The reason for the stakes following the old road so steadily soon became apparent, for a little farther on it entered the thickest jungle the lad had ever seen. On both sides rose gigantic trees, matted together by great entwining creepers, and on each side of the road lay stagnant pools of water, covered with nauseous-smelling green slime. Not a sound of life came from the jungle's gloomy depths. The only living things seemed to be the huge, sluggish moccasins that slipped noiselessly from the road into the pools as the mule approached. Evidently the surveyor had decided that the old road was the only feasible route through the jungle.
Suddenly Charley ducked his head, as a whining, singing sound, passed over him. He had heard that whining message before, and knew it for what it was.
"A rifle bullet," he ejaculated, bewildered, as he reined in the mule and looked around. But no powder smoke met his searching gaze, and no report followed the bullet's whine.
Again it came, that menacing, whining sound, and from a tree close beside where he sat on the mule an inch-thick branch rattled to the ground, cut clean from the tree by the bullet.
Still Charley remained motionless, not knowing which way to go, backward or forward, but the next whining bullet decided the matter for him. It plowed a bit of skin from the mule's flank, and the startled animal, leaping forward, began to run. By the time the lad got it under control they were half a mile from where the shooting had taken place.
"Whew! That was almost uncanny," the lad muttered to himself. "No smoke, no report, nothing but the whizzing of the bullets. It was not any native of these parts doing that firing, that's a cinch. The Indians and cowmen do not know that there are such things in existence as smokeless powder and Maxim silencers."
The weird jungle proved to be about two miles across, and Charley soon, with a feeling of relief, rode out into a pleasant, open country, dotted with small, clear-water lakes. He now began to come upon signs of life: cows grazing on the short, crisp grass; hogs rooting in the soft, muddy places. He grinned, as, turning a curve in the road, he came suddenly upon a group of Indian maidens, bathing in a little lake, and who, with shrill cries, bolted for the cover of a thicket when they spied him. Charley, with a grin on his face, kept his head turned the other way as he rode past. Not long after passing them he began to come upon patches of cultivated ground, and the thatched-roofed, open-walled dwellings of the Indians. At the first dwelling he dismounted and fastened the mule to a tree. The Indians from all the shelters crowded around him with eager greetings. He was delighted to find among the crowd many whom he had met before in the Everglades. These were apparently delighted to see him, and gravely made him acquainted with the rest of the tribe, which was composed of about one hundred braves, besides women and children. They insisted upon his having dinner with them. They fed and watched the mule, and altogether made him feel that he was among friends. For his part Charley was astonished at the evidences of prosperity this tribe exhibited. Their ponies, dress, and dwellings were far superior to any other tribes that he had ever met up with. But what astonished him most was the patches of cultivated ground. Never before had he seen such a wonderful growth of corn, yams, melons, and pumpkins.