The Flamingo Feather by Kirk Munroe

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The astonished sergeant muttered something by way of apology, but Rene,
not waiting to hear it, hurried away to report to his uncle the result
of his mission to the prisoner, and then to his own quarters to think
over the startling proposal made to him by his friend.

The next morning Has-se had disappeared, and was nowhere to be found.
With a troubled countenance the sergeant of the guard reported to
Laudonniere that he had looked in on the prisoner at midnight, and
found him quietly sleeping. He had visited the room again at sunrise,
and it was empty. The sentinels at the gates, and those who paced the
walls, had been closely questioned, but declared they had seen nobody,
nor had they heard any unusual sound. For his part he believed there
was magic in it, and that some of the old Indian witches had spirited
the prisoner up the chimney, and flown away with him on a broomstick.

Although troubled to find that his prisoners could thus easily escape
from the fort, Laudonniere was relieved that the disposal of Has-se's
fate had thus been taken from his hands. He said to Rene, "I am glad
that thy friend has escaped, though I like not the manner of his going,
and I trust he may come to no harm. I would, however, that we had been
able to send a company, or even one man, with him to this land of the
Alachuas of which he told thee, for mayhap we might thus have obtained
provision; but without a guide, I know not how it could be discovered."

"Could I have gone, uncle?" inquired Rene, eagerly.

"Thou, lad? No, thou art too young and tender to be sent on such a
perilous mission. It should be one of double thy years and experience.
Let no such foolish thoughts fill thy head yet a while."

CHAPTER V

THE ESCAPE OF HAS-SE AND RENE

This speech from his uncle both pleased and troubled Rene. He was glad
to learn that it was deemed advisable for some one from the fort to
visit the land of the Alachuas, and troubled to find that if he went
with Has-se, he must do so without permission from his uncle.
Nevertheless he felt certain that he, being Has-se's friend, and also
regarded by the Indians as the son of the great chief of the white men,
could undertake the mission with a greater chance of safety and success
than any one else. He would have urged this view of the case upon his
uncle's attention, but feared that speaking of the subject a second
time would only result in his being absolutely forbidden to leave the
fort on any pretence. The lad felt himself to be truly a man, now that
he was nearly seventeen years old, and like all manly, high-spirited
boys of his age, he was most anxious to enter upon any adventure that
promised novelty and excitement.

Rene's appearance at this time was very different from that of the boy
who, less than a year before, had left the old chateau of his fathers
with tear-stained cheeks. His long curls had fallen under the shears,
and his closely cropped hair showed to advantage his well-formed head.
He was tall for his age, his muscles had hardened with constant
exercise, and his face, neck, and hands were tanned to a ruddy brown by
the hot suns beneath which he had spent so many months. His brown eyes
held a merry twinkle, but at the same time there was an expression of
pride and fixed purpose in his face that well became it.

At this time he wore a small plumed cap, a leathern jacket,
knee-breeches, stockings of stout yarn, and short boots, the legs of
which fitted closely to his ankles. Simon, the armorer, had made for
him a light steel corselet, that he wore over his leathern jacket
whenever he went beyond the walls of the fort. Upon all such
excursions he was armed with his well-tried cross-bow (for which he
carried a score of steel-tipped bolts) and a small, but keen-edged,
dagger that hung at his belt.

After considering Has-se's proposal all the morning, Rene finally
decided to accept it, and, without notifying any person in the fort of
his intention, to accompany the young Indian to the land of the
Alachuas.

In accordance with this plan he gathered together a number of trinkets,
such as he knew would be acceptable to the Indians, and during the
afternoon he conveyed these to the forest beyond the fort, where he
bound them into a compact package and carefully hid them.

Rene could not account, any more than the others, for Has-se's
disappearance, nor imagine how his escape had been effected; but he
felt certain that the young Indian would be true to his word, and await
his coming at the appointed place of meeting when the moon rose above
the pine-tree tops.

As it would not rise until nearly ten o'clock that evening, and as his
uncle retired early on account of his indisposition, Rene was able to
bid him an affectionate good-night and receive his customary blessing
without arousing any suspicion of his intended departure in the breast
of the old soldier.

Leaving his own quarters about nine o'clock, with his cross-bow over
his shoulder, Rene walked with an unconcerned air, but with a beating
heart, directly to the main gate of the fort, at which he was
challenged by the sentinel on duty there. Rene gave the countersign,
and was recognized by the soldier, who, however, firmly refused to
allow him to pass.

