"Talk to me about your narrow squeaks, they don't appeal to me one little bit!" he gasped. "Where's the old alligator monster now, Will? Did you snap him off?"
"He never came up again. That's just my luck, you know."
"Better times coming, Will. You'll take many pictures of 'gators on logs and sunny banks before we finish this little trip," laughed Frank.
"Yes, I know what you're laughing at," grunted Jerry, "and I suppose I did look like a big frog as I sailed away off the bow. After this the lookout ought to be tied to his seat. It was lucky, though, you had so little headway on, Frank. We might have ended our cruise half an hour after we began it."
The air was balmy, and Jerry seemed nothing loth to sit there and dry off, as the journey was resumed down the river.
"Any game along here, do you think?" asked Will presently.
"They told me there was plenty, only you have to look sharp, and not get lost in the swamps. Men have gone out hunting and never come back again; though, of course, these were strangers, and not the natives. Nobody ever knew whether they were lost or fell into the hands of some black criminals who were hanging out hereabouts."
Jerry volunteered this information. He was always making inquiries in connection with the possibilities of game.
"I saw a blue heron just then, swinging downstream below us. And there's something snow-white over there. Yes, it must be a crane standing in the water, with his fishing-rod ready for business; and there goes a string of white birds, over yonder. Do you know what they are, Frank?" asked Will.
"I'm not sure, but I think they belong to the ibis family. Look at that 'coon scurrying up that log, running from the water. He's been trying to scoop out a dinner of fish, too. Nearly everything feeds on fish down here, even many of the wild ducks. Got him that time, did you, Will?"