“Yes, sir,” said Samson; “and we’ve left our rods by the lake. We’re going down again by-and-by to see if there is a bite.”
The officer nodded, laughed at them, and went on.
“You let your tongue run too freely,” said Fred, angrily.
“Well, sir, you wouldn’t speak; and it’s quite true. When shall we go down and see if we’ve got a bite?”
“This evening,” said Fred, shortly; and they went back to the camp to stay a few hours, and then get leave to go down again, making their way round the east end of the lake, up through the scattered woodland to the old patch of forest, and then in and out till they gained the broken-in entrance hidden by the dead blanches of the oak.
“It’s all right, sir,” said Samson, drily, as he caught sight of the opening at the same time as his master.
Yes: it was all right; for the bait Samson had placed there to test the presence of his brother was gone.
“Samson,” whispered Fred, “this is our secret. I want to be loyal to my party; but I feel as if I must help these poor fellows.”
“That’s very sad, sir,” replied Samson; “and I feel as if I ought to go and fetch a dozen of our men to search this place; but whatever you tell me to do, I shall do—that is to say, so long as you don’t ask me and Nat to make it up.”
“I will not ask you, Samson,” said Fred; “I’ll leave you to ask me if you may.”