“I’m going to try to get some of the population work as well,” Hamilton explained.  “I think it will be even more fun than the manufactures end, and I heard that they’re going to put on a few population enumerators from those who have been on the manufactures work, admitting them without an exam.  I think the population census gathering will be fine.”

The other boy shook his head.

“I don’t think I’d want it,” he said, “at least not in a city, and I’m going to do the manufacturing work, of course, in a city.”

“Where are you going to be?” asked Hamilton.

“I took the exam in ’Frisco,” the older boy replied; “that’s my home town, and I expect to work out there.”

“That’s quite a walk from here!” exclaimed Hamilton.

“I had to come to Washington,” the boy answered “and so my people wanted me to go and see my sister down in Florida.  She married a fellow who’s busy reclaiming some swamp land down there, and he promised me a try at alligator hunting.”

“That sounds prime,” suggested Hamilton, “and I should think that in that reclamation work there would be lots of chance for it.  It would be worth watching, too, just to see how they got at that work.  I should think they would find themselves up against a pretty stiff job, engineering down in those swamps.  And then there must be barrels of snakes, too?”

[Illustration:  Alligator-catching.  The sport at its best; tackling a fair sized reptile with bare hands. (Courtesy of Outing Magazine.)]

“Water moccasins and copper-heads mostly,” said his friend cheerfully, “but you soon get so used to them that you don’t mind them.  It’s very seldom that you ever hear of any one being bitten by a snake.  They all seem more anxious to get out of your way than you out of theirs.”

“And you’re anxious enough, too!” remarked Hamilton.

“That’s pretty good security, don’t you think?” queried the older boy with a laugh.  “When both sides want to get away, there’s not much chance of a meeting.”

“But how about the alligators?”

“That was real good sport,” the other rejoined.  “But I kept down to the smaller chaps most of the time.  I don’t suppose there’s really very much danger, even in the big fellows, as long as you know just how to handle them.”

“I don’t think I’m particularly keen about handling them,” answered Hamilton.  “I shouldn’t think the big ones would want more than about one bite to put you out of business.”

“That’s all right,” the older boy admitted, “but what’s the use of giving one that chance?  Anyway, so I learned down there, it’s not so much the bite that the hunters are afraid of as the stroke of the tail.  It doesn’t take such a big alligator to break your leg like a pipestem with a sweep of that long, scaly tail of his.”

“But how do they catch them?”