Harris hesitated, colored a trifle, and began a busy pacing of the ground in front of the tent again.
“I reckon he sees that he’s made a mistake in claiming any knowledge of that fellow!” the boy mused with a quiet chuckle.
“What was it you asked?” inquired Harris, pausing in front of the tent. “Oh, I remember,” he went on, “you wanted to know if we knew this aviator who was killed in the race with you.”
“Why, yes,” Carl replied. “You seemed to know where he lived and who his friends were. I thought perhaps you might know all about him.”
“We know nothing whatever about him!” replied Harris, rather angrily. “He landed at our camp the day before the accident and visited with us a long time. He seemed to be a very pleasant and intelligent man. So far as his friends are concerned, we know nothing about them. When I remarked that we would forward the body, I did so under the supposition that papers in his possession would inform us as to his name and residence.”
“I see,” replied Carl with a knowing smile which the other was not slow in understanding. “How did you people come to know about the race?”
“Why, one of our men was up on the summit when the race began and saw the aeroplanes flying south. We know nothing further than that!”
“I’m sorry for what took place,” Carl said, “but the man was sailing over our camp in a suspicious manner, and we thought we’d find out what he wanted. As a matter of fact, he needn’t have run away when our machine took after him. There was no need of that.”
The fact was, as the reader well understands, that the dead aviator had not been circling the boys’ camp at all. The race, as Carl well knew, had started in the vicinity of the smugglers’ cave where the Louise had taken up the chase. The boy made the above statement half expecting that Harris would contradict him, and so show some further knowledge of the race and the man who had been killed.
Harris looked suspiciously at the boy for a moment, half-opening his lips to speak, but finally decided to remain silent.