ile canoe. Most of the afternoon was vainly spent in searching
for a camping site. They found a key where the water was shoal and
made a bed of poles and branches. Both of them chose to sleep on the
bed they had made. Whether this was simply politeness or because
both were afraid of rolling out of the canoe nobody else knows. The
poles and branches sagged under their weight until both were wet.
Then such a deluge of rain as is seldom seen outside of the tropics
fell on them. They got out in the dark and tied their canvas sheet
over the canoe. They didn't need it for themselves. They were
already as wet as they could be.

In the morning they dried themselves--so Dick said--by rolling into
the water and sloshing around. They made a cold lunch of smoked
bear, cold hominy, or grits as it is called in Florida, and water,
choosing to wait for breakfast until they should find land enough
for a fire. During the day they saw high trees to the eastward and
made for them. Here they found a Seminole camp of several families.

As they landed from their canoe they saw several pickaninnies, for
Seminole children are not called papooses like children in other
tribes of Indians, watching them from behind trees and boats. The
squaws whom they met were equally shy and kept their faces hidden.
Ned spoke to several of them, but they gave no sign that they even
heard him.

"They don't like your looks," said Dick. "Let me speak to the next
one."

The next one was a young girl and Dick was very confident, as he
addressed her, with his very best smile. But he was turned down as
badly as his chum, for the girl didn't see him at all. At the camp
they found one old Indian and several squaws. The Indian welcomed
them with a grunt and the question,

"_Whyome_ (whiskey), you got um?"

"_Whyome holowaugus_ (bad), no got um," replied Ned. The Indian
grunted again and conversation ceased. Dick was sitting on the edge
of the table which serves also as floor in a Seminole camp, when he
heard a low growl just over his head. He looked up and saw, crouched
on a shelf within four feet of him, a full-grown wild-cat, or bay
lynx, which seemed disposed to spring at him. Dick tried to keep
from showing how much he was scared, but he asked Ned to find out if
the wild-cat would bite. To Ned's question, the Indian nodded
emphatically and replied,

"Um, um, _unca, ojus_ (yes, heap)." Dick moved away, but the
creature fascinated him and he came back. Dick ne