MY young friends Jim and Joe Allison are emphatic in declaring that they will never, never forget their adventure in Florida last summer. When you come to learn the particulars, I am sure you will take the same view of it that they do.

Jim and Joe are brothers, the first sixteen and the second fourteen years old. Last autumn they came to the north to attend school, and perhaps some of the readers of boys’ papers have made their acquaintance. If so, you will agree with me that they are bright, manly fellows, who, if their lives are spared, will become useful and popular citizens.

The father of the Allison boys was an officer of the Confederacy. With the wreck of a once handsome fortune, he went back to his old home in Florida, after the close of the war. He was still a young man, and had been fortunate enough to go through the whole “unpleasantness” without a scratch. He married an estimable lady from the north, who, in addition to her many fine qualities, had the not objectionable one of considerable wealth. So it came about that Colonel Allison bought a fine orange plantation in the land of flowers, and it was there that his daughter and two sons were born.

Like the boys of the south and west, Jim and Joe were accustomed to horses, guns and roughing it from earliest boyhood, though rather curiously neither of them could swim a stroke. They spent many an hour in the pulseless pine forests, in the oozy swamps and the dry barrens, finding enjoyment and sport where you and I would see nothing but wretchedness.

Only a few weeks before they went to the north they engaged in the memorable hunt of which I am going to tell you. Suspecting that it would be the last one they would be able to have together for a long time (for they were busy with their preparations for leaving home), they agreed to make it a thorough one so far as it was in their power to do so.

They told their parents not to be anxious if they saw nothing of them for two or three days, for they meant to go a long distance up the St. John’s and had resolved not to come back until they had obtained some experience worth the telling.

An hour later the boys had entered their dugout, in which they put up a sail, and with a mild but favoring breeze they moved at a fair rate up the river, which is probably the most widely known of any in Florida. They were provided with a substantial lunch, for though professional sportsmen might have scorned to make a provision that implied their own lack of skill, the brothers had no compunctions in the matter.

There was nothing in the woods that could take the place of Dinah’s corn cake, nor was there any game which the boys could prepare by the camp fire to be compared to the cold roast chicken which the same skillful cook took such pains to make ready for them. So, in going this long hunt, the boys did not mean to place any dependence on their guns for food.

It was quite early in the morning when they started. The St. John’s, with its shores sometimes wooded, and often low and marshy, wound in and out through the forest, but the current was sluggish, and it was not a difficult task to paddle the light dugout.

Now and than the youths took a shot at some of the game of which they caught a glimpse along the shore. It was not yet noon when they met a steamer, whose sputtering wheel at the stern churned the water into muddy foam, and whose deck was filled with excursionists. Many of these waved their handkerchiefs at the boys, who returned the salute.

By and by Jim remarked that if they meant to have a genuine old-fashioned hunt, they would have to leave the main river, where they met too many people. So they turned up the next tributary they saw.

Jim used the paddle until tired, and then Joe did the same. By this time it was high noon, and observing a small island ahead they agreed to make a landing there and take lunch. They could have done this just as well in the boat, but they had been in their cramped posture so long that they wanted to “stretch their legs.”

The island on which they landed was a small one, being no more than a hundred feet in length, and its widest portion was less than half of that. The middle was perhaps three or four feet above the level of the water, so that the patch of land resembled one of those patent door mats, which, being raised in the center, shed all the water that falls upon them.

There was not a particle of vegetation on the island—not so much even as a spear of grass. There were a few twigs and bits of limbs that had floated down and lodged against the upper point, but altogether there was not an armful.

It was of no concern to the boys that they found this strip of sand so uninviting, for they did not mean to stay there more than an hour or two at the most. The sun was hot, and they would have enjoyed the luxury of stretching beneath some shady tree; but since that was out of the question they did not bemoan it. The umbrella which they had brought answered very well as a substitute. Its long handle was jammed into the sand near the middle of the island, and its shade almost sheltered their bodies.

Protected in this fashion, they brought forth their big lunch basket, and fell to with an appetite such as I trust all of you possess.

In making their way to the camping site, as it may be called, Jim Allison carried the umbrella and lunch basket. More from habit than anything else Joe brought the rifles with him. He did not dream that any necessity would arise for their use, but had some idea that he might lie under the shade of his umbrella, and pick off something in the river or along shore.

The division of the stream, produced originally by the sandy bar or island, caused the curving water to wear away the main shores on either side, until the river at that portion took upon itself the character of a lake or lagoon. From the island to either bank was a distance of fully two hundred yards, so that it would have taken good marksmanship on the part of the boys to bring down anything on the main land.

One peculiarity had been noted by both. The region seemed to be a favorite one with alligators. They could be seen basking in the sun along the banks, with here and there a snout moving lazily over the water in quest of prey. They were not liable to disturb the boys so long as they remained in the dugout, but if by some chance they should be capsized among a school of them, it might have gone ill with our young friends.

