The morning passed, and all of them noticed that it seemed to warm up greatly as the day advanced, until they had stripped their coats off, and with sleeves rolled up to their elbows as in the good old summer-time up North, paddled along under the arches of the closely growing trees. These were cypress for the most part, since these seem to do better in the midst of water than any other species; and their expanded butts always several times as large in girth as the trunks were five feet from the roots, gave the boys no end of argument as to the cause of such a strange growth.
“There!” suddenly exclaimed Bumpus, “that was an alligator bellering, Thad, wasn’t it? You said they generally talked just before dawn, but still one lonely fellow might happen to break the rule.”
“Wrong again, Bumpus, because that wasn’t any sort of animal or reptile,” the scout-master went on to say, with a smile.
“But you don’t mean to tell me a bird could grumble like that, Thad?” continued the amazed Bumpus.
The rest set up a laugh.
“You sure have got snakes and ’gators on the brain, Bumpus!” declared Giraffe, scornfully. “Why, if you was up home right now, you’d aguessed like the rest of us did, that what you heard was the grumble of thunder, that’s all!”
CHAPTER IX.
“COMBING” THE SWAMP LABYRINTH.
“Oh! you can’t fool me that way, Giraffe!” chuckled Bumpus. “I may look green, but things ain’t always what they seem. Thunder, eh? And this is mighty near the end of December, too. Try again, Giraffe.”
“Yes, but don’t forget, Bumpus, where you are,” cautioned Thad. “This country in winter time can have anything we expect only in summer up North, and that stands for thunderstorms any month in the year. There, that was a louder peal; and now you’ll understand we’re not trying to make you swallow a tough yarn.”
“It sure did sound like it,” admitted the fat scout, “but I never thought we’d run up against a thunderstorm, or I’d have fetched my new raincoat along.”