Things looked more cheerful by daylight, and when Johnny asked whether they should go on or turn back, Dick replied:

"Go on just as long as the creek runs." But the creek became choked with brush and turned back on its course, until Johnny said:

"If this crik gits any crookeder it'll fetch us back home."

The boys had to cut away two trees which had fallen across the creek where the growth was so thick that to cut a path around would have been more work than to clear away the logs. The trees were large, their axe a little one, and when the boys came to three trees lying near together across the stream Dick was so dismayed that he said to Johnny:

"Let's get back out of this creek. We must be on the wrong track, Mr. Streeter said Indians and hunters got through this country, but they never got through this way. What do you think?"

"Hate to go back, but s'pose we've got ter."

Dick's spirits ran low during the return trip through the creek. They were going in the wrong direction, and each hour was taking him farther away from where he supposed Ned was. Many times he wished they had kept on and fought their way through the creek. After reaching the bay they had left the day before they turned to the east and north as they followed labyrinthic channels that led around big and little keys in that part of the ten times Ten Thousand Islands. The work became confusing, the waterways they followed led them toward every point in the compass. Sometimes a narrowing stream made them think they had struck a creek which flowed from the mainland, but always it opened into some small bay filled with little keys. Late in the afternoon they found a point of land high enough for a camp, where they spent the night. After they had eaten their supper, Dick said:

"Johnny, do you know where we are?"

"Nope; bin goin' 'round so fast I've got dizzy."

"You mean we are lost?"

"Yep; but that's nothin' s' long's we don't stay lost."

"What shall we do, and where shall we go?"

"Go anywhere, only stick to it. Got ter do sumpthin; fresh water's 'most gone. Reckon we'd better go 'bout sou'west. We kin find a river that'll take us t' the coast, 'nd I kin find a way that'll take us where you wanter go."

An hour's paddling brought the boys to a bay in which were several pretty keys, on one of which Dick saw a number of beautiful white birds.

"What are those?" he asked.

"Egrets," said Johnny. "Want ter shoot 'em?"

"Of course not," replied Dick. "It's against the law, and wicked, besides. They are the loveliest birds there are and never ought to be killed just for fun."

"We never kill 'em for fun. Only tourists do that. If you Northern fellers didn't pay us ter git plumes we'd never kill 'em. D'ye remember that key over there?"

"No. What about it?"

"See that crik by the palmetter 'nd the big stump? Know it now?"

"What! Isn't that the creek we slept in night before last?"

"Sure! 'nd that's where we wanter go now. Them trees that we stopped fer was cut by our fellers to keep off the Lossman River plume hunters. We've got ter cut 'em out, er git 'round 'em if 't takes a week."

"How about water?"

"Find it t'other side o' the crik. I'd rather go without than go back t' anybody's house fer it."

"But that old shack where we killed the rattler isn't far off, and I saw a water-barrel under the caves."

"So did I, 'nd a possum floatin' in it, too. That's why I didn't fill up there. We'll go slow on what we got 'nd do without a day 'r two, 'nd we'll find some by then if we stick t' anything."

"We're going to stick to things hereafter, Johnny. It was plumb foolish to lay down just because a tree got in our way, and it was my fault, too. It isn't going to happen again, though. Let's get through that creek to-night, if we have to work by the light of the lantern."

"Ain't you 'fraid o' the snakes?" said Johnny.

"No. I'm too ashamed of myself for backing out of that creek to be afraid of anything, except doing it again."

When the boys got back to the trees which lay across the creek, they took turns with the little axe, which was not much heavier than a hatchet, until they had cleared an opening for the canoe. They found other trees in their way, but they kept on. Once they unloaded the canoe on stumps and logs until they could lift it over a log that lay so deep in the water that it was hard to cut. Five minutes later, and within a hundred yards of where they had turned back on the previous day, the boys reached the end of the creek, where it opened into a bay which seemed to Dick as beautiful as a dream. It was dotted with little islands, on some of which were picturesque groups of palmettos, and on others big trees filled with white-plumaged birds. Two black dots on the surface of the water a hundred yards from the canoe moved slowly across its bow. Johnny stopped paddling and said:

"There's a 'gator. D'ye want him?"

"I don't see him."

"See them two black knobs on the water? The little one's his nose 'nd the big one's his eye. He's turnin' 'round 'nd showin' both eyes, now. Shoot him in the eye if yer want t' kill him. It'll take some time t' skin him, though, 'nd mebbe ye're in a hurry to get along."

"I sure am," replied Dick, and as the paddles dipped together in the water, the alligator, suspicious of them, slowly sank from their sight.

At the end of the bay the boys found a deep, narrow river with a current which Dick supposed was tidal, but which Johnny thought came from the Glades. Dick tasted the water and was surprised to find that instead of being salt it had the sweetish taste of merely brackish water. There were birds of many kinds in the trees on the banks of the river, and as the boys paddled against the current Johnny saw a brace of ducks swimming ahead of the canoe. He took in his paddle and picked up the shotgun, which, with much forethought, he had placed beside himself in the canoe before starting out. Dick paddled very slowly and quietly toward the ducks until they were within easy range. Johnny had been told that if he wanted to be a real sportsman he must never fire at birds with a shotgun unless they were flying. So he waited until the ducks rose before firing at them. The next instant a bird fell heavily on the water a few yards ahead of the canoe.

"Why, that bird fell out of this tree!" said the astonished Dick. "I didn't know you fired up in a tree."

"I didn't," replied Johnny. "That was a water-turkey, and he isn't hurt a bit. They often act so when they're scared. Watch out for him under the bank."

In a minute or two Dick saw a long, snake-like head and neck thrust out of the water by the bank. The head twisted about with a quick, jerky motion till the bird's eyes rested on the canoe, when it disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.

"What became of the ducks?" said Dick.

"Reckon we'll find one of 'em 'round that p'int. The other got away." Johnny was right, and the duck was found just around the point.

At some places the river narrowed into deep creeks and at others broadened out into wide, shallow bays, where the boys were puzzled to find the inlet they wanted. It was nearly noon when they struck a stream of quite a different sort from anything they had previously seen. Its mouth lay between banks that were high for Florida, and through it flowed a stream of crystal-clear water, which, to the great relief and delight of the boys, was fresh as a mountain brook The bed of the stream looked like sand to Dick, but when he thumped it with his paddle he found it was coral rock. Suddenly Johnny called to him:

"Watch out fur the boat," and resting his hands on the sides of the craft leaped into the water without disturbing in the least the balance of the canoe.

As Johnny swam rapidly under water, close to the white coral bottom of the creek, Dick saw that he was chasing a turtle which was skurrying toward the bank for protection. It got there all right, but the bank didn't protect it, and soon Johnny came to the surface hugging to his breast with his left hand a wildly flapping turtle, while with his right he struck out for the canoe. Getting into the canoe would have been a ticklish job, so Johnny handed the turtle to his companion and swam to the bank while Dick followed with the canoe. By the time Johnny had butchered the turtle, Dick had constructed a very creditable camp-fire under a palmetto, in the shade of which the boys rested while they waited for the turtle stew to be ready for them. Their breakfast had been a cold one, consisting entirely of fruit, and they had decided that for dinner they would begin with turtle stew and end with broiled duck. When the stew had been finished, Johnny inquired:

"Want that duck cooked now?"

"No, I don't. If I ate another mouthful I'd bust. Let's have the duck next week."

Yet each of the boys managed to eat about a hatful of wild grapes, which they found growing a short distance from their camp-fire.

Just as the boys were starting out again, Dick saw a turtle, and, laying down his paddle, said:

"Johnny, if you can catch turtles, I can. See me go for that one."

"Hold on," shouted Johnny, as Dick was about to jump overboard. "That's an alligator turtle. Bites worse'n a bulldog, and ain't good fur much t' eat, nohow."

As they kept on up the creek, its banks came nearer together, trees were more numerous, and the bushes thicker. Soon these began to close overhead, while the stream itself broke up into several smaller ones. As these twisted about, forming a labyrinth of little channels bounded by hundreds of tiny keys, all cohered by an interlaced canopy of leaves and branches, Dick wondered if ever they could find their way out. But he had resolved that morning that never again would he turn back in his exploring so long as it was possible to go on. The little streams continued to become smaller and the turns shorter, until to get around the bends the axe was in constant use to clear a path, while the boys waded and often dragged or carried the canoe. It was wearing work, and they frequently sat down to rest. On one of these occasions Johnny inquired:

"How long you want ter keep this up? This ain't the right creek, not the one Mr. Streeter told about."

"I know that. The creek he spoke of must be away south of this, but this will probably take us to the Everglades, or near them. So we had better keep on till the brook gives out and then travel to the east, toting the canoe till we get to the Glades. We may be away north of Osceola's camp, but there will likely be a trail that will help us to find it, and anyhow we will be near the line that Mr. Streeter thinks Ned and the Indian will follow. Don't you like the plan?"

