"Two snorts of
it and the dead walk!"
The captain leaned weakly against the rail.
"Where'm I hit?"
"Just above the belt."
"Bleedin' much?"
"No."
"Who--who shot me?"
"You're not shot at all, captain," interposed Payne. "You looked so
wicked with that knife, I just happened to tap you in a vital spot,
that's all."
"Wal--I ain't shot, sure 'nough!" exclaimed the relieved captain after
inspecting his mid-section. "What'd he hit me with, boys?"
Roger held up his hard brown fist.
"Sorry to do it, friend, but a man with a knife makes me see red."
The scarred man spoke up: "If you're sheriff's men, and if you think
we're going back with you----"
"I've told you we're just ordinary land buyers, going up to look at a
tract beyond the river."
"Know that snooper, Davis?"
"No, we took his part because you fellows were jumping him."
"Know anything about him--what his business is?"
"No; and don't care. The only business I'm interested in just now is
getting up the river."
"You can't go on this boat."
"So we were told down at the Key."
The captain consulted with the other three men.
"You got to get off here. We're going up to--to where you can't go.
We'll send an Indian down here to paddle you back to Gumbo Key. Get
off the boat!"
"Easy!" Roger was rapidly losing patience.
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