AMONG THE ALLIGATORS.
Early the next morning Chap awakened the party. The coffee was soon
boiled, and after a hasty breakfast the two guns were put into the
row-boat, together with some drinking water and a small luncheon, which
Chap thought they might need, and Coot having taken the oars, they
proceeded up the creek.
They had not gone very far before it became very evident that all that
Coot Brewer had said about the alligators in that creek was entirely
correct. The ugly creatures were seen in great numbers, appearing,
as Chap said, to come from every direction except down from the sky.
They rose up from the bottom of the creek, their great heads and backs
appearing above the water.
The boat, which Coot rowed in an extremely gentle manner, did not seem
to disturb them at all, and they came toward it, or swam away from it,
as if it was of no consequence, some of them approaching almost within
an oar’s length. On the bank, huge monsters, who had been lying in the
reeds and mud, raised themselves on their short legs, and looked around
at the intruders, while big ones and little ones slumped into the water
on each side, some of them swimming toward the boat, and some of them
away from it.
“I’m going to take a crack at one of them,” said Phil, picking up the
rifle.
“No, no!” said Coot. “Don’t do that. Wait till we float down.”
“Why, we can’t get a better chance than we have now,” said Phil. “We
don’t frighten them a bit.”
“But that ain’t the way,” said the other. “You’ve got to hunt ’em the
right way, or it’s no good.”
So they rowed on still farther, and the creek became a little narrower,
while the number of alligators greatly increased. Several times Coot
touched one of them with the end of the oar, and a big fellow rose
right under the boat, giving it quite a jar.
“Look here!” said Coot, with a troubled expression. “I never see ’em as
thick as this afore. This warm weather has brought ’em out.”
“We might as well shoot some of them,” said Chap. “We can never have a
better chance.”
“Don’t you do it,” cried Coot. “You’ll make ’em mad, and they’ll pitch
in and clean us up in less than no time.”
“What’s the good of coming,” said Phil, “if we can’t shoot them when we
see them.”
“Wait till we git where there ain’t so many,” said Coot. “I reckon
they’re scarcer higher up.”
“Queer way of hunting,” remarked Phœnix, “when you look for a place
where the game is scarce.”
At this moment an immense alligator, with a body apparently nearly as
big around as a barrel, who had been standing on the bank intently
watching the boat as it passed, waddled hastily into the water, and
swam directly after it. Coot saw the approaching creature, and, with a
sudden exclamation, he began to tug wildly at the oars. Phil seized the
rifle, and turned toward the alligator.
“Don’t fire!” screamed Coot. “You’ll rile him awful! You’ll rile ’em
all! Put down the gun!”
Unwillingly Phil laid down the rifle, and Brewer rowed as hard as he
could. The alligator did not pursue them long, but soon disappeared
beneath the surface of the water; but this did not allay the fears of
the oarsman.
“He ain’t gin up yet,” he gasped. “He’ll come up in a minnit, right
under us, and then over we’ll go!”
[Illustration: “Don’t fire!” screamed Coot.]
This was not a cheerful prospect, and the boys would have assisted in
the rowing had there been any spare oars.
But although Mr. Brewer was a small man, he was very vigorous, and he
pulled away bravely. At the end of about five minutes of this violent
exercise he stopped and rested.
The big alligator had not reappeared, and at the point where they then
were there were no alligators to be seen either in the water or on the
shore.
Coot looked around him. On the right hand of the stream the shore was
low and marshy, but on the side nearest the town, the bank was a little
higher than it had been, and between the creek and the forest, about a
quarter of a mile away, there was a level stretch of dry land, covered
with coarse grass.
“I tell you what we kin do,” said Coot. “There’s a road over thar in
the woods that leads straight to town. ’Taint much of a road, but it’ll
do to walk in, and it won’t be long before we kin strike it. I say,
let’s land here, and walk to town. We kin git thar easy in three or
four hours.”
“What do you mean?” cried Phil. “Leave this boat here, and the
sail-boat in the river?”
“Yes, sir,” said Coot. “You don’t ketch me goin’ down among all them
’gators ag’in. I wouldn’t do it for all the money in the world! We
kin come after the sail-boat to-morrow, and as for this dinky, we’ll
have to leave her. It’s a pity for Bill Hawkins to lose his dinky,
but what’s a little boat like this to being scrunched up by a lot of
’gators!”
“It will be a mighty mean thing to leave the man’s boat here!”
exclaimed Phil, “and I’m not going to do it!”
“Nor I either!” cried Chap and Phœnix, in a breath.
“All right!” said Coot, pulling toward the shore. “I’m goin’ to land
and walk to town, and if you choose to run back through all them
’gators you kin do it. I ain’t got no way to hender you.”
“What did you come for, if you’re afraid?” asked Chap.
“I didn’t think there was so many of ’em, or I wouldn’t ’a’ come,” was
the cool reply.
When the boat touched the bank he put down the oars and jumped ashore.
“I’ll take the shot-gun,” he said, “’cause I don’t want to lose any
of John’s things. And you might as well give me them victuals you’ve
wrapped up, for if the ’gators don’t eat you, you’ll git to the boat
before you’re hungry; and I’m likely to want something on the way.”
