TALKING IT OVER
"Listen!"
It was Larry who gave utterance to this exclamation. Phil knew just
what his chum must have heard, for several times during the last ten
minutes the same sound had been faintly borne to his own ears, though
he had not seen fit to mention the fact.
Coming on the night breeze what seemed to be the barking of dogs might
be heard. Larry, apparently, did not know whether he could trust to
his own judgment.
"Say, ain't that dogs barking, Phil?" he asked.
"Well," replied the other, coolly, "I don't believe they've got any
wolves or coyotes down here in Northern Florida; and if they had, we
wouldn't be apt to hear them carrying on that way. On the whole,
Larry, I guess you'd be safe in calling it dogs, and letting it go at
that."
"Poor old Pete!" muttered Larry.
"What's that?" queried his boat-mate, in surprise. "Do you really
think our colored friend Pete is up against it again?"
"Why, he was going to come down this way, you know; and that sheriff
seemed so dead set on getting him, that he's chased his dogs all the
way," Larry explained.
Phil did not laugh, although he wanted to, for he knew Larry had a lot
to learn about the big outdoors, and its myriad tongues.
"Stop and think a bit, Larry," he said, soberly. "In the first place
that Sheriff Barker would hardly dare trust himself down here in the
McGee country. You remember what Tony told us about how they treated
him the last time he was here? And then again, if you notice
carefully, you'll find a vast difference between the bay of a hound
when on a trail, and the barking of dogs in a settlement."
"Oh! now I catch on to what you mean, Phil!" exclaimed Larry,
chuckling. "Then all that racket really comes from the village where
Tony's people live; and so we must be pretty close to his home right
now."
"That's sound logic, I take it, Larry. How about it, Tony?" asked
Phil, turning to the swamp boy, who sat there listening to what was
being said, but without saying a word.
"'Bout mile straight across; p'raps two mile round by river," he
replied.
"Just about what I thought," Phil went on. "You don't suppose, do you,
Tony, they could have heard us when you and Larry were having your
jig-time with the old mossback 'gator?"
"Might hear me shout, but b'lieve it other boys," was the reply which
Tony made.
"I'm glad of that," Phil remarked, though he did not explain just why.
"And the more I think about it," Larry spoke up, "the greater I feel
that I had a mighty narrow escape. Just you catch me dropping
overboard again while we're around this region! Why, Phil, would you
believe it, while I was fishing above, didn't I see as many as five of
the nasty wigglers go swimming past. Ugh! they give me a cold creep."
"Now what do you mean by wigglers?" demanded his companion.
"Snakes, ugly brown and yellow fellers, with a nasty head, and a wicked
look about 'em that I don't like a bit," Larry answered, readily, and
shuddering as he spoke.
"Oh! you mean those everlasting water moccasins, do you?" Phil laughed.
"Well, they are ugly customers, I admit. And I've heard that their
bite is mighty nearly as bad as the rattlesnake's, down here. How
about that, Tony?"
"Not so bad, oh, no!" the swamp boy quickly replied. "Sometimes leave
sore, not soon heal up. But weuns have medicine tuh take when
cotton-mouth or moccasin hit in leg with fangs. We splash when we go
through water in swamp, and skeer away. No bother much 'bout moccasin.
But rattler more trouble. Two year I get bit, and McGee have much hard
time keepin' his Tony."
"I suppose he soaked you with whisky in the good old backwoods way; but
Tony, they've got beyond that these days. Doctors have a remedy that
will in most cases save the patient, unless he goes too long before
being treated."
Phil had himself read up on the subject; but he made no effort to
explain to his two friends. Larry would never remember a single thing
about it; and the swamp boy of course could not have understood the
meaning of much that such an explanation would entail.
All the same Phil was secretly pleased to hear his chum say so
decidedly that he did not mean to again allow himself to drop
overboard. It would be just like Larry to get bitten in the leg by one
of those malignant little snakes, that continually threw themselves
into attitudes of defiance on the surface of the dark water, as though
ready to give battle to the invaders of their preserves. And in such a
case all sorts of trouble might ensue; though Phil's physician father
had provided him with the proper remedy to be used under such
conditions.
Tony had been so very quiet the whole evening that Phil knew his mind
must be taken up with some serious thought.
