Without a word the young Indian sprang to Rene's side, drew the little sharp-pointed dagger from its sheath, and firmly but deliberately enlarged with it the minute wound made by the fangs of the snake, until the blood flowed freely from it; then raising the hand to his own mouth, he sucked all that was possible of the poisoned blood from the wound, stopping several times during the operation to rinse his mouth with water.

When this was done he took a handful of slimy river mud and placed it over the wounded place, bidding his friend hold it there. Then, seizing his paddle, he turned the bow of the canoe up-stream in the direction from which they had come. He paddled back to a small lagoon that emptied into the stream, and in which he had noticed a peculiar species of water-lily growing as they passed it on their way down. Pulling a handful of these up by the roots, he selected one of the bulbs attached to them, pounded it until it was a mass of fibre, and washing the river mud from the wounded hand, he replaced it with this.

The hand had already swollen and become very painful, but the application of the bruised lily-root acted so like a charm that Rene's face showed an instant sense of relief, and he expressed his gratitude to Has-se.

"It is nothing to do," replied the other. "It is but the remedy of my people for such things." Then he added, with a sort of pride,

"The pale-faces are wise in many matters that we poor red men know nothing of; but we have at least learned that for every evil there is a remedy close at hand, and that wherever poisonous serpents are found there also grows a plant that will render their poison harmless. In a short time thy hand will be as sound as before it laid hold of Chitta-wewa, the great water-snake."

"Tis marvellous!" exclaimed Rene; "and if thou wouldst return with me to France, bringing with thee a few of these samples and thy knowledge of their application, thou wouldst become a great medicine-man and obtain much honor of my people."

Has-se only shook his head and smiled at this suggestion; then he said,

"For a time thou must lie perfectly quiet, and keep that upon thy hand wet with cool water. Meantime I will carry out a plan of which I have just conceived the idea. Near by, from the head of this lagoon, there runs a narrow trail by which a great bend in the stream is cut off, and a point much lower down upon it is reached. If thou wilt remain here and nurse thy hand, I will cross to the lower stream by this trail; and it may be that I will thus gain more speedy information concerning those whom we follow."

Rene at once agreed to this plan, and was soon left alone to nurse his hand and meditate upon his present strange position. From his savage surroundings his thoughts ran back to the uncle whom he had left in Fort Caroline to battle with sickness, and possibly with starvation and the upbraidings of his own men. The boy's heart was full of tenderness for the brave old soldier who had so promptly assumed the part of a father towards him; and had he not been restrained by the consciousness of the vital importance of the mission he had undertaken, he would have been inclined to return at once and share whatever trials were besetting the chevalier. From him the boy's thoughts sped to France and the old chateau in which he was born. He almost laughed aloud as he imagined the look of consternation with which old Francois would regard him if he could now see him, lying alone in a fragile craft, such as the old servant had never imagined, in the midst of a terrible wilderness of great moss-hung trees, queer-looking plants, black waters, and blacker mud.

From these reveries he was suddenly startled by the sound of a slight splash in the water and a subdued human voice. Raising his head very cautiously above the side of the canoe, Rene caught a glimpse, at the mouth of the little lagoon in which his own craft was concealed, of another canoe, in which were seated two Indians. It was headed up-stream, but its occupants had paused in their paddling, and from their gestures were evidently considering the exploration of the very place in which he lay hidden from them. In one of them Rene recognized the unwelcome face of Chitta the Snake, but the other he had never before seen.

With a loudly beating heart and almost without breathing he watched them, thankful enough for the shelter of broad lily-leaves that raised their green barrier in front of him. He was fully conscious that upon the result of the conversation the two were holding, in such low tones that he could not distinguish a word, depended his own fate. He knew, from what Has-se had told him, that Chitta regarded him as an enemy, and he knew also that for his enemies an Indian reserves but one fate, and will kill them if he can.

Thus it was with the feeling that he had escaped a mortal peril, and with a long-drawn sigh of relief, that he saw the discussion come to an end, and the strange canoe continue on its course up-stream. It disappeared in the direction from which he and Has-se had come before encountering the moccasin. Then he became feverishly impatient to leave a place that seemed so full of danger, and he longed eagerly for Has-se's return.

Although Rene watched anxiously for Has-se, he also cast frequent glances towards the stream, fearful lest Chitta and his companion should again appear. Thus he was not looking when his friend emerged from the forest, and did not hear the light tread of his moccasined feet. Nor was he aware of any presence near him, until a low laugh, which so startled him that he almost upset the canoe, gave the first hint of his friend's return.

"Oh, Has-se!" he exclaimed, in a whisper rendered hoarse by his excitement, "glad am I to see thee once more. Chitta is in pursuit of us, and with him is as evil-looking an Indian as ever I saw, but large and powerful withal."

Then he related the whole incident of the appearance of the strange canoe, to which Has-se listened with grave attention.

When Rene had finished he said, "Has-se also has something to tell. Far down the river, on the side opposite the end of the trail, he heard the sound of many voices, and he knows his people are there. Let us go to them."

"But if we venture out into the stream, will not Chitta and the one with him see us?"

"If they do not until we float on the river, they must prove themselves swifter than Hu-la-lah" (the wind) "to catch us before we reach friends. How is thy hand? Is the sting of Chitta-wewa still painful?"

"Oh! my hand? Why, no; I had no thought of it until now. Thanks to thy application, the pain and the swelling seem alike to have been removed."

"Then let us go, and if it comes to meeting Chitta, we will see if we cannot render his sting as harmless as that of his namesake Chitta-wewa."

Very cautiously the two boys paddled their canoe out from the lagoon, and headed it down the narrow river towards the place where they hoped to find friends.

Having reached the stream in safety, they were about to congratulate each other on their good-fortune, when suddenly a wild scream, such as is made by an enraged panther, came ringing down through the dark forest glade behind them.

"It is the yell of Cat-sha the Tiger, chief of the Seminoles!" cried Has-se. "For the Snake, with the Tiger to aid him, we are no match. If those white arms of thine have strength in them, now is the time to prove it, Ta-lah-lo-ko."

With this the two boys bent over their paddles, and plied them with such energy that their light craft fairly hissed through the water, and flew past the gray, motionless columns of the cypresses. Not far behind came their pursuers, also straining every muscle, and already exulting over the prize that was so nearly within their grasp.

Cat-sha and Chitta had become impatient of waiting in their ambush for those who failed to come, but who they knew had been following them, and they finally decided to cautiously retrace their course in order to learn, what had become of them. At the mouth of the lagoon in which Rene had awaited Has-se's return they paused, undecided, for a moment. From the very trail taken by Has-se there branched another, which led to the distant Seminole fastness in the heart of the great swamp. Cat-sha at first thought they would do well to examine this trail; for if it should prove to be some of his own band of whose canoe he had caught a glimpse, he would surely discover traces of them here. Chitta, however, said that those who had followed them might chance to pass on unnoticed while they were in the lagoon. It would be time enough to examine the trail after they had been back as far as the bayou, and made certain that nobody was between them and it. Happily for Rene de Veaux, this counsel had prevailed, and they had gone on up the stream.

It was while on their return from the bayou that they had caught sight of the two boys just leaving the lagoon, and that Cat-sha had uttered his war-cry with such startling effect.

Even at the distance they were, both he and Chitta had seen the Flamingo Feather braided in Has-se's hair, and had also recognized the peculiar costume worn by him whom they knew as the son of the great white chief.

Faster and faster flew the two canoes in their race of life or death down the narrow stream. That of the two boys was the lighter, but the other, impelled by the powerful strokes of the gigantic Cat-sha, kept pace with it from the outset, and at length began slowly to gain upon it. Foot by foot, closer and closer, it came, and as the labored breath of the panting boys came shorter and quicker, while the perspiration rolled in great beads from their faces, it seemed as though they were moving at a snail's pace, and they knew that the unequal struggle could not last much longer.

Suddenly Has-se paused from his labor for an instant, and placing a hand to his mouth, uttered a long, tremulous cry, so wild and shrill that it roused the forest echoes for miles around.

He had hardly resumed his paddle, after a quick backward glance that showed the other canoe to be fearfully near them, when his cry was answered by one precisely similar, uttered only a short distance ahead of them.

In another minute an arrow from behind whizzed so close to Has-se's head that it cut the red feather from his hair, and passing on, it buried itself in Rene's shoulder. At the same instant a canoe filled with Micco's warriors appeared around a point ahead of them, and the two hunted and exhausted boys, seeing it, knew they were saved.



CHAPTER X

MUTINY AT FORT CAROLINE

During the progress of the exciting events related in the preceding chapters, troublous times had come to Fort Caroline, on the banks of the Great River of May. Above it hung the three black clouds of starvation, mutiny, and war.

Before the sudden departure of Rene de Veaux on his journey in search of food, a party of ten men had been sent out by Laudonniere to explore the country to the south of the fort, and discover, if possible, the mountains of gold that were supposed to exist there. For more than a month they had traversed broad sand barrens, crossed deep rivers, and been lost in the mazes of dark swamps. They had discovered rare birds of gorgeous plumage, strange and beautiful flowers, and many wild animals whose nature was unknown to them, but no trace of the gold of which they were in search.

Keenly disappointed, ragged, sick, and hungry, they at length came to a village of Indians who had never seen nor heard of white men, and who fled at their approach. The famished soldiers rushed into the lodges, took whatever they could find to eat, and, building a fire, proceeded to cook for themselves a feast. While they were thus busy, their carelessly tended fire crept to one of the tinder-like palmetto lodges, and in a few minutes more the whole village was in flames.

