Chapter 4

Neither the rescue party nor the Aurora stayed by the river long after the rescue. Passepartout was ordered to retrieve the American agents, bringing them to the site of the League of Darkness's new home. Matt marked a map on the Aurora with the location of the plantation the League had taken over. It had once grown cotton, which was a staple crop in the south. The former owner had not survived the war. To Jason's knowledge, that plantation had been abandoned. "It's out in the middle of nowhere," he commented. "The only way to get in used to be the river; I never knew of a road to it."

"The League must have cleared it for their use," Phileas said. "But why not keep the river docks for cargo?"

"Could be the river changed banks," Mark offered. "The Trinity winds around, changes banks, creating new sand bars, depending on how the spring floods go. This entire area is sandy ground because of it. It takes a lot of work to keep a dock maintained. Some dredge every year to keep the river deep enough for canoes and skiffs."

"And that constant labor would no doubt attract attention," Rebecca said. "The League advertises its presence as little as possible. A land trail leading to the railroad would be better."

The six headed for the plantation that evening on horseback. Phileas intended to scout the area while they waited for the American agents to come up with a plan of attack. Near dawn, they stopped to give the horses and themselves a rest. Matt and Mark took the first watch as their rescuers slept. The soft leaf covered ground made a comfortable mattress under bedrolls. The chances of the deputy following them were slim, but there were other dangers.

Out of the dark of the forest, a loud scream woke everyone two hours into the rest period. Phileas came off the ground in one movement, ready for anything. He picked up his rifle and started for the forest to aid the distraught woman, followed quickly by Rebecca. Matt stopped them before they could get away from camp. "Don't do it." He called out. "You don't want to go in there."

"What of the woman?" Phileas asked.

"That was no woman; that was a panther." Matt answered. "They cry out like that, calling to each other. It fooled me once, too. I walked right under the tree it was sitting in. The cat must not have been hungry that night. Instead of attacking me, that big black ghost jumped out of its tree just ten feet from me and ran into the woods. I had the shakes for an hour."

"I wonder what it was saying," Rebecca said.

"Six for breakfast this way," Jason volunteered from his bedroll. His hat was pulled down over his face, showing only the end of his sharp nose and his mustache. "I couldn't tell if it meant the horses or us."

Jason rose, picked up his bedroll and ordered his nephews to go find breakfast while he started coffee.

The boys came back with a squirrel per person just as the coffee was ready. They expertly skinned and spit them in short order. While the meat cooked, Jason gave Rebecca a cup of coffee, leaving the others to serve themselves. He also put on a cook pot of water to warm when she commented on wanting to wash up.

Once the meat was done, everyone was offered a squirrel on a stick. Jules took to his enthusiastically. Phileas and Rebecca were hesitant. "You eat Sciurus carolinensis?" Phileas asked.

"No, these are Sciurus niger or Fox squirrel," Jason corrected with a devilish grin, giving it back to Phileas in kind. "Gray squirrels live on the East Coast. You can eat those too, but they are smaller, so it takes more than one to make a meal. Your friend seems to like them."

Phileas looked at Jules, who was indeed enjoying his breakfast. "Verne would," he said in a lower tone. "French after all."

Jules lowered and turned his head to conceal his amusement at the teasing. He continued with his breakfast, uncertain if he liked squirrels roasted, fried, or baked best. Hunger finally won out over culinary concerns. The English stripped off some meat and ate without another word. Surprised, they found the squirrel quite good. Rebecca added to the meal with rolls that Passepartout had packed for them.