CHAPTER XIV

CAUGHT IN SAW GRASS

Ottiby made his way to the stern where he held the rope fastened to his canoe, by which it was being towed. Though he had been near to death he seemed perfectly at his ease now, with no regard of what might have happened if the travelers in the speedy _Dartaway_ had not come along. But that he was not ungrateful was shown by his quick thought in the matter of Jerry.

The motor boat was moored in a little cove but, even before it was made fast Ottiby had leaped ashore and disappeared in the woods.

“Looks as if he was running away,” said Ned.

“No danger,” replied the professor. “He’s going for the plant, I believe.”

The professor was correct. In about ten minutes Ottiby returned. In his hand he held several long roots. Mr. Snodgrass tried to discover what they were, but the chief knew only the Indian name for them, and they were a species of plant with which the scientist was not familiar.

“Me make foot feel no pain,” said Ottiby as he took the roots and rolled them into a compact mass. This he wet in the river and then he pounded the fibers with a wooden club he had picked up in the woods. When he had the roots into a sort of rude plaster he laid it on Jerry’s foot, over the wound.

“So like Indians do,” Ottiby said. “Wait while then can cut and no feel.”

In about five minutes Jerry exclaimed.

“It feels as if my foot was going to sleep.”

“Then the stuff is working,” remarked Mr. Snodgrass. “We’ll wait a while longer and then I’ll take the arrow head out. I’m glad we rescued Ottiby.”

As a test of the power of the Indian’s medicine the professor, after waiting a while longer, stuck a pin in Jerry’s foot near the wound.

“I don’t feel it a bit,” the lad said.

“Then I’ll operate,” announced Mr. Snodgrass. Jerry closed his eyes as he did not like to see the action of the knife. In a few minutes the scientist announced that it was all over and that the arrow head was out. He showed it to Jerry, and an ugly enough weapon it was.

“I hope it isn’t poisonous,” remarked Jerry.

“Not much danger of that, I think,” said Mr. Snodgrass. “If there was ever poison on it the stuff has lost its power, for the head must have lain on the ground for a hundred years or more. Now I’d like to have some healing medium with which to bind up the wound. I wonder if Ottiby knows of some herbs I might use.”

He inquired of the Indian, explaining as well as he could what was wanted. The chief nodded his head, and once more disappeared in the woods. He was not gone so long this time, and, when he returned he had a bunch of leaves. These he bruised up and bound on Jerry’s foot.

“How do you feel?” asked the professor when the rude dressing had been applied.

“It’s beginning to pain some, but I can stand it.”

“The numbing effect of the roots is wearing off,” said the scientist. “It will hurt for a while, I expect, and then perhaps the leaves will make it better.”

“Well, we’ve had a rather strenuous afternoon,” remarked Bob, when Jerry had been comfortably propped up with cushions. “Now what’s next on the program? Supper I believe.”

“You’re not going to give anyone else a chance to vote, are you, Chunky?” cried Ned. “Never mind, I believe you’re right. Come on, and we’ll get a meal ready.”

The old Indian, who had not taken the trouble to remove his wet clothes sat on the stern of the _Dartaway_ watching with curious eyes the preparations for the meal.

“Shall we ask him to stay?” inquired Bob of the professor. “He looks hungry.”

“Stay? Eat?” inquired the scientist of the Indian, making motions toward the victuals which the boys were laying out.

“Me stay,” was the laconic answer.

After the early supper it was decided they should camp where they were for the night, until they saw how Jerry’s sore foot was. The bunks were made up and the mosquito canopy spread, as, with the approach of darkness, myriads of these and other insects made life miserable.

Ottiby watched these preparations with wonder in his eyes, but said nothing. It was dusk when he got into his canoe and began to paddle off.

“Me see yo’ some more,” he promised as he disappeared amid the darkening shadows. “Ottiby no forget.”

“He’s a queer customer,” remarked Bob, as the Indian’s boat passed around a bend in the river.

“He’s a mighty good one,” put in Jerry. “My foot feels fine.”

Next morning an examination of the wound showed, to the experienced eyes of the professor, that it was doing well, though it would take a week to heal. They decided to find a comfortable place to camp and go ashore, as there would be more room to move about.

Jerry wanted his companions to continue the voyage but the scientist decided they might get to some place unfavorable to the lad’s speedy recovery, and he overruled the proposition.

They went down the river a few miles the next day and found a sort of clearing, near a little cove, which made an ideal place to stop. There they remained about ten days. During that time the professor hunted bugs and butterflies to his heart’s content. He was constantly on the lookout for the prize specimen with the blue and gold wings, but saw no trace of it. However, he was not discouraged, as he had not counted on coming across it until he got to Lake Okeechobee.

The leaves which the Indian bound on Jerry’s foot proved a wonderful medicine. At the end of ten days the wound was healed, and Jerry could, by using care, walk on his injured foot.

“I guess it’s about time to resume our trip,” he remarked one morning, when he found he could get along fairly well. “I’m anxious to get out on the big lake in our boat.”

Accordingly camp was struck, and once more the travelers were dropping down the Kissimmee river. They traveled slowly, and about three days later they found themselves on a broad lagoon, which, by the map, they knew opened into Lake Okeechobee.

“Speed her up! We want to reach the lake before night!” exclaimed Jerry to Bob, who was at the wheel. Jerry was still acting the part of an invalid passenger.

“Maybe we’d better keep near shore,” remarked the professor. “It looks as if a bad storm was brewing.”

During the last hour the sky had become overcast with masses of dull, leaden clouds. The wind too was increasing in power and the waters of the lagoon began to break into waves in the midst of which the _Dartaway_ pitched and tossed.

“I think it would be wise to go ashore,” said Jerry. “We’d better camp there for the night. We can go out on the lake in the morning.”

Bob put the wheel over and they landed at a place where tall green grass came down almost to the water’s edge.

“We’ll have to hustle to get the tent up if we’re going to sleep here to-night,” said Ned. “That long grass looks as if there might be snakes in it.”

“If there are perhaps I can get a few specimens,” spoke Mr. Snodgrass. “But come on, boys. The storm will soon be upon us.”

Bob and Ned, aided by the scientist, and by Jerry, who could perform light tasks, soon had the tent up. They securely moored the _Dartaway_, and then set about making things comfortable for the night. The wind was increasing in force, and a few drops of rain fell, but the boys knew their tent was a strong and dry one, and securely put up.

They went to bed early, as it had been a tiresome day. Shortly before midnight they were all awakened by a crash. Then it seemed as if a giant hand had lifted their tent from the ground. An instant later they felt a deluge of rain.

“Secure the tent! Hold it down! Grab the ropes!” yelled Ned.

Bob and the professor sprang to aid him, but they were too late. The tent was blown down.

Out from under the clinging canvas they struggled into the darkness of the storm, for the wind had extinguished their lanterns. They could not see which way to go to get to their boat, where they knew they would be sheltered, for they had put up the awning before camping out.

Suddenly Bob uttered a cry.

“Something has cut me!”

“Me too!” cried Jerry. “It feels as if a lot of knives were sawing my hands and face.”

“It’s the giant saw-grass!” called the professor. “It grows in this region. The wind is whipping the long blades into our faces. Stoop down, boys, or you’ll be badly cut!”

They tried to do this, but it seemed as if the saw-grass was all over. In the darkness they had plunged into a patch of the dreaded stuff. The serrated edges of the rush-like growth scarified their skin like knives, and the boys and the professor were soon bleeding from several places.