Here was the point where his loving and beloved friend had so
peacefully breathed his last, and there, at the edge of the great
swamp, the place where Chitta had met with his self-inflicted
punishment. Now they passed the mouth of the little lagoon, from the
head of which the trail led away through the dark mazes of the swamp to
the Seminole island, rising from its slimy waters; and soon they were
gliding swiftly down with the current of that other river, that flowed
eastward to the coast.
Finally they passed its last bend, and the leading canoe, in which Rene
sat, shot out into the open waters of the sound. As it did so the
heart of the white chief gave a great leap within him, and for a moment
a mist swam before his eyes. He had not expected to find his
countrymen before passing the vast salt-marshes and reaching the River
of May; but, to his astonishment, he had already come upon them.
Within a mile of him lay three tall ships, riding gracefully at their
anchors, and from their mast-heads floated proudly in the light of the
setting sun the lily banner of France.
They were indeed the ships of his own people, whom he had never dared
hope to meet again. There was the emblem of his own land, which, when
he had last beheld it, had been torn, amid sorrow and defeat, from
above the walls of Fort Caroline, to give place to the yellow ensign of
Spain.
When Rene had controlled his tumultuous feeling sufficiently to speak,
he gave orders for his warriors to proceed to the shell mound in the
midst of the marshes, on which he and Has-se had rested after their
flight from Fort Caroline, and there encamp and await his coming.
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