"What ails you, Tony?" he finally asked, as they still sat there, no
one seeming in any hurry to retire on this night. "I wouldn't worry
over things, if I were you. Leave matters to me. I'm dead sure I've
got that along with me to win over your awful dad, once he learns the
truth."
Tony sighed heavily.
"That sound well, Phil," he muttered disconsolately; "yuh mean all
right, sure; but yuh don't know McGee! He's gut a terrible temper!
Sometimes my mother, even she is 'fraid uh him. Then 'gain, he the
kindest man alive. Never know what come. Just like storm, he jump up
in summer--one minit sunshine, next howl, and pour down."
"And then it clears up, with the sun shining brighter than ever, ain't
that so, Tony? Of course it is. Well," went on Phil, sagely, "I guess
I can size the McGee up, all right. He's just got a fiendish temper.
He does things on the spur of the moment, that he's sorry for
afterwards. All right. I can understand such a man; and Tony, take it
for me, I'd rather deal with such a fiery disposition than the cold,
calculating one of the man who never gets mad. I'm going to win over
the McGee, see if I don't."
"Huh! just hope yuh do, Phil," said the other, eagerly. "If anybody
kin do that, yuh kin, I declar. But I'm 'fraid 'bout what he does w'en
he larns that yuh happens tuh be the boy uh Doc Lancing!"
"But Tony, you were thinking about something else too, besides this,"
the other went on, smilingly.
"Yep, that so, Phil," replied Tony, promptly, as though relieved in a
measure to change the conversation to some other subject.
"Was it not about the little sister you left up-river?" Phil continued;
for he could read the other like an open book.
"Madge!" murmured the swamp boy, and his soft way of pronouncing that
sweet name was the nearest approach to a caress in the human voice Phil
had ever heard.
"You're wondering now if the good doctor from the North has arrived on
time; and how the operation is going to pan out? Of course you're
worried; because you must be anxious to know the best, or the worst.
It was a shame that they chased you out of town before he arrived."
"I think so many times," said Tony; "but now I see it not so bad. If I
stay thar I never know you an' Larry. It heap worth while that I be
'long with yuh when yuh kim down hyah tuh the land uh the McGee.
P'raps Tony might help keep yuh from bein' whipped, er tarred an'
feathered."
"Good gracious!" ejaculated poor Larry, as he heard these fearful words
drop from the lips of the other; "you don't mean to say he'd think of
treating a couple of innocent, harmless kids like that, Tony? But then
Phil has a winning way about him; and I'm ready to bank on him to bring
your awful dad around."
"How about those pigeons, Tony; do you still believe one of them can
get back home, and bring the news your friend expects to send, after
the operation has been finished, one way or the other?"
Phil said this for two reasons. He really wanted to know what Tony
thought; and at the same time wished to change the conversation; for
Larry was apt to dwell upon that ugly black possibility of their
feeling the weight of the McGee's violent temper, even though they did
not merit the punishment in the least.
"I think they come home," Tony declared steadily. "They fly strong
lots times. Of course I never try far 'way, more'n ten mile. Let go
then, and always back in coop when I get home. Yep, sure one come with
message. Hope it soon, 'case then McGee he mebbe feel not so mad, an'
p'raps leave Phil go on down river."
Always was he thinking of his new companions. It gave Phil a strange
sensation in the region of his heart to realize how dear he and Larry
must have become to this wild son of the swamp, in the brief time he
had known them. And on their part, they too felt the keenest interest
in Tony McGee and his fortunes.
The hour grew late.
Once in a while some sound would be borne to their ears from the
quarter where as they knew by this time the settlement of the
shingle-makers lay. The night wind was soft and low, but it carried
whispers on its wings. Clouds still covered the heavens, and Phil
fancied that they might yet have rain, though there was really no sign
of one of those cold storms that periodically come chasing down from
the north in winter time, and are termed "Northers" by the shivering
crackers.
Larry was beginning to yawn. He did not really want to go to bed as
long as the others were up; but tired nature was getting the best of
his good intentions. And besides, he had gone through quite a little
stress while trying so furiously to climb that rope, so that his
muscles were actually sore, though he refrained from telling his chum
so, not wishing to be considered in the tenderfoot class any longer.
"Hello! none of that, now!" exclaimed Phil, as upon bending down, after
hearing a suspiciously heavy sound of breathing he discovered that
Larry had actually fallen asleep while sitting there. "Wake up, and
make your bed! The sooner you tumble in, the better for you, old top!