From their hiding-places in the surrounding forest, the savages, witnessing what they supposed to be a wanton destruction of their property, discharged a cloud of arrows at the white men, by which one was killed and several were wounded. Flying from the place, the wretched soldiers started for Fort Caroline, followed by their unseen foes, from whom they did not escape until four more had paid with their lives for their carelessness. When, some days later, the five miserable survivors of this unfortunate expedition dragged themselves into Fort Caroline, it was only to bring the news of their failure to find gold, of the death of their comrades, and of the fact that they had stirred up all the Southern Indians to war upon the whites.

Laudonniere, who had taken Rene's departure keenly to heart, and who had grieved over the lad as though he were lost to him, had also suffered great anxiety on account of the scarcity of provisions within the fort. Now, added to these troubles, came these latest tidings of ill, and, as a result, the fever against which he was struggling overcame him, and he was confined to his bed.

To many within Fort Caroline the serious illness of their chief brought great sorrow; but others, seeing in it an opportunity for the carrying out of their own plans, rejoiced accordingly. These others were those who were dissatisfied with the present aspect of affairs, and despairing of a change for the better while remaining at Fort Caroline, were secretly planning a mutiny. Its object was to compel Laudonniere to abandon the fort and the New World, and to lead them back to France in a ship which they proposed to build from such materials as they had at hand.

The mutineers were headed by no less a person than Rene's old friend Simon, the armorer. He had always been inclined to grumble and growl, and his feelings had been deeply wounded by being arrested, confined in the guard-house for one day, and finally discharged (because of the necessity for his services), with a sharp reprimand from Laudonniere for having, though unconsciously, aided Rene's departure. The old growler had always secretly sided with the mutineers, and after this he openly took part with them, and soon became their leader.

It thus happened that as the good Le Moyne, who, during the illness of Laudonniere and most of the other officers, was acting as lieutenant in command of the fort, sat writing one morning, there came to him Simon, the armorer, followed by most of the garrison. The old soldier gave a military salute, which Le Moyne returned, and then he said,

"We have come, Master Le Moyne, these good men here and I, to make certain propositions that we desire should be laid before his Excellency the commandant."

"Well," said Le Moyne, in a tone of mild surprise, "have to them without further delay, and return quickly to thy duties."

"It may be," replied Simon, "that we will return not to them at all; at least not in the wise meant by thy use of the word. We are starving."

"Ye have not overmuch to eat, tis true," said Le Moyne; "but we hope for better things."

"We are dying of the fever."

"To a certain extent this is also true."

"We are threatened by an enemy."

"And have stout walls behind which to defend ourselves."

"We are abandoned and forgotten, and our bodies will rot in this place ere succor is sent us."

"Admiral Jean Ribault is never the man to abandon or forget those to whom he has promised succor," replied the artist, with a flush of color in his pale cheeks.

"This country yields no gold, and is unfitted for human residence."

"Yet Micco's people live and thrive here, and have a plenty of the best raised from its soil. As for gold, the mere fact that it has not yet been discovered proves nothing against its existence."

Without replying to this, Simon continued:

"These be our grievances, and to remedy them we pray his Excellency to allow us to construct here as speedily as may be a vessel such as will suffice to carry us back whence we came. We also pray that he will in person lead us from this evil place back to our own country, always supposing that his health permits."

The good Le Moyne was much disturbed by this bold proposal, and attempted to persuade the men to abandon their wild scheme and return to their duties, awaiting patiently meantime the arrival of the promised reinforcements from France. They insisted, however, that they would not take their leave of him without hearing from the commandant himself, and Le Moyne was finally forced to comply with their request, and deliver their message to Laudonniere.

Upon receiving a report of what had occurred, the chevalier was highly indignant; and but for the extreme weakness which the fever had laid upon him, he would have arisen and gone out to the mutineers. As this was impossible, he sent answer to them that he could not for a moment consider their proposal. He and they had been sent to take and hold possession of that country by their King, and here he should remain until he received other instructions from the same source. As for them, his orders were that they instantly resume their duties, and use all diligence in strengthening the fort, and preparing for an attack which might at any moment be made upon it by the savages from the south.

When Le Moyne returned to the soldiers with this answer, Simon, still acting as spokesman for the rest, said,

"Thy message from the commandant is much as we expected it would be, Master Le Moyne, and in return thou wilt kindly take to him word again that for the preservation of our lives we shall certainly exert ourselves to repel any attack that may be made against the fort. At the same time we shall as certainly take active measures to insure our own and his speedy departure from this unhappy country, in which we have thus far gained naught but ill."

With this speech, and once more giving Le Moyne a stiff military salute, the old soldier turned and marched away, followed by the rest of the mutineers.

As soon as he was once more alone, Le Moyne made his report to Laudonniere, and so excited did the sick man become on hearing it that his fever took a sudden turn for the worse, and he was soon raving deliriously, and calling upon Rene de Veaux not to desert him for his enemies the Indians.

Meantime matters proceeded so rapidly outside that the keel of a small vessel in which the mutineers hoped to cross the ocean to their own country was laid that very day, and the labor of collecting suitable material for ship-building was entered upon with the fierce energy of men who believed they were working to save their lives.

So actively did this work proceed that in less than a month the hull of the little vessel was completed, and she stood ready for launching.

At this time parties were out in several directions from the fort, some securing pitch from the pine forests for use upon the vessel, others searching the cypress swamps for suitable spars, and still others making unskilled efforts to secure a supply of game and fish for present use, and for salting down to provision their ship during her proposed voyage. These last were the most unsuccessful of all who were out, owing to their limited knowledge of wood-craft. They were at the same time the most anxious to succeed in their quest; for the supply of corn in the fort was now wholly exhausted, and the garrison was subsisting almost entirely upon fish and the leaf buds of the cabbage palm, which they had discovered how to prepare.

On the day that marked a month from the date of Rene de Veaux's departure, the working parties whose duties took them into the forest were suddenly attacked by great numbers of savages, and driven in the greatest confusion back to the fort, after sustaining severe losses in killed and wounded. The advance of the savages, who followed them closely, even up to the very gates, was only checked by a heavy fire of artillery, which so alarmed them that they fled in a panic to the shelter of the forest, nor stopped until they had retreated to a most respectful distance.

Towards evening a body of the enemy were seen gathered in plain view on and about the great shell mound upon which the Feast of Ripe Corn had been held some weeks before. The sight of them so enraged Simon, the armorer, who was now generally recognized as commandant, that he determined to sally forth at the head of a strong party and bring about a decisive battle, which he had no doubt would result in a victory for the whites.

Although he could muster but about fifty able-bodied men, so sadly had fever and lack of proper food ravaged the garrison, the old soldier, who held the fighting qualities of the savages in great contempt, deemed this number amply sufficient for his purpose, and marched forth confidently at their head. They met with no enemy until they had nearly reached the shell mound, and were preparing to charge upon the savages, who still remained gathered about it.

Suddenly the whites found themselves completely surrounded by a great number of Indians, who seemed to spring, as though by magic, from every bush and from behind every tree. So secretly had their approach been made that the first notice Simon and those with him had of the ambush into which they had fallen, was a vast discharge of arrows and spears into their ranks. These were accompanied by such blood-curdling yells that they affected the white men almost as fearfully as the roar of their own artillery had terrified the savages in the morning.

Rallying from their first panic, they made a desperate attempt to force their way back to the fort, and struggled like men who knew their lives were at stake. In spite, however, of their bravery and the terrible execution of their swords, they were being overpowered by numbers, and it seemed impossible that a single one of them should escape with his life.

As, completely exhausted by the terrible and unequal struggle, they were about giving way to despair, a most welcome and unexpected diversion was made in their favor. A great cry arose beyond the line of savages, and they were so suddenly and fiercely attacked in the rear by an unseen foe that they fled in the utmost terror in all directions.

Not even waiting to learn who had lent them this most timely aid, the soldiers hastened to regain the fort and seek shelter behind its ponderous gates.

As they did so, they heard, or thought they heard, from the depths of the forest, a clear voice crying, "France to the Rescue! France to the Rescue!" and they marvelled greatly thereat.



CHAPTER XI

RENE'S RETURN

When Rene de Veaux sank down in the bottom of the canoe, completely exhausted by his labors at the paddle, and by the pain of Chitta's arrow that quivered in his shoulder, he became almost unconscious, and only dimly realized that they had escaped from their cruel pursuers. Then he had a vague knowledge of being lifted from the canoe and borne away, very gently, he knew nor cared not whither, and then he seemed to fall asleep. When he again awoke to an interest in his surroundings, he felt that a soft hand was smoothing his brow, and the air was cooled by a delicious sweet-scented breeze. Opening his eyes, he saw bending over him, and fanning him with a fan woven of fragrant grasses, Has-se's beautiful sister Nethla.

As he attempted to rise she gently restrained him, and bidding him lie still for a moment, she left the lodge. Directly afterwards she returned, accompanied by Has-se, whose face was radiant with joy at seeing his friend once more, and finding him so much better than he had dared hope.

The Indian lad told Rene that those who came so promptly to their rescue upon hearing his call had stopped for a minute upon reaching them to learn who their pursuers were, and how many there were of them. Cat-sha and Chitta had taken instant advantage of this delay to paddle swiftly up-stream and disappear in the depths of the great swamp, where it was impossible to track them, and so had escaped.

The fortunate meeting between the boys and their friends was owing to a scarcity of provisions among Micco's followers, which had obliged them to remain in camp for two days, while the hunters went in pursuit of game to replenish the larder.

The next evening, thanks to the wonderful healing properties of the herbs applied by Nethla to his wound, Rene was able to recline on a soft couch of furs in front of the chief's lodge, near a great fire, and enjoy with the rest the feast of venison, wild turkey, and bear's meat that had been prepared to celebrate the successful return of the hunters.

