"I'll—keep—him—in sight," muttered Hamilton in low, slow words.
"Hush, Eric!" I whispered. "If we harm him, he may mislead us. Let us watch him and track him!"
"He's asking leave to go trapping in the Sioux country. Can you go as trader for your people? To the buffalo hunt first, then, south? I'll watch here, if he stays; you, there, if he goes, and he shall tell us all he knows or—"
"Hush, man," I urged. "Listen!"
"Where," Governor McDonell was thundering at Laplante, "where are the parties that stole those despatches?"
The question brought both Hamilton and myself to the table. We went forward where we could see Laplante's face without being seen by his questioners.
"If I answer, Your Honor," began the Frenchman, taking the captain's bluster for what it was worth and holding out doggedly for his own rights, "I'll be given leave to trap with the Sioux?"
"Certainly, man. Speak out."
"The parties—that stole—those despatches," Laplante was answering slowly. At this stage he looked at his interlocutor as if to question the sincerity of the guarantee and he saw me standing screwing the spear-head on the tell-tale handle. I patted the spear-head, smiled blandly back, and with my eyes dared him to go on. He paused, bit his lip and flushed.
"No lies, no roguery, or I'll have you at the whipping-post," roared the governor. "Speak up. Where are the parties?"