Part 15 (1/2)

That day, devoted in considerable part to the discussion of plans, pa.s.sed without important incident. The slackers came and went, the boys kept mostly to themselves, discreetly remaining within the borders of the camp, and there was peace. But at supper they noticed a studied coolness toward them, particularly in the larger group of which Sweet Jackson was the center. While the boys spoke and acted with all discretion, Jackson stared at them often, talking in a low voice to those about him. His grudge against Ted was plainly visible and he seemed to be trying to stir up the other men against him. The boys went off to bed early, much troubled in mind. At the camp fire the next night Sweet Jackson deliberately stepped out of his path in order to hook his toe under Ted's outstretched leg and give it a rude and vicious shove.

”Why can't you keep yer feet out o' the road?” he shouted angrily.

”Why don't you do that to a man of your size?” cried Ted in hot indignation.

”_Size_ don't bother me when I get good and mad,” declared Jackson menacingly.

”Oh, Billy, don't you want to play a game!” called out Hubert in the most cheerful voice. ”Come on, Ted.”

Then Hubert jerked Ted to his feet and pulled him away in the direction of the imaginary Billy, who was, in fact, nowhere to be seen. ”_Don't_ answer him back,” whispered the younger boy urgently. ”If you do, we'll have trouble. Keep away from him!”

Thus the incident pa.s.sed and with it any immediate danger, thanks to Hubert's ready and resolute interference.

The next day at breakfast and dinner July served the boys after the slackers had eaten and scattered--at Hubert's suggestion. And at supper he fed them with Billy at the cook-camp fire about forty feet apart from the fire around which the slackers ate and lounged. Sweet Jackson observed the new arrangement with a mocking smile, looking over at the cook-camp often as he talked merrily with those about him.

”That's right,” he called out once. ”Stay there with the n.i.g.g.e.r, where you belong.”

Ted started up, furious, but Hubert hung upon him on one side and Billy, giggling and thinking it was a kind of game, hung upon him on the other.

”_Don't!_” warned Hubert.

And then, as several of the slackers spoke up in protest, Jackson made no further hostile demonstration.

Too outraged to speak, or even to think clearly, Ted soon rose and almost literally staggered off to bed.

”We'll have to go--to-day or to-night,” were his first words to Hubert next morning, after a sleepless night.

This was at breakfast, after the slackers had scattered. He had purposely stayed in bed late in order to avoid them. He now spoke while the negro noisily cleaned his pots.

”Well, I've pumped July about all the trails leading out he knows of,”

said Hubert, ”and all we've got to do is to make a choice and beat it at the first chance.”

Suddenly the negro turned from his pots and planted himself in front of the two boys, his face very serious.

”Cap'n Ted,” he began, ”you reckon I kin 'pend on what you said 'bout gittin' a cook's job behind de lines in dat waw?”

”I can't say for certain, July, but I think you can.”

”Well, I got to tek de risk anyhow,” the negro announced with an air of finality. ”I's gwine out o' dis swamp. I's done wid dat gang o' white trash. I got my dose. I gwine out wid you boys.”

”That's great,” cried Hubert. ”But what's happened, July?”

”Dis mawnin' when I was workin' de bes' I knowd how an' givin' dem men good vittles, dey up an' made fun o' my hair. Dat-ere Sweet Jackson 'lowed dat a n.i.g.g.e.r wasn't a rale human pusson because, stid o' hair, he had wool on his haid. Den dey all looked at me an' laughed till dey shook. I wished I could 'a' tole 'em dey was a liar and a-busted 'em wide open!”

”That was very unkind,” said Ted, struggling hard, as did Hubert, not to laugh.

”I reckon you boys done had all you want o' dat gang yo'sef,” said July, ”an' in as big a hurry to git away fum yuh as I is.”

”Yes,” agreed Hubert. ”This is the fourth day and Mr. Peters and Mr.

Jones haven't come back. There's no telling _when_ Mr. Hardy will come.