n they started he had talked magnificently of
alligators and bears.

Carl laughed and relapsed into brooding silence.

A little later on the Sherrill porch he found himself listening with
tired patience to Aunt Agatha's opinion of camping in the Everglades.

"What with your Esquimaux," she puffed tearfully, "and the immigrant
who wasn't an immigrant--and I must say this once, Carl, for all I
promised to ask no further questions, that you never attempted to
explain that performance to my satisfaction--the young man with the
eye, you know, and the immigrant with his feet on the lace spread--to
say nothing at all of Diane's losing herself in the flat-woods over a
cart wheel of flame, I wonder I'm not crazy, I do indeed! And riding
off to Jacksonville with the Indian girl, for all I've lain awake night
after night seeing her scalp lying by the roadside! It was bad enough
to have you in those horrible Glades, but Diane--"

"Aunt Agatha," said Carl patiently, "what in thunder are you driving at
anyway?"

"Why," said Aunt Agatha in aggrieved distress, "Diane's gone and left
Johnny at some funny little hamlet and she's gone into the Everglades
to a Seminole village with the Indian girl. There's a letter in my
room. You can read for yourself."

Aunt Agatha burst into tears. Carl patiently essayed a comforting word
of advice and followed Dick indoors to seek relief in less calamitous
showers. Before he did so, however, he read his cousin's letter.

For that night and the night following Carl did not sleep. On the
morning of the third day, after a careless inquiry he went to West Palm
Beach and interviewed some traders who were reported to be on the eve
of an expedition into the Everglades with a wagonload of scarlet calico
and beads to trade for Indian products.

The fourth day he was missing.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

IN PHILIP'S WIGWAM

For hours now, Carl had lain hidden in the waist-high grass, staring at
the Seminole camp. The sun had set in a wild red glory in the west,
staining dank pool and swamp with the color of blood. The twilight
came and with it the eerie hoot of the great owls whirring by in the
darkness. Unseen things crept silently by. Once a great winged wraith
of ghostly white flapped by with a croak, a snowy heron, winging like a
shape of Wrath Incarnate, above the crouching man in the grass. The
wheel fires of the Seminoles flared among the live oaks, silhouetting
dusky figures and palm