Part 34 (1/2)

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

THE SEMINOLES.

The conversation on the part of the hunters had so far been conducted by Charley. Walter had remained silent, busily thinking over the wrongs that had been done them by the convicts. He could not forget the still, cold form in the hut that had been robbed of life by the murderers' bullets. He was not usually a vindictive boy, but, as he thought of Ritter's n.o.ble act and sudden death, his pa.s.sion steadily grew and at last he turned scornfully to the young chief.

”Little Tiger speaks with the tongue of a man, but his deeds are those of a squaw,” he declared, bitterly. ”Are he and his braves afraid of the murderers of his people and the slayers of his father that they leave them to escape in peace and safety?”

”They will not escape,” said the young Indian, his face darkening with anger at the savage taunt. ”A man's death for a man, but jackals shall die like jackals. With hearts of terror and blood turned to water in their fear, they shall die a death more horrible than the palefaces can give them.”

”You have offended him, Walter,” said Charley, as the young savage walked proudly away. ”Why couldn't you be more patient? I have felt all along that he had some plan for dealing with the convicts.”

”I suppose I have put my foot in it,” said Walter regretfully, ”but it's no use crying about it now.”

The Indians were already lighting fires and preparing breakfast, but the hunters had a task before them which they felt they must perform before they could touch food, and they immediately set about it.

In the shade of a majestic live oak, they dug a deep grave and in it laid to rest the body of the unfortunate Ritter. Their eyes were moist as the earth covered the remains of the young hero.

Little Tiger rose to meet them as they approached the group of Indians.

Walter walked up to him with outstretched hand. ”I am sorry for my angry, foolish words,” he said. ”When sorrow bears heavy on the heart, the tongue grows bitter.”

The young Seminole grasped the offered hand with evident pleasure.

”Even squaws forgive and forget, and a warrior should be n.o.bler than a squaw,” he said, sagely. ”The palefaces shall be seated and share the food of their red brothers.”

The hunters would gladly have declined, but could not well do so without giving offense, so they seated themselves in the circle surrounding the steaming kettle containing the food and with inward qualms partook lightly of the stew.

There was a kettle to every fifteen Indians, and their manner of eating left much to be desired. Spoons and forks they had none, but they solved the problem by dipping their hands into the pot and fis.h.i.+ng out the portions desired. With true courtesy, the guests were given the first dip into the pot.

As they ate, the hunters had an opportunity to study their hosts more carefully than they had yet done.

They were all splendid specimens of savage manhood. Not one was less than six feet tall, and each was shaped and muscled like an athlete.

All wore the usual Seminole dress, a long s.h.i.+rt belted in at the waist, moccasins, and turbans of tightly wound red handkerchiefs. They were extremely neat and cleanly in appearance, a virtue not common with Indian tribes.

There were a few squaws among the company, but they did not tempt a second glance. They were wooden-faced, slovenly-looking creatures almost disgusting in appearance. They were loaded with string upon string of colored beads forming a solid ma.s.s, like a huge collar, from the point of their chins down to their chests.

”Which one have you picked out for your own, Captain?” whispered Charley. ”That big one over there seems to have her eye upon you.”

The old sailor flushed with embarra.s.sment. ”Look out or they'll have you,” he cautioned fearfully, ”I kinder feel that big one has singled me out, an' I don't want to encourage her none.”

The Indians seemed to regard the day as a holiday to celebrate the laying out of the spirits and the adding of a large fertile island to their domain.

The morning was given over to feasting and to running, jumping and wrestling matches. Only the young Indians indulged in these contests, the warriors sitting gravely looking on.

Our young hunters tried their strength and skill with the Indian lads, but, although they were stronger and more nimble than most boys of their age, they found that they were no match for the young Seminoles.

While the boys were enjoying the contests, the captain sat moodily apart, keeping a worried eye upon the squaws.

With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Charley drew aside one of the Seminole lads, whom he had found could speak English, and whispered eagerly to him.

The Indian lad's bright, beady eyes twinkled as he listened, and, when Charley concluded, he nodded his head and slipped away into the group around the fire.