“Father went up the Gap after you had gone,” said Bigley, “and I saw him go right up to the place where we blew down the big rock, and when I saw him go there I went indoors and got his spy-glass and watched him out of the window.”
“I say, you oughtn’t to watch people,” I said sharply.
“I know that,” replied Bigley; “but I was afraid there was going to be a bother, and I wanted to tell you if there was.”
“Well, what did he do?”
“Why, if he didn’t seem to make it all out exactly just where we had been, and he followed down the place where the stone fell, and then went on down till he came to the rough part where the rock was all bared, and stooped and looked it all over and over. Oh, he has got eyes, my father has. I could see as plain as could be through the spy-glass that he picked up bits of the stone, and once he knelt down and I think he smelt the stones.”
“Smelt them!” I exclaimed.
“Yes, to find out about the gunpowder. He has found it all out, I’m sure.”
“So am I,” I said sadly, but without telling Bigley I meant something else.
“And then he went right down slowly just where the big rock slipped along, and down to the stream, and washed his hands and came home.”
“And did he speak to you about it?”