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CHAPTER XIV
CLOSE QUARTERS WITH ’GATORS

The roar that had startled them was, as Pork Chops explained to the boys in a low undertone, the mating cry of the huge crocodile which was now probably on its way to the den in which they had surprised it earlier in the day.

“Are you all ready?” whispered Harry to Frank, as both boys distinctly heard the rushing noise made by the huge creature as it leisurely swam through the still water.

Frank grasped his rifle. Harry already had his leveled, ready for use as soon as Pork Chops’ jack lantern illuminated the quarry. They had not long to wait.

“Now, den, sah,” cried Pork Chops as he raised the hood of the lantern and a ray of light shot out across the water. As if fascinated by the sudden illumination a great cruel head armed with rows of saber-like teeth suddenly flashed into view.

“Let him have it,” shouted Frank as both he and Harry fired.

There was a repetition of the roar as their bullets bored home but mingled with it was a loud shout from the Carrier Dove, that for the moment put all thoughts of the success or failure of their shots out of the boys’ heads. The cry came from Billy and it was sufficiently alarming considering that the water fairly swarmed with alligators and the more vicious crocodiles.

“Lathrop’s overboard!”

A thrill of horror shot through both boys as they heard the words. At Frank’s swift command the old negro switched the canoe round as if she been on a pivot and the next minute the ray of the jack lantern was sweeping the water in the direction of the Carrier Dove. Lathrop, carried away by excitement as the boys’ rifles had been discharged, had leaned far over the side of the sloop, hanging on by a frayed lanyard. This had parted under his weight and he was now struggling in the water.

Billy Barnes and Ben Stubbs had thrown him ropes but the bewildered boy, half stunned by the shock of his sudden immersion, could not see them. He swam blindly about in the fetid water trying to grasp the side of the sloop. It was so dark, however, that partially dazed as he was he did not seem able to find it. When the ray of the jack lantern fell on his white dripping face he had about given up hope.

“Hold on, Lathrop,” shouted Frank as, urged by Pork Chops’ powerful strokes, the canoe shot toward the struggling boy. In their excitement all the occupants of the frail craft had quite forgotten about the big bull crocodile they had wounded. They were reminded of his presence in a startling fashion.

Without the slightest warning the canoe seemed to be propelled into the air as the powerful tail of the wounded saurian struck it, and the next minute its occupants were struggling in the water in as bad a fix as Lathrop. Both boys were powerful swimmers but both realized that all their skill would not avail to save them in the fix in which they found themselves. As for Pork Chops his terror was pitiable.

“Oh Lawd! oh Lawd! I didn’t mean no harm when I stole ole Aunt Liza’s white pullet,” here he was half-choked by water. “Oh Lawd, git me out ob dis widout been all chawed up by crokindiles an’ I won’t never steal folks’ fowls agin, Lawd. O-o-o-o-oh!”

He broke off with a yell of real terror. Frank swimming toward the Carrier Dove felt a huge body brush by him in the water and frantically stroked toward his goal. Harry was safe, he could hear him breathing as he swam. But poor Pork Chops! The unfortunate black had given himself up for lost when there was a sudden blinding flash of light from the sloop and at the same minute two rifles cracked. The amazed boys, struggling in the water to gain the sloop, saw in the sudden white glare the reptile’s black head with monstrous opened jaws suddenly checked in its rush on the apparently doomed Pork Chops as Billy Barnes and Ben pumped the lead out of the rifles into the wounded crocodile’s mate as fast as they could work them.

The huge body swung clean out of the water in its death agony and fell back with a mighty splash. Great clouds of awakened herons flew from the islets round about and the whole forest rang with the cries of aroused birds.

Ben Stubbs had had the presence of mind to seize and ignite one of the signal flares and it was by its powerful light that they had saved the lives of Pork Chops and possibly of the boys. With the illumination afforded by the glare it didn’t take long for the boys to get aboard the Carrier Dove where Lathrop in a very shamefaced way related how he came to tumble overboard.

“It’s all the fault of your rotten rigging,” he said indignantly, looking at the dripping Pork Chops who was still so scared that he could hardly speak. The insult to his Carrier Dove, however, fired him with a righteous wrath.

“What you all mean, Marse Lathrop, by saying dose unkindnesses ’bout dis yar ship of mine?” he sputtered indignantly. “I’d have you to understan’ dat she’s jes’ as fine a craf’ as der is on dis yer Flahda coas’, yes, sah.”

