"Me too, Massa," grinned Chris, who was plucky enough when he understood the nature of the threatened danger. "Golly, I jest reckon dis nigger got to stay and look out for you chillens."
The captain, whose only concern had been for the boys, brought his hand down on his knee earnestly. "Then I'm with you, lads, till the last mast carries away. You're the pilot in these waters, Charley. What course shall we steer now, lad?"
"I think," suggested Charley, modestly, "that the first thing is to fix up a shelter in case of rain. We must be careful, and if we come into contact with any of those fellows we must not let them see that we suspect what they are. That would cause trouble right away, I am sure."
"Go ahead and give your orders, lad; we will carry them out."
"Then I'll deputize Chris to see if he can't get us some fresh fish," said Charley with a smile.
Chris, his face beaming, darted away to his saddlebags after his fishing-tackle. If there was one thing the little darky liked above all others it was fishing, and wherever he might be, his tackle was never far away.
As soon as he had departed, Charley, accompanied by the others, set about selecting a site for their permanent camp.
"You see," Charley explained, "we want a place that we can stand a show of defending if we should be attacked, and at the same time a place from which we can escape by water if we have to."
They did not have to go far before they found the very place they were hunting for, a long, narrow, scantily grassed point that penetrated through the marsh far out into the river.
"It's just the thing," Charley declared. "We will lead the ponies out to the end and then fell a few pines across the neck here. That will form a kind of a fence and keep them from straying away. There's grass enough on the point to keep them busy for a week at least."