“I think,” remarked Jim, speaking as well as he could with his mouth full of corn cake, “that after ascending a few miles further we’ll land and take to the woods.”

“Not a bad idea,” spluttered Joe, from behind the cold chicken that threatened to suffocate him; “we can build a fire and sleep in the woods to-night; then we’ll have all day to-morrow for the hunt, and can go home the next day.”

“Yes; there isn’t much in this sort of business; we must have a time that we can tell the boys about when we go up north.”

Just then the speaker happened to look down stream, and noticed a boat that appeared to be approaching.

“Who can that be?” he asked in astonishment.

“My gracious!” gasped Joe, leaping to his feet, “it is our dugout!”

Such was the fact. They had left it drawn up so slightly on the shingle, that it had swung loose, and was already a hundred feet below the island.

The astounded lads looked in each other’s face, speechless for a full minute. Well might they ask themselves what should be done, for you will bear in mind that neither of them knew how to swim, that they were in a lonely region where they could not be certain of any person passing for days or weeks, and that there was nothing on the island from which anything in the nature of a raft or float could be constructed.

The boys were plucky, and had either one of them known how to swim, he could have helped the other to the main land, and they would have considered the adventure of a nature that need cause little misgiving. They concluded that the only thing to be done was to fire their guns and shout, in the faint hope of attracting the attention of some one within call.

Accordingly, they discharged their rifles, and yelled and whistled until the sun sank in the west, but without the slightest evidence of success.

As the day advanced, the alligators showed more signs of life. They swam back and forth in the river, and at one or two points a number engaged in a fierce fight, causing no little splashing and turmoil in the water. Occasionally one of them would run his hideous snout against the island, but they did nothing more than stare at the youngsters, when they whirled about and swam into deep water again.

While the brothers had no special fear of these huge reptiles, they were not without misgiving, for they well knew that they occasionally attacked persons. They kept close watch, therefore, and it was well that they did.

Just as the sun was sinking, and while the river glowed with the yellow, horizontal rays, they were startled by the approach of the largest alligator on which they had ever looked. They did not see him until he was close to the island, and indeed in the act of leaving the water and coming toward them. He was fully eighteen feet long, and there could be no doubt that he meant to attack the boys. His size, age, and appetite, would not permit him to stop at trifles.

“I’ll take the right eye,” said Jim.

“And I the left,” said Joe in an undertone.

The boys had cast aside their umbrella, and kneeling on one knee they took careful aim at the monster. Like the patriots at Bunker Hill, they waited until they saw the whites of the enemy’s eyes, and then they fired together.

The distance was short, and the aim so true, that either bullet would have proved fatal. As it was, the alligator, with a horrible whiffing snort, swung spasmodically about, clawed the sand into showers, and then died, as any creature must whose brain has been bored through by two leaden pellets.

That was a dismal night to Jim and Joe. They feared that the other reptiles would come upon the island to attack the slain monarch, in which case they were likely to give some unpleasant attention to the boys. But fortunately the saurians did not do so, and when the sun rose in the morning, matters may be said to have been in statu quo.

The main suffering of the boys was for water. They had brought a bottle with them, but that was exhausted on the first day, and they waited until they were extremely thirsty before drinking from the muddy current that swept sluggishly by.

By noon, they began to feel serious alarm. They had used up nearly all their ammunition, and had shouted and yelled till their heads ached and their voices were husky. There were no more signs of any one else being in the solitude than there would have been in the middle of Sahara.

Disconsolate Joe was leaning on his elbow under the shade of the umbrella, wondering how many days it would be before their parents would miss them, how many weeks before the party of search would set out, and how many months before their remains would be found bleaching upon the sandy island—that is, provided the alligators did not make a feast upon them.

He happened to be looking at the huge carcass of the reptile, when he noticed that beneath the flaming heat it was distended to double its natural size. It was a frightful looking sight indeed.

“Jim,” said he, turning to his brother, “that carcass is swollen enough to float like a cork.”

“Let’s try it then,” said he, brightening up; “the other alligators are asleep, and it’s the best hour out of the twenty-four.”

Inspired by the new thought, they ran to the bloated mass and made the attempt to get it into the water. It was an exhausting task, and they could not have moved it far, but by great labor they succeeded in swinging it into the current. It proved to be wonderfully buoyant, and when the boys perched themselves upon the back their combined weight did not sink it more than half under water.

Their hearts throbbed fast when they found themselves at last floating with the current. They were not without dread that the scent of the carcass would bring others to the spot, but the voyage of the singular boat was so quiet that the siesta of the other alligators was not disturbed. They floated down stream until, at a bend in the river, they swung so close to land that they saw the water was shallow; and springing off they waded ashore.

Jim and Joe discovered nothing of their dugout, and were obliged to make their way down to the St. John’s, where they were fortunate enough to hail a passing steamer, which landed them near their home.