A few hours later, on a gra.s.sy point that projected into the river, which was flecked by glints of the sunlight the lad had loved so well, and which sifted down upon him through the moss-draped branches of a venerable oak, Has-se (the Sunbeam) lay dying. Beside him, and holding one of his hands, sat Rene de Veaux, so numbed by this great and sudden sorrow that even the comfort of tears was denied him, and his eyes were dry and strained.

"Oh Has-se, Has-se!" he cried. "To think that it is for me that thy life is given, and that for my sake only thou art lying here thus stricken to thy death!"

"Grieve not so sorely, Ta-lah-lo-ko, my brother. A brave warrior fears not death in any form; and when it comes to him while he is truly performing his duty, it is to be hailed with joy for the honor it confers."

"But thy life was so full of promise, and they whom thou lovest will miss thee so terribly."

"If my life had promise, then is that promise fulfilled in my death.

For those left to mourn I am truly grieved. It is for them that, while I am still able to speak, I would ask a favor of thee, Ta-lah-lo-ko."

"Name it, my brother, and if it be a thing within my power to compa.s.s, it shall be granted, even according to thy wish," answered Rene.

A grateful smile lighted the face of the dying lad, and Rene felt a faint pressure of the hand clasped in his, as Has-se said, almost in a whisper, so weak was he becoming,

"Thou hast lost thy people: my people are losing a son. Take thou my place. Be to the old chief, my father, a son, faithful and true, and to Nethla a brother."

Then after a pause, during which he gasped painfully for breath, he added, and a questioning look pa.s.sed over his face--"And thou wilt wear the Flamingo Feather?"

"Gladly will I be thy poor subst.i.tute for son and brother to those who are dearest to thee, if they will accept of me as such," answered Rene.

"As to the Flamingo Feather, didst thou not say that its wearing was reserved for the chiefs and sons of chiefs of thy people?"

Very faint came the reply, "One adopted of a chief is adopted to all the honors of an own son. His wearing of the chief's token is a sign that he will never leave nor desert his father until death shall part them. Ha--"

The effort of making this explanation was too great for the weakened frame of the dying lad, and it was followed by such a terrible flow of blood from the wound that those who witnessed it made sure that the end had come.

But once again the tender eyes were opened, and once more came the words to Rene de Veaux, faint but clear,

"And thou wilt wear the Flamingo Feather?"

"I will, Has-se! I will!" exclaimed the boy, choked by the great sobs that at length came to his relief--"and with my life will I be true to its meaning."

A smile pa.s.sed over the face of the dying lad, and there came into it such a look of great joy and perfect peace that it was glorified in the eyes of those who saw him. Then Rene felt once more the gentle pressure of his hand and heard one soft sigh.

With its utterance the brave soul of Has-se (the Sunbeam) took its flight, and, at the same moment, the sun sank from view, amid the unspeakable glories of the western sky.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Death of Has-se.]

Very tenderly they lifted the lifeless form, and carefully laying it in the bottom of a canoe, resumed that journey towards the land of the Alachuas which had been thus sorrowfully interrupted.

The withdrawal of the arrow that had pierced Has-se's body had caused him the most intolerable agony; but he had borne it without a murmur, and only his drawn features and clinched hands had indicated his sufferings. A stream of his life's blood that could not be wholly checked had followed the arrow upon its removal, and the same day that witnessed his receipt of the wound also witnessed his death.

He never knew whose hand had sped the shaft upon its deadly flight; but, when it was withdrawn from his body, the others had noted, rudely cut upon it, the form of a serpent, which was the token of Chitta (the Snake). Thus had the Snake gained a bitter revenge for his overthrow, months before, in the games at the Feast of Ripe Corn.

Sad indeed was the return of Yah-chi-la-ne and his party to the pleasant village beside the great spring, in the land of the Alachuas.

The sight of the rescued captive was indeed greeted with joyous shouts of welcome; but they were hushed, almost ere they were uttered, as those a.s.sembled on the river bank noted the black paint with which, in token of mourning, the returning warriors had covered their faces.

In heavy-hearted silence did his comrades carry their dead back into the circle of lodges, from which he had departed so bravely and loyally to the rescue of his friend. As they bore it into the lodge of Micco, his father, the old warrior sat as though all hope and joy had departed from his life forever; while outside, the air was rent by the wailings and bitter lamentations of women.

They laid him to rest, after the manner of his people, in a tomb built of great tree-trunks, so cunningly fashioned that no wild beast should ever disturb its contents. Beside him they laid whatever he had possessed of value, and the things he had prized most highly. The young girls of the tribe threw over the sleeping form great handfuls of sweet-scented wild flowers; and, ere the tomb was closed, Rene de Veaux placed in the calmly folded hands the scarlet feather, with the slender gold chain and pin attached to it, that had been a token between them.

As they finished the simple rites, and were about to turn away from the spot, the old chief, thus bereft of the pride and hope of his declining years, took the hand of the white lad in his, and, in a voice that faltered with his strong emotion said, so that all present could hear him,

"I have lost a son, and I have gained a son. Has-se has gone from me, but Ta-lah-lo-ko has come in his place. It is your chief who speaks, and as the son of your chief shall this lad dwell among you."

Then the beautiful Nethla, taking Rene's other hand, kissed him gently on the forehead, and said,

"In the name of him who has gone from us I welcome thee, Ta-lah-lo-ko, as a brother."

As she spoke she offered him a Flamingo Feather, the same that had gleamed among the dark tresses of the dead lad. Rene took it, and twining it in his own sunny curls, said, in a clear voice,

"As the son of a chief I wear this emblem. Its significance has been made known to me, and, even as I vowed to him who lies yonder, I will, from this time forth, endeavor to act truly the part of a son to this old man. I will never fail him or desert him until death shall part us."

