"Well, go on and tell us what you think they may be," Ned pursued.
"I zink they pe a pad crowd," answered the guide. "Zis tells ze tale," and he held up some greasy cards which he must have gathered in the bushes behind the rocks near which the dead ashes lay.
Tamasjo also stooped and lifted something that glittered in the sunlight. When the scouts saw that it was a suspicious looking black bottle, they could guess as to what the nature of its recent contents had been. Nevertheless, it was passed around and every fellow had a chance to take a sniff at it.
"Deadly stuff, sure as you're born!" Jimmy pronounced, making a wry face.
"Whisky or old rye or something like that," Frank declared; and it spoke well for those five boys that no one was positively able to identify the odor, though well knowing its general character as an aid to drunkenness.
"That seems to settle it, so far as the tough kind of men they were," Ned continued; "and now we want to try and find out if they were looking for us to come down the river; and also, try and guess where they've gone to. They had boats, of course, Francois?"
The guide held up two fingers.
"Batteau, plenty room in same for all. Tamasjo and me, we tink zey haf gone down stream. Pig bay lie only half-day's journey zat way. Eef we go on, mebbe so we arrive zere by night. Better hold up, and make ze last part of ze trip in ze dark, so zat zey no see us."
"I understand what you mean, Francois," the patrol leader hastened to say; "and it sounds good to me, I admit. When we do go down to the salt water we will take advantage of your advice."
"What's that, Ned," broke in Jack; "you don't mean to say there's any doubt about our going down, sooner or later, do you?"