Walterawoke just as dawn was lighting up the floating forest, and he immediately awakened his companions.
Breakfast was made off the frog legs and gar fish and as soon as it was finished, they took up their journey for Clearwater.
Charley took the lead, bearing the box with its precious batteries, and the 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 the dense-growing trees and over the slippery roots. Every few paces they would 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 they stopped to eat lunch, they estimated that they had covered but three miles. But the slowness was not the worst feature of their march, every step had to be made with watchful care. Never in all their Florida experienceshad they seen so many snakes. Many were harmless, brightly-colored, water snakes, which wriggled at their approach, but besides these, there were dozens of moccasins sunning themselves on the roots,—great, sullen, sluggish reptiles they were, many being as big around as a man's leg. They would not move from the places where they lay 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 add to their troubles, they were constantly slipping and falling on the slippery roots, bruising and hurting themselves.
"I hope it isn't much further till we come to the end of these cypresses," Charley said, as they nibbled at their lunch. "This kind of going is dangerous. We are liable to break an arm or leg before we get out of here."
"Massa Chas," Chris observed, "why don't we-alls take to de water? Hit would sho' be a heap easier an' we wouldn't be runnin' on dem pesky snakes all de time."
"Somebody kick me," Charley cried, sheepishly. "Of all the big fools in this state, we are the biggest. Here we have been wearing ourselves out over these pesky roots when we might have been wading comfortably along in the edge of the surf."
Until Chris had spoken, they had none of them thought of so simple a solution of their difficulty.Being on shore, it had been the natural thing for them to try to make their way on shore.
No time was lost in following the little negro's suggestion. As already stated, there was no beach, the gulf meeting the forest, but the water along the edge of trees was not much over a foot in depth and the bottom was of hard sand. Their progress was now more rapid and free from the danger of snakes, but, much to their surprise, they found it much more tiring than the route over the roots. Only those who have tried walking in water for a distance, can realize the strain on the leg muscles.
By the middle of the afternoon, they were thoroughly tired out and Charley called a halt.
"We had better make camp," he said. "We don't want to wear ourselves out the first day, and besides, it will take us some time to build a platform and get ready for the night."
Accordingly, they made their way back among the cypress and fell to work. A platform was built and well bedded with moss and a good fire started for the night.
For their supper, they only swallowed a few mouthfuls of their provisions. Truth to tell, the fish and frogs legs were beginning to pall 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 truth inthat old statement that a man cannot eat a quail a day for thirty days."
"This forest is alive with game," Charley declared. "It's here even if we don't see it. Of course, there are no deer or bear for they avoid these watery places, but there are plenty of coons, wild cats, panthers, possums, and such things. I'll bet, there are at least a dozen 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 or traps. I have been studying how to get some of it, and I think I have got an idea that may work."
It still lacked some time before dark, and Charley immediately began to carry out his idea. It was absurdly simple. Returning to the gulf's edge, a short search discovered several short, heavy pieces of timber drifted 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 could find. One end was then raised up a couple of feet and supported on a stick. To the stick they tied a couple of frogs legs and some of the bones from the gars.
"It's rather a primitive method of trapping but it may work," Charley observed. "The idea is that the animal pulling away at the bait will dislodge the stick and be crushed by the falling timber. Many animals, though, are too cunning to betempted under such a dangerous-looking log, and others are quick enough to dodge its fall."
It was now nearly dark and our little party hurried back to their platform and fire for they had no desire to move about amongst the roots and snakes after night.
They were sleeping soundly when a succession of ear-splitting shrieks roused them into frightened wakefulness. It sounded like a woman crying out in mortal agony, but they had heard the sound before in their travels and knew it for a panther's screams. The animal was evidently close to them and they hastened to throw fresh fuel upon the dwindling fire. As the flames shot up the screaming ceased and the crashing of boughs told them of the hurried departure of the midnight prowler. As soon as the sounds died away, they stretched out to sleep once more knowing 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 first two had caught nothing in their fall. Pinioned under the third, they found 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. "There was 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 easy meat."
The coon and possum were skinned at once and roasted on sticks over the coals. None of them ate much of the coon—its meat tasted somewhat like young 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 their handkerchiefs, they once more took up their journey.
They traveled steadily all the morning but with no signs apparent of reaching the edge of the belt of cypress. As far as they could see ahead of them along the shore the forest continued in an unbroken line.
Noon brought them to a serious obstacle, a broad, slow-flowing river of black, muddy water. They were all good swimmers and could have easily swam the half mile which separated them from the other shore, but the sight of several large, floating, log-like objects made them hesitate to attempt it.
"Those are either alligators or crocodiles," Charley said. "We had better make sure which they are before we venture in. Alligators are cowardly creatures, and will seldom attack a man, but crocodiles are not to be trifled with."
It was some time before one of the floating monsters came near enough to reveal its character butwhen it did they were glad they had waited. It was a vicious, scaly-looking crocodile, fully fifteen feet in length.
"Hard luck," commented Charley in disgust. "That means we will have to follow this bank up until we can find a place we can cross and then follow the other bank back to the gulf again. It may be only a few miles or it may be a hundred. It may take us a day or it may take us a week."
"I wonder what river this is?" Walter said. "If we only knew, we could tell where we are."
"It's impossible to say for certain," his chum replied. "There are a 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've heard of the Snake. Well, let's have dinner and then we'll start to follow it up."
A fire was lit and while it was getting under way, Walter succeeded in catching a leather-back turtle of which there were numbers basking on logs. This they cooked by the simple expedient of burying it in the coals and letting it roast in its own shell.
Ordinarily they would have relished its delicate flavor, but they were beginning to tire of an all-meat diet. They were beginning to crave vegetables, bread, coffee, and the other varieties of food that make up civilized meals.
They were munching the last of their frugal repastwhen they sprang to their feet in amazed surprise.
"Good morning," said a voice right behind them.
Standing but a few feet away was a splendid-looking Indian lad, leaning gracefully upon a long-barreled rifle. "Good morning," said the young Seminole again, smiling at their surprise.
