The boy had been on his feet all the previous night, wandering about the jungle, and had taken only a short rest at the Chester camp. The prisoner was so secured that it did not seem possible for him to get away, even if left there alone, so the lad rolled a dilapidated old easy chair up to the window and lay back at his ease.
For a long time neither spoke, and then the prisoner asked:
“When will I be taken to prison?”
“Search me!” Jimmie replied.
“I take it,” the captive continued, “that the whole plot is discovered?”
“Bet your life!” Jimmie answered, drowsily.
“Then the United States government will have to put up a couple of extra prisons,” was the comment of the prisoner.
“What you doin’ it for?” demanded the boy.
The prisoner did not see fit to reply to this leading question, and Jimmie put another, equally pertinent:
“Who let you into the Shaw house that night?”