“Oh, but they do,” I said; “I’ve seen them.”
“’Course you have; but when I said so, some one laughed, and asked how many eggs you can find in a squirrel’s nest.—So you don’t believe the ’gators build in trees, don’t you?”
“No; but I believe they lay eggs. How many are there in this?”
“Oh, it isn’t that sort of nest. I mean a nest where he goes to sleep in; and you and me’s going to wake him up, and try if we can’t catch him and bring him home.”
I could not help thinking of the Indians, as I went with Morgan to make the preparations, which were simple enough, and consisted in arming himself with a long pole and giving me one similar, after which he put a piece of rope in his pocket, and declared himself ready.
We went off in the same direction as that chosen when we killed the rattlesnake, but turned off to the left directly, and made for the bank of the river, that bore away from the landing-place, towards a low, moist part, intersected by the meandering stream which drained the marshy part.
Here we had to proceed rather cautiously, for the place was full of decayed trees covered with brilliant green and grey moss, and looking solid, but which crumbled away at a touch from the foot, and often concealed holes into which it would have been awkward to fall, since we did not know what kind of creatures lived therein.
“Seem to have lost the place,” said Morgan, after we had been going along for some time pretty well parallel with the river.
“Oh, Morgan!” I exclaimed, impatiently.
“No; I have it,” he cried. “I remember that tree with the long moss hanging down so far. The ground’s harder here too. More to the left, Master George. There you are at last.”