As he lay there, thoroughly enjoying the feast and the novelty of the scene, Has-se came to him and placed in his hand the Flamingo Feather that had been cut from his hair on the day before by Chitta's arrow. As he did so he said, "This I give to thee, Ta-lah-lo-ko, as a token of friendship forever between us, and for thee to keep in memory of this day. It is a token such as may only be exchanged between chiefs or the sons of chiefs; and if at any time it shall be sent to me or any of my people in thy name, whatever request comes with it from thee must be granted even at the cost of life. Keep the emblem hidden, and wear it not, for that may only be done by the chiefs of my tribe, or those who are sons of chiefs."

As he took the precious feather, and thanked Has-se warmly for the gift and its assurance of friendship, Rene noted with surprise that attached to it was a slender gold chain fastening a golden pin of strange and exquisite make. It was by these that the feather had been confined in Has-se's hair, and it was the cutting of this chain by Chitta's arrow that had loosened it.

In answer to Rene's inquiries Has-se explained that these ornaments came from a distant country in the direction of the setting sun, where gold was like the sands on the shores of the great salt waters, and whence they had reached his tribe through the hands of many traders.[1]

At sunrise on the following morning the journey towards the land of the Alachuas was resumed, and Rene occupied with Nethla a canoe that was paddled by Has-se and Yah-chi-la-ne (the Eagle), Nethla's young warrior husband. The stream down which they floated soon left the great swamp and widened into a broad river, the high banks of which were covered with the most luxuriant vegetation and beautiful flowers. The Indians called it Withlacoochee, but the Spaniards afterwards changed its name to San Juanita (pronounced San Wawneeta), or Little St. John, from which in these days it has come to be known as the Suwanee.

The river contained great numbers of alligators, of which, when they went into camp, the Indians killed many, for the sake of the valuable oil that was to be extracted from the fat embedded in the joints of their tails.

On the second day after Rene and Has-se joined them the tribe reached the land of the Alachuas, a people speaking the same language with themselves, and bound to them by closest ties of friendship. It was a land of broad savannas, studded with groves of magnolia and oak trees, and abounding in springs of the purest water. The clear streams running from these great springs teemed with the finest fish, and the country watered by them was overrun with game of every variety. It was indeed a land of plenty, and from its peace-loving and hospitable dwellers the visitors from the far East received a warm welcome.

On the very day of their arrival they selected the site for the camp, which they expected to occupy for some months. It was in the midst of a grand oak grove, surrounding a crystal spring; and before sunset the slightly built lodges had sprung up as though by magic among its trees, the sparks from the camp-fires gleamed like myriads of fire-flies among the moss-hung branches, and the tribe was at home.

Rene de Veaux, as became his rank, was invited to occupy the lodge of Micco the chief, in which he shared the bear-skin couch of his friend the chief's son and Bow-bearer. Here, during the week that his wound took to heal completely, he rested as happily as though the world contained no cares or anxieties. He spent most of this time in adding to his knowledge of the Indian language, with which, with Has-se and the beautiful Nethla as teachers, he quickly became familiar. Thanks to the glowing descriptions of the power and glory of the white men given by his friends, Rene found himself treated with distinguished consideration by the Alachuas, who regarded him with the greatest interest and curiosity. He was always spoken of by them as the young white chief, and his slightest wishes were gratified as soon as he made them known.

At the end of a week Rene felt sufficiently strong and well to set about accomplishing the mission that had brought him to this pleasant country. Accordingly he sought an interview with the Alachua chief, and displayed before him the trinkets contained in the package that he had so carefully brought with him from Fort Caroline. As the chief gazed with delight and amazement at what he regarded as a most wonderful treasure, but what in reality was only a lot of knives, hatchets, mirrors, and fish-hooks, Rene explained to him the distress of the white men in Fort Caroline, caused by the destruction of their winter's supply of provisions. He then said that if the chief would, out of the abundance of the Alachuas, give him twelve canoe-loads of corn, and send warriors enough to conduct them in safety to the white man's fort on the great river of the East, he would give him the package of trinkets there displayed, and would promise, in the name of his uncle the great white chief, a package of equal size and value for each canoe-load of provisions delivered at the fort. He also pledged his word that the Alachua warriors who should escort the provisions should be kindly treated by the white men in Fort Caroline, and should be allowed to return at once to their own country.

After taking a day to consider this proposal, and to consult with his wise men concerning it, the Alachua chief agreed to accept it, and greatly to Rene's delight the gathering together of the twelve canoe-loads of corn was at once begun. No difficulty was experienced in procuring an escort for them, for all the young Alachua warriors who had not attended the Feast of Ripe Corn were anxious to visit Fort Caroline, and see for themselves the white men, and the great "thunder-bows," as the Indians named the cannon that stood in its embrasures.

Thus, within two weeks of the time of his arrival in the land of the Alachuas, Rene was ready to set forth on his return to Fort Caroline. With him were to go his friend Has-se, who had obtained a reluctant consent from Micco his father to take the journey, and fifty young Alachua warriors, under command of Yah-chi-la-ne, Has-se's brother-in-law.

The white lad had made many pleasant friendships among these simple people, and it was with feelings of sadness that he bade farewell to the beautiful Nethla, the grave and stately Micco, the good chief of the Alachuas, and many others who had been kind to him, and whom he feared he might never see again.

The little fleet of twenty canoes, twelve of which were heavily laden with corn, started on their long journey at daybreak of a still, cool morning, in the presence of the entire population of Micco's camp, and a great number of the Alachuas who had collected to see them off. In the leading canoe were Rene, Has-se, Yah-chi-la-ne, and a young warrior named Oli-catara (the Bear's Paw). As it shot from the bank, the entire assembly of Indians on shore shouted,

"Farewell, Ta-lah-lo-ko!"



"Farewell to the young white chief!"

"Do not forget us, Ta-lah-lo-ko."

These shouts sounded very pleasantly to Rene, for they showed that he had succeeded in gaining not only the respect but the affection of these kindly people, and he stood up and waved his cap to them until they were hidden from his sight by a bend in the river.

On this journey nothing worthy of note happened until the party had nearly passed through the great swamp, when some of the warriors detected signs that led them to suspect that another party, eastward bound, had passed that way shortly before. The greatest vigilance was now exercised, and every effort made to discover the nature of this party. For some time no further trace of them was found; but among the vast salt-marshes of the coast these efforts were crowned with success. Here two warriors who had been sent to the main-land to examine the vicinity of a fine spring of fresh water returned, and reported that they had found a recently abandoned camp. From unmistakable signs they knew that it had been occupied by a war-party of those Indian outlaws whom they called Seminoles.

This gave Rene great uneasiness, for he feared that since they had received Chitta into their ranks, he had told them of the distress of the garrison of Fort Caroline, and induced them to attempt an attack upon it.

Even as Rene had supposed, and only a day before he and the Alachuas reached that point, Chitta, together with the gigantic Cat-sha, and the band of outlaws whom they had joined in the great swamp, had passed that way. Their object was to surround Fort Caroline, and harass its weakened garrison by cutting off any stragglers who might venture beyond its walls, until they should have so reduced the number of its defenders that it would fall an easy prey into their hands.

Upon arriving in the vicinity of the fort, the Seminoles found there a strong war-party of angry savages from the South, who were also watching for an opportunity to make a successful attack upon it, and thus obtain satisfaction for the destruction of one of their villages by the white gold-hunters. With these savages the Seminoles joined forces, and Cat-sha, whose fame as a bold warrior had spread over the entire land, was given command of the little army thus formed.

When they made their attack and were driven back from the walls of the fort by the terrifying roar of its great guns, it was Cat-sha who planned the ambush that so nearly proved fatal to Simon, the armorer, and his men. So well had he contrived the movements of his savage forces that but for a sudden and unexpected attack from behind he would certainly have captured the fort.

Rene's anxiety for the safety of his countrymen, when he discovered that the Seminoles were moving towards the fort, caused him to urge upon Yah-chi-la-ne the need of all possible haste in the hope of overtaking them. The Alachuas were as anxious as he to come into contact with their Seminole enemies, and so rapidly did they travel that they finally entered the River of May in time to hear the thunder of guns from the fort when the first attack of the savages was repulsed.

Landing some distance below the fort, and leaving only a few warriors in charge of the canoes, the rest of the little band proceeded with the utmost caution up the river bank until they came in sight of the tall shell mound. Here they remained concealed, while scouts were sent out to discover the exact condition of affairs. Gliding with wonderful ease and silence amid the dense underbrush, these went, and, at the end of two hours returned. They had discovered Cat-sha's plan of an ambush, and reported that the white men were even then leaving the fort to attack the shell mound.

Then Yah-chi-la-ne ordered an advance, and dashed forward, with Rene and Has-se close beside him, and followed by his eager warriors. They reached the scene of the conflict just as the white soldiers were about to be overwhelmed by the swarming savages, and in time to pounce upon the rear of the astonished Seminoles; and scatter them like the forest leaves before a whirlwind.

It was while charging by Has-se's side in this, his first battle, that Rene de Veaux gave utterance to the cry of "France to the Rescue!" that had so amazed Simon, the armorer, and those with him who heard it.

[1]Has-se doubtless referred to Mexico, which was known by the Indians as "The Land of Gold."—K. M.



CHAPTER XII

ABANDONING THE FORT

Although the Seminoles and their newly made allies, the savages from the South, were thus put to flight by the timely arrival of the party that accompanied Rene de Veaux, it was only because of the surprise of the attack, and because they had no knowledge of the strength of these new enemies, which they believed to be much greater than it really was. It was certain that when they discovered how few those were who had thus surprised them, they would return with the chance of overwhelming the little party by mere numbers. Therefore Yah-chi-la-ne was anxious to deliver the twelve canoe-loads of corn to the fort, receive the promised reward, and depart for his own country that night if possible.

