CHAPTER XXIII.
THANKS TO THE PILOT—CONCLUSION.
When the adventurous six left Savannah in their wake, and struck in for the stream below the city which would take them to Wassaw Sound, they knew that they had really started on what was destined to be the last leg of the trip to Florida.
By noon they had managed to make Ossaban Sound, and still kept on, hoping to cross the wide reach that formed St. Catherine's Sound that same day. But it was not to be. The sky clouded up, the wind whipped into the northwest, and in a short time the boys realized that it was getting very chilly for this far south, in the middle of October.
When they saw the wild aspect that wide stretch of tumbling water presented, it was quickly settled that the crossing must be put off until another day. Accordingly camp was made in a hamak, where the force of the wind was broken. And here they proceeded to take things as comfortably as possible.
George took his gun and went out to see if he could scare up any sort of game; for there had been murmurings of late to the effect that they did not seem to be getting their full share of such things on this trip.
The fact of the matter was, that so much of their precious time was spent in trying to overcome the numerous difficulties by which they found themselves confronted, that there were scant opportunities for fishing and hunting.
Nick persisted in getting a line out, as he had been seized with a great desire to partake of fresh fish for supper, and no one else showed any signs of intending to make a try.
Twenty minutes later those in camp were aroused by hearing a tremendous splash, accompanied by half muffled shouts.