"Better go slow," remarked George. "You may get in a peck of trouble that way, if this fellow happens to be that Erastus we heard about, who burned the house up in Tunica county here, and is being hunted far and near. Dangerous business, Jack." "We don't know anything about it, only that there may be a poor chap nearly starved nearby. What do you say, Jimmie? I'd like to feel that I have backing enough," and Jack turned toward the Irish lad. "Pshaw! no use asking _him_," snorted George. "Jimmie would give away the coat on his back, or his last copper. Make it unanimous, then, if you want, Jack," for already the impetuous skipper of the _Wireless_ was growing sorry because of his stand. And so Jack did fasten the partly eaten loaf of bread to the tree in such a fashion that it could readily be seen should a hungry man come prowling around again during the night. Then they went to the boats and sought rest, Jack dividing the night into two hour watches, during which one of the boys would be on guard. But nothing came to pass that was out of the way during the period lasting up to the arrival of dawn. It did not even rain, for the clouds passed off, and the sun rose as if in for a good day. Jack upon arising walked to the tree. "Looks like it's gone!" called out Nick, who was poking his head out from the curtains of the boat tent. "Hope some wildcat didn't hook it, though." "No fear of that," laughed Jack, "for bobcats don't leave a polite note of thanks behind when they steal a supper. Look here what I found, stuck to the bark of the tree with a splinter of wood." He had a very much soiled scrap of paper, upon which someone had scrawled a few crooked lines. With considerable patience Jack finally read these words: "Neber burnd no hows. My cozin Peck he doned it suah. But dey hangs a culld mans fust down disaways an den tries him fo de crim. Is innersent, I swars hit. I gotter de bred. I et it, case I mity ni starve. But I's innersent. Rastus." "Well, what d'ye think of that?" shouted George, who had also appeared, fully dressed by now. "Better keep that letter of thanks, Jack. We'll have it framed, and hung in our clubhouse some day." The others soon appeared, and preparations went on for breakfast, the fire being revived for the occasion. Nick kept his eyes on the alert during the entire progress of the meal. Perhaps he was thinking of the poor, wretched fellow who was being hunted like a wild animal, and who knew not where his next meal might come from. They had just about finished, with considerable to spare in the frying pan, when Jack held up his hand suddenly, exclaiming: "Listen, fellows!" But the sound was so close by that every one of them had heard it as distinctly as Jack himself; for the baying of a pack of hounds had been carried on the wings of the early morning wind from a point just to the north. CHAPTER XVII. THE SHERIFF'S POSSE.