Swift too," observed Larry. "Gosh, you mean this heah is tidewater?" queried Red. "It must be. Friday said it was salt water." "Friday, go alonga see how deep mud," said Sterl. Ankle-deep the black waded some rods out, and then began to sink in deeper and deeper until he was over his knees. "Even with the tide in full the mob would have to wade a bit, at least close to shore," observed Larry, seriously. "And the wagons. What a job to cross them here!" "Righto. But it can be done," averred Red. "We'd cut poles and brush to make a road. Thet channel buffaloes me, though. What say, Sterl?" "Boys, without the menace of crocodiles, which Friday mentioned, we'd have a killing job here. Larry, how big do these Gulf crocodiles grow?" "Up to twenty-five feet, I've heard. They can break a man's leg with one whack of their tails." "Red, how will we get the girls across?" "Aw, thet's a slicker. I was thinkin' about it. If we only had a boat! Mebbe we could build a raft. In a pinch we might use the bed of our wagon.
