CHAPTER VI

BOB GETS A SCARE

Professor Snodgrass wound back on the reel what remained of the line. Then he unjointed the pole.

“Yes,” he remarked. “I thought that was about the only way we could make the turtle let go of the rope. I enticed him around to one side, and that, naturally, made the rope drop from under his flipper. We’ll have to be more careful after this.”

Speeding the motor up, Jerry soon had the boat near shore, and he directed the course along the coast in comparatively quiet water.

They came into a small sheltered bay and, in a little cove where palm trees came down almost to the water’s edge, forming an ideal spot to rest, they went ashore.

“I think I’ll take a little walk into the interior while you boys get dinner,” remarked the professor, taking his butterfly net and the cyanide bottle which he used for painlessly killing insects he captured.

“Don’t get lost,” advised Ned.

“If you see any orange groves let me know,” called Bob.

The three boys were soon busy setting up their portable stove and preparing a meal, using the canned provisions they had brought along.

“How about fish?” asked Ned. “Looks as though there ought to be some in this cove.”

“Try your luck,” said Jerry.

Ned got out his tackle and soon was casting in off a small point of land that stuck out into deep water. In a little while he had caught several fine specimens, and they were soon in the frying pan with some strips of bacon.

“Smells just like a restaurant,” spoke Bob, taking long breaths.

“It will be better if it tastes like one,” observed Jerry, who was superintending the cooking. “I am a little out of practice.”

“Wonder why the professor doesn’t come back,” remarked Ned, when dinner was ready to serve. “I think he must be hungry.”

“Probably he is, but he doesn’t know it,” suggested Bob. “Very likely he’s chasing after a red, white and blue ant.”

“I’ll go after him,” volunteered Jerry. “You fellows go on eating. Don’t wait for me.”

He started off in the direction taken by the professor while Bob, too hungry to stand on ceremony, began to do ample justice to the food. Ned joined him, and they were nearly finished before the scientist and Jerry appeared coming through the grove of palm trees.

“What’s Jerry got in his arms?” asked Ned.

“I don’t know. The professor is laden down with the same thing, evidently.”

“They’re oranges!” cried Bob, as he caught sight of the yellow objects. “They’ve found a grove of orange trees! I wish I’d gone along!”

“Here are some of the specimens the professor captured,” remarked Jerry with a laugh, and he placed his fruit on the grass.

“Where do they grow?” asked Bob eagerly, beginning to extract the juice from a large orange.

“About half a mile back,” Mr. Snodgrass replied. “I met the owner of the grove and he invited me to take as many as I wanted.”

After dinner they took up their journey again, and that night slept on the boat, anchored in a little harbor about forty miles further down the coast.

They had an early breakfast and after making some minor adjustments to the engine started off again. The weather continued pleasant, though there was quite a swell on, and riding in the boat was not as comfortable as it had been the previous day.

“We’ll reach Mosquito Inlet about noon,” announced Jerry looking at the map in the guide book.

“Very good,” said the professor.

“I’d say it was very bad,” put in Ned, making a wry face. “I’m not very fond of mosquitoes.”

“I need a few more specimens to complete my collection,” the scientist added.

“What is Mosquito Inlet?” asked Bob.

“It’s an entrance from the ocean to what is called Hillsborough river,” replied Jerry. “It’s really a part of the sea, but the book says it’s a fine route for boats, and we’ll take it. From there, by means of the Haulover Canal, we can get right into Indian river and reach Titusville.”

“Then let’s do it by all means,” suggested Bob. “This motion is a little too much for me.”

In fact the rolling and pitching of the _Dartaway_ under the influence of the ocean swell, was not very agreeable, and all the travelers were glad when they reached the inlet and speeded through it to the quiet waters of Hillsborough River.

They ate lunch aboard without stopping, as it was low tide, and not easy to go ashore across the stretch of mud revealed by the receding water. That evening they emerged into Indian River, a beautiful stretch of water about one hundred and fifty miles long, almost as straight as an arrow, and separated from the sea by a narrow strip of land. Its waters are salt like the ocean, and it is affected by the tides.

