Dick in the Everglades by A. W. Dimock (page 3)

Ned got his forked stick and, after a long struggle, in which Dick had to help with another stick, caught the otter’s neck in the fork and held the creature firmly to the ground. Then putting his left hand around its neck he held the head down in the mud, and with his right hand clutched the skin of the animal’s back.

“All right, Dick, take off the trap.”

“Trouble’s goin’ to begin. Here goes,” said Dick, and the trap was removed.

Like a flash of light, as Ned lifted the little beast, it thrust its head through the loose skin of the neck and turning backward bit Ned’s hand to the bone four times in something less than a second. The otter would have been free, but that Dick, who was looking for trouble, had it by the neck with both hands and in spite of its biting, scratching and struggling, it was dumped in the box and the door of its cage closed.

“Been having fun! Haven’t we?” said Dick, ruefully, as the boys, scratched, bitten and bleeding, stood looking at each other, after their victory. Ned’s hand was disabled and so painful that Dick paddled the canoe, with its cargo of boys and pet otter, to their camp.

“Now, Ned,” said Dick, “I’m the surgeon and you are to be respectful and call me Dr. Dick. Let me see your left hand first. I’ve got to decide whether to chop it off, or to try and save some of it.”

“You look as if you needed some fixing up yourself, Dick.”

“That will be all right. You shall have a chance at me–if you survive the operation.”

Dick got a bottle of carbolated vaseline from their stores, tore up one of Ned’s shirts and put the strips in boiling water. He then washed Ned’s wounds with warm water and soap and dressed and bandaged them. His own injuries were less serious than Ned’s, although more numerous, and although he spoke lightly of them, his companion insisted on their having as careful treatment as his own. When the bandaging was over, Dick said:

“We ought to have a yellow flag to fly over this hospital. I wish we had a medical book to tell us what we’ve probably got. The only things I’m sure of are blood poisoning and hydrophobia. Then there’s enlargement of the spleen. I’ve got all the symptoms of that.”

“Your only danger is from melancholia, Dick. But what are we to do with the otter? That box is too small for his comfort.”

“I’m not losing any sleep over his comfort. I thought I’d take him out of his cage every morning and lead him around the camp for exercise until you were ready to begin his education.”

“It does not seem quite as easy to tame him as it looked before we caught him.”

“Guess you mean before he caught us.”

“Shouldn’t wonder if I did. Couldn’t we build a cage of poles, with some of these big vines woven in basket fashion?”

“That would be all right. We could watch him day times and you could put him back in the box every night for safe keeping. I don’t think he’s an otter at all. He just fits the definition of a white elephant.”

On the day after his little difference of opinion with the otter, Ned’s left hand and wrist were so sore and stiff that he could neither hold his paddle nor his gun. Dick, too, was partially disabled by the soreness of his arms, but he managed to get about in the canoe and shoot ducks enough for their meals. They could not induce the otter to eat anything, although it seemed much less fearful of them. The leg which had been in the trap was broken and appeared to trouble the animal, but they could do nothing to help it. Dick did propose to take the otter out of the cage and offered to set its leg if Ned would hold the creature. On the second day their wounds continued to be so troublesome that the boys stayed in their hospital camp. As they sat that afternoon in the shade of a lime tree, drinking limeade, Dick, the philosopher, began to question Ned.

“Don’t you pity all these folks about here, Ned? Crackers, alligators, Indians, the whole ignorant lot of ’em. If they had got hurt as we did, they would have gone right on about their business. They’d never have found out that they were probably suffering from appendicitis and microbes and ought to go to a hospital and be carved up.”

At this moment the bow of an Indian canoe glided silently into the tiny cove in front of the camp. The boys recognized one of the two bronzed, bare-legged Seminoles that stood so erect in the canoe, as from Osceola’s camp. His response to Ned’s greeting was a question.

“_Whyome_ (whiskey), got him? Want him, _ojus_ (very much).”

Ned told them he had no _whyome_, but brought out coffee and sugar and invited them to make a brew for themselves. He also produced grits and venison. The Indians sat down to a feast which lasted as long as any food remained in sight. One of the Indians looked curiously at Ned’s bandages and smiled a little as he pointed to the box that held the pet otter. Ned nodded and asked the Indian, by signs, if he had ever been bitten by one of the creatures. The Indian held out his hand and showed the scar of a bite that must have nearly taken off his thumb. After the Indians had gone Dick looked ruefully over the diminished stores and exclaimed:

“There’s going to be a famine in this camp if those Injuns hit us again.”

The next day the boys were very much better and ready for work. Ned could not hold a paddle with his left hand, so they took a trip into the Everglades, where the water was so shoal that they used their paddles as poles and he could push with one hand. They left their stores in camp, for which afterwards they were glad, and pushed out several miles among the keys of the Glades, where Dick got a shot at a deer which was running from one key to another, but made a clean miss. They saw several alligators and in the afternoon chased one with the canoe. The boys could go faster than the ‘gator, but the reptile could turn more quickly. At last the canoe was right behind the quarry and within a few feet of it.

“Give it to her!” yelled Ned, as he seized his paddle in both hands and threw his weight upon it.

“Here goes!” shouted Dick, as he threw his weight on his paddle, which, unfortunately, slipped from the point of coral rock on which it first struck. Dick landed on his back in the water, capsizing the canoe as he fell. When the young canoemen had picked themselves up, righted the canoe, and found the rifle, it was too late to look for the missing alligator, and they plodded slowly home to camp. They found their captive much tamer. He drank a little water, although he refused to eat. His leg was badly swollen and they were anxious about him, and with good reason, for when they awoke in the morning he was dead.

Ned’s last, reckless thrust with his paddle had broken open his wounds and they became very painful. Dick dressed them again and warned him that he wasn’t to use his hand until he had Dr. Dick’s permission. They explored the creeks around their camp in the canoe, Dick doing most of the paddling, while Ned helped as well as he could, with his unhurt arm. The clear water of these little streams abounded with baby tarpon and other small fish, while often, in the deeper pools, turtles could be seen scurrying along the bottom. Dick had never told Ned of the turtle-catching that Johnny had taught him, so when he said, very casually, “Ned, I think I’ll go overboard and pick up that turtle for supper,” Ned replied:

“Don’t be an idiot. You couldn’t catch that thing in the water in a thousand years.”

“Just hold the canoe steady and watch me.” And Dick, resting his hands on the gunwales, threw himself overboard.

The splash frightened the turtle, which made off up the creek, but the boy was on his trail and, after a few futile grabs, had the reptile in his hand.

“Think that will do for supper, Ned, or shall I pick up a few more?” said Dick, as he put the turtle in the canoe.

“I’d like to know who taught you that, you rascal, playing roots on your poor old chum, who never had your chance to see the world.”

While they were waiting for Ned’s hand to get well, Dick got out the fly-rod and cast-net that came with his canoe and spent all his spare time trying to learn to throw the net. Johnny had given him a few lessons, until he thought he had learned to cast it. It was the kind of net which is used by the Florida Cracker, to the knowledge of which he is born, which he can cast when he leaves his cradle. The net was conical, six feet long with a ten-foot mouth, lined with leaden sinkers. The top of the net was closed, excepting for a small hole in which was fitted a small ring, through which puckering strings led from the mouth of the net to a 25-foot line, which was to be fastened to the fisherman’s wrist.

For casting, about half of the net is thrown over each wrist and one of the sinkers held between the teeth. The net is then swung behind the fisherman, thrown forward with a whirling motion, the sinker in his mouth released at exactly the right instant and the net falls in an almost perfect circle wherever, within thirty feet, the fisherman wishes. That is the way the net behaved when Johnny threw it. And when Johnny arranged the net on Dick’s arms, told him just what to do and watched him, Dick made some respectable throws, and thought he had learned the game; but now, away from his teacher, when he tried to cast it, net and leads went out in a solid mass that never could have caught anything, though it might have killed a fish by knocking it in the head. Dick, however, was bound to learn, and practiced by the hour, without seeming to make any progress, when suddenly the net began to go out in circles and his casts became creditable. He was so fearful of losing his new-found facility that he practiced for the rest of that day, and lay down at night with what he called the toothache in every muscle.

But from that day fish was on the bill of fare of the young explorers.

When Ned’s hand was well enough to be used a little, he began by fishing, sitting in the bow of the canoe, with the fly-rod, while Dick paddled. He caught several of the big-mouthed black bass, often called in the South fresh-water trout, and other small fish which they saved for the pan. Then the line was carried out with a rush by a fish that twice jumped one or two feet in the air.

“Got a tarpon, sure,” said Ned, who had never taken one, and he became most anxious lest the fish escape.

For nearly half an hour he carefully played the fish, which never jumped again. When the tired fish was ready to be landed Ned found that his prize, instead of a tarpon, was a ten-pound fish which he did not recognize, but which he afterwards learned was a ravaille.

“Well, it was mighty good fun, almost as exciting as if it had been a tarpon,” said Ned, who didn’t know how foolishly he was talking.

They were down the river bright and early the following morning but, for the first hour, failed to hook any of the fish that struck. Then the hook was snatched and instantly a silver, twisting body shot ten feet up in the air. As it fell back in the water, the reel began to buzz and Ned’s fingers were burned where the line touched them. Again and again the great fish leaped high in the air, while the line ran low on the reel.

“Paddle, Dick, paddle all you know,” shouted Ned.

But Dick was already doing his very best. The tarpon changed his course, came back a little, leaped once more and again started off. But Ned had got a good many yards of line back on his reel, and was getting hopeful of landing his first tarpon. He was beginning to lose line again, when the tarpon turned around and, swimming straight for the canoe, leaped against Ned with such fury that the craft was nearly capsized, and when Ned had recovered from the shock his line was nearly out and the fish headed for a little creek that was almost overgrown with trees and vines. The first jump of the tarpon as he entered the stream carried him up among the bushes that hung over the water, but fortunately the line did not catch in the branches and, as the fish swam slowly up the little channel, the canoe was close behind him. Ned held the point of his rod low, that it might not catch in the bushes, but his heart was up in his mouth every time the tarpon sprang in the air.