Why, you're snoring to beat the band."
"Don't want to go till the rest do," mumbled Larry.
"That's all right," laughed Phil, who could understand the real motive
that actuated the now ambitious Boy Scout; "we're all going to follow
suit. Hi! get a move on, Tony, and lug out your blanket. No matter
what happens, we oughtn't to let it keep us from getting a snooze.
That's good horse sense, believe me."
"Sure," said Larry, stirring with an effort, for he felt very stiff.
"Me to hit the downy pillow, which ain't so soft after all, if it is
made up of only air. But I'm dead tired, and want to rest the worst
kind. Thank you, Tony, for helping me. Ain't used to be chased by a
moss-back 'gator every day. Kind of gave me a bad five minutes, and I
must have taken a little cold too. Now I'm fixed all hunky dory. Good
night, fellows! Wake me early, mother dear, for tomorrow--tomorrow--"
Larry did not even finish the sentence. Sleep grappled with his
faculties as he was mumbling in this fashion.
"Say, he's off, Tony, as sure as you live," chuckled Phil. "My! don't
I sometimes wish I could forget all my troubles like Larry can, as soon
as he lays his head down. But no two are alike. And now Tony, that he
can't hear us, what's to be the programme in case they come tonight;
for I know you more'n half expect to see some of your people turn up
here, for Barker will have carried the news home?"
"Yuh jest mustn't do nawthin', Phil," said the swamp boy earnestly.
"If so be they comes, weuns has got tuh throw up our hands, and call
quits. Take hit jest as cool as yuh kin, an' leave hit tuh me. They
ain't agwine tuh hu't yuh, so long's Tony McGee's 'long. An' I sure
means tuh let 'em know what all yuh done foh me. Jest hold up yuh
han's, and say yuh was acomin' down hyah tuh talk with McGee. An' I
reckons as how yuh won't be in too big a hurry tuh tell how yuh happens
tuh be Doc. Lancing's boy."
With these last words of Tony's ringing in his ears Phil lay down to
try and coax sleep to visit his eyes. But he knew he would have a
difficult task, because of the fact that his affairs were now
approaching the climax which, viewed from afar had not seemed so
serious, but which now took on a more somber hue.
Tony had crawled forward, where he cuddled under his warm blanket.
Phil knew that he had taken particular pains to settle himself down, so
that he could easily stretch out his hand, and touch the new comrade of
whom he had become so fond. It was a mute expression of his devotion;
just after the same manner as shown by the favorite hound that curls
himself up at his master's feet, where he can be ready to defend him
against any ill that springs up unexpectedly.
"Oh! I never wished so much before in all my life," Phil was saying to
himself over and over, as he lay there thinking, "that things would
turn out all right; and somehow I just seem to feel, deep down in my
heart, that they must, they must!"
By degrees his eyes became heavy. He had not enjoyed any too much
sleep since the cruise had started. One thing and another had
conspired to keep him awake each night; and although Phil was a lad of
unusual will power, he had found it beyond him to altogether shut out
the possibilities that lay in wait for them in the near future.
Finally he slept.
The night wore on, so that several hours passed. From down-stream
there came a low sound that was not unlike the dip of paddles. Tony
raised his head the better to listen; and from this fact it became
evident that the devoted swamp lad had not allowed himself to secure a
minute's sleep up to that time.
He listened. Sometimes the sound seemed clear, and then again it would
die away, according to the whim of the night air. But Tony was
accustomed to judging such things. He presently made up his mind that
the dip of paddles was getting continually closer; and that one boat at
least was ascending the river, crossing from side to side, as it might
be.
Having ascertained this fact to his own satisfaction, Tony reached out
his hand, and touched the face of Phil, which was only partly covered
by the blanket.
"Yes, what is it, Tony?" whispered the other, arousing instantly,
though he had been in a sound slumber at the time.
"They come!" replied the swamp boy, in a tone inaudible five feet away.
Phil was conscious of a sudden thrill of anticipation. No one could
say what the immediate future held for himself and his chum. And the
discovery of the tied-up motor boat would now be a matter of short
duration, once those keen-eyed men from the squatter settlement arrived
on the scene.
So Phil only sat there and awaited developments.