"Good morning," stammered Charley, in reply. "Who are you? Where did you 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 the Big Cypress Swamp. Some of my people are camped there, hunting. You now are at the Snake River. It is about fifty miles from Tampa. Are you lost?"
"Yes," replied Walter, recovering from his surprise. "We are, or rather were, both shipwrecked and lost. We had begun to think that we were the only people in the world. That's why your voice surprised us so."
"I see," said the Indian lad, with his pleasant smile. "Perhaps it will be very pleasant to help you a little."
"Perhapsyou can tell us how far we will have to go up this river before we find a place where we can cross?" Charley said.
"I can do better than that. I can take you across. I have a canoe but a little ways from here," replied the Indian lad.
"Good," exclaimed Walter, with pleasure. "That will help us out a lot. We were dreading the trip around."
"We can cross as soon as you wish," offered the young Seminole.
"Let's sit a while and rest," suggested Charley, whose curiosity was aroused by the manner and speech of the splendid young savage. "Are there many of your people camped at the Big Cypress?"
"About one hundred. The Seminoles are becoming as the leaves in autumn," said the lad, sadly. "There are only four tribes of us left. One is camped at Fort Lauderdale, one at Indiantown, another tribe is hunting in the Glades, and we are at the Big Cypress. Only four hundred left of aonce powerful race." His voice and face took on a deeper tinge of melancholy as he said, "Soon we will all be gone and only be a memory growing dim with the passing years."
"Oh, I guess, it's not as bad as that," said Charley, cheerfully. "The Seminoles will gradually adjust themselves to civilization and begin to increase once more."
"We are a homeless people," declared the lad. "Your race took all, except this swamp. Here we have lived at peace where no white man would live and now even it is being taken from us. Every week from the East Coast, great canals, like rivers, creep further and further into the swamp. And as fast as they creep in follow the whites with ploughs and teams. Houses spring up over night. The forest and deer vanish, and green fields take their place. Soon the great swamp will be no more."
"But surely that is good," Charley argued. "It is the onward march of civilization."
"Civilization," echoed the Indian, bitterly. "Will civilization make my people better? They are truthful, they are honest, they are cleanly in mind and body. Will civilization make them better?"
Charley was silenced. Apart from education, he knew the Seminoles were the superior of his own race in morals.
"No, civilization will not improve us, but it iscoming to us. Nothing can stop it. The white man rejoices at its advance, the red man is sad and troubled. The great writer Kipling says,—
'The toad beneath the harrow knowsExactly where each tooth point goes,The butterfly beside the road,Preaches contentment to the toad.'"
Our little party marveled at this strange youth, a savage, yet educated, gentle mannered, and of a wisdom far beyond his years.
In reply to their questions, they learned that a noble white man, Dr. Fish, was spending his life in the heart of the Everglades, striving with all his might to do something for its unfortunate and deserving people. Amongst other things, he was educating the younger members of the tribe and trying to fit them for the inevitable struggle under the new order of things. They learned that their new friend was one of his pupils. That the lad was hunting for skins that he might earn the money necessary to go to college and fit himself to help his race in their distress.
Our little party were filled with admiration for the noble youth's lofty ambition. They reflected sadly that there were woefully few white boys fired by the same high ideals.
They would have liked to have tarried and talkedlonger with the interesting lad, but the slanting sun warned them that they must be on their way.
The young Seminole led the way to his canoe which proved to be a cranky, clumsy craft dug out of a big cypress tree. Used as they were to water crafts, they entered it with considerable doubt and care. As soon as they were safely aboard, the lad shoved off and with a long pole propelled the ungainly craft to the other side of the river.
"Follow the gulf," he directed, as they bade him good-by. "You ought to be out of the forest by to-morrow night. You will meet more rivers, but they contain no crocodiles so you will be able to cross them without danger."
He shook hands gravely with each at parting, repeating quaintly the words of a hymn the good missionary had doubtless taught him. As our little party once more took up their weary march, the familiar words so quaintly quoted by the solitary lad in the gloomy swamp kept thrumming through their thoughts.
"God be with you till we meet again,By His counsel guide uphold you,With His sheep securely fold you,God be with you till we meet again."
They tramped steadily the balance of the afternoon and at night made camp on the edge of anotherlarge river. Here they were fortunate enough in finding a large bed of big mussels or fresh-water oysters, upon which they made a delicious supper.
Sunrise found them again on their way, eager to be out of the somber, gloomy forest. They had already spent three days in its gloomy depths and they were heartily sick of it and its crawling serpents. They paused but a few minutes at noon to rest a bit, and to eat a few of the mussels they had brought with them, then pushed on again.
"I believe we are nearly out of this hateful forest," Charley said, as they waded along its edge. "It seems to me that the cypress are not quite so dense, and, I fancy, I can get a glimpse of some trees of a darker green ahead."
An hour's more wading proved his guess correct. Palmettoes, satinwoods, bays, and even pines, began to be mingled with the cypress. The color of the water changed gradually from its fresh blackness to the salt tinge of greenish-blue, and, at last, they came to a stretch of sandy beach which they hailed with joy for their feet were getting tender and sore from the constant wading.
Long before dark, they were clear of the dismal, floating forest and made camp on a high, sandy bluff by the side of a clear, purling little brook. Their supper was a feast; roasted buds of the cabbage palmettoes, black bass fresh from the creek,oysters, clams, crab claws, and for dessert, huckleberries which grew in profusion around them.
When it was finished, they stretched out on the beds they had made of dry, fragrant sea moss before the glowing fire in more hopeful spirits than they had been in many days. They were lying thus chattering contentedly when they received an unexpected visitor. He came as silently as an Indian. They neither saw nor heard him until he stepped into the fire's glow. He was a man of about forty years of age, dressed in buckskin and was of rather engaging appearance. His name, he said, was Watson, and he was a hunter and trapper.
From him they learned they were but a day's journey from Tampa, and that a good beach extended the whole distance.
