“It’s easy enough, sir. S’pose I take a charge of powder, and lay it loose on a stone. If I set light to it there’s a puff and some smoke, and that’s all, because it has plenty of room. But if I shut it up tight in a gun-barrel rammed down hard, it goes off with a loud bang, because it has to burst its way out. If you ram lightly, the bullet will go only a little way. If you ram hard, your bullet will go straight to the mark.”
“There it is then, rammed hard,” I said, as I made the ramrod ring.
“That’s right. Now you shall shoot the ’gator. Some folks say their skin’s too hard for the bullet to go through. We shall see.”
We went on together toward our landing-place, and then on and away to the left, following our previous day’s trail more and more into the swamp, beside the river, talking about the fight we had had with the reptile, Morgan laughingly saying that he should like to have another with one twice as big, while I thought I should not, but did not say so.
The morning was delightful, with the birds piping and singing, and in the open sunny parts we caught sight of the lovely orange orioles, and those all yellow and black—birds which took the place of our thrushes and blackbirds of the old country. Every now and then a tall crane would fly up from where he had been prodding about with his sharp bill in some mossy pool, his long legs trailing out behind him as if he had been dancing on stilts.
It had all grown familiar to me now, but I was never tired of gazing at the dark, shadowy places where the cypresses rose right out of the black water, and the great trailing moss, ten and fifteen feet long, hung down from the boughs like ragged veils. The place looked as if it might be the haunt of large, water-loving serpents, or strange beasts which lurked in waiting for the unwary traveller; but we heard nothing but the cries of birds and the rustling and beating of wings, or the hum of insect life, save now and then when there was a splash from the river away to our right, or from a black pool hidden from us by the dense growth.
“Make some of ’em stare over at home, Master George,” said Morgan.
“What at?”
“Place like this. Miles and miles of it, and no use made of it. Round here! That’s right. Remember that old rotten tree?”
“Yes,” I said; “we must be close to the place now. How near shall I stand to the alligator when I shoot?”