CHAPTER XIII
IN THE CYPRESS COUNTRY
During the morning they talked often of the occurrence of the previous night. Phil no longer felt any qualms of conscience, on account of what he had done. And he really hoped Pete would get clear of the posse. There had been something in the face of the negro that impressed both boys with a sense of his honesty. He had been sent to the convict camp simply because he was unlucky enough to be in a fight. Had he been a common thief it might have looked different to Phil.
And while Tony McGee might not be able to grasp all the fine points in the matter, he could understand that these two new friends of his had warm, boyish hearts; and he often looked at them with growing affection when neither Phil nor Larry believed he was at all concerned about their affairs.
Then that old troubled expression would flit back again, to hold dominion over Tony's face. That was when he tried to imagine what his father's actions might be, after he learned that one of these lads was really the son of Dr. Lancing, the rich land owner, against whom he had so strong a grudge that he would have been sorely tempted to kill him, did the millionaire but venture into the land of the squatter shingle-makers.
They tied up again at noon, taking Tony's advice. Phil could plainly see that the swamp boy, acting as pilot of the little expedition, was trying to time their progress so as to hit a certain place toward nightfall.
"What d'ye think of it?" asked Larry, when Tony having wandered off with the gun to see if he could find some "partridges," the two could exchange words without being overheard.
"About Tony, do you mean?" queried his companion, easily guessing what was worrying Larry.
"Yes. He asked us not to leave here until about the middle of the afternoon; and then he sprung that idea on us, of stepping out to see if he could scare up any game. You don't imagine for a minute, do you, Phil, that he means to betray us to his friends, and get us into trouble?"