To accomplish this, he and his followers returned as speedily as they could to the place where their canoes had been left, and under cover of the darkness which came on about that time, moved silently as shadows up the river towards the fort. When they reached its vicinity a new difficulty presented itself. They feared to hail the sentries and demand admission lest they should be fired upon, and at the same time draw upon themselves an attack from the savages, who would thus discover their whereabouts.

While they remained undecided as to what plan they should adopt to gain an entrance to the fort, Has-se drew Rene to one side, and in a whisper said,

"Ta-lah-lo-ko, the time has come when I may share with thee the secret of my people. Since thy blood has flowed for my sake, and thou hast received the sacred Flamingo Feather, I am free to do so. First pledge thy word never to deliver this secret, even to those of thy own blood, and it shall be made known to thee."

Rene having satisfied Has-se that the secret should be kept, the latter continued:

"Know, then, oh my brother, that when my people aided thy people to build this fort of thine, they constructed secretly, and by Micco's own orders, a passage beneath one of its walls, by which they might at any time obtain access to the fort or escape from it, as they might desire. It was by this means that the Sunbeam left the fort when thy people would have held him prisoner within it. It was easy to force a form as slight as mine between the bars of the guard-house window, and once past them I was as free as at this moment."

Rene was greatly surprised at this disclosure of the weakness of the fort, and not a little troubled to learn of it. He asked Has-se if the existence of the passage were known to all of his people.

"No," said Has-se; "to not more than a score of them is the secret known, and they are bound to preserve it as they would their lives. Thou art the first besides them to whom it has been disclosed."

"Well," said Rene, "so long as the passage thou namest exists, we may as well make a use of it. Do thou show it to me, and I will enter the fort by means of it. Then will I seek my uncle and inform him of what has taken place. Thou and the rest shall wait at the water gate, and there deliver the provisions and receive the reward. After that thou and they are free to return to the land of the Alachuas; but, oh, Has-se!" he added, with a burst of sincere affection, "it grieves me sorely to part from thee, for thou art become to me dearer than a brother!"

Then the two returned to Yah-chi-la-ne, who had been somewhat troubled and aggrieved by their long whisperings, which he was not invited to join. He was much relieved when Has-se told him that Rene had discovered a safe way of communicating with his people, and readily gave his permission for the two to depart together in a canoe, promising at the same time to await patiently Has-se's return.

With the utmost caution the two boys approached the fort at a point where its walls extended close to the river's edge. Here, beneath a tangle of wild-grape vines, Has'se removed a great piece of bark that closely resembled the surrounding soil, and disclosing an opening so narrow that but one man at a time might pass it. Leading the way into the passage, that extended underground directly back from the river, he was closely followed by Rene, and the two groped their way slowly through the intense blackness. It seemed to the white lad that they must have gone a mile before they came to the end, though in reality it was but about a hundred yards.

At length Has-se stopped, raised a second slab of bark that rested above his head, and whispered that they were now directly beneath the house of the commandant, which was built on stone piers that lifted it nearly two feet above the ground.

Has-se then lay down in the narrow passage, while Rene crawled over his body, until he was directly beneath the opening. Then giving Has-se's hand a warm squeeze with his own, he raised himself to the surface, leaving the Indian lad to make his way back to those who awaited him outside.

Upon gaining the fresh air once more, Rene found himself, even as Has-se had said he would, beneath a house, and in fact struck his head smartly against one of its timbers before he realized how shallow was the space between it and the ground. Unmindful of the pain of the blow in his excitement, he replaced the slab of bark over the mouth of the tunnel, and crawled on his hands and knees from beneath the building, which, as soon as he passed beyond it, he recognized as that occupied by his uncle Laudonniere.

A profound silence reigned throughout the great enclosure, nor was any light to be seen save a faint gleam that found its way through a crevice in one of the lower window-shutters of the building in front of which Rene stood. He was surprised not to meet the sentry who used formerly to pace always before the dwelling of the commandant; for he knew nothing of the mutiny, nor that all save the sentinels at the gates had been withdrawn. After listening for a moment, and hearing nothing, he made his way to the window from which came the ray of light, and tapped gently upon its shutter. He was compelled to repeat the noise several times before it attracted attention from within. At last he heard the well-known voice of his old tutor, Le Moyne, the artist, who called out,

"What ho, without! Who goes there?"

Making no answer, Rene tapped again. This caused the light to be extinguished and one leaf of the shutter to be cautiously opened, while Le Moyne asked, in a nervous voice,

"Who is here, and what is thy business with me at this hour?"

"Sh!" replied Rene, in a whisper. "It is I, Rene de Veaux. Ask me nothing, but admit me, that I may instantly communicate with my uncle the commandant. I have tidings of the utmost importance for him alone."

Le Moyne had at once recognized the voice of his beloved and long-lost pupil, and with hands trembling with eager excitement, he hastened to throw wide open the shutter and assist him to enter by the window. When he had got him safely inside he embraced the lad fervently, and kissed him on both cheeks. Then he said, "Thy uncle has been ill and is still weak; but if thy business is indeed as urgent as thou representest, I will instantly acquaint him with thy presence. I must, however, break the glad tidings gently and gradually to him, for fear of the effect of an overdose of joy."

So the good man shuffled away in his loose slippers towards the room in which Laudonniere lay, and without his knowledge, Rene followed him closely.

In the commandant's room Le Moyne began with,

"Monsieur, I have a message from the dead."

"Ay, thou wert always a dreamer," replied the sick man, testily.

"Nay, but this time it is no dream, but a living reality."

"Then the dead have come to life, and thou hast had dealings not with them, but with the living."

"It is even so, and he is one very dear to thee, whom thou hast deemed lost."

"What sayest thou?" cried the old chevalier, sitting up in bed in his excitement. "One dear to me, whom I deemed lost, and is now restored? It can be none other than Rene, my son. Where is he? Why tarries he from me?"

"He tarries not, uncle!" exclaimed a glad voice at the door, and in another moment uncle and nephew were locked in a close embrace, while sympathetic tears of joy stood in the eyes of the good Le Moyne.

As briefly as possible, and reserving the details for another occasion, Rene told his uncle that he had visited the land of the Alachuas, and had returned with twelve canoe-loads of corn, for which he had promised in his name twelve packages of trinkets such as he described, and the safe dismissal of their escort from the fort. He added that those who had come with him wished to depart that very night, and even now awaited him at the water gate.

"Alas!" exclaimed Laudonniere, when this had been told him, "I have no longer the power to make good thy word. While I have lain here as helpless as one struck with a palsy, another has assumed command; for know thou, my dear lad, that Fort Caroline and all it contains has passed into the hands of a body of mutineers, headed by none other than thy old friend Simon, the armorer. Go thou to him, and I doubt not he will treat with these friends of thine even as thou hast promised; for provisions such as thou sayest await even now an entrance to the fort are too rare a commodity within its walls to be scorned, even by mutineers. But, lad, return to me as speedily as may be, for the sight of thy brave face is as balm to the wounded, and thine absence has distressed me beyond that I can express."

So Rene departed in search of Simon, the armorer, and by his sudden appearance so frightened the old soldier that for some moments he could do nothing but stare, speechless, with a mixture of terror and amazement.

At length Rene succeeded in convincing the leader of the mutineers that he was no ghost, but a real flesh and blood Rene de Veaux. He gave an evasive answer to Simon's question as to how he obtained entrance to the fort, and hurried on to tell him, even more briefly than he had the commandant, of the successful journey he had made, and of the provisions that must be brought into the fort immediately.

"In good sooth, Master Rene," said Simon, when he fully comprehended that which the other told him, "I am heartily disgusted with this mutineering, and if thy uncle would but hold our views as to leaving this country, I would gladly resign all authority to him. Even as it is I am most willing to be guided in all such matters as this of thine by his judgment. As he says receive the provisions, of which indeed we are sorely in need, and deliver the trinkets thou hast promised to the savages who bring them, why so it shall be done. Thou canst vouch for them, though, and art certain that when the gate is once open they will not lush in with the intent of capturing the fort and murdering us in cold blood?"

"Of a surety I am," answered Rene, indignantly. "Would those who wished thee harm have fought for thee so valiantly as did these same friends of mine but a few hours since? It was their brave onset delivered thee from the savages near yonder mound of shells, and enabled thee to gain the fort in safety."

"What! How sayest thou! Was it indeed thy company who came so gallantly to our aid when we were so sorely beset by the savage ambush? Heaven bless thee, lad! These friends of thine shall be friends of mine as well for this day's work. Let us hasten to them. It was no fancy, then, but thine own brave cry of 'France to the Rescue!' that rang so cheerily through the forest, though I did misdoubt mine own ears at the time, and wondered greatly who our unknown friends could be. Thou art a noble lad and an honor to thy name."

Thus saying, Simon led the way towards the water gate, turning out the guard and bidding them accompany him as he went. At the gate they found Has-se, Yah-chi-la-ne, and the others awaiting them, according to agreement, and Simon and his soldiers rejoiced greatly when they saw the twelve canoe-loads of corn; for it had arrived just in time to avert a veritable famine within the walls of Fort Caroline.

While under Simon's direction the provisions were transferred to the storehouse with all possible despatch, Rene and Le Moyne made up the twelve packages of trinkets which were to pay for them. On his own account Rene also made up a package for Has-se, and another of such things as women prize for his sister, the beautiful Nethla. Nor was the brave Yah-chi-la-ne forgotten, but received in the shape of knives and hatchets what seemed to him presents of inestimable value.

Rene also gratified the young Alachua warriors by taking them inside the fort, and showing them, as well as he was able by the light of lanterns, the great "thunder-bows" whose voices they had heard that morning when still many miles away.

