THE BURIAL. 293 



like the call of a bugle. Lou was sitting in the boat, but 

 at the sound of the dog's voice she sprang out, and run- 

 ning back to the hound, threw herself down on the sand 

 with her arms around his neck, and broke out convulsively 

 sobbing. It was the first tear she had shed since her 

 father's death, and the torrent restrained was the more 

 powerful. 



" Oh ! Missus ! JESUS help us !" moaned Rose, sway- 

 ing her head from side to side. 



Mike rose up in his boat and looking seaward, brushed 

 his hand across his cheek, saying : " Thar aint no show 

 of light yit awhile." 



In a little while Lou came back to the boat, leading 

 Duke by the ear, and having taken her place with the 

 Doctor, the boats glided off into the darkness and the 

 mist, and using only the paddles, passed like phantoms 

 out of sight. 



All that night we rowed, and the next day, and avail- 

 ing ourselves of the smallest of the open islands for rest- 

 ing places, avoided surprise. 



Whether the Indians ever foUowed us I know not, or 

 whether they ever found the grave of the recluse planter 

 by the sea. I never again visited the island, and the 

 craft and ceaseless vigilance of our guide carried us 

 safely amid the dangers by storm and warfare that con- 

 stantly surrounded us during the four days that were 

 occupied in getting to Tampa Bay. The scenery we 

 sailed along was beautiful, and from time to time we 

 would stop to beat up an island for necessary game, but 



