“Well, if this don’t beat all creation!” exclaimed Phil, as he continued to stare at the uninvited passenger on board the Aurora. “See here, Larry, own up now that you saw him crawl aboard our boat?”

“That’s just what I did,” chuckled the other, as though he enjoyed the joke. “If you hark back a bit, perhaps you’ll remember my calling out, just at the time you discovered moving figures through the trees? That was because I had caught just a glimpse of something, I didn’t know what, slipping under the blankets.

“Now I can understand why you were so nervous, and wanted to hurry off,” said Phil. “You were afraid the fierce colonel would come back, and search our craft for stowaways.”

“Sure I was; I admit it,” echoed Larry. “But Phil, you really meant what you said just now, didn’t you about wanting to shake hands with the boy who knocked Bob Brashears galley west, you know?”

Phil turned to the sallow-faced, defiant figure that was observing their every action. The boy looked as though ready to brave them to their face, if so be they turned out to be new enemies; or even take a header over the side, should they show signs of wanting to detain him against his will.

But as soon as he looked into the smiling countenance of Phil he must have realized that in taking this liberty of boarding the motor boat, when so hard pressed by his enemies, he had made a lucky move indeed. For in those friendly eyes he saw genuine warmth.

“Shake hands, won’t you, my friend?” said Phil, thrusting out his own digits in the free and easy fashion customary with boys. “I’m glad you punched that Bob Brashears. I hope his black eye will hang to him for a month. And I’d have given a heap to have seen the mill when you licked him. I’m only surprised he dared tackle you alone, big cub that he is.”

“Huh!” the boy broke out with, as a glimmer of a smile appeared flickering athwart his thin, serious looking face; “they was two of ’em, mister. But t’other, he run like a scart rabbit the first crack he got under his ear.”

Then Larry insisted on also squeezing his hand warmly.

“When I heard that man say they were chasing a boy,” he remarked, “I knew what it was I’d seen scramble under the blankets; and I made up my mind that they wasn’t going to get you, if we had to fight for it. Just to think of seven hulking men after one small boy. But we’re too far away now for any of them to get you; and perhaps you’d like to stay aboard till we reach your home below; because we expect to pass all the way to the gulf, you see. He’d be welcome, wouldn’t he, Phil?”

“Sure he would,” affirmed the other, heartily, as he eyed the boy; and perhaps a dim suspicion that he might find the fugitive valuable as a guide began to flit through his mind then and there.

“We’ve got oceans of grub aboard; and perhaps you wouldn’t mind helping out in the cooking line; because, you see, I’m the one in charge of that part of the game; while Phil, he takes care of the running gear. Anyhow, no matter, you’re welcome to stay with us on the trip. We’re glad to know the fellow who dared lick that big bully of a Bob Brashears, see?”

The boy let his head drop. Perhaps it was because he did not want to let these generous fellows see the tear in his eye, and of which he was possibly ashamed, though without reason.

“Say, that’s right kind of you both,” he exclaimed presently, when he could look them in the eyes without winking. “And I’m gwine to say yes right away. I wanted to stay up here yet a while; but I saw the town was gettin’ too hot foh me; and I made a fix with a friend I got thar, so’s I could know how it all came out. Yep, I’ll stick with you, and be glad in the bargain.”

“What might your name be?” asked Larry, frankly.

“Tony,” came the immediate answer; but although it might be supposed that the swamp boy had another name besides, he somehow did not seem to think it worth while to mention the same or else had some reason for keeping it unspoken.

“Well,” remarked Phil, who had listened to the way the other spoke with more or less surprise; “I must say that if you do live in the swamp, and your folks are a wild lot, according to what these people around here say, you talk better than any of the boys we’ve yet run across since we struck this place. Ten to one you’ve been to school a time, Tony?”

The swamp boy smiled, and shook his head in the negative.

“Never seen the inside of a school in my born days till we come up here a while back, me an’ little Madge. But my mother didn’t always live in the swamps. Once she taught school down in Pensacola. Dad met her when he was ferryin’ shingles, an’ that’s how it came around. She says as how her children ain’t a-goin’ to grow up like heathen, if they does have little but rags to wear. And so she showed me how to read, and I’m wantin’ to get more books. Looky here, this is one I bought since we kim up the river,” and as he spoke he drew out from the inside of his faded and torn flannel shirt a rather soiled volume.

“Robinson Crusoe!” exclaimed Phil, as he vividly remembered the time away back when he too had treasured the volume so dear to the heart of the average boy at a certain age. “Well, Tony, I’m going to make you a promise, that when I get home again there’s going to come down this way a box of books that will make you happy. Just to think of it, a boy who longs to know what is going on in this big world, and kept back to spend his life in a swamp. Why, we’ve got a few aboard here right now, that you shall have when we say good-by to you.”

Tony hardly knew whether he might be dreaming or hearing a blessed truth. The look he bent on the kind-hearted Northern lad told how his soul had been stirred by these totally unexpected acts of friendly regard.

“That’s awful good of you, sah!” he murmured, as his eyes dropped again perhaps because he felt them moist once more; and according to a swamp boy’s notions it was a silly thing to give way to weakness like this.

“But whatever made you come up here, Tony, so far away from your home?” Larry asked. “You must have known how the people in this town hated your folks; and that if they found out you came from the McGee settlement of squatters they’d make it hard for you.”

“Yes, I knowed all that,” replied the other, slowly; “but you see, somebody jest had to come along with Madge; an’ dad he dassent, ’case they had it in foh him.”

