this critter home with us tonight. If’n I could jest sink this gig deep enough betwix his eyes, we could let him flounce till he’s dead and then drag him in. He’s bound to be wuth enough to keep us in sugar and meal fer a month.”
“I’d druther do without no corn pone and drink my coffee straight than wrestle with that big devil. So’es you jest forget them ideas and let’s git out’n here.”
Jeff pulled the pole from the muck and started to back the skiff out, and Skeeter realized what he was doing. Skeeter was not willing to leave the prize without even a try, so when Jeff started backing the skiff away, he lifted the gig and let it fly with all the strength his body could give forth, straight at the red eyes of the bull alligator. The shaft sailed true and struck the alligator between the eyes with a sickening thud. When the gig struck, the ’gator bellowed with such force that it nearly knocked Skeeter from the bow of the skiff.
“I got him, Jeff, I got him,” cried Skeeter. “Pole up a little closer so’es I can see if’n he’s dead.”
Jeff poled up close to the burning eyes, and the ’gator did not move. The gig was planted solidly between its eyes. When he got a little closer, Skeeter signaled for him to stop and said, “He shore am dead, Jeff. I’ll grab hold of the gig shaft and you back off till we git him to floatin’. Then we’ll work him to the back, and you kin hold the shaft while I kin pole from up here. We kin drag him in home, and won’t Ma be proud when she sees this?”
Skeeter grabbed the shaft, while Jeff poled the skiff back into deeper water. Suddenly the entire swamp seemed to turn over and cry to heaven. The skiff went round and round with Skeeter holding his grip on the gig shaft. Jeff was thrown to the bottom of the skiff.
“Turn loose that thing, Skeeter,” cried Jeff, “‘fore that critter turns us over and kills the both of us!”
Before Skeeter could turn loose the shaft, he was slung through the air and thrown bodily into a group of cypress knees. The torch hit the water and went out in a sizzle of smoke. Skeeter was still holding to the shaft, and he felt himself being pulled through the murky slime at a fast rate of speed. Finally, from sheer exhaustion, he relaxed his grip from the shaft, and sank slowly into the muck.
Jeff was knocked dizzy for a moment, but raised slowly to his feet. “My God, Skeeter,” he cried. “Where are you?” No sound came from the darkness except the echo of his own voice. In a few moments he thought he heard a faint moan to his right. It sounded as if it was about twenty yards from the skiff.
“Skeeter,” he cried aloud, “kin you hear me?” Still no answer. Oh my Lord! he thought to himself, Skeeter’s done bin kilt.
But then a second moan came, and now he heard it clearly. He took the pole and edged the skiff in the direction of the sounds. The moans became louder, and he cried out again. This time Skeeter answered him in a low voice: “Jeff! Air that you? Is the frogs still in the skiff?”
“Dern fool,” said Jeff, “you askin’ ’bout them frogs and me worried sick that ’gator done kilt you. Where is you? You better git in here afore them snakes finish you fer sure.”
“Jest hold the skiff still and keep talkin’, and I’ll come to you,” said Skeeter.
“Well, if’n you don’t git here afore long, I’m shore goin’ to be shoutin’ so loud them folks in the hills will hear me.”
Jeff felt a pull at the side of the skiff and knew that Skeeter had reached him. “Wait jest a minute and let me git up there and help you in,” he said. “We don’t want to turn this thing over.”
Jeff crawled to the bow of the skiff and grabbed Skeeter by the arms. He slowly pulled him forward until he felt his body roll into the bottom of the skiff. Then he inched his way back to the rear. They sat in silence for a minute, trying to get their eyes accustomed to the darkness.
“Now ain’t you done got us in a hell uv a mess!” said Jeff. “How you think we is ever goin’ to get home without no light? And I done tole you to let that damned ’gator alone.”
“We kin git home,” said Skeeter, “if’n we kin jest holler loud enough to git Pa to hear us. Then he kin holler back and we kin go to his voice.”
“Yeah, and have them moccasins drappin’ all over our shoulders. I’ll swear, Skeeter, I shore ought to whop the stuffin’ out’n you if’n we ever git out’n this.”
Skeeter and Jeff stood up in the skiff and shouted as loud and as long as they could, but they received no answer.
“Hit’s only about nine o’clock,” said Skeeter. “If’n we jest sit still a few more minutes till the stars come out I kin shore git us home. I know one star that lies right over the house. I’ve laid awake plenty of nights and looked up and seed it. And onced when I were in the swamp a ’gator tole me that if’n I ever git lost at night jest to make fer that star, and I would shore git home again.”
“Well, I hope to the good Lord that this air one time when yore tales makes some sense,” said Jeff.
Jeff stuck his pole deep into the muck to keep the skiff from drifting, and they sat waiting for the stars to come out to show them the way home. Even after so much time had passed, their eyes still could not penetrate the dark of the swamp. They heard noises that they knew to be frogs and ’gators, and other noises that they had never heard before. Once they heard an awful scream that Jeff said was a panther, deep in the swamp. They could feel the flesh creeping along their bones as the swamp became more murky and mysterious. Finally the stars came out, and the moon broke through the seemingly impassable barrier of blackness.
“You see that big star at the end of the Big Dipper?” asked Skeeter. “Well, you jest count six stars to the left and four to the right in a straight line, and you’ll come to a star that air a whole lot brighter than the ones around hit, and hit seems to turn to red and blue and green all the time. You see it now, Jeff?”
“Yeah, I sees hit. So you sit down in the middle and I’ll start polin’ towards it. And for God’s sake, if’n I drap a snake off’n one of these vines on yore neck, don’t turn the skiff over.”
“You better be the one to worry about that,” said Skeeter. “I wished you would drap one of them critters in here so’es I could show you how to ketch him. Then you wouldn’t be afeered of him no more.”
Jeff poled the skiff steadily in the direction of the star that Skeeter had pointed out to him, and before long they came out at the head of the bayou. “From now on,” said Jeff, “I think I’d believe you if’n you tole me Ma was a wildcat. I shore am proud that you weren’t tellin’ no big tale this time.”
They glided down the bayou to the landing at the clearing, and Skeeter slipped into the kitchen to get a lighted stick to clean the frog legs by, while Jeff secured the boat and put up the pole and the one gig they had left. After they had cleaned the frogs, they pulled off their overalls and slipped into bed.
Pa stirred in his bed and asked: “Air that you boys comin’ in now?”
“Yeah, hits us, Pa,” said Jeff.
“Well, you boys ought not be galavantin’ around in the swamp havin’ a good time til this time of night. Hit worries yore ma and me to know you air frolickin’ round in them swamps.”
“Yeah, Pa,” said
