CHAPTER XXVII.
HOMEWARD BOUND.
WALTER awoke just as dawn was lighting up the floating forest, and heimmediately awakened his companions.
Breakfast was made off the frog legs and gar fish and as soon as it wasfinished, they took up their journey for Clearwater.
Charley took the lead, bearing the box with its precious batteries, andthe others followed carrying the handkerchiefs of food.
They soon found that it was going to be hard, slow traveling.They could only make slow progress picking their way between thedense-growing trees and over the slippery roots. Every few paces theywould have to stop and listen to make sure from the sound of the sea,that they were traveling in the right direction. At noon when theystopped to eat lunch, they estimated that they had covered but threemiles. But the slowness was not the worst feature of their march,every step had to be made with watchful care. Never in all theirFlorida experiences had they seen so many snakes. Many were harmless,brightly-colored, water snakes, which wriggled at their approach, butbesides these, there were dozens of moccasins sunning themselves on theroots,--great, sullen, sluggish reptiles they were, many being as bigaround as a man's leg. They would not move from the places where theylay and our little party had to pick their way carefully around each,for to be bitten by one would mean a horrible, agonizing death. To addto their troubles, they were constantly slipping and falling on theslippery roots, bruising and hurting themselves.
"I hope it isn't much further till we come to the end of thesecypresses," Charley said, as they nibbled at their lunch. "This kind ofgoing is dangerous. We are liable to break an arm or leg before we getout of here."
"Massa Chas," Chris observed, "why don't we-alls take to de water? Hitwould sho' be a heap easier an' we wouldn't be runnin' on dem peskysnakes all de time."
"Somebody kick me," Charley cried, sheepishly. "Of all the big fools inthis state, we are the biggest. Here we have been wearing ourselves outover these pesky roots when we might have been wading comfortably alongin the edge of the surf."
Until Chris had spoken, they had none of them thought of so simple asolution of their difficulty. Being on shore, it had been the naturalthing for them to try to make their way on shore.
No time was lost in following the little negro's suggestion. As alreadystated, there was no beach, the gulf meeting the forest, but the wateralong the edge of trees was not much over a foot in depth and thebottom was of hard sand. Their progress was now more rapid and freefrom the danger of snakes, but, much to their surprise, they found itmuch more tiring than the route over the roots. Only those who havetried walking in water for a distance, can realize the strain on theleg muscles.
By the middle of the afternoon, they were thoroughly tired out andCharley called a halt.
"We had better make camp," he said. "We don't want to wear ourselvesout the first day, and besides, it will take us some time to build aplatform and get ready for the night."
Accordingly, they made their way back among the cypress and fell towork. A platform was built and well bedded with moss and a good firestarted for the night.
For their supper, they only swallowed a few mouthfuls of theirprovisions. Truth to tell, the fish and frogs legs were beginning topall on their appetites.
"I wish there was some game in this uncanny forest," Walter observed."This stuff does not taste as good as it did. I believe, there is truthin that old statement that a man cannot eat a quail a day for thirtydays."
"This forest is alive with game," Charley declared. "It's here evenif we don't see it. Of course, there are no deer or bear for theyavoid these watery places, but there are plenty of coons, wild cats,panthers, possums, and such things. I'll bet, there are at least adozen animals watching our camp-fire right now and puzzling over it.Oh, there's plenty of game. The difficulty is to get it without guns ortraps. I have been studying how to get some of it, and I think I havegot an idea that may work."
It still lacked some time before dark, and Charley immediately beganto carry out his idea. It was absurdly simple. Returning to the gulf'sedge, a short search discovered several short, heavy pieces of timberdrifted up among the trees. These they lugged back a ways from shore.Each timber was laid upon as flat a surface of roots as they couldfind. One end was then raised up a couple of feet and supported on astick. To the stick they tied a couple of frogs legs and some of thebones from the gars.
"It's rather a primitive method of trapping but it may work," Charleyobserved. "The idea is that the animal pulling away at the bait willdislodge the stick and be crushed by the falling timber. Many animals,though, are too cunning to be tempted under such a dangerous-lookinglog, and others are quick enough to dodge its fall."