[Illustration: “THE TARPON LEAPED AGAINST NED WITH FURY”]

“It’s no use, Dick, we’ve got to lose him. He isn’t a bit tired and the tangle is getting worse. Then if he turns back I won’t have room for the rod and you can’t turn the canoe.”

“Never say die, Ned. If he gets away from you, I’ll go overboard and pick him up.”

“The creek’s opening out into a big river, Dick. We may land him yet.”

The tarpon stayed in the big river, swimming a mile or so and then turning back, while Ned put all the strain he dared on rod and line and, excepting when the tarpon made a rush, Dick held his paddle still and let the fish tow the canoe by the line.

“We’ve got all the scales we want,” said Dick, “and I move we don’t gaff another tarpon. When we have tired this one so it’s through jumping, let’s turn it loose. We don’t need it to eat and I hate to feed sharks with such a beautiful creature.”

“Sure!” said Ned. “And if it is as tired as I am it will give in pretty soon or die.”

The tarpon grew weaker, his leaps lower and soon the canoe was held close to him, while Ned even laid his hands on the tired fish.

“Think we can take him aboard, Dick?”

“I think you can swamp the canoe and break the rod, all right.”

“I don’t mind swamping the canoe and we can take care of the rod. If you’ll take the rod now, I’ll hang on to his jaw and take out the hook, which I can see in the corner of his mouth. Then, if you will look out for the rod and balance the canoe, I’ll slide that tarpon over the gunwale–“

“And we will all go overboard together,” added Dick.

“No, we won’t, but just as soon as we have fairly caught him and got him in the canoe, we’ll slide him overboard again.”

Dick took the rod, Ned removed the hook from the mouth of the tarpon and hoisted its head over the gunwale. The canoe canted over until water poured over its side, and the attempt would have failed but for the tarpon which, with a blow of its tail, threw itself up in the air and fell on top of Ned, who had tumbled into the bottom of the canoe. The sight of Ned hugging the big fish, which was spanking his legs with its tail, was too much for Dick, who sat down on the gunwale of the canoe in a spasm of mirth, and of course the craft was capsized. Ned clung to the fish for a few seconds until his captive had bumped him with its head and slapped him with its tail a few times, when he was glad to let it go. He then joined Dick, who was holding the rod with one hand and clinging to the canoe with the other, as he swam to the bank.

On the way back to camp Dick had several fits of laughter that made him stop paddling for a minute at a time and caused Ned to say:

“It’s all right to laugh now, but that was my tarpon. I had him safe in the canoe and if you hadn’t tipped us all into the river I’d have hung on to him.”

“I’m awful sorry, Ned, but if only you could have seen yourself, you’d have had to laugh or bust. Besides, you had your fun. You caught your tarpon and you wouldn’t have done any more if you had lain in the bottom of the canoe and let it spank you all night.”

CHAPTER XIII

EDUCATING AN ALLIGATOR

The boys wished to explore the Whitewater Bay country, and spent several days following to their sources streams that led in that direction, until satisfied that no stream connected the two regions. Returning to Tussock Bay, they crossed it and entered a branch of Shark River, which led to Little Whitewater Bay. As they neared the bay a loggerhead turtle rose near them and Dick wanted to hunt it.

“We need the meat,” said he. “We can smoke it and then it is as good as jerked venison.”

“We haven’t time to smoke it. We are in a salt-water country with only two or three days’ supply of fresh water. We may not find any more for a week. We’ve just got to keep moving. I wish we had a keg of water. If we were to spill what we’ve got in that canoe we would have to hike in a hurry, back to the Glades or some other place where we knew there was fresh water.”

On the eastern side of Little Whitewater Bay, the boys found a straight and narrow creek which led to Whitewater Bay. Paddling for six miles, east-southeast, across the bay, they were fortunate enough to strike the narrow mouth of what soon proved to be a broad river. They paddled long and late without Finding the fresh water they looked for, and camped on ground so wet that they had to cut branches to sleep on. As they kept on in the morning, the river they followed forked and they took the deeper branch. This in turn split in two and again they followed the deeper branch. Near the close of a day of hard work the stream they were following opened out on a beautiful park-like prairie, while beside the canoe was an ideal camping site fitted by Nature to that end.

It was a circular bit of high ground, surrounded by big trees whose spreading branches, draped in moss, shaded it on all sides, while an immense growth of wild grape-vine canopied it overhead. The water that flowed past the camp was pure and sweet, fresh from the Everglades. There was heavy timber about the camp and more than once during the night the boys heard the tread of a wild animal. Once it seemed to be the step of a deer in shallow water near the camp, then it was the soft footfall of some catlike animal and when Ned raised himself on his elbow to listen to a heavier tread, the “_wouf_” of the startled beast told that Bruin had caught the offensive scent of the white man’s camp. As the boys lay awake and talked while they watched the stars peeping through the canopy of vines above them, they heard the distant bellowing of a Bull alligator.

“Dick,” said Ned, “do you s’pose we could find that ‘gator? He must be fifteen feet long, from the noise he makes. I’d like mighty well to rope him. We could stake him out so he’d never, never get away and he would live for weeks if it took us that long to get him carried to Fort Myers. Dad would sure be delighted and pay all the bills like a major.”

“Don’t you think he’d throw in new rifles with silver plates and our names on ’em?”

“He sure would.”

“Well, we haven’t got the big alligator yet, but we’ll hunt for him to-morrow.”

Just as Dick spoke the distant report of a gun was heard.

“There goes your fifteen-foot alligator and both of our new rifles with silver plates and our names on them. Good-night.”

The boys started out across the meadow in the morning on the hunt for the big ‘gator. They carried a rope for the ‘gator and Ned took his rifle to be ready for the bear that spoke to them in the night. There was no more danger of their losing their camp, for Ned had made a chart every night, of their course during the day, until his memory had learned to map every scene his eyes looked upon. As they crossed a bit of wooded swamp, they heard the step of some heavy animal in a jungle near them, but they could get no sight of the creature and the slushy mud through which it had waded left no prints that inexperienced eyes could read. They found little ponds from which small ‘gators rose to their calls, but none of a size worth thinking of. They saw one big alligator sunning itself on a dry bank, and spent an hour in creeping near it only to find that it was not over ten feet long. As it grew late and they turned homeward, Dick said:

“Ever since that otter of yours died I’ve wanted a pet in camp. We need one for a watchdog. ‘Most any night we might be eaten up for want of one. Let’s take home a young alligator and I’ll train it. These ponds are full of ’em.”

“I don’t want you to go wading in any more ponds, Dick.”

“That’s all right. Don’t have to. There are ‘gator caves all round these ponds. You find one of ’em and I’ll do the rest.”

The boys hunted around several ponds till Ned found a hole in the bank of one, just under the surface of the water. Dick handed Ned a pole, which he had cut in the last bit of woods they had passed, and then made a noose on the end of the harpoon line which he carried. He arranged the noose around the hole in the bank and stood a little back of it holding the line in his hands.

“Now, Ned, just poke that pole down in the mud, all around, about fifteen feet back of this hole, and pretty soon you’ll punch something. Then, you’ll see fun.”

Ned poked around in the soft ground for awhile, then:

“Look out, Dick! Something is wiggling.”

“I’m all here. Let her come!”

Out came the reptile’s head from the cave, straight through the noose which tightened around the alligator’s neck, as Dick threw his weight back on the line. At first it tried to back into the cave, but the line held it. Then it plunged into the pond, but Dick soon yanked it out on the prairie. It scuttled over the prairie like a great lizard and when the boy jerked it back it ran toward him, but he side-stepped quickly out of reach of that open mouth. When the reptile became a little quiet, Dick dragged it to the pole which Ned had left sticking in the ground and walking twice around it had the alligator’s head fast to the pole. Then stepping quickly up to the creature he seized it by the head, holding its jaws firmly together with both hands.

[Illustration: “OUT CAME THE REPTILE’S HEAD FROM THE CAVE”]

“Now, Ned, if you’ll tie these jaws together, he’ll be gentle as a lamb and we’ll have a real pet that won’t get away like a manatee or die like an otter.”

“I’ll tie it, and bully for you, Dick, boy! You did that in great shape. I shouldn’t wonder if it made a pretty good pet, and I don’t care how big its mouth is, it couldn’t have a bigger bite than that otter of ours.”

The ‘gator was less than five feet long and quite babyish in its ways, but it gave Dick a lot of trouble as he was leading it toward their camp.

“Just boost him up on my back, Ned. He’s only a baby and wants to be toted.”

Ned found it a pretty vigorous baby when he tried to boost it and he got some spanks from its tail that made him think of his tarpon of a few days before. Finally Ned stood in front of his companion, and with his help the reptile was dragged up Dick’s back with its forepaws on his shoulder. Dick hung onto the paws, in spite of the sloshing about of his pet’s tail for about a quarter of a mile, when he dumped it on the ground and addressing it, said:

“There! You uneasy little cuss, you’ve got to walk. I don’t mind your wiggling your tail, but you tickle my ribs with your hind claws and you pound my head with your hard old jaws. Now come along straight, or instead of being toted you’ll get a lickin’.”

When they reached camp Dick staked the pet out with a line long enough to let it get into the river when it chose. He took the rope from its jaws, leaving them free, and the ‘gator never took advantage of it by trying to bite. At first the pet got very much excited when he was dragged out of the water and up on land, but after awhile he got used to it and seemed to almost enjoy it. Dick caught fish for his pet which always refused to eat them. Then Dick cut the fish in pieces and while Ned held the little ‘gator, stuffed them in its mouth and then held its jaws together till it swallowed its food.

“See the baby ‘gator sit up, Ned,” said Dick one day, after he had been training it for some time. “I’ll have him eating with a fork and drinking from a cup in a week.”

[Illustration: “SEE THE BABY ‘GATOR SIT UP, NED!”]

