athan,” asked mrs. middleton, “have you ever heard anything of our old boarder, tom temple?”
“no, my dear, except that he went to california in the steerage, i believe. i suspect he was very destitute.”
“i am glad of it,” said mrs. middleton emphatically. “it does me good to see pride have a fall, and that boy was the proudest upstart i ever met.”
“he certainly had a great appetite, my dear, and was very particular about his accommodations.”
“to think of his insisting on a mattress! really, nathan, we were fools to give up to him.”
“well, my dear, we got very high board for him.”
“very true; i wouldn’t have stood his impudence otherwise. squire davenport’s family got disgusted with him. he put on his airs even with them. so he went in the steerage, did he?”
“so i heard.”
“i warrant he would have been glad to get back to our home, much as he turned up his nose at it.”
here there was a knock at the door, and a minute later the servant entered, ushering in our hero.
“good gracious!” ejaculated mr. middleton. “is it you, thomas?”
“yes, sir,” said tom; “here i am, alive and kicking. i didn’t think you’d remember me. how do you do, mrs. middleton?”
“i am well,” said the lady stiffly.
“i thought you were in california, thomas,” said mr. middleton.
“so i was.”
“we heard that you were reduced to going by steerage,” remarked mrs. middleton with spiteful triumph.
“you were misinformed,” said tom coolly, “i went first-class, and returned in the same way.”
“oh, indeed. i heard that you had a few hundred dollars left. you must have spent it all by this time.”
“you will doubtless be glad to learn that i have got my fortune all back,” said tom, glancing mischievously at the faces of his friends, in which surprise contended with mortification.
“is that so?” ejaculated mr. middleton.
“quite so. the ship supposed to be lost has returned; mr. armstrong has recovered sufficiently to pay me back my ten thousand dollars, and the mining stock turns out to be good. besides that i have been adopted by a rich man, who has made me his heir.”
“my dear tom,” exclaimed mr. middleton, whose opinion of our hero had risen about a hundred degrees, “permit me to congratulate you. i always felt a deep, a paternal interest in the welfare of my dear friend’s son. i am truly glad to hear that your fortune is recovered. if you would be content again to share our humble home, we would gladly receive you back on the same terms as before.” and he pressed tom’s hand very cordially.
“mr. temple,” said mrs. middleton, her face wreathed in smiles, “won’t you stay to dinner at least? i shall be truly glad to have you.”
“thank you,” said tom. “since you are so pressing i will; but i am afraid i can’t come back to board, as my uncle wishes me to reside with him.”
before mr. middleton could express his disappointment, squire davenport was ushered into the room. he stopped short at the sight of tom, and frowned slightly, looking to mr. middleton for an explanation.
“squire davenport,” said nathan, “you will be glad to hear that our young friend has recovered his fortune. indeed he tells me that he is richer than ever. isn’t it so, thomas?”
“yes, sir, i believe so.”
“ahem!” said the squire, pausing long enough to change his voice and expression. “i am very glad to hear it. master temple, you were once intimate at my house. won’t you come to tea this evening?”
“thank you,” said tom demurely, “if you think it will be agreeable to your family.”
“they will all be delighted to see you,” said the squire hastily.
“thank you, i’ll come,” said tom.
to judge by tom’s reception, all the davenports were very fond of him. and yet the day before they would have vied with one another in speaking contemptuously of him. but then he was supposed to be poor. now he was master of one fortune, and heir to another. it is only the way of the world.
there was one of the family whom tom was really glad to meet, and that was mary somers, to whom he paid much more attention than to imogene, greatly to the latter’s disgust. poor mary had to submit to more than one covert sneer, but tom paid his chief attention to her for all that.
