“Nobody can say we haven’t seen alligators,” said Chap, as the boat slowly moved on.
“No, indeed!” said Phœnix; “but as far as I am concerned, I never want to lay eyes on one again.”
“Look at that wretch!” exclaimed Phil. “I really believe he was going to take hold of your oar.”
“I hope none of them will do that,” said Chap, looking round apprehensively, “for I want to get out of this, and I don’t want to trust to floating down, either.”
Fearful as the boys were that they might at any moment run afoul of some bad-tempered creature, they kept steadily on, and at last, in safety, reached the mouth of the creek.
Even here an occasional alligator showed itself, but the boys took no notice of these, and rowed swiftly toward The Rolling Stone.
“Hurrah, boys!” cried Chap, when they had made the small boat fast to the other. “Now, at last, we are masters of our own vessel! This is splendid! Nobody on board to tell us what to do!”
“It won’t be so splendid,” said Phœnix, “if we can’t get her up to town.”
“But we can,” cried Phil. “I can sail a boat better than that Coot Brewer.”
“You’ll have to do that,” said Chap, “or I won’t go along with you. I don’t think Coot knew anything about sailing. How he is going to get his boat down to his brother’s is more than I know. His business in life is to hunt alligators.”