“I beg your pardon,” laughed Lathrop, who now that the danger was over had quite recovered his usual flow of spirits, “I didn’t mean to insult you. However,” he went on more gravely, “if it hadn’t been for Billy and Ben here I doubt if any of us would have been alive now to even hurt your feelings.”

Of course a great handshaking between the boys and their rescuers took place, and as for Pork Chops he swore that he would not leave the boys whom he hailed as his “sabyers.”

The original plan had been that he was to sail the Carrier Dove back to Miami as soon as the boys started into the ’glades, but he absolutely refused to hear of this now.

“No, sah, you saved mah wuthless life, an’ ah means ter stick ter yer jes’ as long as mah laigs ul carry me,” he declared.

From this determination he could not be swayed and when they turned in that night it had been arranged that the old black was to accompany them, occupying a part of Lathrop’s canoe, and that the Carrier Dove was to remain at anchor where she was; – at all events for a time. In that little frequented maze of keys and mangrove-grown shoals there was small likelihood of anybody finding her.

The next morning all hands were astir early. It was a wonderful scene into the midst of which they had penetrated. Through the confused huddle of keys and islets silver-clear channels threaded their way. In them thousands of fish – silvery tarpon, vampire-like devil-fish, big and little sharks, rushed and sported, eating and being eaten in turns. It was fascinating to watch the active submarine life going on about them.

As for the birds, when the sun arose there were great clouds of them sailing across the sky or regarding the adventurers’ preparations for abandoning the Carrier Dove with the greatest interest. Big snowy herons, green herons, rose-colored herons, blue herons, long-legged herons like soldiers on yellow stilts, stood about, sentinel-like on the oyster bars on which they found their daily food. Ducks, coots and cormorants floated about on the placid waters almost as tame as the domestic varieties.

Overhead the sky was almost darkened at times by huge flocks of snowy ibises, their beautiful plumage flashing in the sun as they rose and fell in undulating waves. Gannets, gulls and ospreys hovered about the great fishing grounds of the archipelago and high up in the sky, mere specks against the brilliant blue, sailed on serene pinions the men-of-war hawks and frigate-birds that haunt the Everglades in vast numbers.

Immediately after breakfast the Carrier Dove’s hatch and cabin were locked and the start was made. Frank and Harry in their canoes led the way. Billy Barnes followed, his craft containing the wireless apparatus. The procession was taken up by Ben Stubbs while last of all came Lathrop and old Pork Chops, in whose canoe was loaded the commissariat. Frank and Harry had most of the sections of the Golden Eagle II in their craft, as they wished to keep them under their immediate eye.

All the boys felt a solemn feeling of responsibility – almost of loneliness – creep over them as, after Frank had taken and carefully noted with sextant and horizon the exact bearing of the Carrier Dove’s anchorage, so that they could easily find her again, the start into the unknown began.

“Here’s to the success of the Chester Relief Expedition!” shouted Billy Barnes as after everything had been checked up and found complete the little band dipped their paddles into the water.

The others started to cheer but a sharp order from Frank checked them.

“From now on,” he ordered, “everybody must keep as quiet as possible. We do not know but that eyes and ears unknown to us are even now taking note of our every action.”

And so in silence, save for the steady dip-dip of their paddles the Chester Relief Expedition glided through the wilderness of mangrove keys and blind channels always due east toward the heart of the Everglades.

CHAPTER XV
AN ISLAND MYSTERY

It was an exhilarating sensation, this of being afloat on their own keels and gliding easily among sights so strange and new. On every yellow sand-spit alligators lay sunning themselves and slid into the water with lazy splashes as the expedition shot round points onto them. Sometimes they didn’t even trouble to do this but lay blinking at the canoes as much as to say:

“Hurry up by, and let us get to sleep again.”

“What if they should take it into their heads to attack us?” asked Lathrop of Pork Chops. The boy’s face paled as sometimes the old black, with deliberate defiance as it seemed, steered so close to the alligator bars that the boy could have put out a hand and touched the backs of the monsters.

“Don’ you give ye’self no fuss ’bout dem ’gators ’tacking us, Marse Lathrop,” the old man reassured him, “why, ef I het one ob dem varmints a slap wid dis yar paddle he’d skedaddle so quick yo couldn’ see his trail for hurry – yes, sah.”

