Part 48 (1/2)

”Help!” he bellowed, after he had spurted another big stream of water from his mouth. ”Will you see me perish before your very eyes? Save me, Frank!”

But Frank was laughing so heartily that he could not say a word, and the little man went down once more.

”Hivins! he really manes to drown!” said Barney, in disgust.

”Grab him!” gasped Frank. ”Don't let him go down again. Oh, my! what a sc.r.a.pe! This beats our record!”

For the third time the professor's head appeared above the surface, and the professor's voice weakly called:

”Will no one save me? This is a plot to get me out of the way! Oh, Frank, Frank! I never thought this of you! Farewell! May you be happy when I am gone!”

”Stand up!” shouted Frank, seeing that the little man had actually resigned himself to drown. ”Get your feet under you. The water is shallow there.”

The professor stood up, and an expression of pain, surprise, and disgust settled on his face, as he thickly muttered:

”May I be kicked! And I've been under the water two-thirds of the time for the last hour! I've swallowed more than two barrels of this swamp-water, including, in all probability, a few dozen pollywogs, lizards, young alligators, and other delightful things! If the water wasn't so blamed dirty here, and I wasn't afraid of swallowing enough creatures to start an aquarium, I'd just lie down and refuse to make another effort to get up.”

Then he waded out, the look on his face causing Frank to double up with merriment, while even the wretched Barney smiled.

Barney would have waded out, but Frank said:

”Don't attempt to land without those guns, old man. They're somewhere on the bottom, and we want them.”

So Barney was forced to plunge under the surface and feel around till he had fished up the rifles and the shotgun.

Frank had taken care of his bow and arrows, the latter being in a quiver at his back, and the paddles had not floated away.

After a time, everything was recovered, the canoe was drawn out and tipped bottom upward, and the trio moved toward the cabin, Frank leading, and the professor staggering along behind.

Reaching the cabin, Frank rapped loudly on the door.

No answer.

Once more he knocked, and then, as there was no reply, he pushed the door open, and entered.

The cabin was not occupied by any living being, but a glance showed the trio that some one had been there not many hours before, for the embers of a fire still glowed dimly on the open hearth of flat stones.

There were two rooms, the door between them being open, so the little party could look into the second.

The first room seemed to be the princ.i.p.al room of the hut, while the other was a bedroom. They could see the bed through the open doorway.

There were chairs, a table, a couch, and other things, for the most part rude, home-made stuff, and still every piece showed that the person who constructed it had skill and taste.

Around the walls were hung various tin pans and dishes, all polished bright and clean.

What surprised them the most was the wire screens in the windows, a screen door that swung inward, and a mosquito-bar canopy over the bed and the couch.

”By Jove!” cried Frank; ”the person who lives here is prepared to protect himself against mosquitoes and black flies.”

”It would be impossible to live here in the summer,” gravely declared Professor Scotch, forgetting his own misery for the moment. ”The pests would drive a man crazy.”

”Oh, I don't know about that,” returned Frank. ”If a man knew how to defend himself against them he might get along all right. They can't be worse than the mosquitoes of Alaska in the warm months. Up there the Indians get along all right, even though mosquitoes have been known to kill a bear.”