He said, "I am sorry to be obliged to interrupt thy walk, Master De
Veaux; but since the escape of the Indian prisoner last night, we have
received strictest orders not to allow a living soul to pass the gates
between sunset and sunrise."

Thus turned back at the very outset of his adventure, Rene knew not
what to do. Should he attempt to scale the walls, he might be shot
while so doing, and at any rate there was the moat beyond, which he
could not possibly cross without detection. Seeking the deep shadow of
an angle, the boy seated himself on a gun-carriage and pondered over
the situation. The more he thought of it the more impossible did it
seem for him to escape beyond the grim walls and meet Has-se at the
appointed time.

While he was thus overcome by the difficulties of his position, and as
he had about concluded that he had undertaken an impossibility, he was
startled by the deep tones of the great bell that hung in the archway
of the gate, striking the hour of ten o'clock. Directly afterwards
came the measured tramp of the guard and the clank of their weapons as
they made their round for the purpose of relieving the sentinels on
duty, and replacing them with fresh men. Rene sat so near the gate-way
that he could overhear what was said when that post was relieved, and
distinguishing above the rest the voice of his old friend Simon, the
armorer, he became convinced that he had been placed on duty at this
most important point.

After relieving this post the guard resumed their march, and passed so
close to where Rene sat in the shadow of the great gun that, had the
night been a shade lighter, they must have seen him. As it was, he
escaped detection, and once more breathed freely as their footsteps
sounded fainter and fainter in the distance. After a while he heard
them return along the opposite side of the fort, and finally halt in
front of the guard-house, when silence again reigned throughout the
entire enclosure.

As Rene still sat on the gun-carriage, thinking how he might turn to
account the fact of his friend Simon being on duty at the main gateway,
the sound of a groan came from that direction. As it was repeated, the
lad sprang to his feet and walked quietly but rapidly towards the place
whence it came. When near the gateway he laid down his cross-bow and
advanced without it, until brought to a halt by a sharp challenge in
the gruff voice of old Simon.

Rene gave the countersign, and added, "It is I, Rene de Veaux, good
Simon. Hearing thy groans, I came to learn their cause. What
distresses thee so grievously?"

"Ah! Master De Veaux," answered the old soldier, "I fear me greatly
that the fever of the bones with which so many of our men are suffering
has at length laid hold on me, I have been warned for some days of its
approach, and only a few hours since obtained from good Master Le Moyne
physic which, if taken at the outset, prevents much pain. I left it in
the smithy near the forge, not deeming the attack so near; but the
chill of the night air hath hastened it, and already am I suffering the
torments of the rack. Tell me, lad, wilt thou fetch me the phial from
the smithy, that I may test the virtue of its contents?"

"Not so, good Simon," answered Rene, whose thoughts had been busy while
the old soldier told of his troubles. "I will gladly aid thee, but am
convinced that it can better be done in another way. Go thou for the
physic, for thou canst more readily place hands upon it than I, and at
the same time apparel thyself in garments thicker and more suited to
the chill of the night than those thou wearest. I will stand watch
until thy return, and pledge thee my word that none shall pass, or be
the wiser for thy absence."

All his soldier's training forbade Simon to accept this offer. To
desert his post, even though he left it guarded by another, would, he
knew, be considered one of the gravest military crimes. Therefore the
struggle in his mind between duty on the one side and his sufferings on
the other was long and pitiful.

Finally pain conquered. "Well, well, Master Rene," he said, gruffly,
"I must e'en take thy advice, and obtain speedy release from this pain,
or else be found here dead ere the post be relieved. Keep thou open
keen eyes and ears, and I pray that no harm may come of this my first
neglect of duty in all the years that I have served the King."

With these words the old soldier thrust his pike into Rene's hands, and
hurried away as quickly as his pain would permit towards his own
quarters in the smithy.

As soon as Simon was out of hearing, Rene went and recovered his
cross-bow. Then he carefully and noiselessly undid the fastenings of
the great gate, and swung it open a few inches. This accomplished, he
shouldered Simon's heavy pike, and patiently paced, like a sentry, up
and down beneath the dark archway, until he heard approaching footsteps.

He called softly, "Is that thou, Simon?"

"Ay, lad," came the answer.

