so
drowsy that it paid no heed.

"Raise your oar-blade," I said, as we glided along, "or that brute may
turn angry and upset us."

I was sitting holding the tiller, steering, and Bill Cross held the
other oar, while my uncle, tired out by a tramp ashore, was lying down
forward, fast asleep, in the shadow cast by the sail, which kept on
filling and flapping--for in the reach we had now entered the wind was
hardly felt.

"I never saw a tree run at a boat, Master Nat," said Pete, as he raised
his oar-blade. But before we had half passed the sleeping reptile the
boy gave it a sudden chop on the back, and then, horrified by the
consequence of his act, he started up in his place, plunged overboard
into the deep, muddy water on the other side, and disappeared.

For a moment or two I thought that we were all going to follow, for the
reptile struck the boat a tremendous blow with its tail as it plunged
down, raising the river in waves and eddies, and making our craft dance
so that the water nearly came over the side, and we all clung to the
nearest object to our hands.

"What's that?" cried my uncle.

"Alligator," I said, in a startled tone.

"Where's the boy?"

"Gone overboard."

"Not seized by one of the loathsome monsters?"

"Oh, no, sir," said Bill, who looked rather startled. "He chopped it,
and it scared him over the side."

"Well, where is he?" cried my uncle, appealing to me, while I looked
vainly over the surface, which was now settling down.

"I--I don't know," I stammered. "He went over somewhere here."

"But where did he come up?" cried my uncle. "Haven't you seen him?"

I was silent, for a terrible feeling of dread kept me from speaking, and
my uncle turned to the carpenter.

"No, sir, I haven't seen him," was the reply.

"Let the boat drift down. Don't pull, man, you're sending us over to
the other side. Stop a moment."

My uncle hurriedly took Pete's place, seized the oar that was swinging
from the rowlock, and began to pull so as to keep the boat from
drifting, while I steered.

"Hadn't you better let her go down a bit, sir?" said the carpenter. "He
may be drifting, and will come up lower."

"But the lad could swim," said my uncle, as I began to feel a horrible
chill which made my hands grow clammy.

"Swim? Yes, sir--like a seal. I'm getting skeart. One of they great
lizardy things must have got him."

"Cease rowing!" cried my uncle, and he followed my example of standing
u