They made their way to a flooded key of sweet-bay, myrtle and cocoa plums, and Johnny piled up brush on which he tried to sleep, while Dick lay in the canoe, which had been lashed between two little trees.  They were awakened by a deluge of rain, and in a few minutes there wasn’t a dry rag between them.  They used their canvas to protect guns, ammunition and such things as had to be kept dry.  A cold wind chilled them to the bone, and they had to sit down in the water to get warm.  It was a short-lived storm, and when the rain ceased and the stars came out Dick said to his companion: 

“It’s no use trying to sleep to-night; let’s pull out for Tiger Tail’s.”

When morning came the boys saw, far to the northwest, an Indian camp which they knew must belong to Charley Tiger Tail.  But between them and the camp was an almost impassable barrier of saw-grass.  They paddled to the east, keeping on the southern border of the saw-grass strand, and whenever an opening appeared they followed it until turned back by grass too heavy for them to force their way through.  They worked until noon and were out of sight of the Indian camp when they saw, a mile north of them, a couple of Indians poling their canoe.  Johnny waved his hand to the Indians, who stopped poling and waited for the boys to get to them.  He was soon pow-wowing with them, and translating to Dick as he talked.

“These Injuns, Charley Jumper and Cypress Tiger.  This Miami trail.  Goes Tiger Tail’s camp, ’bout six mile.  Hooray!  Charley Tommy ’nd your man there.  No, went away this mornin’.  They say think so on Osceola trail.  That’s the trail the squaws was on, ’nd we lost it.”

“Can’t we cut across to that trail and head them off, or catch up with them?”

“I asked ’em.  They say:  ’No good, trail bad, trail to Charley Tiger good, then go Osceola trail.  Maybe so Charley Tommy stop Osceola camp, maybe Miami Billy camp, maybe so not stop anywhere.’  They say they sick ojus, want whyome.  That means they’re awful sick and want whisky, but all Injuns is that.  These is good Injuns.  Better do what they say.”

The trail to the Indian’s camp was a crooked one, but Johnny followed it without trouble, although it was nearly dark when they reached the camp.  They slept on one of the high tables which the Seminoles use for their beds, and found Charley Tiger Tail quite a civilized Indian, who spoke a little English, sold whisky and dealt in the contraband plumes of the egret.

The boys were up and off at daylight, for they had agreed to do two days’ work in every twenty-four hours till they caught the canoe they were chasing.  Johnny had talked with Tiger about the Osceola trail, until he felt he could follow it blind-folded, and little time was lost in studying as they poled and paddled that day.

Soon after their start in the morning Dick had said, as he threw his weight on the paddle, which he was using as a pole: