“Is it the Frenchman?” demanded the old man.
“Yes, it’s a Frenchman, but,” and here the boys met with a disappointment. “It’s not the one that came the other time, but a fellow that looks like him.”
“Tough luck; that’s Baptiste, not Jean. Look King, I’ve changed my mind about having him captured. Let him go back and let the camp think that we are held prisoners safely here. That will allow us to work with greater freedom. Now we’ll duck under cover and you meet the halfbreed and bring Dick here.”
“Just as you say,” said the old man. “All you have to do around here from now on is to say the word, and everyone in Misery will do just as you order. I will, and I’ll see to it that the others toe the line.”
“Funny he don’t come,” muttered Garry.
“Oh, he won’t be here for a time yet,” said the chap who had brought the warning. “I was in a tree top, and could see way down to a clearing, and saw them there taking a rest. Ain’t nobody on the clearin’ here that can run as fast as I can, and I came quicker than ever to tell you about it.”
“Had we better let Baptiste see us so that he will know we are still here, Garry?” asked Phil.
“That’s a good suggestion. Suppose you station a guard with a rifle outside the door, King, and let Baptiste have a peek at us when he gets here,” directed Garry turning to the squatter.
“That’s what I’ll do. Here you, Job,” turning to the youth who had brought news of the coming of Baptiste and Dick. “You take your stand outside there like as if you were guardin’t the door. Now I’ll get out o’ here and meet them.”
The squatter king hastened out, while Job stood before the shack door with his rifle clutched in his hands. Garry and Phil, with some excitement, waited the coming of Dick.