“They are worse than the Seminole Indians,” declared Mr. Seabury. “I would sooner trust one of the latter than a negro of the everglades.”
“I hope the professor doesn’t go,” remarked Rose. “I like him so much. He’s just like a very old friend of mine who was a teacher in the college I attended.”
“Mr. Snodgrass is his own master,” said Mr. Seabury. “We can only advise him.”
At that moment the scientist came back on the upper deck.
“I’m on the right track,” he declared, his eyes shining with excitement. “Those colored men know just where the butterfly has its haunts. I’m going with them. It is only a day’s journey.”
“We’ll go along in the motor boat as far as possible,” said Jerry.
“No, no!” objected Mr. Snodgrass. “We have to go into the swamp where only a canoe can be used. Besides, the puffing of the boat’s engine might frighten the butterfly. I must go alone with these men. They are honest I’m sure. They will make a camp for the night and they say they have food enough for me also.”
“Of course you know your own business,” said Mr. Seabury, “but I wouldn’t trust them, professor.”
“Oh, I’m sure they will not harm me,” the scientist replied. “Besides, I have nothing they could steal. I have promised to pay them well if they bring me to the place where I can get my prize butterfly.”