CHAPTER XIV

ENCOUNTER WITH OUTLAWS

One day, just after the boys had returned from an unsuccessful hunt for deer and Dick was at his usual occupation of training his pet, they heard the sound of oars, and a skiff, rowed by a man who looked like a product of the swamp, landed beside the camp.

“Kin you fellers let me have a little salt to save my hides? ‘Gators are pretty thick ‘nd my salt’s gi’n out.”

“We have only about a bushel of salt, but you can have half; yes, we can spare you three-quarters of it. We only use it for specimens and there’ll be enough left for us,” said Ned.

“That’s mighty kind o’ you, ‘nd I won’t fergit it, tho’ that won’t be any use t’ you, bein’s ye ain’t likely t’ see me ag’in.”

“Why not? You go to Myers, I suppose. We might meet you there and we’d be glad to see you.”

“Thar’s other folks ‘d be glad t’ see me thar, perticiler the sheriff. Ain’t you fellers skeered, now yer know yer talkin’ t’ an outlaw?”

“Not much,” laughed Ned. “If you are an outlaw you have probably had all the trouble you want.”

“You bet I hev.”

“Then you aren’t looking for any more. So what is there to scare us?”

“Not a blame thing. But you boys is plucky. There’s men ‘d fight shy o’ staying ’round here.”

“Well, it doesn’t worry us. We didn’t suppose there was any one around here, though, and we wondered who it was we heard shooting last night and we are glad to find out. Did you get any big alligators?”

“‘Twasn’t me shootin’. I didn’t shoot las’ night. Say! You’ve gotter look out! I know them fellers. One on ’em’s bad and you boys ain’t safe. I’m goin’ ter hang ’round, ‘n if you smell trouble jest fire two shots ‘nd trouble’ll cum a-humpin’ fur them fellers,”

“All right and much obliged, and if anything does come that we can’t manage we’ll remember you, sure.”

Whenever the boys passed a pond on the prairie they stopped and grunted till the young ‘gators came to the surface. One day Dick fired a shot near enough to splash one that had come up, but in ten minutes the reptile had forgotten his scare and again answered the call. Dick was disposed to wade in the pond and catch the little ‘gator, but Ned coaxed him out of the notion and proposed that they find a cave and rope another ‘gator to cheer up Dick’s pet, which he said was getting lonesome. This pleased Dick and the boys spent half a day finding an inhabited cave, when they secured its occupant with no trouble excepting that, as the alligator came out of his hole, Dick slipped on the muddy turf and was dragged into the pond. The ‘gator was soon brought out on the prairie and its jaws tied. It was larger than the one first captured, and Dick didn’t try to carry it on his back, but led and dragged it the entire distance.

As the boys approached their camp they saw a skiff, with two rough-looking men in it, just being pushed from the bank. Ned called to the men, but received no reply, and the skiff was rowed rapidly away.

“That spells trouble,” said Ned. “Those are the fellows that our outlaw warned us against.”

The boys found their stores in some confusion and a lot of them had disappeared, and with them had gone Ned’s rifle, which he had left in camp. Ned was quite too angry to speak and walked quickly to the canoe, followed by Dick.

“What are you going to do, Ned?”

“Going to get that rifle.”

“All right. I’m with you.”

“Dick, I’m going alone. It’s a fool’s errand and I don’t want you mixed up in it.”

“Maybe it is a fool’s errand, I guess it is, and that’s the very reason I’m going with you, Ned. You know I’m going, that I wouldn’t miss going with you for the world and you haven’t any right to ask me to be a sneak and crawl out of the trouble, for it is trouble and probably big trouble.”

“Why, Dick, boy, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, and I’m sure glad to have you with me, only you must let me manage when we find those fellows.”

“Of course you’ll run the thing and I won’t interfere, unless it becomes mighty necessary, which is quite some likely.”

As they got into the canoe Dick said:

“Don’t you want the shotgun?”

“No. Got better weapons than that.”

“Glad of it. You’ll need ’em.”

The boys paddled rapidly down the narrow river for several miles before they came up to the men they were seeking, who were then just getting out of the little skiff into a larger one which had a canvas cover and was evidently used as a camp.

Dick guided the canoe beside the larger boat and Ned spoke quietly to one of the men, who was scowling at him.

“You know what I have come for. I want my rifle.”

“What rifle? I don’t know anything about your rifle.”

“I mean the rifle you stole from our camp this afternoon. I want it and I’m going to have it.”

“See here,” said the man, who was purple with rage, as he picked up a rifle, “I’ll blow the top of your head off if you tell me I lie.”

“You lie,” said Ned calmly. “You are a liar, a thief and a coward. Now give me that rifle. I am not going to ask you for it many more times.”

“I won’t give it to you and I don’t know what keeps me from blowing your head off. I believe I will yet.”

“I can tell you why you don’t. Because you know there would be a hundred men on your trail who would never leave it while you were alive. Because you wouldn’t dare show your face to man, woman or child, white, black or red, in Lee County or anywhere else. Because your own partner would be the first to give you up.”

“He would, would he?”

“Yes, he would!” said the man referred to. “Don’t be a fool, but give the kid his gun, or I will.”

The rifle was handed to Ned and the boys paddled back to their camp. On the way Dick said:

“I was scared stiff, Ned, when that fellow took up his rifle and I saw how mad he was. Weren’t you a little bit frightened yourself?”

“Not then. I’m a good deal scared now to think of it.”

As the boys that night sat leaning against a log which they had made soft with masses of long gray moss, watching the dying out of the fire which had cooked their supper, another skiff touched at their bank, bringing the man to whom they had given the salt and also carrying the carcass of a fine buck.

“There, boys, better smoke what yer can’t eat by termorrer. I’ll show yer how.”

“We know how and we’re very much obliged. But we must pay for it, you know.”

“I can’t take a cent and it makes me feel bad t’ have yer talk about it. Have yer seen them fellers yit?”

“Oh, yes. They called on us and we returned the call. We didn’t happen to be at home when they called, though,” said Dick.

“They come here t’ your camp?”

“Yes. They certainly came.”

“‘nd you not here?”

“No.”

“What did they take?”

“Stole a rifle,” said Dick.

“I’ll git it back. Don’t yer worry, I’ll git it back and I’ll start now,” and the outlaw rose from the log on which he was sitting.

“Don’t go. We got the rifle back.”

“How did yer do it?”

Dick told the story of the recovery of the rifle. The outlaw sat for a minute looking down at the ashes of the fire, and then, speaking very slowly and with emphatic little nods between the words, said:

“And them’s th’ fellers I thought needed lookin’ arter.”

There was silence for some time and then Ned spoke in a voice that was low from suppressed feeling.

“My friend, I don’t know your name. I don’t know what you did. I don’t ask it. But I believe you are too good a man to be living the life of an outlaw. Now, can’t something be done to help you? If some men of influence worked for your pardon, couldn’t it be got?”

“Reckon not. It’s bin tried. I’ll tell yer jist how ’twas. I killed a man. He worried me ‘nd threatened me ‘nd tried ter kill me with a knife, ‘f I’d shot him then, nobody’d said nuthin’, but I waited ‘nd then I got scared, thot he’d kill me, ‘nd one day I shot him. I was put in th’ pen, then I was sent t’ the chain gang ‘nd set t’ boxin’ trees f’r turpentine. Saw a man flogged day I got thar. Sed I’d never git whipped if work would save me. I was the strongest man in the gang. Boxed more trees ‘n anybody. More I did, more I had t’. I don’t say I was whipped. If I was I didn’t deserve it. If I was ‘nd ever see th’ man that did it I’ll kill him. Know how turpentine gangs is guarded? Boy sits up on platform with rifle ‘nd gives orders. S’pose yer sassy to him or he just wants fun with yer. When Cap–that’s th’ man that whips–comes ‘long, boy sez feller’s bin shirkin’. Then feller’s tied t’ tree ‘nd Cap beats him till feller begs t’ be killed. I don’t want t’ hurt anybody ‘cept one feller, but I ain’t goin’ back t’ no chain gang. If the sheriff holds me up, ‘nd sez ‘Come back or I’ll shoot,’ I’ll say ‘Shoot!'”

The boys were very silent after the outlaw’s story and when he left them they shook hands warmly with him and asked what they could do for him; ammunition, food, clothing, money, anything they had was at his service.

“Don’t want nuthin’. You’ve give me more’n you’ll ever know,” said the outlaw gruffly.

But the gruffness was a bit tremulous and there were tears in the man’s voice.

The outlaw got in the way of spending his evenings with the young explorers and Ned pumped him dry of his knowledge of the Everglades, the Big Cypress and the lesser swamps of South Florida. He made charts from lines traced in the dirt to show rivers, bays, prairie land and swamps. Ned learned of hidden creeks that connected waters thought to be completely separated by land and of others that could be connected by a short carry.

CHAPTER XV

DICK AND THE BEAR

Dick wanted a bear and the outlaw showed him a near-by swamp where several of the creatures lived. Day after day Dick waded, wandered and watched in that swamp with the rifle, while Ned tramped in another direction carrying the shotgun, making maps of the country, and picking up occasionally a duck or Indian hen for dinner. Sometimes Dick got sight of a bear, but Bruin was shy and kept well out of range. One day, while sitting in some thick woods, hoping that a bear would wander near him, Dick heard a loud tearing sound that seemed to come from the top of a little group of young palmettos. He crept as slowly and silently as possible near the trees and saw a bear sitting in the top of a palmetto, tearing away the outer husk of the bud of the tree which is the cabbage of the Cracker and often serves as his bread. While Dick was creeping nearer to get a surer shot, Bruin tore out the bud and, with the cabbage in his mouth, dropped from the top of the tree to the ground, alighting on its fore shoulder. Dick didn’t know that this was the way bears in that country usually came down a tree when in a hurry, and supposed the bear had met with an accident and was killed. He changed his mind the next instant when the creature came racing toward him. Dick and the bear were about ten feet apart when they saw one another. The bear had to turn quickly to keep from running over Dick, and Dick had trouble to keep from punching the bear in the ribs with his rifle when he fired at it.