The first night’s halt was made at a beautiful little island overgrown thickly with palmetto, bay, water-oak, wild-fig, mastic and other timber. Through the amber water that surrounded it fish of a dozen varieties glided through the brilliantly colored water-grasses, that waved in as great luxuriance as the land-growth. While Pork Chops built a fire and busied himself with getting supper Frank and Harry sat apart and discussed their plans. They intended to select the first available place for the setting up of the Golden Eagle II, and then do a little scouting by aeroplane. Frank knew from report that scattered through the wilderness of the Everglades there are numerous hammocks or small hills, in some cases quite considerable mounds, that would make ideal sites for a central camp. It was not much use speculating on any further method of procedure, however, till they were actually in the Everglades.

While the boys had been busying themselves in this way Ben Stubbs had taken a rifle and strolled off into the jungle in search of one of the wild turkeys whose loud “Keouk-keouks” had apprised him that the bronze beauties were plentiful in the brush. Lathrop and Billy Barnes went fishing with improvised hooks and lines made of stout thread from their toilet-bags.

The two anglers were shouting with delight over a huge reddish colored fish that Lathrop had hooked and drawn to shore, after a struggle in which it seemed that his line must part or he go overboard, when Ben Stubbs returned from his hunting expedition. He carried with him a fine big gobbler that must have weighed fully twenty pounds. While they were all gathered about the beautiful bird admiring the rich, coppery gloss of its feathers, Lathrop, who had been busy disentangling his line from a low-growing bush, gave a sudden yell.

“What’s the matter?” shouted Frank.

The boy came running toward him. His face was white and he held out his right hand for their inspection. On the thumb were two tiny bluish punctures.

There was no need to ask questions. The boy had got a snake bite. The question was, – had a poisonous reptile bitten him?

Lathrop, what with terror and pain from the fever that was coursing through his veins like molten lead, was too terror-stricken to answer Frank’s questions intelligibly. He finally described, however, a snake which they did not doubt was a rattler, – a diamond back, – one of the most deadly pests of the Everglades.

“The medicine chest quick, Harry,” ordered Frank.

The younger boy darted to the canoes and soon returned with the outfit labelled “For Snake Bites.” With quick dexterity Frank had rolled up Lathrop’s sleeve while Harry was getting the remedies, and with a short stick had twisted a handkerchief above the bite so tightly that it was almost buried in the skin. This was to prevent the poison spreading up the arm.

Then, while Lathrop winced with the pain but endured it bravely, Frank slashed two deep cuts in his forearm which bled freely. From the snake-bite outfit Frank rapidly selected some dark-red tablets of permanganate of potassium and rapidly dissolved them in water. By this time Lathrop was in agony. His heart felt as if it was being gripped in a red-hot vise and he had great difficulty in breathing. A strange drowsiness crept over him. Nothing seemed to matter if he could only sleep and forget the pain.

“Leave me alone,” he panted to Frank. “I guess I’d rather die.”

The young leader recognized the seriousness of these symptoms and worked with feverish haste. He fitted a needle onto a hypodermic syringe and seizing a fold of the stricken boy’s skin between his thumb and forefinger he ran the needle almost up to its end in Lathrop’s arm – after having filled the squirt with the permanganate solution. Then, wrapped in blankets, the boy was laid down, while Frank and Harry watched anxiously at his side. After an hour they breathed more freely as Lathrop opened a pair of languid eyes and announced that the pain about his heart had moderated. The next morning he was still so weak, however, that to move him was manifestly impossible.

The boys were in a quandary. They could not leave him and yet time was precious. They must press on. An unexpected solution to the problem was found when Frank and Harry, after spending half a day exploring the little key, announced that they had found a deserted plantation house on the northerly end of it, and that better than that even, there was a quite considerable clearing about the abandoned house that would make an excellent “take off” for the Golden Eagle II. It was decided that night to go to work at once to put the aeroplane together right there and abandon the canoe expedition.

The house that Frank and Harry had found had evidently been long deserted. It was built of clay daubed over plaited branches of the mastic tree and roofed with palmetto leaves. Its door, a queer contrivance of twisted branches and palmetto leaves hung from broken hinges formed by loops of pliable twigs, bent round large crooked sticks set into the frame. All about it stretched a clearing in which apparently the former proprietor had carried on some sort of farming operations. But its condition showed that like the house it had been unused for many years.

“Who do you suppose could have built it?” asked Harry as the boys gazed about them at the dismal scene of desolation and abandonment.

