“News of my friends?” asked Case quickly, forgetting in the impulse of the moment that the boy’s information was more than likely to be misleading. “Have you seen any of the boys to-day?”
“No,” was the slow reply, “but I have heard from them. They crossed the peninsula early this morning, were lured into a boat passing down a parallel stream, and must now be somewhere on or near the St. Lawrence.”
“How do you know all this?” demanded Case half-angrily.
“Ever since the night I cut your cable,” Max began, “I have been more than ashamed of myself. I was ordered to do the work, and believed that there was nothing else for me to do except to obey. I was not far from St. Luce yesterday when you boys went aboard the Sybil. The steamer touched at St. Luce and I afterwards heard the captain telling a friend of meeting you. Then I decided to return to you, if you were still in this vicinity.”
“And so you come here and tell me a fairy tale about my chums?” Case exclaimed. “You don’t expect me to believe a word you say, do you?”
“And yet it is the truth,” Max insisted. “I was up this morning early, paddling across the St. Lawrence, for I knew from the Captain’s conversation that you were over here. Not long ago I came upon a boat leaving the river to the west. From the man who was rowing, I learned that your friends had been attacked and captured.”
Case still doubted. He did not like the look in the eyes of the boy. He remembered the treacherous act which had sent the disabled Rambler drifting down the St. Lawrence. He thought fast for a moment and then asked abruptly:
“Will you tell me what your interest is in this matter?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Why did you cut our cable?”