Then laying down the pike, and seizing his own cross-bow, Rene slipped
quickly through the gate (which swung to behind him), and with
noiseless footsteps fled swiftly across the bridge that spanned the
moat, and disappeared in the black shadows of the forest beyond.

[Illustration: Rene slipped quickly through the gate.]

Although the moon had risen, and was now well up in the eastern sky, so
that the bridge was brightly illumined by it, Rene crossed unnoticed.
As the gate was still firmly fastened when he returned, Simon failed to
detect that it had been opened, but the old man spent some minutes
looking for the lad in the archway before he became convinced that he
was gone. Even then he considered that Rene was only endeavoring to
tease him by thus slipping away, and muttering something about a boy
being as full of mischief as a monkey, the soldier shouldered his pike
and once more resumed his measured pacings up and down the archway.

At the edge of the forest Rene stopped, drew from his bosom a note that
he had written before leaving his room, and thrust it into the end of a
cleft branch that he stuck into the ground near the end of the bridge.
It was addressed to his Excellency the Chevalier Laudonniere,
Commandant of Fort Caroline, and its contents were as follows:

"MY DEARLY BELOVED UNCLE,--Doubtless I am doing very wrong in thus
leaving the fort and undertaking an important mission without thy
sanction. It would seem, however, that circumstances are peculiarly
favorable to my success in this matter, and I feared lest thou wouldst
forbid the undertaking, out of a tender regard for my youth and
inexperience. I go with the Indian lad Has-se, my friend, to the land
of the Alachuas, on a quest for provisions for the fort. In case of my
success I will return again at the end of a month, or shortly
thereafter. If I fail, and return no more, I still crave thy blessing,
and to be remembered without abatement of the love thou hast ever
extended to me. No person within the fort has aided me in this matter,
nor has any one of thy garrison knowledge of my departure.

"I remain, dear uncle, with sincerest respect and deepest love, thy
nephew,

"RENE DE VEAUX."

Having thus taken measures to inform his uncle of his departure and the
mission on which he had set forth, Rene tightened his belt, shouldered
his cross-bow, and turned into the dark pine forest. He made his way
swiftly down the river-bank towards the appointed place of meeting,
where he hoped to find Has-se still waiting for him, though it was
already past the hour that the latter had mentioned. On the way he
stopped and recovered the package of trinkets that he had hidden in the
forest that afternoon.

As he neared the little stream on the bank of which the Indian lad had
promised to await his coming, he uttered the cry of Hup-pe the great
owl, which was the signal Has-se had taught him. To his joy it was
immediately answered from a short distance in advance. In another
moment he stood beside his friend, who without a word led him to where
a canoe was hidden beneath some overhanging branches. They stepped
in, a few strong strokes of the paddles shot them clear of the creek,
the bow of their craft was turned down-stream, and ere a word had been
spoken between them, they were gliding swiftly down the glassy moonlit
surface of the great river towards its mouth.

CHAPTER VI

THE JOURNEY IN SEARCH OF FOOD

As the paddles flashed brightly in the moonshine, and the light craft
in which Rene and Has-se were seated moved swiftly and silently down
the broad river, the former related to his companion all the
particulars of his leaving the fort, and the delays that had detained
him past their appointed time of meeting. As he concluded his story,
Has-se, who until then had remained silent, said,

"Thou hast done well, Ta-lah-lo-ko, and thy success at the outset is
proof to me that the Great Spirit favors our undertaking."

Rene was not so convinced of this as his companion, for he was not at
all certain that he was acting rightly; but he did not seek to disturb
the other's confidence, and only said,

"Now tell me of thy escape, Has-se; for I must confess that I would
have deemed it impossible, and am not a little concerned to find Fort
Caroline such a sieve as thy easy leave-taking would seem to prove it."

Has-se was silent for some minutes, and then he said,

"I would have no secrets from thee, my brother, and would gladly tell
thee that thou askest; but I may not now, though at another time my
tongue may be loosed. For the present I am bound not to reveal that
which must needs be known were the manner of my escape described to
thee."

Rene felt somewhat hurt at this answer, which seemed to imply a want of
confidence in him; but he knew his friend's character too well to press
the subject further, and so, smothering his curiosity, he turned the
conversation to other things.

