THE PROFESSOR IN TROUBLE.
“Dancing dairy farms of Delaware!” gasped Dick. “What on earth is a
sea-cow?”
“Gives salt-water milk, I guess,” grinned Tom, greatly relieved,
however, to find that the blood-curdling noise was of animal and not
human origin.
“That shows that you young chaps have a heap to learn,” chuckled
Captain Sprowl. “The sea-cow don’t look no more like a cow than I do.”
“Ach, no! Der zee-cow iss der manatee,” put in the professor.
“That’s right, professor, and I guess we ain’t the first that’s been
scared by their unholy howlings,” said the captain.
“Idt pelongs py der family Manitidæ,” went on the professor, “undt is
vun of der Herbiverous Cetacea.”
“In plain United States, it’s a sort of grass-eating fish,” explained
the captain, “although it looks something like a big, clumsy seal.
There must be a river some place about here, for they always live near
the mouth of streams. I’ve seen ’em twenty feet long; but, in general,
they run about twelve feet. Had one upset a canoe under me in Florida
once; but there ain’t many left there now.”
“A river!” exclaimed Jack. “Well, then, that unearthly racket means
that we’ve found a place to land on, for a river will do just as well
as dry land so far as we are concerned.”
“By the holy poker! You’re right, lad,” declared the captain; “bear
off a few points to the north there. That’s where that sea-going dairy
ranch is located, to judge by the racket.”
Jack swung the air craft, as she now was, in the direction indicated.
They flew above the densely growing tree tops for a short distance,
and then they suddenly found themselves above the estuary of a
fair-sized river. Sand-bars and small, marshy islands lay in every
direction in the delta, and as the shadow of the _Wondership_ fell upon
the land below, numerous large, dark-colored animals, looking like
gigantic slugs, slipped off into the water with alarmed grunts and
cries.
“There’s your sea-cows,” said the captain, waving an explanatory hand
downward toward the vanishing forms.
Jack swung the _Wondership_ in a long semi-circle, and then began to
glide earthwards. The descending planes were set and the ship shot
downward with great rapidity. They all clung on tightly, and in a few
minutes, with a mighty splash, the _Wondership_ was resting on the
surface of the river, hemmed in by the dark tangle of jungle that
grew down to the water’s edge on both sides. They could see the river
winding its way seaward for some distance till a bend hid its further
course.
On the bar outside the surf thundered and roared unceasingly. But on
the shadowy river all was silent as a country graveyard. A moist,
steamy atmosphere enveloped them, strongly impregnated with the smell
of rank vegetation and rotting timber.
The sun was getting low, and in the shadow of the great trees it was
already twilight.
As the _Wondership_ alighted, Jack was compelled to start the propeller
once more, for the current ran so swiftly that otherwise the craft
would have been borne down stream upon one of the sandy islets from
which the sea-cows had vanished.
The whirr of the great screw sounded oddly amidst the solemn hush of
the evening, and the _Wondership_ began to forge ahead. It glided
slowly up stream against the muddy-colored torrent that was sweeping
down. The travelers’ eyes were busy in the meantime, taking in every
detail of the strange scene into which they had, literally, dropped.
All at once the craft rose as though lifted from beneath and lurched so
that Tom, who was standing up, was almost thrown out.
“Goodness! What’s that, an earthquake?” he gasped, gripping one of the
stanchions that supported the gas-bag part of the craft.
“No, only one of those sea-cows that wished to pay his respects,”
laughed Jack, as a blunt nose appeared for an instant above the turgid
waters and gave a mighty grunt.
“I hope the others will be less strenuous in their attentions,”
declared Mr. Chadwick. “I think that fellow must have dented his nose.”
“I don’t care about his nose so long as he hasn’t damaged us,” declared
Tom. “I’m going to shoot one of those fellows if I get a chance.”
“Are they good to eat?” Jack inquired of Captain Sprowl.
“Yes, the natives like ‘em,” was the reply. “I’ve eaten Maneater steaks
myself, but they’re as tough as all Billy-get-up; however, as a novelty
I suppose they’re all right, as the fellow said when they asked him to
eat a dish of French snails.”
