Sam was helped aboard.

"You can't keep dis n.i.g.g.e.r from his dinner," he grinned. "Dat is, no 'gator can't. Did you see him, Ma.r.s.e Osceola? He was sure a big ol'

feller."

"He sure was, Sam. Reckon he was as surprised as we were when the bunch of us came splashing in on top of him. I was glad to get out of the water, though. It's not my idea of a happy death to form a meal for an alligator. It didn't seem to worry you much. The way you and Bill were holding pleasant conversation out yonder was a temptation to any 'gator or his friends."

"So that's why you asked for help in righting the canoe?" Bill asked.

"You've guessed it. I've got my paddle, and while I collect the other two, I suggest that you clean the guns, Bill. Lucky they were strapped to us." He ripped off the tail of his shirt and pa.s.sed it over. "That will soon dry in the sun, and a gat that shoots is worth somebody else's shirt any day in the week."

"There's one thing about traveling light," admitted Bill, "and especially when your canoe turns over. If you haven't anything to lose, you can't lose it."

"You is forgettin' the grub, suh," chimed in Sam.

"But you clung to that like a hero," grinned Bill. "When we get to wherever we're getting, I'll pin a medal on you, Sam. Just now, I'm out of pins."

"I know you is kiddin' me," returned the darkey, showing his teeth in a wide smile. "Some day mebbe I'll hold you to dat promise, Ma.r.s.e Bill."

"Okay, Sam. Pa.s.s over any hardware you may be toting. I want to clean it."

That night, after, a weary day of paddling, they camped on an island which embraced several miles of dry land. Here Osceola shot a small deer, which they found a welcome change in diet, from the fish-tainted flesh of birds.

"There are just two things queer about this place," remarked Bill as they rested beside the fire after supper.

"What are they?" asked the young Seminole chief.

"In every picture I've ever seen of the Florida swamps, they have snakes hanging in festoons from the trees-great, big fellows. Yet, so far, I haven't seen a single one."

"That's because they don't happen to roost in trees. Not in this state.

That is, except in the artist's imagination. There are plenty of snakes, though-rattlers, moccasins and the like. Never go into high gra.s.s on these islands, or you are not likely to come out alive. What's the other queer thing?"

Bill stretched his arms above his head, and lay back comfortably on the warm earth. "Last night," he yawned, "the mosquitoes nearly drove me crazy. Today there were very few, and tonight, I haven't felt one.

There's been no wind to speak of-they can't have been blown away."

Osceola laughed. "These glades aren't such bad places to live in. They have some advantages. Of course, it is a snake infested wilderness, but there is such a dearth of stagnant water that few breeding places are furnished for insects. You won't find mosquitoes except along the borders. We are well into the interior of the Everglades, now, that's why they've disappeared."

"Three cheers and a tiger," Bill applauded in a sleepy voice. "Good night, everybody-I'm off to bye-bye."

The next three days were counterparts of the first, except that the party met with not a single mishap. Whenever possible they kept to the waterleads, and Bill soon grew sick of the sight of pond lilies. But at times it was necessary to pole their way through the sawgra.s.s. Often the gra.s.s had to be cut away in front, and all three suffered from wounds made by its sharp-toothed edges.

About five o'clock on the fourth day of their journey, they came through half a mile of gra.s.s on to an open lead, free for once from lilies. This led toward a large island, little more than a mile away.

"Well, we're here at last," announced Osceola, as they rested from their labors.

"_Here_ is right-but where?"

"Some of my people live on that island. We'll be-home-in half an hour."

"You certainly are a wonder!" cried his friend. "I never really thought you would be able to locate them in this wilderness."

"If you asks me," broke in Sam, "I says, let's go! I never did think we'd get dis far without bein' cotched back to those workin's. But now, oh boy! Deer meat is all right an' so am bird flesh. But I likes my vittles varied. Too much of a good thing am nothin' more than too much.

Let's go-cause I'm hungry!"

