The Boy Chums In The Forest Part 33

"Not a shot has been fired. The Indians have formed a circle around the island with their canoes just out of good gunshot and seem to be waiting."

"Let's all go down to the landing," proposed Charley, eagerly, as Walter concluded his account.

The others were as excited as Charley and readily agreed to the proposal.

They found the situation just as Walter had described, the little island with the band of convicts on it with the circle of canoes around it.

"They won't stand much show if the Indians attack them in earnest,"

observed the captain, "there ain't a bit of shelter on that island and it ain't hardly a foot above water."

As the little party gazed eagerly upon the scene, the next act in the grim tragedy occurred.

"Look," exclaimed Charley, "they didn't fasten their canoe and it is drifting away. They are so busy watching the Indians that they haven't noticed it yet."

A yell of dismay from the convicts soon told that they had discovered their loss. A few dashed down to the water as though they would plunge in after the drifting craft, but they evidently lacked the courage to face the bullets that would surely greet them if they ventured the act, for they stopped at the water's edge and soon returned to the breastworks of sand.

An Indian paddled out from the circle of canoes and securing the drifting craft, towed it back to the others.

"Just look," exclaimed Walter, "I wonder what the Seminoles mean by that move."

The others gazed eagerly with many exclamations of astonishment.

The circle of besieging canoes was breaking up, first one dropped out of the circle, then another, until the whole fleet had formed in one long, unbroken line. Paddles flashed in the water and the long line came sweeping gracefully on past the little island.

"You may hang me to the cross-trees, if they ain't agoin' to let them scoundrels go," cried the captain in disgust.

"It certainly looks like it," admitted Charley, sadly. "All they have to do is to swim to sh.o.r.e and make their way out on foot."

The big fleet came sweeping steadily on, headed directly for the landing where the little party stood.

An exultant yell burst from the convicts as they saw the dreaded attack so quickly abandoned.

A hundred yards from the landing, the fleet of canoes seemed to slacken speed, many of the Indians stopped paddling, and the long line was thrown into confusion.

An Indian in the leading canoe stood up and seemed to be haranguing the others.

"That's Little Tiger," said Walter eagerly, as he recognized the orator. "He's making a speech."

The hunters could, of course, make nothing of the speaker's words, but the tone of his voice told him that the young Indian was terribly in earnest. His clear, resonant voice seemed to now ring with despairing scorn, now sink to touching appeal.

"My, but he's a born orator!" exclaimed Charley in admiration. "It sounds as though he was las.h.i.+ng them up to some desperate undertaking."

The Indian at last ceased speaking and resuming his paddle sent his craft forward, his companions following in his wake.

He grounded his rude canoe at the hunters' feet and sprang out with the light, lithe leap of a panther.

"How," he said, gravely, extending his hand to each in turn.

The hunters shook the small, shapely hand with genuine pleasure. They were all struck by the change in the young Indian. In the short time since they had seen him last he had changed from a care-free stripling to a thoughtful chief whose word was law with his people. His manner had become grave and reserved, and there was about him an air of conscious power that well became his manly bearing.

He glanced from one to the other of the little party with keen eyes.

"It is well," he said, in his clear, musical voice. "All here, none missing, not even the little one with a face like night. The Little Tiger's heart was heavy with fear lest he should come too late. But neither the jackal's tribe nor the spirits of the night have harmed his friends."

"Did not the young chief fear to land on the island of the spirits?"

asked Charley with a smile.

The Indian drew himself up proudly. "Shall a Seminole fear to follow where the paleface dares to tread?" he demanded.

"Even the palefaces were filled with fear," said Charley, quickly, regretting his attempt at pleasantry, "but they found that they had been only children frightened at shadows. They have slain that which made the noises full of mystery."

"Does the young white chief speak with the tongue of truth?" asked the Seminole, eagerly.

"Even as he would be spoken to," answered Charley, gravely. "If the Little Tiger will come with his paleface friends, they will show him many wonderful things."

For a moment the young Indian hesitated, the fears bred in him by tradition struggling with his curiosity, but curiosity conquered.

Turning to his followers, who had all drawn in to the landing, he gave some sharp commands in his own language. They stepped ash.o.r.e with evident reluctance and there was considerable murmuring amongst them.

The chief looked them over with a scornful eye.

"Some of my warriors are not men, but squaws in men's clothing," he said, bitterly. "Their blood is like water in their veins with fear."

The murmuring Seminoles grew silent under their chief's scornful gaze, and when he moved forward with his white friends they followed closely in the rear.

On the way up to the wall, Charley explained to the young Indian about the bell and its nightly ringer.

The chief listened with relief and satisfaction on his face and quickly communicated the news in his own tongue to his followers. Immobile as were the Indians' faces, they could not conceal entirely their relief and pleasure at the explanation of what had been to them a life-long, fearful mystery.

Little Tiger was astonished when he saw the ancient road through the forest, and, at the sight of walls and buildings of stone, he exhibited a childish delight. "This is an island worthy of being the home of a great chief," he declared. "In the big wigwam of stone (the fort) the Little Tiger will rest in peace when not on the hunt, and the squaws shall make of this dirt of black, great fields of yams and waving corn.

It is good, that which the palefaces have done; how can their red brother reward them?"

"By lending them one of his warriors to guide them back to where their ponies and goods are waiting," answered Charley, promptly.

"It shall be done," said the chief, "though the hearts of their red brothers will be heavy at parting. Their hearts were filled with gladness with the hope that the palefaces would bide with them and take unto them squaws from among the Seminoles."

The captain was on the point of exploding with indignation at the thought of an Indian squaw, but Charley spoke up quickly.

"Little Tiger does his friends great honor, yet, though their hearts are heavy at the thought of parting, they must go." Charley glanced at the captain and added mischievously, "He with the gray hair on face and head has, without doubt, many squaws amongst his people whose hearts are longing for his return."

The old sailor glared at the speaker in speechless indignation.

"There cannot be too many hands to till the fields," observed the chief, gravely. "I will give him another squaw to take back with him to his wigwam."

Charley silenced the embarra.s.sed captain with a shake of his head.

"The chief is kind," he said, "but squaws are not as men, there would be great enmity and hair-pulling between the white squaws and the red, and when squaws quarrel the wigwam is sad for the warrior."

The chief nodded gravely. "The young white chief speaks truly," he said.