For several minutes no one spoke. Tom stood staring at Luke Redman in a sort of stupid bewilderment, as if he found it impossible to grasp the full import of the words he had just heard, and the man leaned on the muzzle of Sandy Todd’s shot-gun, which he had appropriated for his own use, and stared at him in return.
“You don’t quite see through it, do you?” said the latter, at length.
“No, I don’t,” Tom almost gasped. “I can’t understand what object you have in view in keeping me here, for I shall never reveal any of your secrets.”
“Oh, I ain’t at all afraid of that,” laughed Luke Redman, “’cause, if you should tell any of my secrets, I might tell some o’ yourn, which would be bad for you. Listen, an’ I’ll tell you all about it. The money in that carpet-sack belongs to your uncle. He don’t need it, ’cause he’s got more than he knows what to do with; but I do need it, an’, what’s more, I’m bound to have it. You don’t see that young Injun Jim anywhar, do you? Wal, jest afore we left the camp whar my boys rescooed me, he went to the settlement with a note which Barney writ to your uncle. That note told him that if he don’t quit makin’ so much fuss about the loss of his money, an’ give me a chance to get across the river with it, he’ll never see you ag’in. I know he thinks a heap on you, an’ sooner than lose you, he’ll call in the settlers, an’ give up huntin’ fur me. Ain’t that one way to slip outen the hands of the law?”
“It will never work,” said I, indignantly. “My father is one of the settlers, and he’ll not allow you to escape, even if General Mason does desire it.”
“Hold on a bit!” interrupted Luke Redman. “I ain’t done talkin’ yet. Your father will be one of the very fust to give up lookin’ fur me, ’cause I sent him a note, too, sayin’ that if he wanted to see you ag’in, he had best go home an’ mind his own business fur one week. If he does that, I’ll send you back to him safe an’ sound. If he don’t, I’ll sink you so deep in the bayou that none of your fellers will ever find you ag’in. Do you know now why I’m so sot on keepin’ you a prisoner?”
I certainly did, for Luke Redman’s scheme was perfectly clear to me. He knew he could not show himself outside the swamp as long as the authorities and settlers were on the watch, and he had detained Tom and me, hoping through us to work on the fears of our friends and relatives.
If they would let him alone for one week—or, to put it in plain English, if they would draw in the patrols who were guarding the river, and allow him to cross into Louisiana with the eight thousand dollars—he would return Tom and me to our homes, right side up with care; but if they persisted in searching for him, he would put us where no one would ever see us again.
I had never heard of so desperate a scheme before, and to say that I was amazed would but feebly express my feelings.
While I was thinking it over, and wondering if it would succeed, Tom recovered from his bewilderment, and showed that he could be plucky and determined, as well as mean and cunning.