“You wouldn’t like ’em if they chased you fer shootin’ when the game laws was on.”
“I think of that. You come into woods along of me, now, eh? I show you what do and how make large lot money. Big! And maybe how shoot policemans to keep away. Big money you get.”
“Lead me to it!” said Gus, his swift guess at what might be coming making him shove in a less backwoodsy phrase.
Without another word the man started along a tortuous and narrow path and Gus followed for more than half a mile. They were just off the thoroughfare when they started, but the youth could hear the distant booming of the ocean waves on the beach before they stopped.
To the right, with a roof seen above the low underbrush of young pines, holly and sweet gum, was a building of some kind toward which the path turned abruptly. A hundred yards ahead the woods ceased, and Gus knew that beyond were the ever-shifting sand dunes crowned with their short-lived scrub oaks or pines and tufts of beach grass which bordered a wild and lonely shore for many miles. Twelve miles to the south was a somewhat popular seaside resort.
Gus had not crossed the woods at this spot, though he had at some other very similar places. He had been all along the beach and had boated on the thoroughfare clear to the inlet. This was nowhere deep enough for even a large sloop. But he was thinking less of this than of a very possible opportunity that seemed to loom ahead.
“What your name?” asked the Italian.
“Sam is my name,” said Gus.
“Now then, Sam, you stay here. If some man who no business has here come to look, you give order to go—see? You say this your father’s ground and no—what you call?—trespass. All this day you stay. To-morrow you come, also. Two dollar you get each day, eh?”
“Thought it was big money. Mebbe I’ll have t’ shoot somebody an’ I will, quick. But——”