“Well, I always felt that I couldn’t trust him a bit.”
“Prejudice, boy—prejudice.”
“I dare say it was, uncle; and when I found how he showed us everything we wanted I tried to believe in him; but my head felt as if it wouldn’t go.”
“He hadn’t got a boat; he hadn’t got a boat,” said the doctor, as if to himself.
“No, uncle; but suppose he had got a canoe?”
“That’s it,” cried Morny excitedly. “You are right, Rodd. You think those were his two men?”
“Yes,” said Rodd. “Two black fellows out of his schooner.”
“And—and—” panted Morny, as the doctor’s jaw fell and he stood staring at the two lads, utterly speechless—“you believe that he has led us right out here in this wild maze of a place to lose us, while he goes back to—to—”
The poor fellow broke down, and Rodd caught him by the hand; but Morny in the passion of his emotion snatched his away.
“Don’t—don’t say it!” he cried.—“While he has gone back for who knows what? Oh, father, father, why did I come away?”