TOM’S STORY AND THE END
“Theah was a pen on one side of the island that I hadn’t looked in
because I thought it meant pigs. When I got to thinkin’, I knew
it wasn’t pigs. So I went to have a look. Did you evah heah of an
alligatah twenty feet long?” asked Tom.
“I don’t know anything about ’em,” responded Bob. “But I thought
fourteen feet was pretty fair for size.”
Tom shook his head, and went on.
“That pen was round an’ about fo’ty feet across. Before I got to it, I
smelt musk, an’ I knew that meant alligatah. The pen was made o’ big
pine posts set in the ground, and I could just peek ovah it. At first,
I didn’t see anything in it, but foah posts right in the middle about
six feet high, I reckon. On these posts, was a kind o’ little house
like a dove cote――without sides to it――and a roof o’ palmetto leaves.
That’s wheah it was.”
“Where what was?” broke in the spellbound Bob.
“That Spanish helmet,” answered Tom proudly. “O’ course, I couldn’t
see very well, but I’ve seen pictuahs o’ them, and you can’t mistake
’em――round like a boilin’ pot with holes fo’ the eyes and a thing that
drops down ovah the mouth.”
“Didn’t you examine it?” interrupted romantic Bob. “That very bit of
armor may have been worn by one of De Soto’s soldiers. Some gallant
knight――”
“Did I examine it?” repeated Tom. “Listen. The bottom o’ that pen was
smooth and hard as a floor. Opposite wheah I stood theah was a runway,
just like the big pen, extendin’ right down to the canal. ‘That’s the
royal entrance fo’ the king o’ the alligatahs, the God o’ the Secret
City o’ the Seminoles,’ I said to myself. ‘He must be on a vacation
to-day,’ I says. So I began makin’ snap shots o’ his temple or palace.
Then I had a sudden, creepy feelin’. An’ at the same time, I knew the
musk I had been smellin’ seemed mighty close. I had a kind o’ hunch to
look ovah the fence. Before I finished that look, I was back up among
the shacks with my hair a rattlin’. That old booger was a layin’ just
undah the fence, two feet o’ where I stood.”
Bob shivered and looked around. They were yet in alligator land.
“I began to think I’d leave,” went on Tom, attempting to smile. “I
couldn’t get the helmet, an’ theah wasn’t a thing on the shacks worth
carryin’ away. So I took a few moah pictuahs an’ one bow and a bundle
o’ arrows an’ stahted fo’ my boat. Well,” and he looked up as if Bob
had guessed, “it was gone. Theah I was. Somehow I didn’t just realize
what it all meant, at first. I kind o’ thought theah was some way out.
But in five minutes, I found I was as completely stranded as if I had
been on a real island miles at sea.
“You’d come back, o’ course. But yo’ couldn’t get down in that ‘well’
with the _Anclote_ if yo’ knew wheah I was. I had twenty minutes left
before yo’ were due at the garden hill. I want to say I did some tall
thinkin’. If I could cross the canal, but what then? Theah wasn’t
a foot o’ solid land this side o’ wheah you were to pick me up. I
couldn’t wade the canal. I found that out polein’ up. Besides, theah
were too many things in the watah to make it worth while.
“Ten minutes went by.” Bob sighed sympathetically. “Then I saw that
tree. I don’t know how I came to think of it. But the minute I did, I
realized it was the only thing I could do. I didn’t know whethah I had
the nerve, but I decided I’d go ahead ’til I weakened. So I took out
my films, rolled ’em tight in my handkerchief and stuck ’em inside my
shirt. Then I made a present o’ the camera and my coat, revolver and
shoes to the runaway citizens, an’――”
“So you could climb?” suggested Bob.
“So I could swim,” explained Tom.
“Swim?” exclaimed Bob. “In that whirl pool o’ alligators and snakes?”
Tom shrugged his shoulders. “What else could I do? Theah was no bridge
and the tree was ovah in the swamp.”
“I’d have died first,” said Bob stoutly.
“You would not. You’d a done just what I did. Anyway, I picked up all
the loose bits o’ wood and small objects I could find and rushed at it.
I had to rush. I knew you were gettin’ mighty close. I yelled, threw
chunks an’ things in the watah ’til I hoped my wriggly friends would
have somethin’ else to think about. Then I took a runnin’ dive, an’
splashin’ an’ yellin’ like mad, I got theah.”
Bob’s sigh was almost a groan.
“After that,” concluded Tom, “it was easy enough. That is, after I got
to the tree. I was in marsh water nearly to my ahms, but when I got
hold o’ the hangin’ limbs and got a start on the tree, I felt so good
that climbin’ wasn’t much. I stahted on a small tree leanin’ against
the big one, an’ when I got where I could shin, I went up like a
monkey. You know the rest, as well as I do. An’ now,” said the somewhat
wobbly southern boy, “I’ve had enough o’ this part o’ the Everglades.
When yo’ all is ready, I am. The camp on Anclote Island and the old
_Three Sistahs_ are good enough fo’ me.”
“But you’re goin’ to write about it, just the same,” announced the
proud Bob.
“Yes,” said Tom slowly, “but you can bet I wouldn’t go it again, even
if I knew it would make me a real authah.”
It was nearly two o’clock when the _Anclote_ went skimming along
Crystal Lake and once more took to the air on its homeward flight. With
no further incentive to speed, the two boys took a leisurely flight,
and it was half past five o’clock when Mac’s welcome flag marking the
camp fluttered beneath the descending airship.
Early the next morning, the “_Anclote_” was dismantled, stowed away
in the hold of Captain Joe’s _Three Sisters_, and camp was struck.
All the members of the club had determined to return to Pensacola with
Captain Joe, except Bob. He was carried across to the mainland to make
the train from Tarpon Springs to Tampa, where he would rejoin his
mother.
After a lingering farewell, he sprang from the schooner.
“Boys,” he called back, “we’ve had a crackin’ fine time since I knew
you, and I hope you’re not sorry you elected me a member of the club.”
“You’re the next president, if you come south next year,” answered Tom
promptly.
Bob shook his head, but he flushed with pleasure as he did it.
“I ain’t got nothin’ to say, Bob,” spoke up Mac. “You’ve had your
revenge on me good and plenty.”
“An’ I done fo’give yo’ dat Black Pirate business,” added Jerry
Blossom, his white teeth showing.
“I didn’t mean that,” exclaimed Bob. “I only wanted to say that, in
spite of the salvage we got and Jerry’s treasure box, I found something
I needed more.”
His companions looked at him wonderingly.
“I came here coughing blood and I’m goin’ home a new boy. I’ve found
health, and you fellows helped me find it.”
As the schooner fell off and started on her long cruise across the
gulf, Bob picked up his suitcase and started for the town.
“I wonder,” he thought to himself, “what Father would have said if he
had seen Tom Allen balanced on that rotten tree top.”
* * * * *
The next book in “The Aeroplane Boys” Series has to do with
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mystery. The story is told in “A CRUISE IN THE SKY” or, “THE
LEGEND OF THE GREAT PINK PEARL.”
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[Illustration]
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* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_); text in
bold by “equal” signs (=bold=).
――Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.
――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.