CHAPTER X

BLUFF'S FIRST 'GATOR

"Don't you move a hand or foot, you rascal!" cried Bluff sternly as he suddenly sat up, with leveled gun.

The unknown pillager was only a comparatively few feet away, so that it was easy for him to see the weapon covered him. Immediately he elevated his hands, as if to signify that he surrendered.

"What is it, Bluff?" asked a quiet voice, and Frank appeared from the bottom of the boat.

By then the thief must have determined that unless he took chances he would be made a prisoner. He gave a sudden yell, and threw himself over the gunwale of the boat. By chance it was the side toward the water, and they heard the splash that announced his arrival below.

"Some fellow aboard, bent on stealing everything we had!" exclaimed Bluff.

"Was it George?" gasped Will, aghast at the possibility of such ingratitude.

"No; a white man. See! There he goes, swimming across the river!"

The light was not very good, but they could see a sort of phosphorescent glow on the water, where some object was struggling for the opposite bank.

Bluff half leveled his gun, when Frank shoved it aside.

"You wouldn't want to kill him, even if he is a desperate case. I guess he got little or nothing. Let him go. The sheriff will be along after him soon," he said.

"But what is that trailing after him, Frank?" echoed Will.

"Where?" demanded the other quickly.

"Why, look right there! And whatever it is, it's catching up with him fast, too! I believe it must be an alligator!" exclaimed Will.

"I had a glimpse of a big fellow hovering under the boat at dusk. I think he was after the refuse we threw over. Would he hurt a swimmer?" asked Bluff.

"I don't know. I wouldn't want to try his appetite, that's all. Could you give the beast a shot without hitting the man, Bluff?" asked Frank eagerly.

"Why, yes; for at this short distance the shot won't scatter much."

As he spoke Bluff took quick aim. He was only too glad to be able to make use of his gun in so good a cause. The thief might be all they painted him, and yet he was a white man, and a minister's son in the bargain, the sheriff had said.

With the heavy report there was a combination of sounds. The man in the water gave a yell, as though he fancied the shot had been aimed at him. A short distance away, the water was being threshed wildly by some unwieldy object.

"I hit him all right!" shouted the excited marksman.

Some vigorous language came floating across from where the man was now dragging himself out of the river.

"Say, Bob Young! You didn't think we shot at you, did you? There was a big 'gator after you, and he'd got you, too, only for that shot. Better make yourself scarce around these regions. The sheriff is after you, with dogs and a posse."

Frank called this out after the fleeing shadowy figure that was just halting on the edge of the bank opposite.

"Thanks!" came in a hoarse voice, followed by a reckless laugh. "But he'll find it a hard job to corner me, you bet!"

That was the last they ever saw of Bob Young. In the morning, sure enough, the baying of a hound was heard, and presently along came the sheriff with his two dogs and the grim deputies.

"Mornin', boys! Reckon yuh may 'a' seen sumpin o' my man this heah time, as he's sure been close tuh yuh!" he called out while still some distance off.

"Yes. He tried to rob us last night, and jumped overboard when discovered," returned Frank.

"And swam across to the other side. He was followed by a 'gator, that might have got him, too, only for our chum, Bluff, here, giving the reptile a shot," proceeded Jerry; while aside he said: "Get busy, Will, with that shebang of yours. Now's your chance to snap him off!"

"What's that, suh? If anybody tries to snap me off they're sure liable tuh get punctured some!" exclaimed the sheriff, whose ears were as keen as his eyes.

Frank laughed as he said:

"He means with a camera, Mr. Sheriff. My friend was sorry he didn't get your picture before, that's all. But if you want to cross over we can let you use our little dinghy here."

"Now, that's very considerate o' yuh, suh. I accept with pleasure, and when we round that rapscallion up, as we surely will before callin' the game off, yuh can have the satisfaction of knowing yuh hev helped the forces of law an' order, suh, to put an end tuh the career o' a most notorious rascal. I neglected tuh tell yuh before that this Bob Young is wanted fo' many crimes."

Frank tied a long rope to the dinghy, so that after the sheriff and his men and dogs were well over he could pull the boat back again. The dogs swam across, and the three men filled the small craft so full that there was danger of its capsizing.

However, they managed to get over in safety, and Will took a fine view of the strange ferry, with the dogs swimming alongside, while they were in midstream. The sheriff was so obliging as to actually pose for the picture.

"Heah's yuh 'gator over on the bank, suh. He must have crawled out to die, a most unusual thing for the varmints to do, as they generally sink like a rock, tuh stay down fo' several days!" he called out.

Then the posse vanished on the fresh trail of the desperado.

"I rather think they'll get Bob," ventured Frank. "That sheriff is a determined man, and he's enlisted in this hunt for keeps. How about going over to view the remains, Bluff?" he asked as he pulled the dinghy in.

"That's just what I was about to propose. My first 'gator, so perhaps I'd like to get his hide, if possible, or some of his teeth, anyway," returned the other, getting into the small boat with Frank.

Sure enough, they found a dead alligator up on the bank. The load of shot, fired at such a short distance, must have gone pretty much like a bullet. Some of them had entered his protuberant eyes, and by accident must have pierced his brain.

"A lucky shot, all right. I don't believe it could ever happen again, especially when the one who fired was almost behind the 'gator," commented Frank.

"How big is he?" asked the one who had slain the reptile.

"I should say all of ten feet, perhaps even eleven. They seldom grow bigger than twelve down here, I'm told, so this one is something of a whopper. If the alligator man I talked with at Coney Island a year ago told the truth, then this one must be several hundred years old."

"Whew! Perhaps he saw Columbus land!" suggested Bluff humorously, for he could not quite believe any such tale.

He concluded merely to knock out a tooth or two, to remember the event, but when Will heard about it he insisted on being ferried over so as to get a picture of their first Florida 'gator, with the proud Bluff standing beside it, to prove its length.

They got under way about eight o'clock.

Just at that time Jerry said he heard some distant shooting. It seemed to come from the direction the sheriff and his party had gone, so they wondered if they could have come up with the fugitive Bob, and whether those shots had any reference to the two hounds.

"I think the fellow must have been armed, and unless his gun became useless after his bath last night, his first care would be to shoot down the dogs, so as to cut off pursuit," ventured Frank.

They afterward learned, however, by making inquiries, that the sheriff got his man, wounded, and that Bob later on paid the penalty of his crime.

By noon that day they came to a sawmill, where a party of convicts, under guard, were making cypress shingles. Our boys did not put in, for the sight was anything but pleasing to them; although Will did think it wise to get a picture of the camp, so as to add variety to his collection.

About three o'clock they suddenly came to a little town. Here they stopped only a brief time, Frank going ashore to post some letters and purchase a few things he had on his list.

Once more they were afloat.

"I've got some pleasant news for you, fellows," said Frank, about an hour or so after they had lost sight of the settlement in the woods.

"Along what line?" asked Will.

"I think I can guess. For some time I've been sniffing the air, and ready to declare that it had a whiff of salt in it!" exclaimed Jerry.

"And I could, in imagination, smell those fine fat oysters roasting," said Bluff, smacking his lips in anticipation.

"You're on, all right. The gulf is close at hand. Indeed, I'm adding a little speed just now, in the hope that we may be able to open it up before night," remarked Frank.

"How about that bend, just below? Somehow, it strikes me that once we round that something may be doing. It's just a sneaking notion, but you wait," ventured Jerry.

Ten minutes later they swept around the bend in question, and a cry burst from every lip, for there, in the light of the declining sun, lay the great Mexican Gulf, stretching as far in the distance as the eye could see.

The river cruise was ended, and another kind of adventure lay before them.



CHAPTER XI

ALL THE COMFORTS OF SALT WATER

"Why are you slowing up, Frank?"

"Yes, just when we ought to make a grand burst of speed, too," said Jerry.

"You forget that the sun is low, and evening close at hand," replied Frank,

"Tell me about that, and what it has to do with us. I'm a greeny when it comes to running a motor-boat."

"Oh, the boat has little to do with it; but please remember that the Gulf of Mexico is a larger affair than Camalot Lake. In fact, it means the ocean, with all that implies. Suppose we were caught off-shore the very first night with no place to go?"

"That would be tough, for a fact. I think I see what you mean, Frank. We'll anchor in the mouth of the river to-night—is that it?" continued Jerry.

"Just what I wanted to say. Then in the morning, after we have studied our gulf chart, we can lay out our day's work, if the wind is favorable."

"Wind! Why, we can go whether it blows or not!" ejaculated Will, who had already taken a snapshot of the picture presented by the open water beyond the island in the mouth of the river.

"Particularly when not. If anything of a south wind is on, the waves are apt to stagger such a little boat as this."

Frank had kept his eyes about him while he talked. He now brought the Jessamine alongside the bank at the most favorable spot he could see.

Jerry was ashore immediately.

"Make her additionally secure to-night," said Frank.

"Why, what d'ye expect—a hurricane?" And Will looked anxiously at the clear sky.

"Oh, I guess not; but you see we are now in the region of tides, and a change might swing us around, perhaps break the boat away from shore. We'd feel nice if we woke up in the morning to find ourselves out of sight of land," laughed Frank.

Of course he was joking, but Will looked serious for some time. He even went ashore, after Jerry had finished his job, and Frank, watching out of the corner of his eye, was amused to see him bending down and examining the ropes, as if to make certain they were securely tied.

Will was the possessor of a different nature from his three chums. He could show courage, when necessary, but, as a usual thing, was much more given to sentiment, and in physique he could hardly compare with any of the others.

Bluff had also gone ashore, and vanished from view. Frank could easily give a guess as to what sort of an errand he was on. It hardly needed glimpses of him bending over the spots where there were shoals along the tideway to understand that he was looking to see whether the one dearest wish of his heart was about to be fulfilled.