ten years have passed by. tom is a young merchant, bold, enterprising and successful. mary somers is his wife, and mr. stoddard, happy in their love and respect, lives with them. the davenports are proud of their connection with their once despised poor relation, and thankfully accept her invitations. imogene is unmarried and is likely to become a sour old maid. james davenport is a clerk in the employ of tom, through poverty being forced to work, very much to his disgust. mr. and mrs. middleton still live. they have become more penurious than ever, but their opinion of tom has changed. “my dear young friend, tom temple, once an inmate of my family,” says nathan, and his wife echoes it. how gold reveals the virtues of those about us! as for tom, he has greatly improved. the bold, aggressive qualities which once made him a bully have been diverted to business, and have made him energetic and enterprising. so we leave him better than we found him, and with every prospect of a happy and prosperous career.
over and under.
by captain r. m. hawthorne.
ud jarvis attained the eighteenth anniversary of his birth last november, and found it the most memorable day of his life.
he had been hunting in the woods along the upper kanama river, had eaten his lunch, and now, finding himself a good six miles from home, began working his way back, hoping to gain a second shot at the stag that had dashed off at such speed that the youthful hunter was quickly left behind. although deer were once plentiful in that section, they were now so scarce that it was quite an exploit for the best marksman to bring one down. jud took his dog along, but just before starting the game, he scurried off on a false scent, and had not been heard or seen since.
the weather was unusually mild for the season, and jud stood on the margin of the swift kanama that was free from ice, debating whether he should cross in the dugout at his feet, in the hope of finding the game on the other shore, or whether he should turn about and search for the animal on the same side of the stream.
“he ran straight for the water, and most likely swam across; i think he was hit hard and will not go far, but it is so late that i may not come up with him before dark—helloa!”
a crashing of the undergrowth on his left was followed by a bound that carried the stag a dozen feet into the water. like a diver, he sank out of sight, even his spreading antlers disappearing from view, but almost instantly the noble head came up over a rod away, the wealth of prongs spreading above the wet snout like the disjointed rigging of a ship. he swam with such powerful strokes that a deep wave opened out behind him. he was fully fifty feet from shore, before jud rallied from his amazement.
“i’ve got you this time, my fine fellow,” he muttered, bringing his gun to his shoulder.
in the flurry of the moment, he did not recognize the meaning of a humming shriek which accompanied the report of his weapon. but the cartridge driven from his breech-loader was a defective one. there was a depression in one side of the lead which caused it to give out a quick, intense noise like that of a common nail when thrown in the peculiar manner known to all boys. not only that, but the defect in the missile caused it to deflect just enough to make a clean miss.
quite sure, though, that he had inflicted a mortal hurt, jud was afraid the stag would reach land and get too far away to be overtaken before night. he shoved the dugout into the water, threw his gun in, followed it himself, caught up the paddle and worked with might and main to overtake the game.
swiftly as a stag can swim, he is no match for a man in a dugout. jud gained fast, and, before the middle of the stream was reached, he was abreast of the deer, but a dozen yards or so above. he curved down toward him, and had passed half the intervening distance, when the fugitive wheeled about, or headed toward the shore he had left a few minutes before.
his protruding eyes, and the whiffing snort which sent a fine spray from his nostrils, proved that he saw his peril and was desperately swimming away from it.
now was the time for another shot. jud hastily pulled the lever to throw out the old shell and push a new cartridge into place; but every one knows the “obduracy of inanimate things” at such times. something got out of order, and, with an impatient exclamation, he lowered his piece to adjust it.
before he could do so, the angry snort that he had heard before sounded so close at his elbow that he looked around. that which he saw was startling indeed. the stag was plowing like a steam-tug through the water and coming straight for the boat. his fierce front left no doubt of his earnestness, and jud jarvis awoke to the fact that while he was hunting the stag, the stag had turned about to hunt him.
the movement was so unexpected that the usually clear-headed youth was thrown into a panic. his gun could not be fired until the hitch was removed, and believing he had no time to do that, he plunged overboard.
in that trying moment, jud could not forget the valuable rifle in his hand. he meant to hold fast to that, come what might. he was a strong swimmer, and he went down until one foot touched the pebbly bottom. immediately he gave a light spring, which sent him upward like a cork. flirting the water from his eyes he looked about him.
the dugout almost touched his nose, so that for the moment he saw nothing of the stag. if the latter had struck the craft with his antlers he had failed to overturn it.
