“Nobody told me, but last week Chris Meyer, the surveyor, was here and, as we are old friends, we talked half the night.  He told me of his work for Mr. Barstow, the big lumber man, and said that Ned Barstow, his son, had been out in the swamp with him as surveyor’s assistant for ’most a month, Chris told me that when he left, Ned was arranging to go on a hunting trip with Billy Tommy, a Seminole Indian.  He thought the plan was to hunt slowly through the swamp to Tommy’s canoe, which he had left somewhere between Boat Landing and Charley Tiger’s.  Ned expected then to work down through the Everglades to Cape Sable if possible.”

“Is there any chance of my finding him in that great wilderness, Mr. Streeter?  It looks so much bigger than it did from up north.  How is it possible to keep from getting lost?”

“Don’t have to.  Soon as you begin to worry because you don’t know where you are, trouble begins.  More than one man in this country has gone crazy and killed himself because he thought he was lost.  Why, you can’t be really lost.  If you’re worried just start for the North Star.  You’ll hit somebody before you strike the North Pole.  But it’s a heap easier to keep from worrying if you’ve got company.  Lordy, the picnic you and Johnny are going to have!  I wish I was as young as you and going with you.  Your best way to find Ned will not be to follow his trail, but to head him off somewhere in the Glades.  That’s easier than you think.  I could pretty nearly figure out to a mile where he is this minute.  You see, he’s with Billy Tommy, and I know that Injun.  Couldn’t make him hurry if he tried, and he won’t try.  He’ll be so busy shootin’ things and skinnin’ ’em and fussin’ ’round camp that they’ll get ahead mighty slow.  Shouldn’t wonder if it took ’em a week from the time they started to get to where Tommy left his canoe.  Then they will put out in the Glades and head straight for Charley Tiger’s camp.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know Tommy and because it’s the only Injun camp ’round there where he’d be sure to find whyome—­that’s whisky, or rum, or anything that’ll make drunk come.”

“But suppose Ned wouldn’t go that way?”

“Oh, Tommy’d fix that.  He’d point to the west and say, ’Big Swamp, canoe no can take!’ Then he’d wave his hand to the east, ’No trail, oko suchescha (water all gone), saw-grass ojus (heaps)!’ No, they never got past Tiger’s camp without stopping.  Then Tommy got drunk and Ned couldn’t move him under four days.  It’s an even chance that they are right there now.”

“How far from here is Tiger’s camp?” asked Dick.

“Less than forty miles, but you’d think it was four hundred before you got there, if you tried to cross the swamp to reach it.  Besides, they would certainly be gone before you could possibly get to the camp.  Then you couldn’t take a boat, and you’ve got to have one to follow your friend.”