“What’s that?” asked Phil.
“That’s the boat you’re goin’ in on Wednesday,” said Brewer’s brother. “She’s a good little boat—Cap’n Root’s boat.”
“I suppose that’s the one,” said Chap; “and we were just talking about what we should do while we were waiting for her. Can’t you give us an idea? Would it pay to get a boat, and go out after ducks?”
“No,” said the other; “that ain’t much fun, and they ain’t good eatin’. If I was you fellers, I’d go up to Lowper’s Creek, and shoot ’gators.”
“Shoot alligators!” cried Chap. “That’s splendid! Where is that creek?”
“It’s about ten or twelve miles above here,” said Brewer’s brother, “and it’s jist chock full o’ ’gators. You never see so many in all your born days. You kin hire a rifle at the hotel, and you kin git all the teeth and hides you want.”
The boys considered this a glorious idea.
“But how will we get there?” asked Phil. “We might hire a boat, but Adam is busy, and couldn’t sail us.”
“I’ll take you up in that boat,” said Brewer, “and I kin sail you jist as well as Adam Guy. I won’t charge you nothin’, and I’ll borrow a little dinky, and tow it behind. We have to go up the creek in a row-boat when we begin to hunt ’em.”
All this promised great sport for the boys, and no time was lost in making the necessary arrangements.