The stranger stayed for at least two hours. He seemed to take an almost childish interest in their account of their misadventures and took an interest, that was pathetic, in all they could tell him of the news of the world outside. Events which had occurred two and three years before seemed to be news to him. Yet he appeared an educated, brainy man.
He stayed until the little party's yawns could not longer be suppressed, then departed as silently as he had come.
"Whew," sighed Charley, when at last he wasgone, "I would as soon entertain a rattlesnake as that man."
"Why?" Walter said, in surprise. "I thought he seemed bright and pleasant."
"Is it possible you have never heard of that man, Watson? I thought everyone in Florida knew of him."
"I have never heard of him, either," said Captain Westfield. "Who is he? Tell us about him."
"It's a horrible tale, yet pathetic, too, in a way," said the lad, thoughtfully. "From what I have often heard, we are now in what is sometimes called 'Murderer's Belt.' I have heard it referred to many, many times, but I had forgotten all about it until I heard that man's name. In this fringe of country bordering on the Everglades, it seems that there are some forty or fifty men hiding out. They are men wanted for serious crimes, murder in most cases, for nothing but the dread of being hung would induce men to lead the lives they are forced to live. They live solitary lives. The Indians will have nothing to do with them and they fear or mistrust each other too much to associate amongst themselves. Each one is as alone in the world as though he were in solitary confinement. They get their living with their traps and rifles. That's all they get out of life, just a living and freedom. An army could not capture one of them, except by surprise, for at the first alarm they plunge into theswamp where none but an Indian could follow them. I don't suppose that man Watson has even spoken to a human being in years until to-night. Only our apparent harmlessness induced him to seek speech with us, I believe. For Watson is the king murderer of the lot. He came to Florida some years ago from Georgia, with the law officers in close pursuit. It had been discovered up there that he was the author of a string of mysterious murders. Brutal, cold-blooded murders that had been going on for years. Some forty or forty-five years in all, I believe. The officers caught up with him at Tampa, but he killed two, wounded the third, and escaped into 'Murderer's belt.' With him was a young brother, who, so far as could be learned, had taken no part in his crimes, but the two seemed to stick together from mutual affection.
"Contrary to the usual custom in 'Murderer's Belt,' the two did not play it alone together as they should have done, but met and made friends with a man by the name of Cox who was about as hardened a character as Watson. The three hung together for a while, but one day there was a little quarrel and Cox shot the boy through the heart. He intended to kill Watson also and thought he had done so but the bullet glanced off on a button and Watson recovered his senses after a while to find his brother dead and Cox gone. They are both now seeking each other in the 'Belt.' Watson will tryto kill Cox at sight to avenge his brother, and Cox will try to kill Watson the first chance he gets to keep from being killed. Neither can appeal to the law for they are both outside the law. It's a case of man against man or rather murderer against murderer. Think of what their lives must be. Every hour, day and night, trying to kill or keep from being killed. Not seeing each other, but knowing every minute that the other is seeking him with murder in his heart, expecting death from behind every tree and bush."
"Massa Chas," said Chris, with a shudder, "youse gibbin' me de creep. Please not dat kind ob talk an' let's go to sleep."
Muchto their disappointment, our little party were forced to remain where they were the next day. The long, continuous soaking in the brackish water had made their feet so tender that walking on the sand was very painful. They prepared as usual for the start but they had not gone more than a hundred yards when they gave up the attempt and returned to where they had camped.
"It is just as well for us to lay by, a day, anyway," Charley observed in an attempt to force cheerfulness from their enforced detention. "Tampa is only a day away and we couldn't go into the city like we are. We would be arrested as tramps as soon as the police caught sight of us. Gee! but we are a tough-looking gang. Captain, you look like a typical 'Weary Willie.' All you need is a stick, a tomato can, and a handkerchief full of hand-outs to be a complete 'knight of the road.'"
"You haven't got any room to make fun of my appearance," grinned the old sailor. "You looklike a cross between a coal heaver and a chimney sweep and Walter looks just as bad. It don't show up quite as bad on Chris."
"Dat's de advantage ob bein' a nigger," agreed Chris, composedly. "A nigger can't show de dirt much. If I was one ob you white chillens I'd be plum ashamed ob myself—I sho' would."
And indeed, the little party was a sight to behold. Their clothes were stiff from mud, slime, and brine, and their skins were grimed from the smoke of their camp-fires. They had washed thoroughly, and often, but the mud and slime of the swamp had made useless all efforts to keep clean.
"First, we had better take a good wash ourselves and scrub good and clean with this white sand. Then wash out our clothes as good as we can. This warm sun will soon dry them out and keep us from catching cold. While they are drying, we can be getting something to eat for the day and fix up our feet. When that's all done we want to lay quiet the balance of the day and give our feet a chance to get into shape," said Charlie.
Without soap, the washing of their clothes was a slow, laborious job. Luckily their clothing was comparatively new and strong or it would never have stood the rubbing and pounding it received. At last, however, the operation was completed and their pants and shirts were spread on the bushes to dry. This done, they turned their attention to thelaying in of a supply of food for the day. While Chris, with the fish-line, sought a likely looking pool near the creek's mouth, Walter and Charley hunted for oysters and clams, and the captain busied himself in picking a generous supply of huckleberries. In a short time, the two boys had collected enough shell-fish for a couple of days, and joined the old sailor in picking the black, glossy berries. By the time they had gathered all that were wanted, Chris had succeeded in landing three big sea bass and a small shark about four feet in length.
"Hold on, don't do that," Charley exclaimed, as the little darkey was casting the shark back into the water. "That shark is the very thing we want. I would not take a dollar for it."
"Hit ain't no good to eat," protested Chris. "Hit tastes so strong you'd have hard work to swallow one bit of hit."
"I'll show you what I want it for," Charley said. "Just start up a little fire while the rest of us open up some clams and oysters for dinner."
When the fire was going briskly, the lad attacked the shark with his sheath-knife. Splitting it open, he cut out the fat and the liver from inside. These he placed in a big shell obtained from the beach and set the shell on the coals.