“Some fellow anxious to keep out of the way I should imagine,” put in Ben Stubbs, who was already busy with a mattock clearing up a space of ground on which to begin operations, – for this conversation took place the morning following the boys’ discovery of the hut and the clearing.

“Or maybe a sailor who was marooned here,” put in Billy Barnes.

“Ah, that’s more like it,” commented Ben. “Now I come to think of it, pirates used to be thick in among these yere islands and depend upon it that this place was put up by one of them poor fellows as they had put ashore for some fancied offence or other.”

As if to confirm this theory it was not much later that Billy, poking about the clearing, found way off in one corner, under a huge cabbage-palm, a board stuck at one end of a low mound, evidently a grave.

Billy’s shout at once brought the others clustering about him, and after Ben’s knife had scraped away the mould and dirt with which the years had coated the head-board they read:

“Jem Bristol, – a sailor of the Walrus. Died May 21, 1775. Berried Here by His Ship matz.”

Underneath in smaller letters was cut the inscription:

“He was maruned here for five years been found by us as he was diing. The krew of the Murmade.”

“Poor fellow,” exclaimed Billy, “marooned here for five years, what a fate!”

“I suppose that the Walrus was some sort of a pirate ship?” asked Harry.

“Yes, I think I remember reading somewhere that Captain Flint, a famous sea-rover, called his ship by that name,” chimed in Frank.

“Wall, them fellers from the Mermaid, however they got here, done what they could for the fellow,” commented Ben Stubbs.

“Just the same they only found him when it was too late to do anything for him but bury him,” commented Frank.

It was a good morning’s work transporting the packing cases containing the sections of the air-ship across the island and when it was completed all hands were glad to sit down and partake of a lunch of reef oysters, pilot bread, fried bacon washed down with tablet lemonade prepared by Pork Chops. Lathrop was so far recovered as to be able to drink some oyster broth and after he had taken the nourishment he declared that he felt strong enough to be moved.

The boys had reached the decision that it would be a good plan to transport the entire camp to the clearing and occupy the dead sailor’s house as a more comfortable permanent camp than they could erect themselves. The rest of the day was devoted to putting this idea into execution and carrying Lathrop, in a sort of stretcher made out of one of the canoe-tents and two long branches across the island. The canoes were then poled round the island to a little bay with a shelving beach that cut into the land opposite the new camp which by unanimous consent had been christened Walrus Camp. The little craft were dragged up to a point above tide-water, for the waters about the island were still tidal. That evening, when the lamp was lit and the mouldering house of the maroon neatly swept out and the boys’ possessions all put in place, the young adventurers declared it was as comfortable a dwelling as one could find.

As for Pork Chops, he was fairly delighted with the place.

“Dis am as framjous as any palace I ever did done see,” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands in satisfaction.

“What palaces have you ever seen?” asked Frank quizzingly of the old man.

Pork Chops, with a look of great superiority, replied:

“Ah’s seen palaces an’ palaces. Moren’ you could shak’ a stick at,” he replied indignantly.

The exact location of Pork Chops’ palaces and the eagerly demanded definition of the mysterious word “framjous” was indefinitely postponed by a startling occurrence at this juncture.

Ben Stubbs, who had been sitting by the door almost keeled over. Lathrop in his enfeebled condition set up a startled cry. Even Frank and Harry turned a shade paler. As for Billy his eyes almost popped out of his head. With a loud cry of “Fo’ de Lawd’s sake, spookses!” Pork Chops leaped from beside his stove, upsetting his pots with a loud crash. What had occurred was in fact sufficiently startling considering their lonely surroundings.

Somebody had knocked at the door.

Frank was the first to recover his senses. Revolver in hand he dashed across the floor and flung the door wide open. Eagerly his eyes searched the night but without result.

There was nobody to be seen!

CHAPTER XVI
THE BOYS MAKE AN ACQUISITION

Headed by Ben Stubbs with the lantern the young adventurers rushed after Frank into the open, determined to ascertain if possible the meaning of the strange and startling interruption to their peaceful evening. It was in vain, however, that they searched for any indication of the presence of a human being. In the blackness it was indeed impossible to make more than a cursory examination of the surroundings of the hut.

At daybreak, however, after a restless night, Frank, who had risen as soon as the first gray of dawn made things dimly visible, uttered a cry of surprise from outside the hut. Hastily flinging off their coverings and slipping into their clothes the others ran out.

“Look here,” exclaimed Frank, “what do you make of this?”

He held up a small bottle in which was a bit of red flannel, a chicken feather, some rusty nails and several dried grasshoppers.