"Me? Sure! I don't want any better fun than t' keep on t' the Atlantic Ocean, only 'fraid it'd be too hard fer you."

Night found the toys in a narrow stream, scarcely more than the width of the canoe, with bushes around them so thick that they found it hard to clear a place big enough to sleep on. They were tired enough to sleep soundly, in spite of the occasional cries of the birds and beasts of the forest.

They made an early start in the morning, and, although the creek was crooked and they had to cut away many small trees, they were encouraged to find the bushes becoming less abundant as the water grew more shallow, and by dark they were on the border of an open prairie, where they made camp for the night.



CHAPTER VII

THE MEETING IN THE GLADES

"The Everglades at last!" said Dick the next morning as the rays of the rising sun fell on the waters of the Everglades in the distance and lit up the clumps of cypress and groups of palmettos that dotted the prairie before him. A little to the north and extending into the Glades was a row of willows which Johnny visited and found that it marked the course of a slough that crossed the prairie and extended far out into the Glades.



They were soon afloat in this slough, paddling toward the Everglades, but the channel which they followed was crooked and it was an hour before they reached them. The boys made their camp beside a little group of palmettos on a bit of dry ground which had often been used for that purpose. Johnny pointed to a faint line in the grass of the Glades and told Dick that it was an Indian trail. Dick was excited at the thought that the chum he had come so far to meet might even now be in sight. When, far to the north, he saw what Johnny said was an Indian canoe with two people poling it, he could scarcely restrain himself from paddling out to meet it. The canoe came on rapidly, and Dick's excitement increased until he began to fancy that in one of the faces that showed above the grass he could make out the features of his chum, when Johnny dashed his hopes to the ground by saying:

"Them's Injuns. Squaws, too. B'lieve I know 'em."

Then as the approaching faces showed more clearly through the tall grass:

"Sure thing. It's Miami Billy's girls. They'll savvy where Charley Tommy is."

The Indian girls were poling past the canoe without appearing to see it, when Johnny spoke to them. Then the girls, who were clothed in the brightest of prints, with masses of beads on their necks, sat down in their canoe and had a pow-wow with Johnny that was altogether unintelligible to Dick. When the girls had gone, Johnny explained:

"Squaws say: 'Think so Charley Tommy not been Osceola Camp, two moons. Been Big Cypress; hunt 'gator. Maybe so hunt with white man. Not been Charley Tiger camp this moon.' The girls left that camp day 'fore yesterday. Only other trail from Tiger's camp goes t' Miami. We c'n camp right here 'nd ketch 'em sure."

Johnny proposed that while waiting they do some alligator hunting. They got out their canvas and rigged up a regular camp. Dick wrote a few lines on a scrap of paper, addressed it "Mr. Edward Barstow," and fastened it on a palmetto tree, in such a way that no one passing along the trail could fail to see it. The boys then unpacked the canoe, and turning it upside down on a bit of dry land stowed their stores under it. They gathered a lot of grass for their beds, arranged for an early start in the morning, and slept dreamlessly till morning came. The hunt was to be on foot, and Johnny insisted that Dick carry the rifle, while he made up a light pack for himself of axe, frying-pan, forks and a little bacon, corn meal, bait and matches. When Dick saw Johnny's pack, he said to him:

"Won't we get back to-night?"

"Mebbe so, but you can't allers tell. We might get to follerin' sumthin and be gone two or three days. I don't reckon we're goin' to get lost, though we may be bothered some."

"If there's a chance of that we haven't got enough to eat."

"Got plenty. All we really want is a rifle, matches and salt. They'd be good for a month."

"What do you do for bread?"

"Cut the bud out of a cabbage tree."

The boys tramped across the prairie to a belt of cypress, where Johnny stopped for some minutes, looking back to study the landscape and take note of every clump of trees and bit of water in sight.

"I thought you were not afraid of getting lost," said Dick.

"I ain't afraid. I could alters git home all right, but I'd hate to lose the canoe."

The cypress strand was swampy, and they crossed it by stepping from root to root, excepting that once, when Dick was looking at a moccasin, he made a misstep and landed in the mud, where he sank to his waist. The woods were narrow, and beyond them was a broad prairie with clumps of trees and pools of water scattered through it. As they walked and waded they crossed the tracks of many animals and birds, to most of which Johnny could give names. There were plenty of 'coons, a few wildcats, some deer, and one bear, while between the little ponds alligators had worn regular paths.

"What's that?" said Dick as a lizard-like creature scuttled through the grass some fifty yards in front of him.

"'Gator! Shoot quick, 'fore he gits t' that pond!"

Dick fired, and his bullet spattered the mud over the reptile's back as it slid into the water.

Dick was very much chagrined at missing his quarry, but Johnny consoled him.

"I'll git ye another shot at him. I'll call him out o' the water, and if he don't come I'll take a stick an' go in there an' run him out."

Johnny stood beside the pond and grunted in imitation of a young alligator. In a few minutes two black dots appeared on the surface of the water, and, slowly rising, disclosed the eyes and the point of the nose of an alligator. Johnny grunted again, and the big mouth opened wide to take in the baby 'gator which the reptile thought he heard. Then the horny ridges of the back began to appear, and soon the whole body of the reptile lay on the surface. Johnny whispered to Dick:

"Shoot him in that hump behind his eyes." Dick took careful aim and fired. The alligator rolled slowly over, with its yellow belly on top and its four paws uplifted. Johnny waded into the pond and dragged out the body of the reptile, which Dick helped him skin. When this had been done Johnny cut from the creature a round strip of white flesh, about a foot long, beginning at the hind leg and running toward the tail.

"What's that for?" said Dick.

"Fur dinner. I told ye we'd find 'nuff t' eat."

"Do yon s'pose I'm going to eat that?"

"Sure! 'nd yer goin' ter like it."

"Then I wish I hadn't helped skin it."

Just as the boys were leaving the pond they heard a little grunt, and turning around saw a baby alligator, less than two feet long, lying on the surface.

"Want ter ketch that alive?" asked Johnny.

"Can you do it?"

"I'll show' yer."

And Johnny took off his shoes and waded into the pond. He waded about the pond, feeling in the mud with his toes until he felt the reptile, when, slipping his toes under it he lifted his foot suddenly and brought the alligator near enough to the surface to be able to seize him. Dick was delighted with the captive, but was frank enough to say:

"Johnny, I said once that I could learn to do anything that you could. I take that back. I couldn't learn to do what you did then in a thousand years."

Johnny laughed and said:

"You'd do it this afternoon, and I'll bet on it."

Johnny tied a string around the jaws of their little pet and handed it to Dick, who carried the wiggly thing so awkwardly that Johnny took it back and, opening the bosom of his shirt, put the alligator where he would have a soft bed and plenty of room to prowl around.

"That's another thing I'd be scared to do," said Dick.

Johnny led the way to a clump of palmettos beside a clear little spring and a nice shady bit of ground, where they made a camp-fire, after driving away a family of moccasins that seemed to own the place. A slice of alligator steak, nicely browned, was served on a palmetto fan to Dick, who nibbled squeamishly at the delicate morsel at first, but soon handed back his leafy plate for another helping.

"Wouldn't have believed it," said Dick, "but I never tasted any better meat."

"Wait till I cook ye a rattler. That beats fried chicken."

"No, thank you. I draw the line at snakes."

"You drawed it at 'gators this mornin'. Want some more?"

And Dick shamelessly passed up his plate.

The boys walked and waded several miles, until they were near a heavily wooded tract, which Johnny said was cypress swamp. It was late in the day, and they were about to turn back when Dick saw a turkey, which was holding her head half as high as his own, step silently into the cover of the woods, followed by half a dozen of her half-grown brood. Johnny saw the birds almost as soon as Dick, and exclaimed excitedly:

"We've got ter have one of them young turks if it takes all night."

They entered the swamp and got sight of one of the turkeys as he ran along a log, and they walked to where they saw the bird, only to get another glimpse at about the same distance. Again they followed the birds, this time as cautiously as if they had been stalking hostile Indians. Often they saw one or more of the turkeys, but never within easy range.

"Better try a long shot. They're gettin' wild," said Johnny.

"No, you try 'em, Johnny; you're used to the rifle and you're a better shot than I, anyhow."



Johnny took the weapon, and his chance came soon. One of the young birds lit on a stump within long range of him and remained there until he had taken a careful sight and fired. The bird fell, and the rest of the brood flew into the depths of the swamp. When the boys were ready to start back to camp, Dick discovered to his chagrin that he had no idea of the direction in which they should travel. Johnny, too, was in some doubt, and as it was already growing dark and they had been traveling in the swamp for an hour or two, he proposed that they camp right where they were.

"How can we camp here? Water's knee-deep, there's no place for a fire, and I'd starve to death before morning. Don't you expect to have anything to eat until to-morrow?"

"Bet yer I do! What's the matter with young turkey?"

"Young turkey's bully, but raw turkey's bum."

Johnny laughed and waded to where a fallen tree had left a level place among its upturned roots. A few minutes' work with the hatchet, which Johnny always carried when hunting, cleared out a good foundation for a fire.

"Bully for you! I'll dress the turkey while you build a fire," said Dick.

By the time the bird was ready for the frying-pan, Johnny had not only built the fire, but had cut a lot of poles and rigged up a rough cot between the fallen tree and a rotten log that lay near it. Johnny cut some thin slices of bacon for the frying-pan and then filled it with thick slices and chunks of turkey. When this had been cooked and disposed of, Dick still looked hungry, and another panful of the bird was fried. Dick slept some during the night, but complained that he had a map of his bunk on his back, which had been printed deeply. When breakfast was over and the last bone of the turkey had been picked, the boys turned their faces to the east and started for their camp. They soon reached an open glade, which was quite unfamiliar to them, and were about to enter it, when Johnny, who was ahead, slipped behind a tree and held up his hand warningly to Dick, who promptly got behind another. Two deer were in the opening, about a hundred yards to windward of the boys, toward whom they were slowly feeding. Dick was excited and was nervously raising his rifle, when Johnny whispered:

"Don't hurry. Got lots o' time."

Dick was ashamed of his nervousness, and determined to conquer it, even if he didn't fire at all. One of the deer was a buck with fine antlers, and Dick watched his slow advance, as he looked around for a moment and then browsed for a minute or two, until the boy felt that his nerves were steady once more. The buck was within fifty yards when Dick lifted the rifle to his shoulder and let his cheek rest upon its stock. In another instant the hunted deer had caught sight of the hunter, but it was too late. The beautiful creature stood motionless for half a minute, while Dick wondered if he could have missed, and then sank slowly to the ground, dead. At the report of the rifle the other deer, which was a doe, scampered a few yards, then, turning back her head, gazed with wondering eyes upon her fallen mate. Johnny took from his pocket a cartridge, and, holding it between thumb and finger, looked inquiringly at Dick. Dick shook his head, and in another instant the doe had scampered out of danger. Dick helped Johnny skin and dress the deer, and learned a lot while doing so, but he seemed less happy than a boy should be after killing his first deer.

"Johnny, I wish that buck hadn't looked at me out of his big eyes just when I was killing him. If I had waited a second I believe I wouldn't have fired."

"Glad ye didn't wait, then. Why didn't yer worry about th' 'gator? 'Gators has fine eyes."

When the boys started on again they counted their loads light, but after they had crossed the glade and waded and wallowed through a mile or two of swamp they were of a different opinion. When at last they had crossed the swamp and only a bit of prairie lay between them and the Everglades, they were glad enough to throw down their packs for a long rest. The Everglades were before them, but where was their camp? In that open country they could have seen it for three, perhaps four, miles. Johnny had studied the country around the camp when they left it the day before, but could see nothing familiar now. However, the boy wasn't worried.

"Reckon we're too fur north. Better go south a few miles, 'nd if we don't find it we'll turn 'round 'nd go t'other way. All we got ter do is t' stick t' the saw-grass," said he.

For a quarter of a mile the tramp was an easy one. Then the boys struck a hit of boggy ground, in which they sank over their knees at every step. When the ground became firmer the water got deeper, and after wading half a mile without a chance to lay down his pack and rest, Dick said:

"Johnny, I always heard that Florida deer were small, but this one must have weighed a ton. Wonder if your half is as heavy as mine. I've got to sit down on that hummock and rest."

Dick waded to the hummock and sat down on it, wondering what Johnny was laughing at. The next minute he understood, for the hummock gave a heave and Dick rolled off into the water, while a scared alligator scurried away through the water and mud of the prairie. The hummock was only a pile of loose grass such as alligators often collect and under which they live in the Everglades and the submerged prairies about them. Soon the boys found dryer ground, and after a brisk tramp of half an hour were cheered by the sight of their camp. There was no sign of life about it, to the great disappointment of Dick, who had been hoping that Ned had found it. Before reaching their camp they had to cross a slough that was wide and deep.

"Reckon we've got ter swim," said Johnny as he found a dry place on the bank for his pack and his rifle before wading into the stream. But the bottom was of coral and hard, the water reached only to his arm-pits, and the boys crossed without trouble, carrying their packs on their heads. Dick decided to wait for Ned at the camp, and Johnny collected wood and proceeded to smoke their venison. For two days they stayed by the camp, watching the trail and keeping the buzzards away from the venison by day and listening to the cries of the wild creatures in the woods near-by at night, when Dick's patience gave out.

"Johnny," said he on the morning of the third day, "we've got to find Ned Barstow. Do you s'pose if he knew that I was within fifty miles of him he'd loaf in camp for a week expecting me to run over him? Not much he wouldn't. He'd be sky-hootin' from daylight till dark over the whole country till he lit on me. Mr. Streeter said Charley Tommy couldn't get past Tiger Tail's camp under four days. Now, what's the matter with our meeting him there? Can't you follow the trail of those squaws bade to Tiger's camp?"

"I kin try. Mebbe 'tain't so easy's you think, though."

"What risk do we run in trying it?"

"Nothin', 'cept we may miss your man. We're all right 'nd could live anywhere in this country for a year on what we've got and could pick up."

"Then let's hike out. I can't keep still any longer."

The boys followed the trail by which the squaws had come without difficulty for a few miles. Then came a stretch of open water, where their eyes failed to catch the faint traces of the passing canoes among the few scattering blades of grass that appeared on the surface. Several times they picked up the trail after they had lost it, but at last they missed it for miles. They decided not to go back, and kept on, hoping to find it again. They kept in the light grass as much as they could, but in avoiding the strands of the heavy saw-grass of the Glades they were forced farther and farther to the east, until night found them in the open Everglades with no hope of a place to camp.

They made their way to a flooded key of sweet-bay, myrtle and cocoa plums, and Johnny piled up brush on which he tried to sleep, while Dick lay in the canoe, which had been lashed between two little trees. They were awakened by a deluge of rain, and in a few minutes there wasn't a dry rag between them. They used their canvas to protect guns, ammunition and such things as had to be kept dry. A cold wind chilled them to the bone, and they had to sit down in the water to get warm. It was a short-lived storm, and when the rain ceased and the stars came out Dick said to his companion:

"It's no use trying to sleep to-night; let's pull out for Tiger Tail's."

When morning came the boys saw, far to the northwest, an Indian camp which they knew must belong to Charley Tiger Tail. But between them and the camp was an almost impassable barrier of saw-grass. They paddled to the east, keeping on the southern border of the saw-grass strand, and whenever an opening appeared they followed it until turned back by grass too heavy for them to force their way through. They worked until noon and were out of sight of the Indian camp when they saw, a mile north of them, a couple of Indians poling their canoe. Johnny waved his hand to the Indians, who stopped poling and waited for the boys to get to them. He was soon pow-wowing with them, and translating to Dick as he talked.

"These Injuns, Charley Jumper and Cypress Tiger. This Miami trail. Goes Tiger Tail's camp, 'bout six mile. Hooray! Charley Tommy 'nd your man there. No, went away this mornin'. They say think so on Osceola trail. That's the trail the squaws was on, 'nd we lost it."

"Can't we cut across to that trail and head them off, or catch up with them?"

"I asked 'em. They say: 'No good, trail bad, trail to Charley Tiger good, then go Osceola trail. Maybe so Charley Tommy stop Osceola camp, maybe Miami Billy camp, maybe so not stop anywhere.' They say they sick ojus, want whyome. That means they're awful sick and want whisky, but all Injuns is that. These is good Injuns. Better do what they say."

The trail to the Indian's camp was a crooked one, but Johnny followed it without trouble, although it was nearly dark when they reached the camp. They slept on one of the high tables which the Seminoles use for their beds, and found Charley Tiger Tail quite a civilized Indian, who spoke a little English, sold whisky and dealt in the contraband plumes of the egret.

The boys were up and off at daylight, for they had agreed to do two days' work in every twenty-four hours till they caught the canoe they were chasing. Johnny had talked with Tiger about the Osceola trail, until he felt he could follow it blind-folded, and little time was lost in studying as they poled and paddled that day.

Soon after their start in the morning Dick had said, as he threw his weight on the paddle, which he was using as a pole:

"Are you game, Johnny, to camp to-night where we jerked the venison?"

"I kin stand it if you kin. Them squaws took two days, though, 'nd I ain't lookin' ter beat Injuns much with a canoe."

It is doubtful if the boys could have made the camp, for darkness came before they were in sight of it, had not Dick said:

"Johnny, isn't that a light over there toward the land? I've seen it two or three times. Do you s'pose it's a fire in the woods?"

"Don't see it," said Johnny. "Yes, I do, now," adding excitedly an instant later: "Don't you 'member th' big bend in th' trail jest after we left th' camp we're lookin' fer? That fire ain't in th' woods. It's at our old camp, 'nd Charley Tommy built that fire, sure as shootin'."

