In a few moments they crept through the rushes till the canoe lay close to a bank, and the Indian directed Frank to get out.
The camp-fire could not be seen from that position, but the boy well knew it was not far away.
Taking his bow, with the quiver of arrows slung to his back, the lad left the canoe, being followed immediately by the Seminole, who lifted the prow of the frail craft out upon the bank, and then led the way.
Passing round a thick mass of reeds, they soon reached a position where they could see the camp-fire and the moving forms of the sailors. Just as they reached this position, Leslie Gage was seen to dash up to the fire and kick the burning brands in various directions.
"He has done that so that the firelight might not reveal them to us," thought Frank. "They still believe us near, although they know not where we are."
Crouching and creeping, Socato led the way, and Frank followed closely, wondering what scheme the Indian could have in his head, yet trusting everything to his sagacity.
In a short time they were near enough to hear the conversation of the bewildered and alarmed sailors. The men were certain a band of savages were close at hand, for they did not dream that the arrow which had dropped Jaggers was fired by the hand of a white person.
"The sooner we get away from here, the better it will be for us," declared Leslie Gage.
"We'll have to get away in the boats," said a grizzled villainous-looking, one-eyed old sailor, who was known as Ben Bowsprit.
"Fo' de Lawd's sake!" gasped the third sailor, who was a negro, called Black Tom; "how's we gwine to run right out dar whar de critter am dat fired de arrer inter Jack Jaggers?"