No one was hurt on this first round and the bear thought it had escaped and so did the boy. Dick churned a cartridge from the magazine to the barrel of his rifle and watched closely the undergrowth through which the bear was running, hoping for another shot. Just as the splashing in the marsh grew indistinct and Dick realized that his last chance had gone, he got one glimpse of the bear as it sprang upon a log that lay across its path. Dick threw his rifle to his shoulder with the quick motion of the sportsman who takes a woodcock on the wing, and fired. The bear, which was distant more than a hundred yards, disappeared and it seemed to the boy scarcely worth while to follow it. It was only the notion to look for the mark of his bullet on some tree near the log that induced him to wallow through the swamp to where he had last seen the bear. To his amazement he found a piece of bone and some fresh blood on the log. He had no thought now of abandoning the trail. He followed it through swamp and jungle, sometimes losing it where the ground was hard or where it crossed the path of an alligator. Often when he became fearful that he had lost the trail a smear of blood on root or leaf told him that he was on the track. From former hunts and the study of Ned’s maps, he knew the general lay of the land, but he stopped often and noted his course, for he meant to follow that trail and camp on it if necessary until he lost it finally or found the bear. The animal seemed to know all the bad stretches of marsh and thorny bits of jungle and, as the hours passed and night drew near, without his getting a sight of his quarry, he consoled himself with the thought of what Mr. Streeter had told him:

“A man is never lost in the swamp so long as he knows where he is himself.”

Dick knew he wouldn’t starve. There were always birds to be shot, alligators which he could kill with a club, and palmetto cabbage which he could dig out with his knife. He had his matches in a watertight box, a little bag of salt in his pocket, the swamp water was fresh, and what more could a hunter-boy ask for? He felt so cheerful that he began to whistle, which brought him bad luck, for he stumbled over a root which caught both feet and threw him head-down into a deep pool of mud. He was half strangled before he got out and was looking down shudderingly into the morass out of which he had crawled, when he missed his rifle and knew he had got to get back into the mudhole. It was so deep that he laid a branch across it to cling to, before venturing in. A big moccasin crawled from under a root beside the pool of mud as Dick stepped in it and the boy shut his teeth tight as he forced himself to wallow through the slimy, snaky mass from which his flesh recoiled.

He was waist-deep in that broth of mud when his feet found the rifle and he stooped down into it and groped around among roots that felt like living, squirming reptiles before he recovered the weapon. When he had scraped the most of the mud off of himself and out of the rifle it was too dark to follow the trail and Dick walked to a near-by thicket where he hoped to find better ground for a camp. He was peering into a dark recess in the thicket when a fierce growl within a few feet startled him terribly, but told him that he had found his bear–or another one. Dick was about to run, when a picture of Ned facing the outlaw formed itself in his mind and after that the bear couldn’t have kicked him out of its path. As the boy’s eyes became accustomed to the gloom he saw the bear lying within six feet, with jaws half open, and eyes fixed upon him. Dick believed the bear was dying, since he failed to spring upon him, but he thought a bullet would make things safer and he raised his rifle. He pointed the weapon at the animal’s head, but it was too dark to see the sight of the rifle, the brain of the creature was small, and Dick, remembering that a bear with a sore head is likely to be cross, dropped the muzzle of his weapon to the fore shoulder of the beast, and fired. The bear scarcely moved, but its eyes closed and Dick was prudently waiting before touching it, when he heard the distant report of a gun and knew that Ned was worried about him. He fired an answering shot and then, finding a bit of dry ground beside the body of the bear, decided to eat his supper the next morning and lay down to sleep with his head on his new bear robe.

At daylight he heard the report of Ned’s gun and fired his rifle in reply. The bear was so heavy that Dick had trouble in handling it and before he had finished skinning it the report of a gun within two hundred yards showed that Ned was out hunting for him and had taken the right course.

“Hope you didn’t worry about me,” was Dick’s greeting as the boys met.

“Nope, didn’t worry after you answered my shot, but I was mighty envious of you, for I knew you had got hold of something. I didn’t believe it was a bear. Were you scared, Dick?”

“Yes, I was, a heap, but I pulled through,” and Dick told his chum of the thought that braced him up.

Ned tried to speak roughly, but his voice trembled and he looked affectionately at his companion as he said:

“See here, Dick, boy, you can cut out all that outlaw talk. The gun business was all bluff and you know it as well as I.”

“You looked pretty white, Neddy, for a fellow who didn’t think he was taking any risk. But if you’ll tell me now, honest Injun, that you didn’t think there was any danger when you faced that convict and called him a liar, a thief and a coward, why I’ll never speak of it again. I noticed that your pet outlaw, who said the fellow was a murderer, three deep, didn’t seem to think that you had done anything so very amusing in giving that fellow the lie and all the rest of it.”

“I see you are round-skinning your bear for mounting. I’m glad of that. Some day I’ll see it in your house and we’ll be talking about last night.”

“That skin is for you. I want you to have it stuffed and put where it can watch your alligator.”

“I’m not going to take all the trophies of this trip. You can bet your life on that.”

“Don’t get slangy, Neddy. You aren’t used to it and it isn’t becoming. Besides, we may never get these little souvenirs out of the wilderness.”

By which remark Dick proved himself to be a prophet.

The trail of the bear had been roundabout and had brought Dick within less than a mile of the camp. The buzzards were gathering and Dick remained to guard the meat while he finished removing the skin and cleaning the skull. Ned made two trips with good loads and then, taking all they could carry, the boys returned to camp, leaving a big feast for the bird scavengers.

CHAPTER XVI

IN THE CROCODILE COUNTRY

One evening while Dick had one of his alligator pets sitting up on his tail, teaching him to sing, as he told his chum, Ned said:

“Crocodiles are a lot more interesting than alligators and the Florida crocodile is nearly extinct. All that are left are in a little strip of land near Madeira Hammock, which is only a mile or two wide and eight or ten long. Let’s go down to Madeira Hammock and catch some to look at. We can turn them loose after we are through with them.”

“Mr. Streeter says there is no way to get through to Florida Bay, where Madeira Hammock is, by water from Whitewater Bay.”

“Your outlaw says there is, only you have to tote your canoe some.”

“He isn’t my outlaw. I don’t sit up nights making maps with him, and anyhow we can’t tote the canoe through a mangrove swamp, and that’s what we’re up against if we go that way.”

“But our outlaw–the outlaw, if you like–says we can find little creeks up toward the Glades that will take us almost through.”

“All right. We’ll start in the morning. I wish we’d cured about a ton or two less of that meat. We’ll have to make a lot of trips across the carries. You don’t see any way to take my alligators along, do you?”

Two days were spent in following creeks that led to nothing and then one was found with a deeper channel which led them for miles, after which it broke up into several little waterways, which were almost without current and so shallow that the boys had to wade and drag their canoe. Their progress was slow, and they slept on a bed of brush which had lumps and knots to bruise every soft spot on their bodies. Their next trouble was a strip of mangrove swamp which a cat couldn’t have crawled through. After following along the mangroves for an hour they found a creek which entered it. As they followed this creek it grew wider and deepened. There was a slight current that flowed with them; the water was brackish, and they knew it led to the Bay of Florida and that the Madeira Hammock was near.

The mangrove gave place to a better growth, the soil became richer and vegetation more luxuriant. Soon they had to cut away vines and branches to clear the way for the canoe, but they counted their troubles over. They were paddling gaily ahead when they saw in front of them a branch that stretched across the creek about a foot above the water. They had met plenty of similar obstructions, but this was different. There was a big wasps’ nest on the branch and the air was filled with flying little pests. It was impossible to get around the nest and it was doubtful if there was another creek that would take them through.

“Let’s get some dry palmetto fans and make torches. Then we can burn and smoke the wasps out,” said Ned.

“Dunno as I want to wade up to that nest and set it afire. Ouch!” said Dick, who had sat down on what he thought was a stump, but had turned out to be an ants’ nest. “Holy smoke! Don’t these things bite? I don’t believe wasps are in it with them. Anyhow, I’m going to find out.”

Dick took the oar that was used to pole the canoe and wading straight toward the nest struck it a blow that most fortunately knocked it to the water, while a second blow sent it under the surface. A few of the outlying insects stung the boy and he had a dozen little lumps to show for a day or two, but he had captured the fort and drowned the garrison and the canoe passed in peace.

The creek emptied into a wide bay on the high bank of which the boys camped. It was part of the Madeira Hammock, the most beautiful native forest they had seen. At daylight a large crocodile was floating on the bay near the camp, but sank out of sight as the campers showed themselves. From the bay the canoeists entered a deep river with high banks on which were growing madeira, wild sapadillo, palms of several kinds and other varieties of trees. In the sides of the high banks at the water line the boys saw holes which they believed to be the caves of crocodiles. In the mouth of one the water was muddied and Dick cut a long pole which he poked into the hole. At first he felt something seize the pole, but could not afterward find the creature. He then took the pole on the bank and thrust it into the ground where he thought the reptile was most likely to be. When he had worked thirty feet back from the bank he felt something move and the next instant Ned, who had stayed in the canoe at the mouth of the cave, was nearly capsized by the rush of a great beast nearly the size of the canoe.

“Why didn’t you grab it, Ned? What is the use of my driving game to you, if you let it slip through your fingers?”

“Perhaps you think that was one of the alligator babies you’ve been nursing. You didn’t see the big head with the tusks running out of the top of it.”

“No, but I mean to see the next one. It’ll be your turn to do the punching while I rope the critter.”

“If you had got your rope on that one and held on, you’d be in his cave now, inside the owner’s tummy.”

The next crocodile was not far away and the hunters saw it crawl into its cave. Dick stood on the bank over the cave and arranged the noose on the end of the harpoon line around the mouth of the cave, while Ned paddled the canoe a few rods down the stream. Dick had the line fast to his wrist, but Ned wouldn’t punch it until it had been made fast to a chunk of wood instead.

