“Well, I am a dummy,” exclaimed Lathrop, considerably vexed that he had not puzzled the problem out for himself, “but I don’t see how that puts us any further—in fact it makes it more inexplicable for the Indians, through that rascal Quatty, promised us that they would not molest the camp and yet, if your theory is the right one, they have carried off one of the most valuable members of our party.”
“Hum,” said Billy and scratched his head, “there’s one thing, however,” he said consolingly, “they can’t mean him any real harm or else they would probably have killed him right here.”
“Maybe they are cannibals and mean to eat him,” suggested Lathrop.
“He’d be a pretty tough morsel,” laughed Billy, “but don’t worry about that, Lathrop, the Seminoles are not cannibals and from all I hear are pretty good sort of people, as Indians go. I have got a sort of an inkling that we shall hear from Ben before very long in some way or another.”
“I hope so,” said Lathrop and then—there being nothing else to do—they paddled back to the camp. It was then past noon and after waiting for some word from the boys for an hour or more their two comrades determined to call them up and acquaint them with what had happened.
Patiently Lathrop operated the Golden Eagle’s call for half-an-hour or more.
“What’s the matter?” asked Billy, seeing a troubled look on the boy’s face.
“I don’t understand it,” responded the other boy, “I can’t raise them.”
“Keep on trying,” urged Billy.
But it was no good, there was no answer from the Golden Eagle for a reason that our readers know. At the time that Lathrop was shooting his urgent summons into space the boys were lying in the stocks on Captain Bellman’s island.