Scott nodded as pleasantly as he could in acknowledgment of the introduction, but Murphy only stared at them sullenly. The two newcomers took their places around the fire and they all sat in silence—waiting. The fog had thickened about them till they could see nothing outside the immediate circle of the firelight; the call of the cat owls still came to them faintly from the distant swamp and the waves lapped on the beach with a melancholy monotony which was getting on Scott’s nerves. He was beginning to wish that something would happen just to break the tension.
Then it came. There was a crunching of heavy boots in the sand and a figure loomed suddenly up out of the fog close on them. He was evidently somewhat dazzled by the firelight and did not notice that there were strangers present.
“Couldn’t make it any sooner, boys,” he apologized. “One of the cars got off the track and we had to unload the lumber to get back on, but they are started now and will be here before long.”
Scott had recognized him the instant he spoke as the superintendent of the turpentine camp.
CHAPTER XII
For a minute which seemed like an hour Scott stared at Roberts with every nerve on edge and every muscle tense. He had not the least idea what would happen when they were recognized, but he felt pretty sure that something would happen and he was prepared for any emergency. Murphy also was watching him keenly. He had not liked Scott’s caution in hiding up there at the camp or his failure to attack these two men when they first met them up on the railroad. He had recognized that they were virtually prisoners when these men had started to lead them back to their camp and he had wanted to fight then, but he had not wanted to cross Scott’s plans. Now he had decided that he would wait no longer. If he saw a good opportunity he was going to try to fight his way out. He did not expect to get very much help in that line from Scott. He recognized his ability in many things, but he did not consider that fighting was one of his accomplishments.
In a moment Roberts’ eyes had become accustomed to the light and the next instant he recognized Scott. His lip curled in a malicious sneer and his hand stole up toward the holster on his belt. He glanced from Scott to Murphy.
“So the kid was right,” he snarled. “He said there were a couple of sneaks in the canal this afternoon and we all thought that he was dreaming.”
“Seems to me you are quite a ways from home yourself, Mr. Roberts,” Scott remarked quietly. He saw they were in for it now and he thought that he might as well anger Roberts to see what he would say. He also watched him keenly to see what he would do. He remembered the frog he had seen this man shoot at the turpentine camp and he did not want to give him too good an opportunity to display his skill now.
Roberts glared at him with a fierce hatred which he did not try to disguise. “Not so far away from home as you will go when you leave here,” he hissed.