CHAPTER VII
A FLORIDA SHERIFF
There was an upheaval of various blankets, three faces peeped forth, and then came a wild scramble for weapons.
"Wow! What is it, Frank!" bellowed Bluff.
"My camera! Who took it away from where I placed it?"
"Talk to me about that, will you! That fellow will howl after his blooming box when he goes to cross the Styx after he dies," grunted Jerry.
Frank had paid no attention to his comrades. His eyes were glued upon the shadowy spot where he felt positive he had seen some creeping figure drawing closer to the boat, inch by inch.
They heard him laugh aloud, as though something he had seen amused him.
"Was it a thief? And did you shoot him?" asked Will, appalled.
"A thief, all right; but I didn't shoot the beggar. Wish I had, now," responded the watch, with regret in his voice.
"Then it couldn't have been a human thief, for you'd never say that. Did you see the critter go?" came from Jerry, as he peered forth, gun in hand.
"I fired high on purpose, for I was afraid it might be poor old George sneaking back to see if he could get away with any more of that fine bacon. Whatever it was, it made a flying leap back into the shadows. I thought I heard an angry or startled snarl, but you fellows made so much confusion as you bounced up that I couldn't be sure."
"Jumped away, eh? Then I take it the thing must have been a bobcat," said
Jerry.
"Something along the cat family, anyway," replied Frank.
"Look here! You don't mean to say it was—a panther?" demanded the other.
"I'm not saying anything; but in the morning we'll go and take a look at the ground behind that second log over there. If there are any tracks, they ought to tell the story," remarked Frank, who, no matter how positive he might feel that this was just what he had seen, would not commit himself without some proof.
"That's what I get for waking Frank up so soon. Oh! why didn't I hold out a little while longer? Nothing ever happens when I'm on duty, it seems. I must be a Jonah, that's what!" sighed Will disconsolately.
"Why, what would you have done?" demanded Bluff.
"Shot the intruder, but by snapping the trigger of my little flashlight pistol, and in that way I'd have taken a picture of the beast as it crouched there. I sat here, holding that pistol, and my camera, ready, for two mortal hours, in vain. I'm the most unlucky dog going."
"Well, I notice that, after all, you manage to gather in your share of pictures. The trouble is, you want to corral everything going. Well, me to the bench again for another snooze. Wake me when you get tired of sitting up, Frank. If the critter comes again, let him have a charge," said Jerry.
"I certainly will, if I can make sure that it doesn't happen to be a man," was the reply of Frank.
Apparently, the report of the shotgun had alarmed the beast, for he certainly did not show himself again. Whatever it was, the attractive smell around the vicinity of the campfire must have drawn him out of the neighboring swamp, just as it had Black George, earlier in the night.
Both Jerry and Bluff took their turns, and in this way daylight found them undisturbed. Jerry had left his shotgun at home, and carried a rifle on this trip. He and Bluff had entered into many an argument because this new weapon was a six-shot gun; for Jerry had made all manner of fun over Bluff owning a shotgun built after the same principle, nor could they settle the dispute, Jerry claiming that it was all right in a rifle, as a man hunted big game with that, and his life might be in danger; while with the other weapon he usually only shot birds and inoffensive small animals; while Bluff declared that what was black for the pot was also black for the kettle.
Going ashore, soon after getting up, Frank knelt down alongside the log where he had seen the shadowy figure bound off.
"I say, Jerry!" he presently called out.
"Want me?" asked that worthy, folding up his blanket so that it could hang and get the breeze, whether they moved on or remained where they were.
"Yes. Come here. You'll be interested, I think."
Jerry quickly reached his side.
"What's doing?" he asked, eagerly searching with his eyes the ground near
Frank.
"Bend lower, for the sign is rather faint. What d'ye make of that, and that? Is it the paw of a bobcat?" asked the one on his knees, with an expressive smile.
"Great Jehosaphat! No! Then it was a panther, after all!" cried Jerry.
"I think I'm safe in saying yes to that question," replied Frank.
"And now don't you wish you'd shot him?"