“i may as well make some use of you,” reflected jud, catching hold of the gunwale with one hand, and placing his rifle within; “i think the gun will be as safe there as anywhere.”
he swam to the stern with the intention of climbing into the rude craft, when the stag came into view. he was moving around the boat, intently looking for the youth that had dared to shoot at him. with a sagacity hardly to be expected, he discerned the guilty from the innocent, and, instead of making a blind assault upon the dugout, he waited for the hunter to reappear. when he did so, he gave him his undivided attention.
jud’s panic was gone. his hands were free and he was afraid of no animal in the water. the current was cold, for the autumn was well along, but he cared nothing for that. he “trod water” until the bouquet of prongs was almost upon him. he did not fear them, for, as is well known, the most effectual weapons of the deer species at certain times are his fore feet. rearing on his hind legs, he brings his forward hoofs close together, the fronts turned down so that they become a couple of joined knives, capable of inflicting a frightful gash. the stag of course appeals to his antlers, and they are formidable in the way of defense, but when his sharp hoofs will serve him better, he is quick to use them.
it was these hoofs that jarvis feared. he was in front of them, and their movement while swimming was such as to gouge his chest if he should be struck. therefore, at the right moment, he dived under the stag.
touching bottom as before, jud opened his eyes and looked toward the sky. the water was of such crystalline clearness that, when paddling along, he could see the pebbly bed, except in the very deepest portion. he had subjected his eyes, however, to a most trying ordeal. the contact of the water with the sensitive organs caused a smarting sensation, and the former assumed a yellow tinge which interfered with his vision.
but he was blessed with unusually strong eyes, and when he looked up he saw the stag over his head. he seemed to be a huge, grotesque creature walking through the translucent atmosphere on his hind legs. his body was almost erect, and the swiftly moving legs churned the water, as if they were beating the air.
the fact that he hardly shifted his position showed that he was holding himself almost stationary until his foe should reappear. he had turned upon his persecutor, and was waiting to destroy him.
the latter now did a clever thing. he came up so noiselessly that the brute did not hear him. he had to blink pretty hard to clear the moisture from his smarting eyes, but when he did so, it was as he expected; he was within six feet of the game, but directly behind him. the dugout was fifty feet down stream.
one long stroke carried jud across the space. the stag heard the soft swash, and possibly caught sight of the figure stealing upon him, but, before he could turn his head, each hand grasped an antler with iron grip.
“now, swim, old fellow, but you’ve got to take me along.”
it was the turn of the stag to fall into a panic. he flirted his head and whirled round and round in his effort to dislodge the incubus, but he could not do so. jud laughed at the discomfiture of the animal.
“you’re doing quite well, but not so well as you think you can do.”
jud’s expectation was that the stag would tire himself out, and then, finding he could not free himself of his load, would make for shore again. the youth meant to let go as soon as land was reached. no doubt by that time the animal would be glad enough to make off. he would be likely to escape altogether, for he certainly showed no signs of being badly wounded, if indeed he had been hit at all. if he should turn to assail jud, after the latter let go his horns, he could easily avoid him in the water.
it looked as if jud’s theory was to be verified, for, after a few blind circlings, the stag, with a disgusted sniff, made for the bank toward which he had headed on entering the river.
peering through the little forest of antlers in front, the lad noticed that the trees along the shore were sweeping backward with amazing velocity; then he caught a roar, rapidly swelling into a deep boom, and gazing to the left, he saw the dugout bowing, dancing and turning on its own center in a cloud of rising mist. it was on the very point of plunging over the falls.
jud thought no more of the stag. unless he could reach shore within a few seconds, he must follow the dugout or be drowned. releasing the antlers, he dropped to the bottom of the river, impelled to do so by a curious hope that he would thus gain a chance to help himself along.
the depth was nearly as great as in the middle of the stream. he tried to catch hold of the stony bottom, but it glided so swiftly from his grasp that he felt the pain of the friction. the slight reaction sent him upward again, and he struggled fiercely to reach shore. he had about the same distance to travel as the stag, but the latter was a rod further down stream.
the youth strove as only one can who is striving for his life, but he was closer to the falls than he was to land, and he quickly saw that nothing could save him from going over. to struggle longer could only exhaust his strength without giving him any advantage. with great coolness, he turned to the left, so as to face the falls, and braced himself for the ordeal.
“i have never heard whether any one can go over them and live to tell of it, but the question will be settled in the next two minutes.”
the river where it poured over the rocks was compressed into a volume less than a hundred feet in width. the mass of water was ten feet in depth, and the descent was three times as great. the narrowing of the stream gave it great velocity, and the churning of the enormous mass at the base sent up continual clouds of mist, which, when penetrated by the sun’s rays, showed a beautiful rainbow.
at the point where jud put out in a boat, it was safe to paddle across, but he had been so absorbed in his hunt for the stag, that he forgot all about the falls until it was too late to extricate himself.
curious thoughts often come to a person when in such extremity. jud saw the dugout bobbing up and down like the cork of a fishing line, until it vanished from sight. he wondered how many times it would turn over, and whether it was possible for it to keep upright, and in case it was not capsized what would become of his fine rifle? if that were saved, into whose hands would it fall? what did the stag think of the situation, and did he appreciate what zanies he and jud had made of themselves in their eagerness to destroy each other? how delicately beautiful was the faint rainbow spanning the mist! would his father and mother understand the means by which he had lost his life? he was their only child, and the pang of sorrow which pierced his heart was because he knew they would never recover from their grief over his loss.
other singular fancies were crowding upon him, but he was now so close to the falls that they occupied all his thoughts. he saw that the stag was struggling with that blind instinct which all animals show in the extremity of peril. his savage efforts had carried him a little closer to shore, but it availed nothing, and he swept toward the falls broadside on. by some mischance that can hardly be understood, the animal, on the very rim of the overflow, turned on his back, after the manner of a horse when he lies down to roll. the legs were seen for an instant sawing the air, and then hoofs, body, and antlers, were mixed in one general swirl and over they went.
jud jarvis was thrilled, as he shot with arrowy swiftness toward the battle of the waters. he uttered the same prayer that he had uttered night and morning since his infancy, and compressing his lips, and drawing a deep inspiration, bravely awaited the issue.
just then it seemed to him that the vast bulk of water, in which he hung suspended, had become motionless, and the rocky wall below was fighting its way up current with a vicious fury that caused all the turmoil; then the rushing kanama, accepting the challenge, leaped at the rocks to beat them back. but the lad was borne forward with a dizzying sweep, as if hauled through mid-air, and then he shot downward, into the smothering foam and shivering water, amid a war like that of thousands of cannon.
through it all jud never lost consciousness, nor his presence of mind. he held his breath until it seemed his lungs must burst. he knew that the continual hammering of the waters at the base of the falls had worn a cavity of great depth, to the bottom of which he had been carried by the mountainous mass above. but this had to hurry out to make room for that which was forever rushing after it, and he went with it.
he felt faint and strange, and there was one moment when a singular ringing in his ears and a strangling sensation warned him that he was “on the line,” and that one step more meant unconsciousness, to be quickly followed by death. by a mighty effort, however, he rallied, and retained command of himself.
“a man can go over these falls and live to tell of it,” he thought; “and that’s what i am going to do.”
the gasp which he gave brought the cool, life-giving air to his lungs, and the staring eyes saw that though the water was still agitated, the yeasty foam was so small a portion that he could support himself. it was becoming clearer every minute, and the falls were rapidly receding behind him.
after drifting several rods, jud caught sight of the dugout, almost within reach.
