Two days after his departure Roger and Higgins were measuring the acreage cleared in the elder brush when one of the blacks said suddenly:
"Wha' dem man do ovah thah, Boss?"
Payne glanced out over the ditched sawgrass land whither the negro was pointing and saw three men carefully picking their way along the spoil banks beside the ditches.
Roger studied the group for a long time, then suddenly he dropped the measuring line and strode toward them.
"Right," growled Higgins, doing likewise. "Those fellows aren't just sightseeing by a darn sight."
Payne studied the men as he approached them. They were dressed in tourist apparel, but their hard faces belied their clothes. Each carried a cane, but the thick hands that held them would have appeared more at home gripping a blackjack or a revolver. The largest of the trio, a hard-faced man with thin lips, studiously placed himself across Roger's path.
"Well," he said, with the snarl of the city tough in his tones, "what can we do for you?"
Roger choked down the rage that lept for mastery in his breast and said calmly:
"You can explain your insolence to begin with."
"Don't come that—don't try to come that on us, kid! You ain't dealing with no crackers now. What do you want, huh?"