"Willy looks different from a
regular Indian; but they're all alike. He loosened up to get this
piece of plug; now he 'dunno' anything."
"Donno," repeated Willy monotonously.
As the dugout scraped and stuck on the bottom the Indian doffed his
overalls and displayed the full gorgeousness of the Seminole dress
shirt. Payne wondered how in the souls of these swamp dwellers there
had developed a taste for a hue as delicate as the pink of the
flamingo. Bands of red, yellow, scarlet, mauve and black were
embroidered upon the cloth, and upon the shoulders were scarlet tufts
resembling epaulets. Willy stepped overboard, barefooted and nude save
for his rolled up shirt, and began to shove. A three-foot water
moccasin lay coiled on a mud bank in his path and the Indian's bare
foot flung it aside as one might kick away a stick. Presently he
paused, deep in liquid mud to his thighs, his feet working on something
below.
"_Alpate_," he said. "'Gator."
A commotion followed in the mud; a dark knob appeared above water.
There was a thrashing and upheaval and the Indian threw a half-grown
alligator upon the bank and dispatched it with a blow from his camp ax.
A few rods farther on the canoe was over the shallows and floating
easily in a flooded jungle of saw grass which stretched away as far as
the eye could reach.
Pages:
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73