"Well, yes, if I had been positive, which I couldn't be, under the circumstances, you see. Perhaps I may be lucky enough to run across one of the breed again when there can be no uncertainty, for I would like very much to say I'd knocked over a panther," was the reply Frank made.
"Say! Shall we cook breakfast again on the shore?" called Will from on board the boat.
"We might as well. There will be plenty of occasions when we'll just have to do it aboard, and this fire seems cheerful like," replied Jerry.
Frank agreeing with him, they carried the necessary utensils ashore, and preparations were begun looking toward the getting of a bounteous meal.
"Wonder how our good friend, Black George, feels this morning? Hello! We're going to have visitors, I see. Look what's coming down the river, boys!"
As Bluff spoke they ceased eating and turned to gaze upstream. A boat was advancing rapidly, with the aid of the current and a pair of stout ashen oars. Several men occupied the craft which was quite roomy.
"Say, they've got some dogs there. Ain't those bloodhounds, Frank?" whispered Will, for the boat was now close by, the men craning their necks to look at the launch.
"I believe they are. Perhaps this is the sheriff on the run for our black friend, George," returned Frank.
"Oh! I hope not. I don't believe the poor chap is as dangerous as all that. I have an idea he's more sinned against than sinning," replied Will, who always looked on the better side of those he met, and hence was an easy mark for sharpers.
The men in the boat came ashore. Our friends then saw that the dogs were of a black-and-tan color, with long ears, and the aspect that distinguishes bloodhounds.
"Mornin', neighbors. Takin' a trip down the river, I see. That's right. Like to see youngsters enjyin' themselves. I'm the sheriff o' this heah county, an' these gentlemen is my deputies. We're a-lookin' fo' a desprit scoundrel thet hes been doin' heaps o' mischief 'round heah. His latest work was tuh rob the house o' a cotton planter named Davis, an' nigh about kill the old man. We want him, an' we're jest 'bout determined not tuh go back without the skunk. Don't s'pose yuh could 'a' set eyes on sech a pizen critter, gents?" said the leader.
He was a tall, lean man, with a hawklike nose and keen blue eyes. He wore a long frock coat, considerably the worse for wear, and this, with his slouch hat, gave him the appearance of a Western marshal, in the eyes of Jerry, at least.
"Who was this scoundrel?" asked Frank uneasily.
"His name is Bob Young, an' he's really the son o' a minister upcountry, but long ago his father cast him off as a scamp. He'll sure swing one o' these days," replied the sheriff, looking keenly at Frank, as though he suspected he might know something that he wanted to hear.
"Then he's a white man?" asked the other quickly, and with evident relief.
"Shore he is, an' the toughest ever. Seen any sign o' him, stranger?"
"Not a thing. We had a coon in camp last night, starving, and we fed him. He was Black George, the man they ran out of town some time back," ventured Frank.
He saw that the dogs were nosing about, and feared lest they should set out on the trail of the poor wretch by mistake.
The sheriff laughed.
"Oh, our time's too valuable to fool away with that black trash. He ain't wuth shootin'. Come on, then, boys. Like tuh sit up with yuh, friends, an' have a snack, but we got to be on the move afore the trail below gits cold. Yuh see, we hed word 'bout Bob, an' we wanter git him this clip, sure. So-long, an' good luck! Thet thar is sure the boss little boat yuh got."
And presently the sheriff and his posse faded from view under the long streamers of hanging Spanish moss that overshadowed the river below.
"I'm just as glad. He gave me the creeps. That eye of his was fierce," said Will.
"Oh, that's because you've got a guilty conscience, I guess," laughed Jerry. "Now to me he was a picture of a strong character that would have made a good showing in our album," and he looked severely at Will.
"Oh! What beastly luck! Why didn't I think of it in time? Another chance gone glimmering! I think you fellows are too mean for anything, not to remind me of these things in time. He would have embellished our album handsomely—and those dogs, too! How picturesque bloodhounds are! I feel sick."
