n Death. Me think maybe
find 'em there."

"Death river's a good place for that old scoundrel to hang out," I
agreed. "How far?"

"Maybe fifteen mile, maybe ten, maybe twenty; no can say. We see."

"By the way, Smilax, how do you say 'damn old scoundrel' in Seminole?"

He raised his head and appreciatively grinned, answering:

"Hal-wak esta-had-kee, mean 'bad white man.'"

"That's neither bad nor short enough. What else?"

"Host-cope-e-taw, mean thief."

"Good but too long. I want something I can remember; to christen him,
understand? What's your shortest word?"

"Shee."

"That's more like it. What's 'shee' mean?"

"Feathers."

"But, hell, Smilax," I burst out laughing, "there'd be no sense in
calling him feathers!"

"Efaw," he said again, "mean dog; kotee, toad; chesshe, rat. Maybe him
dog-toad-rat!"

"That only begins to be him," I declared, with the same glorious
contempt for pronouns. "In the prospective waters of Death river I
christen him Efaw Kotee, the dog-toad!"--But in my heart I offered an
apology to the canine family, many of whose sons and daughters have been
among my most loyal friends.

"We go; maybe find him," the black giant grinned again, bending backward
to get his shoulders beneath the ropes and then straightening up as
though two, and not two hundred, pounds of weight came with him.

I walked quickly out to the point and took one more look, a searching,
lingering look across the green water. Nowhere was the _Whim_, nowhere
even a speck of sail or any other craft. Except for a pelican of sober
mien, rising and falling with the waves, the Gulf seemed barren of any
life. But something told me that the yacht was safe.

A scrub jay, in a near-by thicket of mangroves, mocked my solitude with
a raucous note; yet it gave me heart, for I saw in it the call of the
land and knew that thoughts of the _Whim_ must be put aside. So I went
back to Smilax, and together we strode through the fringe of palms into
a shadowy jungle; our faces set toward a mysterious place, unknown to
us, where Death river meets the sea.

CHAPTER XIV

SMILAX BRINGS NEWS

Intuitively I dropped behind and walked at the heels of Smilax who, as
if he were treading a well-defined trail instead of unknown jungle land,
moved with a free stride that challenged my endurance. Clinging vines
pulled at my clothes as things alive, causing both noise and annoyance.
Silence was a virtue on our present expedition.

Af