Motor Boat Boys Among the Florida Keys Part 15

First, there was Herb aboard the good old _Comfort_, and engaged in waving the ax, upon which he seemed to lay considerable dependence. He appeared to be defying some enemy, and promising all sorts of dire things if so be the boat was boarded.

But Nick's clarion voice was proceeding from a higher place; in fact, it seemed to ooze forth from the branches of a small tree that happened to grow not far from where the camp-fire had been started.

A look upward disclosed the fat boy, perched among the branches of the said tree. He varied his outcries by waving the shotgun, which seemed to be utterly useless in so far as discharging it was concerned.

There was a black bunch of hair busily engaged in trying to tear open some of the provisions that the fat boy had "toted" ash.o.r.e, in his desire to get supper started. It was, in truth, a bear, a hungry animal that had declined to gorge himself upon the remains of the jewfish, when other and greater delicacies were within reach.

It was breaking the heart of poor Nick to see this vandal threatening to dispose of all their precious food, so that they must go on scant rations the rest of the way to Naples or Meyers. No wonder that the hungry Nick whooped and yelled, calling the black pirate by all the hard names he could think up.

Now and then the animal would appear to be disturbed by all this racket.

On such occasions he would shuffle over to the sapling in which the fat boy was perched, raising his snout to sniff the air, as though half tempted to make the climb, and punish his detractor as seemed most fitting.

Nick evidently became fearful each time that he was going to be in for it. He would howl worse than ever, and make all sorts of dreadful threats as to what he might do in case such a thing happened.

"Oh! ain't you the lucky thing, though?" he bellowed, just as the others ranged up to take the whole picture in. "If I hadn't been silly enough to go ash.o.r.e, carrying Herb's old gun, and forget to put any sh.e.l.ls in the same, I guess you'd be a dead bear right now, old top! Here, quit shaking this tree, won't you? Think you own the whole ranch? Reckon other people got some right to live. Just go back to your jewfish dinner, and all may be forgiven; but you let our crackers and cheese and bacon and hominy alone, hear that? Wow! there, he's gone and busted the hominy sack! Look at the gump wasting all that fine food, would you?

Herb, can't you _please_ get some of those bully old sh.e.l.ls over to me somehow? I'd give a heap to tickle him between the sixth and seventh ribs, sure I would!"

Just then Jack gave a peculiar little whistle. Nick heard it, and immediately "perked up his ears," as Josh called it. He could be seen to twist his head around, and try to locate the one who had given the well known signal.

"Hey, Jack! wherever are you?" he called, in perplexity.

Jack did not dare make any reply. He had seen the bear start at the sound of the signal whistle, just as if the sly beast understood that it must surely spell danger for one of his type.

"Get ready to back me up, George, Jimmy!" Jack whispered.

They understood that since Jack carried the repeating rifle, it ought to be his duty to fire first. Should he make a failure, then they could come in, to try and load the marauding bear with all the lead possible.

If, after all, the beast managed to get away, he would at least surely carry the marks of the warm engagement with him the rest of his natural life.

By this time both Herb and Nick had discovered what was going on, and, naturally enough, they were deeply interested.

"Give him Hail Columbia, Jack!" called Herb, waving his ax above his head, as he stood there on the deck of the gallant old _Comfort_, looking as though ready to hurl defiance at all the bears in South Florida.

"Oh! be sure and pot him, Jack!" cried Nick, entreatingly. "I always wanted to see what real bear steak tasted like. And honest now, I reckon it'll be sweeter because the old villain ran me up this tree. Get a bead on him, and make dead sure of your aim. Don't I wish I had some buckshot sh.e.l.ls up here? Wouldn't I have enjoyed peppering him, though. Wow! give him another for his mother, Jack!"

Jack had waited until the bear turned, so as to expose his side. It was his desire to send the bullet so that it would strike just back of the foreleg, because he had always been told that that was the most vulnerable spot in which to hit any large animal.

When the opportunity came he sent in his card. Instantly there arose a tremendous commotion. The bear sent out a series of roars and whirled around, to fall down, and then struggle to its feet again, while Nick shouted in his excitement, and the other fellows added their voices to his chorus.

Jack coolly pumped another cartridge into the firing chamber of his repeating rifle, and stood ready to make a second try, if he found reason to believe such action were needed.

