Part 33 (2/2)

”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.

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