It was in New Orleans that she had called to see Bob Steele and had told him many things which were not true. Because of this misinformation, Bob Steele had been lured into the hands of Captain Jim Sixty, the filibuster. The girl who had been instrumental in carrying out this plot was Ysabel Sixty, Captain Sixty’s daughter.
The boys were amazed to see her there in that rebel-haunted wilderness, but they repressed their excitement and curiosity until the girl had led them unerringly to a little cleared space in the heart of the woods.
Here there was a rude shelter constructed of a ragged tarpaulin, and an olla, or earthen water jar, suspended from the branches of a tree.
The girl turned and faced the boys as soon as they reached this primitive camp.
“You are safe, for the present,” said she. “I am glad I could do something to help you.”
“Well, what next?” growled Dick, his keen eyes on the girl’s face. “Are you helping us, Ysabel Sixty, or luring us into another trap, as you did up in New Orleans?”
A look of sadness and contrition swept over the girl’s face. It was a pretty face—not so pretty as it had been in New Orleans, for now it was worn and haggard—and that ripple of sorrow touched it softly.
“I have paid for all that,” said the girl slowly. “I have paid for it with more bitter regrets than I can tell. Now, maybe, I can help to undo the wrong. What I did in New Orleans I did not do willingly. My father threatened to kill me if I failed to carry out his wishes. Now he is in the hands of the law, you are free, and I am adrift in this wild country.”
There was something in the girl’s voice that touched both Bob and Dick. It could not be that she was again playing a part, for there was that in her words and manner which told of sincerity.