“and it is right side up!” he exclaimed, with delight; “can it be—i shall soon know.”
a few strokes carried him to the hollowed out log, which was not riding so high as when he saw it above the falls. peeping over the gunwales he observed that it was so nearly full of water that it was floating because of the buoyancy of the log itself. a shout of delight escaped him when he saw his rifle lying in the water at the bottom. by a run of good fortune that could hardly happen again, it was saved to him.
holding the stern with one hand, jud began working the boat toward shore. the water rapidly became calmer, and the task was not difficult.
“i wonder how the stag made out,” he said, as the nose of the dugout struck land; “he went over in a style of his own, and i am afraid—well, if that doesn’t beat everything!”
at that very moment the body of the stag heaved up from the water, and he walked out not more than twenty feet away. as soon as he was clear of the river he stopped, lowered his head, and a sort of earthquake shook his whole system, the drops of water flying in a shower from every part of his body. having flirted off most of the moisture, he slowly turned halfway round, and surveyed the dripping biped, as if seeking to find out whether he was the young man who was responsible for this wholesale overturning of things.
meanwhile, jud was doing his utmost to get his rifle in shape for service. he gave as much attention to the stag as to his weapon, in case the brute charged before the youth was ready, he meant to take to the stream again, for he had already proven that he was safe there.
the cartridges had kept dry in their waterproof chamber, and the slight disarrangement was quickly made right. the barrel was freed from most of the moisture, and the weapon was again ready for service. jud had missed his two previous shots, but he was confident it could not happen again. the game was now his own.
possibly the stag could not satisfy himself as to the identity of the youth, for after a prolonged stare he swung back his head and slouched off toward the woods. jud raised his breech-loader and took careful aim at the head held so proudly aloft. the finger was pressing the trigger, when the rifle was lowered again.
“we’ll call it square; you’ve saved your life; you may go; good-by!”
a strange craft.
by geoffrey randolph.
y young friends jim and joe allison are emphatic in declaring that they will never, never forget their adventure in florida last summer. when you come to learn the particulars, i am sure you will take the same view of it that they do.
jim and joe are brothers, the first sixteen and the second fourteen years old. last autumn they came to the north to attend school, and perhaps some of the readers of boys’ papers have made their acquaintance. if so, you will agree with me that they are bright, manly fellows, who, if their lives are spared, will become useful and popular citizens.
the father of the allison boys was an officer of the confederacy. with the wreck of a once handsome fortune, he went back to his old home in florida, after the close of the war. he was still a young man, and had been fortunate enough to go through the whole “unpleasantness” without a scratch. he married an estimable lady from the north, who, in addition to her many fine qualities, had the not objectionable one of considerable wealth. so it came about that colonel allison bought a fine orange plantation in the land of flowers, and it was there that his daughter and two sons were born.
like the boys of the south and west, jim and joe were accustomed to horses, guns and roughing it from earliest boyhood, though rather curiously neither of them could swim a stroke. they spent many an hour in the pulseless pine forests, in the oozy swamps and the dry barrens, finding enjoyment and sport where you and i would see nothing but wretchedness.
only a few weeks before they went to the north they engaged in the memorable hunt of which i am going to tell you. suspecting that it would be the last one they would be able to have together for a long time (for they were busy with their preparations for leaving home), they agreed to make it a thorough one so far as it was in their power to do so.
they told their parents not to be anxious if they saw nothing of them for two or three days, for they meant to go a long distance up the st. john’s and had resolved not to come back until they had obtained some experience worth the telling.
an hour later the boys had entered their dugout, in which they put up a sail, and with a mild but favoring breeze they moved at a fair rate up the river, which is probably the most widely known of any in florida. they were provided with a substantial lunch, for though professional sportsmen might have scorned to make a provision that implied their own lack of skill, the brothers had no compunctions in the matter.