Dick was faint with excitement, and could scarcely hold his paddle.

"We must get there soon as we can," said he.

"Sure!" said Johnny. "Only let's go quiet 'nd s'prise 'em."

If Charley Tommy had been a white man the plan would probably have been successful. As the boys approached the camp they moved more and more slowly, until Dick laid down his paddle and Johnny did all the work. There was not a sound that Dick could hear, and when the canoe was within a hundred feet of the fire he could see Ned Barstow resting his elbow on a log near it, while the Indian lay beside a palmetto, apparently asleep. But as the canoe continued to approach, Charley Tommy lifted his head, took a swift look around, and, half rising, gazed keenly out over the water toward the boys in the canoe. Further concealment was impossible, and Dick called out:

"Hello, the camp!"

Ned sprang to his feet, and looking across the water in the direction from which the dream voice seemed to have come, was silent until he saw the shadowy outline of a canoe, when he spoke in a voice that trembled with emotion:

"Dicky boy, is that you?"

"Yes, Neddy!" And soon the reunited chums had grabbed and hugged one another till both were breathless. Then they began asking and answering questions, sometimes by turns and sometimes together, till they were breathless again.

"How did you come to recognize my voice so quickly?" asked Dick.

"Because I was thinking of you, Dick, and wondering when we could take the trips we planned in that camp in the North. Now those wonderful dreams have come true!"



CHAPTER VIII

OLD DREAMS REALIZED

There was a long council around the camp-fire that night, and it was settled that Ned and Dick were to take the light canoe with their own stores and start off by themselves on the hunting and exploring tour of which they had dreamed for years. Johnny was to go on an alligator hunt with Charley Tommy. Johnny thought the Indian could stand the work about two months, after which they would go to Chokoloskee and sell the hides. Ned paid the Indian for his time and made him a present, in addition, of an outfit of clothing from hat to shoes, without any objection from Charley. But when Dick came to settle with Johnny there was trouble. For Johnny refused to take any pay and said that if Dick paid him for coming to where Ned was he would have to pay Dick for carrying him to where Charley was. Ned had to chip in before Johnny could be persuaded to take the pay he had earned. Ned had a better equipment than Dick and a much larger lot of stores. These he shared with Johnny, so that the boy was provided with more luxuries than are often carried on an alligator hunt.

When the boys were about to start away in the morning, Johnny told them that Tommy wanted to go to Osceola's camp for a day or two, and he proposed that the boys come with them. Johnny said that if they went to the Indian camp with Tommy the Indians would talk and the boys could learn a lot of Seminole in two or three days, enough to pull them through in their visits to other camps. The chance was too good to be lost, and the long, heavy Indian canoe was followed down the Glades by the light Canadian canoe of the boys.

Ned and Dick were pretty husky youths, and as their canoe didn't weigh more than one-fourth that of the one just ahead of them, they thought they were in for a picnic. Very soon they changed their minds. Sometimes they could paddle, but generally they used their paddles as poles. They had one oar for pushing, which helped them a little. A light push sent the canoe forward, but when the push ended so did the motion. It took a stronger push to start the Seminole canoe, but the stroke was much longer, and when the stroke ended the motion continued. The boys were game and wouldn't admit that it tired them to keep up. But when a strand of heavy saw-grass had to be crossed they found trouble to burn. The round, heavy wooden cylinder of Seminole make slid slowly through the tall, stiff, saw-edged mass. But the light canoe was thrown back from each stroke by the elastic grass. Dick never liked to be beaten, so he went overboard and floundered along the trail ahead of the canoe, dragging it by the painter, while Ned got out and pushed from behind the stern. The sharp, serrated edges of the grass cut their faces and lacerated their hands. No air was stirring at the foot of those tall spears, and Dick thought of his hours in the fire room of the Southern steamer. Sometimes a big, deadly cotton-mouth, the ugliest snake in the world, swam in front of Dick as he struggled forward, but though his flesh quivered he said nothing lest he make Ned nervous. Then occasionally a poisonous brown moccasin rose out of the mud which the canoe stirred up, and, with uplifted head and open mouth, threatened Ned as he stumbled behind the craft, but he was silent about it lest he worry the chum who was new to the country. The saw-grass strand was only two hundred yards across, although it seemed a mile to the boys, who made light of it when they reached the other canoe, but their bleeding hands, torn by the terrible grass, told another story.

The canoes and cargoes arrived at Osceola's late in the afternoon, and Ned and Dick saw their second Seminole camp. It was the best camp in the Everglades, as Osceola himself was perhaps the best specimen of the Florida Seminole.

The three buildings which constituted the camp consisted merely of high roofs, beautifully constructed of palmetto, which came within four feet of the ground at their outer edges. Below this they were entirely open. These buildings were nearly filled with tables, about four feet high, on which the Indians slept at night and occupied as a floor during the day. The buildings were placed about a round shed, under which the cooking for the whole camp was done. The fire was built in the usual Seminole fashion. Logs of wood were arranged like the spokes of a wheel, and the fire built at the hub. When the cooking was finished the logs were drawn back a few inches and the fire went down to coals, but continued to smolder. When the logs were brought together again the fire blazed up.

Ned and Johnny made their bed on one of the tables and slept well, but they kicked at dipping their hands in the family stew, and broiled their venison and made their coffee over the common fire. It was a good-natured camp, but the boys made life a burden to the Indians for two days by their incessant attempts at conversation in the Indian tongue. Some of the old Indians were sociable, and the boys got along very well with them, but the younger ones were shy and refused to talk until, having put on the white man's clothes that Ned had given him, Tommy took several of the young squaws and pickaninnies out in an Indian canoe. The young Indians laughed so much at Tommy that they began to forget their shyness, and when Tommy bought for Ned a bright-colored Indian shirt that a squaw had just made and the boy put it on, the Indians gathered around him and made fun, very much as white children would have done. One of the squaws brought him a red handkerchief, such as many of the Indians wore, and when Ned nodded and tied it around his neck they all laughed. Another squaw motioned at Ned's hat, and then at several Indians who were bareheaded. Ned nodded again and tossed his hat aside. Then as a squaw pointed at his trousers and afterwards at the bare-legged Indians about him, Ned shook his head vigorously, and even the older Indians joined in the laughter.

The children of the camp were shy things, and peeped out at the strangers from behind trees and out of hiding-places, but Dick was fond of all wild creatures and few of them could resist his friendly advances. Soon every pickaninny in the place was tagging after him. The older ones took him out in canoes, which soon were capsized, and all hands swam back, each accusing the other of having upset the craft.

When the boys went to the Osceola camp of Seminoles with Tommy they found a people as stolid and taciturn as those of any Indian tribe of which they had read. After four days, during which all hospitality was extended to them, they left behind them a kindly group of untaught native Americans, who went out of their way to show friendliness to their guests. Johnny nearly cried over the parting, and would have bartered his hopes of the hereafter to have been allowed to accompany the boys, while Tommy, clothed again in his native costume and in his right mind, preceded them for two miles in his canoe to show them a blind, side trail which they were to take. When they turned to take their last look at him, the Seminole was standing in his canoe, leaning on his long pole and looking fixedly at them.



For a few miles the trail was easy, but then became too dry for paddles, and Dick pushed with an oar, while Ned used a pole which he had brought along for use with a harpoon. As the trail grew dryer, it became impossible to pole the canoe, and Ned took the painter and, stepping into the nearly dry ditch in front of the canoe, dragged the craft, while Billy got overboard and pushed from behind. Sometimes Ned stopped to kick something out of his path, and at last Dick called to him:

"What are you kicking, Ned?"

"Nothing but yellow-bellies and once in a while a brown moccasin. I used to worry myself half sick over them, but after seeing Chris Meyer wade through bunches of them in the Big Cypress without paying any attention to them, I got ashamed of being afraid, and now I don't mind moccasins much unless they are cotton-mouths."

"But they have all got fangs, are all poisonous, and all seem anxious to bite," said Dick.

"But their bite isn't fatal. Tommy told me that he had been bitten six times, and when I asked if the bites made him sick, he said: 'Lilly bit, one moon.' I asked him about rattlesnake bites, and he said: 'Make sick ojus (heap), think so big sleep come pretty quick.' He told me that the moccasins bit him while he was pushing his canoe and stepped on them."

"Neddy, Johnny used to talk just as you do, and Mr. Streeter said a lot more, but it makes me sick to hear it. I can feel the little squirmy beasts under my feet every step I take."

About noon the boys struck a creek, where their paddles came into play, and very glad they both were. For a time grass troubled them, and their progress was slow, but the stream gradually broadened and deepened, while its banks became covered with trees and vines, and the very sound of their paddles dipping into the clear water was a joy to them. Again the brook widened, this time into a shallow bay, but a narrow, deep channel remained, which soon led the boys into a tidal river.