"I guess he'll find some, at last," laughed Frank, after calling Jerry's attention to the fact that the other had gone.

"Bluff is daft on the subject of oysters, all right. He never seems to tire of eating them in season, and yet he says he never picked one up on the spot where it grew. He seems to be coming back, Frank!" exclaimed Jerry, who was working with some fishing tackle that he had found aboard, and which Cousin Archie had used before in Southern waters.

"Hey! They're right here, and in tremendous quantities! Where's that oyster knife, Frank? Give it to me, please. I want to try a few right on the bed where they grew. Give me a tin kettle, too, and I'll open a mess for supper!" cried the boy ashore, as he reached the boat.

"Take care you don't cut your fingers. If these oysters are small, and stand up on edge, in clusters, they're called coon oysters, and have a sharp shell that is like a razor," said Frank as he handed the articles over.

"Why coon oysters?" demanded Bluff, who always wanted to know.

"Perhaps because they lie on shore, exposed at low water, and the 'coons manage to get a mess occasionally," put in the wise Jerry.

So Bluff hurried away around the bend, to amuse himself to his heart's content opening native oysters right where they grew, something he had looked forward to doing with almost childish delight.

Jerry, having arranged his tackle, got ready to do a little fishing, for it was still half an hour to sunset. He had discovered that there were mullet jumping out of the water here and there, "acrobats of the gulf," Frank called them.

Among other things aboard the motor-boat they had found a contraption which Frank said was a small Spanish cast-net. It had a row of leads along the bottom, with leading strings passing up through a central ring. Frank had read directions how to use this, and he amused himself making a few trials while Jerry was busy.

At first he came near pulling a few teeth out, for it is a part of the program that one of the leads must be held between the teeth while others are gathered up in the hands as the net is flung out over the water by a sharp rotary motion that spreads it open as it strikes.

The leads instantly sink, covering a space often ten feet or more in diameter; then, by drawing quickly at the rope, the cords are pulled through the ring and the net closes in like a purse, holding whatever fish it may have covered when thrown.

After a few trials Frank succeeded in catching a couple of silver mullet that had been unable to escape his clumsy attempts.

"I'll get the hang of it after a while," he said, as he tossed these into the little dinghy where Jerry was taking his place, "but those may do you for bait this evening, old fellow."

"Bully for you, Frank! Always coming to the rescue. I was just wondering what I should use, and had an eye on some big blue crabs swimming along there on the bottom. With the dip-net I might have caught a few. If Bluff sees them he'll never stop talking about fried crabs." And Jerry pushed off.

"Good luck to you, sportsman!" called Frank.

He had a number of things he wanted to do himself, and only cast an occasional glance out to where Jerry had anchored the dinghy, opposite to where the motor-boat was tied up.

Will was fussing around, doing something or other. He always made so much bustle whenever he had anything on hand that his chums frequently called him an "old woman," but this never seemed to bother the ardent photographer, who pursued his way in spite of laughter or ridicule.

After a while he came and sat down near where Frank was arranging the three little single blue-flame stoves that formed the cooking range of the boat.

"I was just thinking, Frank," said he, "that I've never heard you say a word about that mysterious packet your father entrusted to you before we left home."

"Well, I've often thought about it as I felt it in my pocket, but you see there's nothing to be done until we sight Cedar Keys. Then I'll break the seal and read further directions," replied Frank.

"Of course you've speculated about it?" went on Will.

"Lots of times, but always arrived at the same old point—that I couldn't guess in a year what it meant," laughed the other.

"Do you think it could be a joke?" asked Will.

"Never. My dad was too serious when he gave it to me; and besides, he never jokes like that. We must wait a little while, and then learn the truth. Depend on it, he had a good reason for what he did. I expect we'll get something of a big surprise."

"There comes Bluff, and I really believe the fellow's got some oysters opened, by the way he carries that kettle," said Will.

"And just look at the expression on his face, will you? A fellow who had won a first prize in school could hardly seem more tickled."

"Oh, I've got 'em, all right, boys, about a big quart, too, and only cut myself half a dozen times," cried Bluff, laughing as he scrambled aboard.

"And I give you fair warning that those cuts will hurt worse to-morrow than they do now. Let me see. Well, they do look pretty fine. I reckon you've got lots of broken shells in with the oysters, so I'll take care to strain the mess. How shall we have them for the first, boys?" asked Frank.

"I'm just hankering for scalloped oysters, but perhaps a stew would be easier to start with. We have the unsweetened milk, you know, and they say that answers first rate. How are you on that, Frank?"

"I can manage it first rate. Are you fond of a stew, Will?"

"Yes. I like them any way. But I was watching Jerry out there. What under the sun is he doing?"

Frank cast a quick glance out over the water.

"He's got a fish on, and it seems to be a big one, too!" he exclaimed.

"Why, it's pulling his boat around like fun! Look at that, will you? Say! be careful, Jerry, or overboard you go!" shrieked Will.

"There! He's headed this way, now, and going faster than ever! I never saw such a thing before, in all my life! What can it be, Frank?" cried Bluff, excited.

"I don't know for certain, but I'd venture to say he's fast to a shark!" answered Frank, hurrying to the side of the motor-boat to see better.

"A shark! Great Caesar's ghost! What will become of him? Why, the brute is carrying our pard off! There he goes, faster and faster, and headed straight out toward the open gulf! Jerry, let him go!" called Will in his excitement.

Jerry, in the little cockleshell of a dinghy, was whirling past as this cry rang out. He turned to wave a hand at his chums, and they heard him singing:

"A life on the ocean wave for me, my boys!"



CHAPTER XII

THE BREAKDOWN OF THE MOTOR

"Say! he's going off, dead sure!" exclaimed Will, in distress.

"He certainly seems to be having a free ride out to sea," remarked Frank.

"But that little craft will upset, and let him drown, Frank! Can't you stop him from such mad capers?" continued the other.

Frank put his hands up to his mouth in such fashion that they formed a sort of megaphone, and allowed his voice to carry far.

"I say, Jerry!" he bawled.

"Hello!" came faintly from the onrushing fisherman, who was sitting in such fashion as to properly balance his small pumpkin-seed-shaped craft as it sped over the water, so rapidly as to leave a sheet of white foam behind.

"Cut loose! Danger!" shouted Frank.

"Did he hear you, Frank?" asked Will anxiously.

"I guess so. Anyhow, he seems to be moving toward the bow, where his line is fast. I hope he has a knife with him, that's all," replied Frank, straining his eyes to see what was going on, for the sun had set, and already dusk was just commencing to gather over the water.

"He always carries one in his fishing bag," declared Bluff, not a little alarmed himself over this new source of danger, so utterly foreign to anything they had ever experienced before.

"There! He's done it! Hurrah!" shouted Will in relief.

"I bet he hated to let that thing go!" said Bluff, who knew the determined nature of the fisherman full well.

"And he's lost his line, and the hook, too," commented Will.

"That's of little consequence, for there are plenty more where they came from. I'm glad he was sensible enough not to carry the joke too far," observed Frank.

Jerry came paddling slowly back. Apparently he wanted to continue his fishing, but his good sense told him the hour was really too late.

"Talk to me about your toboggan slides! What could compare with that jolly old dash? Peary wasn't in it with me. I've heard of boats pulled by dolphins, but give me a shark every time for a racer. I'm only sorry I had to cut loose so soon," he said as he came aboard.

"I see you have one mullet left, Jerry. After supper we'll get out a couple of lines, and fish from the motor-boat. Perhaps we can pick up a channel bass or a weakfish, which I am told they call a sea trout down here."

"A good idea, Frank. I'll just get the lines ready while you look after supper. Glad to see Bluff managed to find his oysters. Perhaps we'll have a rest now, and he'll quit sighing after the same. But they look fine and dandy, too."

The boys did not wonder so much now at the size of the hooks they had found in Cousin Archie's assortment of war material, each of them fastened on a heavy but pliable brass snell, and with copper wire instead of thread. Florida sea fishing requires such heavy tackle, because one is never certain whether he may hook a forty-pound channel bass or a shark, and an ordinary hook would be quickly torn loose.

The oyster stew turned out well. Every one was loud in praise of its splendid qualities, and Bluff was given to understand that they did not care how often he supplied the larder with a pail of fresh bivalves.

He did not seem just quite so eager to promise, and Frank suspected that those nasty little cuts on his fingers were beginning to be painful.

The supper over, the boys sat around, taking it easy, and looking out upon the open space where they knew the mysterious gulf lay, about which they had read so much in the past.

Once they saw lights moving along, which must certainly have belonged to some sort of craft, either a steamer bound for New Orleans, or else some private steam yacht, the owner of which was cruising in these sub-tropical waters for pleasure.

Jerry had cast out a line from the bow and a second one from the stern. As the depth of water was good, it did not much matter how far from shore the bait lay.

"Hope something gets hold before we turn in," he said, after carrying out his part of the program.

"Yes; fresh fish for breakfast wouldn't taste bad," remarked Bluff.

"Bah! That's the only thing you think of, Bluff. Now, if you had any genuine sporting blood in your veins it would be the last thing you bothered about. Let me shoot the game, or catch the fish, and I don't care who eats them," said Jerry.

"All the same, I noticed that you passed up your dish for a second helping of stew," remarked the other instantly.

"Pure philanthropy, my dear boy, that's why I did that," answered Jerry.

"Huh! How do you make that out?" demanded Bluff.

"Why, you see, I was afraid you'd make yourself sick eating so much, and out of the goodness of my heart I sacrificed my better feelings in order to save you."

Bluff said nothing, but the grunt he gave was deeply significant of skepticism.

