“It takes a little coon to find out things about animals!” grinned Alex. “Here we’ve been studying over who tossed the bag, and Mose settles the question in a minute. That is sure some coon!”
“There’s an affinity between a boy and a dog, anyway!” Clay laughed.
“I wonder if the kid is right?” Case questioned.
The boys discussed the matter during supper, and, right or wrong, Mose was given his plate of honey, which he was obliged to divide with Teddy!
The night passed away without incident, and early morning found the Rambler on her way to the Gulf again. The day was not different from other days for a week. The boys passed plantations and villages, swamps and lagoons, which seemed to have escaped the force of the flood, but now and then came to a wrecked cabin toppling from a bank.
They secured a supply of gasoline at a small place near the Arkansas line and at night found themselves in the heart of a desolate country. When they tied up they were at the mouth of a lagoon which seemed to lead into a great swamp.
“It is a sure thing that no leather bags will be thrown on deck to-night,” Clay observed, as supper was prepared. “We are even off the track of the steamers, for they seem to stick to the opposite side of the stream.”
“This would be a dandy spot for a band of river pirates to inhabit,” Jule added.
“Don’t talk about pirates!” admonished Clay. “You’ll have Mose turning white again. Some day he’ll turn so white with fright that he will never turn black again, and he wouldn’t like that, would you, Mose?”
“Ah’s ’tented wif mah color,” answered the boy.