A moment later he recognized the individual as Andy Mosey.
"Wonder what he is doing out here," said Mont to himself. "Perhaps the prison keeper was right, and Jack is on his track--may be watching his chance to get evidence to convict him." When the discovery took place Mont was at a spot where the road ran close to the bank, and here he waited for the Irishman to come up.
As Mosey approached, it was easy to see that he had been drinking heavily. In truth it was but the continuance of his potations of the previous day.
"He had better take care, or he'll go over the bank, sure," was the young man's mental observation, as he watched the reeling form.
As Mosey drew nearer Mont noticed that his eyes were deeply sunken, and that despite the drink, his face looked pale and haggard.
"Possibly he is worried over his wrongdoings," thought Mont, hitting more truth than he imagined. "It's a pity such a strong fellow can't keep from liquor."
The Irishman shuffled directly toward Mont, without apparently noticing him.
"Hello," exclaimed the young man, sharply. "Where bound?"
The Irishman started up in surprise.
"Where you--hic--goin'?" he asked.