While they were talking, a while later, Jerry suddenly gave utterance to a whoop, and sprang to where one of the lines was fastened. This he began dragging in, although it seemed to take considerable effort.

"He's a dandy, all right! Frank, get Cousin Archie's gaff hook, and stand ready to yank him aboard when I get him alongside!" he called.

This was finally accomplished, and with considerable splashing a magnificent bronze-backed channel bass, weighing at least twenty pounds, was captured.

The boys were delighted. Here was a new treat, indeed. In comparison with the trout and black bass that had, up to now, constituted their only game fish, this was tremendous. Still, later on, Frank was satisfied that a one-pound black bass, held with a light fly-rod, could give more sport to the square inch than any fish in Florida waters.

There was nothing more doing up to the time they went to bed. In the morning they found the hook gone from the other line. Frank said they must have caught a shark, or else another large bass, which, in twisting about, had broken the tackle. Still, they were not sorry, for they would not have known what to do with more.

"That's what I call fresh fish," said Bluff, as he sighed because he could not eat another bite of the tempting dish.

"It does go pretty good," admitted Jerry, with a wink toward Frank.

Sometimes Frank was of the opinion that the name of "Bluff" had been bestowed on the wrong fellow, for Jerry was inclined to play the part much more than the one who bore the odium that went with the name.

"Now to get under way and move out on the gulf!" exclaimed Will, in some excitement, as the breakfast things were put away and the deck cleared for action.

Frank had taken a careful observation, and announced that there did not seem to be any reason why they should linger there longer. His chart showed him a refuge some fifteen miles along the coast, to the east, where they could run in should it be deemed necessary. If the weather kept good they could speed another fifteen miles, and make a second lagoon sheltered behind outlying islands.

These things are easy enough to plan. It sometimes happens, however, that in attempting to carry them out a hitch occurs which no one has dreamed possible. Now, it might come in the shape of sudden winds that kick up a tremendous sea; again, there might be a breakdown of the motor, as may happen with any boat, no matter how well built.

They made a flying start, and all the boys were thrilled when they found themselves far out from land, and headed along the coast, toward the east. Later on, of course, their line of travel would be south, as the coast turned and they drew nearer to their destination, Cedar Keys.

Everything seemed to be working nicely, and they had soon put half a dozen miles behind them. Frank was attending to the motor, while the others lay about on the deck, watching the heavens or the surrounding water.

Not a breath of wind seemed to be blowing, and the sun came down with summer heat, causing coats to be discarded by all hands.

"Hey! What's that? Where's the blooming shore gone?" suddenly exclaimed Bluff.

Frank raised his head at the cry.

"It's a fog coming up!" he said uneasily, for that was the one thing he had dreaded most of all while out upon the open waters of the big gulf, and no haven near at hand.

With incredible swiftness the blanket seemed to sweep over the surface of the sea. In ten minutes they were completely surrounded, and could not discern any object fifty feet away.

"This is awkward, fellows; but perhaps it may not last long. Meanwhile, we will have to steer by the compass. All of you listen to hear the wash of the rollers on the beach, if we happen to get in too close," said Frank, trying to keep calm.

They continued along for half an hour, under reduced speed. Still the fog remained as dense as ever. Frank was wondering if they might not pass the first haven without knowing it. He thought it was very unfortunate that such a thing as this should occur on their very first day out.

"Hello! What are you stopping for?" demanded Jerry suddenly, as the sound of the bustling little motor ceased and the boat slowed down.

Frank was bending low over the machinery.

"I don't know, fellows, but something has happened to the motor. That stop was none of my doing; but I hope it won't amount to much," he said cheerfully.

The other three looked at each other uneasily. With the motor broken down, and surrounded by a treacherous fog, out there on the big gulf, their situation was one well calculated to cause alarm.



CHAPTER XIII

LOST IN THE FOG

"What's to be done?" asked Will presently.

"I'm looking the motor over, first of all. Perhaps it's a small matter, and I can fix it up. Sometimes these new machines act a bit cranky. Want of oil will even bring about trouble. Jerry, you take a look with me. Two heads are often better than one," said Frank.

"Can we do anything?" questioned Bluff.

"Just try and see if you can hear a sound like water washing up on the beach. We couldn't land with this boat as though it were smaller."

"That's a fact. Say! if we were in our canoes, now, how easy it would be to run up on that same beach, lift the jolly little craft out, and go ashore! As it is, we must stay afloat, and take the chances of a storm coming up."

"Storm!" echoed Will, looking hastily around. "Oh, come, now! You don't think there can be any danger of that happening, do you, Frank?"

"Hardly. If a little breeze rises, it may carry this beastly old fog away, and then we can see where we are. Meanwhile, Jerry and I will try to find out what it is that makes our motor balk just when we want it most."

They sat there for a long while, Bluff and Will looking this way and that, to see if there was any object near by; but only that heavy blanket of sea fog surrounded them.

"Do you hear the roll of the water on the shore still?" asked Frank finally.

"I haven't for some time, now," admitted Bluff.

"And I was just wondering, as I sat here and watched the water as it flowed past, whether we were not drifting out further all the time," suggested Will.

"Say! what makes you think that? Seems to me you're always scaring up ghosts, and making things look blacker than they are," grumbled Bluff.

"Well, you just watch that water passing. What does that mean, eh? Something is moving all the while, and it's either the boat or the tide," claimed Will.

Frank stuck his head over the side and gave a look.

"He's right about it," was his speedy comment. "The tide is carrying us out all the time, and that's why you don't hear the sound of the rollers on the sand!"

"Wow! You're giving it to us good and hard now. That sounds like trouble. This old gulf is some wide, I know, and it'll take us quite a spell to cross the duck pond at this rate!" exclaimed Bluff in dismay.

"Can't either of you find out what's wrong with the engine?" asked Will.

"We think we've guessed it, and we're working on that line now; but it may take some little time, so don't get impatient," returned Frank.

If he felt any alarm himself, his manner did not indicate it; but then Frank had a faculty for disguising his feelings when it would add to the comfort of his chums.

So the old state of affairs continued, he and Jerry with their heads bent low over the machinery, and the others sitting there on deck, exchanging doleful words from time to time, and surveying that gray blanket that wrapped them in.

"How far do you think we've gone from shore?" asked Will finally.

"I was just trying to figure out from the way that water runs past. It's going faster than we are, you see. I should say we might have drifted several miles since the motor broke down," replied Bluff soberly.

"I wonder how deep it is here?"

"Say! what do you talk that way for? Think we'll have to swim for it?" exclaimed Bluff, in new alarm.

"Oh! I hope not. You see, I was thinking that if we could reach bottom it might be worth while to anchor here. That would save us from getting any further from the shore, at any rate," replied the other.

"Frank! Listen to what Will says!" called Bluff eagerly.

"What is that?" And Frank's head came into view.

"He says we might try and see how deep it is here; that perhaps the anchor rope is long enough to reach bottom, and we'd stop drifting out to sea."

"Good for Will! That's a bright idea, now. Suppose you two fellows try and see if it will work? Jerry and I seem to be getting on, and there's hope that we'll have things moving presently."

Accordingly, Bluff took up the anchor, which lay forward, and gently dropped it into the smooth water. Then he allowed the rope to pass slowly through his hands.

"Why, it's on bottom already! I don't believe it's ten feet deep away out here, Frank!" he said hurriedly.

"Yes, I've always read that it was shallow along this coast. That makes it more dangerous for vessels of any draught, for they're apt to go aground. Fasten the cable to that cleat, Bluff. Make it secure, for we don't want to lose the whole outfit overboard," remarked Frank.

"That feels a whole heap better," remarked Bluff, settling down again.

"Yes, for we're not moving out further all the time, anyway. Hang this old fog! Why did it want to come up on our very first day, and before we had become used to our strange surroundings?"

"Well, we've got to just take things as we meet 'em, as Frank does. You notice that he seldom finds fault with the way things happen; just puts his shoulder to the wheel and lifts it out of the rut," remarked Bluff.

"Yes, I know that; but every fellow doesn't happen to be built just the same way. I wish I could take things as cool as he does; but I never even snap off a picture without feeling more or less excitement quivering my nerves."

"I don't suppose, now, you could get a decent picture of this?" Bluff suggested.

"What! The fog? Bless your innocent heart, no! What do you think it would be like—just a dreary blank plate. You can't see anything, so how could it show up in a picture?" jeered Will.

"I wonder some bright genius hasn't discovered some sort of magic glasses that will let a fellow see through fog? What a blessing they would be to sailors, and the pilots of ferryboats in New York harbor," observed Bluff thoughtfully.

"Suppose you devote your spare time to solving that riddle? Listen! Was that a shout then?"

"Sounded like it to me; but who would be shouting out here in the fog?" replied Bluff scornfully.

"Come, now. We may not be the only pebbles on the beach. Perhaps there are others marooned out here in the fog, and they may be shouting just to keep their courage up, or for some other purpose," replied Will stoutly.

"Well, the fog won't last much longer, anyway, and that's a comfort."

"How do you know that?" asked Frank, looking up.

"Because I just felt a puff of air. The wind's going to rise, and that means an end to the fog," replied Bluff confidently.

"Well, I only hope we get this motor fixed before it rises too much," and once more Frank gave his full attention to his work on the obstinate engine.

Bluff and Will looked uneasily at each other.

"What does he mean?" asked the latter.

"I think he means that if the wind came up strong the sea would rise, and we couldn't hold out here with our anchor," replied Bluff.

"In which case?"

"We'd either be blown out to sea, and be in danger of foundering, or else driven toward the shore, perhaps to stick half a mile off and be wrecked."

"I don't like either of those propositions any too well. Oh! I hope they get the motor working! I'm so nervous I feel like shouting; and it seems to me I can hear something moving all the time," went on Will.

"Something moving?" echoed his companion, looking at him as if he wondered whether the other could be going out of his mind.

"Yes, over there to windward, which, I take it, is about due west just now. Hark! Didn't you hear that?—and close at hand, too! What can it be?"

"I don't know. Something is moving through the water! I can hear a gurgle and a creaking noise. Do you think it could be a boat bearing down on us? Oh! what if they ran us down in this fog? I say, Frank!" called Bluff, also excited by this time.

"Well, what now?" demanded the other, again appearing in view.

"There's something doing over here. Will thinks it may be a boat coming down on us, full tilt, and liable to grind us to powder."

Frank listened for just three seconds. Then he made a dive for a locker, as if he thought the situation more or less desperate.

"What's he after?" exclaimed Will, amazed.

"That blooming conch-shell horn of Cousin Archie's. He's going to let those chaps know there's another boat out here, and that they don't own the earth, that's what."

And that was just what Frank meant to do. Seizing the conch-shell, from which the point had been cut, he blew a piercing blast that could have been heard a mile off. Again and again he sent out the warning sound, and presently an answering blast came through the dense fog, now swirling madly with the increasing breeze.

"They're right on us! There! I can just make out the top of a mast! Frank, they will run us down!" shouted Will, while the other continued to blow his horn with renewed vim, and the advancing gulf sponger came plunging straight toward the anchored Jessamine! It was a thrilling moment for the four chums.



CHAPTER XIV

A CRY ACROSS THE LAGOON

"Keep off, there!" shouted Bluff.

"Luff her, you!" howled Jerry.

"Too-oo-t! too-oo-t!"

Will was the only one of the quartet unable to give utterance to his feelings. He could only cower there, and gape, while the unknown sailing craft was bearing down straight for the little motor-boat, and apparently bound to smash her in two.

Those on the sharpie may have been extremely reckless in thus spreading their canvas to the favoring wind before the fog had lifted enough to allow a decent lookout, but they had some thought for their own safety, however little they cared for that of others.

Hearing the clamor dead ahead, the fellow at the tiller managed to suddenly shift the course of the advancing boat, and just in time. They swept past the Jessamine with hardly a yard to spare.

The staring and shivering boys caught a glimpse of several rough men on board the passing sharpie, and what they thought was a girl's head thrust out of the cabin.

Some loud and vigorous language was carried back to the ears of the chums as the fleeing sharpie vanished once more in the fog wreaths.

"Talk to me about that!" exclaimed Jerry indignantly. "They nearly run us down through their own carelessness, and then revile us for getting in the way!"

"Some people never believe there can be two sides to any question. They are always in the right," commented Frank.

He showed little signs of any excitement; yet, did his chums but know it, there was much of thanksgiving in his heart over the narrow escape.

Once again he and Jerry set to work at the stubborn motor, while the others endeavored to keep a sharp lookout. Will, in particular, was holding his head cocked on one side, as though eager to catch the first faint sound of any advancing vessel from windward.

From time to time Bluff amused himself in making dreadful noises with the conch-shell horn, for one has to learn how to sound this before being able to send a ringing blast that can be heard an almost incredible distance.

"Anyhow, the fog's getting thinner all the while," remarked Will joyfully.

"That's a fact," said Frank, glancing up from his work.

A minute later there was a whirr.

"Hurrah! She works!" shouted Jerry.

"Thank goodness! Then we're saved!" echoed Will.

"Get up your anchor, Bluff," remarked Frank quietly.

This Bluff did with cheerful alacrity, and immediately the little motor-boat began to churn the water with her accustomed zeal.

"How long had we been sitting there?" asked Jerry.

"Just two hours," was Frank's reply as he consulted his little nickel watch.

"And now what?" demanded Will.

"We'll move in toward the shore somewhat, and wait for the fog to sweep away. When that happens perhaps we can get our bearings, and find out whether we've passed our first intended refuge or not," returned Frank.

"But you think we have?" queried Bluff.

"Yes; and consequently, as we don't want to turn around and go back, we might as well head for the second harbor."

"What sort of a place is that?" asked Bluff, always seeking information.

"As near as I can make out from the chart, it is a lagoon formed by a long island that stands as a shelter between the open gulf and the shore. There are many such along the gulf coast, and small vessels are in the habit of running behind them when the weather outside gets stormy."

"Hear! hear! Frank's already showing signs of becoming a real old salt. Look there, fellows! Oh! it's gone, now!" cried Jerry, pointing.

"I had just a glimpse of it. That was land, all right, Jerry; and perhaps we'd better alter our course a bit now, heading due east so as to skirt along about this distance out."

So saying, Frank gave the wheel a little whirl, and the motor-boat, in response, curved gracefully a few points to the starboard.

"Don't she run like a duck?" said Bluff enthusiastically.

"There's the land again, boys! No question but what the fog is being driven off by the wind," remarked Frank.

They could see the shore from time to time, and every one realized that the enshrouding curtain was fast vanishing.

"But, my! isn't it getting rough?" exclaimed Will.

His remark caused the others to look at the speaker.

Frank needed only one glance to tell him the story. Will was already beginning to feel the dreadful nausea of seasickness. The boys were accustomed to spending much time on the water, in their canoes, but little Lake Camalot, at home, and the big Mexican Gulf, were two entirely separate affairs. Indeed, there was only one among them who did not experience at least a trifling indisposition before this first day's voyaging on the salt water was done, and that was Frank himself.

When the fog had entirely vanished the scene was quite picturesque, with the shore and its palmetto trees standing out beyond the heaving billows; but, alack and alas! the artist of the expedition, for once in his life, seemed not to care a picayune whether he ever took another snapshot again or not.

Even Bluff's raillery failed to enthuse him, and the look he cast toward the shore was most pitiful and woebegone.

Seeing this, Frank took pity on his sick chum.

"Hand me that camera, Bluff; and you, Jerry, grab hold of this wheel here. Keep her just as we are, and dodge the big waves as they come, or else we'll all get a beautiful ducking."

Saying this, Frank waited until a good chance came, and then snapped off a couple of views of the turbulent scene.

"Thank you, Frank, for I couldn't have stood up to do it, for a kingdom. I reckon I'll never forget this experience, and every time I see those pictures I'll have a qualm. Oh! I feel so sick, fellows!" wailed Will.

They laid him, groaning, on a blanket, under the protecting hood. No one cared to stay with him more than a minute, for, truth to tell, neither Jerry nor Bluff were in a condition to say how long it might be before they would be feeling just as badly as their chum. Fresh air was invaluable under such circumstances.

Frank, as they boomed along in this boisterous manner, was watching the shore. He expected at any time, now, to discover signs of the refuge which he had mentioned to the others, though it would require sharp eyesight to distinguish the island from the background of shore line.

"What time is it, Frank?" asked Bluff finally.

"Oh, about three, I should say. Time has slipped away, you know."

"What! And nobody ever thought of eating a bite about noon?" exclaimed Jerry.

"Eating!"

Bluff uttered only the one word, but his horrified expression struck Frank as being so comical that he roared with laughter.

"I give you my word, fellows, that this is the very first time since I've known Bluff that the idea of a meal seemed repulsive to him," he declared.

"Please don't, fellows!" came from Will, under the shelter; and in sympathy for him the subject was dropped then and there.

Jerry interested himself in keeping watch with Frank. Between them they managed to decide just where the expected island held forth. The course was altered enough to bring them closer, yet at the same time avoid falling in the trough of the great waves, that might have capsized the motor-boat, once they got a fair sweep at her, broadside on.

"It's the island, all right!" exclaimed Bluff presently, as they drew nearer.

"And we will have to take some chances in getting back of the shelter. You see how the wind blows, and the waves run. Now, please don't bother me. It will require some close calculating to just scrape in without a disaster."

Frank set himself to the task. Mentally, he hoped most fervently that the motor would not take a notion to act contrary just when so much depended on its stability and faithfulness.

Gradually the island began to stand out more distinctly, on their right.

"We're making it, I do believe!" yelled Bluff.

"Why, sure; and the water is getting less rocky already," declared Jerry.

"There you go, copying Frank's salty ways. But I'm not going to dispute it now. I'm only too glad of the chance of resting on smooth water again, whether it happens to be dusty or rocky," avowed Bluff, looking cheerful again.

Even poor Will managed to drag himself out from his shelter to take a dismal, though eager, look. He had the appearance of one who had passed through a long siege of illness, such is the rapidity with which this dreadful malady downs its victims.

"There's one boat already anchored behind the island further on," remarked Jerry.

"I was looking at that fellow," remarked Frank, "and unless I'm mistaken, that's the identical sharpie which came so close to running us down in the fog a little while back."

"You don't say!" exclaimed Will, beginning to grow interested.

It is wonderful how quickly one recovers from an attack of this sort when smoother water is reached. Will was commencing to lose a little of his ghastly whiteness already, while Bluff had started to sigh, as though he thought of supper.

After they had found a safe asylum behind the island Frank thought it best to anchor. He did not care to go too near that sharpie, for the recollection of the three rough spongers or fishermen on board deterred him from wanting to renew their acquaintance.

Bluff immediately bailed out the little dinghy, and set himself to the task of hunting along the shore for oysters. They saw him dipping his arm down again and again, which would indicate that his quest was proving successful. Even Jerry declared that he was now becoming fairly ravenous, and could enjoy a solid meal.

"It's going to be a gloomy old night, fellows. Clouds gathering there in the southwest. From what I've read about the signs, we may have one of those northers boom down on us before morning," remarked Frank.

They were sitting around, enjoying the supper, as he made this remark. Evening was close at hand. The sun had set in what seemed to be an angry glow, with yellow predominating.

"Are we safe right here, if the wind chops around, and comes out of the north?" asked cautious Will.

