Seloy should be called "San Augustin," which
name it bears to this day, and that the River of Dolphins should be
thereafter known as the "San Augustin River."

When the bewildered chief of the Seloy Indians found that these strange
white men were about to destroy his village, he made a bitter protest
against their cruelties; but he was no more regarded than if he had
been a barking dog. They would have killed him, but he gathered
together a few of his chosen warriors, and with them fled for
protection to his white friend Laudonniere, at Fort Caroline, which
place he reached the next day.

He had some difficulty in gaining admittance to the fort, for since its
attack by the Seminoles its garrison were suspicious of all Indians,
and had it not been for Rene de Veaux he would have been driven away.
Rene happened to be near the gate when the sentinel challenged the
newcomers, and recognizing the good old chief who had been so kind to
him, and whom he knew to be a friend of his uncle, ordered the sentry
to admit these Indians, at the same time pledging his own word for
their good faith.

When Rene learned the importance of the tidings brought by these
fugitives, he at once conducted the chief to Laudonniere, on whom the
fever still retained such a hold as to confine him to his room.

The poor old chief told his pitiful tale to Laudonniere, and begged his
powerful aid in driving away these wicked white men, who had treated
him so differently from all others who had landed at his village.
Promising to do what he could, Laudonniere at once despatched a
messenger down the river to Admiral Ribault, who had returned with his
ships and again lay at anchor beyond the bar.

In answer came an order for all the fighting men of Fort Caroline to
join the fleet immediately, as the admiral proposed to sail southward
and attack these impudent Spaniards ere they had time to erect
fortifications, or so strengthen their position that to attack it would
be useless.

Then came a time of tremendous bustle and excitement within the fort.
There were men hurrying hither and thither gathering their weapons,
women and children screaming and crying--for many of these had been
brought out with the new colonists--and dogs barking.

Rene de Veaux begged his uncle to permit him to accompany the fighting
men, but Laudonniere said "No," that the order did not include boys,
and he could be of greatest service by remaining within the fort.

So the f