“There’s going to be a famine in this camp if those Injuns hit us again.”

The next day the boys were very much better and ready for work.  Ned could not hold a paddle with his left hand, so they took a trip into the Everglades, where the water was so shoal that they used their paddles as poles and he could push with one hand.  They left their stores in camp, for which afterwards they were glad, and pushed out several miles among the keys of the Glades, where Dick got a shot at a deer which was running from one key to another, but made a clean miss.  They saw several alligators and in the afternoon chased one with the canoe.  The boys could go faster than the ’gator, but the reptile could turn more quickly.  At last the canoe was right behind the quarry and within a few feet of it.

“Give it to her!” yelled Ned, as he seized his paddle in both hands and threw his weight upon it.

“Here goes!” shouted Dick, as he threw his weight on his paddle, which, unfortunately, slipped from the point of coral rock on which it first struck.  Dick landed on his back in the water, capsizing the canoe as he fell.  When the young canoemen had picked themselves up, righted the canoe, and found the rifle, it was too late to look for the missing alligator, and they plodded slowly home to camp.  They found their captive much tamer.  He drank a little water, although he refused to eat.  His leg was badly swollen and they were anxious about him, and with good reason, for when they awoke in the morning he was dead.

Ned’s last, reckless thrust with his paddle had broken open his wounds and they became very painful.  Dick dressed them again and warned him that he wasn’t to use his hand until he had Dr. Dick’s permission.  They explored the creeks around their camp in the canoe, Dick doing most of the paddling, while Ned helped as well as he could, with his unhurt arm.  The clear water of these little streams abounded with baby tarpon and other small fish, while often, in the deeper pools, turtles could be seen scurrying along the bottom.  Dick had never told Ned of the turtle-catching that Johnny had taught him, so when he said, very casually, “Ned, I think I’ll go overboard and pick up that turtle for supper,” Ned replied: 

“Don’t be an idiot.  You couldn’t catch that thing in the water in a thousand years.”

“Just hold the canoe steady and watch me.”  And Dick, resting his hands on the gunwales, threw himself overboard.

The splash frightened the turtle, which made off up the creek, but the boy was on his trail and, after a few futile grabs, had the reptile in his hand.

“Think that will do for supper, Ned, or shall I pick up a few more?” said Dick, as he put the turtle in the canoe.

“I’d like to know who taught you that, you rascal, playing roots on your poor old chum, who never had your chance to see the world.”