there was nothing in the woods that could take the place of dinah’s corn cake, nor was there any game which the boys could prepare by the camp fire to be compared to the cold roast chicken which the same skillful cook took such pains to make ready for them. so, in going this long hunt, the boys did not mean to place any dependence on their guns for food.
it was quite early in the morning when they started. the st. john’s, with its shores sometimes wooded, and often low and marshy, wound in and out through the forest, but the current was sluggish, and it was not a difficult task to paddle the light dugout.
now and than the youths took a shot at some of the game of which they caught a glimpse along the shore. it was not yet noon when they met a steamer, whose sputtering wheel at the stern churned the water into muddy foam, and whose deck was filled with excursionists. many of these waved their handkerchiefs at the boys, who returned the salute.
by and by jim remarked that if they meant to have a genuine old-fashioned hunt, they would have to leave the main river, where they met too many people. so they turned up the next tributary they saw.
jim used the paddle until tired, and then joe did the same. by this time it was high noon, and observing a small island ahead they agreed to make a landing there and take lunch. they could have done this just as well in the boat, but they had been in their cramped posture so long that they wanted to “stretch their legs.”
the island on which they landed was a small one, being no more than a hundred feet in length, and its widest portion was less than half of that. the middle was perhaps three or four feet above the level of the water, so that the patch of land resembled one of those patent door mats, which, being raised in the center, shed all the water that falls upon them.
there was not a particle of vegetation on the island—not so much even as a spear of grass. there were a few twigs and bits of limbs that had floated down and lodged against the upper point, but altogether there was not an armful.
it was of no concern to the boys that they found this strip of sand so uninviting, for they did not mean to stay there more than an hour or two at the most. the sun was hot, and they would have enjoyed the luxury of stretching beneath some shady tree; but since that was out of the question they did not bemoan it. the umbrella which they had brought answered very well as a substitute. its long handle was jammed into the sand near the middle of the island, and its shade almost sheltered their bodies.
protected in this fashion, they brought forth their big lunch basket, and fell to with an appetite such as i trust all of you possess.
in making their way to the camping site, as it may be called, jim allison carried the umbrella and lunch basket. more from habit than anything else joe brought the rifles with him. he did not dream that any necessity would arise for their use, but had some idea that he might lie under the shade of his umbrella, and pick off something in the river or along shore.
the division of the stream, produced originally by the sandy bar or island, caused the curving water to wear away the main shores on either side, until the river at that portion took upon itself the character of a lake or lagoon. from the island to either bank was a distance of fully two hundred yards, so that it would have taken good marksmanship on the part of the boys to bring down anything on the main land.
one peculiarity had been noted by both. the region seemed to be a favorite one with alligators. they could be seen basking in the sun along the banks, with here and there a snout moving lazily over the water in quest of prey. they were not liable to disturb the boys so long as they remained in the dugout, but if by some chance they should be capsized among a school of them, it might have gone ill with our young friends.
“i think,” remarked jim, speaking as well as he could with his mouth full of corn cake, “that after ascending a few miles further we’ll land and take to the woods.”
“not a bad idea,” spluttered joe, from behind the cold chicken that threatened to suffocate him; “we can build a fire and sleep in the woods to-night; then we’ll have all day to-morrow for the hunt, and can go home the next day.”
“yes; there isn’t much in this sort of business; we must have a time that we can tell the boys about when we go up north.”
just then the speaker happened to look down stream, and noticed a boat that appeared to be approaching.
“who can that be?” he asked in astonishment.