It was past midnight before the visitors were ready to depart, and then Rene and Has-se bade each other farewell with swelling hearts; for they had learned to love each other more dearly than brothers, and they feared they might never meet again.

One by one the canoes of the Alachuas glided away from the water gate noiselessly as so many thistle-downs, and were instantly lost to view in the night mist that hung like a soft gray curtain over the whole river. Rene watched the last one depart, and then going to his own room, he flung himself on a couch and was almost instantly buried in a profound slumber, so thoroughly exhausted was he by the exciting labors of the previous day.

The morning was well advanced when he awoke. For some moments he stared about him in bewilderment, unable to account for the absence of the open-air surroundings of his late life. As soon as he realized where he was, he sprang up, dressed, ate a hurried breakfast, and went to his uncle's room.

He found the commandant feeling so much stronger and better that he was sitting up for the first time in weeks, and, in a large easy-chair by the window, was impatiently awaiting his nephew. A look of great joy lighted up the old soldier's face as Rene entered the room, and he blessed Him who had once more restored to him this son of his old age. Then they talked, and several hours had slipped away before Rene had related all the details of his remarkable journey through the unknown wilderness of the interior, and Laudonniere had in turn given all the particulars of the mutiny, and made clear the present state of affairs in Fort Caroline.

At the conclusion of Rene's story his uncle said, "Thou hast carried thyself like a man, my lad, and like a true son of our noble house. The successful issue of thy undertaking also insures thee a pardon for the manner in which thou didst set about it. I must warn thee, however, that unless thou choose to be considered a mutineer or a rebel, never again take upon thyself the ordering of such a matter when under command of a superior officer."

Rene hung his head at this mild rebuke, and promised his uncle that his future actions should be entirely guided by him, so long as they sustained each other the relations they now bore.

He was amazed and troubled to learn of the plans of the mutineers in regard to abandoning the fort, and begged his uncle's permission to remonstrate against such a proceeding with Simon, the armorer. It being granted, he held a long and serious conversation with the old soldier, but to no avail.

"It is of no use, Master Rene," the armorer said, in his gruffest tones, but not unkindly, for he felt a strong affection for the lad, as all did who knew him—"it is of no use arguing at this late day. We have fully determined to leave this country of starvation and misery, and at least to make an effort to lay our bones in fair France. Our ship is ready for launching, and the provisions thou hast so bravely fetched will serve to victual her. We no longer dare to show our faces outside the walls of the fort, for the forest is full of red savages who thirst for our blood; and if we remain here much longer we shall die like rats in a trap. So put you the best possible face on the matter, young master, and lend us thine aid in preparing for departure."

Although Rene could not do this and still remain loyal to has uncle, he could and did prepare the chevalier for the abandonment of the fort that was so fully determined upon, and he rendered the latter valuable service in gathering together and packing his important papers for immediate removal.

The newly built vessel, which was at best a poor affair in which to undertake so tremendous a journey, was launched, and so speedily equipped, that within two weeks from the time of Rene's return she was pronounced ready for sea, and the business of getting her stores on board was begun. It proceeded so rapidly that in one week more Fort Caroline was dismantled of everything except its heavy guns and other ponderous articles that must be left, and the day for departure was set.

Soon after daylight, one fine morning early in the new year, the garrison marched on board the vessel. Laudonniere, protesting to the last, and accompanied by his nephew and by the faithful Le Moyne, was carried on board. Then the sails were spread to a gentle breeze, and the little company, who had only a few months before built the fort with such brave hearts and high hopes, sailed away from it, leaving it to its fate, though with the broad banner of France still floating above its walls. They expected, and even hoped, never to see it again, and even the terrible voyage they were about to undertake in a small and crazy craft seemed to them less fearful than a continuance of the life from which they were escaping.

The only farewells sent after them came in the shape of a few arrows shot at the ship by the angry savages who lined the river-bank, and sullenly watched the departure of their intended victims.

That day they sailed to the mouth of the river, but found so great a sea rolling in over its bar that they dared not attempt a passage through it, and were therefore forced to drop anchor while still within shelter of the land, and await its abatement.



CHAPTER XIII

ARRIVAL OF JEAN RIBAULT

As the fugitives from Fort Caroline lay inside the mouth of the River of May, awaiting the calming of the great seas that broke in columns and hills of foam on its bar, and for a favorable wind with which to put out to sea, they attempted to strengthen their crazy vessel and render her more seaworthy. Already her seams, calked with moss and pitch, had opened in so many places that she leaked badly, and only constant labor at the pumps kept her afloat.

Laudonniere had no hope of a successful termination of their voyage, and as he shared his fears with Le Moyne and Rene de Veaux, these three found little consolation in the thought of leaving the river and embarking upon the turbulent sea that promised them only a grave. They had no choice, however, but to go on with the rest; for to remain behind would be to fall into the hands of the savages, and thus meet with a more terrible death than that offered by the sea.

For several days they awaited the opportunity to depart, and at length it came. The great waves subsided, the wind blew from the right quarter, and spreading all their sorry showing of canvas, the little band of white men carried their vessel over the bar, and putting boldly out to sea, bade farewell, as they thought forever, to the shores on which they had suffered so greatly.

But other things were in store for them, and their voyage was soon brought to an end; for, as they were fast losing sight of the land, and it showed only as a low-lying cloud in the west, the ship suddenly rang with the thrilling cry of "Sail, ho!" All eyes were eagerly turned to the white speck seen far away to the southward, and its probable character and nationality were anxiously discussed. Many felt confident that it was one of the ships of Admiral Ribault, bringing the long-expected reinforcements, but as many more felt certain that it was a Spanish ship. If it should prove to be the latter they could expect only death or cruel captivity, for, being Huguenots, they knew that no mercy would be shown them by the Spanish Catholics.

As they watched the sail with straining eyes it was joined by another and another, until they beheld a goodly fleet bearing down upon them. Only constant labor at the pumps kept their own wretched craft from sinking, as she crept on at a snail's pace compared with the rapid advance of the on-coming fleet, and those on board of her knew that in any case flight was impossible. Nor were they in a condition to defend themselves against an attack from even the smallest of the approaching ships. Therefore there was nothing left for them to do but pray that those who came might prove friends and not enemies.

At length Laudonniere, whose cot had been brought on deck, pronounced that by their rig and general appearance the ships they watched were not French. Upon this a feeling of dull despair seized upon all who heard him, for they thought, if not French, they must certainly be Spanish ships.

In a moment, however, this despair was changed into the wildest joy, for from the mainmast-head of the foremost ship there flew out upon the freshening breeze, not the cruel yellow banner of Spain, but the brave blood-red ensign of England.

Shouts of welcome burst from the throats of Laudonniere and his men. They danced about the deck as though crazed by the thoughts of their great deliverance, and most speedily they ran to their own mast-head the lily banner of France. Its appearance was the signal for a roar of kindly greeting from the cannon of the leading English ship, which was soon afterwards hove-to at a distance of less than half a mile from them.

The English fleet proved to be that of the brave Sir John Hawkins, the bluff old sea-king whose very name was a terror to all Spaniards. He was on his way back to his own country from one of the famous cruises to the Spanish Main and the West Indies that were even then making him world-renowned. He had captured many Spanish ships laden with treasure in gold and silver from the mines of Mexico and Peru, and when he learned of the sad plight of the Chevalier Laudonniere and his people, he promptly offered to give them a ship in which they might safely undertake a voyage to their own country. Moreover, when he was told how slender was their store of provisions, he furnished the ship which he was about to give them with a supply of food that would last them for several months.

In the name of King Charles IX of France, Laudonniere, who had again assumed command of his little company unquestioned by the mutineers, thanked the brave Englishman for his great kindness to them, and accepted his generous gifts. Then the English fleet, with a parting salute from its loud-mouthed cannon, bore away and resumed its homeward voyage. At the same time the Frenchmen started back for the River of May, where, under shelter of the land, they proposed making the transfer of their property from their own crazy craft to the stout ship which they had received from the English admiral. Thus it happened that the sunset of that eventful day found them in the very same place from which they had so willingly departed that morning, and had never expected to see again.

At this time Laudonniere made another earnest effort to induce his men to return to Fort Caroline, and there await patiently the arrival of Jean Ribault, now that they had a supply of provisions and a good ship, but to no avail.

Simon, the armorer, expressing the sentiments of all the rest, save only Le Moyne and Rene de Veaux, said,

"What with fightings and fevers, we are in no condition to drive out the savages who have doubtless ere this entered into full possession of Fort Caroline. If we did regain the fort, what could we do save remain there until this heaven-sent store of provisions should be exhausted? and then would we not be in as sad a plight as before? No, your Excellency, let us return to our own land while we may, and not linger here longer in the hope of succor which seems likely never to be sent."

So Laudonniere, having numbers against him, was forced to accept the situation as he had done before, and the work of transfer from one vessel to the other proceeded rapidly.

When it was accomplished, and they were ready to start on their second venture, the elements were again against them, and for a week they were confronted by an impassable wall of foam-crested billows, breaking and roaring upon the bar in the most tumultuous confusion.

Late one afternoon, when their patience had become well-nigh exhausted by this tedious delay, all hearts were thrilled by the report of a fleet of ships seen far out at sea, but approaching the land. An anxious night followed, for again were the members of the little band torn with conflicting fears and hopes. Were the ships French, English, or Spanish? Daylight only could bring an answer to the question.

At length it came, and as the sun rose, its earliest beams fell upon seven tall ships riding easily at anchor outside the bar. From each was displayed in the golden light the fair lily banner of France.

At this glorious sight there was indeed joy on board the ship of Laudonniere. At last the long-looked-for reinforcements had come. There was no more talk of mutiny, nor of abandoning the country. Now the cry was, "Ho for Fort Caroline, and destruction to the savages!"

