Chums in Dixie Part 3

"And you've never been up in this region before, Tony?" asked Larry.

"Never has, sah. I wuks with the men, cuttin' s.h.i.+ngles. It's the on'y way we has of getting money. Twict a yeah a boat creeps up the river from the gulf and we loads the stacks o' s.h.i.+ngles on her. More'n a few times it been a tug that kim arter the cypress bunches. Onct I went down on a boat; and dad he took me tuh Pensacola. That's sure been the on'y time I ever was in a city. I got two books thar."

He said this last as though it might have been the most important part of his visit to civilization; and Phil smiled as he watched the varying emotions on the eager face of the swamp boy whom he only knew as Tony.

Then, as though he might have some reason for so doing, Phil once more returned to the subject that seemed to be of prime importance in his sight.

"Now about this big McGee," he remarked; "is he such a terrible fellow, of whom even his own family keeps in terror?"

"That's what every one says, sah," returned the boy, quickly; "but 'taint right tuh jedge a man by what his enemies tells. McGee is a big man, a giant; he's strong as an ox; and his people they looks up tuh him right smart. He's knocked a man down more'n once, with a blow from his fist; but 'twas when he needed a lesson. The McGee has a heart, sah, I give yuh my word on that. He keers a heap foh his wife and his chillen."

"Oh! then he has a wife and children?" remarked Phil, "and he thinks considerable of them, does he? Perhaps, after all, he may be more sinned against than sinning. You know of your own account that he cares for these children, do you?"

"Sure I do," replied the other, eagerly, and for the moment forgetting his caution. "I tell yuh, sah, that if it hadn't been foh all o' the lot that wrastled with him, he would a-come up hisself with the little gal, 'stead o' lettin' me do that same."

"Oh! you mean with Madge, your sister Madge?" cried Phil.

The boy nodded his head, a little sullenly, as though realizing what a mess he had made of the secret he had thought to keep a while longer, at least.

"But why should the terrible McGee bother his head about you and Madge?" Phil demanded, smiling in Tony's face.

Thereupon the swamp boy drew himself up proudly, as though he were about to announce himself the descendant of a race of kings, while he replied:

"Because, sah, the McGee is Madge's dad, an' mine! I'm Tony McGee!"

CHAPTER IV

DOWN THE SWIFT CURRENT

Evidently Phil was not so very much surprised after all, at this formidable announcement on the part of the boy with the sallow face.

Perhaps he had even suspected something of the kind for quite a little time back. At least such a thing would account for the way in which he had been leading Tony along, until he unwittingly, in defending his father, gave his secret away.

From the look on his face it seemed as though the boy half feared that these new friends would turn against him when they learned how McGee was his father. He was therefore considerably surprised to have Phil reach out, and grasp his hand in a warm clutch.

"You knew my name as soon as you heard it, Tony," he said, with a smile that went straight to the heart of the ragged lad. "And ever since you've been trying to get me to give up this mission of mine. It tells me that you've already begun to think something of Phil Lancing. And it encourages me to think your father will do the same, after he gets to know me."

But Tony shook his head, as if in great doubt.

"Oh! if you knowed just how he's come to hate that name, you wouldn't dast let him see yuh," he said. "All sorts o' things has been told 'bout how your dad meant tuh chase weuns off'n his land. Some even says as how the soldiers was agwine tuh be used tuh hunt the squatters through the swamps whar they has lived always, an' which is the on'y home they got."

"All of which is a lie made out of whole cloth," declared Phil, indignantly, "my father isn't that sort of man. Why, he wanted to come down here himself and meet the McGee face to face; but he had an important lot of business on hand. Perhaps he may show up yet! And when your father once comes to know him, he'll never have cause to feel sore toward Dr. Gideon Lancing, because he happens to be a rich man."

"I've heard 'em talkin' about it heaps," said Tony, "an' they 'spect to have tuh fight sooner or later. They's a hard lot, and live a wild life. Yuh couldn't blame 'em much for hatin' the name of the man they look on as their enemy."

"Wait a little while, Tony. I'm bound to meet your father, and see if I can't change that stubborn mind of his. Perhaps I've got some magic about me. Perhaps I could show him something that would change a foe into a friend. Anyhow, all you say doesn't alter my mind a mite," and Phil smiled into the troubled face of the swamp boy as he spoke.

Larry had listened to all this with the greatest interest. While he might to some extent share the confidence of his chum, still he did not feel quite so positive about the warmth of their welcome by the lawless band of s.h.i.+ngle-makers peopling the lower reaches of the river that emptied into the gulf.