They were about to follow the current of the river when the head of some strange animal was lifted above the surface of the water near them, followed by a mass of water thrown high in the air by a big tail, which flashed in sight for a moment. A line of great swirls, like those made by the propeller of a steamboat, led out in the bay and marked the course of the fleeing creature. Ned and Dick forgot that they were tired, and paddled furiously on the trail until they reached the end of it. Another line of swirls showed where the creature had gone, and once more they followed him. Again and again they were led on until they had traveled a couple of miles, when they lost the trail completely. While they were trying to find it Dick saw the head of the thing lifted for an instant, some two hundred yards away, at the mouth of a little cove. When they reached the cove they found the water clear and deep, and while drifting quietly on its surface they saw resting on the bottom near them a curious creature about ten feet long, with flippers like a seal and a big, powerful tail set crosswise like that of a dolphin.

"I know what that is," said Ned excitedly. "I've been reading about the fauna of Florida lately, and this isn't a fish. It's a very rare mammal, a manatee, or sea-cow. It's perfectly harmless. I wonder if we could catch it. Let's try it. I'll fix a lasso and throw it over the manatee's head when it comes up to breathe."

"S'pose you get your rope over its head, what will happen next to the canoe—and to us?"

"That's what I want to find out. Please paddle a little nearer very quietly. He is beginning to rise," said Ned, who had made a noose in the end of a harpoon line and was standing in the bow of the canoe, ready to throw it the instant the creature's nose reached the surface.

"I see our finish," said Dick as he held his paddle ready to steady the canoe, which was already endangered by Ned's standing up in it. The next instant the manatee came to the surface, and as the creature lifted its head Ned threw his lasso over it. An upward stroke of the big tail of the manatee sent a column of water in the air which half filled the canoe and nearly capsized it, in spite of Dick's best efforts. When the commotion subsided Ned had disappeared. Dick looked wildly over the surface and then into the water, and was just going overboard to search the bottom when Ned's head appeared on the surface. At first the boy seemed confused and swam away from the canoe, but turned when Dick called to him. The canoe was half full of water, and as it would have been difficult for Ned to get aboard without capsizing it, he swam to the nearest key, while Dick paddled the canoe to the shoal water beside it. As the boys stood in the water bailing out the canoe and examining its cargo, Dick said to Ned:

"What did your book say about the manatee being a perfectly harmless animal? I'd sure hate to be spanked by that harmless tail."

"So it is harmless, and if we can tire one out I'm not afraid to go overboard and tackle him in the water."

"Neither am I afraid, and I'll go overboard with you, only I'm afraid that by the time we've tired one of those things I won't be able to swim at all."

Late that afternoon, as the boys were paddling through a long narrow bay of many keys, they became anxious, because for hours they had not seen a bit of ground on which they could camp.

"Looks as if we've got to sleep in the water," said Dick. "If Johnny were here he would fix up a camp anywhere, and I'll do the best I can. Let's keep on to that point where the palmettos are. If we don't find land there we'll camp on mangrove roots."

The boys were in luck, for under the palmettos on the point was a regular Indian camping-ground, with logs for the camp-fire in place and poles ready for stretching a canvas covering, or rigging up mosquito bars.

It was the boys' first real camp together, the very camp of which they had talked and dreamed for years in that far-off Belleville, now more than a thousand miles away. Never before was there so wonderful a supper as the boys enjoyed that night. There was venison, superbly broiled by Ned; a perfect ash-cake, built and baked by Dick, and a pot of gorgeous coffee, for which both claimed credit. They lingered long over their supper, and then talked for half the night as they lay on their bed of palmetto leaves and watched the stars that looked down upon them through the tops of the trees. From the deep water that flowed past the point on which they were encamped came the occasional snort of a dolphin, the crash of a whip-ray as he struck the water after a leap high in the air, and the splashing of fish as they pursued others or were pursued by them. From the thicket behind their camp came the snarling of wildcats, while in the more distant woods the curdling cry of the panther, or mountain lion, could be heard from time to time. A long roar that rose and fell and seemed to come from all sides at once was recognized by Ned as the bellowing of an alligator. Sometimes they heard the beating of invisible wings as flocks of birds flew over them, while the "Hoo! hoo hoo! hoo hoo!" of talkative owls as they conversed lasted throughout the night.

Ned was so anxious for another chance at a manatee that the boys decided to camp where they were and hunt the creature regularly.

"We'll leave all our stores in camp," said Ned, "because we might get capsized."

"Oh, yes! We might get capsized! Is there a chance on earth that we might not get capsized? We'll leave everything in camp excepting the paddles and that lasso of yours which did you so much good yesterday."

"You like to talk, Dick, but you know you wouldn't miss that manatee hunt for a farm. We will have to put it off a day or two, though, until we kill a deer and jerk the venison. We've just eaten the last scrap of meat in camp. There's a trail running back into the bushes that must lead to a meadow where we can walk and probably find deer."

"All right. You'll take your rifle and I'll tag on with the shotgun, just to see that you keep out of mischief."

The trail which the boys followed did lead to a meadow where there were plenty of deer tracks, but no deer. They waded and tramped through the meadow to its farther side, where they entered a wooded swamp. Here they started up a deer, at which Ned took two snap-shots as the creature ran away. They traveled in the swamp for an hour, when they came to another meadow, on the farther side of which two deer were feeding. The wind must have carried a hostile scent to the quarry, for they slipped quietly into the swamp, and when the boys entered it were not to be seen. Again the young hunters sought their game through the swamp. They worked their way through thickets, among tangles of roots and vines, and wallowed through moccasin-infested pools of water and mud. In the excitement of the chase the boys took no note of time or of the direction in which they were traveling. It was late in the day when, with clothing muddied and torn, the boys, exhausted and discouraged, sat on a log in a swamp and decided to give up the hunt and go back to camp. They turned back and Ned led the way while Dick followed until they brought up against an impassable mangrove swamp. Ned looked to the right and the left, and then turning to Billy asked if he knew where camp was.

"No," said Dick.

"Then we're lost."

"Of course. You're always lost in a swamp. Mr. Streeter says so. He says you may lose your boat or your camp, but with a rifle, matches and a little salt you can travel over all South Florida.".

Ned looked so unhappy over their prospects that Dick took the lead, saying:

"If we don't get out of this swamp pretty soon we'll have to camp in it, and we'll need some daylight to fix up in."

At this moment a night heron lit on a branch near Dick, who raised his gun and shot it.

"That's our supper, Ned. I wouldn't shoot a bird sitting unless I was starving. Don't the woods look lighter over there?" In a few minutes the boys were in an open prairie, where Dick produced a waterproof match-box, which was well filled, and a small bag of salt. A fire was soon built, the heron dressed, broiled and eaten with only fingers for forks. The boys washed down their dinners with water from a pool, which they first examined for moccasins by the light of a burning palmetto fan.

Ned slept with his rifle by his side, and Dick was awakened in the morning by its discharge. He saw Ned sitting beside him with the rifle in his hand, while a hundred yards away, on the edge of the clearing, a buck lay on his back kicking. While the boys were hoisting the carcass to the branch of a tree, Ned said to Dick:

"I was in a blue funk yesterday afternoon. I want you to promise to kick me if I get scared that way again."

Dick laughed and replied:

"That would be all right, Ned, if I felt sure what you would be doing while I was kicking you."

After breakfast, which consisted of venison, Dick suggested that they go to work systematically to find their lost camp, and proceeded to climb a tall palmetto that stood in the clearing to take an observation. When half way up the tree he slid back to the ground looking like a chimney-sweep. For the outside of the palmetto, like most of those that grow on prairies, had been turned into charcoal by the burning of the prairie grass.

"Ned," said Dick, when the former had stopped laughing at the blackamoor before him because he was out of breath, "I guess it's your turn to kick me. Do you see that trail where I stopped last night to build our camp-fire because I didn't know the way to camp?"

"See it now. Didn't know it was there before, though."

"No more did I; but I saw it yesterday morning, and I took special notice of this palmetto and made sure that I'd never forget this prairie. Why, Ned, this is our own camping-ground, and I could throw a biscuit from this prairie to our canoe. Now you can kick."

After the boys had carried their venison to their camp, Ned said:

"Dick, do you know how to jerk venison?"

"I've seen Johnny smoke it. Is that the same thing?"

"Sure! So while you're skinning the buck I'll lam into that black mangrove log and build a fire under the little scaffold of small poles there, which you hadn't seen, but which was built to cure venison. Say, Dick, don't you want to hire out as a scout?"

Dick grinned, but made no other reply, and they began the work of jerking the venison. They cut it in thin strips and hung it over the fire of the black mangrove, which is one of the smokiest woods on earth. All day long they fed the fire and watched the venison, while scores of buzzards sat around on the trees and overlooked the work. Far into the night the boys lay beside the fire, watched its curling smoke, and talked of that camp in the snow in the North of the long ago.