“I found it put right to one side of the door sill,” he explained. “How we missed finding it last night I don’t know.”

“What can it mean?” chorused the other boys peering eagerly at the strange object.

“Looks as if some mischievous kid had put it there,” suggested Billy Barnes.

“I don’t think there are likely to be any ’mischievous kids,’ as you call them, about here, Billy,” said Frank with a smile.

“Well, I give it up,” said Harry; “I never was much good at reading riddles.”

“Just let me look at it a moment, shipmate,” put in Ben Stubbs quietly. “I kinder think I have an inkling of what it means.”

He took the bottle and examined it carefully. Then he nodded his head sagely.

“It’s some kind ’er voodoo for certain shu,” exclaimed Pork Chops. “I wouldn’t touch dat lilly bottle fo’ all de money in dis yer worl’.”

“What did you say it was, Pork Chops, you inky pirate?” asked Ben, turning on him.

“Lan’ sakes, don’ snap me up dat er way, Marse Stubbs,” gasped the old negro, “I only said I wouldn’ touch dat bottle. It’s voodoo fo’ shu’.”

“Right you are, my boy,” cried Ben, “only it’s not voodoo; but it’s something very like it. It’s obeah.“

“Obeah!” exclaimed Frank, “what on earth is that, Ben?”

“Why, it’s a form of witchcraft used by the ignorant negroes of the West Indies and Bahama islands,” explained Ben. “It’s meant as a warning to any one on whose doorstep it is placed. In this case, as I take it, it means, ‘Don’t come no further.’”

“Well,” laughed Frank, “it will take more than a bottle of dried bugs and old chicken feathers to make us turn back, and anyway, how comes a West Indian negro here? If it was a Seminole now – ”

“That’s a puzzle to me too,” remarked Ben. “Then Seminoles don’t use nothing like this that ever I heard of. – What’s that?” he broke off suddenly.

The cause of the interruption was a great fluttering of wings from the edge of the clearing and several herons flapped heavily out of the woods.

“There’s someone in there,” cried Frank.

“Right you are, my boy, and I propose that we put an end to this mystery business and find out who it is. Volunteers for the job.”

Of course everyone was anxious to penetrate the mysterious cause of the birds’ flight, which they felt had something to do with the placing of the bottle and the tapping on the door, and a few minutes later, heavily armed and ready for any surprise that might be sprung on them, the little party sallied across the clearing and into the dark mass of forest.

They had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile or so, and Ben Stubbs had remarked that they must have pretty well reached the limits of the island, when there was a great crashing of the dense undergrowth immediately in front of them and a human figure, bent almost double, was seen darting through the brush with the rapidity of a scared rabbit.

“Stop, or we’ll fire,” cried Frank.

But the figure kept on running. Frank was in a quandary. Of course he had not meant to carry out his intention and the fact that the man kept on running put him in an awkward position. They could not kill the man; yet if they did not fire he would escape from them and it was most essential they should capture and question him if it could be done.

Ben Stubbs raised his rifle and leveled it. Frank caught his arm and dragged it down.

“None of that,” he said sharply, “if we can’t get him without shooting him we’ll have to let him get away.”

Ben laughed.

“Don’t git excited, shipmate,” he remarked coolly, “I was only going ter give him a scare. Once more Ben raised his rifle and just as the fugitive was vanishing from view sent a bullet whistling over his head that nicked off several twigs and sent them scattering in a shower on his neck. With a loud screech of terror the fleeing figure flopped down and groveled on the ground.

“I’se a British subjec’.” he yelled, “don’t do me no harm, massa, I’m a subjec’ of the King.”

“Get up, you black rascal,” roared Ben, for by this time they had come up to the groveling figure and saw that he was even blacker than the redoubtable Pork Chops, who had run back to camp at top speed as soon as they had sighted the fugitive.

“Get up,” he went on, “we are United Statesers, and the king won’t do you no good now. Who are you and what do you want around our camp?”

Tremblingly the negro got to his feet. He was a strange figure. A palpable negro he yet wore the garb of a Seminole Indian. His shirt, with its tail flapping outside a pair of buckskin trousers, bright-colored turban, and buckskin moccasins were the customary clothes of the tribe.

“Well,” said Frank, as this nondescript figure stood facing them, beads of perspiration streaming down its face, “what have you got to say for yourself?”

“Snooping around and putting bottles of dessicated bugs on our front stoop,” indignantly cried Billy Barnes.

