“Can I buy or hire a skiff, here?”

“You can do a lot better.  One of your Northern tourists left a little beauty of a canoe with me, to be sold first chance I got.  It cost seventy dollars, delivered here, and you can have it for twenty.  It’s only fifteen feet long and about two feet wide amidships, but it weighs only forty pounds and when there isn’t water enough for the canoe to carry you, why, you can carry the canoe.  Then a few little traps go with it which you may find useful.  There’s a broken fly-rod, which you can fix all right, and a little single-barrel shot-gun, not worth much, but you can always pick up a supper with it.  There are also a pair of grains, a light harpoon, and a cast-net which is torn some, but Johnny can fix it.  Johnny’s got a rifle and all the camp kit two tough boys will need.

“Better take a piece of light, waterproofed canvas big enough to keep off some of the rain when it storms, an axe, a bag of salt to save the hides of the alligators you will be sure to kill if Johnny goes with you, and some grits and bacon.  Oh! you may need a mosquito-bar, and if you do want it you’re likely to want it bad.  Make it of cheese-cloth; that’ll keep out sand-flies, too.  Some of my folks will run it up on the machine for you in a few minutes.  There may be some other little things that you’ll need, but you can trust Johnny to think of ’em.  Now, Dick, you don’t have to pay for any of these things till you get good and ready.  I’m used to giving long credits and this time I’m glad to do it.”

“Oh, Mr. Streeter, you don’t know how grateful I am to you for all you are doing for me.  The money is the least part of it and I can fix that all right.  You wouldn’t think I was a capitalist to look at me, would you?” said Dick, laughingly.  “Since I left home I’ve rolled up quite a fortune as a fireman and a sponger and I can pay my little bills and have money to burn besides.  How soon do you think we can get off?”

“You ought to start to-morrow.  You can get ready in an hour.  Know anything about canoeing?”

“Not much, but I’ve rowed some in a shell.”

“That’ll help you a little, but it leaves you something to learn.  The man whose canoe you have bought was cruising down here with his family and he told me that every time one of ’em stepped in that canoe he went overboard.  He said he had to choose between the canoe and his family and had concluded to let the canoe go.  One of my boys owns a little Indian canoe in which Johnny and he have poled around a good deal, so I reckon Johnny can keep inside of your canoe, but you’d better spend the forenoon to-morrow practicing in it with a paddle, then you can get off right after dinner and your clothes will be dry before you make camp at night.”

“Does Johnny know the course we ought to take from here?”