"Mebbe so, but you can't allers tell. We might get to follerin' sumthin and be gone two or three days. I don't reckon we're goin' to get lost, though we may be bothered some."
"If there's a chance of that we haven't got enough to eat."
"Got plenty. All we really want is a rifle, matches and salt. They'd be good for a month."
"What do you do for bread?"
"Cut the bud out of a cabbage tree."
The boys tramped across the prairie to a belt of cypress, where Johnny stopped for some minutes, looking back to study the landscape and take note of every clump of trees and bit of water in sight.
"I thought you were not afraid of getting lost," said Dick.
"I ain't afraid. I could alters git home all right, but I'd hate to lose the canoe."
The cypress strand was swampy, and they crossed it by stepping from root to root, excepting that once, when Dick was looking at a moccasin, he made a misstep and landed in the mud, where he sank to his waist. The woods were narrow, and beyond them was a broad prairie with clumps of trees and pools of water scattered through it. As they walked and waded they crossed the tracks of many animals and birds, to most of which Johnny could give names. There were plenty of 'coons, a few wildcats, some deer, and one bear, while between the little ponds alligators had worn regular paths.