He could be heard muttering as he went—
“Wants to see dis chile, does he? Why, dat looks good for de old nigger; and, who knows, but what de long time am a coming to an end, and all dis old nigger’s work is gwine to be done for him by odder folk. He, he! dat would make dis chile bust a laffin! He, he, he!”
Chapter Seven.
The Two Chiefs.
Our story now takes us fifty miles inland from Tampa Bay.
The spot on the edge of an everglade.
The hour noon.
The dramatis personae two Indians.