“my gracious!” gasped joe, leaping to his feet, “it is our dugout!”
such was the fact. they had left it drawn up so slightly on the shingle, that it had swung loose, and was already a hundred feet below the island.
the astounded lads looked in each other’s face, speechless for a full minute. well might they ask themselves what should be done, for you will bear in mind that neither of them knew how to swim, that they were in a lonely region where they could not be certain of any person passing for days or weeks, and that there was nothing on the island from which anything in the nature of a raft or float could be constructed.
the boys were plucky, and had either one of them known how to swim, he could have helped the other to the main land, and they would have considered the adventure of a nature that need cause little misgiving. they concluded that the only thing to be done was to fire their guns and shout, in the faint hope of attracting the attention of some one within call.
accordingly, they discharged their rifles, and yelled and whistled until the sun sank in the west, but without the slightest evidence of success.
as the day advanced, the alligators showed more signs of life. they swam back and forth in the river, and at one or two points a number engaged in a fierce fight, causing no little splashing and turmoil in the water. occasionally one of them would run his hideous snout against the island, but they did nothing more than stare at the youngsters, when they whirled about and swam into deep water again.
while the brothers had no special fear of these huge reptiles, they were not without misgiving, for they well knew that they occasionally attacked persons. they kept close watch, therefore, and it was well that they did.
just as the sun was sinking, and while the river glowed with the yellow, horizontal rays, they were startled by the approach of the largest alligator on which they had ever looked. they did not see him until he was close to the island, and indeed in the act of leaving the water and coming toward them. he was fully eighteen feet long, and there could be no doubt that he meant to attack the boys. his size, age, and appetite, would not permit him to stop at trifles.
“i’ll take the right eye,” said jim.
“and i the left,” said joe in an undertone.
the boys had cast aside their umbrella, and kneeling on one knee they took careful aim at the monster. like the patriots at bunker hill, they waited until they saw the whites of the enemy’s eyes, and then they fired together.
the distance was short, and the aim so true, that either bullet would have proved fatal. as it was, the alligator, with a horrible whiffing snort, swung spasmodically about, clawed the sand into showers, and then died, as any creature must whose brain has been bored through by two leaden pellets.
that was a dismal night to jim and joe. they feared that the other reptiles would come upon the island to attack the slain monarch, in which case they were likely to give some unpleasant attention to the boys. but fortunately the saurians did not do so, and when the sun rose in the morning, matters may be said to have been in statu quo.
the main suffering of the boys was for water. they had brought a bottle with them, but that was exhausted on the first day, and they waited until they were extremely thirsty before drinking from the muddy current that swept sluggishly by.
by noon, they began to feel serious alarm. they had used up nearly all their ammunition, and had shouted and yelled till their heads ached and their voices were husky. there were no more signs of any one else being in the solitude than there would have been in the middle of sahara.
disconsolate joe was leaning on his elbow under the shade of the umbrella, wondering how many days it would be before their parents would miss them, how many weeks before the party of search would set out, and how many months before their remains would be found bleaching upon the sandy island—that is, provided the alligators did not make a feast upon them.
he happened to be looking at the huge carcass of the reptile, when he noticed that beneath the flaming heat it was distended to double its natural size. it was a frightful looking sight indeed.
“jim,” said he, turning to his brother, “that carcass is swollen enough to float like a cork.”
“let’s try it then,” said he, brightening up; “the other alligators are asleep, and it’s the best hour out of the twenty-four.”
inspired by the new thought, they ran to the bloated mass and made the attempt to get it into the water. it was an exhausting task, and they could not have moved it far, but by great labor they succeeded in swinging it into the current. it proved to be wonderfully buoyant, and when the boys perched themselves upon the back their combined weight did not sink it more than half under water.
their hearts throbbed fast when they found themselves at last floating with the current. they were not without dread that the scent of the carcass would bring others to the spot, but the voyage of the singular boat was so quiet that the siesta of the other alligators was not disturbed. they floated down stream until, at a bend in the river, they swung so close to land that they saw the water was shallow; and springing off they waded ashore.
jim and joe discovered nothing of their dugout, and were obliged to make their way down to the st. john’s, where they were fortunate enough to hail a passing steamer, which landed them near their home.
