An' yo'
bettah be a-gittin' offen this heah land of mine afo'--"
"Before what, swamper?" Red was taking a hand in the game.
"Yo' can't fright'n me with that gun," came calmly enough from Jeems.
"Yo' ain't a-goin' to risk shootin'--"
"There ain't no witnesses here, kid. And there ain't no law back in
these swamps. Yuh're gonna tell the Boss what he wants to know an'
yuh're gonna spill it quick, see? I know some ways of making guys
squeal--"
At that suggestion Val's fingers tightened on his club and Ricky choked
back a cry as her brother crept toward the corner of the cabin. Their
melodrama was fast taking on the color of tragedy.
"So yuh better speak up." Red was still encouraging Jeems.
There was no immediate answer from the swamper, but Ricky touched Val's
arm and nodded toward the bushes. She had decided that it was time for
her to leave. He agreed eagerly. She dropped lightly to the ground and
he watched her crawl away unnoticed by those in front who were so intent
upon the baiting of their quarry.
"Three minutes, swamper!"
Ricky was gone, free from whatever might develop. Val edged forward and
for the first time peered around the corner of the cabin. The two
assailants were still only voices, but he could see Jeems. The swamper's
face was bruised and there was a smear of dried blood across one cheek
as if he had already been roughly handled.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161