“There ought to be a boat somewhere about here,” said Walter, while his companions looked wonderingly at one another, “because Pierre and Coulte brought him over here in a pirogue.”
It now seemed Mr. Bell’s turn to be astonished. He looked hard at Walter, as if trying to make up his mind whether or not he was really in earnest, and then a sneering smile settled on his face; and stretching himself out on his blanket again he pulled his hat over his eyes, remarking as he did so:
“All I have to say is, that Chase was a blockhead to let them do it.”
“Now just listen to me a minute, Mr. Bell, and I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” said Perk, earnestly. “He couldn’t help it, for he was tied hard and fast.”
The gentleman lifted his hat from his eyes, gazed at Perk a moment, smiled again, and said: “Humph!”
“I know it is so,” insisted Perk, “because I saw him and had hold of him. I had hold of Coulte too; and if I get my hands on him again to-night, he won’t escape so easily.”
“What object could the old Frenchman and his son have had in tying Chase hand and foot, and taking him to sea in a dugout?”
“Their object was to get him out of the way,” said Walter. “Chase knows that Coulte’s two sons belong to a gang of smugglers, and they wanted to put him where he would have no opportunity to communicate his discovery to anybody.”
“Smugglers!” repeated the gentleman, in a tone of voice that was exceedingly aggravating. “Smugglers about Bellville? Humph.”
“Yes sir, smugglers,” answered Wilson, with a good deal of spirit. “And we have evidence that you will perhaps put some faith in—the word of your own son.”