CHAPTER IX

THE CAPTURE OF THE MANATEE

The manatee hunt began as soon as the venison had been cured. The boys explored the waters about their camp, making each day a longer trip and taking careful note of all the waters they explored. They usually hunted through the forenoon, and after dinner Ned mapped out the course they had taken while Dick took a walk with the shot-gun and picked up an Indian hen, or limp-kin, or a brace of ducks for supper. Within a week Ned had made a good working chart of the country about them, both land and water, and the boys had come to know their surroundings as if they had been born among them. Nearly every day they found and chased a manatee. Sometimes they found three or four in a day, but the creatures always swam faster than their pursuers and were still frisky when the boys were worn to frazzles.

One morning a big manatee which they were chasing happened to come up beside the canoe to breathe, when Ned splashed it with his paddle and drove it under water before it could catch its breath. The sea-cow had to come up again in a few seconds and was once more driven below the surface by Ned. Almost instantly the creature lifted its head so far above the surface that Ned dropped his paddle and seized the soft nose of the manatee with both hands.

"Look out!" yelled Dick, but he was the one to have looked out. For, as the sea-cow threw down its head and tail, Ned was dragged out of the canoe onto his upward-arching back. Then the animal's back was curved downward and the flat tail thrown violently upward into the air. As the stern of the canoe was over the tail and Dick was in the stern of the canoe, both boy and canoe went suddenly in the air with a few barrels of water over and around them. When Dick came to the surface he saw his companion being savagely tossed about by an angry monster that seemed to be holding him between his jaws. Dick was terribly frightened and swam as swiftly as possible to Ned's help, but before he could reach him the boy had been tossed aside and the manatee had disappeared.

"Are you hurt?" said Dick, as soon as he got enough breath to speak.

"Course not! Manatees are harmless. Told you so before. But, say, Dicky boy, why didn't you get there a minute sooner and grab a flipper? He'd be our manatee now, if you had."

"More likely he'd have had us, Neddy. You didn't see what he did to me with just one slap of his tail."

The boys collected their paddles and swam with the canoe to shoal water, where they lifted it, poured out the water and got aboard.

On their next hunt the boys put a number of chunks of wood in the canoe and when a manatee was started they paddled quietly and tried not to frighten the creature by going too near it at first. Then Ned took in his paddle and armed himself with chunks of wood, while Dick paddled toward the quarry. When the sea-cow lifted its nose out of water, for air, it was hit or splashed by a chunk. The frightened animal dove quickly, but came up again almost immediately for the air it had to have. Another chunk hit its nose, but, confused and half strangled, the manatee hardly moved until Dick had driven the canoe beside it and Ned had landed on its back. Ned failed to grasp the creature's nose with his right hand, but caught the manatee by the flipper with his left and clung to it, although tossed off of the back of the animal. But Dick was in the river a second after his companion and was clutching the right flipper of the manatee with one hand and reaching for its nose with the other. The sea-cow threw its tail high in the air, then lashing it downward, plunged, head-foremost, deep in the water. The boys went under but hung on to the flippers, and Dick got a grip on the creature's nose. Both of the boys were expert swimmers and divers, and were prepared to stay under water as much as a minute rather than release their quarry, but within half that time the animal wanted to breathe and rose to the surface. After that the boys had little trouble, and the manatee, which was a small one, became almost tame. They swam with it to a shoal place where, standing in water a little more than waist deep, they petted and soothed their prize until it seemed quite friendly. Suddenly, Dick exclaimed:

"What's become of the canoe? I capsized it when I went overboard and haven't thought of it since."

"I'd forgotten it, too. It must have floated with the tide a good ways down the river by this time. I'll swim down stream and hunt it up, if you will stay here and take care of the manatee, unless you think we had better turn it loose and both go for the canoe. We will be in a bad fix if we lose it. If you can take care of the manatee I can find the canoe." And Ned swam away down the river.

Helped by the current he had swum a mile when the stream spread out into a bay that was a mile long and nearly as wide, which was filled with eel-grass and covered with moss. He soon found one of the paddles, but in getting it became entangled in the long grass, until he was in great danger of drowning. By lying lengthways on the paddle, keeping his legs extended and swimming with long over-hand strokes, he got out of the tangle. He had been pretty well frightened, and swimming to the shore, climbed up on some mangrove roots. After looking for a long time, Ned made out the bow of the submerged little canoe sticking out from a bunch of moss in the eel-grass. It was about an eighth of a mile away and he started for it, swimming along the edge of the field of grass, but sheering away constantly, as the treacherous current seemed striving to sweep him within the clinging clutch of the swaying blades of the rope-like grass.

When Ned got opposite the canoe he found that it was forty feet within the field of grass. He dreaded to put himself again within that deadly grasp, but the thought of Dick waiting for him, alone with that strange beast, nerved him to make the plunge. Again he lay on the paddle, keeping his feet quiet and making his way slowly with his hands toward the canoe. At last he reached the craft, but could do nothing with it. He could not pull it and it refused to be pushed. He could touch the bottom with his feet, but it was of soft mud and the thick grass tangled him worse than ever. He got into the canoe and lay on his back under the thwarts, with only part of his head out of water. By rocking the canoe, with a short, jerky motion, he got rid of some of the water and finished the bailing with his hat. It was not easy to paddle out through the grass and moss to the open water, but Ned accomplished it. Standing up in the canoe, he searched for the other paddle and soon saw and recovered it. He had now more than a mile to paddle against a tide that was still strong, and he saw, to his alarm, that it was nearly sunset. It was about midday when they tackled the manatee, and Dick must have been alone with it for a good many hours. Ned was so anxious that he paddled furiously and was glad enough when he found Dick standing in water shoulder deep, hanging on to the flipper of the manatee, and occasionally patting its nose with his hand.



"Oh, Ned! I'm glad to see you," was Dick's greeting to his chum. "A hundred times, I've almost let this beast go so that I could swim down the river and look for you. If I hadn't heard you coming a few minutes ago I'd have been off by now, anyhow."

"What could you have done, swimming down a big river like this, in the dark?"

"What could I have done here, or back in camp, without you, Ned?"

Ned gave an amusing account of his adventures and made fun of his fears.

"Now tell me what happened to you, in those long hours. Did you get scared, too, Dick?"

"Most of my scare was about you, though I did have one or two little troubles of my own. For a good while after you swam away the baby behaved like a cherub. He let me put my arm around him, as far as it would go, and when I rubbed his soft mouth with my hand he seemed to like it. Then, suddenly he lashed out with his tail, threw me off my feet and carried me out into deep water. I don't quite know how I managed to turn him around and get back with him into shoal water. I know I was under water a good deal and got very much out of breath. I guess, though, from the grip I kept on that baby's nose, that he was short of wind himself. Anyhow, when we got back and I let go, he lifted his head out of water and sniffed and snorted like a cow with the consumption. Then, just as I was feeling pretty good and thinking what a nice nurse for a manatee baby I was and what an easy job it seemed, I got a terrible jar.

"Something punched me gently in the back, and when I turned my head I saw a monster that must have been twelve feet long, and weighed a ton or two. It was Baby's ma! She poked her nose all over him and even rubbed it against my arm, which was around him, but I never flinched, though there ought to be some stronger word than scared to fully express my feelings, when I felt that big mouth against my arm. The great manatee mother didn't seem to mind me a bit, as she swam around us two or three times, but I squirmed a good deal when that tremendous tail, which was moving so slowly, came opposite me, and I wondered if it was going to mash me as flat as a sheet of paper, or only knock me over the tops of the mangroves. But that scare was nothing to the next one. After Ma Manatee had gone, Baby and I had a quiet hour or so and I was getting pretty tired and beginning to worry a lot about you, when something happened to set me to worrying about myself. This is a big, deep river, and there was enough going on to amuse me, dolphins, turtles and tarpon coming up to blow as they passed and small fish jumping out of the water most of the time.

"Sometimes a splash and the scattering of little fish when a big one got after them startled me for a minute, but I got over minding it much, when a big, big splash came and there was a long struggle in the river near me. Perhaps I wouldn't have minded it so much, but Baby got crazy again and I couldn't soothe him. Next minute I didn't blame him, for I was 'most crazy myself. Out from all the ruction in the water, there came, swimming slowly toward us, a great leopard shark. I knew him from the spots which covered his body, for he was so near that I could have counted them. He was certainly over ten feet long and looked as if he had plenty of room in his stomach for both the baby and me. I remembered that Mr. Streeter had told me that no shark in this country had ever attacked a human being, so I braced up a little and pulled that splashing manatee baby out toward the shark, and I splashed some myself and acted as if I wanted to eat that Tiger of the Sea. Would you believe it? He was scared silly and, though I was in a blue funk myself, I laughed so that you might have heard me if you had been listening. For behind that shark was a wake such as a big motor boat would have made. After the shark had gone, I had another worrying fit. You had been gone a long time, and the thought kept coming to me that you might have met that shark. Neddy boy, next time you go off alone on a long swim, I'm going with you. Now what shall we do with the baby? The tide will turn before long and I s'pose we could get him to camp. He'd go along all right, but it would be a mile swim, though we could take turns at it."

