“Yes; we’ve some makeshifts in the way of clothes that will make the child drier and warmer,” replied Mrs. Tremaine.
“Then we’ll run in to shore, disappear under the trees, and let you get Ida into those clothes,” replied the host, noting that his ward was already beginning to shake.
The launch was ran to the nearest land, the rowboat following. As soon as both craft had been made fast the men-folks stepped out. Tom lifted a service-worn telescope bag from under a forward seat, remarking:
“Joe and I carry a few extra things with us, too.”
The Florida men led the way over the bogs, watchfully alert for rattlers or other dangerous snakes. Jeff encountered one young rattler, and killed it with a few well-directed blows of a stick. Out of sight of the boat, Tom and Joe quickly shed their dripping garments, rubbing down and putting on dry clothing.
After waiting a sufficient length of time, Henry Tremaine shouted to his wife, receiving answer that the men might return.
They found Ida Silsbee reclining comfortably at the stern of the boat, wrapped in an overcoat and tucked in with steamer rugs.
“I’m as warm as toast,” she declared. Then, gratefully:
“I hope you boys are as well off.”
“Oh, we are,” Joe nodded. “We’re used to going overboard, or standing in pouring rains. We never go far without a clothes kit.”