, and casting off the painter took his seat in the stern. Then he
paused for one last look around before dipping his paddle.

Away in the distance a moving speck on the water caught his eye. For a
few minutes he watched it in suspense, then gave a cheer of delight.

It was the captain's canoe.

CHAPTER XXII.

DISAPPOINTMENT.

As the speck drew nearer all doubt vanished, it was the captain's canoe
with the old sailor himself in the stern paddling with slow, weary
strokes.

Walter's cheer had brought forth his companions from the wigwam, and
all now gathered on the bank to welcome the wanderer.

Slowly the canoe drew in to the shore, and Walter at last was able to
catch the painter and haul the light craft's bow up on the sand. Its
occupant sat still in the stern unable to move. His clothes were
stained and tattered, his hands torn and bleeding from many scratches,
and his pale, haggard face told of hardship and suffering.

"Don't look scairt, lads," he called out cheerily, "I ain't hurt none;
jes' scratched up a bit, an' powerful tired. I reckon you'll have to
give me a hand to get me out. I'm cramped that bad I can't move a leg."

Walter and Chris flew to the old sailor's help and between them
assisted him out of the canoe and up into the wigwam. Then Chris
quickly kindled a fire and soon presented the weary man with a gourd of
steaming coffee and the cold food which Walter hastened to bring from
the canoe.

The captain ate like one famished, while the boys stood around eager to
hear his story.

"I'll spin my yarn as soon as I've rested a hit, lads," he said, as he
finished the last morsel of food. "I'm clean spent, now, and want to
stretch out for a while."

The boys helped him up and onto his bed, which he had no sooner touched
than he was fast asleep.

It was noon before the old sailor awoke to find a hot dinner ready and
the boys patiently waiting. He was surprised to find that his
stiffness had nearly all disappeared, and, except for the cuts on hands
and face, he was as well as ever again.

"My, this grub tastes good," he exclaimed, attacking the smoking fish
and yams. "I didn't have a bite to eat all day yesterday. But I
reckon I had better start at the beginning of my yarn. I reckon you
boys are some curious how I happened to turn up again in such shape.
Wall, after I left here I paddled on, till I came to that fringe of
cypress right opposite where the smoke was curling up.