“Where did you ever learn that trick, Tony?” asked Phil, as they once more went aboard the motor boat, Larry to change his clothes before thinking of fishing, and Tony to continue the task at which he had been employed, just as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened to disturb him.

“I tell yuh,” replied the swamp boy. “McGee, he one time think he have to get out this part of country and locate ’way down south. Hear lots ‘bout Everglades, an’ go down coast with sponger on sailboat, tuh see if worth while. I was ‘long that trip down tuh gulf; an’ McGee, he send me back with other men. But I wanter go ‘long an’ see them Everglades; hear heap ‘bout same from one o’ our men. Waited till I get chance, an’ crawl ’board sailboat, hide in locker forward. They never find me till I get so hungry second day, have tuh come out.”

Phil noticed that Tony seldom referred to the head of the clan as his “father”; it was nearly always “McGee”; just as if he felt more respect for him as the leader of the settlement, than regard for him as his parent.

“I suppose your father was considerably surprised?” he remarked, smiling.

Tony shrugged his shoulders, as though the memory were not altogether pleasant.

“He was mad clean through,” he replied. “He knock me down once, and say he ought to throw me overboard. Then he change his mind, and larf, tellin’ me I was a chip o’ the same old stick, er somethin’ that way. Arter that he act right good, an’ I do the cookin’ foh the lot. So then we get tuh Everglades. But he never take tuh things down thar like here, an’ change mind ’bout leavin’.”

“But about the alligator trick, Tony?” asked Larry, who was listening eagerly all me while.

“Come tuh that now, Larry, you see,” answered the other, nodding pleasantly. “Meet Injuns down thar. Seminoles they call ’em. Wear shirt, vest, an’ a heap o’ red stuff wind ’round head; that all. I talk much with Injuns; they tell me how they many times ride on back of big bull. I never hear such thing, an’ want’er see, so they take me out in swamp, and one boy he do same.”

“Yes,” broke in Phil, “I guess you wasn’t satisfied to have an Indian beat you in such a trick; and you couldn’t rest until you had copied him; isn’t that just about right, Tony?”

The swamp boy chuckled as he nodded.

“Reckon I did, Phil,” he said, modestly. “Climb on ’gator back while Injun boy thar, push him off, an’ keep up game. Never let Injun beat me. But McGee, he shake his head when I tell him, an’ look hard at me. Then he larf, an’ jest turn ’way.”

“I guess he knew there was just no use trying to hold you back, Tony. Say, Larry, are you going to try for fish this evening?” Phil called out.

“I’m ready right now, with some of those nice fat grubs Tony caught me,” replied the other, coming out of the boat with dry clothes on.

“Well,” continued Phil, “I wanted to say that after all that row here, the chances are you’d never get a bite in a coon’s age. If I were you I’d just go up the shore a bit.”

“Why up instead of down?” asked Larry, always curious to know the why and wherefore of everything, as a budding lawyer should.

“For one thing, you muddied the water below,” Phil went on. “Then again, perhaps you noticed that the old mossback headed downstream; and so the chances are the fish might be scared away for some distance.”

“Oh! now I catch on to what you mean, Phil,” Larry spoke up. “But you see, there are so many things I don’t know about woodcraft, that I’ve just got to keep asking questions. Then I’ll go upstream, and try my luck.”

“Be careful not to get out of sight of the boat,” warned the other.

Larry looked a bit dubious at these words. He stood there for a minute as if hesitating whether to go or not. But like most boys he disliked to have a chum imagine he were capable of showing the white feather; so presently he sauntered off.

Phil had been observing him out of the corner of his eye, and chuckled a little at noting how loth Larry seemed to be to depart. But Phil did not mean to let the other get out of his sight at this interesting stage of the game. Larry had a weakness for doing just the things he ought to avoid. He could get lost, or fall overboard, or even tumble into a bed of soft ooze, quicker than any one Phil knew.

So, in a few minutes he picked up the gun, and said in a low tone to Tony, who was doing something aboard the boat:

“Guess I’ll take a little circuit around for a few minutes. I won’t go far; but I want to keep an eye on Larry. He seems to have a weakness for tumbling in; or having something out of the way happen to him. And just now, you know, Tony, when we’re so close to your home, I’d hate to have an accident happen to break up all my plans.”

Tony did not reply, though he nodded his head to announce that he heard. Perhaps he was a little afraid lest Phil might try to swing around over too large a circuit, and come in contact with some detachment of the shingle-makers from the nearby settlement.

So Phil sauntered off. He realized that there was no excuse for his wandering far, even had the mood been upon him, which was not the case. The going was bad; and with night close at hand it would have been the utmost folly to have started on a reconnoitering trip.

He simply swung around, and then from the rear approached the spot where Larry was engaged in fishing. The other was evidently having some luck, for Phil saw him take one good-sized bass from his hook; and his eager actions would indicate that the finny tribe gave evidence of being hungry.

It was far from Phil’s intention to alarm his chum. He simply walked toward him, meaning to speak when he arrived at a closer point; and then so as not to disturb the fishing; for as an ardent sportsman Phil believed that sounds would carry in the water, and frighten even hungry bass.

He was therefore considerably surprised to see Larry suddenly start up, and dropping his split bamboo rod in a panic, commence running down the bank of the river, showing all the evidences of fright.

