ed to be a
real sportsman he must never fire at birds with a shotgun unless
they were flying. So he waited until the ducks rose before firing at
them. The next instant a bird fell heavily on the water a few yards
ahead of the canoe.

"Why, that bird fell out of this tree!" said the astonished Dick. "I
didn't know you fired up in a tree."

"I didn't," replied Johnny. "That was a water-turkey, and he isn't
hurt a bit. They often act so when they're scared. Watch out for him
under the bank."

In a minute or two Dick saw a long, snake-like head and neck thrust
out of the water by the bank. The head twisted about with a quick,
jerky motion till the bird's eyes rested on the canoe, when it
disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.

"What became of the ducks?" said Dick.

"Reckon we'll find one of 'em 'round that p'int. The other got
away." Johnny was right, and the duck was found just around the
point.

At some places the river narrowed into deep creeks and at others
broadened out into wide, shallow bays, where the boys were puzzled
to find the inlet they wanted. It was nearly noon when they struck a
stream of quite a different sort from anything they had previously
seen. Its mouth lay between banks that were high for Florida, and
through it flowed a stream of crystal-clear water, which, to the
great relief and delight of the boys, was fresh as a mountain brook
The bed of the stream looked like sand to Dick, but when he thumped
it with his paddle he found it was coral rock. Suddenly Johnny
called to him:

"Watch out fur the boat," and resting his hands on the sides of the
craft leaped into the water without disturbing in the least the
balance of the canoe.

As Johnny swam rapidly under water, close to the white coral bottom
of the creek, Dick saw that he was chasing a turtle which was
skurrying toward the bank for protection. It got there all right,
but the bank didn't protect it, and soon Johnny came to the surface
hugging to his breast with his left hand a wildly flapping turtle,
while with his right he struck out for the canoe. Getting into the
canoe would have been a ticklish job, so Johnny handed the turtle to
his companion and swam to the bank while Dick followed with the
canoe. By the time Johnny had butchered the turtle, Dick had
constructed a very creditable camp-fire under a palmetto, in the
shade of which the boys rested while they waited for the turtle stew
to be ready for them. Their breakfast had