MIKE AND TIGER-TAIL PLAY CHESS. 295 



" Wall, wall, them folks are roostin' higher 'en turkey cocks. 

 I wonder ef I could crawl up thar." 



He crept along the house and found it sacked, and finally 

 reached the foot of the tower. Drawing his hunting-knife he 

 stepped inside, and felt around with his hands. Nothing but ashes 

 and cinders met his hand. " Burned out the hollow tree," said he, 

 and then looking up at the little glimmer of light that came down 

 through the trap-door, he continued, " but didn't smoke out the 

 coons." 



Turning to go, his foot encountered something soft. He leaned 

 down and felt it with his hands. It felt like a human body, and a 

 taint of corruption emanated from it. A fearful idea seized the 

 hunter ; he grasped the body with both hands and carried it to the 

 door. There was just light enough to see that it was the body of 

 a man. The hunter felt the head and it was scalped. He stood 

 up for a moment and drew a long breath, repeating his favourite 

 prayer of thanksgiving and praise, " God is good, God is good to 

 sinful creeturs." 



A stranger would have wondered what the man could have 

 found in the mangled corpse to call forth so fervent an ejaculation 

 of praise and of joy. 



Then carrying back the body and placing it where he found it, 

 he glided back to the bushes and was soon hid in his canoe under 

 the mangrove roots that laced and interlaced the crumbling banks. 



It was growing toward morning when the hunter saw the 

 Indians returning. He saw the boats glide past without noise, 

 seeking their former landing. From where he lay hid he counted 

 the Indians as they passed — there were but six! 



" Whare 's that t'other one 1 " questioned he in a whisper. No 

 one answered his question, and when the boats were out of sight 

 Mike shot out into the misty water, and the strong long pushes of 

 his paddle soon swept his canoe around opposite the island he had 

 lain on during the day. The light from the lantern guided him so 

 that he lost no time, and when the little islet could be discerned 

 he halted, backed out a little, and softly let down a stone anchor 

 attached to a string to keep his canoe from drifting from its place. 

 Then throwing off his hunting-shirt, leggings and moccasins, and 

 armed only with his knife, he cautiously let himself down into the 



