Nic told him, whispering earnestly in his excitement.
“What a vool—what a vool!” whispered Pete. “On’y to think o’ me never thinking o’ that. Then it’s all right, Master Nic. We can just get together enough prog to last us, borrow the guns, pick out the night that zuits us, and then go quietly off.”
“But would you dare to swim across the river—the alligators?”
“Yes,” said Pete; “if they was twice as big; and if they touch me—well, they’ll find out what an edge and point I’ve given my knife. It’s all right, Master Nic, and I’m glad it’s you as found out the way.”
“Hist!” whispered Nic, laying a hand on the man’s mouth.
For there was a rustling not far from where they lay; and Nic felt as if a hand were catching at his throat, for the thought came to thrill him through and through that Humpy Dee had crept nearer to hear what, in their eager excitement, they had said; and if he had heard—
Pete put it this way:
“If he knows, the game’s at an end.”
Nic slept little more that night; not that he and Pete talked again about their plans, but because his brain was full of the momentous question:
Had their treacherous companion heard?