“What difference does it make?” grumbled Dick. “If the chunk goes overboard I follow it. See?”

Ned hit the crocodile on his first poke and Dick had his hands full from the start. He would have been dragged into the river within a dozen seconds, but for Ned’s coming to his aid. The crocodile was as quick as the alligators had been slow.

“If he digs round as fast on land as he does in the water there’s goin’ to be a circus when we get him out on the bank,” said the panting Dick.

“And you wanted to be tied to his mammy by the wrist. This is only an infant. It isn’t nine feet long.”

But it was, and a foot over that, yet when they got the reptile on the bank and drew its head close to a sapling, they tied a piece of the line around its knobby head without any trouble. From that moment the crocodile was tame, and soon Dick was handling him fearlessly, although Ned warned him that if he didn’t keep out of the way of that tail he’d be knocked endways. But Dick sat on his back, pulled his tail and tried to lift him on his own back without the crocodile showing displeasure in any way.

“Ned, this thing is a peach. Why not send him to your father? He could be taken to New York in a baby carriage or led like a puppy dog. There would be no such trouble as there would be with a manatee. He’s a curiosity, too.”

“If it was the big one I believe it would be worth trying. That fellow must be as big as they come. I wish we had fixed for him.”

“It isn’t too late. Let’s lay for him to-morrow.”

The crocodile hunters camped beside their captive and Dick spent the afternoon trying to educate it. He talked of taking the string off of its jaws, but Ned stopped that.

“I’m afraid he might eat the wrong thing, by mistake, and then I’d have to go home alone. I suppose I could take the crocodile along in your place. Your mother might like him as a kind of souvenir.”

“But see how gentle he is and how mild his eye. He doesn’t whack around with his tail like an alligator and I think he likes to have me sit on his back.”

“That’s only his slyness. Look at him now.” For the crocodile, thinking itself unobserved, was crawling slowly toward the bank of the river. When it reached the end of its tether and could go no farther, it lay down and, lifting its head, looked all around as innocently as if it never dreamed of escaping, but had just moved a little way to get a better view of the scenery.

Every hour or two of the next day the boys called at the cave of the big crocodile, but never found him in.

“Well, we’ll go at it again to-morrow,” said Dick.

“We will be doing something else to-morrow. We’ve got to hike out of here, and keep moving, too. Last drop of water has just gone into the coffee pot,” and Ned turned the empty water can upside down.

“Hope you can find the creek that leads to the fresh-water country. I don’t believe I could. We came through too many twisty, narrow places. We sure don’t want to be three or four days finding it. I’m awful thirsty now.”

“You must stop thinking about it. I believe I won’t try for that creek. It’s a regular Chinese puzzle up among the mangroves, and I’m not a bit sure I could follow our trail back to fresh water. I’d rather take chances of that river that leads more to the east. I know it can’t go through to our bay, but it must lead up to the Everglade country where the mangroves won’t be so bad. We may have to do some toting, but we will be sure to find water by to-morrow night or the next day at the worst. But I won’t go that way unless you think best. It’s too serious a thing for me to decide alone.”

“Oh, I’m with you Ned. I might live till day after to-morrow without water, but I wouldn’t have a ghost of a chance beyond that, and we might be three days in your Chinese puzzle country. Wow! but I’m thirsty.”

“Say that again, Dick, and I’ll confiscate your coffee. I’m going to save half of it for breakfast, anyhow. So go slow. You’re on allowance now. We will have breakfast before daylight. I want to start as soon as we can see. It’s a lot cooler before sun-up.”

“I’ll wake easy. I’ll be so thirsty–Oh! excuse me, I forgot. But Ned, would you mind if I took my crocodile along in the canoe? He wouldn’t take up much room and I could sit on his back. I could lead him across any carry and I’ve grown quite fond of him.”

“You had better stop talking nonsense and get some sleep. You may need it.”

“Yes, I know. ‘Most anything may happen. You’d feel bad to think you had refused a poor boy’s dying request–and he your chum, too. Can’t I have my little pet crocodile?”

When the sun rose the young explorers had already paddled several miles and were in a labyrinth of little bays from which they followed channel after channel until each one shoaled down to a few inches in depth. Finally they found one that deepened as they advanced, although its banks came nearer together and the branches of big trees closed over it.

“This is all right. Fresh water soon,” said Dick joyfully.

But he was soon to be disappointed. For the little creek ended in a round shallow pond, a hundred yards across and entirely shut in by thick bushes. Dick became very blue and even Ned was discouraged.

“I hate to go back for miles and begin all over again, just when we are so far along in the right direction. We can get through these bushes and walk a mile or two, and perhaps climb a tree and see what the country looks like,” said Ned.

“I’d rather do anything than go back,” replied Dick. “Let’s paddle round the edge of this pond and see where the bushes are thinnest.”

They paddled along the shore of the little lake, finding the water so shallow that it barely floated the canoe, until just where the bushes seemed thickest it deepened to several feet, and parting the bushes disclosed a deep but very narrow creek through which the water slowly flowed. There was no room to paddle and for more than a mile the boys dragged the canoe by taking hold of overhanging branches. Sometimes they could lift branches that crossed the creek over the canoe as they passed. Sometimes they had to lie down in the canoe to get under the obstructions and often they had to stop to cut away limbs of small trees. They were finally stopped by the trunk of a large tree which had fallen across and completely blocked up the creek. Just beyond it two palmettos had fallen in the stream, one of which lay lengthwise in the channel. It would have taken days to remove the obstructions and the young explorers explored the swamp near them to find a possible carry. They found that a hundred feet behind them the woods were thinner and they could cut a path through which they could carry the canoe and stores.

“This is going to take all the rest of the day,” said Ned, “and it will be a dry camp after a heap of hot work. What do you say to leaving this till to-morrow, and putting in this afternoon hunting for the best route and looking for fresh water?”

“That’s me,” replied Dick. “Let’s hike in a hurry. Only don’t you lose your way. We have got to get back to the canoe and you’re the guide.”

“Don’t you worry about that. You may have to go slow, but I won’t lose myself and I will bring you back to the canoe,” said Ned.

Instead of following the creek, Ned bore off to the north where the woods seemed more open and soon reached a stretch of dry, open prairie. On the border of it stood a tall mastic tree with a lightning-blasted top and many branches which made it easy to climb. Ned was soon in the top of the tree making a mental map of the country round about.

“It is all right now,” said he as he climbed down. “I can see the open Everglades within four or five miles, and there is something that looks like a slough that is only half as far away. We’ll leave the creek in the morning and cut our path this way, instead of around those trees. It won’t be as much work, either. We can do some of that work to-night and camp right here. Then in the morning, at daylight, we will start out with the canoe on our shoulders and tramp till we find water to float it.”

“But how about water to drink? I need it worse than the canoe.”

“Where there’s water for the canoe, there will be water for you. It’s Everglade water from now on.”

“I wish it would begin this minute. There’s a little mud-hole that looks pretty wet. Do you think that might be fresh?”

“Only way to find out is to try it.” A minute later Dick called out.

“Come here, Ned, it’s muddy, but it’s fresh. Oh, isn’t it good!”

As Ned approached the pool Dick, who was lying on the prairie beside it, lifted his face from the water of which he had been drinking, and was turning to speak to his companion when the head of a great alligator, with wide open jaws, was thrust violently out of the pool, just touching the boy’s face. Dick fell back on the prairie and scrambled away from the pool. It was a minute before he spoke and then he said to Ned:

“Let’s get back to work. I don’t want another drink for a month. It makes me sick to think of it.”

The slough was farther away than Ned thought and the road to it lay through a marsh. Often they sank to the waist and wallowed for rods, carrying the canoe which seemed to weigh a ton, or dragging it beside them. Moccasins were plentiful, but the boys were too tired to be worried by them. They had to make two more trips to carry their cargo, and on the last one, as Dick was staggering under a load of smoked meat and a heavy, salted skin, he was heard to say:

“I wonder why I killed that bear. I will never kill another one.”

There was dry ground beside the slough, under some willow trees, and the explorers were glad to rest there for the night. A duck flew down by the willows as if seeking to camp with them and he succeeded, for they had him for supper.

CHAPTER XVII

AMONG THE SEMINOLES

The young explorers had found an uncharted route from the Bay of Florida to the Everglades and the work before them was now easy.

The water was deeper than was needed to float their canoe, and the grass too light to trouble them. They sheered off and avoided all bands of saw-grass unless they found trails across them. The Glades were dotted with little keys of bay, myrtle and cocoa plum. These were small and usually submerged. A few larger keys were covered with heavier timber, pine, oak, mastic, palmetto and other woods. In these, deer were plentiful and bear and panther sometimes found.

The boys went to several keys before they found one with dry land enough for a camp. It had been used for camping by the Seminoles for many years and was the only bit of land above the surface of the water for miles. On it were piles of turtle shells, while scattered about were bones of deer and alligator and skulls of bear and smaller animals. A cultivated papaw which some Indian had planted within a few years, stood twelve feet high and was filled with great melon-like papaws, each one of which weighed from five to ten pounds.

“Better than cantaloupe,” said Dick as he finished half of a big one as a preliminary to his supper, “but what’s this you are giving us for coffee?”

“Coffee’s out,” replied Ned. “The fellows that took the rifle cleaned out most of the coffee.”

“Why didn’t you make ’em give it back when you had ’em on the run?”

“Reckon I was glad to get out of it as easy as I did. Then I had said enough unkind things to them for one time.”

“Sorry you think you were unkind. Your feelings must be a good deal torn up. But you haven’t told me what I’m drinking. Tastes something like the sassafras tea I used to get dosed with when I was a kid. It’s pretty good, though.”

“It’s something like it. It’s made from the leaves of the sweet bay tree, which grows on all these islands and all over this country. Sweet-bay tea is all you’re going to get to drink, excepting water, from now on.”

“What is that fruit that looks like a big stubby pear on that curious-looking tree there?” inquired Dick.

“Custard apple.”

“Does it taste like custard?”

