“I’ll show you, sir. I’m just going to hang that inside yonder hole; and if my brother Nat’s there he’ll smell it half a mile away, and come and take it. I know him like a lesson. We’ll leave it there, go away, and come back again; and if the cake’s gone we know they are there.”
“We shall know some one is there,” Fred said thoughtfully. “Yes, we shall know that Scar is there,” he added with more show of animation, “for no one but us two know of the existence of that hole. He must have come out and found your brother.”
“Shall I bait the trap, then, sir?” said Samson.
“Yes, of course.”
“Ah,” said Samson, placing the cake in a fork of one of the dead branches right in the hole, “you often laugh at me, sir, for bringing a bit o’ food with me, but now you see the good of it. There!”
He drew back to look admiringly at his work.
“That’ll catch him, sir,” he said.
“Yes, they’ll see that,” cried Fred, eagerly. “Now let’s get back to the lake, and fish for an hour.”
“But we aren’t got no lines, sir.”
“Never mind; we must pretend, in case we are watched. Come along quickly.”