It was lying on a
log, near shore, and just ahead of the boat. She set up such a yell that
it made every one of us jump, and her mother came rushing out of the
saloon to see if she was dead. The alligator, who was a good-sized
fellow, was so scared that he just slid off his log without taking time
to get decently awake, and before any one but Rectus and myself had a
chance to see him. The ladies were very much annoyed at this, and urged
Corny to scream softly the next time she saw one. Alligators were pretty
scarce this trip, for some reason or other. For one thing, the weather
was not very warm, and they don't care to come out in the open air
unless they can give their cold bodies a good warming up.

Corny now went up on the upper deck, because she thought that she might
see alligators farther ahead if she got up higher. In five minutes, she
had her hat taken off by a branch of a tree, which swept upon her, as
she was leaning over the rail. She called to the pilot to stop the boat
and go back for her hat, but the captain, who was up in the pilot-house,
stuck out his head and said he reckoned she'd have to wait until they
came back. The hat would hang there for a day or two. Corny made no
answer to this, but disappeared into the saloon.

In a little while, she came out on the lower deck, wearing a seal-skin
hat. She brought a stool with her, and put it near the bow of the boat,
a little in front and on one side of the box on which Rectus and I were
sitting. Then she sat quietly down and gazed out ahead. The seal-skin
cap was rather too warm for the day, perhaps, but she looked very pretty
in it.

Directly she looked around at us.

"Where do you shoot alligators?" said she.

"Anywhere, where you may happen to see them," said I, laughing. "On the
land, in the water, or wherever they may be."

"I mean in what part of their bodies?" said she.

"Oh! in the eye," I answered.

"Either eye?" she asked.

"Yes; it don't matter which. But how are you going to hit them?"

"I've got a revolver," said she.

And she turned around, like the turret of an iron-clad, until the muzzle
of a big seven-shooter pointed right at us.

"My conscience!" I exclaimed; "where did you get that? Don't point it
this way!"

"Oh! it's father's. He let me have it. I am going to shoot the first
alligator I see. You needn't be afraid of my screaming this time," and
she revolved back to her former position.

"One good thing," said Rectus to