The old man stopped in his tracks, looked carefully around him, then cocked an eye up into the tree. He frowned, his grey eyebrows making a V over his deep-set eyes. He shook his head in disapproval, but said nothing until he was directly under the tree.
"What I'm doin' isn't important," Jeb said in a gruff voice, looking up at Johnny. "But what are you a-doin' up that tree when you're supposed to be doin' book work?"
"Aw," Johnny started, "I just...."
"You just made your paw boiling mad, that's what," Jeb interrupted, "locking the teacher in that way." He snorted.
"Did Dad say anything about keeping me away from the rocket landing?" Johnny demanded anxiously.
"Nup," answered Jeb. "Cap'n Thompson wanted him to, but he says no, that you worked real hard all year. But I'm warning you. You better get on inside that school house, unless you want a good tannin'. Your ma's out lookin' for you with fire in her eye." He started to walk away.
"Hey, wait a minute Jeb," Johnny called.
"Well?"
"I was watching those hunters. They're sure interested in the stockade. You better tell Cap'n Thompson."
"We know they're interested. I don't think they'll do anything. That old reprobate of a Trader Harkness'll keep 'em in line. You'd better watch out, though. I might tell Cap'n Thompson where he could find him a hooky-player." With a fierce snort the old man was on his way.