"Now get some nice, clean, Spanish moss," he directed, "and unravel a yard or so of that rope we brought with us. There's nothing better thanshark oil for a liniment. It is going to do our feet a world of good."
As soon as the oil was tried out in the shell, they rubbed it on to their swollen feet. The result was immediate and gratifying. The burning ceased at once and the aching visibly decreased. When they had rubbed the oil well in, they wrapped their feet up in Spanish moss which they bound in place with bits of the raveled rope.
"Now if we lay quiet and don't use them, they will be all right by to-morrow," declared Charley, with satisfaction. "I guess our clothes are dry by now. We had better put them on or this sun will have our backs blistered as sore as our feet."
The boys hobbled over to where they had spread out their clothes and to their satisfaction found them perfectly dry.
They were just slipping on their shirts when the captain descended upon them, wrath on his usually good-natured face.
"What have you done with my clothes?" he demanded, angrily. "This is no time for joking. Stop it right now."
"We haven't touched your clothes," Charley protested, indignantly. "They are just where you left them."
"They ain't," gasped the old sailor, paling, for he knew the lad always told the truth. "They're gone. Someone has stolen them."
"Whew," whistled Charley. "Some one of those murderers must have taken a fancy to them."
"I'd murder him, if I could get my hands on him," cried the captain, wrathfully. "How am I going to go into town in this fix."
Charley grinned as he caught the humor of the situation. "You could go into town all right," he said, "there wouldn't be any trouble about that. It's what they would do to you after you got into town. I don't really believe the police would stand for your present costume, Captain."
The old sailor glared at him in helpless wrath. "What am I to do?" he mourned. "My back is burning already."
"Sit down in the shade of that tree," Walter suggested, "the sun won't hit you there. We'll have to think up something for you. We would hardly care to enter the city with you in your present condition."
Charley had quickly seized upon a plan to clothe the old sailor but he could not resist the temptation to tease him a little.
"If we only had a barrel we could fix you out all right," he said, reflectively. "We could knock out the head and hang it from your neck by ropes."
"But we haven't got the barrel," said Walter, regretfully, catching his chum's wink.
The captain eyed them suspiciously but the two lads' faces were serious.
Walter appealed to his chum, gravely. "He might pretend he is a work of art," he suggested, "he's got a ship tattooed on his back, a mermaid on his chest, and a flying fish on each leg. Maybe Tampa is an art-loving city and will receive him with open arms."
"I am afraid not," Charley replied, gravely. "I expect it's just a big, rough, unartistic city. I think it would be better for him to enter as a nature-lover who had adopted the simple life."
"Good," exclaimed his chum, enthusiastically. "Just the thing. What a sensation it will make. I can just see the papers with his picture on the front page and the black head lines.
"Noted sea captain adopts the simple life and discards clothing. Says, 'go naked and you'll live to be a hundred.'"
"What's the name of that widow lady who was so interested in the captain, Mrs. Wick? I believe I'll send her one of the papers," said Charley, reflectively.
This was more than the old sailor could stand. "If you young idiots can't suggest anything sensible, for the Lord Harry's sake shut up," he spluttered.
"I don't see much we can suggest," Charley said seriously. "Our clothes are all too small for you or we would each give something to help dress you. There's no hope of getting your clothes back. Theonly thing I can think of, is to do you up in Spanish moss like they do roses and tender plants they send North."
"I guess Spanish moss is the only thing," admitted the captain. "It ain't much, but it's better than nothing."
So, with difficulty, restraining their laughter, the two lads proceeded to cover the old sailor with great bunches of the strong, long, Spanish moss, tying it securely to him with pieces of the raveled-out rope.
When they had finished, he was a queer and wonderful creature.
The sight was too much for Chris. The little darkey lay on the grass and rolled with laughter.
"Massa Cap, Massa Cap," he gasped, "you look jes' like a great big Teddy Bear."
The old sailor grinned feebly at the three, mirth-convulsed boys.
"I reckon I do look some funny," he admitted, "but I don't care. It's comfortable, and a heap sight decenter than nothing."
A look of anxiety came to his face and he winced visibly.
"What's the matter?" asked Charley. "No pins sticking in you?"
The captain scratched vigorously. "Thar's ants in that pesky moss," he declared, at which announcement the three boys let out a roar of laughter that made the woods ring.
It was verily a day of rest for the four wanderers. The balance of it was spent lying on their soft moss couches in the warm sunshine talking over past events and planning for the future.
With the night came Watson again to sit in the shadows by their camp and listen greedily to what they could tell him of the world outside. In spite of the man's bloody record of crime, they could not help a touch of pity for his loneliness. And the truth was more indelibly stamped on their minds that evil brings its own punishment.
They told him about the theft of the captain's clothes, and he listened attentively.
"I guess it was Black Sam took them," he commented. "He was in rags the last glimpse I got of him. He certainly needs clothes but I guess you need them worse. I'll get them back for you."
"Strangers," he said, as he rose to go, "I want you to do me a big favor. When you get outside send me a copy of the Atlanta Constitution. I ain't heard a thing of Georgia in years. Send it to Marco, care of Indian Charley, and I'll get it all right."
Charley promised him they would do so.
In the morning when they awoke, the captain's clothes were lying beside the fire.
They never knew exactly how Watson made Black Sam relinquish his prize but there was a large blood-stain on the shoulder of the cleanly-washed shirt and they formed their own opinion.
Theday and night of rest, together with the shark oil, had worked wonders with the sore feet and, much to their delight, the little party found that they could travel once more without pain.
After the weary days in the dismal swamp, they rejoiced in the new country they had entered. A broad, white sand beach made walking easy and their eyes were delighted with the ever-changing landscape. Soon they began to come upon signs of human habitation. Now a herd of cows grazing in placid contentment, and later, a little shack perched upon the beach and tenanted by a lone hermit of a fisherman. From him, they learned that they were within fifteen miles of the city of Tampa.
The captain purchased a package of tobacco from the hermit and was soon enjoying the first smoke he had had in many days.
The boys looked longingly at the fisherman's little sloop bobbing at anchor in the cove. They would have liked to have bargained for a passage to Tampa but they had too little money in their pockets to afford such a luxury.
It was nearly noon and the fisherman, with the ready hospitality of his calling, invited them to dinner, an invitation they were not slow to accept.
The meal was simple, but the vegetables tasted delicious after their steady meat diet, and they reveled in the strong, hot, fragrant coffee.
They did not linger long after eating, for they were anxious to reach their journey's end.
When about five miles from the friendly fisherman's, Charley called a halt.
"Listen, and see if you hear anything," he said. "I've been hearing a queer noise for the last ten minutes but maybe it's only my imaginations."
His companions stopped and listened.
"No, it isn't your imagination," the captain declared. "I can hear it, too—a kind of peculiar noise I can't describe."
"It sounds like the soft smacking of a thousand lips," Walter said. "I wonder what it is."
"We will soon find out," Charley replied. "It seems to come from somewhere ahead."
As they advanced, the peculiar noise became more distinct. It grew steadily in volume until at last they stood at what had once been the mouth of a creek, but which was now closed up, at the entrance, by a small mound of drifted sand, thus changing the former creek into a small lake.
"My goodness! Look at it!" gasped Charley, weakly, pointing at the land-locked pond.
"Jumping Moses," swore the captain, the nearest approach to an oath he ever permitted himself to use.
The peculiar noise came from the lake's surface. It was literally covered with tiny, open, gaping mouths.
"Mullet," Charley said, in a hushed voice, "mullet, thousands of them, tens of thousands of them, penned up in there like rats in a trap."
"And we without a net or boat," lamented Walter, bitterly. "Just our luck."
"Golly!" exclaimed Chris. "If we only had dese fish in Clearwater we wouldn't hab to worry 'bout money no more for awhile."
"They must have got caught in here during that gale," Charley pondered. "The heavy sea drifted up the sand and closed up the entrance so they could not get out into the gulf again. They can't live a great while longer in that small body of water. That great number must have about all the oxygen in the water exhausted by now. Their coming to the surface to breathe proves that. They seldom do that surface breathing. Let's have a look at that pond and see what it's like."
A hasty examination showed them that the lagoon was shallow, not more than three feet in the deepest places.
"Just an ideal place to catch them," Charley declared.
"Yes," agreed Walter, excitedly. "If we only had two or three nets we could tie them together and drag them across the pond like a seine."
Charley shook his head, decidedly. "That bunch would tear your nets to shreds if you tried that plan. Why, boy, you don't comprehend how many fish there are in that school."
"Well, I guess it's no use standing here looking at them any longer," said Walter, morosely. "We can't do anything with them, so we might as well be moving on."
"Yes, and moving fast too," Charley agreed, "but I have a hope that we can do something with those fish. They are worth trying for, anyway. It all depends on whether we can get to Clearwater and back again before they die, as they surely will as soon as all the air is gone from the water. Come on, let's hurry."
As they hastened along at top speed, he explained his plan.
"The first thing is to get to Clearwater," he declared. "Get the Roberts boys and their launch and nets, and all the other boats and nets we can get together, then come back here as quick as we can get back. Of course, we will have to divide up with the Roberts but they have been good friends of ours and deserve it. There's enough fish to pay all of us for the trouble if we find them still alive."
"Go your fastest, lad," said the old sailor, briefly, "you'll find us right at your heels."
And go fast Charley did. It called forth all the wind and strength of his three companions to keep up with him.
Just as night was falling, four tired, draggled-looking persons entered the ticket office of the Atlantic Coast Line in Tampa.
"When's the next train for Clearwater?" demanded one of the youths of the party, crisply.
"Just gone," answered the agent, briefly. "No more until morning."
"But we have got to get to Clearwater to-night," said the lad, desperately.
The agent noted the look of dismay on the four faces. "The Northern flier is due here in half an hour," he said, slowly. "She slows down a bit for the curve. If it's a matter of life or death you might be able to board her. I would not advise it, though. She does not slack down much at Clearwater and it would be pretty risky jumping off."
"Where's the best place to get on her?" asked the lad, briefly.
"Right down by the water tank. It's risky, though."
The lad thanked him, and the four hurried off for the water tank.
They boarded the train safely and stood on the platform hanging on to the rails as the fast limitedtore on in the darkness. They would have liked to have entered one of the coaches and rested on the cushioned seats but they were afraid the conductor would insist upon carrying them on to the next regular stop, a hundred miles beyond their destination.
It was but an hour's ride to the little town and the flyer barely slackened speed as she thundered into it. As the lights of the station flashed into view, they stepped down to the lowest step and jumped.
It was a fearful chance to take, but luck was with them. They landed in a bank of soft sand, and, although the breath was knocked out of them for a minute, they escaped unhurt except for Walter. He gained his feet, wincing with pain.
"I've twisted my ankle," he said. "Don't stop for me. I would only be a hindrance to you with this game foot. Go on. I'll hunt up a doctor and have it tended to."
Charley hesitated. "I don't like to leave you this way, old fellow," he said.
"I don't like to be left, either," said his chum, grimly, "but you can't do me any good by staying. Go on. Don't waste precious time."
Charley reluctantly obeyed.
Walter stood gamely watching them with a smile on his face until the three were out of sight, then he hobbled for the main street, his face contortedwith pain. His injury was far more serious than he had pretended. He was convinced that some bones in his foot were broken but he had concealed his plight from his chums for he knew they would not leave him if they thought his injury at all serious.
Followed by the captain and Chris, Charley headed for the little station not far away. There were a few loungers on the platform and amongst them he was pleased to see one of the fish-boat captains who had helped in the towing of the "North Wind."
"Is it you or your ghost?" he exclaimed, when Charley approached him. "Everyone thought you and your friends were lost in that gale."
"If we are ghosts, we don't know it," Charley laughed. "Say, can we hire you and your launch for a couple of hours?"