“Yes, if the custard has been mixed with turpentine.”

The explorers made little progress the following day. Bunches of thick saw-grass turned them back. They found shallow water where for long distances they had to paddle slowly to avoid little pillars of coral rock that came close to the surface and endangered their fragile canoe. Most of the afternoon was vainly spent in searching for a camping site. They found a key where the water was shoal and made a bed of poles and branches. Both of them chose to sleep on the bed they had made. Whether this was simply politeness or because both were afraid of rolling out of the canoe nobody else knows. The poles and branches sagged under their weight until both were wet. Then such a deluge of rain as is seldom seen outside of the tropics fell on them. They got out in the dark and tied their canvas sheet over the canoe. They didn’t need it for themselves. They were already as wet as they could be.

In the morning they dried themselves–so Dick said–by rolling into the water and sloshing around. They made a cold lunch of smoked bear, cold hominy, or grits as it is called in Florida, and water, choosing to wait for breakfast until they should find land enough for a fire. During the day they saw high trees to the eastward and made for them. Here they found a Seminole camp of several families.

As they landed from their canoe they saw several pickaninnies, for Seminole children are not called papooses like children in other tribes of Indians, watching them from behind trees and boats. The squaws whom they met were equally shy and kept their faces hidden. Ned spoke to several of them, but they gave no sign that they even heard him.

“They don’t like your looks,” said Dick. “Let me speak to the next one.”

The next one was a young girl and Dick was very confident, as he addressed her, with his very best smile. But he was turned down as badly as his chum, for the girl didn’t see him at all. At the camp they found one old Indian and several squaws. The Indian welcomed them with a grunt and the question,

“_Whyome_ (whiskey), you got um?”

“_Whyome holowaugus_ (bad), no got um,” replied Ned. The Indian grunted again and conversation ceased. Dick was sitting on the edge of the table which serves also as floor in a Seminole camp, when he heard a low growl just over his head. He looked up and saw, crouched on a shelf within four feet of him, a full-grown wild-cat, or bay lynx, which seemed disposed to spring at him. Dick tried to keep from showing how much he was scared, but he asked Ned to find out if the wild-cat would bite. To Ned’s question, the Indian nodded emphatically and replied,

“Um, um, _unca, ojus_ (yes, heap).” Dick moved away, but the creature fascinated him and he came back. Dick never could resist the temptation to play with wild animals and he put out his hand to the wild-cat, saying:

“If that Injun can tame that beast, I can.”

“That Injun understands you, just as well as I do. He only pretends he doesn’t so as to make us try to talk his confounded lingo.”

A half smile stole over the stolid face of the Indian, either on account of what Ned was saying or because Dick’s hand was slowly approaching the wild-cat. The paw of the lynx flashed out and back so quickly that it could scarcely be seen, but the blood began to flow from several deep, parallel cuts on the back of the boy’s hand. Dick still held out his hand, scarcely moving a muscle, while Ned called out:

“Come away, Dick, that beast’ll scratch out your eyes.”

“Wonder what it would do if I cuffed it?”

The Indian appeared to understand this, for he spoke sharply to the lynx, and going up to it patted its head and stroked its body lightly. He then motioned to Dick to do the same. To Dick’s great delight the wild-cat not only allowed him to stroke it, but even purred as well as a wild-cat can.

“Ned, I’ve got to have that cat. I’ve given up all my other pets because you didn’t want them in the canoe, or there wasn’t room. Now Tom will take care of himself and won’t need any toting. Shouldn’t wonder if he’d feed himself, too.”

“That’s what I’m most afraid of.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let him eat you. Ask old Stick-in-the-mud there what he wants for his beastie.”

Ned talked with the Indian and reported to Dick.

“He says he will sell for one otter skin like that one in the canoe.”

“How could he see that skin from here? Tell him it’s a whack. Only he must make Tom go with me if there is any trouble about it.”

“He says wild-cat go with you, you brave boy, not afraid of him. Says somebody get scared, he eat ’em up.”

“Ned, you old hypocrite, you made that up.”

“Honest Injun, I didn’t. I told it straight, just as I got it. That Indian likes you.”

“Why don’t he talk white man lingo to me, then, instead of his old gibberish that he can’t possibly understand himself? Ask the old snoozer what’s cooking in that pot. It smells bully and I’m hungry.”

Ned turned to the Indian and pointing to the steaming pot, said:

“_Nar-kee?_ (What is it?)”

“_Lock-a-wa._ (Turtle.)”

“_Esoka bonus che._ (I want some.)”

“_Humbuggus cha._ (Come eat.)”

The boys took turns with the big, wooden, family spoon and found the mess very good. There was another kettle of which the Indians ate freely into which Dick dipped his spoon. He made a wry face as he swallowed the portion he had scooped up and said to Ned:

“Tell your copper-faced friend that he had better give that swill back to the pigs he stole it from.”

“Be careful, Dick, he understands.”

“Then let him say so in a decent language and I’ll apologize for hurting his feelings, but I won’t say that stuff is fit to eat, not if I am tied to the stake.”

Dick spent one afternoon getting acquainted with the Indian children, in which he succeeded so well that when he came back to the camp streaming with water, the whole bunch, although they were quite as well soaked as he, followed him screaming with laughter, quite like white children.

“What is the trouble?” inquired Ned as soon as the youngsters gave him a chance to be heard.

“Only the usual thing. These Indians don’t know how to manage their roly-poly canoes and I’m afraid I’ll be drowned before I get ’em taught.”

Dick had found a big family canoe that looked as if it couldn’t capsize and had made signs to an Indian boy to go out in it with him. Before they were fairly afloat all the pickaninnies belonging to the camp had piled into the craft. From the smallest squab to the biggest boy, the Indian children danced about in the canoe without disturbing its equilibrium. The boy in the stern, standing on the extreme point of the craft, set his pole on the coral bottom and threw his weight back upon it until his whole body stood out almost parallel with the water behind the canoe. Dick stood on the tiny deck on the bow of the boat, but with every thrust of his pole the canoe wabbled till the pickaninnies balanced it. But Dick improved with practice and as he grew confident, threw his weight on the pole in true Seminole fashion. He would have pulled through with credit, but for the slipping of his pole on a point of coral rock, when he fell heavily in the water, capsizing the craft as he went overboard. At first the boy was alarmed for the safety of his cargo of children, but soon saw that they were as much at home in the water as on land and were quite capable of caring for themselves. After Ned had heard what had happened he called the attention of the squaws to the ducking of their babies without causing the faintest gleam of interest to cross their stolid faces.

After another day of eating with the Seminoles and sleeping on their tables, Dick announced that Tom and he were tired of Injuns and wanted to light out. The whole Indian family saw them off, even the squaws coming half way to the canoe from their camp. Dick carried Tom on his shoulder and the lynx stepped into the canoe as if it had always owned it and curled up on the canvas of the tent.

“Where do you want to go, Dick?”

“What’s the use of asking me? You have been talking Everglades and Big Cypress in a steady streak, for two days to that old Injun. You must have a map of his brain by this time.”

“We can go through the Everglades to Lake Okeechobee, out through the canal and down the Caloosahatchee, but the Everglades will be much the same as we have seen, only more and worse saw-grass and so harder work. If we go to the east we will pretty soon come out at the coast which we want to avoid. I think we had better strike across to the prairies and the border land between the Everglades and the Big Cypress Swamp. Bear, deer, panther and wild turkey are to be found in that country, and we won’t have to hurry so much to get through in the time we talked of for the trip. What do you say?”

“The woods for me, every time. Then I think it would be better for Tom’s health. I am afraid he would get melancholy if we kept him on the water too much. Let’s put in a big day’s work and get somewhere. I can stand sleeping in the water once in a while, but don’t like it as a regular thing.”

They put in their big day’s work without getting very far. They struck shoal water in the morning where little pillars of coral, rising almost to the surface, threatened to tear a hole in their canoe. When they got overboard and waded, the same sharp points of coral hurt their feet and bruised their shins. During the afternoon they held their course, as best they could, for a tall palmetto, which, lifting its head above a waste of water and grass, gave promise of land enough for a camp beneath it. They dragged the canoe through a narrow strand of saw-grass, but were turned westward by a heavier band of the same obstacle, and finally made their camp for the night on a bushy little submerged key, where Ned lay on top of the canoe and was kept from sleeping by the fear of rolling over into the water, and Dick lay on a bed of brush that soon settled into the water with him. At first Tom climbed a little tree, but didn’t seem pleased with his quarters. He looked at Dick’s bed for a moment and turned in for the night with Ned in the canoe. Good progress was made on the following day, for the boys were tired of trying to sleep on the water and meant to find land enough for a camp before another night. They found much open water, most of the grass was light and the few strands of saw-grass they encountered were easily avoided. They saw few keys and all of those were submerged. So again when night came there was no dry land for a camp and the bed of branches was built up in the shallow water. About midnight Ned, noticing that his companion was restless, said to him:

“Dick, can you sleep any more?”

“Sleep any more?” said the indignant Dick. “I haven’t slept any, yet.”

“Then let’s get out of this and paddle the rest of the night. It’s full moon, paddling isn’t half as hard as trying to sleep on that bed and we may get somewhere.”

“Good thing, and I move that we keep paddling till we get to those woods you talked about, if it takes a week. Tom votes with me. Motion carried.”

About the middle of the forenoon they saw a clump of palmettos on a key, for which they headed at once, where they found ground which had been often camped upon. Dick climbed a tree and could make out a forest near the horizon, in the west. A few more hours’ work would see them out of the Glades, but they chose to rest for the remainder of the day.

“There goes your pet. That’s the last of him,” said Ned, pointing to the lynx in the top of the tree, which Dick had climbed.

“He’ll come back all right. If he doesn’t I’ll go up and fetch him by the scruff of his neck.”

[Illustration: “THERE GOES YOUR PET. THAT’S THE LAST OF HIM”]

Dick was right, for when the wild-cat saw the stores broken into for dinner he came down for his portion of meat and then curled up for a nap on his canvas in the canoe. Tom tolerated Ned, but never permitted any familiarities from him, while Dick could handle him as he chose and the lynx only smiled, in his own fashion.

