A GLOOMY OUTLOOK
"What can we do, Phil?"
As Larry put this question he looked mournfully at his chum, and tried
to keep from shivering, though it was indeed hard work.
The night had passed. Both boys had been allowed a chance to secure
some sleep, having been placed in an empty shanty; but as neither of
them dared lie down on the straw that formed a rude couch on the board
floor, they were compelled to "snatch a few winks," as Larry termed it,
sitting up.
In the morning they had been fed, after a fashion. Larry bemoaned the
fact that while he had to partake of the unsavory mess or go hungry,
all that fine "grub" was going to waste on the Aurora, not more than a
mile away.
Phil did not show the anxiety he felt. Since coming into personal
contact with the terrible McGee he had lost some of the enthusiasm and
confidence that had up to then marked his actions. The leader of the
squatter clan was so much more formidable than he had anticipated, that
Phil himself began to fear his mission was doomed to be a failure.
It was a serious outlook they faced, particularly Phil. They might
allow Larry to get off scot free, since he was not a Lancing, and
looked so innocent of any wrong intent; but with Phil the matter was
different.
What if the stubborn giant utterly refused to believe the good
intentions of the new owner of the cypress swamp lands? What if he
felt convinced that it was all a sly trick; and that the millionaire
had sent his son down simply to take notes, in order that presently the
sheriff, backed by the State troops, could enforce the edict of
eviction?
Phil always put that idea away from his mind when it tried to force
itself upon him. And yet from every hand he had heard that McGee was a
most determined man, who, having conceived a thing, could not be
changed. Even his own wife and son had said that about him.
And so, still hoping for the best, Phil now turned toward his troubled
chum, with a forced smile on his face.
"Nothing much, I guess, Larry; only wait for a chance to talk again
with McGee," he replied, cheerily.
"But the morning is passing, and he doesn't seem to want to see you at
all," complained the other.
"But sooner or later he will, you mark me," answered the positive one,
wishing to ease the strain he knew was on Larry's poor mind.
"But you told his wife what sort of message you carried," Larry went
on, his voice dejected enough to imagine him at a funeral; "and sure
she must have managed to let him know, because she promised to do all
she could."
"That's what I'm banking on," Phil continued. "She must have more or
less influence with McGee. He is proud of her education; and wants his
children to follow after her, and not be raised as ignorant as himself.
So perhaps the leaven in the lump will work. Only when he gets one of
his pig-headed streaks on, nobody in the world can influence him, Tony
admits."
"Poor Tony looked so mournful when he brought in our breakfast; I felt
bluer than ever just to see him," remarked Larry.
"Yes, the boy is really fond of us," Phil declared, with conviction in
his tone. "He can see further than his obstinate dad, and knows the
golden opportunity for a future is now in the grasp of McGee. He
dreads the result of passion blinding his father to everything else."
"So do I," asserted Larry, briskly. "I can't help thinking of what
Tony said about making that sheriff into a bird! What if they take a
notion to do us that way. Just imagine me with a nasty, sticky coat of
black tar; and then covered with downy feathers! Oh, my goodness!
Phil, however would I get it off again? Every inch of skin would come
with it."
"Well, don't get cold feet, Larry, whatever you do," remarked his chum;
though the gruesome picture Larry drew made him shut his teeth hard
together, and turn a trifle pale. "I'm in hopes that, no matter what
they do to me, they'll let you off, because you're not concerned in
this matter at all."
"Ain't I?" cried Larry, indignantly. "I'm your chum, I guess; and
what's good enough for you is ditto for me. If they hand you a new
coat, think I'm going to let 'em skip me in the bargain sale? Not for
Joseph! Not for a minute! Sink or swim, survive or perish, we're
pards, you and me, Phil. If you can stand it, sure I ought to; and
that's flat!"
Phil stretched out his hand, and squeezed that of his comrade. At any
rate it was worth something just to learn how loyal a chum he had;
though perhaps he might have fancied some other way of ascertaining the
fact.
"Seems to me there's a whole lot of excitement going on outside there!"
remarked Larry, suspiciously, some time later. "And I'm going to try
and see if I c'n get a squint at the same. Perhaps this is a holiday
for the McGees. Perhaps they're bent on having high jinks because they
expect to feast on that nice supply of civilized grub in our motor
boat. Oh! won't I just be glad if ever we get back to decent living
again. Hoe cake baked in ashes may be filling; but it don't strike me
just in the right spot; and especially after I've seen the old woman
who cooked it, too. Ugh!"
Grumbling in this fashion Larry proceeded to climb up to the little
window that seemed to be at some distance from the floor; and which
made Phil believe this particular shanty must have originally been
intended for a prison of some sort.
A minute later a loud exclamation and lament from Larry drew his
attention.
"What's all the row?" he demanded, his own curiosity aroused.
"Oh! if you could only see what they're doing, Phil?" groaned the
clinging one, as he still stared out of the small opening through which
the outside air reached the captives of the squatter tribe.
"Suppose you tell me, then?" suggested Phil, promptly enough.
"Don't you believe these shingle-makers down here may have just a
little touch of Injun blood in their veins?" demanded Larry. "Because,
as sure as anything, they're driving two big stakes right into the
ground out here--two of 'em, do you understand, Phil? And the kids are
a-dancin' around like the very old Harry; just like Injuns might do
when they expected to burn a prisoner at the stake!"
