“Well, you sure got me twisted up, and kinked tuh beat the band, kid,” he said. “I got a pal, jest as you sez, an’ his handle is George. But jest where he might be at this minit is more’n I c’n say.”
“But he’s on the island, isn’t he?” demanded Step Hen.
“He shore is, ’less he’s took a crazy notion to try an’ swim over tuh the shore, which wouldn’t be like cautious George a bit.”
“He was here with you, how long ago?” asked Allan; “you must have cooked breakfast this morning with that fire, and he sat right here, where I can see the mark of his broken shoe. Where did he go, and when?”
“That’s what we want to know!” added Giraffe sternly.
The tramp saw that he was cornered. One by one his defenses had been beaten down. These energetic boys would not stand for any further holding back on his part; and unless he wished to invite rough treatment it was now up to him to tell all he knew.
“Well, George was sittin’ there, as you sez, younker, an’ he takes a sudden notion that he wants tuh find out what the rest o’ the folks of this island ’spected to do so’s tuh get away. That bein’ the case, he sez to me, sez he: ‘I reckons I’ll stroll up a ways, and take a look around. If there’s anything doin’ in the boat line we might want tuh cop it, and clear out.’ And so he goes off, an’ I ain’t seen the first sign o’ George since then.”
“How long ago might that have been?” asked Thad.
“I been asleep nearly all the time since, so how could I tell?” came the reply.
“By looking at the sun,” the patrol leader told him; “you know how high it was when George went away. And hoboes never have any need of a watch.”