Part 26 (1/2)

”Yo'll nevah know!” The swamper's reply came swift and clear.

”No? Well, I'd think twice before I held to that answer if I were you,”

purred the other softly. ”A word to the Ralestones about those nightly walks of yours--”

”Won't give yo' what yo' want,” replied Jeems shrewdly.

”I see. Perhaps I have been using the wrong approach,” observed the Boss composedly. ”You work for a living, don't you?”

”Yes.”

”Then you know the value of money. What is your price? Come on, we won't haggle.”

The Boss' impatience colored his tone. ”How much do you want for this information?”

”Nothin'!”

”Nothing?”

”Ah ain't said nothin' an' Ah ain't a-goin' to say nothin'. 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 a.s.sailants 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. But he stood at ease, facing the cabin. His hands were hanging loosely at his sides and he was seemingly unconcerned by what confronted him. Suddenly his eyes flickered to the bushes at one side. Had Ricky betrayed herself, Val wondered breathlessly.

Clear now of the cabin, Val wriggled his way around the platform. In a minute he would be able to see the Boss and Red. He gripped the club.

Then Jeems stared straight into his face. But the swamper gave no sign of seeing Val. And that, to the boy's mind, was the greatest feat of all that afternoon. For Val knew that if he had been in Jeems' place he would have betrayed them both in his surprise.

The others were at last visible, their backs to Val. Nervously he sized them up. The Boss was tall and thin, but his movements suggested possession of wiry strength. Red, his brick-colored hair making him easy to identify, was shorter and thick across the shoulders, but his waistline was also thick and the boy thought that his wind was bad. Of the two, the Boss was the more dangerous. Red might lose his head in a sudden attack, but not the Boss. Val decided to tackle the latter.

Slowly he got from his knees to his feet. After the first quick glance, Jeems hadn't looked at him, but Val knew that the swamper was ready and waiting to take advantage of any diversion he might make.