In truth the Indian had appeared barely in time to rescue Frank from the vine, and it had been a desperate and exhausting battle. In another minute the vine would have accomplished its work.
"I hear white boy cry out, and I see him run from this way," explained the Seminole. "He look scared very much. Sailor men follow, and then I come to see what scare them so. I find you."
"It was Providence, Socato. You knew how to fight the vine—how to cut it with your knife, and so you saved me."
"We must git 'way from here soon as can," declared the Indian. "Bad white men may not come back, and they may come back. They may want to see what has happen to white boy."
Frank knew this was true, but for some time he was not able to get upon his feet and walk. At length the Indian assisted him, and, leaning on Socato's shoulder, he made his way along.
Avoiding the place where the sailors were camped, the Seminole proceeded directly to the spot where his canoe was hidden. Frank got in, and Socato took the paddle, sending the light craft skimming over the water.
Straight to the strange hut where Frank and his companions had stopped the previous night they made their way.
The sun was shining into the heart of the great Dismal Swamp, and Elsie Bellwood was at the door to greet Frank Merriwell.