CHAPTER XV-SEMINOLES

The three weary paddlers sent their dugout skimming down the open waterway toward the island. As they approached, Bill saw that Osceola was steering for an encampment that covered about an acre, in a clump of palmettoes near the water. He soon noticed that the dwellings were built of six upright poles, three on a side, and had gabled roofs of palmetto thatch. Later he was to learn that the floors were made of earth, and the main articles of furniture were large tables which nearly filled the interior. On these tables the Indians ate and slept. Usually there were chests that held their clothing and tools and firearms. Barrels and boxes for provisions and, in rare cases, a sewing machine, completed the essentials. An old sheet or blanket is generally hung at one side of the dwelling to keep out the wind and rain.

Soon the inhabitants of this colony began to crowd to the waterside, waving friendly greetings. A few of the men were dressed in store clothes, but most of them seemed to have an antipathy for trousers. The habits of the Seminole are so amphibious, they are in and out of the water all day long, so that they invariably prefer bare legs. The majority were costumed in the old Seminole manner, in knee-length tunics of banded red and yellow, tied with a sash at the waist. The heads of the braves were covered with red bandanna turbans.

The squaws were easily recognizable by their long calico dresses of blue or brown, gaily striped in red and yellow, and they all wore long strings of small beads, usually turquoise and crimson. Silver coins beaten into various designs decorated their head-dresses, and were worn as bracelets and necklets. The elder children were dressed exactly like their parents. The younger ones wore what nature had given them and nothing more.

The canoe drew closer to the bank. Osceola stood up in his place and shouted some words in a strange tongue. Immediately there came a change in the demeanor of the waiting Seminoles. The mild curiosity in the arrival of strangers, turned to shouts of jubilation as they recognized their Chief. The braves rushed into the shallow water, and raised the dugout with its occupants to their shoulders. Amid cries of welcome the men carried their heavy burden up the bank and into the center of the village.

Here Osceola made them a short speech. There was much handshaking, in which both Bill and Sam partic.i.p.ated. Meanwhile, the women rushed off to a circular shed nearby where the cooking for the camp was done. There was a great clattering of pots and pans by the fire, from which logs radiated like the spokes of a wheel, and soon the appetizing odor of food was wafted to the tired travelers' nostrils.

"My people understand and speak English readily enough," Osceola told his friends. "But they like me to speak to them in the mother tongue.

I've informed them that you are my friends, that we are weary and hungry and in need of sleep. Come now, we can make ourselves comfortable while the women prepare us a meal."

"An' whatever it is they's fixin', it sure do smell good-yes, mighty fine to _dis_ heah chile!"

Sam grinned at Bill happily as they followed their host toward a dwelling somewhat larger and apart from the rest.

"Some of dem squaws sure is grand women," chortled Sam, hobbling along in high glee at Bill's side. "Dis is what I likes, Ma.r.s.e Bill-good eatin's plenty of it, and a fine, strong woman to cook an' work for you." He waved at a two hundred pounder, and when the squaw waved back, he deliberately closed one rolling black eye in a wink.

"Why, you old rascal!" Bill broke into a shout of laughter. "I thought you told me you had a wife and family somewhere!"

Sam shook his woolly pate in mock pathos. "Done had, Ma.r.s.e Bill, done had. My ole woman b'leeve I'm dead years ago. If she's alive she's married, dat am certain. Liza were a sure goodlooker an' a fine cook-an'

dat kind never am neglected-not for long anyhow."

"Take my advice and stop flirting with the Seminole squaws, just the same, or some brave will bounce a tomahawk off that skull of yours."

Sam spread his palms upward in a gesture of apology. "'Tain't my fault, Ma.r.s.e Bill, really it ain't."

"Whose then?"

"It's de wimmen, Ma.r.s.e Bill."

"How do you make that out?"

Sam chuckled and brought his head near Bill's.

"They's always a-botherin' the goodlookin' men," he whispered.

Osceola, who had the ears of a cat, turned and winked at the old darkey.