At this moment a man was seen approaching. It was not he with the ostrich-plumes, though the latter appeared to have sent him.
As he drew near, I perceived that he carried a pistol. My hour was come. The man stooped over me, and placed the weapon close to my ear. To my astonishment he fired it into the air!
I thought he had missed me, and would try again. But this was not his purpose. He only wanted a light.
While the powder was ablaze, I caught a glance of the countenance. It was an Indian’s, but I thought I had seen it before; and from some expression the man made use of, he appeared to know me.
He passed quickly from me, and proceeded to the spot where Jake was held captive. The pistol must have had two barrels, for I saw him fire it again, stooping in the same manner over the prostrate form of the black. He then rose and called out:
“It is they—still alive.”
This information appeared meant for him of the black plumes, for the moment it was given he uttered some exclamation I did not comprehend, and then walked away.
His voice produced a singular impression upon me. I fancied it did not sound like Osceola’s!
We were kept upon the ground only for a few minutes longer, and then a number of horses were brought up. Upon two of these Jake and I were mounted, and fast tied to the saddles. A signal was then given, and, with an Indian riding on each side of us, we were carried off through the woods.