TRACKING THE ENEMY. 



375 - 



lakes, and crossed the beautiful waters of Lake Poinsett, 

 he will find the St. Johns winding and twisting, over- 

 flowing the prairie here in shallow marshes, and running 

 off into deep long tributary lagoons, fringed with canes, 

 reeds, and flags of the most graceful shapes and dense 

 growth. Some of the canes totter over, leaning their 

 tall tips against the others for support, and so they reach 

 entirely across the narrow creeks, shutting out the sun and 

 air, and leaving the boatman to push his canoe as through 

 a sewer. One such branch of the St. Johns turned 

 eastward and reached nearly to the coast. This was the 

 course taken by the Indians when making their journeys 

 from the interior to the sea, and it carried them so near 

 Indian River, a broad inlet of the sea that margins the 

 Atlantic, that they had but a very short carry to get 

 across. Mike was following this outlet. He had seen 

 old fires a day or two back, and thought them, judging 

 by the brands, about as old as the interval of time which 

 he had taken to reach there after Tiger Tail had passed, 

 providing the chief had come this way immediately after 

 visiting Lake George. 



Mike examined the narrow passage up which he was 

 paddling with the instinct of a tracker without any posi- 

 tive signs, merely led on by his suspicion, mayhap by his 

 heart. Every scratch on the canes he noticed, and float- 

 ing bits of wood he picked up from the water to look at 

 them, and then toss them back again. Where a flag had 

 been broken, and half withered hung from its stem, 

 ho floated past with upraised paddle, calculating the 



