ge.

On the deck Jed Harmon was crouching down, his gaunt face split in a
triumphant smirk. Beside him Joe Harmon stood quivering like a mound of
jelly, a stick of dynamite in his hand, his flabby face looking almost
gentle in the slanting sunlight.

There was a little square box at Jed Harmon's feet. As Joe pitched Jed
reached into the box for another dynamite stick. Jed was passing the
sticks along to his brother, depending on wad dynamite to silence Uncle
Al forever.

Wildly Jimmy told himself that the guns had been just a trick to mix
Uncle Al up, and keep him from shooting until they had him where they
wanted him.

Uncle Al was shooting now, his face as grim as death. His big heavy gun
was leaping about like mad, almost hurling him to the deck.

Jimmy saw the second dynamite stick spinning through the air, but he
never saw it come down. All he could see was the smoke and the
shantyboat rocking, and another terrible splintering crash as he went
plunging into the river from the end of a rising plank, a sob strangling
in his throat.

Jimmy struggled up from the river with the long leg-thrusts of a
terrified bullfrog, his head a throbbing ache. As he swam shoreward he
could see the cypresses on the opposite bank, dark against the sun, and
something that looked like the roof of a house with water washing over
it.

Then, with mud sucking at his heels, Jimmy was clinging to a slippery
bank and staring out across the river, shading his eyes against the
glare.

Jimmy thought, "I'm dreaming! I'll wake up and see Uncle Joe blowing on
a vinegar jug. I'll see Pigtail, too. Uncle Al will be sitting on the
deck, taking it easy!"

But Uncle Al wasn't sitting on the deck. There was no deck for Uncle Al
to sit upon. Just the top of the shantyboat, sinking lower and lower,
and Uncle Al swimming.

Uncle Al had his arm around Pigtail, and Jimmy could see Pigtail's white
face bobbing up and down as Uncle Al breasted the tide with his strong
right arm.

Closer to the bend was the Harmon shantyboat. The Harmons were using
their shotguns now, blasting fiercely away at Uncle Al and Pigtail.
Jimmy could see the smoke curling up from the leaping guns and the water
jumping up and down in little spurts all about Uncle Al.

There was an awful hollow agony in Jimmy's chest as he stared, a fear
that was partly a soundless screaming and partly a vision of Uncle Al
sinking down through the dark water and turning it red.

It was st