gures surrounding them. They heard a
guttural exclamation and words exchanged in a strange, harsh tongue.

"Indians, blow me!" hoarsely whispered Joe, his throat sore and swollen.

"Comrade ahoy!" croaked Jack. "No pirates these, but Yemassees. Do they
save us for the torture?"

"God knows. 'Tis a sorry mischance as ever was. I'd sooner meet up with
Blackbeard's ghost. Are ye badly hurt?"

"Like a man hanged by the neck, Joe, but no mortal wounds. Had we minded
Uncle Peter we would be safe in the sloop by now. One more day of
hunting that filthy treasure undid us."

The half dozen Yemassees squatted about them, talking in low tones, and
offered no further violence. Presumably they were waiting for daybreak,
having conveyed their prisoners beyond all chance of rescue. The two
lads shivered with fear and weariness. They were bruised and breathless
and the thongs which tightly bound their wrists made their arms ache
intolerably. Bitter was the regret at invading this baleful Cherokee
swamp when they might have remained safe from all harm in pleasant
Charles Town.

Sadly they watched the eastern sky grow brighter while the gloom of the
desolate swamp turned wan and gray. The Indian captors became visible,
brown, half-naked men wearing leggings and breech-clouts of tanned
deerskin. Two of them carried muskets. They were not made hideous by
war-paint, as Jack Cockrell was quick to note. He said to his companion:

"A hunting party, Joe. They were spying on our camp, like enough, or
keeping watch of the pirates. No doubt they wonder why white men come to
fight one another in the swamp."

"They will wish to find out from us," was the hopeful reply. "They seem
a deal more curious than bloodthirsty. A stout heart, say I, and we may
weather it yet."

Soon the lads were roughly prodded ahead and went stumbling and
splashing through the marshy verdure and slippery ooze until they came
to higher ground and easier walking. Upon this ridge they descried the
camp of the Yemassees--huts fashioned of poles and bark and boughs, a
freshly killed deer hanging from a tree, smoke rising from beneath a
huge iron kettle, plump, naked children scampering in play with several
barking dogs, the squaws shrilly scolding them. Several warriors lazily
emerged from the huts, yawning, brushing the long black hair from their
eyes.

They moved more actively at perceiving the procession which approached
from the swamp. Two or three ran back to th