“Sh! don’t make any noise,” he whispered, “it’s Haight; get up and come out on the porch, but be quiet about it; I want to have a talk with you.”
A muttered assent was given, and Haight tip-toed softly out to the porch, and sat down.
Lyle crept up-stairs again to Miss Gladden.
“Don’t be frightened,” she said, “but I believe Haight must have seen or heard something;” and she hastily told what she had overheard.
“Now,” said she in conclusion, “the window on the porch is open, and as soon as they are both outside, I will go there and listen. Even if I cannot hear all that is said I will probably catch enough to learn what is going on. You wait for me and keep perfectly quiet.”
A few moments later, Maverick shuffled out on the porch and sat down beside Haight with a growl.
“Damned pretty time, I sh’d think, to talk! What in hell do you want?”
“Well, you were long enough getting out here,” said Haight, in his smoothest tones, all unaware of a figure that had glided to the open window behind him, and now knelt within six feet of him. “Now quit your growling, for you and I are good friends, Jim, and I want your advice. Jim,” he continued in a lower tone, “what would you think two fellows like Houston and Van Dorn would want with that old chap, Jack?”
“Huh?” said Maverick, rather stupidly, “what are ye drivin’ at?”
“Wake up! you’re half asleep, Jim! Your two dandy boarders here only just came home about twenty minutes ago; they’ve been for the last three or four hours down there in Jack’s cabin, with the windows all shut tight and curtains down, and still as death. What do you suppose that means?”