“He and Jones and Williams are cronies, you know,” continued Don, “and I believe that the surest way to find our man is to keep an eye on Lester.”
“I believe so myself,” said the captain, giving his companion a hearty slap on the back. “That’s a bright idea, Gordon, and we’ll act on it.”
“Mack thinks he’s smart, but he may find out that there are some boys in the world who are quite as smart as he is,” soliloquized Lester, as he moved on up the street. “I don’t know whether I want Enoch to command that schooner after all. His running the guard in daylight shows that he is inclined to take too many risks.”
Lester began to be alarmed now; the village seemed to be full of Captain Mack’s men. He met them at nearly every corner, and they, as in duty bound, asked to see his pass, and made inquiries concerning the deserter. Every one of them declared that there was something afoot.
“Williams didn’t run the guard in that daring way and come to town for nothing,” said they. “There’s no circus here, nor is there anything interesting going on that we can hear of; but there’s a scheme of some kind in the wind, and we know it.”
Lester’s fears increased every time Captain Mack’s men talked to him in this way, and he began looking about for Jones. He wanted to know what the latter thought about it; but he could not find him, nor could he see any of the band. They had all disappeared very suddenly and mysteriously, and now the only academy boys he met were those who wore bayonets. Eleven o’clock came at last, and Lester was on the point of starting for Cony Ryan’s, when he heard his name pronounced in low and guarded tones, and looked quickly around to see Jones standing in a dark doorway.
“Don’t come in here,” whispered the latter, as Lester stepped toward the door. “Stand in front of that window and pretend to be looking at the pictures, and then I’ll talk to you.”
Lester wonderingly obeyed, and Jones continued:
“We’re suspected already.”