“For,” he announced, “we came here to hunt alligators, and that’s what we’re going to do. Now, you six men can be towed by us in another boat when we go into the Everglades. The presence of such a party, armed, will be enough to keep any friends of the prisoners that may be lurking in the big swamp country from showing us any hostile attentions.”
The evening was spent with some further accounts of Tom’s trip into the Everglades. When it came time to retire it was decided to let the six Florida men stand guard over the bungalow, one at a time, through the night.
By daylight the entire party was up again. With the first glimpses of light the six Florida men had begun a further exploration of the country thereabouts. Two of them came upon the battered, though serviceable, old boat that Sim and his crew had evidently used. Some of the others found a covered hiding-place in the woods where the Everglades rascals had hidden much ghostly paraphernalia. Among this stuff was a jointed bamboo “ghost,” covered with cotton cloth—the same thing that had frightened Ham Mockus so badly in the kitchen.
“Now, do you see what you were shivering about?” demanded Henry Tremaine, laughingly.
“Ah reckon Ah’s done bin a plumb idiot,” admitted Ham, shamefacedly.
“Not any bigger idiot than folks hereabouts have been during the last three years,” rejoined Tremaine. “Nor any bigger idiot than people have always been, all over the world. But, Ham, my lad, take a bit of advice: whenever you hear of a sure-enough, really-and-truly ghost, just get out on its trail with a shot-gun. Don’t lose any time shivering, and don’t waste any time until you’ve brought that ghost into camp.”
“No, sah, Ah won’t,” promised Ham, solemnly.
“He’ll run and hide his head the very next moan he hears on a dark night,” laughed Jeff Randolph.
“W’ut yo’ talkin’ erbout, Marse Jeff?” demanded Ham, with a show of indignation. “Jes’ a plain, or’nary niggah?”
Dixon was on hand again, trying to be extremely pleasant to young Captain Halstead.