“I have no such intention,” replied Julian, who, knowing that he was powerless, submitted to his captors, who bound his arms firmly behind his back. “But I can tell you one thing, Jack—you and Richard Mortimer. You are not going to take me down the river and put me into an asylum.”
Mr. Mortimer was profoundly astonished at these words. He looked sharply at the prisoner for a moment and exclaimed: “Has Sanders been here?”
“Sanders?” repeated Julian.
“Yes; a short, thick-set man, dressed in black, and wearing an abundance of jewelry.”
“I have no acquaintance with any such person.”
“But you do not say that you have not seen him. You have talked with him—I am certain of it—or you would not know that my name is Richard. Sanders knows why I am here, and I know why he is here and who sent him. We are both playing the same game, and we shall see who will win. He shall never take passage on that flatboat.”
As soon as Julian had been securely bound, Jack set himself to work to overhaul his pockets, searching—not for concealed weapons, but for the money belonging to the prisoner. A very short investigation, however, served to satisfy him that the coveted treasure was not hidden about Julian’s person, and with an expression of almost ungovernable fury on his face he left him and began to search the camp. He picked up the prisoner’s blankets, shook them thoroughly, threw aside the leaves which the boy had scraped together to serve as a mattress, and looked into every hollow stump and under every log on the bluff; but nothing in the shape of a box or pocket-book could he find.
“Whar is it?” he roared, unable to contain himself longer.
“Where’s what?” asked Julian.