After they had travelled for several miles down the river, Has-se
turned the bow of the canoe into a sluggish bayou, that wound, with
innumerable turnings, amid vast limitless expanses of salt-marsh. This
stream led into others that formed such a maze that it seemed to Rene
impossible that they should ever discover a way out of it.

As Has-se kept the canoe to its course, never for an instant hesitating
as to which way he should turn, they startled from their resting-places
myriads of water-fowl and strange birds, that flew away with harsh
notes of alarm. These were answered from the distant forest by the
melancholy howlings of wolves and the cries of other night-prowling
wild beasts, that sounded very fearful to Rene's unaccustomed ears.

At length their craft was run ashore at the foot of a small shell mound
that formed quite an elevation amid the wide levels of the marshes, and
Has-se said they would rest there until sunrise. After hauling the
canoe well up out of the water, he led the way to a small hut, thatched
with palmetto-leaves, that stood half-way up the side of the mound. In
it was piled a quantity of long gray moss, that formed a most
acceptable bed to the tired boys; and throwing themselves down on it,
they were in a few minutes fast asleep.

It seemed to Rene that he had but just fallen asleep when he was
awakened by a light touch upon his forehead. Springing to his feet, he
found Has-se standing smiling beside him, and saw that the sun had
already risen. Running down to the beach, he bathed his face in the
cool salt-water, used a handful of moss as a towel, and turned to the
breakfast that Has-se had spent an hour in preparing.

When Rene saw what a luxurious repast the ingenuity of the young Indian
had provided, he opened his eyes wide in astonishment. He knew that a
bag of parched corn and several gourds of fresh water had been brought
along, and upon this simple fare he had expected to break his fast.
Now, in addition to the parched corn, he saw fish, oysters, eggs, and a
vegetable, all smoking hot, cooked to a nicety, and temptingly spread
on some freshly cut palm-leaves.

The fish were mullet, that Has-se had speared from the canoe as they
swam in the clear water. He had cleaned them, wrapped them in fresh,
damp leaves, raked aside a portion of the fire that he had kindled when
he first arose, buried them in the hot sand beneath it, and covered the
spot with live coals.

The oysters had also come from the water, in a great bunch that Has-se
had just been able to lift and carry to the fire. To cook them he had
simply placed the entire bunch on the coals, where they had roasted in
their shells, which now gaped wide open, offering their contents to be
eaten.

The eggs were plover's eggs, of which Has-se had discovered several
nests among the tall marsh grass. They also had been roasted in the
hot sand, from which the fire had been raked one side.

The vegetable puzzled Rene considerably, for he had never seen its
like, and knew not what to make of it. When he asked Has-se what it
was, the latter laughed, with the soft, musical laugh, peculiar to his
people, and answered,

"Dost thou not know thy namesake, Ta-lah-lo-ko? It is the leaf bud of
a young palm-tree, and with us Indians it takes the place of bread when
we have neither a-chee" (the maize) "nor koonti-katki" (the
starch-root).

It was indeed the tender leaf bud of the cabbage-palm, roasted in its
own husk, and to Rene it tasted much like roasted chestnuts.

From the shells on the beach he obtained a small quantity of salt, that
had been left in them by the evaporated water of some former high tide.
This he wanted for both his fish and his eggs. Then the two boys sat
down to their feast, and ate and laughed and chatted, and enjoyed it so
thoroughly that one of them at least thought nothing had ever tasted so
good to him before.

After breakfast, as there were no dishes to be washed, and nothing to
be packed to carry with them, they were able to resume their journey at
once. Until nearly noon they were hemmed in by the monotonous
salt-marshes; then they crossed a wide sheet of open water, and entered
the mouth of a wild, dark river that flowed into it from the west. The
rest of that day and most of the next was occupied in the ascent of
this river, which ever grew darker and narrower as they neared its
source. They worked incessantly at the paddles, and made such speed
that Has-se said they must certainly overtake his people before they
reached the land of the Alachuas.

Several times during these two days he ran the canoe ashore at places
that his keen vision noted as having been the landing-places of other
canoes. At each of these places he found the ashes and charred sticks
that denoted recent camp-fires, and each time after making such a
discovery he returned to Rene with a puzzled and thoughtful expression
on his face. His companion noticed this, and finally inquired the
cause.

"What troubles thee, my Has-se?" he asked. "Thy looks betoken a
worriment of some kind. May I not share it with thee?"

