Payne paused with a hand on the flywheel.

The dread in the captain's eyes was obviously genuine.

"Don't make us take you up there, mister," he repeated. "You wouldn't if you knew."

"Knew what?"

"We can't bring any one up there."

"You aren't bringing any one; you're being brought."

"It'll be hard luck for you, too, mister, if you run up there."

Higgins shouldered angrily forward.

"Keep that kind of pap talk behind your teeth. Trouble with you fellows is you've been used to handling suckers. You sort of get it that we're different, don't you?"

"I'm telling you," persisted the captain; "'twon't be any luck for you to run up there, and it'll be hell for us."

"Get up there and take that wheel!" roared Higgins. "Steer her right and true to the end of the strip and you won't get into any trouble. Try to ground her or any tricks, and you won't have to go 'up there' to catch hell."

"Hold on, Hig." Payne had sensed the desperation rising in the four men and he was averse to violence if it could be avoided. He was new in that country and he expected to settle there and develop his land. For a long time to come, until the contemplated railroad line came down from the north to his property, he knew the Chokohatchee River must be his means of communication with the outer world. The four men on the boat were natives of the section. He had not yet been able to fathom just what nature of men they were or what their business was, but he suspected the latter to be something illegal, and despite the poor showing they had made in the fight on the boat it was apparent that there was in them at least a tinge of the desperado. The swamps of Southern Florida, he knew, were favorite hiding places for scores of bad men. These men probably spent a good deal of time on the river which he must use, and therefore he had no wish to make them his deadly enemies.

"Don't take that wheel, cap!" said one of the men suddenly. "And keep your trap closed."

The scarred man turned and stared sullenly into the barrel of Higgins' revolver.

"Go ahead and shoot. That's the only way I'll go up there."

"Don't want to go alive, eh?"

"Ain't—allowed—to go—at all."

"Hold on, Hig," repeated Roger. "Don't be unreasonable."

"Unreasonable, hell! We're on our way, aren't we? Going to let 'em stop us?"

"We've got no quarrel with these men. We'll use a little reason."

"Go ahead, you're the boss." Higgins retired to the starboard rail, but he did not sheath Old Betsy.

"Can you tell me the reason you are afraid to go on?" asked Roger.

"Ain't afraid to go there. It's you that stops us."

"Why can't you take us there?"

"Got orders not to."

"From whom?"

A sullen silence followed the question.

"Anybody connected with the Land Company?"

"Save your wind," growled the scarred man. "We ain't telling."

Roger debated a moment and decided that he had indulged in enough irregularity and violence for one day.

"Now, talking as man to man, how much would it hurt you to take us up there?"

The captain's bleak face cracked in a slight smile of despair and hopelessness that left no need for words as an answer.

"Well, what is it?" blurted Higgins. "Can't you tell us what you're afraid of?"

"You look like a pretty stiff man, mister," said the scarred man after appraising Higgins, "but I'll bet if you was in our boots you wouldn't do different'n us."

"Can you beat it?" gasped Higgins. "They don't look like Sunday-school kids either."

Roger, running his eyes over the hard faces, smiled at the comparison.

"How far is it up to this terrible place from here, captain?"

"It's four miles from this point."

"By air line or river?"

"River."

"How's the walking?"

A look of relief in his hard eyes betrayed the hope that the question aroused in the captain.

"Fair—I won't say good, but fair. Right here she's swampy. A mile up the high banks start, and there's sort of a trail right into the place."

"All right. You'll run us up to the high banks. We'll get off and walk the rest of the way. You'll lay up at the banks for half an hour after we've started."

"What for?"

"I guess you're all right, but I play safe. I don't know anything about what you're afraid of up there, but I don't want you to get in ahead of us and accidentally break the news of our coming."

"Good!" cried Higgins admiringly. "And Old Betsy here, she'll throw a slug clean through that wheelhouse wall, captain, in case you should get impatient and try to run by."

The captain looked inquiringly at the scarred man, who nodded sullenly.

"All right."

"We'll be hitting back into the swamp," said the scarred one. "Come on, Pedro."

"No, you'll stay until we get to the high banks."

"What fer?"

"Davis did us a favor this morning, and I want to give him a chance for a fair start. If you would tell me his business——"

"Ain't telling anything."

"All right. Take the wheel, captain. We're off."

The Cormorant backed out of the thicket of mangrove branches which held her against the point, straightened out and started upstream.

"A little explanation and maybe we could be friends," suggested Payne.

"We're much obliged——" began the captain, and the scarred man interrupted with:

"But we ain't explainin'."

"Cheer up, boys!" laughed Higgins. "We're doing you a favor, you know."

"Know you are."

"So you might tip us off about why it's going to be hard luck for us to hit this place we're bound for."

There was no reply. The captain sullenly kept the boat's nose in the deep channel, but beyond this the gang was apparently no more responsive to words than the alligators which lay sunning themselves at the water's edge. The river now grew narrower, its waters grew clearer, changing from a yellow to a faint indigo.

"Getting into a limestone formation," called Higgins over his shoulder. "But I don't see anything that looks like land yet. This stuff ought to be sold by the gallon instead of the acre."

Soon, however, a change began to appear in the landscape. The mangroves gave way to banks of solid land. A few scattering pines, tall, straight, thin and branchless save for their crowns, reared their tops high above the tropical growths.

"There's land there," said Roger. "Where there are pines there's honest ground beneath, even if it's only sand. It's good to see them."

"You're right. I begin to feel at home again. That thick stuff is pretty, but give me some real trees."

The sand area, and with it the pines, gave way to a stretch of muck and saw grass, the saw grass to a jungle of elderberry trees so thick the light barely filtered in. Blackbirds by thousands, large and plump and glistening, swarmed about in the jungle; and on the thicker branches the loathsome buzzards sat waiting, waiting.

Payne carefully inspected the shore before leaving the boat when the landing was made at the high banks.

"Step ashore, Higgins, and see if there's a trail."

"Sort of a one-hog path, I guess. It looks all right."

"All right." Roger gathered their bags from the stinking hole forward and followed.

"Now," he said, turning to the men on the boat, "we don't want to leave you with any hard feelings. We'll pay for our ride. Will ten dollars be about right?"

He plucked two five-dollar bills off a roll and handed one each to the scarred man and the captain.

"Hey!" called the latter. "You won't say anything about being on this boat to anybody?"

"Not if it will be a favor not to. I'm not particularly proud of sneaking a ride."

"We won't say anything if you don't."

"I thought you wouldn't. Now you just lay up here for half an hour and don't try to pass us. Business is business and I'm playing safe. So long."

There was no reply. The crew on the boat watched silently as the pair marched out of sight.