“You’ll know soon enough,” was the retort, as the former teacher moved toward another room.
“Well, I’m in on this too. Don’t forget that!” exclaimed Murker, and there seemed to be menace in his tones.
“Oh, don’t bother me!” answered Skeel, apparently a bit irritated.
Evidently the feeling among the conspirators was not as friendly as it might have been. It was very like a dissention, and Tom wondered if the truth of the old adage was to be proved, “When thieves fall out, honest men get their dues.”
“I hope it proves so in my case,” Tom reflected. “But first I would like something to eat. And I wish the others had some, too. I wonder where they are now, and what they think of me?” Professor Skeel went into another room, and closed the door after him. Murker also went into another apartment—there seemed to be three rooms, at least, on the first floor of the cabin—and presently the evil-faced man came back with a platter on which were some chunks of cold meat and bread. It looked better to Tom, half famished as he was, than a banquet would have seemed—even a surreptitious midnight school-feed.
“Help yourself,” growled Murker, as he set the platter down in front of Tom, on a rough table, and loosed the bonds of our hero’s arms.
“Guess I’ll have a bit myself,” murmured Whalen.
“Go on,” mumbled Murker, his mouth half full. “The boss will eat later, I reckon.”
Tom reflected that by the “boss” they must mean Skeel.
As for the young hunter, he eagerly took some of the bread and meat. It was cold, but it was good and nourishing, and seemed to have been well cooked. It put new life into Tom at once. He would have liked a cup of coffee, but there seemed to be none. Perhaps the men would make some later. Tom certainly hoped that they would do so.