It was now nearly dark and our little party hurried back to theirplatform and fire for they had no desire to move about amongst theroots and snakes after night.
They were sleeping soundly when a succession of ear-splitting shrieksroused them into frightened wakefulness. It sounded like a woman cryingout in mortal agony, but they had heard the sound before in theirtravels and knew it for a panther's screams. The animal was evidentlyclose to them and they hastened to throw fresh fuel upon the dwindlingfire. As the flames shot up the screaming ceased and the crashing ofboughs told them of the hurried departure of the midnight prowler. Assoon as the sounds died away, they stretched out to sleep once moreknowing that they were in no danger so close to the fire.
Their first act on awakening in the morning was to look at the traps.They had set five altogether and every one had been sprung. The firsttwo had caught nothing in their fall. Pinioned under the third, theyfound a large, fat possum, the fourth held a snarling coon by one leg,while the fifth and last, was empty but splattered with blood and hair.
"Here's where Mr. Panther got himself a feed," Charley observed. "Therewas a coon, or possum under this log until he came along and made hissupper. I'll bet, he's chuckling to himself right now over the easymeat."
The coon and possum were skinned at once and roasted on sticks over thecoals. None of them ate much of the coon--its meat tasted somewhat likeyoung pork but was rather too fat and strong, in flavor. The possum,however, they found delicious, the meat being white, tender and sweet.
As soon as they had eaten and tied up what remained in theirhandkerchiefs, they once more took up their journey.
They traveled steadily all the morning but with no signs apparent ofreaching the edge of the belt of cypress. As far as they could seeahead of them along the shore the forest continued in an unbroken line.
Noon brought them to a serious obstacle, a broad, slow-flowing river ofblack, muddy water. They were all good swimmers and could have easilyswam the half mile which separated them from the other shore, but thesight of several large, floating, log-like objects made them hesitateto attempt it.
"Those are either alligators or crocodiles," Charley said. "We hadbetter make sure which they are before we venture in. Alligators arecowardly creatures, and will seldom attack a man, but crocodiles arenot to be trifled with."
It was some time before one of the floating monsters came near enoughto reveal its character but when it did they were glad they hadwaited. It was a vicious, scaly-looking crocodile, fully fifteen feetin length.
"Hard luck," commented Charley in disgust. "That means we will have tofollow this bank up until we can find a place we can cross and thenfollow the other bank back to the gulf again. It may be only a fewmiles or it may be a hundred. It may take us a day or it may take us aweek."
"I wonder what river this is?" Walter said. "If we only knew, we couldtell where we are."
"It's impossible to say for certain," his chum replied. "There area lot of big rivers emptying into the gulf. I am inclined to think,however, that this is the Snake River. It fits the description I'veheard of the Snake. Well, let's have dinner and then we'll start tofollow it up."
A fire was lit and while it was getting under way, Walter succeeded incatching a leather-back turtle of which there were numbers ba
sking onlogs. This they cooked by the simple expedient of burying it in thecoals and letting it roast in its own shell.
Ordinarily they would have relished its delicate flavor, but they werebeginning to tire of an all-meat diet. They were beginning to cravevegetables, bread, coffee, and the other varieties of food that make upcivilized meals.
They were munching the last of their frugal repast when they sprang totheir feet in amazed surprise.
"Good morning," said a voice right behind them.
Standing but a few feet away was a splendid-looking Indian lad, leaninggracefully upon a long-barreled rifle. "Good morning," said the youngSeminole again, smiling at their surprise.
"Good morning," stammered Charley, in reply. "Who are you? Where didyou come from? Where are we?"
The Seminole's smile widened at the volley of questions.
"My name is Willie John," he said in perfect English. "I come from theBig Cypress Swamp. Some of my people are camped there, hunting. You noware at the Snake River. It is about fifty miles from Tampa. Are youlost?"
"Yes," replied Walter, recovering from his surprise. "We are, or ratherwere, both shipwrecked and lost. We had begun to think that we were theonly people in the world. That's why your voice surprised us so."
"I see," said the Indian lad, with his pleasant smile. "Perhaps it willbe very pleasant to help you a little."
The Boy Chums Cruising in Florida Waters Page 27