“Wait till we git where there ain’t so many,” said Coot. “I reckon they’re scarcer higher up.”
“Queer way of hunting,” remarked Phœnix, “when you look for a place where the game is scarce.”
At this moment an immense alligator, with a body apparently nearly as big around as a barrel, who had been standing on the bank intently watching the boat as it passed, waddled hastily into the water, and swam directly after it. Coot saw the approaching creature, and, with a sudden exclamation, he began to tug wildly at the oars. Phil seized the rifle, and turned toward the alligator.
“Don’t fire!” screamed Coot. “You’ll rile him awful! You’ll rile ’em all! Put down the gun!”
Unwillingly Phil laid down the rifle, and Brewer rowed as hard as he could. The alligator did not pursue them long, but soon disappeared beneath the surface of the water; but this did not allay the fears of the oarsman.
“He ain’t gin up yet,” he gasped. “He’ll come up in a minnit, right under us, and then over we’ll go!”
“Don’t fire!” screamed Coot.
This was not a cheerful prospect, and the boys would have assisted in the rowing had there been any spare oars.
But although Mr. Brewer was a small man, he was very vigorous, and he pulled away bravely. At the end of about five minutes of this violent exercise he stopped and rested.