Crowding all sail upon their newly acquired ship, and with its guns firing salutes of welcome, and banners flung to the breeze from every point, they sailed out over the still tumultuous bar to greet the new-comers from their own land. It was indeed Admiral Jean Ribault and his fleet of succor for the little colony. On board his flag-ship Trinity, a joyful meeting took place between him and his trusted lieutenant, the brave Laudonniere, who, supported by Rene de Veaux and Le Moyne, found strength to carry himself thither.

The admiral was highly indignant when he heard of the mutiny, and would have punished the mutineers severely had not Laudonniere pleaded for them, giving their sufferings and their despair of the arrival of reinforcements as their excuse.

The closest attention was paid to the tale of the brave deeds of Rene de Veaux. At its conclusion the admiral sent for him, and caused him to blush as ruddily as his sun-tanned cheeks would permit, by highly commending the courage and wisdom he had displayed on his journey to the land of the Alachuas. In conclusion the admiral said, "Did thy years warrant it, thou shouldst receive thy knighthood, for never did squire more worthily earn it. For the future thy welfare and speedy promotion shall be the especial charge of Jean Ribault."

For such words as these from such a man, Rene felt that he would gladly face, single-handed, the whole Seminole band; and for the rest of that day he conceived himself to be the happiest boy in the world.

Only one of Admiral Ribault's ships was of such light draught as enabled her to cross the bar, and so this one, with that of Laudonniere, was obliged to transfer all the newly arrived colonists and supplies to Fort Caroline. This labor occupied many days, for the three hundred new colonists had brought with them a vast amount of provisions, munitions of war, tools, and articles of every description necessary for the building and equipping of other forts in the New World, and all this had to be brought in over the bar and carried up the river.

When the new-comers first caught sight of the fort they were grievously disappointed to see it dismantled and deserted. As they approached it more closely they obtained a glimpse of a few savages who were still searching for plunder within its walls, and from these they gained their first impressions of the inhabitants of the New World.

Rene was made very happy by the return to the fort, for he said to himself, "It will soon be time for Micco's people to come again to their own hunting-grounds. Then I shall again see Has-se, and mayhap I shall be able to persuade him to go with me some day to France."

His thoughts were soon to be of other things, for even at this time a terrible storm which had long been gathering was about to burst upon this little band of Huguenots. Even as they busied themselves so happily in restoring their fort and planning a settlement that should flourish forever as a refuge for the persecuted of their religion, a powerful enemy, and one who was even more cruel than powerful, was on the way to destroy it and them. Don Pedro Menendez, with a fleet of thirty-four ships and three thousand troops, had been sent out to the New World by the King of Spain. He was ordered to take and hold possession of all the country then known as Florida, which extended as far north as the English settlement in Virginia, and had no western limit. He was to build a fort and found a city; but first of all he was to discover and destroy the colony of heretics who were reported to have established themselves within this territory.

Soon after Ribault's coming the Spanish fleet arrived on the coast, and sailing northward they discovered the French ships, late one afternoon, lying at anchor off the mouth of the River of May. At midnight they too came to anchor within hailing distance of the French fleet, and a trumpet was sounded from the deck of the San Palayo, the Spanish flag-ship. It was immediately answered from the Trinity, and from the deck of his own ship Menendez inquired, with great courtesy,

"Gentlemen, whence comes this fleet?"

"From France," was the reply.

"What is its object here?"

"To bring men and supplies to a fort that the King of France has caused to be built in this country, and to establish many more in his name."

"Be ye Catholics or heretics?"

"We be Huguenots, and who be ye who askest these many questions?"

Then came the bitter answer, "I am Don Pedro Menendez, admiral of this fleet. It belongs to the King of Spain, his Majesty Don Philip II, and I am come to this country to destroy all heretics found within its limits, whether upon sea or land. I may not spare one alive, and at break of day it is my purpose to capture your ships and kill all heretics they may contain."

Upon this Ribault and his men interrupted the proud Spaniard with taunts and jeers, begging him not to wait until morning before putting his threat into execution, but to come at once and kill them.

So greatly did this provoke the Spanish admiral that he ordered his captains to cut the cables of their ships, and make an instant attack upon the French fleet, though the night was intensely dark. He was so enraged that he rushed about the deck of his own ship like a madman, and assisted with his own hands in forwarding the preparations for battle. In a few minutes the entire Spanish fleet bore down upon the six French ships; but the crews of these had not been idle, and before their enemies could reach them they too had cut their cables, hoisted sail, and stood out to sea. For the rest of the night the Spaniards chased them, but Ribault's superior seamanship soon placed him at a safe distance from the pursuers, who at daylight gave over the chase and turned back towards the River of May, intending to make an attack upon Fort Caroline.

In the meantime word had been sent to the fort by Admiral Ribault of the coming of the Spanish fleet, when it was first sighted, and Laudonniere had collected his entire force at the mouth of the river, and planted there a number of heavy guns. Here he proposed to dispute the landing of the enemy, and if possible to prevent his crossing the bar, just inside of which he had anchored his two small vessels, so that their guns commanded the narrow channel.

When Menendez returned from his unsuccessful pursuit of Ribault's ships, and saw these warlike preparations, he felt that it would be unwise to attempt to land his troops through the surf, or to force the passage of the bar, and so he ordered his captains to proceed southward to the River of Dolphins. When it was reached, the smaller vessels crossed the bar at its mouth, and came to anchor opposite the Indian village of Seloy, where Rene de Veaux had first set foot upon the soil of the New World, and where he had received the name of Ta-lah-lo-ko.

Here Menendez determined to build his fort, and found a city which he hoped to make the capital of a great and glorious kingdom, and from which he proposed to conduct operations against the Huguenots of Fort Caroline. On the day after his arrival he landed with the greatest pomp and ceremony, and claimed possession of the country in the name of the King of Spain. As he did so all the cannon of the ships lying in the river were discharged at once with a mighty roar, which was answered by a distant booming from those anchored far out at sea. At the same time all the trumpets were sounded, and the air was filled with the exulting shouts of the soldiers, and with hymns of praise chanted by a great company of priests. At the same moment the great stag that stood in front of the council-house of the Indians was torn down from the tall pole on which it was uplifted, and the cross was raised in its place.

So terrified were the simple-minded Indian inhabitants of the village by this sacrilege, and the great noise of the rejoicings, that they knew not which way to turn or flee, until they were seized by the brutal soldiers, and either killed or set to work with the negro slaves brought from the West Indies in throwing up fortifications. After thus taking possession of the country, Menendez proclaimed that the new city, founded upon the smoking blood-stained ruins of the pleasant little Indian village of Seloy should be called "San Augustin," which name it bears to this day, and that the River of Dolphins should be thereafter known as the "San Augustin River."

When the bewildered chief of the Seloy Indians found that these strange white men were about to destroy his village, he made a bitter protest against their cruelties; but he was no more regarded than if he had been a barking dog. They would have killed him, but he gathered together a few of his chosen warriors, and with them fled for protection to his white friend Laudonniere, at Fort Caroline, which place he reached the next day.

He had some difficulty in gaining admittance to the fort, for since its attack by the Seminoles its garrison were suspicious of all Indians, and had it not been for Rene de Veaux he would have been driven away. Rene happened to be near the gate when the sentinel challenged the newcomers, and recognizing the good old chief who had been so kind to him, and whom he knew to be a friend of his uncle, ordered the sentry to admit these Indians, at the same time pledging his own word for their good faith.

When Rene learned the importance of the tidings brought by these fugitives, he at once conducted the chief to Laudonniere, on whom the fever still retained such a hold as to confine him to his room.

The poor old chief told his pitiful tale to Laudonniere, and begged his powerful aid in driving away these wicked white men, who had treated him so differently from all others who had landed at his village. Promising to do what he could, Laudonniere at once despatched a messenger down the river to Admiral Ribault, who had returned with his ships and again lay at anchor beyond the bar.

In answer came an order for all the fighting men of Fort Caroline to join the fleet immediately, as the admiral proposed to sail southward and attack these impudent Spaniards ere they had time to erect fortifications, or so strengthen their position that to attack it would be useless.

Then came a time of tremendous bustle and excitement within the fort. There were men hurrying hither and thither gathering their weapons, women and children screaming and crying—for many of these had been brought out with the new colonists—and dogs barking.

Rene de Veaux begged his uncle to permit him to accompany the fighting men, but Laudonniere said "No," that the order did not include boys, and he could be of greatest service by remaining within the fort.

So the fighting men marched away to join the fleet, leaving Fort Caroline to be defended only by the old, the sick, the women, and the children. Besides the commandant and Rene de Veaux, among those who remained behind were Le Moyne, the artist, and old Simon, the armorer, to whom was given the command of the guard.



CHAPTER XIV

A NIGHT OF TERROR

Immediately after landing Menendez and his soldiers, with their supplies, at San Augustin, the ships of the fleet, which on account of their size had been unable to enter the river, sailed away for Spain, leaving only a few small vessels at anchor inside the bar. Thus apparently all was favorable to the bold enterprise of Admiral Ribault, who, with his six ships, and all the troops from Fort Caroline, had determined to attack, and if possible to destroy, the newly founded city before it could be fortified.

When he arrived off the mouth of the river the tide was so low on the bar that his ships could not pass it. So they stood off and on, waiting for it to rise, and the Spaniards on shore, seeing them, were filled with great consternation. Of a sudden, almost without warning, there came a terrible blast of wind out of the north-east. It was followed by another and another, until such a gale was raging as had never been seen by white men on that coast. In vain did the French ships struggle against it, and against the huge billows that towered as high as their tallest masts. They could do nothing against its fury, and soon the Spaniards were filled with joy at seeing them drift helplessly down the coast towards certain wreck and destruction.

