Making his way through the brushwood, Nat Poole presently came out on the forest road, and then lost no time in hurrying back to camp. He was in anything but a good humor, and his face showed it.
“Well, Nat, why the thunder-cloud look?” queried Lieutenant Gebauer, when he saw his crony.
“Oh, I had another run-in with that Dave Porter,” growled the money lender’s son. “Say, that fellow makes me tired all over!”
“I don’t think he makes you any more tired than he does me,” said the lieutenant, bringing out his ever-present cigarette-case and lighting up.
“I thought you were going to think out something by which we could get square with him?” continued Nat. “I know what I’d like to do!”
“What?”
“I’d like to disgrace him! And say, Max, if we could get him disgraced maybe Jessie Wadsworth wouldn’t have anything more to do with him, and that would give you a chance.”
To this the lieutenant did not reply at once. He blew a ring of smoke into the air, took another puff, and threw the cigarette on the ground.
“I might as well tell you,” he said finally. “I’ve been watching Porter every opportunity I get. Sooner or later our chance will come. When it does, I want you to be ready to act with me.”
“I told you before that I would do that.”