"I'd rather swim all the way," said Ned, "than to climb into this canoe once, from the river. But what's the use? There's no grass at the camp and the water is too deep for an infant like Baby. Why not tie him here for to-night? Then to-morrow we will take him down to that big bay and make a nursery for him in a shallow little cove that I saw there. It's full of nice manatee grass and we can put stakes across the mouth, or pasture Baby at the end of a rope. But what are we going to do with him, after that?"

"Don't borrow trouble, Ned. That question will come up later. The next thing for us to do is to tie this little beast. So trot out that harpoon line."

Dick untied the harpoon line, which was kept lashed to a thwart in the canoe, and, after getting overboard, carefully fastened the painter of the canoe to a mangrove root. The boys made a harness for the little manatee of one end of the line, by making one loop around the body of the baby, just behind his flippers, another around his tail and then connecting the two. The other end of the harpoon line was then fastened to a mangrove tree on the bank and the baby was turned loose. Dick steadied the canoe while Ned climbed aboard, but when Ned tried to steady it for Dick to get in it, there was a capsize. Dick apologized for his clumsiness and Ned complained that he hated to get wet. The next attempt was successful and the boys were soon eating venison and drinking coffee at their camp. They were tired and talkative when they lay down for the night, and both went to sleep in the middle of a sentence.

The boys hurried through their breakfast the next morning, anxious to see their captive, which they found where they left him, quite friendly and almost unafraid. Dick took the line in the stern of the canoe, while Ned paddled from the bow. Baby was tractable and allowed himself to be towed, even swimming himself. He behaved best when his head was brought beside the canoe and seemed to like the petting that Dick gave him. When the baby had been tied in the little cove that Ned had discovered, in such a way that he could range over the whole of his nursery, the boys decided not to put a row of poles across the mouth of it. Dick thought it was too much work and Ned said it was no use, because Ma Manatee would knock the whole business over the tree-tops with one gentle little whack of her tail.

They paddled back to their camp and hunted over the prairies behind it all the afternoon. Ned shot another buck, this time in a very boggy swamp. It was not a big buck, but before they got out of the swamp with it the boys had learned several ways in which a deer should not be carried. First, one took the carcass by the tail-end and the other by the head. The middle of the body sagged down in the mud and pulled the boys after it. Then the creature was slung on a pole, which they took on their shoulders. This was better, but every time one stumbled, which was most of the time, both landed in the bog. Then Ned remembered what all boys should know, and the legs of the buck were skinned up to the knee joints. With these loose ends of skin, the legs were so tied together in pairs as to form a loop through which the arms could be thrust and the whole body of the deer worn like a coat.

By taking turns at toting the thing, the boys got their venison to camp without very much trouble. While jerking it they were very glad to lie around camp and rest, and gossip. But their talk always came around to one subject—what to do with their captive. Ned wanted to send him North to some aquarium, but didn't quite see how to do it. Dick offered to swim him down the rivers to the Gulf of Mexico if Ned would sail him up the coast to Marco or Myers, for shipment by water or rail.

"I'm really in earnest about this, Dick, because I know father would like it so much. He is always looking out for curiosities to send to museums or his collecting friends, and this would be such a rare thing."

"Would your father stand for a good big bill to get Baby north?"

"He'd stand for anything! What's in your noddle, Dick?"

"It can be done, easy. We're not many miles from the coast, and I've been wrecked on that coast, Neddy, so I remember it. We will paddle down this river, and as many more as are necessary, until we get to the Gulf. Then we'll paddle along the coast to the shack of a fisherman whom I know. He's got a sloop and all you've got to do is to offer him enough, to make him hustle around for lumber and make a water-tight box big enough for Baby to travel in. Then we will help him get the infant aboard, start him for the railroad and go back to our hunt. Has your father an agent in Myers who'd take your word for the bill? Coz if he didn't the account would likely be settled with a shot-gun."

"Agent? Why, dad will be there himself by that time. And if he isn't, the agent is there all right, all right. So if your pirate settles with me with a shot-gun, I'll settle with that agent, same way."

As soon as the meat was cured, the boys started for the coast in their canoe. On the way they stopped at the nursery and found Baby almost glad to see them, and when Ned put half a banana in his mouth, the little manatee seemed really grateful. Ned even thought that when he pressed the baby's flipper good-bye, the pressure was returned, at least that is what he told Dick. The canoeists had trouble in avoiding the grass and moss of the big bay, but two hours of paddling carried them to the coast, where a strong on-shore wind was sending long rollers up on the beach. Dick knew where they were, and said that they had come down Broad River, and that the fisherman's ranch was only six or seven miles up the coast.

"We can walk up the beach to it and save time. The water is too rough for the canoe," said Ned.

"I don't know about that. I've lived on the water some and I've seen curious things done with canoes. Let's try it."

"Better try the waves with an empty canoe first. Then I'll be with you."

The canoe was unloaded on a quiet bit of the beach which lay behind a shoal and the boys by turns got into the canoe and paddled out among the breakers. Then they went out together and through it all the canoe rose to the waves like a duck. Then they reloaded their canoe and started up the beach. At times the wind was stronger and the waves bigger, but always the canoe rode them with a gait like a rocking-chair. They paddled easily, "taking the waves on the bias," as Dick observed, heading a little off-shore to balance the push of the wind and the waves.

The fisherman was at home, and Ned soon closed a contract with him to carry Baby Manatee to Myers at Ned's cost and risk, payment to be made in Myers by Mr. Barstow or his agent. The man had just got in some lumber to build a skiff. This would serve to build the box, and the charge for it would be five dollars. The fisherman said he would need the help of his son; that the charge for the two would be four dollars a day, and he "reckoned" it would take eight days, so the contract was closed for thirty-seven dollars. He was ready to start right off and catch the evening tide up Broad River.

"Don't you want to make the box first?" said Ned.

"Reckon not. 'Druther see the manatee 'fore I spile good lumber. Manatees is mighty scurse in this country."

Dick flared up, and said to the fisherman:

"Do you mean that we've been lying about a manatee?"

"Course not, not lyin'; manatee's all right, only you ain't much ust to 'em and it may be bigger'n you think, 'nd I'd hate to make th' box too little."

The lumber was taken on board, the canoe unloaded and laid on the deck of the sloop, the sails reefed and with her skiff drawn close up under her stern the craft was soon flying down the coast. When she reached the river the reefs were shaken out and in little more than an hour anchor was dropped beside the manatee cove. It was nearly dark and work was to begin the next morning, but all hands wanted a look at the little manatee. The fisherman and his son went in their own skiff while Ned and Dick led the way in the canoe.

"Now I'll show you something worth seeing," said Ned, as he took hold of the end of the line and pulled it all easily in. As Ned sat looking at the broken end of the line, half stupefied by the greatness of his surprise, the fisherman laughed and said:

"That sure was worth seem', 'nd I reckon I've saved you five dollars by not makin' that box till I got here 'nd saw the critter."

"I'll keep the contract. It isn't your fault that the manatee has got away."

"No, I reckon 'twan't anybody's fault, much. All I want out o' you is four dollars for one day's work," and the fisherman laughed again, adding a moment afterward:

"I'm 'most ashamed to take that much, but I reckon the joke's been wuth it ter you."

Ned paid the four dollars and the boys paddled back to their old camp for the night. On the way back Ned stopped paddling, and turning back, said to Dick:

"Did that old fellow mean that he didn't believe we had caught a manatee at all?"

"If I thought he did, I'd go back and punch his head."

"No, you wouldn't. He isn't to blame. He only thought what everybody who hears of it and don't know us will think. I hope he won't tell about it in Myers, so that it will get to Dad's ears."

"I shouldn't think you'd care for that," said Dick.

"Well, Dad enjoys a joke and I would likely hear of 'Ned's manatee' pretty frequent for some time."



CHAPTER X

HARPOONING FROM A CANOE

Do you want to go for any more manatees?" asked Dick, the next morning.

"Guess not. We're pretty well acquainted with the critters already and if we tackled another it would likely be a bigger one, and the sample we had was about all we could manage. But the bay here is full of big fish. Suppose we get out the little harpoon and pick up some drum-fish, channel-bass or a whip-ray?"

When the boys started out for a day of harpooning, Dick sat high up on the stern of the canoe with the paddle, while Ned stood in the bow with the harpoon.

"Hadn't you better sit down in the bottom of the canoe to paddle? The canoe feels wobbly to me," said Ned.

"What's the matter with your nerves, Neddy? I'm not going to capsize you. S'pose I practiced half a day with that papoose for nothing?"

"Most of that practice was swimming, wasn't it? I don't want any of that in mine to-day."

Ned harpooned several large drum-fish, and finally got a channel-bass, after missing several.

"We've got a lot more fish than we can eat now. Let's go for something big and have some fun. Hit that shark over there."