Then Menendez made up his mind, in spite of the terrible gale, to march overland to the attack of Fort Caroline, thus deprived of its defenders. Followed by five hundred picked men, he set forth, and for three days, beaten and drenched by the pitiless storm, he wandered through over-flowed swamps and tangled forests. He had compelled several of the Seloy Indians to go with him and act as guides; but finally, believing that they were purposely leading him astray, he put them to death with great cruelty, and trusted to his own knowledge to lead him to the great river. At length he reached it, and following its course, came during the night to a high bluff, from which he looked down upon the few twinkling lights of Fort Caroline beneath him.

Meantime the raging of the elements had caused the greatest anxiety to those who remained within the fort, for they were fearful of its effect upon the ships of Admiral Ribault; and though they of course knew nothing of their fate, they were already beginning to regard them as lost.

Under Simon, the armorer, as captain of the guard, Rene de Veaux had done duty with the few old men and invalids who were pressed into service as sentinels, and he had manfully shouldered his cross-bow, and paced the walls through many long hours of storm, rain, and darkness. Although, in his pride at thus performing the duties of a real soldier, the boy allowed no word of complaint to escape him, he felt what the others expressed openly—that this guard duty, now that the Spaniards and savages had departed, and in the midst of a storm so terrible that it did not seem possible for mortals to face it, was an unnecessary hardship. So when, towards morning of the fourth night, after two hours of wearily pacing the walls in the cold, drenching rain, he was relieved, and flung himself, all wet as he was, upon a couch in his own quarters, he determined to remonstrate with Simon upon the subject.

In spite of his feelings, Rene had been absolutely faithful to his duty, which, alas! the soldier who relieved him was not. After a few turns upon the parapet, during which he neither saw nor heard anything to disquiet him, this sentinel sought shelter from the beatings of the storm in an angle of the walls, where he soon fell into a doze.

Even then the Spaniards were at the gates, awaiting the signal to make an attack. It was given, and Rene had hardly dropped into a troubled sleep when he was rudely awakened by a crash, a rending of wood, the wild scream of agony with which the unfaithful sentinel yielded up his life, and the triumphant yells of the enemy, who had forced an entrance through the little unguarded postern-gate.

Rene sprang to the door, and for an instant stood motionless, petrified by terror at the awful sights that greeted his gaze. Already flames were bursting from many of the tents and barracks, and by the light thus given he saw men, women, and children, almost naked as they had sprung from their beds, flying in every direction before the pitiless Spaniards. Wherever they turned the fugitives were met by long pikes, gleaming swords, and keen daggers, and above the howlings of the storm rose their shrill screams of terror and quickly stifled cries of mortal agony.

For an instant only did Rene gaze upon these awful scenes, and then, remembering his uncle, he rushed to the commandant's dwelling which the Spaniards had not yet reached. He found, Laudonniere, pale and trembling, but as calm and collected as becomes the brave soldier even in the presence of death, standing beside his bed, while the faithful Le Moyne endeavored to assist him into his armor.

Breathlessly Rene explained that there was no time to lose, and no hope of saving the fort. "All is lost!" he cried, "and if ye would save your own lives, follow me without an instant's delay. I, and I alone, know of a way of escape."

It was only then that Rene had bethought himself of the underground passage of which Has-se had taught him the secret.

Reassured by his confident words, the two men followed him out of the house, and to their great surprise were led beneath it among the stone piers of its foundations. They were not a moment too soon, for as they disappeared, some Spanish soldiers, who had learned that this was the dwelling of the commandant, burst into it with savage cries, and proceeded to search its every corner in the hope of capturing the greatest prize of all in the person of the Huguenot leader.

Their hour of triumph was imbittered by not finding him, for even as they searched his chamber he, preceded by Rene de Veaux and followed by Le Moyne, the artist, was making his way through the narrow tunnel beneath them towards the river-bank beyond the walls of the fort.

So surprised was Laudonniere at this underground passage leading into the very heart of his fort, of the existence of which he had never until that moment even dreamed, that when they emerged on the river-bank he forgot all else in his curiosity concerning it.

"Whence comes this passage that has proved of such wonderful service to us, and how came thou by a knowledge of it?" he asked of his nephew.

Even then Rene would not betray the solemn promise of secrecy given to Has-se, but answered,

"Let us not now stop to talk of these matters, I pray thee, oh mine uncle. Thy precious life is still in great danger. Let us first perfect thy escape, and another time I will answer thee concerning this secret passage. For the present I beg of thee to make thy way, accompanied by the good Master Le Moyne, as speedily and secretly as may be, down the river to its mouth, where do still lie the two small ships left behind by Admiral Ribault. Let me, who am young, strong, and active, tarry here for a short time, that perchance I may aid others of our people to effect an escape by means of this same tunnel. I will delay but shortly, and will overtake and rejoin thee long ere thy feebleness shall have permitted thee to reach the river's mouth."

Although Laudonniere was most reluctant to part with his nephew at such a time, he deemed that it would be an exhibition of selfishness on his part to compel his attendance upon himself when it was possible that by remaining he might save the lives of some of the unfortunates within the fort. Therefore he reluctantly gave his consent that Rene should remain behind for a short time, but charged him not to unnecessarily expose himself to danger. Then both men embraced the lad fervently, gave him their blessing, and departed, full of the hope of speedily meeting with him again—a hope that was destined to be sadly deferred.

After their departure Rene again entered the tunnel and made his way back to its inner terminus. There he cautiously drew himself up from its mouth, crept to the edge of the building beneath which it lay, and watched and listened for what he might discover.

He had not been there a minute when he was startled by hearing a smothered groan close at hand. Listening attentively, he heard it again; and feeling confident that he who uttered it must be one of his own countrymen, he began to creep carefully, and without betraying his presence by the slightest sound, in the direction from which it proceeded. At length he heard a third groan, so close to him that he instinctively drew back for fear of coming into contact with the person who uttered it. Then, in the lightest of whispers, he inquired,

"Who is there? I am Rene de Veaux."

For answer came the whisper, "Heaven help thee, Master Rene, if thou art in like plight with myself! I am thy old friend Simon, sorely wounded, and with no hope save that of falling into the hands of these fiends of Spaniards when daylight shall enable them to make a thorough search of the premises."

"Cheer up, good Simon, and speak not thus dolefully," whispered Rene. "If thou canst walk, or even crawl, I can save thee. Where lies thy wound?"

"Not so that it interferes with my crawling or even walking; for though it seems to lie in several portions of my body at once, it affects not my legs. If thou hast knowledge of a chance of escape, however slender, lead on, and I will gladly follow thee, for hopes I have none in remaining here."

So Rene guided Simon very slowly and cautiously to the mouth of the tunnel. Through it the old man forced his way, and with much difficulty and many groans, until he too reached the river-bank in safety, and was sent on to join Laudonniere and Le Moyne, and with them to make an effort to reach the ships.

Then once more did the brave lad make his way back through the narrow tunnel and to the outer edge of the house above its inner entrance. Here, as before, he listened and awaited in the hope of discovering other unfortunates whom he might aid to escape.

As he lay there watching, he listened with a swelling heart to the triumphant songs and shouts of the Spaniards, and the cries of the victims, whose hiding-places were still occasionally discovered, and who were instantly put to death. Suddenly the smouldering embers of a fire near by were fanned into a momentary blaze that caused him to withdraw hastily beneath the building lest he should be discovered. As he did so his eye lighted on a pile of books and papers that had been tossed from the windows of the building beneath which he was concealed. Even in that glance he recognized them as belonging to his uncle, and being the same that he had helped to pack when the fort was abandoned.

Realizing their importance, and despairing of being able to afford further aid to any of the recent occupants of the fort, Rene determined to attempt to save these papers. It was a bold undertaking, for to reach them he was obliged to leave the shelter of the building and advance some distance into the open, where at any moment he might be revealed to his enemies by flashes of firelight from the smouldering timbers near by. Fully realizing the risk he ran, but undismayed by it, the brave boy made several trips to and from the pile of books and papers. He had removed nearly all of them to the tunnel, which he felt to be the only safe place for them, when he suddenly became aware that morning was near at hand, and that the rapidly increasing light of day had made his task doubly dangerous.

Knowing, however, that all that were left could be carried on one more trip, he determined to make it. Just as he gathered into his arms the last of the papers to save which he was risking his life, a yell of delight announced that he was discovered. A quick glance revealed two Spanish soldiers rushing towards him with levelled pikes, and gleaming eyes that were red and bloodshot as those of the tiger who has tasted blood.

With a rare presence of mind, and without dropping his precious bundle, Rene darted, not under the house, but into it through the main entrance. Running through the long hall, which was still shrouded in complete darkness, he sprang out of an open window at its rear end. As he did so he heard his pursuers enter the house and begin an eager search of its rooms, at the same time calling others of their comrades to their assistance.

Breathlessly creeping beneath the building, Rene reached the underground passage in safety, and deposited within it the papers for which he had dared so much. After drawing the slab of bark carefully over the entrance above his head, he removed all the books and papers to the very middle of the tunnel, where they nearly blocked the narrow way and rendered it impassable. With the other things, he had brought away a small iron box, banded and locked, and this he took especial pains to effectually conceal.

While he was thus working like a mole beneath the ground, the baffled Spaniards above his head were becoming more and more enraged and perplexed. Their thorough search of the building into which they had seen their would-be victim enter, but which no one had seen him leave, failed to discover not only him, but any traces of the great pile of books and papers which they had collected for the purpose of burning.