"You can," said the fish captain, promptly. "Fishing is so poor now I have quit it for a while. Where do you want to go?"
"First over to the island where we used to stay, and then across to the Roberts camp, if they are at home."
"Oh, you'll find them there all right. Fishing is so poor, now, it does not pay to go out."
Charley pulled out a five-dollar bill, the only money he had in his pocket.
"Here's your pay in advance," he said. "Wemay want to hire you for two or three days, but I'll let you know about that a little later. Just now, we are in a hurry. Can you take us right off?"
"Right away," said the fisherman, pocketing the bill with satisfaction. "My launch is tied up to the dock. Come on if you are ready."
In five minutes our little party was aboard the launch and headed for the island.
"Reckon there ain't much use going there," the fisherman remarked, as they sped along. "Someone has torn the cabin down and broken the dock you built all to pieces."
Charley smiled. Evidently Hunter had been doing all he could to discourage anyone else from occupying the island.
"We don't intend to live there, any more," he said. "I just want to go ashore there for a minute."
As the launch drew in close to the shore, he had him stop the engine and as soon as the keel touched bottom, he jumped overboard and waded ashore, carrying the launch's lantern.
"Wait here for me. I'll be back in a minute," he directed.
Once up near the cabin, he was not long in finding what he was after. He and his companions had taken in over a hundred dollars in cash from their sales of oysters and clams. It was too large a sumfor them to risk carrying around in their pockets and they had not cared to leave it unguarded in the cabin while they were away fishing, so they had wisely put it in a glass jar and buried the jar in a safe place, keeping out only enough for pocket money.
The lad found their little treasure undisturbed and stuffing it into his pockets he hurried back to the launch.
"Now head over for the Roberts camp," he commanded, as soon as he climbed aboard.
"I haverather a personal question to ask you, Captain Brown," Charley said, as the launch ploughed her way through the glowing water.
"Let's hear it," said the fisherman.
The lad hesitated. "It sounds rather impudent, but I want to know just how good a friend you are to Hunter and his gang?"
"Can't say that I am a friend of his at all," answered the man, frankly. "There are quite a few of us fishermen who have no particular love for him, but we all try to avoid trouble with him because he can make things pretty costly for a man in a secret, underhand way which leaves one nothing to grasp upon. I suspect you have found that out for yourselves."
"We have," admitted Charley, candidly. "It's a wonder to me, you fishermen, who do not like him, haven't got together and run him off before now."
"I expect it does look kind of queer to an outsider," replied the man, reflectively. "But it's natural enough when one gets to understand fishermen.You seldom find a fisherman but who has been more or less of a roamer and adventurer. Their lives have made them self-reliant and taught them the rather hard lesson that it don't pay to take up others' quarrels. Unconsciously, perhaps, their motto is 'leave me alone and I'll leave you alone.' They may really be in sympathy with a man, but they seldom will assist him in his disputes. That trait in them explains why Hunter lasts so long. They simply will not combine against him."
"I see," said Charley, thoughtfully, "that puts the matter in a new light to me. I had supposed they stood for Hunter and his ways because they approved of him and them."
"Not at all," said the other, warmly. "Most of the fishermen are pretty good fellows at heart, but 'hands off' is their policy."
"I am glad to learn that," Charley said, frankly. "I want to hire a few fishermen and their launches for a couple of days, but the work is rather important, and I want only men who will work for the interest of the man who pays them and not play into the hands of someone like Hunter."
"The fishermen will be true to their employer's interests," declared the other, emphatically.
"Good," said the lad. "I am going to trust to your judgment. As soon as you land us at Roberts' dock, I want you to go back to Clearwater and get four more launches with their skiffs and captains.Get the best and most trustworthy men you can pick out. If you can be back with them before midnight, it will mean five dollars extra for each of them and ten dollars extra for yourself. Bring plenty of gasoline for the launches, and provisions for two days for yourselves."
"I can get the men and boats all right," Captain Brown said, doubtfully, "but they will want ten dollars apiece per day, and not knowing you, they will want some money down."
Charley reached down into his pocket and pulled out the roll of bills at which the man gazed in amazement.
"Here's the first day's pay for each in advance," he said, counting out fifty dollars, "and remember there is five dollars extra apiece in the job if they are all at the Roberts dock ready to start at midnight."
"We'll all be ready in two hours," Captain Brown declared. "Here we are at the dock. I won't stop. Just jump out and give me a shove off. Time is worth money now," he grinned.
The three jumped out on the little pier, shoved the launch off, and it was quickly lost in the darkness.
Charley grinned as he stood for a moment listening to the rapid popping of the engine's exhaust.
"He's got that engine turning up as fast as it will go," he commented. "He means to get thatextra ten dollars, all right. Gee! but I've been using my nerve, spending money that belongs as much to the rest of you as it does to me."
"That's all right," approved Captain Westfield. "You are planning out this thing. Spend the last penny if you want to. I believe in letting one at a time run a thing. Others butting in only gum things up—a ship don't work well under more than one captain."
The light was still burning in the Roberts boys' cabin and a tap at the door brought forth an invitation to come in.
When the three stepped into the lighted room they were greeted with exclamations of amazed pleasure.
"It's good to see you all are safe again," cried the husky Bill, as he shook hands with a heartiness that made them wince. "We were mourning you as drowned. We did not believe your launch could have lasted out that gale."
"She didn't," Captain Westfield said. "She went to pieces on shore a good many miles down the coast."
"Tough luck," said the big fisherman, sympathetically. "You fellows do seem to hit it rough. It's too blamed bad, that's what it is."
"I believe our luck is due to change pretty soon," Charley said, with a smile. "How are things coming with you now?"
"Couldn't be much worse," Bill stated, briefly. "Goodness only knows what's become of all the fish. We haven't wet a net since the gale. What we lack of being stone-broke isn't much. We have only got about a hundred dollars in cash left but you are welcome to half of that. I guess you are worse off than we are."
The three chums' hearts warmed with gratitude at the big fellow's generous offer.
