Part 47 (1/2)
”Ah--ha--ahem! No, no--that is, you see--er--well, er, that Dutch boy was always saying something slangy.”
”Hans?”
”Yes.”
”Professor! professor! He's not here to defend himself.”
”Oh, well! Oh, well! Ha! ha! ha! Quite a joke--quite a little joke, you know! You always appreciate a joke, Frank. You are full of fun yourself.”
As under the circ.u.mstances there was nothing else to do, they finally paddled slowly forward, looking for a piece of dry land, where they could stop and camp for the night.
They approached a small cl.u.s.ter of trees, which rose above the rushes, and it was seen that they seemed to be growing on land that was fairly high and dry.
”We'll stop there,” decided Frank. ”It's not likely we'll find another place like that anywhere in the Everglades.”
As they came nearer, they saw the trees seemed to be growing on an island, for the water course divided and ran on either side of them.
”Just the place for a camp!” cried Frank, delightedly. ”This is really a very interesting and amusing adventure.”
”It may be for you,” groaned the professor; ”but you forget that it is said to be possible for persons to lose themselves in the Everglades and never find their way out.”
”On the contrary, I remember it quite well. In fact, it is said that, without a guide, the chances of finding a way out of the Everglades is small, indeed.”
”Well, what do you feel so exuberant about?”
”Why, the possibility that we'll all perish in the Everglades adds zest to this adventure--makes it really interesting.”
”Frank, you're a puzzle to me. You are cautious about running into danger of any sort, but, once in it, you seem to take a strange and unaccountable delight in the peril. The greater the danger, the happier you seem to feel.”
”Thot's roight,” nodded Barney.
”When I am not in danger, my good judgment tells me to take no chances; but when I get into it fairly, I know the only thing to be done is to make the best of it. I delight in adventure--I was born for it!”
A dismal sound came from the professor's throat.
”When your uncle died,” said Scotch, ”I thought him my friend. Although we had quarreled, I fancied the hatchet was buried. He made me your guardian, and I still believed he had died with nothing but friendly feelings toward me. But he knew you, and now I believe it was an act of malice toward me when he made me your guardian. And, to add to my sufferings, he decreed that I should travel with you. Asher Dow Merriwell deliberately plotted against my life! He knew the sort of a career you would lead me, and he died chuckling in contemplation of the misery and suffering you would inflict upon me! That man was a monster--an inhuman wretch!”
”Look there!” cried Barney, pointing toward the small, timbered island.
”What is it?”
”May Ould Nick floy away wid me av it ain't a house!”
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE HUT ON THE ISLAND.
”A house?”