“I didn’t mean no harm, massa, didn’t really mean no harm at all. Me berry good ole man. Bahama nigger I am.”

“Well, what are you doing here, then?” demanded Ben.

“Don’ shoot me, massa, an’ I tell you eberyt’ing,” sputtered the captive, terrified at Ben’s ferocious expression. Put in more intelligible language than the Bahama negro used his story was this:

Suspected unjustly some years before of having killed the captain of a sponging vessel of which he was one of the crew he had fled into the Everglades to avoid lynching. He had fallen into the hands of a tribe of Seminoles, off on an otter hunt, when he was almost famished and had been treated by them with kindness. In fact so well pleased had he been with his surroundings that he had taken a wife from the tribe and was now one of them.

Several days before the outposts had brought news of the approach of the adventurers into the interior and the Seminoles had at once made preparations to turn them back. The Bahaman, whose name, by the way, he confided was “Quatty,” was singled out as being the best spy they could send inasmuch as he could speak English and would understand the conversation of the strangers. He had landed on the island the afternoon before and when he saw that one of the party was a black conceived the idea of working “obeah” on him. He knew that if the darky was a West Indian, which he suspected, he would really interpret the ominous nature of the sign.

“But why are you so anxious to keep us out?” asked Harry, “we mean no harm to you.”

“Wall, dem ign’nant sabages,” grandiloquently stated Quatty, “has obtained de idea dat you is in some way connected wid some white men what came down in the ’glades tree months ago or so.”

The boys started eagerly.

“Some white men that came into the ’glades?” repeated Frank.

“Yes, massa,” said Quatty, “dot’s de bery meaning I intend to convey.”

“Where are these white men?” demanded Frank and Harry in the same breath.

“Long way from here, far in de ’glades. Dem sabages is werry much scairt of dem,” went on Quatty, “one time dey go near dere camp and some man he throw something make noise like de worl’ he comin’ to an en’ and blow big hole in de groun’.”

“It must be the men we are after,” exclaimed Frank tensely.

“And the stuff they threw was Chapinite,” added Harry.

“Are they still here?” was Frank’s next question. He was keenly afraid of receiving a negative answer, and his voice almost trembled as he spoke.

“Yes, sah, dey’s still here shu nuff,” rejoined Quatty. “We never go near dem since dat day, but all de time we see smoke and at night dere is red flames go up from de island where dey camp. We tink dey debbils for sho’.”

The boys were almost wild with excitement. Even Ben Stubbs’ face lit up at this unexpected good fortune. It meant that instead of wasting days seeking the abductors of Lieutenant Chapin and the stealers of the formula they would be able, if this Bahama negro could guide them, to go direct to the spot after they had laid a plan of campaign.

“Could you guide us to this place, Quatty?” asked Frank.

“Wid de greates’ of ease,” replied the negro, quite proud of the impression he had produced, “but what fo’ yo wan’ to go dere?”

Without telling him too many details of their mission Frank outlined their errand to him and, as it might be important to secure the co-operation of the Seminoles, he told Quatty to reassure them as to the object of the intrusion of the adventurers. After Quatty had been given something substantial for his trouble, from Frank’s bill-roll, he dived into the forest with the promise to return that afternoon with the chief of the tribe. He was positive, he told the boys, that the tribe would have no objection to their presence in the Everglades if they really meant to drive out the men who, as Quatty put it, he and the tribe believed to be “debbils.”

The rest of the morning was spent in getting the field wireless and its lofty pole in position and joining the framework of the Golden Eagle II. With such energy did the boys work that dinner-time was forgotten and by afternoon things had reached a stage where the ship was ready for her golden wing coverings to be laced on. The work of placing the engine and truing it up would have to be left to the next day, for even Frank was not sanguine enough to believe that they could accomplish that difficult task by night or he would have ordered work to go on without a let up.

True to his promise shortly before sundown Quatty reappeared at Walrus Camp with a tall dignified-looking Seminole dressed in the same manner as himself. The Indian could not talk English but Quatty acted as interpreter and the conversation went on swimmingly. The chief, whose name sounded like O-shi-ho-wi, agreed not to molest the boys if they pledged their words not to annoy the tribe or try to spy into their customs. This the boys readily agreed to and the chief then produced a pipe. After gravely taking a whiff he handed it to Ben Stubbs whom he regarded approvingly and Ben in turn, after a puff or two, handed it to the boys.