Chapter 6: The Oasis

The five continued their flight all that day, seeing no enemies and hearing no further signal from them. But Henry knew intuitively that the warriors were still in pursuit. They would spread out in every direction, and some one among them would, in time, pick up the trail. After a while, they permitted their own gait to sink to an easy walk, but they did not veer from their northeastern course. Henry, all the time, was a keen observer of the country, and he noticed with pleasure the change that was occurring.

They were coming to a low sunken land, cut by many streams, nearly all sluggish and muddy. The season had been rainy, and there was an odor of dampness over all things. Great thickets of reeds and cane began to appear, and now and then they trod into deep banks of moss.

“Perhaps we’d better turn to the north and avoid it,” said Paul. “This marsh region seems to be extensive.”

Henry shook his head.

“We won’t avoid it,” he said. “On the contrary it’s just what we want. I’m thinking that we’re being watched over. You know the forest fire came in time to save us, then the falls appeared just when we needed ‘em, and now this huge marsh, extending miles and miles in every direction, cuts across our path, not as an enemy, but as a friend.”

“That is, we are to hide in it?”

“Where could we find a better refuge?”

“Then you lead the way, Henry,” said Shif’less Sol. “Ef you sink in it we’ll pull you out, purvidin’ you don’t go in it over your neck.”

Henry went ahead, his wary eye examining the ground which had already grown alarmingly soft save for those trained for such marchings. But he was able to pick out the firm places, though the earth would quickly close over their footsteps, as they passed, and, now and then, they walked on the upthrust roots of trees, their moccasins giving them a securer hold.

It was precarious and dangerous work, but they went deeper and deeper into the heart of the great swamp, through thickets of bushes, cane and reeds, the soil continually growing softer and the vegetation ranker and more gloomy. Often the canes and reeds were so dense that they had difficulty in seeing their leader, as he slipped on ahead. Sometimes snakes trailed a slimy length from their path, and, hardened foresters though they were, they shuddered. Occasionally an incautious foot sank to the knee and it was pulled out again with a choking sigh as the mud closed where it had been. Mosquitoes and many other buzzing and stinging insects assailed them, but they pressed on without hesitation.

They came to a great black pond on which marsh fowl were swimming, but Henry led around its miry edges, and they pressed on into the deeper depths of the vast swamp. He judged that they had now penetrated it a full two miles, but he had no intention of stopping. The four behind him knew without his telling for what he was looking. The swamp, partly a product of an extremely rainy season, must have bits of solid ground somewhere within its area, and, when they came to such a place, they would stop. Yet it would be all the better if they did not reach it for a long time, as the farther they were from the edge of the swamp the safer they could rest.

No island of firm earth appeared, and the traveling grew more difficult. Often they helped themselves along with vines that drooped from scrubby trees, swinging their bodies over places that would not bear their weight, but always, whether slow or fast, they made progress, penetrating farther and farther into the huge blind maze.

The sun was low when they stopped for a long rest, hoping they would reach refuge very soon.

“I don’t think the warriors kin ever find us in here,” said Long Jim, “but what’s troublin’ me is whether we’ll ever be able to git out ag’in.”

“Mebbe you wouldn’t be so anxious to show yourse’f, Jim Hart, on solid ground ef you could only see yourse’f ez I see you,” said Shif’less Sol. “You’re a sight, plastered over with black mud, an’ scratched with briers an’ bushes. Lookin’ at you, an’ sizin’ you up, I reckon that jest now you’re ‘bout the ugliest man in this hull round world.”

“Ef I ain’t, you are,” said Long Jim, grinning. “Fact is, thar ain’t a beauty among us. I don’t mind mud so much, but I don’t like it when it’s black an’ slimy. How fur do you reckon this flooded country goes, Henry?”

“Twenty miles, maybe, Jim, but the farther the better for us. Here’s an old fallen log which I think will hold our weight. Suppose we stop here and rest a little.”

They were glad enough to do so. When they sat down they heard the mournful sigh of a light wind through the black and marshy jungle, and the splash now and then of a muskrat in the water. Their refuge seemed dim and inexpressibly remote, as if it belonged to the wet and ferny world of dim antiquity. But every one of the five felt that they were safe, at least for the present, from pursuit.

