With no final word of extenuation Philip went. Diane stumbled hurriedly through the trees to Keela's camp and touched the Indian girl frantically upon the shoulder. "Keela," she cried desperately, "wake! wake! It's sunrise. Let us go somewhere--anywhere--and leave this treacherous world of civilization behind us. I--I am tired of it all." Keela stared. "Very well," she said sedately a little later. "You and I, Diane, we will journey to my home in the Glades. There--as it was a century back--so it is now." CHAPTER XXXV THE WIND OF THE OKEECHOBEE Southward along the beautiful Kissimmee river, where the fabled young grandee of Spain kissed the plaintive Seminole maid, rumbled the great green van and the camp of Keela. Southward, unremittingly protective, followed the silent music-machine. For though the dear folly and humor were things of the past, like Arcadia, a true knight may surely see that his willful lady comes to no harm though he must worship from afar. And at length they came to the final fringe of civilization edging the Everglades where, despite repeated protests, Johnny must stay behind with the cumbrous van. And now the Southern woods were gloriously a-riot with blossoms; with dogwood and magnolia, with wild tropical blossoms of orange and scarlet; and the moon hung wild and beautiful above the Everglades. "Little Spring Moon!" said Keela softly in Seminole. Diane thought suddenly of a late moon above a marsh. "He--he can not follow me into those terrible wilds ahead," she thought with sudden bitterness. "I shall be free at last from his dreadful spying." At sunrise one morning they bade Johnny adieu and struck off boldly with the Indian wagon into the melancholy world of the Everglades. "It is better," said Keela gravely, "if you wear the Seminole clothes you wore at Sherrill's. They are in the wagon. My people love not the white man." "But--" stammered Diane. "They will think," explained Keela shyly, "that you are a beautiful daughter of the sun from the wilderness of O-kee-fee-ne-kee. You are brown and beautiful. Such, they tell, was my grandmother. It is a legend of my mother's people, but I do not think," added Keela majestically, "that the wild and beautiful tribe of mystery who were sons and daughters of the Sun, are half so beautiful as you!"