So Rene de Veaux became, to all intents and purposes, a member of this tribe of Indians. The Flamingo Feather which he wore proclaimed his position among them to all men, and obtained for him that regard and respect which his own manliness and ready tact enabled him to retain and increase. He became a skilful hunter, and from his Indian companions he soon acquired all their knowledge of woodcraft. In return for this he taught them so many of the useful arts of his own civilization, that his reputation for wisdom spread far and wide over the land, and many from distant tribes came to learn of him.

From time to time rumors were brought to these Indians of the terrible cruelties practised by the Spaniards upon such natives of the country as fell into their hands. For this reason the tribe into which Rene had been adopted returned not to their own lands in the far east, but remained in the land of the Alachuas. With these people they became so closely united by ties of kinship and mutual interest that after a while no distinctions were drawn between them. Thus, upon the death of the Alachua chief, the good Micco was chosen to succeed him; and from that time he ruled over the united tribes. Among his wise men and princ.i.p.al advisers, those upon whom he relied the most were Yah-chi-la-ne and Rene de Veaux.

At the time of Has-se's death, Micco's tribe and the Alachuas had determined to be no longer annoyed by the neighborhood of the Seminole outlaws, and had despatched a powerful war-party against them. When, however, this party reached the island village in the depths of the great swamp, they found it deserted. By some means the Seminoles had obtained a knowledge of their coming, and had fled from that part of the country. The Alachuas destroyed their village, and from that time for more than a year they were heard of no more, save by rumor, which located them among the savages of the far south.

Upon a certain occasion, after he had been for many months a member of the tribe, Rene led a hunting-party, who sought to secure a large number of alligators, to the edge of the great swamp. One night as they sat about their campfire, gravely smoking their stone pipes, and listening to some of the wild traditions of their race, related by the oldest member of the party, they were suddenly startled, and all but Rene were greatly alarmed, by a flash of light and a loud explosion.

It sounded from a small grove of trees not far from them, and Rene instantly recognized it as the explosion of a fire-arm.

As it had been followed by a loud cry of pain, and as groans were still to be heard, he succeeded in convincing his companions that the terrifying sound was of human origin, and in persuading them to go with him in search of its cause.

In the grove they found a young Indian writhing in agony upon the ground, while near him lay the shattered remains of a Spanish arquebuse or musket. He had evidently attempted to discharge it at some member of the hunting-party, and, either because it was over-loaded or was too badly rusted to be of service, it had burst in his hands. Although he had escaped other wounds, an examination of his face showed that his eyesight had been totally destroyed by the burning powder, and it was the pain thus caused that had drawn from him the cries and groans they had heard.

In spite of the disfiguration of his face Rene knew him the moment he was dragged within the light of the camp-fire, and it was with sensations of dread and horror that he gazed upon the once familiar features. When he explained to his followers the nature of the weapon this enemy had attempted to use against them, they were filled with rage, and would have instantly slain the wretch, but Rene bade them spare his life.

"I know him," he said, "and he is too vile a being to be worthy to meet death at your hands. Besides, if he be now released, a lifetime of blindness will prove even a greater punishment than any you can inflict. Lead him far out upon the trail, and there leave him. Others must have accompanied him, and they will doubtless find and care for their own."

So it was done as Rene had ordered, and on the following day no trace of the wounded man could be found; but the imprint of other moccasined feet, near where he had been left, showed that his friends had discovered and borne him away.

When Rene was afterwards questioned as to who he was, he answered,

"Chitta, the Seminole."

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FRENCH HAVE COME AGAIN

Three years had pa.s.sed from the time the Spaniards established their power in this part of the New World, by their fearful ma.s.sacres of the French at Fort Caroline and among the sand dunes of the coast, below San Augustin. They were years of cruelty and injustice on the part of the Spaniards, and of great suffering to those nations who fell into their hands; but to the dwellers in the distant land of the Alachuas, among whom Rene de Veaux had taken up his abode, they were years of peace, prosperity, and contentment. The little encampment, that the good chief Micco had established beside the great spring, had grown into a populous village, surrounded, in all directions, by broad fields of waving maize and yellow pumpkins, besides an abundance of other things pleasant and useful. The forests still teemed with game, and the rivers with fish, and the skill of the Indian hunter was such that both could be obtained in plenty at all seasons.

In this beautiful land, with every want antic.i.p.ated, surrounded by devoted friends, and leading a life of active usefulness, it would seem as though no man could be unhappy. There was, however, at least one among its dwellers who was so, and he was their ruler, the chief of them all, whose word was their law, and whose slightest command they hastened to obey. They called him Ta-lah-lo-ko (the White Chief), though in another land he would be known as Rene de Veaux.

It was a great longing to visit once more this other land, the fair France of his birth, and the apparent impossibility of ever doing so, that made the white chief unhappy, and caused his people to regard him sorrowfully, as one troubled by an evil spirit. The old medicine men of the tribe used their most powerful incantations against it, and made charms with which to drive it away; but they did not succeed, because they could not understand it, and did not even know its name, which was "Homesickness."

When the good old chief Micco died, which he did a few months before the time which this chapter opens, greatly lamented by all his people, the person who would have naturally succeeded to his office was Yah-chi-la-ne (the Eagle). When it was offered to him, this brave young Indian declared that he was not nearly so wise or fit to become a ruler as his friend Ta-lah-lo-ko, who, though younger in years than he, was so much older in wisdom that his equal did not exist in all the land. He therefore begged them to hail Ta-lah-lo-ko as head chief of the nation. Greatly to Rene's astonishment, this was done, and he found himself anxiously wondering how he should act in this new and unexpected position.