“We are not far from the British camp?”
“What makes you think so?”
“You were not gone long enough from the encampment during the afternoon to have traveled very far and also caught that string of fish.”
“You are a good reasoner, Master Preston.”
“I believe we haven’t been very far from the camp at any time to-night,” the prisoner went on a moment or two later in tones of disgust. “I wonder I didn’t suspect you were leading me in a circle.”
“The circle was too large, and you were not familiar enough with the locality to see the change in our course,” Ira explained. “You can’t be blamed, I assure you. The way you have hidden the letters I know you carry, is proof you are nobody’s fool.”
The compliment evidently pleased the prisoner, for he laughed silently, and then remarked significantly:
“You haven’t found them yet, have you?”
Ira made no answer, and in a few minutes the prisoner was sleeping soundly notwithstanding his uncomfortable situation.
The little camp was astir early, for Dan Cushing arrived at dawn from Fort Edward. He looked the prisoner over, heard the story of his capture, and then turned to Late.