Phil glanced hurriedly around. It did not occur at once to him that his own coming must have alarmed the timid Larry; and he half expected to see some gruff swamp squatter heave in sight, as he sent that inquiring look around.

There was nothing near to cause the alarm; not even a bear or a wandering raccoon, so far as he could determine. Then it dawned upon him that Larry must have discovered the apparently stealthy approach he was making, and had naturally suspected that it was some would-be abducter stealing up on him. And Larry seriously objected to being thus carried off.

“Hey! where you going, you Larry?” Phil called out, as soon as he could command his voice for laughing at the ridiculous figure his fat chum presented, sprinting madly along the bank of the stream.

At that Larry slackened his speed, and even condescended to twist his fat neck, so that he could send a look of inquiry back over his shoulder. When he discovered that the supposed kidnapper was only his chum, who seemed to be doubled up with merriment, Larry came to a full stop. Then he started to slowly retrace his trail, shaking his head and grumbling to himself.

“’Twa’n’t hardly fair of you, Phil, giving me all that trouble for nothing,” he was saying as he drew near, looking a little sheepish because of his recent wild sprint.

“Excuse me, Larry,” his chum replied, with becoming regret, though his dancing eyes rather belied his humble tone; “I sure never meant to alarm you one whit. I didn’t call out because you seemed to be having a great time with the bass; and sometimes noise stops a biting rally. But I never thought you’d be so keen to get on to me coming along.”

“Well, perhaps I wouldn’t a while back, Phil, but I’m learning things every day, you see. And besides, didn’t you as much as tell me to keep an eye out for any sort of moving thing? That’s what I was adoing right now. I saw something creeping along. The shadows are gathering back there under the trees, and I couldn’t make out in that one peek what it was. I just cut and run as the safest way.”

“And I guess you were right,” said Phil. “It might have been a hungry panther wanting to make a meal on you. You know, I always said that if any wild beast was prowling around in search of a supper, he’d pick you out, first pop. That’s because you’re such a nice, plump morsel.”

“Oh, rats! don’t make me blush, Phil. Then, if I had to stay down in these diggings long, I’d sure make it a point to lost some weight. It ain’t exactly pleasant you see, knowing that even the wild critters are having their mouths water at sight of you. But look at that big bass I yanked in, would you? Must weigh all of six pounds, and enough for our supper alone.”

“Did he pull hard?” asked the other, stooping to notice the gasping fish, and to also strike the prize a sharp blow back of the head that immediately killed it; for Phil was a humane disciple of Izaak Walton, and believed in putting even his captures out of suffering immediately, which is a point for all Boy Scouts to heed.

“Well, for just the first few seconds, yes; and then he seemed to come in like a log, with his big mouth open. Not so much game about him after all. Say, I hope now, Phil, he ain’t sick! I’d just hate to have all our supper go to waste that way!”

The other laughed aloud.

“Bless you, Larry!” he exclaimed, “this fish is all right, and as fit to eat as anything. It’s just a way they have down here, where the water is always warm. If that same fish had lived in the cold streams up North you’d have had the time of your life getting him ashore with that fine tackle. The climate affects even the native crackers the same way. Where it’s warm, and people don’t have to hustle just to keep living, they grow lazy. Some people call it the hookworm, you know. My dad often writes articles about it. But to me it seems just pure laziness, and nothing more.”

“Now,” said Larry, ready for argument at once, as he gathered up his catch, and started down the bank toward the boat, “I just don’t agree with you about that business. It ain’t just warm weather that makes these crackers shiftless. Take the mountaineers up in West Virginia and Tennessee. They sure get plenty of cold weather most of the year round; and yet they’re just like these crackers of the far South. There is a hookworm, as sure as you live. I only hope we don’t get it fastened on us while we’re down here.”

“I see you’ve been reading up on that subject,” remarked Phil. “And some other time we’ll get busy again over it. My dad is up on all those subjects and I’m taking some interest myself. But if that’s so, then these green trout, as they call the big-mouth bass down here, must have the hookworm bad; for they’re just the laziest things I ever saw pulled in.”

Tony insisted on taking the catch, and preparing it for cooking; while Larry started up the useful little Jewel stove. Phil would have really kindled a fire under the twisted live oak ashore, only that Tony seemed averse to such a proceeding; and he had promised the swamp boy to avoid doing what was bound to bring the squatters down upon them during the night.

The supper was cooked in detachments. First they had the fried fish, for which the largest frying-pan had to be used. Crackers went well with this; and later on the coffee being boiled, they enjoyed a fragrant cup of Java, together with some cakes that had been put up in air-proof packages, and were as fresh as the day they left the New York bakery.

The night settled down. Clouds had covered the heavens at sundown, and so they had next to no benefit from the moon, though it was evidently mounting some distance above the horizon in the east.

Sitting there later on Phil wondered what the near future held in store for himself and his chum. Would their presence be discovered by the men from the settlement, so that before the coming of dawn they might expect callers; or on the other hand, was it possible for him to carry out his own plan, entering the squatter settlement of his own free will, and demanding to see the terrible McGee, before whom most men had up to this time quailed?

But it was all as mysterious and dark as the night shades gathering there around the motor boat, tied up under the weird twisted live oak.