“We might plough a trail a yard deep,” said Shif’less Sol, “but the mud would close over it ag’in in five minutes, an’ Red Eagle with five hundred o’ the best trailers in the hull Shawnee nation couldn’t foller us.”

“It’s strange and grim,” said Paul, “but, when you look at it a long time there’s a certain kind of forbidding beauty about it, and you’re bound to admit that it’s a friendly swamp, since it’s hiding us from ruthless pursuers.”

“Perhaps that’s why you find the beauty in it,” said Henry. “Come on, though. The Shawnees are not likely to reach us here, but we must find some snug place in which we can camp.”

“After all,” said Paul, “we’re like travelers in a great desert looking for an oasis.”

“We ain’t as hungry ez all that,” said Long Jim.

“You won’t get angry if I laugh, Jim, will you?” asked Paul.

“Don’t mind me. Go ahead an’ laugh all you want.”

“An oasis is not something to eat, Jim. It’s a green and watered place in an ocean of sand.”

“Seems to me that we waste time lookin’ fur a place that’s more watered than all these we’re crossin’. What I want is a dry place, a piece out uv that ocean uv sand you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

“The conditions are merely reversed. My illustration holds good.”

“What did you say, Paul? Them wuz mighty big words.”

“Never mind. You’ll find out in due time. Just you pray for an oasis in this swamp, because that is what we want, and we want it bad.”

“All right, Paul, I’m prayin’. I ain’t shore what I’m prayin’ fur, but I take your word fur it.”

Henry rose and led on again, anxious of heart. They were well hidden, it was true, in the great swamp, but they must find some place to lay their heads. It was impossible to rest in the black ooze that surrounded them, and if they did not reach firmer ground soon he did not know what they would do. The sun was already low, and, in the east, the shadows were gathering. Around them all things were clothed in gloom. Even that touch of forbidding beauty, of which Paul had spoken was gone and the whole swamp became dark and sinister.

Henry was compelled to walk with the utmost care, lest he become engulfed, and finally all of them cut lengths of cane with which they felt about in the mire before they advanced.

“Pray hard, Long Jim,” said Paul. “Pray hard for that oasis, because the night will soon be here, and if we don’t find our oasis we’ll have to stand in our tracks until day, and that’s a mighty hard thing to do.”

“I wuz never wishin’ an prayin’ harder in my life.”

“I think your prayer is answered,” interrupted Henry, who was thrusting here and there with his cane. “To the right the ground seems to be growing more solid. The mire is not more than a foot deep. I think I’ll venture in that direction. What do you say, boys?”

“Might ez well try it,” said Shif’less Sol. “It may be a last chance, but sometimes a last chance wins.”

Henry, feeling carefully with the long, stout cane, plunged into the slough. He was more anxious than he was willing to say, but at the same time he was hopeful. As the swamp was due, at least in large part, to the great rains, it must have firm ground somewhere, and he had noticed also in the thickening twilight that the bushes ahead seemed much larger than usual. A dozen steps and the mire was not more than six inches deep. Then with a subdued cry of triumph he seized the bushes, pulled himself among them, and stood not more than moccasin deep in the mud.

“It’s the best place we’ve come to yet,” he said. “I can’t see over the thicket, but I’m hoping that we’ll find beyond it some kind of a hill and dry ground.”

“I know we will,” said Long Jim, confidently. “It’s ‘cause I wished an’ prayed so hard. It’s a lucky thing, Paul, that you had me to do the wishin’ an’ prayin’, ‘stead o’ Shif’less Sol, ‘cause then we’d hev walked into black mire a thousan’ feet deep. Ef the prayers uv the sinners are answered a-tall, a-tall, they’re answered wrong.”

Shif’less Sol shook his head scornfully.

“Let’s go on, Henry,” he said, “afore Long Jim talks us plum’ to death, a thing I’d hate to hev happen to me, jest when we’re ‘bout to reach the promised land.”

