“Heah’s yuh ’gator over on the bank, suh.  He must have crawled out to die, a most unusual thing for the varmints to do, as they generally sink like a rock, tuh stay down fo’ several days!” he called out.

Then the posse vanished on the fresh trail of the desperado.

“I rather think they’ll get Bob,” ventured Frank.  “That sheriff is a determined man, and he’s enlisted in this hunt for keeps.  How about going over to view the remains, Bluff?” he asked as he pulled the dinghy in.

“That’s just what I was about to propose.  My first ’gator, so perhaps I’d like to get his hide, if possible, or some of his teeth, anyway,” returned the other, getting into the small boat with Frank.

Sure enough, they found a dead alligator up on the bank.  The load of shot, fired at such a short distance, must have gone pretty much like a bullet.  Some of them had entered his protuberant eyes, and by accident must have pierced his brain.

“A lucky shot, all right.  I don’t believe it could ever happen again, especially when the one who fired was almost behind the ’gator,” commented Frank.

“How big is he?” asked the one who had slain the reptile.

“I should say all of ten feet, perhaps even eleven.  They seldom grow bigger than twelve down here, I’m told, so this one is something of a whopper.  If the alligator man I talked with at Coney Island a year ago told the truth, then this one must be several hundred years old.”

“Whew!  Perhaps he saw Columbus land!” suggested Bluff humorously, for he could not quite believe any such tale.

He concluded merely to knock out a tooth or two, to remember the event, but when Will heard about it he insisted on being ferried over so as to get a picture of their first Florida ’gator, with the proud Bluff standing beside it, to prove its length.

They got under way about eight o’clock.

Just at that time Jerry said he heard some distant shooting.  It seemed to come from the direction the sheriff and his party had gone, so they wondered if they could have come up with the fugitive Bob, and whether those shots had any reference to the two hounds.

“I think the fellow must have been armed, and unless his gun became useless after his bath last night, his first care would be to shoot down the dogs, so as to cut off pursuit,” ventured Frank.

They afterward learned, however, by making inquiries, that the sheriff got his man, wounded, and that Bob later on paid the penalty of his crime.

By noon that day they came to a sawmill, where a party of convicts, under guard, were making cypress shingles.  Our boys did not put in, for the sight was anything but pleasing to them; although Will did think it wise to get a picture of the camp, so as to add variety to his collection.

About three o’clock they suddenly came to a little town.  Here they stopped only a brief time, Frank going ashore to post some letters and purchase a few things he had on his list.