"Yes, for that arm of the land will shield us all right," declared Jerry.

So the night set in. Darkness gathered unusually early, it seemed to the chums. They had made all arrangements looking to the raising of the complete automobile cover of the boat in case of a downpour.

"I guess there's nothing to fear from the elements," remarked Frank finally.

"Can there be from any other source?" demanded Will, quick to take the alarm from the tone of Frank's voice.

"I bet Frank's thinking of those three blooming pirates who wanted to smash us out on the big water," declared Bluff quickly.

"I confess they were in my mind; but, so far, they've paid no attention to us, and we're a quarter of a mile away from that sharpie. Don't bother your head about them, Will. Of course, we'll keep a watch, as usual, though."

"You just make up your mind we will, now. I didn't like the looks of the crowd a little bit. Some of these wild waterdogs along the gulf coast, they told me, wouldn't object to a little piratical business on the sly when—"

Jerry stopped short. Over the water, from the direction of the mysterious anchored sharpie, had come a strange cry, that seemed to be in the voice of either a woman or a child. The four chums sat there and stared at each other in consternation, for it seemed as though that pitiful cry was for help!



CHAPTER XV

A VISIT TO THE MYSTERIOUS SHARPIE

Jerry made a reach for his gun, that happened to be hanging from a couple of hooks close by his hand.

"Oh! What was that?" asked Will in a trembling voice.

"Sounded to me like a child. I reckon they've got a boy along with 'em, and the brutes are whaling him!" growled Bluff.

"It's a shame, then, that's what!" declared Will, showing unwonted anger, for, as a usual thing, he seldom gave way to his emotions in this line.

They listened for a time in silence. Jerry declared that he felt sure he heard a sound not unlike a child crying, but the heavy voices of the men drowned this.

"Can't we do anything?" asked Will.

"Well, we're only a lot of boys, and they are big strapping men. Probably they've got the law on their side, too," suggested Frank, shaking his head.

"What do you mean by that, Frank?" queried Bluff indignantly.

"Why, the chances are ten to one that the boy, if it is a boy, must belong to one of the men—his own son, I mean—and you know, Mr. Lawyer, that a fellow has to be mighty careful how he steps in between a man and his son. That same law allows even a brute a certain right to punish a rebellious child," said Frank.

So they talked it over a long time. Apparently, nothing could be done that night to ascertain the cause of the outbreak. All was silent now in the direction of the sharpie, and not even a riding light marked the spot where the boat lay.

Frank had recommended that they put out their own lights, all but one lantern, which was to be fastened in such a way that it would mark the anchorage of the little modern motor-boat.

"It'll be an invitation to the sharks to visit us," remarked Bluff.

"Not at all. If they mean to drop in on us during the night, the presence of one lantern, or its absence, will make mighty little difference," responded Frank.

"Do you really think they'll do anything?" asked Will pointedly.

"No, I don't. In the first place, they must know that there's quite a crowd of us aboard. Then such boats as this are apt to carry a few guns along. Just sleep in peace, Will. The chances are ten to one the only thing apt to arouse us to-night may be the howl of a norther," said Frank soothingly.

About ten o'clock both Bluff and Will began yawning.

"Go to bed, you fellows. Jerry and I will manage the first and second watches between us. If we want help, we'll knock you up," observed Frank.

He gave Jerry a wink at the same time, as if to notify him to remain up; and the observant Jerry understood that Frank had a card of some sort up his sleeve.

"Say, what's in the wind?" he asked in a whisper, when they were left alone.

Frank put his finger on his lips, as he said in an equally guarded tone:

"Not so loud. I don't want them to hear."

"Then you really expect trouble with those rascally spongers?" demanded his chum.

"That depends. But I'll tell you what I've decided to do, Jerry."

"Go on; I'm all ears."

"After a bit, I'm going to take the dinghy and paddle over to that sharpie. Somehow or other, I feel that there is some one there in need of assistance. Perhaps it's none of our business, and I'm silly to even think of running such a risk, but something seems to impel me to go; I can't tell you just what."

"Not alone, Frank? Why not take me along, too?" pleaded Jerry.

"No. One can get along in that stumpy little boat fine, while with two it is a clumsy affair. You know that. I only mean to hover near, in the darkness, and find out, if possible, what's doing. Perhaps I may not go closer than fifty feet—unless something happens!"

Jerry did not insist. He realized that what Frank said was the truth, for he had had experience with that same cranky little craft when a second party occupied a place in it.

They sat and talked in low tones for half an hour. Frank made all his plans, and arranged with his chum a set of signals by means of which they might communicate with each other even while both were unseen.

"It's getting darker all the while, I do believe. Sure you know where to find that sharpie?" remarked Jerry as he saw his comrade beginning to make a move.

"I located her by some palmetto trees that stand up high above all others on the key there. Unless they've changed their anchorage, which is unlikely, as we would have heard the noise, I can go straight to the spot," replied Frank confidently.

"Taking your gun along, of course?"

"I think it wise. Those are tough fellows, and there's no telling what might happen. Better be on the safe side," remarked the other sagely.

"Well, I'm going to keep my rifle close by, I tell you. And Bluff has his Gatling gun on the hooks, where he can get hold of it in a hurry. But I hope we don't have any need of them," continued Jerry as he assisted Frank to climb over into the little dinghy astern, where the light of the lantern did not penetrate.

"Be careful how you shoot, at any time, and listen for my signal. I'd hate to be peppered with shot, or get a bullet in my shoulder from my chums."

"Oh, you can depend on me to keep a sharp lookout; and no danger of any accident like that. I never act on impulse, like Bluff. Good-by, and good luck, Frank!"

The dinghy dropped astern with the flowing tide, and was immediately swallowed up in the gloom, which, as Jerry truly said, seemed more dense than ever as the clouds gathered overhead and shut out even the light of the stars.

Frank took up the paddle and set to work. He was by this time something of an adept in the use of a spruce blade, as most canoeists become in time. That is, he could propel a boat silently, not a swirl or a dripping blade betraying the labor that sent it on. Guides in the Maine woods had taught Frank how to approach a deer at night time on a lake without hardly rippling the water.

In this wise he approached the spot where he knew he would find the mysterious sharpie anchored.

Presently he could see the tops of its tall masts against the dark sky; but only for the fact that he was looking for this, it would have passed unnoticed.

There was not a light about the boat. Listening, Frank could hear no sound at first, but as he drew silently nearer he fancied he caught what seemed to be an occasional deep sigh. Then, as his eyes sought the outlines of the little gulf vessel he detected what seemed to be a bowed figure at the stern.

It was from this point that the sighs seemed to come, and he fancied that the huddled-up object must be the figure of a boy, placed on watch while the three big hulking men slept in the cabin near by.

Now he caught the sound of heavy breathing, bordering on snores. From the fact that these suggestive noises were partly muffled, he believed they came from inside the sharpie's cabin.

Foot by foot Frank found himself nearing the stern of the sharpie. He did not need to use the paddle at all, for the current was gently wafting him along in just the direction he wished to go.

So softly did he come that when he reached the sharpie's counter all he had to do was to just put out his hand and fend off.

He now saw that it was really and truly a boy sitting there. The other seemed to be not over ten years of age, judging from his size. He was barefooted, and without either hat or coat, though the night was getting cold now.

Several times he sighed deeply, and once Frank was sure he heard what seemed to be a stifled sob, as though he would have cried had he dared.

Obeying an impulse he could not control, Frank put his hand on the other's arm, at the same time whispering softly:

"Don't make a noise, please. I'm from the other boat, and I want to help you, if I can. You may trust me, my boy, to the limit!"

The crouching figure started, and Frank saw a small face bent down close to his own; then a trembling hand caught his, and there came a whisper:

"Oh! if you only could get me out of this scrape! I'll die if I stay here! They kick me and beat me terribly! Please take me away, mister!"

Frank's first impulse was to draw the lad into the dinghy, then his natural caution caused him to hesitate.

"Who are you, boy?" he whispered.

"Joe Abercrombie; and I guess it's near killed my mother, because they think I run away," came the quick answer.

"Is your father aboard this boat?"

"I ain't got any father. He's dead long time ago. I live with my mother and sister down at Cedar Keys. Please get me off here, mister! I'll do anything for you, if you only can!" the boy kept on saying, and unconsciously raising his voice in his excitement.

Frank's determination was taken. He would accept the chances of trouble and assist this poor little chap, whose condition seemed so miserable, as the slave of the trio of big, rough spongers.

Before he could say another word, or draw the boy into his dinghy, a gruff voice came booming out of the cabin:

"Hey! Who yer talkin' to out thar, younker? Wake up, fellers! I reckon we're boarded by some reptiles! Hank! Carlos! Git at 'em!"

"Oh!" exclaimed the lad piteously. "They've heard us! They're coming out to kill you! Don't stop for me, but go!"

But Frank Langdon was not built that way.



Chapter XVI

JOE

With one sweep of his arm Frank drew the little fellow into the dinghy.

Then he snatched up his paddle, and dipped it deeply into the flood. The corklike boat answered instantly to the demand, and backed away from the side of the anchored sharpie.

Even though but a few seconds had passed, the racket aboard the boat had become tremendous by now. The men were shouting at each other as they groped around in the dark for the boy.

Frank knew that the very sounds they made were apt to assist him in his escape, for they helped to drown what little noise he was compelled to make in his quick and positive work with the paddle.

Then one of them must have reached the conclusion that the boy had been kidnapped by some unseen visitor, coming in another boat.

"Keep still, you fools, an' listen!" he shouted.

They seemed to guess his reason, for the chorus of loud voices ceased. Frank also stopped paddling, momentarily. He hoped the listening spongers would be unable to locate him in the darkness.

"Have they any small boat?" he whispered in the ear of the cowering boy.