To reach the woods they were aiming for the boys left the Indian trail they were on and, after forcing their way through a strand of saw-grass, found themselves on a prairie, bounded on the west by a heavy growth of cypress, oak and other heavy timber, while the prairie itself was made beautiful by picturesque little groups of palmettos which were scattered through it.

CHAPTER XVIII

DICK’S WILDCAT AND OTHER WILD THINGS

The Everglades had been crossed and that great region of romance was no longer a mystery to our explorers, who found a dry, shaded site for their camp on the border of the swamp which they planned to explore and there fitted up for a long stay. They stretched their canvas, tent fashion, and gathered grass and moss for their beds. A round, deep pool of clear fresh water was just beside the camp, and after one rattlesnake and a few moccasins that claimed squatter’s title had been killed they felt that nothing was lacking. In the evening the distant gobbling of a turkey told the hunters what would be the first duty of the next day. When they started out on the hunt prepared to be gone for one or more days Dick was troubled for fear Tom might not understand his long absence and skip out. He had a long talk with the lynx and told Ned that he thought Tom would be good. Then he got out two days’ rations for the animal, which it ate up at once. There was more dry land in this swamp than in those farther south to which they had become accustomed, and traveling was better, or rather, less bad. Yet to persons with less experience than the young explorers it would have seemed to be as bad as it was possible for it to be. For half a day the boys tramped and waded in the swamp without finding the game they were looking for. They had found other birds, some of which they would have shot for their dinner had they not been afraid of frightening the wary turkeys, which they believed were not far from them. Alligators were plentiful, large and small, but the boys were not hunting for hides and Dick said that Tom was all the pet he cared to have charge of for the present. Early in the afternoon they sat down to rest under a big tree and were eating their lunch of smoked meat and cold hoe-cake when a turkey gobbler lit on a branch of the tree under which they were sitting. The turkey was in plain sight and less than twenty feet from them, but Dick’s shot-gun was resting against a tree fifteen feet from its owner, while Ned’s rifle lay on the ground five feet from his hand. Both kept as quiet as graven images, for they knew that at the motion of a hand the big bird would take flight. If Dick’s gun had been within five feet he would have jumped for it, trusting to be ready with it to cut down the turkey before it could get out of sight among the trees. But a run of fifteen feet made his chances too small and he waited to see what Ned would do. Ned’s rifle lay just out of his reach, and before he could lay his hand on it the bird would be on the wing and quite safe from anything he could do with a rifle. At last Ned began to push himself inch by inch toward the rifle, while Dick sat silent and breathless with excitement. Very slowly Ned progressed until his hand touched the rifle. Before he could move it the fraction of an inch, the turkey saw the trouble in store for him and was off. Ned grabbed the rifle and took a harmless snapshot at the bird, while Dick rushed for his gun and sent after the turkey, which was then a hundred yards distant, a shower of shot which could never have overtaken it.

“Next time I eat I’m going to feed myself with one hand and hold my gun in the other,” said Dick. “I think I’ll stay home to-morrow and keep camp. Tom will go hunting with you. He’s got sense and he always keeps his weapons handy.”

“Keeps ’em too handy for me. I don’t like the way he looks at me sometimes. He acts as if he wanted to feel of my ribs to see if I am fat enough for his purposes. I reckon I’m the one to keep camp. My rifle was right at my elbow, but I didn’t seem to know enough to use it. Dick! Look at that hole in that tree and all those insects around it. It’s a bee-tree. There’s a barrel of honey there that belongs to us!”

“Do you s’pose the bees know that it belongs to us, or will they make trouble for us?”

“Of course they’ll make trouble. You can’t rob a hive without being stung.”

“I’m going to keep camp to-morrow, just as I told you, and let Tom go with you. Wonder how he’d like to climb that tree.”

“We will chop down that tree to-morrow and likely get stung a lot, but you know, Dick, you wouldn’t stay away for a farm.”

“Better not try me. I wish I had a sheet-iron jacket and stove-pipe pants. Let’s go home. I want to see Tom and tell him about it. I’m afraid he’s lonesome.”

But Dick didn’t tell Tom anything, for when they got back to camp Tom had gone. Dick scarcely tasted his supper and his sleep was restless and troubled. He woke with a scream, from a terrible nightmare in which a wild beast had him by the throat and was crushing him to death under his tremendous weight. He was happy when he woke to find that his dream was true. For Tom had come home and showed his joy at the sight of Dick by leaping on the boy’s chest and licking his face and neck. Even Ned rejoiced that Tom had returned and stroked his back, which for once the lynx graciously permitted.

“You are glad that Tom has come back, aren’t you, Ned?” said Dick as he laid his face against the soft fur of the wild-cat whose purring sounded so like a low growl.

“Oh, yes. I’m glad. ‘Course I am. Only wish all of ’em would come back, the two alligators, the crocodile and the dead otter. Then we’d start a menagerie and I’d tell fearful stories of man-eaters while you went into their cages with a big whip in one hand and a small cannon in the other.”

When the boys started for the bee-tree they carried a bundle of dry palmetto fans, an axe, and a bucket for the honey.

“Shall we tote the guns?” asked Ned.

“What’s the use? Don’t either of us know how to use ’em. Better leave ’em with Tom.”

But the guns did not stay with Tom, or rather Tom did not stay with the guns, but quietly followed the boys as a pet dog might have done. He stepped daintily from root to root and walked along fallen logs and the branches of trees which he climbed, easily keeping up with the bee hunters, without muddying his paws, while they wallowed in mud which was usually knee-deep and occasionally a foot more. Before tackling the tree they built a fire some fifty yards away, which they made smoke by putting on rotten wood and wet moss. They intended to hide in this smoke if the bees attacked them while they were chopping down the tree. The palmetto leaves were to be kept until the tree had fallen and were then to be made into smoky torches, under cover of which the boys hoped to secure the honey. They took turns in slinging the axe and resting, yet the exercise and the bees together kept them pretty well warmed up. For, after a while the bees began to take notice of the knocking at their door and occasionally a few of them dropped down and stung the chopper and the looker on, quite impartially. The art of wood-chopping has to be learned before one is born. The children of back-woodsmen can sling an axe as soon as they can stand. Boys born as near New York City as Dick and Ned were, never can learn. They think when they go up in the Adirondacks and chew down some trees with an axe, that they are chopping wood, but their guides who lie around smoking their pipes while the sportsmen sweat over the task, know better and slyly wink at each other while they praise aloud the skill of their employers.

When the boys stopped work and went back to their smudge to give the bees a chance to rest, and to find out if mud really drew the poison out of the little lumps that covered them, the tree had been cut nearly half through. Any Nature-lover would have known that a beaver had been at work, while everyday folks would have suspected a saw-mill.

Dick missed Tom and at first was troubled, but finally discovered him sitting on a branch behind a tree around which he could look without making himself conspicuous.

“Shall we wait till to-morrow to finish the job?” asked Ned.

“Not much. By to-morrow my face will be so swollen that I can’t see and the rest of me so sore that I can’t move. Let’s make a big smudge at the foot of the tree. I’d rather be smothered by smoke than stung and poisoned to death by those little beasts.”

[Illustration: “A FEW OF THE HOMELESS BEES LIT ON THE COMB”]

The smudge worked and the bee hunters had no more trouble until the tree fell, when they got into the thickest of the smoke they had made. This did not save them altogether, for the bees were very numerous and very mad and a few dozen of them got far enough in the smoke to leave their marks on their enemies. When the insects had quieted down and were gathered in bunches on logs and stumps, looking stupidly at the wreck of their home, the boys made another smudge near the hole in the fallen tree which led to the home of the bees. They sounded the hollow tree and found it only a shell where the honey was stored and a little work with the hatchet laid open the storehouse of the insects. A few of the homeless bees lit on the comb they had made, other bees gathered on the cypress knees which abounded in the swamp and through which the great cypress trees breathed, but their spirit was gone and they made no attack on the destroyers of their home. Of the comb and honey which the boys found in the tree they were able to carry away less than half and they wondered if the bees would have the sense to save what was left or if some wandering bear would scoop it in for his supper.

As the young bee hunters started for camp laden with their spoils, Tom stepped softly out of a nearby thicket, licking his chops and apparently thinking of the delicate lunch of fat tree-rat he had just eaten.

“Dick,” said Ned, as they were lazily resting against a log, after a supper that was mostly dessert, having consisted of a little smoked bear and a lot of honey, “something has got to be done for the larder. We go for honey when we need meat. We let Indian hens which we can get, escape on the chance of turkeys which we can never bag. We are looking for deer that are miles away and overlooking ducks that are trying to fly into the pot.”

“I’m not overlooking much, Neddy, since that turkey biz. I’ve got my gun in my hand this minute and here’s a chance to use it.”

As Dick spoke he raised the gun to his shoulder and fired. A little black creature, thirty yards away in the grass, sprang into the air and fell to the ground. Both of the boys started for it, but Tom was ahead and looked back upon them, growling fiercely, with his fangs fixed in the throat of the dying creature. Dick tried to coax the lynx to give up the creature he had seized, but the animal was filled with the fierceness of his race and even Dick dared not touch him. The creature which the cat held in its claws was clearly a rabbit, little and jet black, unlike anything which either of the boys had ever seen before.

“I’ve heard of these little Everglade rabbits,” said Ned. “Tommy told me of a key in the Everglades where there were plenty of them. If we had time we might look it up.”

“How much time have you got, Neddy?”

“Another month will use up the time I said I would be gone. I left that word for Dad in Myers. Guess he’s there now and maybe my sister with him. He won’t worry a minute till the time I set is up, after that there’ll be trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“‘Most anything,” laughed Ned. “Might be a lot of nurses out looking for a lost baby.”

“He won’t be frightened about you if you’re not quite up to time, will he?”

“Not exactly frightened, but he will want to see me, and I’ll be glad enough to see him, and sis, too.”

