. Two smokes means ‘lost’ to Abner and me. I’m glad you spoke of it,” said Bub.
The next few rods were covered in silence, and as the two came to a rest Stanley leaped frantically into the air, crying out in inarticulate horror, as a loud “Wish-h-h” hissed at his heels.
“What—what was it?” he half sobbed, crowding close to Bub.
That young gentleman laughed until too weak to laugh longer. Then he pounded Stanley on the back until the latter threatened to get angry.
“O Stanley, Stanley! You’ll finish me yet. I never knew you were a record breaker on jumping. What did you think that was?”
