The Boy Chums in the Florida Jungle: or, Charlie West and Walter Hazard with the Seminole Indians — John Shaqi
The Boy Chums in the Florida Jungle: or, Charlie West and Walter Hazard with the Seminole IndiansEly, Wilmer M. (Wilmer Mateo)
General
The Boy Chums in the Florida Jungle: or, Charlie West and Walter Hazard with the Seminole Indians
Ely, Wilmer M. (Wilmer Mateo)
Seminole Indians -- Juvenile fiction
Walter did not have long to wait. Soon a few short barks announced that
Bob had triumphed, and a moment later the dog emerged from the bushes,
but not before a villainous odor had reached the boys' nostrils. So
strong and sickening it was, that the lads retreated in haste.
"Get out of here; go home," ordered McCarty angrily. "Go home, you
fool."
Bob stopped and eyed him reproachfully; then, as if in obedience to an
oft-repeated lesson, he turned around and trotted back to camp.
McCarty chuckled as he gazed after him. "That's Bob's one failing," he
said. "He will go out of his way to tackle a pole-cat. As soon as the
scent of one battle wears off he goes out and seeks another. Seems like
a regular mania with him. I sure hope he will not do as he did last
time--when he went back to camp, sneaked into my tent and went to sleep
on my cot. Whew! I had to burn my blankets and fumigate my tent before
I could sleep in it again, but I guess I had better shut up. If we talk
as we go along, we will never get near a deer."
Thus far the boys had been traveling through low, flat woods, scantily
dotted with small pine trees and little thickets of spruces and oaks,
but soon they began to enter an entirely different kind of country.
Before them stretched a vast prairie, covered with grass and broken
here and there by rising hummocks, densely wooded with pines, oaks and
huge tropical trees. Every few hundred yards they saw grass ponds, or
little sandy-bottomed lakes of crystal-clear water. Beside one of these
little lakes the lads stopped to eat their lunch. It was full of fish
of all sizes.
"I wish Chris was here," Walter observed. "He would have the time of
his life yanking out those big fellows."
"Oh, he can get all the fishing he wants right close to camp," McCarty
said. "I never saw such a country for fish in my life. Any hole that is
deep enough to hold water is full of fish. Even the ditches the machine
has left behind are full of little minnows already."
The lunch finished and washed down by draughts of clear, cold water
from the lake, the lads began searching around its sandy shore for deer
signs. They found animal tracks in abundance, and were amazed at the
number of different kinds--coons, wild-cats, foxes, deer, bears--all
seemed to have made the little lake their drinking place, and, in one
place, they came upon the padded footprint of a panther.
"My, I wish we could put in a week hunting around this little lake,"
said McCarty regretfully. "We could make a shelter not far away and
take stands here at night. But, wishing don't accomplish much, so I
guess we might as well be pushing on. Without a dog our only chance is
to work up against the wind and keep our eyes open."
They had traveled about two miles in this manner when Walter suddenly
stopped. "Look ahead, there," he exclaimed. "Can't you see something
rising up a little above the grass?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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