No: this question could at once be answered in the negative. It was well-known that the contrary was the case--for in this year the Seminoles were without even their usual supply. Their removal had been urged in the spring; and, in consequence of the doubtful prospect before them, many had planted little--some not at all. The crop, therefore, was less than in ordinary years; and previous to the final council at Fort King, numbers of them had been both buying and begging food from the frontier citizens.

What likelihood, then, of finding subsistence throughout a long campaign? They would be starved out of their fortresses--they must come out, and either stand fight, or sue for peace. So people believed.

This topic was discoursed as we rode along. It was one of primary interest to all young warriors thirsting for fame--inasmuch as, should the enemy determine to pursue so inglorious a system of warfare, where were the laurels to be plucked? A campaign in the miasmatic and pestilential climate of the swamps was more likely to yield a luxuriant crop of cypresses.

Most hoped, and hence believed, that the Indians would soon grow hungry, and shew themselves in a fair field of fight.

There were different opinions as to the possibility of their subsisting themselves for a lengthened period of time. Some--and these were men best acquainted with the nature of the country--expressed their belief that they could. The old alligator-hunter was of this way of thinking.

"Thuv got," said he, "that ere durned brier wi' the big roots they calls 'c.o.o.nty' [_Smilax pseudo-china_]; it grows putty nigh all over the swamp, an' in some places as thick as a cane-brake. It ur the best o'

eatin', an' drinkin' too, for they make a drink o' it. An' then thar's the acorns o' the live-oak--them ain't such bad eatin', when well roasted i' the ashes. They may gather thousands of bushels, I reckon.

An' nixt thar's the cabbidge in the head o' the big palmetter; thet ere'll gi' them greens. As to their meat, thar's deer, an' thar's bar-- a good grist o' them in the swamp--an' thares allaygatur, a tol'ably goodish wheen o' them varmint, I reckon--to say nothin o' turtle, an'

turkey, an' squirrels an' snakes, an' sandrats, for, durn a red skin! he kin eat anythin' that crawls--from a punkin to a polecat. Don't you b'lieve it, fellars. Them ere Injuns aint a gwine to starve, s'easy as you think for. Thu'll hold out by thar teeth an' toe-nails, jest so long as thar's a eatable thing in the darnationed swamp--that's what thu'll do."

This sage reasoning produced conviction in the minds of those who heard it. After all, the dispersed enemy might not be so helpless as was generally imagined.

The march of the volunteers was not conducted in a strict military style. It was so commenced; but the officers soon found it impossible to carry out the "tactics." The men, especially the younger ones, could not be restrained from occasionally falling out of the lines--to help themselves to a pull out of some odd-looking flask; and at intervals one would gallop off into the woods, in hopes of getting a shot at a deer or a turkey he had caught a glimpse of through the trees.

Reasoning with these fellows, on the part of their officers, proved rather a fruitless affair; and getting angry with them was only to elicit a sulky rejoinder.

Sergeant Hickman was extremely wroth with some of the offenders.

"Greenhorns!" he exclaimed; "darnationed greenhorns! let 'em go on at it. May a allaygatur eet me, if they don't behave diff'rent by-'m-by.

I'll stake my critter agin any hoss in the crowd, that some o' them ere fellars'll get sculped afore sundown; durned if they don't."

No one offered to take the old hunter's bet, and fortunately for them, as his words proved prophetic.

A young planter, fancying himself as safe as if riding through his own sugar-canes, had galloped off from the line of march. A deer, seen browsing in the savanna, offered an attraction too strong to be resisted.

He had not been gone five minutes--had scarcely pa.s.sed out of sight of his comrades--when two shots were heard in quick succession; and the next moment, his riderless horse came galloping back to the troop.

The line was halted, and faced in the direction whence the shots had been heard. An advance party moved forward to the ground. No enemy was discovered, nor the traces of any, except those exhibited in the dead body of the young planter, that lay perforated with a brace of bullets just as it had fallen out of the saddle.

It was a lesson--though an unpleasant one to his comrades--and after this, there were no more attempts at deer-stalking. The man was buried on the spot where he lay, and with the troop more regularly and compactly formed--now an easier duty for its officers--we continued the march unmolested, and before sunset were within the stockade of the fort.

CHAPTER SIXTY TWO.

A KNOCK ON THE HEAD.

