w 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 assured that she was not being abducted
by a negro whom Echochee had known only in chil