Wings of the Wind Part 29

"Shut up, you clown," the old chief turned on him.

"Clown yourself," the captain snarled. "I'll have you know I won't take any of your lip!"

"Then I back out of our bargain, that's all!"

"If you say that again I'll twist off your palsied head with these two hands," Jess held them under Efaw Kotee's nose and wriggled his fingers, until the old man shrank back, cowering. "The men'll follow me when I tell 'em you play double, an' you know it! You swine, I'm sick of this place! I'm going to take my share of the stuff, an' the girl, an' clear out! It's been fifteen years since we raised these cabins--more'n that!

An' what have we got? Plenty of the slickest money ever printed--an' the other stuff, too--an' you afraid to take a chance. Three times I've stopped a mutiny for you, an' you'd be dead an' buried if I hadn't. Then came this last when things went wrong. You say the girl peached, but 'tween you an' me I say you tried to turn State's evidence--don't deny anything," he held up his hand when the other would have interrupted.

"That's pa.s.sed now. But I've agreed to forget it, to keep the mutinies stopped for keeps--by marrying the girl. You agreed, too. Now you talk of backing out. Is killing too good for you?"

"I don't want to, Jess; I don't, honest," Efaw Kotee said, with a whine.

"But you see yourself how she is! If we rush the place, day or night, she'll kill herself. Tell me what to do, and I'll do it!"

"You've done about all you can for a while," Jess grumbled, adding: "If she don't run away."

"Where'd she run to?" the other sneered.

"Well, some kind friend might show her!"

"You're crazy," the chief contemptuously exclaimed.

"Crazy or not, you just see that she doesn't. Then, if starving three days doesn't bring her, maybe crucifying _you_ head down might do the trick."

"Wha--what d'you mean?" The old fellow sprang around and stared at him, seeming to have grown hollow and gray.

"Oh, nothing," Jess grinned. "Just a little idea I had--worth keeping in mind, though. It might be healthy for you to see she can't run off, that's all."

Efaw Kotee looked at the captain suspiciously, and said:

"I'll guarantee she doesn't run off--and your other little ideas aren't pleasant. Let's go back and have a drink."

When they had entered the bungalow a silence fell over the settlement. I did not see a man anywhere. But I drew a long breath of relief because Sylvia was for a little while safe, even while I raged at the realization of her danger. My body was cramped, and cautiously I stretched my legs. Smilax had not moved.

"It looks like we got here just in time," I whispered. "But what shall we do?"

He relaxed then, and slowly answered:

"Me think 'while. Echochee good old woman; always kind to l'il black boy."

"You know her?" I could hardly have hoped for that stroke of luck.

"Me know all Seminole; not many left. 'Echochee' mean what white man say 'li'l deer.' She old woman when me l'il black boy in Reservation. Me think 'while; you, too."

Schemes of every wild kind, daring and impossible plans of rescue, raced through my brain; seeming reasonable enough at the time, but Smilax quickly found the flaws in each until I had exhausted my supply.

Finally he spoke, and I knew that he spoke with judgment.

"To-night," he said, "we watch and see if they put out guard. Maybe they do, after what Jess said 'bout Lady run off. When dark come, me swim to l'il island and give owl call--two times, then stop soft in middle. Long 'go in Injun village that mean: 'panther, come quick, gun,' Echochee will hear and 'member. Good. Then we talk and fix all up. First we see if Efaw Kotee put out guard."

This was so different, so tame, to the brilliant, suicidal dashes into the thick of rescue and glory--and doubtless destruction--as my plans ran, that I almost felt ashamed. Smilax could neither read nor write; his vocabulary might have been held in the hollow of one's hand, but in many respects he was the sanest creature I ever met.

"Do you suppose Echochee will trust us to get them away?" I whispered.

"If Lady say come, she come," he answered.

This set me thinking, and I decided to write a note that Smilax could deliver. Sylvia might then feel a.s.sured that she was not being abducted by a negro whom Echochee had known only in childhood. But, on second thought, I wondered if she would risk escape with an unknown white man; if she would not rather face the supreme issue, once and for all, than perhaps be forced into it later by an over-zealous stranger! In her distracted state of mind I feared she would find the rescue too precarious--too easily offering the same danger that beset her now, and lacking her present weapon of defense. Yet if she refused to come--what then? I could always rush the camp, if but to die with her. Having gone over these possibilities, I whispered to Smilax:

"She'll come easier if she doesn't know I'm here. Echochee will remember you, and rea.s.sure her. You might tell Echochee that you were hunting this way and saw her beat the chap over the head with the tray.

Understand? After that you saw the rest and realized how much trouble she was in. How about it?"

"Good," he grunted. "That good. To-night me tell Echochee get ready, and to-morrow night we run 'way--maybe to Reservation. But we come by camp and find you; then all work 'round to yacht. Good."

"Well," I demurred, "that isn't the way I meant, for I intend to stay here and help. Some of those devils might get busy!"

"That good, too. Now we eat; then you go sleep."

While tackling our rations we discussed the plan again and again. I did not want to leave Sylvia another night within the grasp of those fiends, but Smilax insisted; explaining that she was practically safe for three days, at any rate. Of course, each twenty-four hours would make her and Echochee weaker from starvation and, as they would need strength, we dared not wait too long. Immediate help from the _Whim_ was all but a forlorn hope. The rescue had come suddenly up to us, and it must be met without a thought of failure.

But as the tiresome afternoon wore on without further incidents to keep us aroused, my fancies drifted from rescues to the rescued; and after a while I whispered:

"I'll take that nap now,"--scarcely hearing him reply:

"Good."

CHAPTER XVI

THE CAVE MAN SETS FORTH

Close to my ear I heard a warning: "Sh!"--at the same time feeling a hand squeeze my arm. It was dusk. While I slept the shadows had lengthened and blended into those soft gray tones of twilight that give mystery to forests of the South. Cautiously I raised my head and, following the tense stare of Smilax, saw the cause of his agitation.

Three men were standing on the larger island, at the spot where Efaw Kotee and Jess had stood, and one held a piece of coiled rope tied to a grappling hook. They were whispering and chuckling. Then he with the iron hook began to swing it back and forth, finally letting it fly across the water into the punt, whereupon they chuckled again. Now they began to haul in the line at a lively rate, doubtless fearing that Echochee, aroused by the noise, would rush out and frustrate them. But the house remained quiet, even dark; and, since the boat's painter was of slim material, there could be only one result when they gave a hard pull--the punt was theirs.

This procedure disturbed Smilax, no less myself. There was deviltry afoot, yet hardly a plan for capturing the girl as other punts were available. But the next moment we breathed easier, for the men broke into a boisterous laugh, and one called:

"Ole hatchet-face, yo're done out-punted this time!"

Another, bending over and slapping his thigh in mirthful ecstasy, guffawed:

"Bill says she's done out-_punted_," whereupon they again laughed, and a third called:

"This here busts yo' chance of makin' a git-away to-night, yer ole she-devil! The chief's on to yer, he is!"

"They expect an escape," I whispered.

Smilax nodded. His face was grave.

Then came a most exasperating moment, when I hugged the ground so close that my body felt no thicker than a playing card. The men, each picking up a rifle, stepped into the punt and paddled to our side. Two of them climbed the bank, one going about a hundred yards to our left, and the other, pa.s.sing within ten feet of us, went the opposite way. We could not follow him with our eyes but knew, by counting his steps, that he stopped at about an equal distance. Then the punt glided back and disappeared behind the little island. Guards! Sentinels! We were trapped, as well as those whom we had come to save!