“We ought to have a yellow flag to fly over this hospital.  I wish we had a medical book to tell us what we’ve probably got.  The only things I’m sure of are blood poisoning and hydrophobia.  Then there’s enlargement of the spleen.  I’ve got all the symptoms of that.”

“Your only danger is from melancholia, Dick.  But what are we to do with the otter?  That box is too small for his comfort.”

“I’m not losing any sleep over his comfort.  I thought I’d take him out of his cage every morning and lead him around the camp for exercise until you were ready to begin his education.”

“It does not seem quite as easy to tame him as it looked before we caught him.”

“Guess you mean before he caught us.”

“Shouldn’t wonder if I did.  Couldn’t we build a cage of poles, with some of these big vines woven in basket fashion?”

“That would be all right.  We could watch him day times and you could put him back in the box every night for safe keeping.  I don’t think he’s an otter at all.  He just fits the definition of a white elephant.”

On the day after his little difference of opinion with the otter, Ned’s left hand and wrist were so sore and stiff that he could neither hold his paddle nor his gun.  Dick, too, was partially disabled by the soreness of his arms, but he managed to get about in the canoe and shoot ducks enough for their meals.  They could not induce the otter to eat anything, although it seemed much less fearful of them.  The leg which had been in the trap was broken and appeared to trouble the animal, but they could do nothing to help it.  Dick did propose to take the otter out of the cage and offered to set its leg if Ned would hold the creature.  On the second day their wounds continued to be so troublesome that the boys stayed in their hospital camp.  As they sat that afternoon in the shade of a lime tree, drinking limeade, Dick, the philosopher, began to question Ned.

“Don’t you pity all these folks about here, Ned?  Crackers, alligators, Indians, the whole ignorant lot of ’em.  If they had got hurt as we did, they would have gone right on about their business.  They’d never have found out that they were probably suffering from appendicitis and microbes and ought to go to a hospital and be carved up.”

At this moment the bow of an Indian canoe glided silently into the tiny cove in front of the camp.  The boys recognized one of the two bronzed, bare-legged Seminoles that stood so erect in the canoe, as from Osceola’s camp.  His response to Ned’s greeting was a question.

“Whyome (whiskey), got him?  Want him, ojus (very much).”

Ned told them he had no whyome, but brought out coffee and sugar and invited them to make a brew for themselves.  He also produced grits and venison.  The Indians sat down to a feast which lasted as long as any food remained in sight.  One of the Indians looked curiously at Ned’s bandages and smiled a little as he pointed to the box that held the pet otter.  Ned nodded and asked the Indian, by signs, if he had ever been bitten by one of the creatures.  The Indian held out his hand and showed the scar of a bite that must have nearly taken off his thumb.  After the Indians had gone Dick looked ruefully over the diminished stores and exclaimed: