Sometimes the turn was so sudden that the bow of the boat almost touched the back, while the stern barely swept clear of it at the other end of the curve. In such cases the engine was stopped, and the boat pushed around the curve by the negro hands with long poles, which they thrust against the bank. Often when they had just pushed the boat around one curve, they had to run to the other side of the deck to pole her around another, which bent in an opposite direction. None but a very small vessel would have made the necessary turns, and the boys were not surprised at her size when they saw the peculiar work she had to do. Anything larger than that could not have got along that stream at all. Even after they at last got into the upper waters of the St. John’s, the river was, at some points, very narrow. The country they passed through was almost entirely uninhabited, although they sometimes stopped at a lonely wharf to take on vegetables or fruits, which were brought from the hummock farms, generally lying a little back from the river. Alligators were plentiful along the banks. Water-fowl and other birds were in great numbers everywhere, and the boys had a very good time fishing for black bass from the stern of the little steamer. They caught enough to supply everybody on board with fresh fish during the entire trip, and many of the passengers, including the gentleman in the blue shirt, spent most of their time shooting at the alligators and birds. The captain was a pleasant man, and talked a good deal with the boys. “It seems pretty hard,” he once said to them, “to get a boat along this narrow and crooked stream, but there are times in the year when I have no trouble at all. When the waters are high all this flat country is overflowed, and, as my boat only draws two feet of water, I sail right straight along over all this land that you see here, and pay no attention at all to the bed of the stream, wherever it may happen to be.” After a slow passage of two nights and parts of three days, they entered a broad lake, on one side of which was situated the town of Enterprise, and on the other that of Sanford. Without stopping at the first, they proceeded to the last-named place, and the boys had scarcely scrambled upon the long pier when they were met by a portly gentleman, in a white necktie and broad straw hat, who, after asking their names, handed Phil a telegram. Phil hastily tore open the envelope, and read the following message: “To Philip Berkeley, Sanford, Florida: Telegraph to Inman House, Jacksonville, by what boat you leave Sanford. Call there on arrival. “JOHN ROBINSON.”