Will jumped up, snatched his camera, and stalked off beyond the edge of the camp, as if to brood alone. Presently they heard him calling:
"Oh, Frank! Won't you come here for a minute? I'm just taking the picture of a big snake, and he's as angry as you please. There's a locust somewhere close by, too, keeping up a tremendous rattling. Please hurry! He won't wait long!"
Frank, followed by Jerry, was off like a shot. His face turned white with sudden apprehension as he ran. Coming upon Will, kneeling there, and watching, he seized him by the shoulders and whirled him back, exclaiming:
"Why, you greenhorn, don't you know that's a diamond-back rattler, coiled up and ready to launch himself at you?"
CHAPTER VIII
WILL DOES IT
"Talk to me about babes in the woods!" gasped jerry.
He was staring at the enormous rattler, that still kept up a buzzing with his rattle, and which sound poor Will had believed was made by a locust.
"Shoot the thing, Jerry! You've been wise enough to fetch your gun!" said
Frank.
"That just suits me. Have you got all the snapshots you want, Will?" demanded Jerry, falling on one knee and elevating his rifle.
"There! He's reforming! You see, he did actually think of me, for once. Oh, yes. I snapped him three times. I rather think he didn't like the sound, for he darted his head at me wickedly. I suspected it might be a rattlesnake, though," replied the photographer calmly.
Then came a sharp report.
"Keep back!" called Jerry as the snake's folds suddenly flew out; but its head was almost blown from its body, and there was no more danger to be feared.
"I'll get the rattle, to remind you of your narrow squeak, Will," said
Jerry.
"That's kind of you, now; but I rather think you are getting it to remind you of your first shot at game with the new rifle," remarked Will.
The others had by now come up to stare at the enormously thick snake, with more or less of a shudder.
"How about having that skin, to make a belt or something?" suggested
Bluff.
"You're welcome to it, if you can take it off and properly dry if; but you're so squeamish about snakes I'd hardly think you'd care for the job," remarked Jerry.
"I'll see. I heard Nellie say she always wanted a belt made out of a skin like that, and perhaps I may try to get it," concluded Bluff.
"Are we going to proceed, or put in a day around here, fellows?" asked
Frank.
"I say stay. We may not get another chance at a swamp before we reach the open gulf, and I want to snap a dozen fine views off around here. I mean to take the little dinghy and push into the swamp a bit," ventured Will.
"Say! he's getting real venturesome, ain't he?" laughed Jerry.
"Next thing he'll be getting lost, and we'll have a deuce of a time finding him again. Make him take a compass along, Frank, and that old revolver of yours," growled Bluff.
"Don't you worry about me, now. Perhaps you'll find I'm able to look out for myself far better than any of you give me credit for," returned the other, with a show of indignation.
He went aboard to get ready, taking another roll of films along, for, as he remarked, there could be no telling what might turn up.
"Try to keep your wits about you, Will, and don't venture too far away.
If in doubt, fire the pistol three times, and we'll answer you," said
Frank, who was not wholly easy about the exploring trip.
"Got some grub along?" asked Bluff, for that was a very essential part of any undertaking, in his eyes.
"Yes to everything. So-long, fellows! Don't let anybody run away with the motor-boat while I'm gone." And, with a merry laugh, Will dipped his paddle into the water, sending the little dinghy gliding toward the more quiet lagoons of the swamp.
He was soon under the spell of his surroundings. These were so weird that the ardent photographer really forgot everything else. As he paddled along he saw a dozen pictures around him, and when he thought the light fair enough he took a time exposure.
So an hour passed away. In all that time he had seen no evidence of life, save a few alligators, some wary 'coons, a 'possum hanging from a tree by its tail, and some birds, mostly crows or bluejays.
In the water he had noted a variety of snakes. Remembering what Frank had told him about these gliding reptiles, Will was careful not to bother with them; for in all probability they were water moccasins, whose bite, if not so deadly as that of the diamond-back rattler, would cause a wound that might never heal, since it seems to put a certain poison into the flesh that brings about a running sore.
Perhaps he ought to go back. He had succeeded in taking all of half a dozen good views, besides several of which he was not so certain.