"What!" cried Phil, staggered at first; and then incredulous at the
strange assertion of his chum, he too started to climb up the rough log
wall so as to reach the window opening.
"There, look for yourself, Chum Phil!" gasped Larry, as the other
joined him. "I just felt it in my bones I would come to some bad end.
But, oh! what would my poor mother think if she knew her boy was going
to be a candle, a torch!"
"Oh, shucks! Larry, don't you believe that sort of stuff!" Phil
declared, even though it did look very significant to see those twin
stakes being driven into the ground, with a crowd of ragged and
barefooted youngsters showing savage delight, as keen as though a
circus had come to town.
"Then what are they meaning to do with those stakes?" demanded Larry.
"Oh! well, that's hard to say," stammered Phil. "Perhaps they do
expect to fix us up there, just for a frolic, and have some fun with
us. But even McGee, ugly as he is, wouldn't dream of burning anybody
at the stake!"
"All right then, it's the other thing," said Larry. "Just look at what
they're luggin' over now, and tell me if you can, what it is."
When the industrious bunch of half-grown boys opened up enough for Phil
to get a glimpse of the heavy object that engaged their attention, he
could not keep from uttering an exclamation of chagrin.
"See, you know just as well as I do that it's a sure melting pot for
tar!" exclaimed Larry, hoarsely. "Anybody with one eye could see that,
because there's tar all over it. Guess they use it with some of their
boats. And Phil, look at that old hag toting that awful bag on her
head. What d'ye suppose is in that but geese feathers as old as the
hills! Oh, murder! we're up against it good and hard. I can almost
feel my wings beginning to sprout right now!"
"Hold on, Larry," Phil remarked. "It looks like they meant to scare
us, and have a little fun at our expense; but that doesn't mean they'll
go through the whole performance. Give me a chance to spring my
father's letter on McGee, and see what it does to him. Why, he would
have to be next door to crazy to refuse such a magnificent offer to go
into partnership with the man who owns these lands; for that's about
what it means in the end."
"But they say he is nigh crazy when he gets one of his stubborn fits
on!" declared the other, dejectedly. "He just can't see anything else
but the one thing that's on his mind. And right now, Phil, that's the
fact of his having in his power the only son of the man he hates like
poison. Besides, you told me he said he couldn't read a word; so how's
he goin' to know that the letter says what you declare it does?"
Phil had himself thought of that.
"His wife could read it for him, or perhaps even Tony," he said.
"Aw! d'ye think a suspicious man like McGee would trust either of 'em
in a matter like this? Not for a minute, Phil. He'd think they might
be fooling him, just to save us from getting our downy coats. Try
something else, please."
"Tony said there was one old fellow in the settlement who could read,"
observed Phil, thoughtfully. "Don't you remember he told us a queer
story about old Daddy Mixer, who seems to be some sort of natural
doctor among these people, and comes by his name from mixing all sorts
of herbs as medicine. He can read; and besides, McGee would believe
him where he mightn't his own family."
"Say, that's so!" exclaimed Larry, looking decidedly interested. "And
you could ask to have him read it out loud, so everybody might hear the
generous offer your good dad makes to every man, woman and child now
living on his lands down here. Oh! perhaps it might sweep the crowd
off their feet. Don't I hope now it does that same thing. I ain't
yearning for a new suit of down one little bit."
"It may please the ragtag and bobtail crowd from the ground up," said
Phil soberly; "but you take it from me, Larry, unless McGee himself is
convinced, there's nothing doing. He's the Great Mogul of this place,
the PooBah of the swamp settlement. When he takes snuff they all
sneeze. He holds all the offices; and not a man-jack of them dares to
say a word, when McGee holds up his finger. He rules with a rod of
iron. So it is McGee alone I'm hoping to convince. That done, the
others will fall in line, just like knocking down a row of bricks."
"There he is now, with a lot of the men around him. They keep looking
over this way, Phil, like they were talking about us."
"And I guess that's what they're doing," remarked the other, as he
watched the gesticulating group a minute. "I wonder, now, has Tony's
mother spread the news far and wide among the other women of the
village? What if they've already scented the glorious chance to get
the things they've just wanted all their lives? And each woman may
have been laying down the law to her man! Yes, they seem to be arguing
about something or other, for most of 'em look sour or disgruntled."
"But just notice McGee, would you?" sighed Larry. "He looks as black
as thunder when he speaks first to one and then to another. They're
dead afraid of him, that's what! They've had their say, and he's put a
damper on it all. See him shake his fist at that fellow; and how he
cringes like a whipped cur! Oh! Phil, whatever did you come down here
to try and do anything for that terrible tyrant?"
But Phil shook his head, as though not yet wholly convinced that he had
made a serious blunder in undertaking the trip.
"There is a heap of good in that man," he declared between his set
teeth; "if only one could get under his tough hide. I'm still hoping
the letter will strike home with him, Larry. Don't lose all hope yet!"
"But if it doesn't, we're in a bad box, Phil," said Larry, despairingly.
"Looks like it," Phil admitted, grimly. "But anyhow, we're not going
to be kept in suspense long, for he's sending a couple of fellows this
way; and it must be they mean to take us out."
Larry drew a long breath, and slipped down from his perch, looking very
pale.