Frank Merriwell Down South Part 43

"Those little rascals will scare away a golden heron, if we are fortunate enough to come upon one. Confound them!"

"Let me shoot a few of th' varmints," urged Barney, reaching for one of the guns in the bottom of the canoe.

"Not much!" returned Frank, quickly. "Think what the report of a gun would do here. Keep still, Barney."

"All roight!" muttered the Irish lad, reluctantly relinquis.h.i.+ng his hold on the gun. "Av ye soay kape still, kape still it is."

Frank instructed the professor to take in his paddle, and Barney was directed to hold the canoe close to the edge of the rushes. In this manner, with Frank kneeling in the prow, an arrow ready notched on the string, he could shoot with very little delay.

Beyond the heron rookery the waterway wound into the depths of a dark, forbidding region, where the Spanish moss hung thick, and the great trees leaned over the water.

They had glided past one side of the rookery and were near this dark opening when an exclamation of surprise came from Frank Merriwell's lips.

"Phat is it, me b'y?" asked Barney, quickly.

"A canoe."

"Phere?"

"See it yonder."

"Yes, Oi see it now. It's white."

"There must be other hunters near at hand," said the professor.

"The canoe is not drawn up to the bank," said Frank, in a puzzled way.

"It seems to be floating at some distance from the sh.o.r.e."

"Perhaps it is moored out there."

"Why should it be moored in such a place? There are no tides here, and alligators are not liable to steal canoes."

"Do ye see inny soign av a camp, Frankie?"

"Not a sign of a camp or a human being. This is rather strange."

A strange feeling of wonder that swiftly changed to awe was creeping over them. The canoe was snowy white, and lay perfectly motionless on the still surface of the water. It was in the dark shadow beneath the trees.

"Perhaps the owner of the canoe is lying in the bottom," suggested the professor.

"We'll see about that," said Frank, putting down the bow and arrow and taking up a paddle. "Head straight for her, Barney."

With the very first stroke in that direction a most astonis.h.i.+ng thing happened.

The white canoe seemed to swing slightly about, and then, with no visible occupant and no apparent motive power, it glided smoothly and gently toward the dark depths of the black forest!

"She's floating away from us!" cried the professor. "There must be a strong current there!"

"Nivver a bit is she floating!" gasped Barney Mulloy. "Will ye look at her go! Begobs! Oi fale me hair shtandin' on me head!"

"She is not floating!" Frank said. "See--she gains speed! Look at the ripple that spreads from her prow!"

"But--but," spluttered Professor Scotch, "what is making her move--what is propelling her?"

"That's a mystery!" came from Frank, "but it's a mystery I mean to solve! Get out your paddle, professor. Keep straight after that canoe, Barney. We'll run her down and look her over."

Then a strange race began, canoe against canoe, the one in the lead apparently empty, the one pursuing containing three persons who were using all their strength and skill to overtake the empty craft.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The white canoe had stopped, and was lying calmly on the inky surface of the shadowed water." (See page 147)]

CHAPTER XXVI.

STILL MORE MYSTERIOUS.

"Pull!" panted Frank.

"Pull!" mumbled the professor.

"Pull!" snorted Barney, in disgust, great drops of perspiration rolling down his face. "As if we wurn't pullin'!"

"We're not gaining."

"The white canoe keeps just so far ahead."

"Begobs! it's not our fault at all, at all."

Indeed, no matter how hard they worked, no matter how fast they made the canoe fly through the water, they could not gain on the mysterious white canoe. The distance between the two canoes seemed to remain just the same, and the one in advance slipped through the water without a sound, following the winding water course beneath the dark trees and going deeper and deeper into the heart of the swamp.

Other water courses were pa.s.sed, running away into unknown and unexplorable wilds. It grew darker and darker, and the feeling of awe and fear fell more heavily upon them.

At last, exhausted and discouraged, the professor stopped paddling, crying to his companions, in a husky voice:

"Stop, boys, stop! There is something supernatural about that fiendish boat! It is luring us to some frightful fate!"

"Nonsense, professor!" retorted Frank. "You are not superst.i.tious--you have said so at least a score of times."

"That's all right," returned Scotch, shaking his head. "I do not take any stock in rappings, table tippings, and that kind of stuff, but I will confess this is too much for me."

"Begobs! Oi don't wonder at thot," gurgled Barney Mulloy, wiping the great drops of perspiration from his forehead. "It's the divvil's own canoe, thot is sure!"

"Oh, it's simple enough!" declared Frank, nettled.

"Thin ixplain it fer me, me b'y--ixplain it."