“I knew you had a sister, but you never talked about her much.”

“She’s a nice child, alle samee. I think you’re going to like her. She’s a little your style of foolishness.”

“What’s that?”

“Oh, it isn’t very bad. But you haven’t had much to say about your own self, lately. You never told me exactly what took you around by Key West. Why didn’t you come straight to Fort Myers instead of taking the tiny little chance of finding me in the big Everglades?”

“Well, I’ll tell you. You see, mother knew how much I wanted to go with you on this hunt and she begged me to let her foot the bills. Of course I couldn’t stand for that, you know, and–“

“Oh, Of course not, you stuck-up little donkey,” interrupted Ned.

“So I started as a stowaway on the Key West steamer–“

“You cheeky little imp! Did they put you in command of the ship when they found you?”

“No, only put me in the fireroom, shoveling coal in the furnace.”

“But that’s not boy’s work. What business–“

“Hold on, Ned, wait till I get through. The captain was bully. So was everybody else. I went to him soon as we were outside Sandy Hook and asked for a job. I was independent about it. I believe I offered to swim ashore if he didn’t happen to have a job for me. He gave me an easy one, for a boy, but I struck and asked for a man’s work, and got it–in the fireroom. But I pulled through, Neddy, and made good, though once or twice I did have to call myself hard names and think how you’d have hung on, if you’d been in my place. Yes, everybody was good to me. One passenger wanted to pay for a first-class passage for me and I had hard work to beg off, and–but that’s all.”

“Dick, you mustn’t talk that way about me. You make me ashamed. I wouldn’t have stuck it out in that fireroom for one day. Now how about your time for the trip? Will a month suit you?”

“Yes, that’s all right. I wrote mother from Key West and told her the hunt would be a long one without any chance to mail a letter and that she was not to worry because there wasn’t a show of danger in the whole business. Of course mothers do worry a little when there isn’t any reason.”

“Yes, mothers do worry, foolishly. Pity yours couldn’t know how faithfully Tom looks after you. She’d be so relieved.”

On the day after cutting down the bee tree the boys were glad to stay quietly in camp. Ned’s neck and arms were badly swollen and Dick’s eyes could scarcely be seen. Both of them lay awake nearly all night, but it was uncertain whether this was due to the pain of the stings or the quantity of honey they had eaten.

Tom shed his fierceness soon after he had disposed of the rabbit and again became friendly to Dick, who, even while he petted him, explained that he could never quite trust him again.

Every evening turkeys could be heard in the swamp near the camp. Every morning they had departed. One morning Ned said to Dick:

“I’m turkey hungry and I’m tired of shilly-shallying. The way to get anything is to get it. Let us get a turkey. We’ll start out for it now and come back after we have got it, and not before.”

“All right, Neddy, we goes for it, we gits it and we comes back when we gits it and not afore.”

The boys started out with their usual equipment of weapons, salt, matches and axe. They crossed the swamp without finding the bird they sought and then, as they were hungry and tired, Dick shot a fat young ibis and broiled it for their dinner. After dinner they crossed the meadow to a narrow strip of woods, beyond which, on a wide stretch of prairie, they saw three bunches of turkeys. The bunch nearest them appeared to be a hen turkey with her family, each member of which was about as large as its mother. They were a long rifle-shot away, and a shot, if it missed, would send every turkey to cover for the day. The same thing would happen if either of them set foot on the prairie.

“Our best chance,” said Ned, “is to wait for them at the edge of the prairie. It’s getting late and pretty soon they’ll be looking for places to roost among these trees. They may come right here. Anyhow, by spreading out we will cover quite a stretch of woods. It may be too late for the rifle but the shotgun ought to do something.”

“That means that you’re tired of my society, Neddy. So I’ll go and hide myself on the edge of the prairie, a little further off than you can hit anything, in case of you mistaking me for a turkey.”

Soon after Dick had reached his station, the turkeys began to feed toward the woods. Two of the bunches went to the opposite side of the prairie. The hen turkey with her grown-up family fed slowly toward Dick’s hiding place, but, when just out of range, appeared to become suspicious and turned toward Ned. Slowly she walked, darting her quick-moving head in every direction as she searched trees and bushes for hidden enemies. The younger turkeys put much faith in the wariness of the old lady and stalked fearlessly behind her. Ned waited for a chance which he thought couldn’t be missed and, avoiding the mother turkey, shot down one of her brood. Instantly the flock was in the air, following its leader down along the edge of the forest. This brought them directly over Dick, who neatly cut down another member of the family. While Ned was dressing the turkeys and building the fire for the broiling of one of them, Dick was climbing a young cabbage palm and cutting the bud from its top.

“Couldn’t tell this palmetto cabbage from big fresh chestnuts, by the taste,” said Dick. “I’m going to roast that other turkey at the camp to-morrow with his whole inside crammed full of chestnut stuffing.”

While the turkey hunters were eating their breakfast of cold turkey a doe, followed by a fawn which was still in the spotted coat, walked out on the open prairie within fifty yards of them and gazed at them without a sign of fear.

“They know we wouldn’t shoot a doe or a fawn,” said Ned. “That’s what makes them feel so safe.”

“Wonder if they would have felt as safe last night, before we got those turkeys?”

On their return Tom, met the turkey hunters a quarter of a mile from their camp and they wondered whether he had heard them coming, or happened to be strolling that way. He looked so earnestly at the turkey which Dick was carrying that the boy said to him:

“See here, Tom, that’s my turkey and I won’t stand for your laying a paw on him. So you had better be good unless you are looking for a mix-up with me.” Tom looked cowed, but showed his friendly feelings by walking beside Dick, rubbing against his legs and purring in his half-growling fashion.

CHAPTER XIX

A PRAIRIE ON FIRE

“Dick,” said Ned as they rested against a log, having their regular after-dinner, heart-to heart talk, “we had better _hiepus_ (light out), if we mean to get to the coast and bring up at Myers on time, besides taking in all we want to on the way. We know the Harney’s River route like a book and we’ve been over the Indian trail to Lawson’s River, so we’ve got to find some new way out. There is a chain of salt-water lakes between the Everglades and the rivers of the west coast and we must get into them. I have made a pretty fair chart of the country and can tell how far across the swamps and prairies it is to almost any point, but how much of that distance is easy water and how much tough swamp or boggy prairie is what I don’t know, but what we have got to find out. We have explored the country right around here pretty well and now let’s put in a day working the canoe through the grass to the south, then leg it westward till we strike salt water.”

“That sounds well,” replied Dick, “and then, you know, if your charts don’t pan out straight, you can always ask Tom or me. Wonder if you half appreciate your privileges, having us along to take care of you.”

The young explorers “lit out” as proposed and, after a day of hard work and easy work, of open water and thick saw-grass and of clear channels and half dry meadows, camped beside a little slough on the border of a swamp, in the jungle of which it soon lost itself.

The first excitement of the new camp came in the night when Tom, who was sleeping, as usual, beside Dick, sprang up with a fierce cry, which they had never before heard from him, and dashed into the woods near the camp. There came from the woods the battle cries of warring animals, but soon all became quiet and the cat came back, but he growled at intervals throughout the night.

“What got into you, Tom?” said Dick to the lynx the next morning, after he had looked him over in vain for marks of a fight. “Was it jimjams, or only a bad nightmare?”

Tom listened gravely and looked as if he could have explained a good deal if only Dick had understood his language.

Tom followed the boys through the swamp on the morning of their first tramp, but when they struck a marshy meadow where the water was knee deep and the mud as much more, with no trees to make it pleasant for a poor cat, he looked reproachfully at Dick and turned back toward the camp. At the end of the meadow was a dense thicket which Ned entered first. He had only advanced a few steps when he turned back and held up his hand in warning to Dick. The thicket in which they stood was on the border of a big prairie of rich grass in which more than a dozen deer, nearly all bucks, could be seen feeding, with only their backs and antlers showing above the tall grass, excepting when some buck of a suspicious mind lifted his head high and gazed warily about him.

[Illustration: “ALL BEYOND THE DARK MEADOW WAS A LIVING MASS”]

“Isn’t it us for the big luck, Neddy?” whispered Dick. “When I ate that very last bit of turk this morning I wondered when I’d get another meal and Tom asked me in confidence if we meant to let him starve. And now, just look. There’s venison enough for the rest of the trip.”

“It don’t belong to us yet. You want to be mighty cautious. You can sneak up to that tree with the rifle and wait till that nearest buck shows up in good shape and then drop a bullet somewhere around his fore-shoulder. Don’t fire at his head unless you have to. The brain is a mighty small mark, and you’re not playing to the gallery down here.”

“Ned Barstow, what are you talking about? Take your own rifle and shoot your own buck. If you don’t I’ll let out a yell that will scare the whole bunch to Kingdom Come. I don’t run to you with my gun, whenever I find game, and ask you to shoot it. You mean well, Neddy boy, but sometimes you get mistaken. I’m afraid I didn’t begin this trip right. I ought to have given you a lickin’ every day, just to keep you in your place.”

Ned crawled out to the tree with his rifle and watched for his chance. The nearest buck was within easy range, but the grass hid his body and when the creature, scenting his enemy, threw his head high in the air Ned sent a bullet through his brain. As the boys were dragging the carcass to the woods where they proposed to skin and cut it in two for carrying to camp, Dick said to Ned:

“Do you know what hypocrite means?”

“I s’pose so, but what are you trying to get at?”

“Hypocrite means a fellow who tells his friend that the only way to shoot a buck is through the body, coz the head is too small to be hit, and then goes out himself and sends a bullet plumb through the center of the brain of the beast.”

“But Dick, I couldn’t see the shoulder.”

“Neither could I. You can’t sneak out that way.”

A strong wind from the northwest sprang up while the boys were finishing their supper of broiled buck’s liver and they built a wind-break to protect them while they slept. The wind became a gale, but they slept soundly, soothed by its roaring. They were rudely wakened by the crashing of some wild animal through the brush of