been a cold one,
consisting entirely of fruit, and they had decided that for dinner
they would begin with turtle stew and end with broiled duck. When
the stew had been finished, Johnny inquired:

"Want that duck cooked now?"

"No, I don't. If I ate another mouthful I'd bust. Let's have the
duck next week."

Yet each of the boys managed to eat about a hatful of wild grapes,
which they found growing a short distance from their camp-fire.

Just as the boys were starting out again, Dick saw a turtle, and,
laying down his paddle, said:

"Johnny, if you can catch turtles, I can. See me go for that one."

"Hold on," shouted Johnny, as Dick was about to jump overboard.
"That's an alligator turtle. Bites worse'n a bulldog, and ain't good
fur much t' eat, nohow."

As they kept on up the creek, its banks came nearer together, trees
were more numerous, and the bushes thicker. Soon these began to
close overhead, while the stream itself broke up into several
smaller ones. As these twisted about, forming a labyrinth of little
channels bounded by hundreds of tiny keys, all cohered by an
interlaced canopy of leaves and branches, Dick wondered if ever they
could find their way out. But he had resolved that morning that
never again would he turn back in his exploring so long as it was
possible to go on. The little streams continued to become smaller
and the turns shorter, until to get around the bends the axe was in
constant use to clear a path, while the boys waded and often dragged
or carried the canoe. It was wearing work, and they frequently sat
down to rest. On one of these occasions Johnny inquired:

"How long you want ter keep this up? This ain't the right creek,
not the one Mr. Streeter told about."

"I know that. The creek he spoke of must be away south of this, but
this will probably take us to the Everglades, or near them. So we
had better keep on till the brook gives out and then travel to the
east, toting the canoe till we get to the Glades. We may be away
north of Osceola's camp, but there will likely be a trail that will
help us to find it, and anyhow we will be near the line that Mr.
Streeter thinks Ned and the Indian will follow. Don't you like the
plan?"

"Me? Sure! I don't want any better fun than t' keep on t' the
Atlantic Ocean, only 'fraid it'd be too hard fer you."

Night found the toys in a narrow stream, scarcely more than the
width of the canoe, with bushes around them so thick that they found
it