"No. It broke loose three days ago, in a squall," came the reply.

"Bully!"

That one word expressed all the gratitude that was in Frank's heart. It seemed as though fortune was acting mighty kindly toward the rescuing expedition.

Just then there came a flash and a sharp report. One of the men had fired in the direction he believed the passing boat to be lying.

The bullet splashed in the water, and seemed to go humming over the surface of the lagoon. Then a shout came from the sharpie:

"I seen 'em then! Hey! You thar! Come back with that kid, or it'll be the worse for ye! D'ye hear?"

But Frank, instead of wasting his breath in replying, was once more paddling industriously. He had changed his course, in the hope that should a second bullet follow the first, it might not touch either himself or his charge.

Just as he anticipated, there was a second shot, followed by half a dozen more, seemingly fired at random.

No damage resulted, and Frank believed the incident was closed, at least as far as immediate results went. He now headed directly for the motor-boat, the swinging lantern guiding him.

Those on the sharpie could be heard talking loudly, as though endeavoring to get the truth of the affair, and doubtless making terrible threats as to what they would do to the audacious invader later on.

Frank gave the signal agreed on with Jerry, and in another minute he was lifting his charge aboard the anchored boat.

"Don't ask questions now, fellows," he said, realizing that the others were all agog with excitement, and both Bluff and Will consumed with curiosity. "We must douse the glim, and in the dark change our anchorage. Then, if they come poking over here to-night, looking for us, they won't find anybody at home."

"Hear! hear!" muttered Jerry, who in an emergency always looked to Frank to do the right thing.

He immediately extinguished the light.

"Don't make the least noise, if you can help it. Get the anchor off the ground, but don't attempt to bring it aboard," continued Frank in a whisper.

"Going to start the motor?" asked Bluff.

"Certainly not! It's shallow here, and the push-pole will have to move us along." Saying which, Frank possessed himself of the useful article in question, without which no small boat ever cruises in Florida waters.

"I hope we don't get mixed up, and run afoul of those chaps," breathed Will.

"I've got them located, all right. We'll go in closer to the island, that's all. Perhaps they won't come at all until daylight."

"But if they do, Frank?" asked Bluff.

"We've got a right to protect ourselves, and we will," declared the other between his set teeth, for he was now silently pushing with the pole, Jerry having raised the anchor at the bow.

This sort of thing kept up for ten minutes. By that time Frank knew they were as close to the shore as prudence allowed.

"Let the anchor sink slowly, Jerry, and don't make a sound, if you can avoid it," said Frank.

"It's already on the bottom. Why, we're in only four feet of water here!" came back the whispered answer.

"Now what about the boy you pulled off that craft?" asked Bluff.

"Come here, Joe," said Frank kindly.

Instantly he felt a hand clasping his eagerly, and a boyish voice exclaimed softly:

"Oh! I wanter thank you ever so much for what you did, and my mom'll say the same thing when she sees you!"

"That's all right, Joe. All of us are only boys, older than you, of course, but ready to hold out a helping hand to a poor chap in trouble. Suppose you tell us, in a whisper now, what brought you aboard that sharpie. Who are those three men, and how did you happen to be sailing with them?"

"They're Hank, and Carlos, the Cuban, and my Uncle Ben," came the reply.

"Hello! He's got an uncle aboard!" said Jerry uneasily.

"But he's the worst of the whole lot. He beats me, and calls me bad names. My mother is afraid of him. She didn't want to let me go on this trip with Uncle Ben, but he just made me. His name is Baxter. You see, he's her brother-in-law, not her real brother. I always called him uncle, but he ain't, either. I hate him, and I'd sooner die than go back there again!"

"Don't be afraid, my boy. We have no intention of letting them get you again. It happens that we're bound for Cedar Keys ourselves, and we'll see you safely home. Your mother lives there, you say?" went on Frank, patting the trembling little hand, with its hard palm, that told of much hard work for so young a lad.

"Yes, sir; but we're awful poor. We used to live in Pensacola when dad was on his job, but he got killed in his engine long ago. Then mother had a chance to do something in Cedar Keys, and we came on. But things went wrong, sister got sick, and it's been hard work to get enough to eat. Still, my mother never complains; she ain't one of that kind; and a feller just has to be up and doin' somethin' to help out. That was why I came along when Uncle Ben promised good wages, and without letting her know."

It was a whole life story in a nutshell. Frank had never come so closely in touch with tragedy before. He continued to squeeze the hand he held, while deep down in his heart the generous fellow was making resolutions that would bring a little of sunshine to the Abercrombie home when they landed in the key city.

"Well, we'll have lots of time to talk all these things over to-morrow, and the other days to come. The rest of you pile off again, and leave me here to sit out my watch. I promise to awaken you if anything threatens us," he said finally.

A place was easily found for little Joe. Indeed, as Bluff remarked in a whisper, the motorboat seemed capable of expansion.

"Just like an elevator or an electric car, there's always room for just one more," was the way he put it.

Frank sat there, listening and thinking, for a couple of hours at least. There was no alarm. Once he thought he heard sounds such as might be made by the movement of a push-pole; but if so, the searching party failed to locate the anchored motor-boat in its new lodgings.

Jerry took his place a little later, and then Bluff wound up the night, Will being allowed to sleep in peace.

Frank was up at peep of dawn. The masts of the sharpie stood up plainly through the dim light, showing that apparently her anchorage had not been changed at all.

Signs of life were to be seen aboard, and smoke arising from the cabin gave evidence that the three rough spongers were getting their frugal breakfast. Doubtless this caused them to vent their anger anew, for it had been a part of the boy's work to cook.

"The anticipated storm petered out, anyway," remarked Jerry at his elbow.

"Which may be a good thing for us. Possibly we might want to get out of here in a hurry, although I'm averse to running away like a frightened duck," remarked Frank.

"I say stick it out, and give them tit for tat. We're armed, and can make a pretty good showing," declared Bluff, also turning up after hearing voices.

So they began preparations for breakfast, Frank keeping an eye on the sharpie meanwhile. He expected that the trio of spongers would not be likely to pull out without some show of threatening the four who comprised the crew of the motor-boat.

Joe proved to be a bright-faced lad, once the grime was removed, under the influence of salt-water soap and a rough towel. All of the outdoor chums were glad that they had found a chance to be of service to one in distress, for Joe insisted that he never could have stood the vile treatment he was receiving, and meant to run away at the very first opportunity.

They were just sitting down to breakfast when Will gave the alarm.

"They're pulling up anchor, fellows, and hoisting sail. From the appearance of things, we'd better look out for squalls," he announced.

Each of the other three quietly reached around and seized a gun. Will, not to be outdone, picked up the instrument with which he did most of his shooting, his beloved camera, and waited for a chance to snap off the ugly faces of the spongers.



CHAPTER XVII

STUCK ON AN OYSTER BAR

"Do you think they'll attack us, Joe?" asked Jerry as the sharpie began to head straight for the anchored motor-boat.

"No, I don't. Them fellers is big cowards, and when they see the guns they'll take it out in talking," came the prompt answer.

"I believe Joe is right. They must be cowards, or they'd never have abused a boy as they did him. He showed me a lot of bruises from kicks he's had," observed Frank, with a gleam in his eye and a look on his face that told of his detestation for the brute who could, in a temper, knock a child down.

"Say! Perhaps it might be just as well to get the anchor up, and start the motor, in case we wanted to move, anyway," remarked Bluff.

"A hunky idea!" echoed Jerry.

Frank himself agreed to it. So while Jerry hastened to get the mudhook aboard, Frank bent down over the motor. They heard him crank it, and then came the merry and suggestive hum that bespoke business.

"Now, if we wanted, we could go spinning away, and laugh at them," observed Will.

"But we don't intend to, all the same," said Frank quietly, making his appearance again, gun in hand. The boat had moved a length or so, and then floated on the smooth water of the lagoon.

A shout from the sharpie had told that the spongers believed they meant to run off, and at the same time one of them was seen flourishing a gun.

"Hold up, there, you rascals, you!" came across the water, and a shot followed, the bullet splashing close to the motor-boat.

"Don't you try that again, there, or we'll give you a broadside! Do you hear?" shouted Frank, as he and his chums lifted their array of weapons so that the men could easily see what they were up against.

The sharpie kept pushing on until close by. Then a sudden shifting of the rudder caused the boat with the tall masts to "come to" in the wind, with her dingy sails shivering as they hung there lifeless.

"We want that kid!" called a tall, gaunt man with a red beard.

"That's Uncle Ben!" exclaimed Joe, who was peeping over the gunwale.

"Well, you'll have to take it out in wanting, then, because you're not going to get him. Joe says you beat him. He prefers to stay with us, and we're going to take him home to his mother in Cedar Keys. Get that?" called Frank.

The three men conferred together for a minute or two.

"Say! my breakfast's getting cold! I wish they'd hurry," remarked Bluff.

Will was getting busy himself. The old familiar click announced that he had secured a picture of the three spongers at a time when they stood out plainly.

"Hey, you fellers! What yuh mean a-comin' an' stealin' my nephew out o' my boat? He signed for the cruise, he did. It's ag'in the law, what yuh did, an' yer liable ter git yerselves in trouble," the red-bearded man now called.

"We can stand it if you can. The marks on this boy will settle your case for you. Better go on about your business. We don't want any fight, but just make up your minds that if you start it we're going to shoot holes through every one of your crowd. That's enough talk. Now, twenty-three for yours!"

It was seldom that Frank used slang, but just then he was in want of a better expression by means of which to give vent to his feelings.

Bluff was already sitting down and eating, though he kept hold of his gun at the same time, like a true soldier on duty. The trio of spongers talked among themselves for a short time, then, with many harsh words, they pushed their boat around with a pole until the dingy canvas took the breeze again, after which they sailed away.

