There were numerous abrupt bends to the river just below the Florida town, and with that swift current it was difficult to navigate around these places successfully.  By degrees, of course, Frank expected to become more familiar with both the engine and the only way these things could be successfully met.  He was always wide-awake, and eager to learn.

Jerry had perched himself on the forward rail, where he could survey the scenery.  Will had his camera in his hand, and seemed ready to snap off any remarkable picture that presented itself to his vision.  He was keen on taking some views that would embrace the weird, hanging Spanish moss, though Frank told him to have patience, and any number of these would come in time.

There was not the least warning when the shock came.  The boat suddenly brought up with a bang on some hidden snag, and as Frank involuntarily shut off the power he had a rapid view of poor Jerry taking a header over the rail.  Immediately after, a tremendous splash announced that he had struck the water all right; indeed, as he sprawled with hands and legs outstretched, one would half suspect it was a gigantic frog that leaped from the boat into the deep river.

CHAPTER V

THE FIRST CAMPFIRE

“Tell me about that, will you!” gasped Jerry, as he bobbed above the surface.

He was swimming industriously to keep from being swept down with the current.

Frank, finding that the motor worked smoothly, and no damage had been done by the concussion, started it backing just enough to keep the boat steady.

He darted to the bow, where Bluff and Will were already hanging.

“What was it?” called the swimmer, who, now that he was in, seemed disposed to make a picnic of the affair, after his usual joking way.

“A snag, of course.  I thought you were going to sing out if we came on one?” said Frank.

“I did, and you all heard me yell,” asserted Jerry.

“Yes, while you were passing through the air.  Much good that would do,” observed Bluff, disposed to refuse such evidence.

“But there was nothing in sight.  The snag must have been down under the surface, and the water is so brown I couldn’t see it.  My! but that was a vault!  Talk about your high divers, there never was a prettier leap than that.”

“Just my luck, again!” whimpered Will.  “What a magnificent picture of the Jumping Frog that would have made in our scrap-book.  Why on earth didn’t you tell me you were going to do it, and I could have been ready to snap you off?”

“Hear that man, with me down in this ooze, soaked to the skin!  Wait till I find a chance to get at him!” groaned Jerry, shaking his fist upward, in mock anger, though at the time he was grinning amiably.

“While you are down there, pard, why not take a look, and see if we scraped the paint off the boat’s nose when we banged that log,” suggested practical Frank.