“theah was a pen on one side of the island that i hadn’t looked in because i thought it meant pigs. when i got to thinkin’, i knew it wasn’t pigs. so i went to have a look. did you evah heah of an alligatah twenty feet long?” asked tom.

“i don’t know anything about ’em,” responded bob. “but i thought fourteen feet was pretty fair for size.”

tom shook his head, and went on.

“that pen was round an’ about fo’ty feet across. before i got to it, i smelt musk, an’ i knew that meant alligatah. the pen was made o’ big pine posts set in the ground, and i could just peek ovah it. at first, i didn’t see anything in it, but foah posts right in the middle about six feet high, i reckon. on these posts, was a kind o’ little house like a dove cote—without sides to it—and a roof o’ palmetto leaves. that’s wheah it was.”

“where what was?” broke in the spellbound bob.

“that spanish helmet,” answered tom proudly. “o’ course, i couldn’t see very well, but i’ve seen pictuahs o’ them, and you can’t mistake ’em—round like a boilin’ pot with holes fo’ the eyes and a thing that drops down ovah the mouth.”

“didn’t you examine it?” interrupted romantic bob. “that very bit of armor may have been worn by one of de soto’s soldiers. some gallant knight—”

“did i examine it?” repeated tom. “listen. the bottom o’ that pen was smooth and hard as a floor. opposite wheah i stood theah was a runway, just like the big pen, extendin’ right down to the canal. ‘that’s the royal entrance fo’ the king o’ the alligatahs, the god o’ the secret city o’ the seminoles,’ i said to myself. ‘he must be on a vacation to-day,’ i says. so i began makin’ snap shots o’ his temple or palace. then i had a sudden, creepy feelin’. an’ at the same time, i knew the musk i had been smellin’ seemed mighty close. i had a kind o’ hunch to look ovah the fence. before i finished that look, i was back up among the shacks with my hair a rattlin’. that old booger was a layin’ just undah the fence, two feet o’ where i stood.”

bob shivered and looked around. they were yet in alligator land.

“i began to think i’d leave,” went on tom, attempting to smile. “i couldn’t get the helmet, an’ theah wasn’t a thing on the shacks worth carryin’ away. so i took a few moah pictuahs an’ one bow and a bundle o’ arrows an’ stahted fo’ my boat. well,” and he looked up as if bob had guessed, “it was gone. theah i was. somehow i didn’t just realize what it all meant, at first. i kind o’ thought theah was some way out. but in five minutes, i found i was as completely stranded as if i had been on a real island miles at sea.

“you’d come back, o’ course. but yo’ couldn’t get down in that ‘well’ with the anclote if yo’ knew wheah i was. i had twenty minutes left before yo’ were due at the garden hill. i want to say i did some tall thinkin’. if i could cross the canal, but what then? theah wasn’t a foot o’ solid land this side o’ wheah you were to pick me up. i couldn’t wade the canal. i found that out polein’ up. besides, theah were too many things in the watah to make it worth while.

“ten minutes went by.” bob sighed sympathetically. “then i saw that tree. i don’t know[262] how i came to think of it. but the minute i did, i realized it was the only thing i could do. i didn’t know whethah i had the nerve, but i decided i’d go ahead ’til i weakened. so i took out my films, rolled ’em tight in my handkerchief and stuck ’em inside my shirt. then i made a present o’ the camera and my coat, revolver and shoes to the runaway citizens, an’—”

“so you could climb?” suggested bob.

“so i could swim,” explained tom.

“swim?” exclaimed bob. “in that whirl pool o’ alligators and snakes?”

tom shrugged his shoulders. “what else could i do? theah was no bridge and the tree was ovah in the swamp.”

“i’d have died first,” said bob stoutly.

“you would not. you’d a done just what i did. anyway, i picked up all the loose bits o’ wood and small objects i could find and rushed at it. i had to rush. i knew you were gettin’ mighty close. i yelled, threw chunks an’ things in the watah ’til i hoped my wriggly friends would have somethin’ else to think about. then i took a runnin’ dive, an’ splashin’ an’ yellin’ like mad, i got theah.”

bob’s sigh was almost a groan.

“after that,” concluded tom, “it was easy[263] enough. that is, after i got to the tree. i was in marsh water nearly to my ahms, but when i got hold o’ the hangin’ limbs and got a start on the tree, i felt so good that climbin’ wasn’t much. i stahted on a small tree leanin’ against the big one, an’ when i got where i could shin, i went up like a monkey. you know the rest, as well as i do. an’ now,” said the somewhat wobbly southern boy, “i’ve had enough o’ this part o’ the everglades. when yo’ all is ready, i am. the camp on anclote island and the old three sistahs are good enough fo’ me.”

“but you’re goin’ to write about it, just the same,” announced the proud bob.

“yes,” said tom slowly, “but you can bet i wouldn’t go it again, even if i knew it would make me a real authah.”

it was nearly two o’clock when the anclote went skimming along crystal lake and once more took to the air on its homeward flight. with no further incentive to speed, the two boys took a leisurely flight, and it was half past five o’clock when mac’s welcome flag marking the camp fluttered beneath the descending airship.

early the next morning, the “anclote” was dismantled, stowed away in the hold of captain[264] joe’s three sisters, and camp was struck. all the members of the club had determined to return to pensacola with captain joe, except bob. he was carried across to the mainland to make the train from tarpon springs to tampa, where he would rejoin his mother.

after a lingering farewell, he sprang from the schooner.

“boys,” he called back, “we’ve had a crackin’ fine time since i knew you, and i hope you’re not sorry you elected me a member of the club.”

“you’re the next president, if you come south next year,” answered tom promptly.

bob shook his head, but he flushed with pleasure as he did it.

“i ain’t got nothin’ to say, bob,” spoke up mac. “you’ve had your revenge on me good and plenty.”

“an’ i done fo’give yo’ dat black pirate business,” added jerry blossom, his white teeth showing.

“i didn’t mean that,” exclaimed bob. “i only wanted to say that, in spite of the salvage we got and jerry’s treasure box, i found something i needed more.”

his companions looked at him wonderingly.

“i came here coughing blood and i’m goin’ home a new boy. i’ve found health, and you fellows helped me find it.”

as the schooner fell off and started on her long cruise across the gulf, bob picked up his suitcase and started for the town.

“i wonder,” he thought to himself, “what father would have said if he had seen tom allen balanced on that rotten tree top.”

the next book in “the aeroplane boys” series has to do with lands across the seas. in a daring flight by airship to the famed and fascinating bahama islands, two boys solve an old mystery. the story is told in “a cruise in the sky” or, “the legend of the great pink pearl.”