"A good riddance of bad rubbish," declared Bluff, with his mouth full of bacon; and the others voiced his sentiments exactly.

As for the boy, he was smiling as if tickled over the wonderful change that had come about in his fortunes. Frank, remembering the limp form squatting in the stern of the sharpie, so given up to despair and bodily anguish, could hardly believe that this bright-faced lad was the same.

They did not linger long after finishing breakfast.

While the weather remained favorable Frank thought they ought to be making further progress along their way. True, Cedar Keys was not so very far distant, but who could say what difficulties they might encounter from time to time?

"It will do to loiter when we've arrived within a dozen or two miles of the city," he remarked, and they all admitted the wisdom of his decision.

They went out the same way they had come in. Joe said it was safer, since the lagoon was exceedingly shallow at the east end of the island, and they stood to get aground if the tide was falling, as seemed to be the case.

As they came out from behind the key they discovered the sharpie far away to the west, careening over under a brisk morning breeze, and looking like a dun-colored frightened bird.

"We're not apt to see anything of that tough lot again, I guess," quoth Jerry.

"They're heading for a favorite ground. I didn't know they hunted sponges so far north, Joe. Key West seems to be the head center for the business."

"Get a few, but not many. Mostly fishing and turtling. Some look for coral on the bottom. Lots of ways to earn a living around the water in the gulf," replied the boy, in answer to Frank's inquiry.

"I should say there were. A man need never go hungry in this region if he knows enough to let strong drink alone," said Will.

"That's the trouble with Uncle Ben; he's drunk half the time. And when he is he wants to fight everybody. We all tried to keep away from him," observed Joe.

They were now out upon the gulf again. Will was a little dubious, remembering his bitter experience of the preceding day, but to his surprise and delight, he did not seem to feel the least bit sick. Perhaps the motion was entirely different, for they were now running almost directly into the light breeze.

Frank had turned the wheel over to Bluff, and was conning his charts, with Jerry bending over his shoulder.

"There's where we are right now. Looking along the shore, you can see where a key offers the same sort of refuge we enjoyed last night. In cruising along this coast, it's the only thing to do—run behind one of those islands each night. Only big boats anchor off shore. It's too dangerous for little craft, for a storm is liable to spring up during the night."

In this way Frank went on. They decided that since there seemed to be several possible havens ahead, they had better keep right on until the day waned, or they found themselves forced by a change in the weather to seek shelter.

Jerry had a line trailing astern, with a hook at the end, to which he had attached a bit of white rag. In less than ten minutes after he threw it out he pulled in a gamy fish that might have weighed a couple of pounds.

"A cavalli," said Joe; and they were glad indeed to have a native along who could post them on such things as might have puzzled them.

"Good to eat, is it?" asked Jerry, eyeing the forked tail, which, in this fish, resembles that of the Spanish mackerel.

"Fine. Not so good as pompano, but better than bonita," was Joe's verdict.

"All right. He looks good to me," said Bluff. "Do it some more, Jerry. We need a couple more to make good all around."

"Now, talk to me about that, will you! Listen to how the greedy fellow gauges everybody's appetite by his own voracious longings."

But in spite of his talk, Jerry, being a sportsman to his finger-tips, as he was fond of saying, was only too glad to make a second trial.

This time he had hardly half of his line out when there was a sudden vicious jerk.

"Wow! Nearly took a finger off then! Look at the line whizz, will you? Must have struck a whale!" he cried. But, after all, it was another cavalli (sometimes called crevalle), and not much larger than the first.

So the sport went on until he had brought five to the boat, when he gave up.

"Too hard on the fingers, boys. You see, we're spinning along at a lively clip, and a two-pound fish feels like a ton. I'm all in," he explained.

"Well, we want to keep the fish until evening. Will, here, is dying to clean them for us," said Frank.

"No! no! That is my part of the work!" exclaimed Joe, nor would he hear of anything else.

Noon came and went. Their progress was altogether satisfactory. All of them admitted that outside of that one puzzling breakdown, the motor was working like a charm. It was indeed a pleasure to lie around and see the green waves flashing past, with the picturesque shore only a mile or so away.

Finally Frank announced that he had discovered the island for which he was aiming. They had made a splendid day's showing, and logged more than thirty miles, against a head wind and sea.

Frank tried to follow the chart, but he knew he would have more or less difficulty, for back of the key it was exceedingly shallow, and the channel narrow.

Speed was reduced as they started to enter the open bayou. Jerry, up in the bow, was using the pole as a sounding line, and calling out:

"Two feet! One and three-quarters! One and a half! Hey! Hold up, there! We're on an oyster bar, for sure!" And the grating noise that immediately followed told that they had lost the narrow channel again.



CHAPTER XVIII

TROUBLE

"Oysters! Yum! yum! Who said oysters?" cried Bluff, crawling forward to look.

"Just jump overboard, and you'll get your fill—millions of 'em around!" declared Jerry, prodding with his pole in an effort to release the bow of the boat, but in vain.

"Hold on, there! Don't you do it!" cried Frank as Bluff gave indications of being half inclined to betake himself to the water.

"Why not?" asked the hungry oyster fiend plaintively.

"Because you'll cut your shoes to ribbons on the sharp edges, and perhaps your feet, in the bargain. Remember what you got before," said Frank.

So the impatient one refrained, but he cast many envious looks downward, and a little later could have been seen stretched out on his stomach, prying off bunches of the 'coon oysters with a knife, and enjoying a little side treat.

It was easy to run upon the reef, but to get off was another matter, especially with a falling tide. The motor churned the water, but at first seemed to make no impression. Even when all the boys went aft, so as to lighten the bow, there was no release.

"Something's holding her, I tell you! It may be one of those octopus fish we hear so much about," suggested Will.

Jerry, who had been pulling on a pair of heavy old shoes, with the intention of going overboard, so as to put his shoulder to the bow, and lifting while the motor worked, looked a little dubious.

"Humbug! Can't be any such thing, eh, Frank?" he asked, turning to the one in whose opinion he always felt the most implicit faith.

"What's holding her is that ridge of 'coon oysters. They grip like all creation, Joe, here, says. Wait till I get some old shoes on, Jerry, and I'll be with you," he observed.

Presently both of them were over in the water, which only came to their knees.

"Ready, now, Will. When I say the word, turn on all speed astern. How about it, pard?" Frank said to Jerry.

"Right, here," came the reply.

"Then go!"

After the motor started working, the two in the water lifted. Just as Frank had anticipated, the thing was easy. Back went the Jessamine with a rush; indeed, Jerry was not quick enough in trying to draw himself aboard, and they left him there, marooned on the 'coon oyster bar.

"Hi, you! Come back here after me! Think I'm Bluff, and want a mortgage on the whole blooming bed, don't you? Shove me the little dinghy, if you're afraid of scratching more of the varnish off Cousin Archie's boat!" he shouted.

"Hold on! Please wait! I want to get a picture of him standing there in the big bay, just as if he owned the sea. It's Neptune, coming out of the water, you know," called Will beseechingly.

So Jerry felt constrained to humor the artist, and assume a position that, according to Will's idea, accorded with his condition of lonesomeness.

"I think we'll just pole along, fellows, and not run the motor. I guess we don't want to go very far in, anyhow, for we'll have the dickens of a time getting out again in the morning," remarked Frank.

"There's some sort of a shack over yonder on the mainland," remarked Will.

Frank took a look.

"Possibly the place where some of those turtlers put up when out after their game. They keep the green turtles in what they call a 'crawl,' until ready to set sail for Cedar Keys. I'm told we'll see lots of them there," remarked Frank.

"I can see an old boat drawn up on shore, but not the first sign of life about the place. There's a buzzard sitting on a dead tree—yes, a row of 'em! My! I hope there ain't anybody dead in there!"

Will had brought out Frank's marine glasses, and was looking through them as he gave utterance to this forlorn expression.

"Oh! let up on that, Will! You give a fellow the creeps. Just why should there be any one dead yonder? Buzzards are found everywhere in Florida, millions of 'em. I reckon the shack is deserted. To prove it, I'm going to paddle over and see, just as soon as we get fast to our mudhook again," remarked Jerry.

"And that will be right now," said Frank. "Give it a toss, Bluff. Here we seem to be in a little spot deeper than the rest of the bayou, and with room to swing around with a change of wind without fouling our anchor or going aground again on any miserable oyster bed."

"Look here! I've got a grievance," remarked Bluff.

"All right. Let's hear it," laughed Will.

"If he takes the dinghy, how in the world am I going to gather the oysters for our supper? Frank said the very next mess we got he would give us scalloped oysters, and I'm just feeling hungry that way," complained Bluff.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll be back in half an hour, at the most. Besides, if you want to, you can put on these heavy shoes of mine, drop over the side, and wade to the bar. It's warm in the water, and delightful," remarked Jerry, slipping over into the small boat, with his rifle in his hand.

"Well, there's no depending on you. Half an hour, did you say? More than likely that means about dark, if there's any temptation to hunt ashore. So I suppose I'll just have to duck, and do the great wading act. For I count it next door to a crime to be so near delicious oysters and not have them at least once a day."

Bluff was as good as his word. He put on the heavy shoes, and some old garments. Then, getting a bucket, he crept overboard, found that the water only came to his waist, and, having marked out his course, was speedily on a reef, digging at the largest oysters he could find.

"Boys, they're just the finest ever! Some whoppers out here, too. No 'coon oyster about that chap," and he held up one that was half again as large as his hand.

Now and then, as he worked, they could see him stop to try an extra fat-looking fellow. When this had been repeated a dozen times, Will reproached him.

"Where do we come in? Do we get the culls?" he demanded.

"Why, hang it, my bucket's as full now as it will hold! I'm coming across to dump 'em on the deck, and get another helping. Why, I could keep at this business all day. It's just fascinating, that's what!" called Bluff.

"I see your finish, all right, my fine boy. You'll never go back to Centerville again. Either you'll turn into an oyster, after devouring so many tons of 'em, or else hire out to the owner of a sharpie engaged in the business," laughed Frank.

He had to admit, though, when Bluff opened one of the big fellows and allowed him a chance to taste its flavor, that they were the best he had ever run across.

"Barring none," declared Bluff vigorously, holding the oyster knife aloft.

"Barring none," affirmed Frank, also erecting his fingers, as though willing to go on record.

Then, of course, Will had to try them, also, and also frankly pronounced them delicious.

"Let me have that knife, Bluff, and I'll be opening some while you're off after another supply. The hatchet will be all you want to loosen any tight ones. Don't look at me that way. I can be trusted not to eat more than one in five. And my appetite for oysters isn't one-third what yours is," laughed Frank.

Bluff seemed to think he could stand that, for he yielded up the opener.

"Don't you let that scoffer, Will, have another one. I'll bring back another bucketful in about ten minutes. There's millions of 'em. They set me wild to think of such riches going to waste. I'll dream about 'em, fellows."

Grumbling thus, he stalked through the water to the reef, and set to work again.

Frank had watched Jerry push in to shore and vanish among the tangled undergrowth. Some little time had passed since, but there was no sign of his returning.

"I guess it's lucky Bluff didn't take his word for it, and wait," he remarked.

"Yes," replied Will, who was watching the fat bivalves drop into the kettle as his chum deftly manipulated the opening knife, "I rather think we'd have missed connections with this savory mess, all right, and all of us would have been sorry."

"I wonder if he found anybody in that old shack?" mused Frank, looking again.

"Hardly likely. What would you say, Joe? Ever been ashore here?"

The boy shook his head in the negative.

"Not me. This is my first trip up this far. Been down the coast, below Cedar Keys, more'n once. But I believe Jerry likes to hunt. Perhaps he might think it a good time to look around, and see if there happens to be a deer waiting to be cooked up."

Frank laughed.

"You've got Jerry sized up to a pretty fine point, boy. That's his weakness to a dot, and I wouldn't put it past him to wander off. I only hope he doesn't go and get lost. That would delay us, even if nothing worse came of it"

"There!"

As Will made this utterance there came the sharp report of a gun from the mainland, and undoubtedly the rifle was that of their absent chum.

"Wonder what he's struck now?" said Frank.

There came two more reports, in quick succession.

Bluff was already hastening in from the oyster bar, staggering under his load.

"Hey! D'ye hear all that shooting, fellows? Jerry's in some sort of trouble, I'll bet my hat!" he shouted excitedly.

"And we are unable to get ashore, for he has the only boat, and the water is too shallow to push the big craft in. The question is, what shall we do?"

Frank looked into the faces of his two chums, and saw by their increasing pallor that they more than shared the fears that were beginning to gnaw at his heart in connection with the safety of the genial, good-natured Jerry Wallington.



CHAPTER XIX

WHAT HAPPENED TO JERRY

"I'd give something for a pair of wings just now!" exclaimed Will regretfully.

"Or that bally old balloon of Professor Smythe's, eh?" echoed Bluff, as he surveyed the stretch of water separating them from the mainland.

"But something must be done! Bluff, get your gun!"

Frank was hastily removing the tennis shoes he wore aboard the boat.

"What're you going to do?" demanded Will, as Bluff made haste to obey.

"Two of us must get ashore. Perhaps Jerry needs help."

"Oh! I see! And you think you can wade there?" queried Will, as he saw Frank drawing on the second pair of heavy shoes, that had already been in the water.

"That's what we have to do. Ready, Bluff?" cried Frank, snatching up his own double-barreled shotgun.

"Where do I come in?" demanded Will as they slid overboard.

"You're the goalkeeper this time. Hold the ship, with Joe, here, till we get back."

"And they've taken all the guns along," grumbled Will as he watched his two chums making their splashing way in the direction of the shore.

Happening to bethink himself of the old revolver on board, Will presently armed himself with the same, and tried to imagine that he presented an imposing appearance as the guardian of the motor-boat. Truth to tell, he would have really been far more dangerous handling his favorite camera, for he did not have it in him to harm a flea, if he could help it.

Meanwhile, Frank and his comrade were pushing for the shore as rapidly as the conditions allowed. By exercising a certain amount of discretion they were able to follow up one of the oyster reefs that thrust out from the bank like the fingers of a human hand.

"We'll make it all right," declared Bluff presently.

"Yes, and without getting in deeper than half way up. But I'm wondering why we don't hear anything more from Jerry. He had six charges in his rifle, you know."

From Frank's tone it was easy to understand that he was worried.

"Say, perhaps that was meant for a signal," suggested Bluff suddenly.

"There were three shots, just as we've always agreed, but then they were scattered somewhat. I hardly agree with you, Bluff, though it may be true. I hope it is, and yet Jerry must have known we had no boat. He would hardly want us to come ashore unless he was in a mighty serious pickle."

"Anyhow, we're nearly there, and must soon know the worst," said Bluff, whose face looked a bit peaked under the suspense.

More through accident than design, they landed close to the spot where the old palmetto shack could be seen. Frank pointed to an enclosure along the edge of the bayou, made by piling up logs and pieces of coquina rock.

"Turtle crawl," he said, as they hurried past, and Bluff only gave it one look, for his attention was taken up with the more serious matter that had brought them ashore.

Advancing to the shack, Frank looked in, but there did not appear to be a living soul around.

He surveyed his surroundings with anxiety. Great live-oaks, with their crooked limbs covered with the trailing Spanish moss; tall palmettos, and shorter young ones of the same type; gumbo-limbo trees, wild plum, and several wild orange trees, made up the immediate surroundings.

"Oh! if we only had some idea which way he could have gone!" exclaimed Frank.

"Perhaps he left a trail," was the bright thought of Bluff.

"Almost impossible to map it out in this black sand," Frank replied; but, nevertheless, he started to look, since there was nothing else to do.

A dozen impossible things flashed through Frank's brain as he bent over to try and pick up the tracks of his missing chum. Whatever could have happened to Jerry? Usually he was able to take good care of himself; could it be possible that some inmate of the dilapidated shack had stolen upon him, bent upon robbery? In that case, how account for the shots?

"Let's shout," said Bluff again.

"A bright thought, and surely it can do no harm. Let me call singly, Bluff."

Thereupon Frank lifted up his voice and shouted:

"Jerry! Jerry! Where are you?"

The call rang through the thick jungle under the live-oaks. A small animal, possibly a 'coon, scurried through the undergrowth. In an adjacent tree a Florida bluejay gave forth a discordant scream. A fox-squirrel barked saucily, and with a flirt of his bushy tail scrambled around to the other side of a hickory tree.

Then came a shout that thrilled them:

"Ahoy, there, Frank!"

"It's Jerry!" cried Bluff, ready to throw his hat into the air.

Frank himself was tremendously relieved. No matter what had happened, their chum was alive, and could call to them.

"Hello! What's the matter? Where are you?" he shouted, for the voice of Jerry had come from a little distance away, and seemed strangely muffled.

"Straight into the woods from the shack!" came back the reply.

"We're coming to you!" called Frank, still puzzled to know what it all meant.

"I wonder what he has dropped into now?" speculated Bluff as he trotted along at the heels of his leader.

"Sounds as if he wanted us to come to him, all right. Keep your gun ready, Bluff, for there's no telling but what you may need it," Frank went on.

"It's in apple-pie shape for business at the old stand. Jerry laughs at it, but before now he's found that it could help a fellow out of a hole. Suppose you try him again?"

Bluff's suggestion was a good one, and Frank raised his voice in a shout. This time the answer came from a point closer at hand. Still, although they were peering eagerly through the dense foliage, they could see nothing out of the way.

"This beats the Dutch! Where under the sun can the fellow be?" said Bluff, after they had gone still further.

"What's that?" asked Frank suddenly, pointing.

"I declare if it doesn't look some like a dead deer, a little fellow, too; perhaps a fawn," came from Bluff as he hurried forward.

"No, it's a full-grown deer, all right, and just killed, too. They run very small down here, you know. But that doesn't tell us where our chum is, even if he shot the game, and had to fire three times in order to down it," declared Frank.

"As sure as you live, here's his gun!" cried Bluff.

Frank stared at the rifle, that lay at the foot of a particularly big live-oak, parts of which seemed to be rotting away, as there were dead limbs strewing the ground underneath it. Then he cast his eyes upward, as if under the impression that he might discover Jerry perched upon a limb, laughing at them.

"He isn't up there. I've examined every limb on the old tree. What under the sun do you suppose could have happened to him?" ejaculated Bluff.

"Hark!" said Frank, holding up his hand.

"He's laughing at us! I tell you that was Jerry's chuckle, for all the world! Now, what tomfoolery is he up to, do you suppose? Bringing us ashore through all that beastly water just to have a shy at us! Hi, Jerry, you old joker! Show up!" cried Bluff indignantly.

The only answer was a second laugh, louder than the first.

"I declare he's up in that blessed tree, after all, and yet for the life of me I can't get a squint at him. Serve the old chap right if we went and took the dinghy back, leaving him to wade," grumbled Bluff.

Frank was looking around him. He noticed several little things just then. Among others was the fact that there were scratches on the bark of the big old oak, as though some one might have scrambled up its trunk recently. An air-plant lay on the ground, evidently detached during the progress of that party.

"I'm beginning to smell a rat," Frank said, slowly.

"Then let me in, please. I'm just devoured with curiosity to know what it all means," pleaded his chum.