"I have hunted a good deal, and a fellow can't help but learn a few things if he is long in the woods," said Charley, modestly, "but I've never been so far into the interior before. I wish, Walt," he continued gravely, "that there was someone along with us that knew the country we are going to better than I, or else that we were safely back in town once more."
"Why?" demanded Walter in astonishment.
"I dread the responsibility, and," lowering his voice so the others could not hear, "I have seen something I do not like."
"What?" queried his chum, eagerly.
Charley produced a square plug of black chewing tobacco from his pocket. "I picked that up in the edge of the clearing this morning," he explained. "It wasn't even damp, so it must have been dropped after the dew settled last night."
"Some lone hunter passed by in the night," suggested Walter, cheerfully.
"I wish I could think so," said Charley anxiously. "But you know as well as I that there are some gangs of lawless men in Florida, gathered from all quarters of the globe, and, Walter," lowering his voice to a whisper, "I saw signs that there was more than one man near our camp last night."
"What kind of signs?" his chum demanded.
"Broken bushes, the marks of horses' hoofs, and a dozen other little things of no importance when considered separately."
"A fig for your signs, you old croaker," laughed Walter, "you'll be seeing ghosts next. I didn't see any of the signs you talk about. Besides, if anyone had wished to do us harm they could have done so without hindrance last night."