The boat, which Coot rowed in an extremely gentle manner, did not seem to disturb them at all, and they came toward it, or swam away from it, as if it was of no consequence, some of them approaching almost within an oar’s length. On the bank, huge monsters, who had been lying in the reeds and mud, raised themselves on their short legs, and looked around at the intruders, while big ones and little ones slumped into the water on each side, some of them swimming toward the boat, and some of them away from it.
“I’m going to take a crack at one of them,” said Phil, picking up the rifle.
“No, no!” said Coot. “Don’t do that. Wait till we float down.”
“Why, we can’t get a better chance than we have now,” said Phil. “We don’t frighten them a bit.”
“But that ain’t the way,” said the other. “You’ve got to hunt ’em the right way, or it’s no good.”
So they rowed on still farther, and the creek became a little narrower, while the number of alligators greatly increased. Several times Coot touched one of them with the end of the oar, and a big fellow rose right under the boat, giving it quite a jar.
“Look here!” said Coot, with a troubled expression. “I never see ’em as thick as this afore. This warm weather has brought ’em out.”
“We might as well shoot some of them,” said Chap. “We can never have a better chance.”
“Don’t you do it,” cried Coot. “You’ll make ’em mad, and they’ll pitch in and clean us up in less than no time.”
“What’s the good of coming,” said Phil, “if we can’t shoot them when we see them.”