"Don't try to move," exclaimed Charley, hurrying to his side.
"How," said the sufferer, in greeting, extending a hand surprisingly small and well-formed for a man of his size.
Charley gave it a hearty shake and his companions crowding around, gravely followed his example.
The wounded man lay silent for a moment surveying the little party with shrewd, appraising eyes. A friendly gleam shone in his beady orbs as they lingered for a second on the captain's kindly, weather-beaten face. He looked a trifle longer at Walter's eager, open countenance, but his glance came back to rest on Charley's face, and to him his words were addressed.
"He, whom his people call the Big Tiger, was made as weak as a tiny papoose by the bullet of a jackal," he began in broken English. "The Little tiger has told me all; how the jackals would have taken their prey but for your coming in the canoe of cloth and bringing the helpless ones here. The jackals' bullet has sped true, and the Big Tiger will lead his followers no more in the hunt, but the son of a chief will remain and his life will be at the young white chieftain's command."
The stricken man burst into a fit of coughing, and Charley noted with pity that flecks of scarlet stained the sufferer's lips. "Shot through the lungs," he decided, but he allowed no trace of pity to show on his face.
"A chief of the Seminoles must be wise with the wisdom of the owl in council," he said, as soon as the fit of coughing had left its victim. "Payment from father or son we desire not, only the counsel of wisdom now. We are but braves in the hunt or fight, and great danger threatens, now, but the ripe wisdom of a great chief may be able to point out a path to safety."
Clearly and in few words, he described their present desperate position and the demands and threats of the outlaws.
The Indian listened in impassive silence and for some time after Charley finished, remained buried in profound meditation.
"The young white chief carries an old head on young shoulders," at last he said approvingly. "He speaks truly when he says that the air is thick with danger. When the blackness of night comes, then will come, also, those who make war from behind the trees of the forest. In the darkness, how is the young white and his friends to tell enemies from friends? The jackals will wriggle through and over the wall of trees like snakes through tall grass. After what they have seen, can my white friends expect mercy at hands already stained red?"