Part 33 (1/2)

”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.