As dusk settled down the boys found the scene one of much beauty. On their left they could catch occasional glimpses of the masts of ocean vessels sailing close to the coast to avoid the powerful Gulf stream. On their right was a forest of palmetto and other trees, forming a sort of screen for the orange groves beyond.

“It smells just like--just like--” and Bob paused for a comparison.

“Just like a wedding party,” finished Jerry as he took in deep breaths of the orange-perfumed air.

The river was widening as they advanced, and the air was filled with flocks of ducks and geese returning from their feeding grounds.

“I’m going to try for some!” exclaimed Bob, preparing to get out his shot gun.

“Better not to-night,” advised the professor. “It’s getting dark and you couldn’t see to pick them up if they fell into the water.”

“I’ll have some to-morrow,” declared Bob. “I’m very fond of roast duck.”

It seemed to grow dark suddenly with the quickness that is always noticed in southern countries. Ned, who had taken his place at the steering wheel, looked down at the water and gave a startled cry.

“What is it?” asked Jerry.

“It’s on fire!” exclaimed Bob, as he glanced over the side.

Indeed it did seem as though the river was ablaze. For a space of a hundred feet or more ahead of the bow, and on either side, there were long lines and streamers of fire, crossed and recrossed as though some giant lace-making machine was weaving a pattern in colors of glowing, golden yellow.

“A beautiful display of the phosphorescent qualities of this stream,” observed the professor. “Very beautiful. It is caused by the fish swimming about,” the scientist explained. “They agitate the water, which possesses suspended in it a quantity of phosphorous and when it is disturbed it seems to glow like fire. I have often read about it, but I have seldom witnessed it. It is almost light enough to see to catch specimens by.”

“The guide book speaks of it,” said Jerry. “I ought to have known what it was. But I guess we’d better think of camping. We can’t go any farther to-night.”

Lanterns were lighted, and with the searchlight glowing in the bow, to enable them to select a good place to land, the boat was sent toward shore. All the way there they seemed to be moving through a river of fire.

They found a good landing place, and soon had their camp arranged for the night. It was decided to sleep ashore as it was somewhat crowded on board. Accordingly, mosquito canopies were arranged, and after supper the boys prepared their beds under a shelter tent which was erected.

“I’m going to make me a mattress,” said Bob, as, carrying a lantern, he went down to the edge of the river.

“What of; Spanish moss?” asked Ned. “I’ve read there’s lots of that in Florida.”

“That would be fine,” replied Chunky. “But I don’t see any around. No, I’m going to make it of grass.”

He proceeded to pull a lot of long bladed herbage from the bank of the river, and soon had himself a soft nest under the shelter of the tent.

“Guess I’ll beat you all at sleeping to-night,” said Bob, as he stretched out in his clothes on the grass. The others had wrapped themselves up in their blankets.

“Go ahead,” murmured Ned. “I’m satisfied with what I’ve got. I could sleep on a bare plank.”

Soon deep breathing told that all the occupants of the camp were far off in slumber-land. It was after midnight when all the others were suddenly aroused by a series of frightened yells from Bob.

“Something’s got me! It’s got hold of my foot! It’s dragging me to the river!” he cried.

Ned and Jerry leaped to their feet. Jerry grabbed his gun which was near him on the ground. The professor snatched down the lantern from a pole in front of the tent and flashed it in Bob’s direction.

“It’s an alligator!” yelled Ned, pointing to some big black object. “Fire, Jerry!”

Jerry raised his rifle, but, as he did so Bob pulled his foot away from whatever creature had hold of him and ran toward his companions who had gathered in a group some distance from the tent.

“Shoot it! It tried to eat me up!” he yelled.

Jerry fired point blank, but he evidently missed for the black object, dimly seen in the shadows cast by the lantern seemed to flop away. An instant later a loud splash told that it had entered the river.