It was quickly proven to his satisfaction that nothing of the kind was required. The bear soon toppled over again, and from the way in which the poor animal kicked it was plain to be seen that the last stage had come.

"Bully! we're going to have bear steaks all right!" laughed the pleased Nick; and then he added: "Say, Jack, do you really believe the old sinner's kicked the bucket, or is he playing a little game to coax me down? I'm sore from hanging up here so long. Give him a punch and see if he moves, George. My gracious! what ails Josh, and where'd he get that nightcap he's wearing?"--and, overcome by curiosity, the fat boy came sliding down the bending sapling, to land in a heap at its foot.

Herb too came ash.o.r.e, filled with wonder, and eager to hear the story, which was told as they stood around the body of the bear that had invaded the camp, and sent Nick in hot haste "s.h.i.+nning" up a tree.

CHAPTER XIII.

JIMMY REFUSES TO GIVE UP THE GAME.

They were now fully in the great Gulf of Mexico, and headed for Tampa.

Nick had been able to enjoy bear steak to his heart's content. The others p.r.o.nounced the meat pretty dry, and poor eating; but when served in the shape of a stew, or hash, it answered the purpose. There was a whole lot, they decided, in knowing that it _was_ the genuine article.

Otherwise most of them would have declined to eat it, just as they would tough beef.

"Jack, is it true that there are ten thousand of these mangrove islands?"

"Well, you've got me there, Josh," laughed the leader of the little expedition, as, several days after the adventure with the bear, the three motor boats glided in and out among the queer collection of islets that marks the southwestern coast of Florida.

"But that's what they're called on the map," insisted Josh.

"Oh! you don't suppose for a minute anybody in the wide world could ever count these mud flats, covered with the everlasting mangrove, do you?"

Jack went on. "A few hundred, or even thousand more or less, wouldn't matter."

"For my part," spoke up George, "there are just nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine too many. I could be satisfied with one island.

Why, for two days now, we've been going in and out of these bally old bunches of mangroves, dodging storms, and fighting skeeters to beat the band."

"You'd better be thankful," declared Herb, "that after you led us in a trap, Jack took us out again, George. Only for him we might be lost right now, miles deep in these everlasting tangles. You notice that now we never get far away from a sight of the big water, don't you? It seems a dangerous business for a small boat cruiser to wander into this nest down here. He's apt to lose his head, and never come out again."

"Do we pull up soon, Jack?" asked Jimmy, beseechingly.

"Why, yes, as the afternoon is going," Jack replied; and then, as if noticing the eagerness plainly marked upon his s.h.i.+pmate's freckled face, he went on: "But what's in the wind with you, Jimmy? I can see that you're thinking of some stunt."

Jimmy laughed at that. The three boats were moving slowly on, close together, and he could easily send a significant look toward the complacent Nick.

"Oh, I know what ails him, all right!" cried the fat boy.

"Then suppose you tell us, Nick?" George demanded.

"Jimmy's got an idea in his head that he's going to knock my record for big fish all hollow, and this place strikes him as likely to pan out well. Haven't I seen him watching those big tarpon jumping this very afternoon? I just bet you he means to make a try for one of them, as soon as we anchor for the night," and Nick completed his a.s.sertion with a chuckle.

"And have ye any objection to my makin' a thry, tell me that?" Jimmy demanded.

"Sure not," Nick immediately replied; "only you're bound to have all the trouble for your pains, Jimmy boy."

"Ye think that way?" asked the other, suspiciously.

"Oh, for a lot of reasons!" came from the complacent Nick, ready to rest upon his honors. "First off, you'd have to fish in one of our little d.i.n.kies; and a tarpon is such a powerful fish, it'd drag you miles and miles before giving up. Remember, you're not allowed the least help to land the game."

Jimmy shook his head, and watched his rival from under his heavy eyebrows.

"Secondly," continued the fat boy, airily, "the biggest tarpon ever captured never weighed as much as two hundred pounds, remember that, Jimmy. Jack, would you mind stating what we decided the weight of my jewfish was?"

"We agreed on two hundred and thirty as about the right thing," came the reply.

"There you are, Jimmy," mocked Nick. "Better forget all about tarpon, and turn your attention to, say, whales."