the glistening heaps the original kettle was
still boiling up heaps of it, so that it threatened to even smother the
fire.

He knew better now.

After the meal was over they sat around, taking things easy. Frank was
writing in his logbook, Will monkeying with his camera, while Jerry and
Bluff sat there discussing something that had to do with their respective
lung power--a question never, as yet, fully settled, although they had
had many a friendly contest to thresh out this rivalry.

"Frank, don't look up, please! Listen to me!" said Will in a low voice.

"Well, what is it?" asked the other, simply pausing in the act of writing
a word.

"I saw something moving over behind that bunch of saw-palmettos on your
left. Pretending not to be looking, I squinted out of the tail of my eye.
What do you think I saw? The head of a black man raised--an awfully
wicked-looking head, too, Frank. What had we better do about it?" went on
Will, his whispering voice quivering.

"Nothing. Leave it to me. Don't show any signs of excitement, please, but
just keep on with what you are doing," and Frank allowed his left hand to
slowly creep in the direction where his shotgun lay on the ground.

CHAPTER VI

THE SWAMP FUGITIVE

"Now, my friend behind the bunch of saw-palmetto, won't you join us?"

Frank had slowly risen, picking up his gun as he gained his feet. There
was a movement in the quarter where his gaze seemed directed, then a
human figure began to crawl into the camp, looking more like a great dog
than a man.

"Great Caesar's ghost!" ejaculated Bluff.

"Tell me about that, will you!" exclaimed Jerry, making a dive for his
own gun.

"Quiet, fellows! There's no need of any excitement. It's only a visitor
from the swamp, come to have a cup of coffee with us," remarked Frank
steadily.

He made no attempt to aim his weapon, being satisfied to let the negro
see that he was armed, and ready for action. The wretched outcast was
almost in tatters. He looked thin and haggard, in marked contrast with
the sleek and well-fed darkies the boys had generally noticed since
reaching the Sunny South.

Having reached a spot in front of Frank, the man arose to his full
height. There was a look of trouble on his face. He had been hunted like
a wolf for so long that naturally he believed every man's hand was
against him.

But Frank saw at once that Will had been mistaken when he remarked upon
the vicious look of the fugitive. He