THE CAMP FIRE. 11 



termed by different classes of people. Mike was gaunt, though 

 not over tall, slow in his motions, and very quiet in whatever he 

 did. There was no pretension or ostentation about him, and so 

 far did he carry this negative virtue, that he never mentioned 

 himself if he could avoid it, and no one could tell his intentions 

 or anticipate his motives until the act was done. A leather dress, 

 and a leather cap, the same coloured shoes and belt, with a blue 

 flannel shirt, buttoned in front by two polished alligator's teeth, 

 was the invariable costume of the hunter. Once he had a cabin 

 at Tampa, where he would come and go with such uncertainty 

 that he obtained the name of Mike the Spook. Thence, at even- 

 ing, when the settlers with anxious eye regarded the forest that 

 environed them, dreading the whoop of the Seminole on every 

 wind, Mike would flit into the shadow, and be gone a month or 

 more, appearing again on the limits of the peninsula at Fort 

 Dallas. The great interior wilderness was his home, and in its 

 solitudes he had acquired his taciturnity. His voice was low 

 and musical. He might not speak for hours, the indication of his 

 finger and the expression of his countenance being sufficient for 

 all ordinary language, yet when he did, his tone was as effective 

 as a command. The villagers at Micanopy called him Injun 

 Mike, and said they never saw him come or go but in a storm, 

 and they, hunters as they were, seemed afraid of his strong will 

 and arm. 



Mike acted as our guide. He had undertaken it partly from a 

 liking for me, and partly, as I suspected, from mere curiosity to 

 see the Doctor and myself in the woods, for he would sometimes 

 sit by the hour in his silent way, watching our motions and con- 

 versation. He never added a word, but if his opinion was asked, 

 and the subject one that had been in the range of his observation, 

 he answered the querist in the simplest manner. There he sat by 

 the fire that morning ; I remember him as if painted before me. 

 His mahogany face wrinkled in kindly lines, and his chin covered 

 by a long, thin beard. He was smoking in the Spanish fashion, 

 rolling cigarettes from dried leaves across his knees, and his 

 quizzical eye wandered over us with a considering look, as though 

 we were children. A big black and dun hound, with a melan- 



