"They deserved death, but the death they met was too awful for any human being," Charley murmured.
"I wonder what became of Indian Charley," said Walter. "He was not with the others."
Their guide's quick ears had caught the question. "He tied to tree in swamp for mosquitoes to eat," he volunteered pleasantly.
"I think," remarked Charley, after a long pause, "I think I would rather be a Seminole's friend than his enemy."
"Aye, lad," agreed the captain, "they are savages still in their loves and hates."
The Seminole guide led them out of the Everglades by a short cut, and the hunters sighed with relief when the great swamp was left behind.
For two days they traveled while daylight lasted, making camp at night on some convenient point. On the morning of the third day they reached their old camp where their things were buried. Here they went into camp again while the Seminole scoured the woods for their ponies. He returned triumphant the second day riding one of the horses and driving the others. The animals were sleek and fat from rich feeding and long inactivity.
The hunters made their guide presents of a couple of clasp knives and a revolver with its ammunition and sent him away delighted.
"I wanted to wait until we got home to give you a big surprise, but I can't keep it concealed any longer," said Walter regretfully, as his companions began to take the canoes apart preparatory to stowing them in the packs.
While the others gazed at him in surprise, he drew out a bundle from under the thwart of one of the canoes. Undoing it he took out a long feathery plume.