s had been allowed a chance to secure
some sleep, having been placed in an empty shanty; but as neither of
them dared lie down on the straw that formed a rude couch on the board
floor, they were compelled to "snatch a few winks," as Larry termed it,
sitting up.
In the morning they had been fed, after a fashion. Larry bemoaned the
fact that while he had to partake of the unsavory mess or go hungry,
all that fine "grub" was going to waste on the Aurora, not more than a
mile away.
Phil did not show the anxiety he felt. Since coming into personal
contact with the terrible McGee he had lost some of the enthusiasm and
confidence that had up to then marked his actions. The leader of the
squatter clan was so much more formidable than he had anticipated, that
Phil himself began to fear his mission was doomed to be a failure.
It was a serious outlook they faced, particularly Phil. They might
allow Larry to get off scot free, since he was not a Lancing, and
looked so innocent of any wrong intent; but with Phil the matter was
different.
What if the stubborn giant utterly refused to believe the good
intentions of the new owner of the cypress swamp lands? What if he
felt convinced that it was all a sly trick; and that the millionaire
had sent his son down simply to take notes, in order that presently the
sheriff, backed by the State troops, could enforce the edict of
eviction?
Phil always put that idea away from his mind when it tried to force
itself upon him. And yet from every hand he had heard that McGee was a
most determined man, who, having conceived a thing, could not be
changed. Even his own wife and son had said that about him.
And so, still hoping for the best, Phil now turned toward his troubled
chum, with a forced smile on his face.
"Nothing much, I guess, Larry; only wait for a chance to talk again
with McGee," he replied, cheerily.
"But the morning is passing, and he doesn't seem to want to see you at
all," complained the other.
"But sooner or later he will, you mark me," answered the positive one,
wishing to ease the strain he knew was on Larry's poor mind.
"But you told his wife what sort of message you carried," Larry went
on, his voice dejected enough to imagine him at a funeral; "and sure
she must have managed to let him know, because she promised to do all
she could."
"That's what I'm banking on," Phil continued. "She must have more or
less influence with McGee. He is proud of her
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