“These two men,” he said, “are whiskey boat men. They have no more claim on this boat than you have.”
CHAPTER XVIII.—A FORBIDDEN SUBJECT.
While Alex was having his troubles with the two gangs of outlaws, and while Jule and Case were asleep in a thicket at the cove, Clay was pushing his way through a heavy undergrowth in the direction of a shabby-looking farm house which stood in the center of a weed-grown tobacco field not far away.
As he approached the uncared for fence which surrounded the field, he heard horses stamping and champing at their bits in the woods not far away to his left.
At first he thought seriously of visiting the undergrowth on a tour of investigation, but finally decided that his actions might be misconstrued, so he passed on toward the house in the tobacco field.
It seemed to him that half a hundred dogs of all sizes and breeds leaped out as he advanced through the weeds toward the front door.
He was having his hands full with the dogs, fending them off, when the door opened and a woman made her appearance on the threshold.
“Down, you ornery purps!” she shouted in a voice that sounded more like that of a man than that of a woman. “Come right along in, stranger,” she added. “I reckon they won’t bite you up none.”
Under the protection of the woman’s voice and presence, Clay finally succeeded in making his way to the house.
“I’m sure ashamed of them ornery purps,” the woman declared, striking at a large brindle dog with a mop stick. “Somehow I can’t beat no manners into ’em!”