"We haven't said so," said Charley quickly.
The ruffian favored him with an appraising leer. "Don't have to say so," he drawled, "if you ain't, what have you-alls got them dinky little canoes for, an' if you were after 'gators you'd be packing big rifles 'stead of them fancy guns. You ain't got no call to deny it, for I was aiming to give you a bit of neighborly advice."
"What is it?" inquired Walter curiously.
"That it ain't no use for you-alls to stop here. The Injuns have got this section combed out clean. You couldn't get enough plumes around here to pay for your bacon. Now, I knows of a tidy little island 'bout twelve miles south of here where there's stacks of the birds. If you start right now you'll hit it before them pesky varmints of redskins find it. I'm telling you in pay for that tobacco. Max Hilliard ain't the kind of man to take nothing without paying for it," he concluded, grandly.
"Them Indians don't seem to be bringing many plumes into town," said the captain.
"'Cause why? 'Cause they have to turn the bulk of what they get over to their chiefs for tribute, an' them varmints are getting so foxy they just hoards 'em up. They know the price is goin' up right along. Oh, them pesky varmints are getting cunning these days. But come, boys, we must be getting back to camp."
The reinvigorated gang of cut-throats arose and with awkward, surly thanks stamped away.
Their leader lingered behind for a moment. "Better pack right up and get out for that island right now, partners," he advised. "Thar's a gang of Injins coming down the river day after to-morrow, an' they'll be sure to clean it out." His voice grew low and menacing. "Anyway, you fellows want to get out of here afore day after to-morrow."
Before any of the hunters could question him, he was gone.
"He seems set on our leaving here," said Walter, anxiously.