“Is it as bad as that?” asked Ned.
“I don’t want to take too gloomy a view of it,” went on Jerry, “but you must admit it looks serious.”
“Still, the professor is a smart man. He’s used to going in dense woods after insects and finding his way out,” said Bob. “Look at the different places he has been with us—even in the buried city in Mexico—and he got out all right.”
“This is different,” Jerry stated. “The everglades are worse than any forest. If he gets off the firm ground he’ll sink down in the swamp and never be able to get out. Boys, I wish the professor was safely back with us. But there’s no help for it now, and all we can do is to wait. Perhaps I’m too nervous and he may turn up all right, but the attack on the camp looks bad.”
“Poor old professor!” murmured Ned. “I’d hate to have anything happen to him.”
“So would I,” put in Bob, “but I guess, as Jerry says, there’s nothing to be done but to wait.”
The day seemed very long, for they were watching for the return of the scientist. No one had the heart to do anything, and the boys sat listlessly about the camp, even Bob having a poor appetite for his meals.
Toward afternoon Ned proposed that they take their guns and a walk along the edge of the lake, not going far away from camp.
“We might see something to shoot at,” he said. “It will make the time pass quicker, and if there are any negroes hiding about they’ll hear the guns and know we’re on the watch.”