Once, as they were crossing quite a broad sheet of water that suddenly opened out about them, something bumped up under the boat with such violence that Quatty was almost upset from his position astern.
“Good gracious, was that an earthquake?” exclaimed Harry much alarmed.
“’Gator,” grunted Quatty, “ah’d jes like to stop an’ git his ugly hide fo’ dat.”
“There’ll be no shooting to-night, let’s hope,” was Frank’s reply.
They poled along in silence after this. The boys were completely bewildered and had no more idea of where they were going than if they had been blindfolded. But Quatty never stopped poling and fell to his work with such an air of certainty that the boys were compelled to conclude that he knew what he was about.
Suddenly the negro uttered a sharp grunt.
“What is it?” asked Frank instantly.
“Look ober dere, massa, an’ tell me wad you see,” said Quatty, pointing dead ahead.
At the risk of upsetting the boat and himself Frank stood up and saw reflected on the sky, not more than a mile ahead, a deep-red glow.
“Fire,” he exclaimed.