Then it dawned upon Will that, after all, he was not so sure that he knew which way he ought to go. True, he had a compass, and could tell where the north lay, as well as all other cardinal points, but the question was, did the camp lie east or south of where he happened to be just then?
He cudgeled his brains to try to remember, so as to place himself.
"Say! Perhaps I am lost, all right," he remarked, with a laugh, for it did not look at all serious just then, but more like a joke.
Then he suddenly remembered that he had the only boat.
"If they wanted to hunt for me they couldn't do it. To move about in this swamp without a boat would be impossible; that is, for a stranger; and the launch could never come here. Guess I'll shoot up a few and get my points."
So saying, he banged away three times.
Presently there was an answering series of shots, but very far distant.
"Whew! I didn't dream I'd gone so far," he said, and having noted the direction from which the sounds seemed to come, he started to paddle hard.
After half an hour's work he halted, tired, and perspiring freely.
"This is no fun, I tell you. Wonder if I'm anywhere near? I might try again."
This time there was no answer. The wind possibly kept those in camp from hearing the fusilade. Will began to grow alarmed. It was now high noon, and he felt hungry, so he disposed of the lunch he had carried, at Bluff's suggestion. Incidentally, he blessed his chum for thinking of such a thing.
After that he paddled some more, until he grew very tired.
"This begins to look some serious. What if I have to spend a night here?
Gee! I won't like that much, I guess. Hello! What's that over yonder?
Seems to me it might be some sort of a shack, made of palmetto leaves.
Wonder who lives there? Ugh! What if it turns out to be that desperado
the sheriff is hunting—Bob?"
The idea oppressed him, and he felt like paddling away; but his case was desperate, and he determined to creep up and try to ascertain just who lived in the primitive-looking native shack.
So, finding a chance to land on the little island among the dark waters of the lagoon, he started to advance cautiously in the direction of the dwelling, which was really the first Will had seen made of leaves.
In spite of his fears, the fever of picture-taking was so strong in his breast that he had to stop once and level his camera at the picturesque shack. Then the familiar click announced that he had secured what he wanted.
Perhaps that sound may have reached other ears, and been misconstrued to mean something else. Will might have realized this much could he have seen the dark figure creeping up on him, and lying flat on his stomach most of the time.
As the boy reached the lonely shack he was about to put out his hand in an endeavor to draw aside some of the dry leaves so that he might peep within, when, without warning, a heavy form fell upon him, flattening him out on the sand.
CHAPTER IX
THE MOTOR-BOAT AND THE PROWLERS
The unlucky young photographer gave a shriek. He could only think of that panther Frank had seen on the previous night, and believed that he was now in the power of the ferocious beast.
As he fell forward he managed to twist himself around so that he lay almost on his back. This enabled him to look up into the face of the man who was pinioning him down so fiercely to the earth.
"George!" he exclaimed.
It was the same fugitive black who had visited their camp on the preceding night. He stared hard at the face of the one he was holding down.
"Gorry! Am it you, young marse?" he exclaimed, as he released his savage clutch, and even attempted to help Will up.
"Yes. I'm lost, you see. Tried to do too much. Taking pictures in the swamp, and kind of got a little mixed. But I'm glad to meet you again, George. Is this the place where you hold out?"
The negro was breathing hard. He had evidently been greatly excited, under the belief that the creeping form had been one of his enemies, bent on effecting his capture, with the idea of furnishing sport for the idlers at the river town, through the medium of a little "tar and feathers party," so popular in some sections of the Southern backwoods.
"I heerd a sound like it wor a gun bein' cocked. Dat must 'a' been de black box heah, suh. Gorry! but I's glad it wan't dem white trash from de town. I's jest a-gittin' ready tuh vamoose outen heah right smart now. I's gwine tuh Chattanooga, tuh jine my darter. An' dat grub yuh guv me'll kerry me part o' the way."
"That's all right, George. Suppose you just take the time to paddle me back to our camp. I'll promise you a lot more provisions, and some money in the bargain. This is a serious scrape for me, and while my life may not amount to much, it does seem a pity to waste all the fine views I've taken in this old swamp. Will you go?"
