"It's the durned'st fightin' I ever heard on," said he to himself; "first it's here, then it's there, and then it ain't nowhere, till it breaks out all over again, where it was before, and they're as far off the end as I am from Greenland. Durn it, I never knowed nothin' like it."

On his return to Tampa, he found the country around altogether deserted.

Most of the buildings and the planter's house had been destroyed, even his own wretched hut had been burnt to the ground.

"This is what they call the fortun' of war, I 'spose?" he remarked, as he stood gazing at the ruins. "Wal, it war a ramshackle, crazy ole shanty anyhow, and I allers despised four walls an' a roof at the best o' times--still it war 'home.' Pshaw!" he added, after a moment's silence, "what have I to grow molloncholly about, over sich a place as this--calling it 'home,' when I still have the Savannas to hunt over an'

sleep upon. If thar's such a place as home for me that's it, and no other."

For all his stoicism, the old hunter sighed as he turned from the blackened spot which marked the site of his former dwelling.

He paused at the bend of the road, where Crookleg had first met Nelatu, to gaze again at his ruined home. Not only paused, but sat down upon the self-same rail that the negro had perched upon, and from gazing upon it, fell to reflecting.

So absorbed was he in his contemplation, that contrary to his usual custom, he took no note of the time, nor once removed his eyes from the subject of his thoughts.

He did not perceive the approach of a danger.

It came in the form of four individuals who had silently and stealthily crept close to the spot where he was sitting. Before he knew of their proximity, he was their prisoner.

"Red-skins!" he exclaimed, struggling to free himself.

His captors smiled grimly at his vain efforts.

"By the eternal! I'm fixed this time! Darn my stupid carcase for not havin' eyes set in the back o' my head. Wal, you may grin, old copper-skins, it's your turn now--maybe, it'll be mine next. What are you a-doin' now?"

Without deigning a reply the Indians bound his arms securely behind him.

That done they made signs to him to follow them.

"Wal, gentlemen!" said Cris, "yur about as silent a party as a man might wish to meet, darn me, if you aint. I'm comin'."

"Much obleeged to you for your escort, which I ked a done without.

Thanks to your red-skin perliteness for nothin'. Go ahead, I kin walk without your helpin' me. Where are ye bound for?"

"To the chief," answered one of the men.

"The chief! What chief?"

"Wacora."

Cris uttered an emphatic oath.

"Wacora, eh? If that's the case, I reckon the days o' Cris Carrol air drawin' to a close. The fiercest and most 'vengeful cuss of them all, I've heard say. Lead on, I'll go along with ye willin, but not cheerful. If they kill me like a man I'll not tremble in a jint; but if it's the torture--there, go ahead. Don't keep the party waitin'."

Brave heart, as he was, he followed them with as bold and free a step to what he believed to be his death, as if alone, and at liberty on the Savanna.

The Indians without exchanging a word, either among themselves or with him, proceeded in the direction of Oluski's town.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

DEATH AT THE STAKE.

At night they encamped in the forest.

Lighting no fires, lest the light might betray them to their enemies, they produced from their packs some dried meat and meal cake.

Cris did full justice to the humble fare, although he made rather a wry face at the gourd of spring water with which he was invited by his captors to wash down the frugal repast.

Mastering his aversion, he, however, managed to swallow a few mouthfuls.

Supper over, two of his captors wrapped themselves up in their blankets, and immediately fell asleep. The other two remained awake, watching him.

Carrol saw that any attempt to escape under the eyes of two Indians would be idle.

One he might have coped with, even unarmed as he was. Two would be more than a match for him, and he knew that on the slightest alarm the sleeping men would awake, making it four to one.

With the philosophy of a stoic he threw himself upon the ground, and also fell asleep.

He awoke once in the night to find that his guard had been changed.

There was no better prospect of freedom than before.

"Dura them! they're bound to fix me, I kin see that plain enough.

Besides, with these 'tarnal all-fired thongs cuttin' into my elbows, what could I do?"

Apparently nothing, for with a muttered curse at his own stupidity, he again composed himself to slumber.

With the dawn of morning Cris Carrol and his captors continued their journey.

They made no other halt before reaching the town.

Carrol in vain tried to draw from them the reason of their unexpected presence at so great a distance from the residence of the tribe.

They gave him no satisfaction.

He discovered, however, that whatever errand they had been sent on, they had failed in accomplishing it, and his own capture began to be considered by him as a peace offering with which they intended to mollify Wacora's wrath at their want of success in the mission with which they had been charged.

"Wal," reflected he, "I suppose I'm in some poor devil's place; perhaps I mout take more pleasure in doing him this good turn if I only knowed who he is. No doubt he's got some folks as 'ud grieve over him, but there ain't a many as will fret over Cris Carrol, not as I know on--yes, all right! go ahead. Let's go whar glory waits us, ye catawampous scamps, you. Ah! four to one; if it had been two to one, or, at a pinch, three to one, I'd have tried it on, if it had cost me all I've got, and that's my life--yah! it's almost enough to make one turn storekeeper to think on't."

Unmoved by the taunts and jeers which Cris liberally bestowed upon them during the journey, the Indians continued to watch him narrowly.

It was about mid-day when they arrived at their destination.

On entering the Indian town Carrol was thrust into one of the houses, where he was left to await the order of Wacora as to his final disposition. Four guards were kept over him, two inside the house, the other two without.

He expected immediate death, but he was left undisturbed for the rest of the day, and at night received some supper, consisting of dried meat, bread, and water. He was then permitted to pa.s.s the hours till morning as seemed best to him.

The hunter soon arranged his plans. He wrapped the blanket that had been given him around his body, and in a few moments was in a sound slumber.