Then his mood seemed to change like magic, for he laughed hoarsely, and looked around at the rough spirits by whom they were hemmed in.
"Wot yuh think o' thet, men, this hyah leetle critter is the son o' ole Doc. Lancing, ther man we's gwine tuh tar an' feather jest as soon as he dars show his hide down thisaways. He jest kim hyah as trustin' as a dove, thinkin' weuns'd never dar lift a hand ag'in 'im, case the sojers they'd foller arter him. Wot we'll jest do tuh this kid ain't wuth mentionin', air hit, men?"
Then arose loud and tumultuous shouts, that made poor Larry crumple up as if he wanted to hide in a thimble. He looked around at the dark and angry faces to the right and to the left; and again wished he had thought twice before embarking on this wild scheme of Phil's.
"Shut up!" roared McGee; and the tumult was hushed as if by magic.
The leader looked about him, his strong face working with mingled passion and pleasure. Phil was somehow reminded of a story, heard in the long ago, a parable about the lord of the vineyard, who sent his son to treat with those in possession; and what those unruly spirits did to the young man was so vividly impressed on his mind right now, that it gave him a very uncomfortable feeling. History might repeat itself. And he was the son of the rich man who owned the property!
"Listen tuh me, men," called out McGee, when every eye was glued on his face. "We'll take these critters back tuh hum with us. Ben, let Marty hev yuh gun. I 'p'int him tuh stay by the boat, and guard thuh same. An' remember, all o' yuh, if so much as a single thing is stolen, yuh'll give an account tuh McGee! understan'?"
Evidently they did, for a number of faces assumed a look of disappointment, as though hopes had been entertained that they were to loot the motor boat, just as though they were pirates of the Spanish Main.
"Git ashore, you!" said the giant, as he motioned with his hand after the manner of one who was accustomed to being obeyed.
Phil did not even attempt to pick up his gun. He knew that weapon would be of no use to him in his present trouble. Something far stronger than a repeating shotgun was needed to extricate him from the difficulty into which his venturesome spirit had carried him.
Still, he was far from being discouraged. He had not yet shot his bolt. When this leader of the shingle-makers learned about the magnificent offer which his father had made, surely he could never hold the same feelings of bitter resentment and hatred toward the new owner of all those miles of cypress swamps, with their millions upon millions of feet of valuable timber waiting to be marketed.