“Madge that means your little sister, doesn’t it, Tony?” queried Larry.

“Yep. She’s jest so high, an’ she’s been blind a long time. Last year a gent from the No’th that called hisself a professor, happened to git lost in the swamps, and some of our folks they fetched him in. He was took good care of, an’ after a bit was guided out of the swamps. He seen Madge, an’ he told dad an’ mam that if only she could be treated by a friend o’ his’n, who was a very great eye doctor up No’th, he believed Madge, she’d git her sight back ag’in.”

Phil started, and looked more closely at the boy as he heard this; but he did not say anything, leaving it to his chum to learn all there was to know about the mission of Tony from the swamps, to the town of those who hated his clan so bitterly.

“And you brought your little blind sister all the way up here, did you?” asked Larry, with a ring of real sympathy in his cheery voice.

“Sho! that want nawthin’ much,” declared the other, scornfully. “I had a little dugout, which I paddled easy. I spected to stay ‘roun’ till the doctor he kim, which was to be at a sartin day; but yuh see they run me out. But I gotter a chanct to fix it all up. Madge, she’s stoppin’ at the cabin o’ a man dad used to know. His name is Badger, an’ he’s got a boy Tom, jest my age.”

“That’s nice now,” remarked Phil, taking a hand in the talk. “And is she going to stay there till this Northern eye doctor arrives, to perform the operation?”

“Yep; but mam guv me the money to let her into the horspittal, so she c’n stay thar, and be looked arter till she’s well. Mam sets a heap of store by Madge; an’ dad too, I reckon. They ain’t gwine to sleep much till they knows whether the operation pans out right or not.”

“But how will you know, now that you have been chased out of town?” asked Larry. “Perhaps this Tom Badger will go down the river to carry the news?”

“Shucks, no,” said the other, with a flash of pride coming over his thin face; “I fixed that up all right. He’s gwine to send a message to weuns just as soon as he knows what’s what; and we’ll git the news sure inside o’ a few hours.”

“But say, you don’t mean to tell me there’s a telegraph station in the swamps?” ejaculated the astonished Larry.

“Nope,” replied Tony, instantly. “Jest a pigeon. Tom, he knows how to write, and he’s gwine to tuck a little letter under the wing o’ the bird I fetched up.”

“A carrier pigeon, you mean!” cried Larry. “Why, how fine you planned it, Tony. Just to think of it, having the news flashed straight home, over miles and miles of swamps. But what if a hawk got your bird, what then?”

“I tuck up three of ’em, so’s to make sure,” Tony made answer. “He promised to set ’em all free one after t’other, and each carryin’ the news. So you see, sah, one of ’em’s jest bound to sure git home.”

“But see here, where under the sun did you ever get carrier pigeons? That’s the last thing I’d expect to find away down in the Florida swamps,” Phil asked.

“A man in Pensacola, as knowed my mam afore she married dad, sent a pair home to her last time they took shingles down thar, which was a year back. I made a coop foh the birds an’ they hatched out a heap o’ young uns. These hyah three is the pick o’ the flock; an’ I sure has hopes o’ seein’ one of ’em right soon after Tom he starts ’em loose.”

“Well, you’ve interested me a heap,” declared Larry. “Why, it’s just like a story, you see. The good doctor comes, restores the sight to your sweet little sister’s eyes; and then the glorious news is flashed home by a dove of peace and good tidings. Of course it’ll be good news, Tony. Didn’t the dove bring that kind back to old Noah in the ark? I’m awful glad you just happened to hit our boat when you wanted some place to hide. Why, I wouldn’t have missed meeting you for a whole lot. Have you had anything to eat this morning, Tony?”

When he learned that their guest was really hungry, Larry immediately started to get something going. He drew out a little square black tin box; this, on being opened disclosed a brass contrivance which turned out to be a German Jewel kerosene gas stove. This was quickly started, and began a cheery song, as though inviting a kettle to accept of its genial warmth.

Evidently the swamp boy had never in all his life seen anything like this, to judge from the way he gazed. Nor had he ever scented coffee that had the aroma such as was soon filling the air about them; for he could not help sniffing eagerly every little while, to the secret amusement of Larry.

All this while the boat had been speeding down the narrow but deep stream. Phil could look after the wheel and the engine at the same time; though as a rule he depended on his chum to stand in the bow, and warn him of any floating log or snag, such as might play the mischief with the cedar sheathing of the modern motor boat.

When Larry announced that lunch was ready Phil slowed down, and presently came alongside the bank, at a place where a cable could be warped around a convenient tree. For, since they were in no particular hurry, they did not feel that it was necessary to keep on the move while eating.

Larry had heated up a mess of Boston baked beans. Besides this they had some soda biscuits which had been purchased from a woman in the town; some cheese; and a can of sardines; the whole to be topped off with a dish of prunes, cooked on the preceding evening, and only partly eaten.

When Tony received his share he ate ravenously. Perhaps the boy had seldom tasted such a fine variety of food, for the canned stuffs likely to reach these squatters of the big cypress swamps were apt to be of the cheapest variety.

They were sitting thus as the lunch drew near its conclusion when, in addressing his chum in some laughing way, Larry happened to mention his name in full.

The effect upon Tony was singular. He started as though he had been shot, and immediately stared at Phil; while a troubled look came over his sallow face; just as though he had recognized a name that was being held up to derision and execration down in the settlement of the McGee squatters!