“‘Deed an’ I will, right peart, suh.  You-all hev bin mighty good tuh me, an’ I ain’t gwine tuh forgit dat you sed as how I mightn’t be just as bad as dey paint me.  Git into de leetle boat, young mars, an’ I’ll paddle yuh home,” said the old negro, with alacrity.

“Hold on a minute, George!  I want to shoot you first,” observed Will.

“Gorry!  Will it hurt, marse?” asked the other, beginning to look worried as he saw the mysterious black box being aimed at him.

“Not one-tenth as bad as having a tooth pulled out,” laughed Will.  “In fact, you probably would never know it.  Please step back a little.  You see, I’m trying to get the shack in, too.  That’s part of the game.”

Will snapped the camera shutter.

“That’s all.  Didn’t feel it, did you, George?”

“Not so’s I kin notice, suh.  An’ will dat show me an’ de leetle shack w’en it’s done fixed?” asked the fugitive wonderingly, eyeing the camera with respect.

“Fine.  And if you leave me your address, or that of your married daughter up in Chattanooga, I promise to send you a copy later on, George.”

“Oh!  I’ll do dat, marse, ‘deed I will!  Nebber hed my pictur’ took yet.  My gal, she’ll be sure surprised tuh see dat!” exclaimed the negro, still grinning.

“Well, we had better go now.  Are you sure you can paddle me around to where the boat is tied up, George?”

“Easy as fallin’ off’n a log, suh.  Git dar in ’bout a hour er so.”  And George dipped deeply, with the air of one who was accustomed to the paddle.

Indeed, Will learned presently that he had a dugout canoe hidden near by, and in which he was accustomed to navigate the intricate channels of the great swamp.  He had lived out here some time, and knew the place thoroughly.

Will was sensible enough not to mention the fact that the sheriff and his posse, together with the two bloodhounds, had passed along that morning.  Had he done so, the negro might have taken the alarm, and declined to accompany him farther.

Things had turned out well, after all.  If he had a faculty for tumbling into a scrape, at least he was usually fortunate enough to get out again all right.

Before the hour was really up they came out of the swamp, and in sight of the tied-up motorboat.  At sight of the dinghy the three boys gave shouts of delight.

“Tell me about that, will you!” said Jerry, as he stared at Will, seated comfortably in the bow of the short little craft, while the old negro, crouching in a limited area farther aft, plied the spruce paddle.  “He comes back in style, with a guide to show him the way!”

“Better that than to stay in that gloomy place, eh, Frank?  Oh, I got lost, all right, but happened to find the shack of our good friend George, who rescued me.”

“Ain’t he the honest chap, though?  Ready to acknowledge the corn, no matter what the consequences,” declared Bluff.