Finally they became convinced that the building contained some secret chamber that they were unable to detect, and by order of Menendez himself it was set on fire and burned to the ground. Thus the Spaniards felt sure that they had destroyed not only the books and papers, but the unknown enemy who had so daringly risked his life to recover and save them. At the same time they were greatly astonished that he should have quietly permitted the fire to destroy him without making an effort to escape, or allowing a single cry of pain or anguish to betray his presence. After much consideration of the matter they finally concluded that so many of the Huguenots had suffered martyrdom at the stake that they had all learned to endure the torture of burning in silence.

When Rene had finished storing the books and papers as carefully as the circumstances would permit, he at last found time to consider his own safety. Going to the end of the tunnel, and peering cautiously out to make sure that he was not observed, he replaced the bark door beneath its curtain of vines, and began to work his way very slowly and with many a backward glance down the river. It was now broad daylight, and for fear of being seen from the fort, he crept close under shelter of the bank, sometimes crawling on his hands and knees, and often wading in water up to his waist.

At length, by several hours' hard labor, which, coming after his exertions of the preceding night, completely exhausted him, he reached the high bluff which has already been described as commanding a view of several miles both up and down the river. Wearily the tired boy climbed to its summit, from which, as he gazed up the river, he saw with a heavy heart the yellow banner of Spain flaunting itself above the walls of Fort Caroline. As its folds glistened in the bright sunshine, for the storm of the past four days had passed away with the night, they seemed to him like those of some huge and venomous serpent, and he turned from the sight with a shudder.

On the other hand, in the far distance, he saw, still lying at anchor, the two small ships which he believed to be, as they were, the only representatives of the power of France now left in the New World. On these he placed all his hopes of escape, of future happiness, and of life itself.

Anxious as he was to reach the ships and to rejoin his uncle, the poor lad's exhausted frame could withstand the terrible strain upon it no longer. It pleaded for a rest so effectually that Rene flung himself upon a pile of wet moss, determined to snatch an hour's sleep before attempting to proceed farther.

As the boy slept he was visited by troublous dreams that caused him to toss his arms and moan pitifully; and no wonder, after the horrid scenes of which he had so recently been a spectator; no wonder, too, when new and terrible dangers threatened him closely even as he slept. Had he been awake he would have noticed the approach of a small band of Indians, who, appearing on the edge of the forest, made their way directly towards the bluff. It was a party of Seminole warriors, led by their chief the gigantic Cat-sha. With him was Chitta the Snake, and behind them walked three bound prisoners. Two of these were Frenchmen, and the third was an Indian lad who had escaped with his chief from the doomed village of Seloy, only to share the fate of the equally doomed fort in which he had sought shelter. These had thrown themselves from the walls of the fort upon its capture by the Spaniards, and had reached the forest unharmed.

There they had fallen into the hands of these Seminoles who had not fled from this part of the country upon the return of the French, as the latter had supposed, but had lingered in the hope of capturing any white men who might incautiously stray beyond the protecting walls. They desired to capture these that their tortures might form part of the festivities with which they proposed to celebrate their return to their stronghold in the great swamp, and to which the rest of the band, bearing the plunder taken from Fort Caroline after it was abandoned, had already gone. The Seminoles, rejoicing greatly over the fortune that had thrown three victims thus easily into their hands, were now on their way to their canoes, which they had hidden near the foot of this high bluff.

Directing the others to proceed to where the canoes lay, Cat-sha, accompanied by Chitta, ascended the eminence for the purpose of taking a sweeping view of the river and the surrounding country. As they gained the summit Rene's moanings warned them of his presence. Stealing to the spot where he lay with the noiseless footfalls of wild beasts, the two Indians stood for a moment gloating over the unconscious lad. They fully realized the value of this unexpected and welcome prize, for both of them recognized the young white chief the moment their eyes lighted upon him. In another minute the poor lad had awakened with a wild cry of terror, to find himself bound hand and foot, and lying at the mercy of those whom he knew to be his bitterest and most unrelenting enemies.



CHAPTER XV

RENE IN THE HANDS OF HIS ENEMIES

Well might Rene de Veaux feel that he had fallen into evil hands, as, upon awakening from his troubled slumber, he found himself bound hand and foot, and gazed into the cruel face of Chitta, lighted by a triumphant but sneering smile. Nor did he gain any comfort by turning his eyes to the sullen countenance of the huge Cat-sha. Neither pity nor mercy was expressed in the slightest degree by either of the Seminoles. Chitta thought of the revenge he was to enjoy for his humiliating overthrow during the games at the Feast of Ripe Corn, which he fully believed he owed to the white lad. Cat-sha knew that Rene had led the attack upon his band at the shell mound, and regarded him as a brave enemy whom he should take an exquisite delight in torturing.

Loosening the bonds that encircled the boy's ankles, his captors forced him to walk to the foot of the bluff, where the rest of their band were gathered. These received the new prisoner with extravagant manifestations of delight, and after all had examined him, and his weapons had been taken from him, he was again tightly bound and thrown into the bottom of one of the canoes. Although he had caught a glimpse of the other white prisoners, he was not allowed to communicate with them.

As his captors desired to keep him well and strong, they gave him food and water, both of which he at first thought of refusing, and thus bringing his sufferings to an end as quickly as possible. On second thought, however, he decided that this course would be cowardly, and unworthy of his white blood. So he ate heartily all that was offered to him, determined to keep up his strength, and to make a desperate effort to escape should the slightest opportunity present itself.

Having reached this decision, Rene felt much calmer and more hopeful, and as he was sadly in need of sleep, he determined to obtain as much of that blessing as was possible. Shortly afterwards the Indians were greatly astonished to find their new prisoner slumbering as quietly as though no danger threatened him, and he had not an anxiety in the world.

While daylight lasted the Seminoles remained in that spot, but at nightfall they launched their canoes, and set forth on their journey to the great swamp of the Okeefenokee.

An hour later a few shadows flitted through the darkness over the placid waters, past the two French ships that still lay at anchor near the mouth of the river. Making no sound, they were unnoticed and unchallenged, and in a few minutes they had turned and vanished amid the vast salt-marshes that bounded the river on the north. Thus Rene de Veaux passed within a few rods of the uncle who was so anxiously awaiting his coming, and neither of them had the slightest suspicion of the other's presence.

Lying in the bottom of a canoe, from which he was only taken when the Indians went into camp, Rene knew not whither he was being taken, nor had he any idea that he was making the very same journey that he and Has-se had taken together some months before. He was not allowed to communicate with, nor did he even see, the other white prisoners, for they were carried in separate canoes, and at night all three were bound to trees situated at considerable distances from each other.

Day after day the boy studied the faces of his captors attentively, but among them all he found only one that betrayed the faintest evidence of pity for his forlorn condition. Even his expression was only one of somewhat less ferocity than that of the others, and poor Rene imagined that it was owing to his youth, for this Indian was but a mere lad of even less years than himself. In fact he was the young Indian from Seloy who had been captured by the Seminoles on the same day with Rene. Having unexpectedly obtained three instead of two white prisoners, and being in need of recruits, Cat-sha had offered to spare this lad's life and set him at liberty if he would become a Seminole and a member of their band. This the young Indian, whose name was E-chee (the Deer), had professed himself as willing to do, though he secretly determined to make his escape at the very first opportunity.

He had at once recognized Rene, though he was careful not to betray the fact, and was very glad that the white lad showed no sign of ever having seen him. Only by an occasional pitying glance, when he could give it undetected by the others, did he attempt to convey his friendly feelings to the young prisoner. When it came his turn to stand guard over the captives, he treated them with greater harshness than any of the Seminoles, in order to allay any suspicion that might be entertained of his faithfulness. But always he watched for an opportunity to communicate with Rene, and make known to him that he was a friend.

At length such an opportunity offered itself. They had entered the great swamp, and even Rene, from the bottom of the canoe, seeing the tall cypresses meet overhead, began to suspect where they were. During a portion of an intensely dark night E-chee kept watch over the prisoners. While the guard whom he relieved was there to note the action, he gave each of the three captives a kick with his moccasined foot. This, while it did not hurt them, expressed to the Seminole a degree of contempt that satisfied him that the new recruit hated the white men as cordially as he himself.

When he had departed and all was quiet, E-chee approached the place where Rene lay bound to a tree, and lying down close beside him, he whispered, "Ta-lah-lo-ko."

Rene had fallen asleep, but he was instantly awakened by the sound of this familiar name, even though it was only whispered. Without moving, he waited to hear if the sound would be repeated, or whether he had only dreamed some one had called him.

In a moment the whisper came again, "Ta-lah-lo-ko."

"Who art thou?" asked Rene, in the Indian language.

"I am E-chee from Seloy, where I saw thee when thou first set foot on the land of my people. Dost thou not remember?"

"Art thou not E-chee the Seminole?"

"To all appearance I am become one of these runaways, but my heart is that of a true man, and I seek only an opportunity to escape from them and to rejoin my own people. If indeed any of my people be left alive," he added, bitterly.

"Dost thou think an escape may be effected?" asked Rene, eagerly, a new hope dawning in his breast.

"I know not, but I can try, and should I fail, death itself were better than life with these Seminole dogs."

Then Rene asked where they were and what E-chee knew of Cat-sha's plans.

He was told that they were in the great Okeefenokee swamp, even as he had suspected. On the morrow they were to leave the canoes and find a trail that led to the Seminole village, hidden in its most impenetrable depths. When they reached it E-chee believed, from fragments of conversation he had overheard, that there was to be a great feast, and that the prisoners were to be tortured.

Then Rene told E-chee of the land of the Alachuas, and described to him how he might reach it. This done, he asked the young Indian to reach a hand into the breast of his doublet, where, within its lining, he would find a feather with a slender chain and pin attached to it. This, on account of his bonds, he could not get at with his own hands.