"There isn't much to tell," said Mabel. "We started off after wild orchids. Well, we became lost, and in trying to find our way back we wandered farther and farther into the swamp. We had our motor boat, as you see, and quite a quantity of provisions, which was lucky for us. We tried our best to get out, but could not. "Finally we found this spot--the hut was already here, built by alligator hunters, very likely. We appropriated it, and the small quantity of food it contained. Since then we have lived on that and what we could shoot. Fortunately game was plentiful, but we have so longed for some bread and coffee. I am dying for a cup." "Dinner will soon be served," laughed Russ, who, with Paul, was preparing a rude meal, broiling the birds over a camp fire. "And now tell us about yourselves," suggested Mabel to Alice. "Oh! to think of meeting you again this way," and she recalled the first meeting in the train going to the New England backwoods. By degrees, and with each one telling a part, the story of the moving picture players was related. They told how they had looked in vain for their steamer. Mabel and Helen Madison also went more into details, giving some of their trying experiences in the swamps and bayous. "But for days we have not tried to find our way from here," said Mabel. "Our motor boat broke down, and we can't get it to go." "I fancy I can fix it," said Russ, "but the question is: Which way to go? We may only get to a worse place." "Let us eat, anyhow," suggested Paul. It was not a very elaborate meal, but it put new heart and courage into the lost ones. "We'll get back somehow--some time," declared Alice, who was now almost her old self. "And then won't everybody be glad!" Night was coming on, but before the advent of darkness Russ had remedied the defect in the motor boat. There was trouble with the ignition system, and also with the carbureter. "Now we could go, if we knew which way to go," he said, as he tested the craft. "Hark!" exclaimed Alice, suddenly. The sound of a cheerful whistle came through the screen of trees. "Oh!" gasped Ruth. "Who can it be?" She had her answer a moment later. Around a bend in the stream, rowing a battered boat, came an old colored man. It was he who was making the melody. Cheerfully he whistled, and more happily was he listened to. "Ahoy there, Uncle!" called Russ. "Can you tell us where we are, and where the _Magnolia_ is tied up?" The old colored man was so startled by the sudden hail, breaking in on his whistling, that he nearly went overboard. He recovered himself, however, and called out: "Whut--whut yo' all doin' at mah cabin?" "Is this your place, Uncle?" asked Russ. "It shore am. An'--an'--I bids yo' all welcome--I shore does, honey!" he added quickly, remembering his hospitality. "We've made ourselves at home," said Mabel. "Oh, whoever you are, can you show us the way out of this wilderness?"