"'Deed an' I will, right peart, suh. You-all hev bin mighty good tuh me, an' I ain't gwine tuh forgit dat you sed as how I mightn't be just as bad as dey paint me. Git into de leetle boat, young mars, an' I'll paddle yuh home," said the old negro, with alacrity.
"Hold on a minute, George! I want to shoot you first," observed Will.
"Gorry! Will it hurt, marse?" asked the other, beginning to look worried as he saw the mysterious black box being aimed at him.
"Not one-tenth as bad as having a tooth pulled out," laughed Will. "In fact, you probably would never know it. Please step back a little. You see, I'm trying to get the shack in, too. That's part of the game."
Will snapped the camera shutter.
"That's all. Didn't feel it, did you, George?"
"Not so's I kin notice, suh. An' will dat show me an' de leetle shack w'en it's done fixed?" asked the fugitive wonderingly, eyeing the camera with respect.
"Fine. And if you leave me your address, or that of your married daughter up in Chattanooga, I promise to send you a copy later on, George."
"Oh! I'll do dat, marse, 'deed I will! Nebber hed my pictur' took yet. My gal, she'll be sure surprised tuh see dat!" exclaimed the negro, still grinning.
"Well, we had better go now. Are you sure you can paddle me around to where the boat is tied up, George?"
"Easy as fallin' off'n a log, suh. Git dar in 'bout a hour er so." And George dipped deeply, with the air of one who was accustomed to the paddle.
Indeed, Will learned presently that he had a dugout canoe hidden near by, and in which he was accustomed to navigate the intricate channels of the great swamp. He had lived out here some time, and knew the place thoroughly.
Will was sensible enough not to mention the fact that the sheriff and his posse, together with the two bloodhounds, had passed along that morning. Had he done so, the negro might have taken the alarm, and declined to accompany him farther.
Things had turned out well, after all. If he had a faculty for tumbling into a scrape, at least he was usually fortunate enough to get out again all right.
Before the hour was really up they came out of the swamp, and in sight of the tied-up motorboat. At sight of the dinghy the three boys gave shouts of delight.
"Tell me about that, will you!" said Jerry, as he stared at Will, seated comfortably in the bow of the short little craft, while the old negro, crouching in a limited area farther aft, plied the spruce paddle. "He comes back in style, with a guide to show him the way!"
"Better that than to stay in that gloomy place, eh, Frank? Oh, I got lost, all right, but happened to find the shack of our good friend George, who rescued me."
"Ain't he the honest chap, though? Ready to acknowledge the corn, no matter what the consequences," declared Bluff.
"And I promised George some more of our extra provisions, if you have no objections, fellows. He's going to start for Chattanooga right off. I didn't mention about the sheriff and his posse, for I was afraid it might alarm the poor fellow. Better not say anything to him about it," remarked Will aside.
"And they don't want him, anyhow. Give George just what you and Frank think we can spare. I feel sorry for the old man, too. Say! did you get his photo this time, Will?" asked Jerry.
"Thank you, I did, and standing beside that wonderful shack, made of palmetto leaves. I'm glad to see that you're beginning to take an interest in my work. Keep it up, Jerry. We'll all enjoy the pictures later on," remarked Will.
The boys had eaten lunch, but that did not deter them from getting another ready, and both Will and the negro did full justice to it.
"Here, George, is the package of food for you to carry on your long trip. And I want you to take this, also. It's only five dollars, but it may help out on the way to Chattanooga," said Will, slipping the bill into the old fellow's black hand.
George looked at it as though he could not believe his eyes.
"Five dollahs! Gorry! dat am mo' dan I done see dis t'ree yeahs, suh! Five dollahs! If I kin on'y keep dat till I sees my gal, Cleopatrick, how her eyes'll stick out!" he said, scratching his white wool in delight, while his eyes glistened.
"Say that name again, will you?" murmured Jerry, gripping the arm of
Frank as if taken suddenly ill.