Henry pushed his way through dense bushes and trailing vines, and he noticed with intense joy that all the time the earth was growing firmer. The others followed silently in his tracks. In five minutes he emerged from the thicket, and then he could not repress an exclamation of pleasure. They had come upon a low hill, an acre perhaps in extent, as firm as any soil and well grown with thick low oaks. Where the shade was not too deep the grass was rich, and the five, the others repeating Henry’s cry of joy, threw themselves upon it and luxuriated.

“It’s fine,” said Shif’less Sol, “to lay here an’ to feel that the earth under you ain’t quiverin’ like a heap o’ jelly. I turn from one side to the other an’ then back ag’in, an’ I don’t sink into no mud, a-tall, a-tall.”

“An’ this, Paul, is the o-sis that you wuz talkin’ ‘bout, an’ that I wished an’ prayed into the right place fur us?” said Long Jim.

“Oasis, Jim, not o-sis,” said Paul.

“Oasis or o-sis, it’s jest ez good to me by either name, an’ I think I’ll stick to o-sis, ‘cause it’s easier to say. But, Paul, did you ever see a finer piece uv land? Did you ever see finer, richer soil? Did you ever see more splendiferous grass or grander oaks?”

“I feel about it just as you do,” laughed Paul.

Henry lay still a full ten minutes, resting after their tremendous efforts in the swamp, then he rose, walked through their oasis and discovered that at the far edge a fine large brook was running, apparently and in some mysterious way, escaping at that point the contamination of the mud, although he could see that farther on it lost itself in the swamp. But its cool, sparkling waters were a heavenly sight, and, walking back, he announced his discovery to the others.

“All of you know what you can do,” he said.

“We do,” said Paul.

“First thought in my mind,” said Shif’less Sol.

“An’ we’ll do it,” said Long Jim.

“Now!” said Silent Tom.

They took off their clothing, scraped from it as much mud as they could, and took a long and luxurious bath in the brook. Then they came out on the bank and let themselves dry, the night which had now fully come, fortunately being warm. As they lay in the grass they felt a great content, and Long Jim gave it utterance.

“An o-sis is a fine thing,” he said. “I’m glad you invented ‘em, Paul, ‘cause I don’t know what we’d a-done without this un.”

Henry rose and began to dress. The others did likewise.

“I think we’d better eat the rest of Tom’s fish and then go to sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow morning we’ll have to hold a grand council, and consider the question of food, as I think we’re very likely to stay in here quite a while.”

“Are you really looking for a long stay?” asked Paul.

“Yes, because the Indians will be beating up the woods for us so thoroughly that it will be best for us not to move from our hiding place. It’s a fine swamp! A glorious swamp! And because it’s so big and black and miry it’s all the better for us. The only problem before us is to get food.”

“And we always get it somehow or other.”

They wrapped themselves in their blankets to keep off any chill that might come later in the night, lay down under the boughs of the dwarf oaks, and slept soundly until the next day, keeping no watch, because they were sure they needed none. Tom Ross himself never opened his eyes once until the sun rose. Then the problem of food, imminent and pressing, as the last of the fish was gone, presented itself.

“I think that branch is big enough to hold fish,” said Tom Ross, bringing forth his hook and line again, “an’ ef any are thar they’ll be purty tame, seein’ that the water wuz never fished afore. Anyway I’ll soon see.”

The others watched him anxiously, as he threw in his bait, and their delight was immense, when a half hour’s effort was rewarded with a half dozen perch, of fair size and obviously succulent.

“At any rate, we won’t starve,” said Henry, “though it would be hard to live on fish alone, and besides it’s not healthy.”

“But we’ll get something else,” said Paul.

“What else?”

“I don’t know, but I notice when we keep on looking we’re always sure to find.”

“You’re right, Paul. It’s a good thing to have faith, and I’ll have it, too. But we can eat fish for several meals yet, and then see what will happen.”

They devoted the morning to a thorough washing and cleaning of their clothing, which they dried in the sun, and they also made a further examination of the oasis. The swamp came up to its very edge on all three sides except that of the brook, and a little distance beyond the brook it was swamp again. It would have been hard to imagine a more secluded and secure retreat, and Henry dismissed from his mind the thought of immediate pursuit there by the Indians. Their present problems were those of food and shelter.