Charley in the door of the hut eyed him curiously as he approached. "What has happened to you?" he exclaimed, "you look as happy as if you had discovered a gold mine."
"Well, I haven't," laughed his chum, "how's your leg now?"
"Stiff as a ramrod, and, whew, how it hurts," Charley said with a grimace of pain. "I can't bear my weight on it."
"You don't want to try to," said Walter, severely. "Just go back to your bunk and keep still. All the work is done, now, and I am going down to the landing right off to relieve Chris so that he can get a little sleep."
Charley obeyed and Walter made his way down to the landing where he found Chris sitting on a log watching intently.
Walter took the gun from the tired little darky and sent him up to the hut to rest.
The hours passed swiftly by without any signs of the outlaws. When darkness fell, Walter abandoned his now useless post and made his way up to the hut where he found his three companions gathered around the camp-fire outside.
"Have you seen anything of them?" Charley inquired anxiously as he came in sight. "Not a sign," Walter answered. "I think you have done wrong in lighting that fire," he continued gravely. "There was a bare chance that they would have given up the chase after not finding us at the chief's island. If they are anywhere near, though, that fire will give us dead away."
"They would not have given up the chance of getting the plumes they have worked so hard to obtain as easily as all that," said his chum decidedly. "Remember, they believe that Big Tiger and his son are still with us and that the rest of the Indians are far away. No, they would not have given up so easily after the trouble they have been to."
Walter said no more but helped himself to an ear of corn and a piece of fish and fell to eating.