flashing past, with the picturesque shore only a mile or so
away.

Finally Frank announced that he had discovered the island for which he
was aiming. They had made a splendid day's showing, and logged more than
thirty miles, against a head wind and sea.

Frank tried to follow the chart, but he knew he would have more or less
difficulty, for back of the key it was exceedingly shallow, and the
channel narrow.

Speed was reduced as they started to enter the open bayou. Jerry, up in
the bow, was using the pole as a sounding line, and calling out:

"Two feet! One and three-quarters! One and a half! Hey! Hold up, there!
We're on an oyster bar, for sure!" And the grating noise that immediately
followed told that they had lost the narrow channel again.

CHAPTER XVIII

TROUBLE

"Oysters! Yum! yum! Who said oysters?" cried Bluff, crawling forward to
look.

"Just jump overboard, and you'll get your fill--millions of 'em around!"
declared Jerry, prodding with his pole in an effort to release the bow
of the boat, but in vain.

"Hold on, there! Don't you do it!" cried Frank as Bluff gave indications
of being half inclined to betake himself to the water.

"Why not?" asked the hungry oyster fiend plaintively.

"Because you'll cut your shoes to ribbons on the sharp edges, and perhaps
your feet, in the bargain. Remember what you got before," said Frank.

So the impatient one refrained, but he cast many envious looks downward,
and a little later could have been seen stretched out on his stomach,
prying off bunches of the 'coon oysters with a knife, and enjoying a
little side treat.

It was easy to run upon the reef, but to get off was another matter,
especially with a falling tide. The motor churned the water, but at first
seemed to make no impression. Even when all the boys went aft, so as to
lighten the bow, there was no release.

"Something's holding her, I tell you! It may be one of those octopus fish
we hear so much about," suggested Will.

Jerry, who had been pulling on a pair of heavy old shoes, with the
intention of going overboard, so as to put his shoulder to the bow, and
lifting while the motor worked, looked a little dubious.

"Humbug! Can't be any such thing, eh, Frank?" he asked, turning to the
one in whose opinion he always felt the most implicit faith.

"What's holding her is that ridge of 'coon oysters. They grip like all
creation, Joe, here, says. Wait till I get some old shoes on, Jerry, an