Several bends of the river were made in this leisurely fashion. They
had proceeded some five miles when Captain Sprowl drew attention to a
lawn-like patch of ground sloping down to the river, which was hemmed
in by dark-foliaged mahogany trees.
“Looks to me like that would make a pretty fair camping ground,” he
said. “I don’t know how you all feel, but I know that, personally, some
supper would go about as good as anything I can think of.”
This appealed to all of them, and Jack ran the craft in alongshore.
The water was quite deep, even at the edge of the little natural
clearing, due to the rapid course of the river which had eaten the
bank away into a steep, precipitous ridge. The craft was made fast, bow
and stern, to two tree trunks, and they disembarked, carrying Judkins
ashore, despite his protests that he was quite able to walk.
Mr. Chadwick, who was somewhat of a doctor among his other
accomplishments, took a good look at the man’s injuries. He found that
his ankle was badly crushed but not broken, and with care would get all
right again. His wrist was more badly hurt, but with the help of the
medicine chest which they had brought along, that, too, ought to yield
to good treatment.
“Now there ain’t much more of daylight,” said Captain Sprowl, when they
had disembarked, “and we want to get grub as soon as possible. I’ll fix
up the camp while you boys scatter and get some wood.”
The boys hailed this opportunity to explore the forest about them with
a whoop of joy. But as they were starting off, Captain Sprowl hailed
them sharply.
“Take your rifles along.”
“What for? We can’t shoot down firewood, and we’ve got our pocket
axes,” declared Tom.
“You take your rifles,” repeated the captain. “It’s not a good plan to
go snooping about in this neck of the woods without firearms.”
“We might get some game anyhow,” said Jack, as he got his weapon out of
the boat; and the others did the same, Dick helping himself to one of
the spare stock, for they had brought several from the yacht.
This done, the lads set off into the jungle, promising to keep within
call and come back as quickly as possible.
They struck off into the closely growing vegetation and almost
immediately found use for their axes. Great lianas or creepers, as
thick as a man’s thigh, hung down like serpents from the taller trees,
and numerous flowering shrubs and heavily scented bushes barred the
way. It was hard work to find any growth that appeared suitable for
firewood. Everything was too rank and green for the purpose; but at
length they came to a clump of small trees that looked suitable.
“Now watch the Boy Lumberman!” cried Dick, swinging his axe with a
vicious swoop at the trunk of one of the smaller ones.
The next minute he uttered an eloquent cry of “Ouch!”
The sharp steel had rebounded from the wood, hardly leaving a notch on
it to show where it had struck. The axe handle, too, had “stung” Dick’s
hands sharply.
“Well, by the tall timbers of Texas,” he exclaimed amazedly, “what do
you know about that? Not a mark on this fellow, and I swung with all my
might! They must be made of steel.”
“Something like it, I guess,” said Jack. “I wouldn’t be surprised if
this was a clump of young iron-wood trees. I’ve read about them. The
wood is so heavy that it won’t float, and too tough to cut.”
“No doubt of that,” said Dick with conviction.
Leaving the iron-wood trees, they made their way a little further into
the twilight jungle, and before long found some trees that looked more
promising. On testing, these were found to cut easily and soon all
three axes were busy felling them and cutting them into lengths easy
for transportation.
Jack, too, discovered some dead timber that would make good kindling
wood. It was not long before each boy had a good pile of fuel at his
feet.
“I guess that’s enough,” said Jack, calling a halt. “We’ll be getting
back to camp. Hullo! what’s the trouble now?”
Through the woods had come a loud shout in a frightened, agitated
voice.
“Another of those sea-cows,” ventured Dick, “or maybe a sea-bull.”
“No! Hark! It’s the professor!” shouted Jack, as another cry came to
them.
“Ach du lieber! Help! Blitzen! Help!”
“Gracious, the professor is in serious trouble of some kind! Come on,
boys, this way!” cried Jack, and he dashed off in the direction from
which the frantic appeals had come, followed by the other two lads.