“Now, Cap’n,” advised Jeff Randolph, “yo’ may as well put on as much speed as yo’ can handle. It’ll be some time befo’ we’re likely to find any more ’gators above water within sound of the shots that have just been fired.”
For twenty minutes more the launch cruised along with no sign of the game of the Everglades. In places the water courses proved barely wide enough to permit the passage of the boat. Presently they caught sight of a stretch of open water at least a third of a mile in diameter.
“Oh, say! Look ovah there!” whispered Jeff, excitedly, pointing to land at the eastward.
“Over there,” well up on a slope, lay an alligator as huge as the one that Halstead had shot on a former occasion. The great reptile seemed asleep. It had evidently climbed high up from the water in order to catch the warmth of whatever sunlight might filter through the tall, moss-encumbered trees.
In great excitement Tremaine turned, holding up his hand as a sign to the occupants of the rowboat to halt. Then he bent over the young skipper, whispering hoarsely:
“Not too fast or too near. Slow, and no noise.”
Halstead, turning his hand, repeated the order to Joe Dawson by signal. The launch almost immediately fell off to a speed that was barely more than drifting.
“We mustn’t miss that fine fellow,” exclaimed Tremaine, throbbing with all the ardor of the sportsman. “Halstead, I think that fellow must be bigger than the one you bagged. He’s an old-timer!”
The ladies entered into the general excitement. They rose, remaining standing, though Ida Silsbee, who did not enjoy the report of a gun close to her ear, slowly tiptoed toward the stern.
“My shot first!” spoke up Tremaine, eagerly. Then he added: