pay you fur hittin' me with that there tater up there in the creek last summer?" chimed in Jake. "I guess yes."
These threatening words called Joe to his senses. He knew that he would not have time to pull up the anchor and escape in his canoe, for he had paid out a good deal of rope in order to place himself in the best possible position for casting, and before he could haul it in, his enemies would be upon him. There was but one way to elude them, and that was to take to the water and to trust to his powers as a swimmer. It looked like a slim chance, but the odds of three against one were too heavy to be successfully resisted, and what else could he do? As quick as a flash he turned again, and without releasing his hold upon me, took a header from the stern of the canoe.
"So that there's your game, is it?" yelled the squatter. "Wal, it suits us, I reckon. Never mind the boat, Jakey. She's fast anchored, and will stay there till we want her. Take after the 'ristocrat whose dad won't let honest folks live onto his land less'n they've got a pocketful of money to pay him fur it.
