Charley made his way out to the Indian camp, where the Spaniards and the Americans were already gathered. The squaws were breaking up camp, while Willie John sat in one of the wagons holding the dead lad in his arms.
"Willie John, Willie John," said Charley brokenly. "We never thought anything like this would happen. We never dreamed those fiends would fire on you or the lad."
"Me understand," said the Seminole without emotion. "You no to blame. Bad pale-faces in wood did it."
"We will see that they are punished for it, Willie John," Charley promised, with tears in his eyes. "We will do all in our power to bring them to justice."
"Me understand," said the Seminole, and added simply as he gazed down at the lad in his arms: "Him was good boy. Him no smoke, no drink wyomee. Him save every little bit of money he get so by and bye him go to school all the same as pale-face boy. Him was very good boy."
The boys watched the lumbering, slow moving wagons out of sight with unashamed tears in their eyes. Then Charley turned to the machine men. "Rake out your fire and make everything snug on the machine," he said quietly. "There will be no more work for there will be no more wood."
When the machine men, their task done, had gathered with the others at the camp, the lad addressed them again.
"You have all seen what has happened to-day," he said quietly. "A bright, innocent, harmless child murdered simply because he was working for us. We hardly deserve the name of human if we do nothing to avenge his death. It is getting too near night to do anything to-day, but I am going to call for volunteers to go with me to-morrow morning to either capture his murderers or wipe them out of existence. Who will go with me?"
His chums and the two engineers stepped promptly to his side, and the Spaniards followed one by one.
"Good," said the lad, with a sad smile. "We will start at daylight."