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
"They would not care to make such a trip," declared his chum, "but
we'll ask them, anyway."
"Go 'way, you white chillens," said Chris, when they approached him on
the subject. "How you 'spect dis nigger's going to get away? Dat Sam
can't cook none yet. 'Sides I don't want to go trapsing 'round. I'se
done found a little pond back there a bit, whar de fish is so thick you
have to push 'em away with a stick to keep them from all taking de bait
at once."
They found the Captain, seated in the shade of a pine tree, smoking his
pipe and watching the graders at work.
"No, lads, I don't care to go," he said, with a smile. "I reckon I'm a
heap sight more comfortable here than I would be tramping around in the
sun. I'm getting too old to get much pleasure out of such trips. You
two go and enjoy yourselves. I'll stay and look out for things."
"We'll have to move camp in a few days," Charley remarked, as they
paused on the grade for a few minutes to glance over the work that had
been done since they had bought out Murphy. "The machine is getting too
far from camp. It gives the men too long a walk, and wastes a lot of
time. Well, I can't see but what everything is running smooth now," he
concluded with satisfaction.
And, in truth, the boys had reason to be satisfied with the way things
were going. From ahead of the machine came the sound of axe and the
sharp report of dynamite, as the right-of-way men cleared a path for
the machine. The machine itself was swinging back and forth with the
regularity of clockwork. Back of the machine followed the graders,
leveling off the thrown-up dirt, while behind them came the bridge
builders, constructing bridges over the gaps left by the machine.
Everywhere was bustle.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE MEDICINE MAN.
SUNRISE found the boys well on their way to Indiantown. By nine o'clock
they were entering the jungle where Charley had been fired at on his
previous trip. Before entering it, however, the lads stopped and cut
two long slender poles with which to kill the moccasins basking on the
road.
This time no rifle bullets halted their progress, but the snakes were
there, and, by the time they had passed out of the jungle they had
slaughtered over fifty of the loathsome creatures.
"Whew!" exclaimed Walter, as they broke out of the darkness of the
jungle, "that's the most awful place I was ever in. It fairly reeks
with rottenness and fever."
"Yes," Charley assented. "I dread putting the machine into it, but
it's got to be done. I am going to set fire to it before the machine
gets there; that may help some. Once we get through it, we are over
the worst. There's Indiantown, about two miles from here. Now, I
figure that the motive for the attacks on us lies somewhere between
the machine and Indiantown, for the strange white men never go beyond
the trading-post, but, for the life of me, I can see nothing in this
country that would supply the motive, can you?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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