"That shark could bite this canoe in two and then swallow the pieces. I wouldn't mind that so much if we were in the Glades, but I don't want to be set afoot so far from fresh water. See that big whip-ray! It's a beaut;—paddle up to it, Dick."

Dick paddled toward the fish, which was shaped like a butterfly, with a back six feet broad, covered with beautiful little white rings placed on a jet black background. The graceful creature fluttered along the surface of the bay with a bird-like motion, at a speed that soon took it nearly out of sight of the boys. Dick followed it, as it zigzagged about the bay, sometimes skimming on the very surface and then disappearing in the depths for minutes at a time. Once it was out of sight for five minutes, and Dick had just stopped paddling, saying:

"Got to give it up. That big butterfly is the other side of the bay by this time," when Ned saw the broad back of the creature gliding beneath his harpoon, beside the canoe and a foot or two under the surface. His quick side-throw was doubly effective, for the harpoon was buried in the back of the quarry, while Ned and Dick were buried in the water of the bay. The center of gravity of the canoe's cargo of boys was at least two feet above the gunwales of the craft, and when Ned's side-thrust threw him out of balance, the canoe popped from under him, and as Dick sat on the stern of the canoe and quite outside of it, he was in the water as soon as his chum. The whip-ray had darted away at high speed as soon as the iron touched him, but before the line which was coiled in the harpoon tub had run out, Ned had seized the tub, which was floating near him when he came to the surface.

The end of the line was fast to the tub and when it was reached Ned was hauled through the water by the fish. If Ned had been built like a canoe, he would probably have caught the whip-ray, but the drag of the boy in the water was too much for the hold the iron had in the body of the creature, and the harpoon tore out. The boys managed to rock the water out of the canoe, but swamped it several times while trying to get in it without going ashore. After they had succeeded, Dick took the harpoon, while Ned sat in the bottom of the canoe with his paddle.

"Now go ahead and harpoon your fish and I'll show you how to keep a canoe trimmed. What you really need is a scow," said Ned.

"If I couldn't throw a harpoon over the side of a canoe without going over the other side myself, I'd give up fishing and try farming. Now just paddle softly in the wake of that big fin. Know what it is? I thought not. Well, it's the bayonet fin of the tarpon, my son, and if you'll paddle quietly and stay inside the boat, you shall have the fun of your life."

The tarpon was tame, and Ned paddled within twenty feet of it without frightening it, but Dick made a poor shot. The back of a tarpon is narrow and a small mark for a harpoon when thrown from behind the fish, and Dick's weapon grazed its side, while the pole fell across the back of the tarpon, causing it to give one wild leap and depart for regions unknown. Dick was now out for tarpon, and paid no attention to smaller fish, many of which came within striking distance. Tarpon were scarce that day, and Dick's next chance was an hour in coming, and then the fish happened to be headed for the canoe. The boy had not learned the difficulty of throwing an iron through the coat of mail of a tarpon excepting from abaft the beam of the fish, and he drew in his harpoon with a beautiful four-inch scale fixed on its point.

"Take the harpoon, Ned. I couldn't hit a house."

"Yes, you could. You hit that tarpon. Only trouble was, you didn't know where to hit it. Keep on practicing. You said I'd have the fun of my life, and I'm having it."



Half an hour later Dick made a beautiful, long throw of nearly thirty feet, and the stricken tarpon leaped six feet in the air. For two hundred yards the frantic fish towed the canoe in a straight line, at a high rate of speed, and then began a series of leaps in the air. Some of these were long jumps which barely cleared the surface of the water, while others were from eight to ten feet vertically upward. The tarpon then darted away in a new direction, blistering Dick's hands as the line tore through them. For a quarter of an hour the drag of the canoe made little difference in the speed of the tarpon, but then it began to slacken and Dick was able to pull the canoe up beside the fish, which gave a leap and a sweep of its tail that drenched both of the boys and, if the tarpon had been a foot nearer, would have wrecked their craft. Again the creature dashed away, getting back most of the line that Dick had taken in. Once more the fish weakened, and the canoe was drawn up beside it, and once more it sprang in the air and dashed away. But with each fresh effort the tarpon became weaker, until Dick said to Ned:

"He's about played out. Better take the gaff next time I get near him and see if you can land him in the canoe."

"No," replied Ned, "he's your tarpon and you can gaff him yourself. He'll capsize the canoe when he comes aboard and I want to be ready to swim."



Dick drew the canoe beside the tarpon and, dropping the harpoon-line, held the handle of the big gaff-hook in both hands, ready to strike. But the fish saw the uplifted weapon and sheered away, swimming with renewed vigor, and Dick had to work for another half hour before his quarry was quiet enough for the blow. This delay was fortunate for the boys, since it left the tarpon too tired to struggle. When Dick sank the steel gaff deep in the throat of the Silver King and dragged it over the side of the frail canoe, Ned sat in the bottom of the craft with a hand on each gunwale, ready to balance the boat or swim, as events might indicate.

The boys took a lot of the big silver scales as souvenirs and then slid the body of the tarpon into the bay, where it was soon devoured by a couple of wandering sharks.



CHAPTER XI

GHOSTS AND ALLIGATORS

The boys spent a day exploring the bay to the east and south, finding but a single creek, which lost itself in the jungle after wandering a few miles.

"I don't believe we can get through this way," said Dick to his chum, as they were resting, after an hour of hard work, cutting away branches of trees and dragging the canoe. "Mr. Streeter told me that the Indians say there is no creek between the bays at the head of Broad River, where we are, and the rivers south of it. Suppose we work our way to the mouth of this river and then follow the coast down to Harney's, which is the next river south of us and the longest one in South Florida."

"All right, and we can explore that big creek running west from the foot of this bay, which we saw yesterday."

The boys found the creek to be deep with swift water, but so crooked that a snake would have had to slow up to get through it. After two miles of paddling, which advanced them about half a mile, they found themselves in a broad smooth-flowing river, the most beautiful stream they had ever seen. The big trees on the banks were clothed with airplants, draped with long, flowing gray moss and garlanded with flowering and sweet-scented vines. Sometimes an opening in the forest showed broad savannahs, or prairies, or disclosed groups of tall palmettos or magnificent royal palms, the grandest tree that grows. The water was mirror-like, and the great trees, capped by a mass of white clouds in the blue of the heavens, were repeated below in a reflection that was perfect. The boys paddled for a long time, silent as if in a dream, when Ned spoke in a voice so low that his companion could scarcely hear what he said:

"Does it make you think of Heaven, Dick?"

"Guess it does; only," added Dick, in a louder tone, "it will make you think of the other place, pretty soon."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a deserted river. Only ghosts stay here. The plantations are grown over, the houses rotting and little sticks in the ground tell where the old owners are. The climate is so bad that skull and bone notices grow on the trees. Then things happen. People eat something and die, or fall out of their boats and drown, or go out in the woods and stay till the buzzards find them. Oh, but it's the peaceful, lovely Rodgers River!"

"Why, where did you hear all that, Dick?"

"From Mr. Streeter. He talked a lot and I didn't forget much that he said. Then Johnny had heard the talk of convicts, and others who ought to have been, and told me about them almost in a whisper, for fear somebody would hear him."

"There's a rotting old shack, now, by that date palm. Are you afraid of ghosts?"

"No, rather like 'em. I wouldn't mind camping with them for a day or two, with you for company."



The house looked too spooky and snaky to live in, and the boys made their camp in the open, near a tamarind tree and, as they observed later, beside an overgrown grave. An old barrel under the eaves of the house was nearly full of rain water, which they were likely to need, since their only supply of fresh water was contained in a five-gallon can, which would hold about two days' requirements. The rain water was good and would have been better but for Ned's gruesome inquiry:

"You don't suppose it has been poisoned, do you, Dick?"

On their first afternoon the boys crossed the swampy jungle in the rear of the old plantation and found themselves on a typical South Florida prairie. On it were oases of fire-blackened palmettos, little ponds, palmetto scrub and bits of soggy meadow, in which they often sank to their knees, as they plodded across them. There were tracks of wild animals in the meadows and regular trails of alligators between the ponds. Billy stopped beside one of the ponds and grunted, as he had been taught by Johnny, until a little 'gator showed his head.

"See that alligator, Ned? Let's go in there and fetch him out."

"Not much do I go in that mud-hole, alligator or no alligator."

"Then, just you watch me," said Dick, as he took off his shoes and stockings.

"See here, Dicky boy, come out of there," said Ned.

But Dick kept on, wading all round the pond before he felt the wiggle he wanted. Perhaps his toes were less tough than Johnny's, or maybe he didn't manage them as well, for one of them got in a baby 'gator's mouth. Dick couldn't suppress a yell as two rows of needle-like teeth sunk into his flesh, and he jerked his foot away so violently that he lost the chance of bagging his game. Then Ned came floundering through the mud and almost dragged him out of the pond.