CHAPTER IX.
THE BEES AND THE BEAR.
Walter's first feeling was of horror and indignation, mingled with frank admiration for the cleverness with which Charley had reasoned the matter out to its logical conclusion.
"You have got a great head on you, old chap," he said, affectionately. "It certainly seems as though you have hit the nail on the head this time. I understand, now, why their leader was so anxious to have us move away. They expect to encounter the Indians somewhere in this neighborhood and they do not want any witnesses. What shall we do, Charley?"
"We are in an unpleasant fix," said his chum, musingly. "The only safe thing to do, I guess, is to take that convict's advice and move away at once. If we interfere with their plans or even let on that we know what they are, it will mean fight, with us outnumbered three to one."
"But we can't leave here and let those fiends ambush and murder those unsuspecting Indians," said Walter indignantly.
"Certainly not," said his chum, heartily. "But we must be prepared to take some risks. We can't fight that crowd in the open, they are too many for us. We'll have to outwit them and put the Indians on their guard without letting the convicts suspect that we have had a finger in the pie. It would be an easy trick to turn if it were not for that renegade Indian with them. I guess there isn't anything much that escapes those black, beady eyes of his."
"You have a plan then?" said Walter eagerly.
"One, such as it is. You see, we are between those fellows over there and the Everglades. A party of savages coming from the Glades would have to pass us before coming in rifle range of the convicts' camp. Now we could halt them here and explain matters, but that would give us dead away to the enemy."
Walter's face fell. "They would be sure to catch on," he admitted.