The gun and the luncheon were handed to him without a word, and he
began to make his way over the level ground toward the woods.
Chap and Phœnix now each took an oar, and pushed off, while Phil sat in
the stern.
“Did you ever see such a good-for-nothing, contemptible coward as that,
in all your life?” said Chap, not waiting until Coot should be entirely
out of hearing.
“I never did,” said Phil.
“Nor I,” added Phœnix. “But for one, I’m glad we’re rid of him. He
wasn’t a bit of good to us. And now, what are we going to do?”
“Go back to the boat as soon as we can, I should say,” said Phil.
“Right through the alligators?” said Chap.
“There isn’t any other way that I know of,” replied Phil; “and we might
as well do it first as last.”
“All right,” said Chap and Phœnix; and turning the boat, they began to
row down-stream.
“You’d better go slowly when you get among them,” said Phil; “and of
course we won’t fire at them. I guess that Coot was right when he
thought that it wouldn’t do to rouse their angry passions when we are
among them.”
“It is a shame to leave all those splendid teeth and hides here, but I
suppose it can’t be helped,” said Chap.
“I’d rather leave the teeth here than to have them in me,” said Phœnix;
“and I guess I wouldn’t want to wrestle with an alligator for his
hide, either.”
They soon reached the part of the creek where the alligators began
to be numerous, and as they rowed on, they found that the sun had
got higher, and as the day had become warmer the number of the ugly
creatures who were basking in the sunshine was much greater than before.
The boys rowed very gently, and the alligators paid but little heed to
the boat, except as they regarded it as an object of curiosity.
Many of them seemed engaged in crossing the stream, and Phil frequently
called out to the boys to slacken up a little or they would run into
the lazy fellows.
On the banks some of them were lying perfectly still, as if they were
asleep, while others moved sluggishly about, occasionally turning their
heads and yawning, opening their great mouths so wide that the boys
could see half-way down their throats.
Sometimes the boys were quite frightened, especially when the swimming
beasts came near them; and once, when an enormous fellow rose close to
the boat, and suddenly turning gave it a tremendous stroke with his
tail, the boys thought, for an instant, that it was the creature’s
intention to upset them. But the blow was not repeated, and they
breathed easier.
It was impossible, however, to look upon the horrid heads and writhing
bodies of these great, lizard-like creatures without disgust and fear,
especially when they were so numerous and so near.
“Nobody can say we haven’t seen alligators,” said Chap, as the boat
slowly moved on.
“No, indeed!” said Phœnix; “but as far as I am concerned, I never want
to lay eyes on one again.”
“Look at that wretch!” exclaimed Phil. “I really believe he was going
to take hold of your oar.”
“I hope none of them will do that,” said Chap, looking round
apprehensively, “for I want to get out of this, and I don’t want to
trust to floating down, either.”
Fearful as the boys were that they might at any moment run afoul of
some bad-tempered creature, they kept steadily on, and at last, in
safety, reached the mouth of the creek.
Even here an occasional alligator showed itself, but the boys took no
notice of these, and rowed swiftly toward The Rolling Stone.
“Hurrah, boys!” cried Chap, when they had made the small boat fast to
the other. “Now, at last, we are masters of our own vessel! This is
splendid! Nobody on board to tell us what to do!”
“It won’t be so splendid,” said Phœnix, “if we can’t get her up to
town.”
“But we can,” cried Phil. “I can sail a boat better than that Coot
Brewer.”
“You’ll have to do that,” said Chap, “or I won’t go along with you. I
don’t think Coot knew anything about sailing. How he is going to get
his boat down to his brother’s is more than I know. His business in
life is to hunt alligators.”
“Yes,” said Phil, “and to do it the way he likes he’s got to go where
game is scarce.”
“And that’s in the woods,” said Phœnix.
Phil had had a good many lessons in sailing a boat from his uncle, Mr.
Godfrey Berkeley, and all the boys had profited greatly by observing
Adam’s method of managing the boat, consequently they felt quite
delighted to have the opportunity of doing some sailing for themselves.
Phil went to the helm; Chap took charge of the main-sheet line, and
Phœnix made himself generally useful at the main-sail and the jib.
The wind had got around to the east, and this was much in their favor.
They pulled up the anchor, hauled up the sails, and set off bravely.
Phil was a careful fellow, and watched for every flaw of wind, and Chap
was very prompt to let out the sheet as soon as ordered.
“I want you to understand, Phil,” said Chap, “that as I am captain, I
give you orders to let me know every time you want the main-sheet let
out.”
“All right, captain,” said Phil. “Discipline must be maintained.”
“Boys,” remarked Phœnix, “I wish we had shot some alligators. We might
have done it after we got to the mouth of the creek.”
“Perhaps that’s so,” said Phil; “but I was too anxious to get out
from among them to think of anything else. I’d given up the shooting
business.”
“I’m afraid we were a little scared,” said Chap, “and that we’ll be
laughed at when we get back without having fired a shot.”
“Let them laugh,” said Phœnix. “It won’t hurt half as much as to have
an alligator chewing at your legs.”
[Illustration]