The four men on the
boat were natives of the section. He had not yet been able to fathom
just what nature of men they were or what their business was, but he
suspected the latter to be something illegal, and despite the poor
showing they had made in the fight on the boat it was apparent that
there was in them at least a tinge of the desperado. The swamps of
Southern Florida, he knew, were favorite hiding places for scores of
bad men. These men probably spent a good deal of time on the river
which he must use, and therefore he had no wish to make them his deadly
enemies.
"Don't take that wheel, cap!" said one of the men suddenly. "And keep
your trap closed."
The scarred man turned and stared sullenly into the barrel of Higgins'
revolver.
"Go ahead and shoot. That's the only way I'll go up there."
"Don't want to go alive, eh?"
"Ain't--allowed--to go--at all."
"Hold on, Hig," repeated Roger. "Don't be unreasonable."
"Unreasonable, hell! We're on our way, aren't we? Going to let 'em
stop us?"
"We've got no quarrel with these men. We'll use a little reason."
"Go ahead, you're the boss." Higgins retired to the starboard rail,
but he did not sheath Old Betsy.
"Can you tell me the reason you are afraid to go on?" asked Roger.
"Ain't afraid to go there.
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