Thus we now find them in their boat upon the lower part of Lake Okechobee, within about five miles of the beginning of the Everglades.
The sun was yet about three hours high, and the professor hoped to reach a good place to land before the shades of night gathered around them.
It was now the second day since they had entered the upper portion of the lake, by way of the stream beyond it, and the professor judged that the marshes must be close at hand.
Owing to the fact that their boat did not possess one of those useful things known as a centerboard, and that the winds had been contrary ever since they entered Lake Okechobee, they had made but a scant twenty miles in nearly two days.
While Prof. Easy was satisfied with this slow mode of progress, Martin Haypole was not.
The boat, which was christened Maid of the Marsh, appeared to be a very insignificant thing in the eyes of the Yankee.
He had laughed at it, swore at it and nearly cried over it.
And now, just as Prof. Easy made a prodigious effort and rose to his feet, he began again.
“I tell you, professor, this is the dod-rottedest boat that ever sot in water. Them trees there to the south’ard are ther Everglades; but d’yer think we’ll ever git thar at this rate? Mought better started in a rowboat. Maid of ther Marsh! A cussed fine name, ain’t it? I hope she gits stuck in some marsh afore long, an’ never gits out again. But I’m ’fraid we’ll both be gray-headed afore she gits to a marsh. Twenty miles in two days! Well, I swan ter Guinea! If that ain’t travelin’ in ther nineteenth century, I’m a downright fule!”