"We'll take the whole hundred, if you please," Charley said, calmly, "but not as a loan. We want you three as partners for a couple of days and the hundred will go to pay expenses. Can you give us a cup of coffee? We haven't had a bite to eat since noon."
While the big fisherman rustled around fixing a lunch and making the coffee, Charley told of their discovery.
"Whew, it sounds like finding money," Bill commented, when he had finished. "But we don't deserve any half share for just going with you and helping you out. Just pay us the same as you do the other fishermen."
"No," Charley said, and his two chums nodded vigorous approval of his words. "It isn't what you are going to do but what you have already done that counts with us. You helped us out when we were friendless, and it is only just that you should share in our good fortune if we have any. Butwe must not count our chickens before they are hatched. The fish may be all dead by the time we get there, or someone else may have found them—they were making noise enough to be heard a mile.
"Oh, we are making you no gift," he said, as Bill still protested against an equal division. "We may need your help and we need your money to pay off the launch men in case the trip is fruitless. It will take more cash than we've got. Besides, there may be some fighting."
"Too bad we have got to have anyone in this but ourselves," Bill observed.
"We have got to have help," Charley declared, "and, really, I do not fear any trouble from those who go with us. They are taking no nets with them, (I figured your three nets would be all we could use to advantage in such a small place). They have no idea as to our destination or what we are after. When they get there they will realize that it is too far away for them to come back, get their nets and return and do anything all tired out as they will be from the trip. Besides, I planned to offer them a bonus in money after we get there, provided they work good and hard."
"You've got a long head on you," Bill said, admiringly. "You've evidently got it all planned out."
"I tried to plan so far as I could," Charley said,modestly. "Where I fear trouble is when the fish begin to come into Clearwater. There will be a stampede of the other fishermen on us then. Put all your guns and ammunition in the launch. We may need them."
While the three were eating, the Roberts packed up groceries and rolled up blankets for the trip. These, and the rifles, they carried down to the launch while the chums were finishing their coffee.
They were ready none too soon, for as the chums drained their cups, they caught the mingled popping of the coming launches.
It still lacked twenty minutes to midnight when the last launch came churning up to the end of the little dock.
Charley counted out five dollars and handed it to each of the launch captains. "This is for being ahead of the time set. You'll each get your ten dollars apiece at the close of each day. Now, if you are all ready, we'll be off."
"Where are we going, Boss?" questioned one of the captains.
"I do not know the name of the place," the lad replied, thoughtfully. "Just follow our launch. We will lead the way."
In a few minutes the things were all stowed aboard and Bill started up the engine. The launch leaped ahead and, with bow headed down the coast, sped away in the darkness closely followed by theother boats containing four contented, but thoroughly mystified, captains.
As soon as they were fairly under way, our three chums stretched out on the launch's cushioned seats for a nap. They were completely worn out by the eventful day and night.
At sunrise Charley was awakened by Bill.
"We've been running without a hitch all night," the big fisherman informed him. "We must be getting near to your creek by now. We passed Tampa over an hour ago."
Charley stood up and surveyed the shore-line. "I took a landmark before I left," he said. "There's a great, dead, pine tree standing up amongst a clump of palmettoes just to the south of the creek. I believe I can see it ahead there a couple of miles."
At the end of ten minutes, he could make out the big, dead pine plainly.
He awakened his chums and the three sat tense and impatient waiting to see if all their hopes and trouble had been in vain.
When within a few hundred yards of the creek, Charley could stand the suspense no longer.
"Stop the engine," he requested, in a fever of impatience.
Bill threw off the battery switch. The four wondering captains trailing behind followed his example and the throbbing of the engines ceased.
The lad stood up and listened intently. His quick ear could just distinguish a faint, peculiar noise, like the soft smacking of thousands of lips.
He sank back into his seat with a sigh of relief.
"It's all right," he exclaimed, delightedly. "I can hear them. Run in close to shore and anchor."
Assoon as the anchors were dropped all scrambled into the skiffs, eager to be ashore.
They landed close to the sand spit that barred the creek's entrance, and a few steps brought them to where they could look in on the little inland lake. All stood silent for a moment, gazing at the thousands on thousands of little, open, gasping mouths.
"I expected to see some fish from what you told us but I didn't expect anything like this," said Bill, drawing a deep breath. "Boy, there's a pot of money waiting for us in that little pond."
The other fishermen's faces were expressive of amazement and envy.
"You might have let us in on this," one of them grumbled.
"Would any of you have done it for us if you had found them?" Charley demanded.
"I wouldn't," the man admitted. "But, all the same, ten dollars a day looks mighty small with all this money in sight."
"We need every dollar we can make off of this thing," the lad said, "but we want to be as generousas we can afford to be. We are going to do better by you than we bargained to do. If you all do your best to help us put these fish into Clearwater, we will give you ten per cent on what we make in addition to the ten dollars a day we promised you."
"That's more than fair," declared Captain Brown. "We will do our best. All hands had better get to work at once. Those fish are about all in. I doubt if they will live thirty-six hours longer."
Charley had planned everything on the way down the coast and he had already arranged each man's part so that the work might be done with system and despatch. The Roberts and himself were to do the work with the nets. The fishermen were to do the loading, with the captain to help them. All of them were to work on one launch at a time and as soon as it was loaded it was to start for Clearwater while the next one received its cargo.
To Chris was assigned the job of cooking for all hands, so that no time would be lost in the preparation of meals.
Charley and the Roberts had taken on themselves the hardest part of the work, but the four went at their nasty, disagreeable task with vigor and cheerfulness.
Taking an end of the joined nets, they waded across one end of the shallow lagoon stringing itout behind them. As soon as they had gotten the end to the opposite shore, two got to each end and pulled lustily.
They had been careful to cut off only a small portion of the lagoon, but even so, they found that the fish between the net and shore were almost more than they could handle. They had to pull with all their might to drag in the ladened net, and as they pulled, they feared each minute that the fine twine would give way under the tremendous pressure.
But at last they got the net ashore, its meshes full of struggling, silvery mullet.
