was now so absorbed in his chain of reasoning that he scarcely
heeded the interruption. "Twelve life convicts, which by the laws of
this state means twelve murderers, men without mercy, who would
hesitate at nothing, are for several days and nights close to a party
of four who do not even keep a watch at night. Why do they not kill
off the four and help themselves to several things that would make them
more comfortable?"

"I give it up," said his puzzled chum.

"Again," said Charley following his line of reasoning, "what do bodies
of men who have broken prison always do when they escape? Separate as
soon as possible, and scatter in all directions, make their way to
small, isolated places, change their appearance as much as possible,
and each shift for himself. To remain together increases the risk of
capture for each and all. There must be some powerful motive to make
them take such risks. Such men risk nothing except for money. But
there are no banks here to be looted, no strangers to be waylaid in
dark alleys, not even a blind beggar to steal pennies from."

"Then, for goodness' sake, what is their object?" demanded the
mystified Walter.

Charley's voice lowered in its seriousness. "I know there is a party
of Indians on the river now. I found traces on the shore, where they
had embarked in boats, they are likely the same party that were hunting
in the woods and have now returned to the Everglades. By the signs I
pointed out to you there is another party following. I told you I
could tell but little from the signs, but there is among the convicts
one of their race who can read their signs like an open book."

"But the Indians are poor," Walter objected. "I don't see the
connection."

"Remember what the leader of the convicts said yesterday, that each
Indian had to give the larger portion of his plumes to his chief as
tribute. Consider a party of expert hunters after a long hunt of
weeks; why, the chief's share must run up into the hundreds of dollars
to say nothing of each brave's individual portion."

"What a diabolical scheme!" cried Walter in horror, "they mean to
slaughter the Indians for their plumes as they come down the river from
the 'Glades.'"

"That's the conclusion I reached," said Charley coolly. "I am glad
that you prove I am not going crazy brooding over the matter."

CHAPTER IX.

THE BEES AND THE BEAR.

Walter's first feeling was of horror and indignation, mingled with