"I know people sometimes do lose their minds when they get into great danger," she said, apologetically.
"Hello!" came a voice from the water. "What are you laughing about?"
"Come and see," I shouted back, "and perhaps you will laugh, too."
The three men came; they had to wade ashore; and when they came they laughed. They brought a plank, and with a good deal of trouble they drew us out, but Euphemia would not let go of her leg of the little pelican until she was sure I had a tight hold of mine.
Day after day we now sailed northward, until we reached the little town at which we had embarked. Here we discarded our blue flannels and three half-grown beards, and slowly made our way through woods and lakes and tortuous streams to the upper waters of the St. John's. In this region the population of the river shores seemed to consist entirely of alligators, in which monsters Euphemia was greatly interested. But she seldom got a near view of one, for the sportsmen on our little steamer blazed away at every alligator as soon as it came into distant sight; and, although the ugly creatures were seldom hit, they made haste to tumble into the water or disappear among the tall reeds. Euphemia was very much annoyed at this.
"I shall never get a good close look at an alligator at all," she said.
"I am going to speak to the captain."
The captain, a big, good-natured man, listened to her, and entirely sympathized with her.
"Tom," said he to the pilot, "when you see another big 'gator on shore, don't sing out to nobody, but call me, and slow up."
It was not long before chocolate-colored Tom called to the captain, and rang the bell to lessen speed.
"Gentlemen," said the captain, walking forward to the group of sportsmen, "there's a big 'gator ahead there, but don't none of you fire at him. He's copyrighted."