"If you say that again I'll twist off your palsied head with these two hands," Jess held them under Efaw Kotee's nose and wriggled his fingers, until the old man shrank back, cowering. "The men'll follow me when I tell 'em you play double, an' you know it! You swine, I'm sick of this place! I'm going to take my share of the stuff, an' the girl, an' clear out! It's been fifteen years since we raised these cabins--more'n that! An' what have we got? Plenty of the slickest money ever printed--an' the other stuff, too--an' you afraid to take a chance. Three times I've stopped a mutiny for you, an' you'd be dead an' buried if I hadn't. Then came this last when things went wrong. You say the girl peached, but 'tween you an' me I say you tried to turn State's evidence--don't deny anything," he held up his hand when the other would have interrupted. "That's passed now. But I've agreed to forget it, to keep the mutinies stopped for keeps--by marrying the girl. You agreed, too. Now you talk of backing out. Is killing too good for you?" "I don't want to, Jess; I don't, honest," Efaw Kotee said, with a whine. "But you see yourself how she is! If we rush the place, day or night, she'll kill herself. Tell me what to do, and I'll do it!" "You've done about all you can for a while," Jess grumbled, adding: "If she don't run away." "Where'd she run to?" the other sneered. "Well, some kind friend might show her!" "You're crazy," the chief contemptuously exclaimed. "Crazy or not, you just see that she doesn't. Then, if starving three days doesn't bring her, maybe crucifying _you_ head down might do the trick." "Wha--what d'you mean?" The old fellow sprang around and stared at him, seeming to have grown hollow and gray. "Oh, nothing," Jess grinned. "Just a little idea I had--worth keeping in mind, though. It might be healthy for you to see she can't run off, that's all." Efaw Kotee looked at the captain suspiciously, and said: "I'll guarantee she doesn't run off--and your other little ideas aren't pleasant. Let's go back and have a drink." When they had entered the bungalow a silence fell over the settlement. I did not see a man anywhere. But I drew a long breath of relief because Sylvia was for a little while safe, even while I raged at the realization of her danger. My body was cramped, and cautiously I stretched my legs. Smilax had not moved. "It looks like we got here just in time," I whispered. "But what shall we do?" He relaxed then, and slowly answered: "Me think 'while. Echochee good old woman; always kind to l'il black boy." "You know her?" I could hardly have hoped for that stroke of luck. "Me know all Seminole; not many left. 'Echochee' mean what white man say 'li'l deer.' She old woman when me l'il black boy in Reservation. Me think 'while; you, too."