"Cleopatrick. Dat's my darter, suh. She merried a right smart nigger, an' he's got a barber shop up dar. His name it am Samuel Parker White, an' if so be yuh ebber wants tuh send me one ob dat pictur', jest drap it dar. I's over-whelmed wid gratefulness, 'deed I is. Dey won't ebber be troubled wif George Duval 'round these diggin's ag'in, dat's so, suh."
"But think of the henroosts up there about poor old Chattanooga," said
Jerry in Frank's ear, though the latter frowned at him for saying it.
After a short time old George took his departure on foot. He said that it was his intention to start immediately for the North. He had a few things at his shack he wanted to get, when he would depart from the soil of Florida forever.
"Happy Florida!" muttered the irrepressible Jerry.
Nevertheless, each of them shook the old darky's hand, in parting, and wished him the best of good luck.
"Well, what had we better do, boys?" asked Frank when they found themselves once more alone.
"I'm for getting out," said Will.
"That surprises me some, for it was you who wanted to stay," remarked
Bluff.
"Well, we stayed, didn't we? I only want to mention the fact that I'm satisfied, if the rest of you are. I've secured all the swamp scenes I care for," retorted Will.
"I say move on. We can find a better place than this to sleep to-night.
Why, the skeeters nearly carried me away last night," declared Jerry.
"And I'm beginning to be anxious, myself, for a glimpse of that wonderful gulf, not to say a taste of those delicious oysters," put in Bluff.
"That settles it, then. Let's get the things aboard, and drop downstream a few miles, anyway."
Frank suited his action to his words by picking up some of the cooking utensils and starting to clean them. This task was soon accomplished, and by degrees all their property that had been taken ashore was stowed away on the boat.
Then finally, Jerry, whose business it seemed to be to mind the hawsers, unfastened the rope that held the bow of the boat, still pointing with the current, just as they had stopped.
"Tell me when!" he called out as he stood by to repeat this maneuver with the second hawser at the stern.
The motor began to chug away cheerily.
"There's life about that sound, all right," laughed Will, who had been impressed with the dreadful monotony and stillness of the swamp.
"Let her loose!" called Frank, at the wheel.
So they once more started toward the open sea. There were still quite a few miles to be traversed, however, before they could set eyes on that same open water. The river was as "crooked as a New York alderman's record," as Jerry declared, and so it was that in order to advance five miles in a straight line they were compelled to navigate three times that distance on the water.
When the afternoon had waned they found a good place for a halt.
Again they cooked a royal supper. When four healthy boys are off on a lark of this sort the subject of eating is always one of their chief concerns, which must account for the space which it occupies in records of cruising and camping trips.
Will did not go ashore that evening. Indeed, somehow, none of them cared to stay alone, though Jerry did build up quite a roaring fire, just because he was fond of seeing the flames leap up in frolic.
As before, they divided the night into four watches, and this time Will chose to take the one that would bring him on deck from about midnight to two.
When it came his turn he sat there holding his camera faithfully, and hoping for something to happen; but it did not come, and he was finally forced to arouse Bluff to take his place.
The latter did so rather unwillingly. Bluff was unusually sleepy, it seemed, and inclined to believe that this watch business was all humbug, anyway. What did they need to fear? Possibly there was not a human being within five miles of where the motor-boat was tied up.
So Bluff grew a bit careless. Two or three times he napped while on duty, and as nothing came of it he made up his mind that there could not be any danger. So he settled himself more comfortably on the seat and allowed his eyes to close once more.
How long he slept Bluff never knew. He was awakened by some sound, but he could not tell what it was.
He did not move, but sat there trying to remember just where he was, and after satisfying his mind with regard to that point, wondered what it was that had disturbed his dreams.
Not hearing any repetition of the noise, he was about to drop off again, his eyes feeling very heavy, when he saw something move. Was that Frank, or one of the other boys, who had been ashore, climbing back to the boat?
Bluff gripped his gun, and kept on the watch. Whoever it might be, he evidently did not want to arouse the sleepers, for he was very careful how he stepped after he had come aboard.
Bluff caught a glimpse of the other's face as the dying fire on shore chanced to flare up. He made the alarming discovery that it was a white man, but a stranger; and then and there he remembered about the sheriff's hunt for the desperado!
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.