For a few minutes Has-se plied his paddle vigorously and in silence;
then he said, more as if thinking aloud than in answer to Rene's
question, "Others besides ourselves are in pursuit of my people, and I
fear they are enemies."

"What is thy reason for thus thinking?"

"Because I find that each halting-place of Micco's band has been
carefully examined after their departure. I have also found the
remains of several small but recent camp-fires on opposite sides of the
river from theirs, and around them I find the traces of but two men.
One of these men is very large, and he wears moccasins that were never
made by my people. I fear they are enemies."

"But why should they be enemies?" asked Rene. "May they not be some of
thy band left behind like thyself. Or may not one of them be of thy
tribe, and the other be one of the guests who attended the Feast of
Ripe Corn?"

"That is easily answered," replied the young Indian. "If they were
friends who for some reason had been left behind, and were now anxious
to rejoin those whom they follow, they could have done so long since.
Their fires burned at the same time with those of my people, and they
have visited Micco's camps before the ashes of his fires grew cold.
Besides, in each case their own fires were carefully hidden, so that
they could not by any chance be seen by those who were in advance of
them."

"Who, then, can be following so large a band, and for what purpose?
Surely two cannot harm so many."

"That I know not, but I fear them to be of the outlawed Seminoles.[1]
If so, they are following my people for the purpose of picking up
plunder, or of snatching the prize of a scalp--a thing they could only
gain by a cowardly attack upon one defenceless, for they dare not seek
it in open fight. Or it may be that one of them is he who has
conceived a bitter enmity against those who never treated him with
aught save kindness, and that he has joined with him another equally
base."

At this thought Has-se's bright face became clouded, and for some time
he remained silent. Finally the silence was again broken by Rene, who
asked,

"Who are these Seminoles of whom thou dost speak thus contemptuously?"

"Seminole, in my language, signifies a run-away. They are a band of
thieves, murderers, and other bad Indians, who have been driven out of
my tribe and other tribes on the north. They have gradually increased
in numbers, until now they call themselves a tribe. They are always at
war with all men, and against them my people have declared a fight
forever."

"And who is he of whom thou speakest so vaguely as having conceived an
enmity unjustly against those who have harmed him not?"

"One who should be well known to thee, Ta-lah-lo-ko. I speak of Chitta
the Snake, whom I hope we may not encounter."

"It will be the worse for him if we do encounter him, and he ventures
to interfere with us," replied Rene, hotly.

"Nay, Ta-lah-lo-ko. I have a feeling within me which warns me that a
meeting with the Snake will be a sad one for us," answered Has-se, who,
though as brave as a young lion, was inclined to be superstitious, as
were all of his race.

During this conversation the course of the canoe had been through a
mere thread of a stream, and Rene now noticed that they were traversing
the mazes of a dark swamp. The little stream connected a series of
stagnant pools or bayous, and just as they came into the open water of
one of these they caught a glimpse of another canoe leaving it on the
opposite side. Even as they sighted it, it shot in among the trunks of
a dense cypress forest, and disappeared.

[1]Before the Seminoles became the powerful tribe into which they
finally grew they were a band of outlaws, composed of those who, for
some good reason, had fled or been driven from the Creeks, Cherokees,
Choctaws, Chickasaws, and other tribes of the South.--K. M.

CHAPTER VII

CHITTA BECOMES A SEMINOLE

In order to account for the presence of the canoe of which Rene and
Has-se had caught a glimpse, as it darted in among the black shadows of
the cypress forest in the great swamp, we must go back to the night
that followed the Feast of Ripe Corn.

After Chitta struck Has-se the blow that stretched him stunned and
bleeding on the ground, he sprang into the forest, and gliding swiftly
among the stately trunks of the solemn pines, made his way to the
river. On its bank were drawn up many canoes, over which Chitta
glanced hastily, but with a practised eye. In a moment he selected one
that promised to combine lightness with speed, noiselessly launched it,
and stepped into it. Grasping a paddle, he headed the stolen craft
down the river, and was quickly buried in the mist that rose from its
surface.

As the unhappy lad pursued his solitary way down the river, neither
knowing nor caring where he was going, so long as he placed distance
between himself and those whom he knew would shortly search for him,
his mind was filled with bitter reflections. He felt as though he
hated all men, but especially Has-se and the white lad, who, he felt
certain, had taught the former the trick of wrestling, by means of
which the games had been won.

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