When we reached Cravens Hammock, I pointed out the island where the bandits were hiding.
“We can pull the boat up onto the clearin’ there,” I said. “Their lean-to is up that little hill behind those bushes.”
I felt important being the one giving the instructions, and Huck sat by my side like a deputy sheriff. I hoped with all my heart that his success in finding these bandits would make the real sheriff change his mind about making Huck go back up to Pierce County.
“All right,” Grandpa said, “we better be careful now. These two low-downs most likely got guns. We don’t want to git into a standoff with ’em.”
“The Lord is my shepherd,” Henry whispered as he began rocking back and forth.
Up until Grandpa mentioned the guns, Henry had seemed pretty calm, but now he was back to his usual praying self.
“Don’t matter if they has guns,” Uncle Owen said. “If they’re sleepin’ off their moonshine, they won’t be any match fer the two of us.”
“Jus’ take it easy, Owen,” Grandpa said. “We don’t want anything gittin’ outta hand here. Let’s be as peaceful as possible, ’specially when we got these young’uns with us.”
“I think Uncle Owen’s right. I don’t think we have to worry,” I said. “They was ’bout as drunk as could be when they stumbled up the hill. Plus, we got Henry prayin’ over there.”
I nodded to Henry, who sat in the back of the boat with his eyes closed, rocking the boat gently with his prayers.
As we got closer to the island, Huck started pacing nervously in the boat.
“What’s the matter with ’im,” Uncle Owen asked.
“He can smell the bandits and wants to pick up their trail again,” I explained. “Easy, boy,” I said, scratching Huck’s head.
“OK,” Grandpa said. “When we git up to the clearin’, you and Henry and Huck stay here in the boat. Owen and I will go up to the lean-to and try to catch those scoundrels off guard.”
The boat slid onto the clearing of the island, and Grandpa and Uncle Owen got out, each with their rifles and some rope slung over their shoulders. Huck wiggled and scratched and danced around. It was all I could do to keep him in the boat.
Henry just kept rocking and praying.
“Easy, boy,” I said. “Stay here.”
As I held on to Huck’s neck, I watched Grandpa and Uncle Owen cautiously make their way up the hill toward the lean-to. We still hadn’t heard a sound out of the bandits. Once Grandpa and Uncle Owen got up the hill and around the bushes, I couldn’t see them anymore.
I strained to hear sounds that might give me a clue about what was going on, and then it started. It sounded like it does when a coon gets loose in the chicken yard. Lots of flapping and fluttering, lots of screaming and squawking. Huck scratched his claws into the bottom of the boat like he wanted to dig his way to the deepest part of the swamp.
Then I saw them coming down the hill. Grandpa first, holding the arm of one of the bandits, and Uncle Owen next, dragging the second one by the suspender strap. Both bandits had their hands tied behind their backs. As soon as Huck saw them, he broke free from me and barreled up the hill straight at the bandits.
He jumped up in their faces and licked them, and he even knocked one of them down to the ground.
“He’s killin’ me! He’s killin’ me!” yelled the one on the ground, turning away from Huck’s tongue. He looked to be just about drowning in Huck’s drool.
“Git that animal away from me!” the other one screamed.
Huck roughed those guys up worse than any of us ever could. He wasn’t trying to hurt them—he was just being his usual friendly self—but those bandits didn’t know what hit them.
“Hallelujah!” Henry exclaimed once he opened his eyes and saw what was going on.
And Grandpa, Uncle Owen, Henry, and I laughed and laughed. It was the funniest thing we’d ever seen and the most satisfying too.