of need could be made to enclose the entire vessel.

This modern craft was tied up against the bank of one of those narrow
but swift streams that, having their source in southern Georgia or
Alabama, find their way to the Gulf of Mexico, after passing through
many miles of Florida cypress swamps that are next to unknown territory
to the outside world.

Phil Lancing was the son of a well-to-do Northern physician, who had
some time previously come into possession of a very large tract of
territory in Northern Florida. Considerable of this property was in
vast swamps; and here squatters had settled many years back, cutting
the trees at their pleasure, and making vast quantities of cypress
shingles, which were floated down the river to markets along the gulf.

The second occupant of the brave launch Aurora was a rather chubby
specimen of a half grown lad, with a rosy face, and laughing blue eyes.
Larry Densmore expected to become a lawyer some fine day, and in
evidence of his fitness for the business he was constantly asking
questions, and finding debatable points in such matters as naturally
came up.

Phil being an amateur naturalist, knew considerable about the woods and
their numerous denizens. Larry was an utter greenhorn, and apt many
times to display his gross ignorance concerning the habits of game; as
well as the thousand and one things a woodsman is supposed to be
acquainted with. But his good-nature was really without limit; and one
could hardly ever get provoked with Larry, even when he committed the
most stupendous of blunders.

Upon hearing these consoling words from his chum, Larry, who was
sitting well up in the bow of the boat, yawned and stretched himself.
The southern sun was inclined to be warm, and Larry had not slept very
well the two nights he had been aboard the motor boat. But then it was
nothing very singular to see the chubby lad yawning at any time of the
day.

"I'm real glad we've got all our supplies aboard," he said, aloud, just
to pass the time away, and to keep awake while Phil was fussing with
the engine preparatory to starting on their trip down-stream. "I'm
tired of this dead little village that they call a town. And tired of
hearing what an awful lot of trouble we're bound to buck up against
when we get two-thirds of the way down to the gulf. Wonder what they'd
say if they knew your dad owned most all of that property along this
crazy old creek they call a river. And that yo