Excepting the memory of one short hour, Fort King had for me no pleasant reminiscences. There had been some new arrivals in my absence, but none of them worthy of companionship. They only rendered quarters more crowded, and accommodation more difficult to obtain. The sutlers and the blacklegs were rapidly making their fortunes; and these, with the quartermaster, the commissary [Note 1], and the "beef-contractor,"

appeared to be the only prosperous men about the place.

The "beau" was still chief aide-de-camp, gaily caparisoned as ever; but of him I had almost ceased to think.

It was not long before I was ordered upon duty--almost the moment after my arrival--and that, as usual, of a disagreeable kind. Before I had time to obtain a moment's rest after the long ride--even before I could wash the road-dust from my skin--I was summoned to the head-quarters of the commander-in-chief.

What could he want with me, in such hot haste? Was it about the duels?

Were these old scores going to be reckoned up?

Not without some apprehension did I betake myself into the presence of the general.

It proved however, to be nothing concerning the past; though, when I learned the duty I was to perform, I half regretted that it was not a reprimand.

I found the agent closeted with the commander-in-chief. They had designed another interview with Omatla and "Black Dirt." I was merely wanted as an interpreter.

The object of this fresh interview with the chiefs was stated in my hearing. It was to arrange a plan for concerted action between the troops and the friendly Indians, who were to act as our allies against their own countrymen; the latter--as was now known by certain information--being collected in large force in the "Cove of the Ouithlacoochee." Their actual position was still unknown; but that, it was confidently hoped, would be discovered by the aid of the friendly chiefs, and their spies, who were constantly on the run.

The meeting had been already pre-arranged. The chiefs--who, as already stated, had gone to Fort Brooke, and were there living under protection of the garrison--were to make a secret journey, and meet the agent and general at an appointed place--the old ground, the hommock by the pond.

The meeting had been fixed for that very night--as soon as it should be dark enough to hide the approach of both tempters and traitors.

It was dark enough almost the moment the sun went down--for the moon was in her third quarter, and would not be in the sky until after sunset.

Shortly after twilight, therefore, we three proceeded to the spot--the general, the agent, and the interpreter, just as we had done on the former occasion.

The chiefs were not there, and this caused a little surprise. By the noted punctuality with which an Indian keeps his a.s.signation, it was expected they would have been on the ground, for the hour appointed had arrived.

"What is detaining them? What can be detaining them?" mutually inquired the commissioner and general.

Scarcely an instant pa.s.sed till the answer came. It came from afar, and in a singular utterance; but it could be no other than a reply to the question--so both my companions conjectured.

Borne upon the night-breeze was the sound of strife--the sharp cracking of rifles and pistols; and distinctly heard above all, the shrill _Yo-ho-ehee_.

The sounds were distant--away amid the far woods; but they were sufficiently distinct to admit of the interpretation, that a life-and-death struggle was going on between two parties of men.

It could be no feint, no false alarm to draw the soldiers from the fort, or terrify the sentinel on his post. There was an earnestness in the wild treble of those shrill cries, that convinced the listener that human blood was being spilled.

My companions were busy with conjectures. I saw that neither possessed a high degree of courage, for that is not necessary to become a general.

In my warlike experience, I have seen more than one hiding behind a tree or piece of a wall. One, indeed, who was afterwards elected the chief of twenty millions of people, I have seen skulking in a ditch to screen himself from a stray shot, while his lost brigade, half a mile in the advance, was gallantly fighting under the guidance of a sub-lieutenant.

But why should I speak of these things here? The world is full of such heroes.

"It is they, by --," exclaimed the commissioner. "They have been waylaid; they are attacked by the others; that rascal Powell for a thousand!"

"It is extremely probable," replied the other, who seemed to have a somewhat steadier nerve, and spoke more coolly. "Yes, it must be.

There are no troops in that direction; no whites either--not a man. It must therefore be an affair among the Indians themselves; and what else than attack upon the friendly chiefs? You are right, Thompson; it is as you say."

"If so, general, it will be of no use our remaining here. If they have waylaid Omatla, they will of course have superior numbers, and he must fall. We need not expect him."

"No; he is not likely to come, neither he nor l.u.s.ta. As you say, it is idle for us to remain here. I think we may as well return to the fort."

There was a moment's hesitation, during which I fancied both generals were debating in their own minds whether it would be _graceful_ thus to give up their errand and purpose.

"If they should come,"--continued the soldier.

"General," said I, taking the liberty to interrupt him, "if you desire it, I will remain upon the ground for a while, and see. If they should come," I added, in continuation of the broken sentence, "I can proceed to the fort, and give you notice."