372 WILD SPOETS IN THE SOUTH. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 



TRACKING THE ENEMY. 



" For it is with feelings as with waters 

 The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb." 



"NINE Injins and no squaws," quoth Mike, seating 

 himself on one of the rolling sand hills that border 

 Indian River, a little south of Cape Carnaveral, after a 

 Ions: examination of the surrounding shores. 



O o 



On the same evening that we pitched our camp on the 

 well-marked trail leading from the St. Johns River across 

 to St. Augustine, Mike had disappeared. He had given 

 no notice of his intention, unless the purchase of powder 

 and ball from a trader camping at the same place might 

 have been a notice. The place where he slept at the fire 

 was vacant, and the dun hound and heavy rifle had dis- 

 appeared with their owner. 



We were safe from all doubt as to our course, and 

 from all danger, for St. Augustine was but sixteen miles 

 away, but we speculated much on the cause of the sud- 

 den flight. Had the trader or his men given him any 

 bad news? No, they were only talking of the wars, of 

 Tiger Tail's forays, and how the troops were drawing 

 down in concert to destroy the Indians or drive them 



