Animal Crackers

Mary heard a dull, muted 'glumpf,' the drowning farewell of poor Spot, as dog and reptile sank amidst an eruption of bubbles. A second gator quickly slid over the spot where they vanished but missed Mary by seconds and inches as she made shore and safety.

Mary dressed and found a spot to wait for the boat. At dusk, the trees silhouetted black against an apricot sky, tipped with bands of pearled lavender clouds.

No one lived at the landing, there was nothing there but an old freight shed and a feeble wharf built out in the water. This wharf was so low that the river weeds dominated it from end to end, and the planks, elevated a little above the vegetation, were the only visible evidence of the dock. Her surroundings were desolate.

Night was upon her and she realized that she was in an ugly position after she calculated how it was likely that her boat would not arrive before dawn. The moon was gone, now, and it was impossible to see more than a foot or two through the thick darkness.

With the night woods, swamp and river awakened to the din of animal sounds. Owls screeched and hooted; strange, frightening noises wafted from the forest; and the water around the wharf seemed alive with alligators. Mixed with their roars she heard the swish of their tails, and it seemed likely that some of them would leave the river for a meal.

Mary built a fire from wood she gathered, while keeping an eye out for the gators, and with the matches she found in Amos' jacket. In the flickering light of her fire she saw the wild eyes of a panther watching her from the darkness. There was little or nothing she could do now. She knew to remain still and mute when faced by a panther; screaming or other excitement guaranteed instant attack. In frozen horror she gazed at the vicious head and bared fangs of the beast as it emitted a low and ominous growl; she expected the cat to spring upon her and tear out her life, but the beast, a gentleman, met her gaze, snarled, then turned away and left.

Satan appeared again.

"Looks like I did okay without your help," she said smugly.

He cackled. "You're not out of the woods yet!"

As Mary started to sputter in protest, he dissipated once more, and she was alone in the wilderness. There would be no sleep tonight; Mary needed to stay vigilant to stay alive.

Around two o'clock in the morning the river steamer awoke her, tooting its whistle as it drifted up to the wharf. After the hands secured the boat, two men disembarked and loitered at the landing. One was Captain Fleming, the other was an armed guard. Mary saw neither man and came forward out of the dark to board the boat. Fleming saw her and fired his revolver point-blank.

Satan appeared and stopped the scene from unfolding. "Time is up, it's the moment of truth," he said to Mary, "life or death, choose now!"

Mary walked past Fleming, as if the pistol shot never happened, and came aboard, paying her fare to the mate. Fleming paid her no mind. The boat was headed down river to the Gulf and the small port there. The boat hauled freight and a few passengers and had no cabins; passengers took seats around the outside of the pilot house on the top deck, suffering the heat and cold and rain as it occurred.

As the night air chilled Mary she pulled her coat snugly about her and relaxed. A fire of pine chips burned atop the pilot-house, to light the way; the flames cast a lurid light among the trees that stood tall and gaunt on either side of the river. Mary saw the shadow cast by the boat's captain as he piloted them down river. She finally submitted to her deep weariness, falling into a dreamless sleep.

When she awoke, in the pale light of morning, she stretched her legs and felt at peace for the first time since her arrest.