Rosalind almost lost her balance. She recovered herself with a desperate grab at a branch and made a choking noise in her throat. It shamed her to know that tears were in her eyes, but she could not force them back.
"About that spy business," he went on. "Did you believe that?"
"I see no reason to doubt it."
He mused over that for a while.
"It's hanging if it's true," he remarked presently.
"I hope so!"
"Hanging for me und Schmidt. I hate to think about it."
Rosalind could contemplate it with pleasure.
"Poor old Schmidt! Fat old Schmidt—who never did anything worse than buy and sell wheat on the Chicago Board of Trade! Think of hanging Schmidt as a spy!"
Rosalind paid little attention to the uttered thoughts of the boatman. She was trying to concentrate on her own case. Thus far conversation had been futile while the dog and the man remained inexorable.