"You're on an island about two miles inside the Everglades, as near as I can calculate."
"Did you build this shelter since you have been here?" asked Charley eagerly.
A shade of sadness passed over the captain's open face. "No," he said slowly, "this island belonged to the chief an' this wigwam was where he lived, an' it was here we brought him to die."
"To die?" echoed both boys together.
"Aye, lads, he passed away the same day we reached here," said the captain, sadly. "He was a white man clean through, if his color was red. I got to know him powerful well on the trip here, an' he sure had all of a white man's feelings."
The boys remained silent in face of the captain's evident grief, and the old sailor, after a pause, continued. "We buried him under a big oak tree, with his gun and plenty of food by his side, just as he had directed, an' I reckon his spirit is up in his happy hunting-grounds now."
"And the young chief, his son, what has become of him?" Walter asked after a pause.
"Gone to gather his people together an' swoop down with them on the murderin' convicts. He found out from signs, that I couldn't make nothin' of, that his tribe had divided into two parties, one going towards a hunting-ground called Big Cypress, an' the other to another place where deer an' bear are thick. As soon as the chief was buried, he jumps into his dugout an' starts to round 'em up. If he gets back with them in time to catch them outlaws, may the Lord have mercy on their murderin' sin-stained souls, for the young chap will have 'em slowly tortured to death if he catches them."
"Tell us all about your trip," Walter urged, "how did we get separated, I wonder?"
"It puzzled me for a bit as to what had become of you, but the chief soon explained it by saying that you likely had taken another stream. Chris an' I was for turnin' back an' huntin' you, but the chief reasoned us out of it, by saying that you might have taken any one of a dozen forks and that there would be mighty little chance of our hitting on the right one, while we would be almost sure to run right into the convicts' hands again. But what influenced us most, was his explainin' that all streams thereabout ran into, or from, the Everglades, an' that all we had to do was to get here first and keep a sharp lookout along the cypress for you, and you'd soon show up. The chief had great confidence in your good sense, Charley, an' seemed to feel certain that you would reason that the only safe thing to do was to keep right on up the stream you had taken. 'Course, we never suspected that you had been shot."