“You’re in with the Everglades gang, Tobey! That’s what you are. Ham! This old fellow doesn’t get away from us until officers come to take him. I’ve laid by the heels a big part of the ghost!”
But Ham Mockus had fled in speechless terror.
CHAPTER XIV
TOM HALSTEAD, STRATEGIST
A FORBIDDING countenance was that worn by black Mr. Kink.
He belonged to the worst species of shiftless, vagrant Southern darkey. He was as different from the respectable, dependable house negro as a stormy night is from a fair one. Kink had served many terms in jail ere he gained enough in the wisdom of his kind to take to the trackless wastes of the Everglades. The fellow’s face was scarred from many a brawl. He seldom laughed; when he did, it was in cruelty.
Kink was slighter, and far less powerful than Jabe, though he possessed far more of wiry agility than the other negro.
“Ah jes’ done hope yo’ make a move dat yo’ hadn’t done oughter,” he muttered, scowling at young Halstead, then fingering the rifle meaningly.
“Make your mind easy,” retorted Captain Tom. “I’ve no notion for laying myself liable to a rifle bullet.”