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, passing 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!

The firm fingers of Smilax had never left my arm, a continuous caution
for silence that I minded well. Ten minutes passed, and the trees had
all but lost their shapes. In another ten minutes the night wholly
enveloped us, and then the black man moved so that his lips were at my
ear, while he barely whispered:

"Me go; noise in camp will help. You wait still like dead; me come back
soon."

I did not attempt to answer, for there was nothing to say. Flanked by
the two sentinels, I was pretty sure to wait, and wait like dead, too.
He began to move then, yet he did not seem to move. But as I