So they occasionally chatted as they moved along down the stream. Phil asked a great variety of questions concerning the possibilities of the country they were now pa.s.sing through, as a game preserve.

"They's deer tuh be had aplenty," Tony had answered, readily enough; "an' now an' then a b'ar. Cats and c.o.o.ns c'n be run across any old time. Once in a long spell yuh see a painter. Turkeys lie on the sunny sides o' the swales an' ridges. Then in heaps o' places yuh c'n scare up flocks o' pa'tridges as fat as b.u.t.ter."

"They call quail by that name down here," remarked Phil, turning to Larry; "just as they call our black ba.s.s of the big mouth species a 'trout' in Florida. You have to understand these things, or else you'll get badly mixed up. And Tony, my chum here wants to know how about squirrels; for he thinks he could bag a few of that species of small game, given a chance, with my Marlin pump-gun."

"Sho! no end o' 'em along the hamaks, both grays an' fox squirrels,"

replied the swamp boy; "they's a tough lot though; and weuns always boils a squirrel fust before we fries him."

"I've done that many a time myself," laughed Phil; "so I guess the frisky little nut-crackers are about the same, North and South. But they make a good stew all right, when a fellow's sharp set with hunger.

I can remember eating a mess, and thinking it the finest supper ever."

A good many miles had been covered by the time the afternoon waned; although not a great deal of southing may have been made. That river was the greatest thing to curve, and twist back on its course, Phil had ever met with. He declared that in some places he could throw a stone across a neck of land into the water which the boat had pa.s.sed over half an hour back.

"Makes me think of a great big snake moving along over the ground,"

Larry had declared as he discussed this feature of the stream with the others.

But Tony a.s.sured them that as they progressed further this peculiarity would for the most part gradually vanish, and the river, growing wider and deeper, act in a more sensible manner.

The country was certainly as wild as heart could wish.

"Just to think," Larry had remarked, "outside of a few shanties below the town we haven't set eyes on the first sign of a man all afternoon.

Why, a feller might imagine himself in the heart of Africa, or some other tropical country. Look at that big blue heron wading in the water ahead, would you? There he flaps his wings, and is off, with his long legs sticking out from under him like a fis.h.i.+ng pole."

"Which is just about what they are," returned Phil; "since he has to use them to get his regular fish dinner right along. There's a white crane; and what d'ye call that other handsome white bird that just got up, Tony?"

"Ibis. Ain't so many 'round hyah nowadays as they used tuh be. Some fellers gits on tuh their roosts and nestin' places, an' kills the birds when they got young uns. My dad just hates them critters like pizen. He caught a cracker onct as done it, an' they give him a coat, all right. He never dast shoot another bird ag'in, I'm tellin' yuh."

"Meaning that they tarred and feathered him?" said Phil, who was better able to grasp the meaning of the swamp boy than innocent Larry, to whom all such language was like Hebrew or Greek. "Well, I'm glad to hear that your father has such notions. And it tells me he isn't the savage some of these up-river people tried to make us believe. For any man who would shoot the mother birds, and leave the young to starve in the nests, just for the sake of a dollar or two, ought to get tarred and feathered! Them's my sentiments, Tony!"

"Hear! hear! ditto! Count me in!" chirped Larry, nodding his head positively; for he had a tender heart; and the plaintive cry of starving nestlings would appeal to him strongly--even though he had never as yet heard such a thing.

"I believe that a true sportsman ought to never destroy more game than he can make use of," Phil continued, for the subject was one very close to his heart. "My father taught me that long ago; and I've grown to think more of it right along. I've known men to throw trout by dozens up on the bank, when their creel was as full as it could hold. They seemed to think that unless a fish was killed there could be no fun in capturing it."

"Say, don't they call those kind of chaps game butchers?" asked Larry.

"Right you are, Larry; and I'm glad to see that you've got the breed sized up to a dot. I'd let a deer trot past me without pulling trigger if I knew we had all the meat we could use in camp."

"But just now that doesn't happen to apply," remarked the other, pointedly.

"Hold the wheel for a minute, Larry, quick!" said Phil, in a low, thrilling tone.

He instantly s.n.a.t.c.hed up the repeating gun as soon as his chum's fingers had closed upon the steering wheel. Larry turned his eyes to look ahead, for he realized that his companion must have seen something.

A cras.h.i.+ng sound was heard. Then he had a glimpse of a dun colored object flitting through the scrub palmettoes under the pines.

"Oh! that was a deer, wasn't it?" Larry exclaimed.