think many white men do—they didn’t up to recently, anyhow, according to a book on exploration I read.” Nicky made the statement excitedly.

“Even if we never find any treasure,” he added, “there must be a big reward for breaking up trade like this. It’s wicked. It’s against the law and the Constitution, and even if there wasn’t any reward we will have to try some way to get word to the Government boats.”

There was a slight stir in the grass and scrub behind and to the left of them. When, with one accord, they turned, a Seminole Indian faced them.

“Hello!” said Nicky, a little uneasily.

The man made no immediate reply. Instead, he lifted an arm and beckoned, then pointed toward a narrow trail beyond the clearing.

Nicky looked at Cliff, and both consulted Tom with their eyes. They all read a common intention; they would swing about and rush to the inlet and swim back to the shore.The Indian divined their purpose; with a snakelike movement he stepped to a point preventing the move. His hand touched something bright and sinister at his belt. “Se-lof-ka-chop-kaw!” he said, Seminole dialect for “My knife is long!” He partly unsheathed the weapon. Silently the chums took the trail, their captor following close. And two hundred yards away Mr. Neale sat by the shore, wondering!

CHAPTER XII
MODERN PIRATES

Picking up the bundles of their clothes, the Seminole herded the chums along the trail; its limestone-coral hurt their tender, bare feet while they had hard work to avoid the deep, searing gashes which saw grass makes. They came after a few minutes to a small open glade, almost bare of soil; here the Indian made a sharp, guttural sound. They turned. Gesturing to them to sit, he said “A-pok-es-chay,” or “All sit down!” They read the gesture but not the words. However, because of their condition they preferred to stand. After he tossed their clothes to the ground, the Indian signed for them to spread the garments to dry again and then, turning, he walked swiftly out of sight.

“This is a nice fix,” said Tom. “What will Mr. Neale do when he sees the sloop gone and doesn’t find us?”

“He will think Sam has made off with us—or that Tom has been so scared that he helped Sam,” Nicky declared. As a point of truth, Mr. Neale at almost that moment gave up his waiting vigil, and with dejected shoulders bent to the oars for a long, grilling pull 

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