THE BOYS IN A SEMINOLE CAMP.
Although Ul-we started out from the slough that had proved such a haven
of safety in one direction, he quickly found cause to change it for
another. This cause was the lameness of the boys, for their blistered
feet felt as though parboiled, and each step was so painful that it
seemed as if they could not take another. They were also faint for want
of food, and exhausted by their recent terrible experience. The young
Indian was also suffering greatly. The moccasins had been burned from
his feet, and the act of walking caused him the keenest pain; but no
trace of limp or hesitation betrayed it, nor did he utter a murmur of
complaint.
He had intended leading them directly to their own camp; but that
was miles away, and seeing that they would be unable to reach it in
their present condition, he changed his course towards a much nearer
place of refuge. He soon found that to get Worth even that far he must
support and almost carry him. As for Sumner, he clinched his teeth,
and mentally vowing that he would hold out as long as the barefooted
Indian, he strode manfully along behind the others with his gun, which
he had retained through all their struggles, on his shoulder.
In this way, after an hour of weary marching, they entered a live-oak
hammock, into which even the fierce forest fire had not been able
to penetrate. Here they were soon greeted by a barking of dogs that
announced the presence of some sort of a camp. It was that of the
Seminole party which had been detailed to conduct our explorers across
the Everglades, and act as guards about their halting-places. There
were about twenty men in this party, and as they had brought their
women and children with them, and had erected at this place a number of
palmetto huts, the camp presented the aspect of a regular village. Poor
Worth had just strength enough to turn to Sumner, with a feeble smile,
and say, "At last we are going to see one," when he sank down, unable
to walk another step.
A shout from Ul-we brought the inmates of the camp flocking to the
spot. Both the boys were tenderly lifted in strong arms and borne to
one of the huts, where they were laid on couches of skins and blankets.
They were indeed spectacles calculated to move even an Indian's heart
to pity. Their clothing was in rags, while their faces, necks, and
hands were torn by the saw-palmettoes through which they had forced
their way. Worth was found to have received several cuts from the
sharp hoofs of the wounded deer, and he was blood-stained from head to
foot. Besides this, they were begrimed with smoke and soot until their
original color had entirely disappeared. They were water-soaked and
plastered with mud and ashes. Certainly two more forlorn and thoroughly
wretched-looking objects had never been seen there, or elsewhere, than
were our canoemates at that moment.
But no people know better how to deal with just such cases than the
Indians into whose hands the boys had so fortunately fallen, and within
an hour their condition was materially changed for the better. Their
soaked and ragged clothing had been removed, they had been bathed in
hot water and briskly rubbed from head to foot. A salve of bear's
grease had been applied to their cuts and to their blistered feet,
which latter were also bound with strips of cotton-cloth. Each was clad
in a clean calico shirt of gaudy colors and fanciful ornamentation.
Each had a gay handkerchief bound about his head, and a pair of loose
moccasins drawn over his bandaged feet. Each was also provided with a
red blanket which, belted about the waist and hanging to the ground,
took the place of trousers.
Thus arrayed, and sitting on bear-skin couches, with a steaming sofkee
kettle and its great wooden spoon between them, it is doubtful if
their own parents would have recognized them. For all that they were
very comfortable, and by the way that sofkee was disappearing, it was
evident that their appetites at least had suffered no injury. They
at once recognized sofkee from Quorum's description. They also knew
the history of the wooden spoon; but just now they were too hungry to
remember it, or to care if they did.
At length, when they had almost reached the limit of their capacity
in the eating line, and began to find time for conversation, Worth
remarked, meditatively:
"I believe, after all, that I like fishing better than hunting. There
isn't so much excitement about it, but, on the whole, I think it is
more satisfactory."
"Fishing for what?" laughed Sumner. "For bits of meat, with a wooden
spoon, in a Seminole sofkee kettle, and looking so much like an Indian
that your own father would refuse to recognize you?"
"If I thought I looked as much like an Indian as you do I would never
claim to be a white boy again," retorted Worth.
"I only wish that I could hold a mirror up in front of you," replied
Sumner; and then each was so struck by the comical appearance of the
other that they laughed until out of breath; while the stolid-faced
Seminole boys, stealthily staring at them from outside the hut,
exchanged looks of pitying amazement.
After this, Sumner still further excited the wonder of the young
Indians by performing several clever sleight-of-hand tricks, while
Worth regretted his inability to dance a clog for their benefit. Then
calling Ul-we into the hut, Sumner presented him with his shot-gun,
greatly to the "Tall One's" satisfaction. Worth was distressed that he
had nothing to give the brave young fellow; but brightened at Sumner's
suggestion that perhaps Ul-we would go with them to Cape Florida, where
Mr. Manton would be certain to present him with some suitable reward
for his recent service.
When Ul-we was made to comprehend what was wanted of him, he explained
that it would be impossible to go with them then, but that he would
meet them at Cape Florida on any date that they might fix. So Sumner
fixed the date as the first night of the next new moon, and Worth
added a request that he should bring with him all the occupants of the
present camp, which he promised to do, if possible.
Although the boys had no idea of where they were, they felt confident
that somehow or other they would be able to keep the appointment thus
made, and also that the Mantons' yacht would be on hand about the same
time. They tried to find out from Ul-we how far they were from Cape
Florida at the present moment; but he, having received orders not to
afford any member of Lieutenant Carey's party the slightest information
regarding the country through which they were passing, pretended not to
understand the boys' questions, and only answered, vaguely, "Un-cah" to
all of them.
By this time the day was nearly spent, and it was sunset when the boys'
own clothes were returned to them, dried, cleaned, and with their rents
neatly mended by the skilful needles of the Seminole squaws. Then Ul-we
said he was ready to take them to their own camp, and though they
would gladly have stayed longer in this interesting village, the boys
realized that they ought to relieve Lieutenant Carey's anxiety as soon
as possible. So they expressed their willingness to accompany Ul-we,
but hoped that the walk would not be a long one.
"No walk," replied Ul-we, smiling. "Go Injun boat. Heap quick."
Accompanied by half the camp, and shouting back, "Heep-a-non-est-cha,"
which they had learned meant good-bye, to the rest, they followed their
guide a short distance to the head of a narrow ditch that had evidently
been dug by the Indians. Here they entered Ul-we's canoe, and after a
few minutes of poling they realized, in spite of the darkness, that
they were once more on the edge of the Everglades.
After skirting the forest line for some time, they turned sharply into
a stream that entered it, and again the boys found themselves borne
rapidly along on a swift current through a cypress belt. An hour later
they saw the glow of a camp-fire through the trees, and their canoe was
directed towards it. Stepping out as the canoe slid silently up to the
bank, the boys, wishing to surprise their friends, stole softly in the
direction of the circle of firelight. On its edge they paused.
At one side of the fire sat Lieutenant Carey, looking worn and haggard;
Quorum stood near him, gazing into the flames with an expression of the
deepest dejection, while the sailor, looking very solemn, was toasting
a bit of fresh meat on the end of a stick.
"No," they heard the Lieutenant say, "I can't conceive any hope that
they have escaped, for the only traces that I found of them led
directly towards the fire. How I can ever muster up courage to face
Mrs. Rankin or meet the Mantons with the news of this tragedy, I don't
know."
"Hit's a ter'ble t'ing, sah. Ole Quor'm know him couldn' do hit."
"Then it's lucky you won't have to try!" exclaimed Sumner, joyously,
stepping into sight, closely followed by Worth.
"Oh, you precious young rascals! You villains, you!" cried the
Lieutenant, springing to his feet, and seizing the boys by the
shoulders, as though about to shake them. "How dared you give us such a
fright? Where have you been?"
"Out deer-hunting, sir," answered Sumner, demurely.
Quorum was dancing about them, uttering uncouth and inarticulate
expressions of joy; while the sailor, having dropped his meat into the
fire, where it burned unheeded, gazed at them in speechless amazement.
They told their story in disjointed sentences, from which their hearers
only gathered a vague idea that they had killed a deer in the burning
forest, been rescued from the flames by an Indian, and borne in his
arms to a Seminole village in the Everglades, from which, by some
unseen means, they had just come.
[Illustration: SUMNER AND WORTH IN THE SEMINOLE CAMP.]
"I'll bring him up, and he can tell you all about it himself,"
concluded Sumner, turning towards the landing-place, to which the
Lieutenant insisted on accompanying him, apparently not willing to
trust him again out of sight.
But neither Ul-we nor his canoe was there. He had taken advantage of
the momentary confusion to disappear, and the Lieutenant said he was
thankful their canoes had not disappeared at the same time.
When they returned to the fire, they found Quorum hard at work cooking
venison steaks.
"Then you did get a deer, sir, after all?" queried Sumner.
"No, I only wounded one, and he escaped. This fellow was one of a herd
that, terrified by the fire, came crashing right into camp, and was
shot by the sailor."
"That's the way I shall hunt hereafter," exclaimed Worth--"stay quietly
and safely in camp, and let the game come to me!"