Then began the tiring work of getting the fish out of the fine, tangling twine. As fast as they were taken out they tossed them into a large box, and as soon as the box was filled, a fisherman carried it to the waiting skiffs and dumped the load, returning for another.
In two hours the first launch was loaded, and started back for Clearwater.
Walter, his ankle done up in splints and bandages, and using a cane for a crutch, limped into the fish house, the day following his accident, and sought a seat on a pile of old nets in a corner where he was not likely to be seen by Mr. Daniels. He had not sought the kindly fish boss yet to tell him of the loss of the launch. He was deferring the unpleasant task in hopes that his chums would be successful when the telling would be easier. Besides,he was not feeling equal to the task of explaining. His foot pained him intensely. He was also depressed by the doctor's statement that he had suffered a compound fracture of the ankle and must not try to use his foot for many days to come. He had but little money in his pocket and had not dared spend any of it for board and lodging. Instead he had slept miserably in a skiff pulled up on shore and had breakfasted off of cheese and crackers. Taking it all in all he did not feel equal to the unpleasant task of breaking bad news. He had been drawn to the fish house, however, knowing that there he would be likely to hear the first news of his absent chums. He was hoping Mr. Daniels would, not spy him in his secluded corner.
But Mr. Daniels was having troubles of his own. A dull season is hard on the fishermen but harder still on the fish boss. On the desk before him was a heap of letters and telegrams from customers demanding fish. If he could not supply them at once, they would of course buy elsewhere. Building up a trade is slow work, and if you cannot supply its wants, it is soon lost. He was worrying through the mass of mail when the telephone bell rang. He lifted the receiver off the hook.
"Hello! who's this?" he demanded, curtly.
"It's Captain Brown, Cap," answered a tired voice. "I'm at the dock. Send down for some fish, will you?"
"How many have you got, twenty pounds?" demanded Mr. Daniels, sarcastically.
"Call it twenty pounds if you like," drawled the tired voice. "I calculate, though, that they will come nearer tipping the scales at ten thousand pounds."
"Good boy," exclaimed the fish boss in delight. "They will help me out a lot. Where did you catch them."
"I didn't catch them," said the weary tones. "Credit them to the account of those new guys, 'West, Hazard and so forth.' Good-by, I've got to go back for another load."
Walter in his secluded corner caught enough of the conversation to tell him that his chums had succeeded. He forgot his pain and discouragement. Things took on a rosy tinge. He suddenly remembered the dime's worth of cheese and crackers, for breakfast, had only put an edge on his appetite. He stole out of the fish house and hobbled down the street to a little restaurant where he was soon seated behind a big, juicy steak and mashed potatoes.
As soon as his hunger was appeased, he hobbled back to the fish house.
There he remained all the balance of the day and far into the night for the fish house was the scene of great excitement. One after the other the launches arrived with their finny cargoes. Whenthe last one was unloaded the first to arrive was back again with another load. The house's regular force was unable to handle the deluge. Men, boys, and even women were hired at fancy prices to assist. Packing in barrels became impossible. As many as could be were packed that way but the most were hustled, unpacked, into a car and heavily iced down.
"For goodness' sake, how many more are coming?" Mr. Daniels demanded of a midnight arrival.
"Not many," answered the launch captain. "They were making their last haul when I left. Some of the fishermen followed the first launch back and are trying to butt into the snap."
"The rascally scoundrels," exclaimed Mr. Daniels, indignantly.
The man grinned wearily. "You needn't worry," he said. "When I left, Bill Roberts was standing off the gang with a rifle, while the other fellows got out the fish."
"They must be about tired out by this time," commented the fish boss.
"Tired!" exclaimed the launch captain. "I am pretty well worn out myself and we launch men have the easiest part of the job. Those fellows who are handling the nets are earning every dollar they will make. Their fingers are worn through both skins handling that fine, wet twine.Their hands are just bleeding raw, and you know how salt water and fish slimes smart the smallest cut. They have bent over the nets so long that they can't straighten up without bringing the tears to their eyes. I'd like to have the money they will make, but hanged if I would work that hard for it."
The launch captain had not overstated the case. The little party on the beach below were very near the limit of human endurance when the last fish was taken out of the nets. The launch captain had to assist them to the skiffs and into the launches. Once aboard the motor boats, they stretched out on the seats and slept the sleep of utter exhaustion.
Another day had dawned when the fish captain awoke them at Clearwater.
Walter, radiant of countenance, was waiting on the dock to welcome them.
It took Charley several minutes to regain his sleep-scattered wits.
"How much did they weigh?" he asked eagerly, as he wrung his chum's hand in congratulation.
"Just an even hundred and fifty thousand pounds," Walter said.
"Good! at two cents a pound, that's three thousand dollars."
"Better than that," beamed his chum. "Owing to the scarcity of fish, the market has gone up a cent a pound."
"Four thousand five hundred dollars," cried Charley, in delight. "Over two thousand dollars to be divided up amongst us four. It's almost too good to be true."
"And that's not all," added Walter, eagerly. "We are not going to lose much on the launch, after all. Mr. Daniels says she was insured for nearly her full value."
"All's well that ends well," Charley commented. "We have not come out of our fishing venture so badly after all."
"I am afraid we haven't reached the end just yet," said Walter, his countenance sobering. "I've got something pretty serious to tell you as soon as we are all alone."
"If it's nothing real pressing, save it a while," said Charley, hastily. "I want to get some money from Mr. Daniels and pay off the launch captains. Then, I want a good long sleep with nothing to worry me. The Roberts have insisted on our staying with them a couple of days until we get straightened out. We will go over to their camp as soon as I get the fishermen paid off."
It took but a short time to get the money and pay off the sleepy launch captains. They were all well-pleased with their share of the venture. Besides the ten dollars a day, they received four hundred and fifty dollars to be divided among them.
This business attended to, our little party joined the Roberts in their launch and the run to camp was quickly made. As soon as it was reached, the workers turned in for a good, long sleep, and Walter was left alone with his secret.