The day after Azito's return the camp suffered from one of the periodical disasters which it was impossible to foresee or to guard against. A violent tornado swept over the district, uprooting immense trees, whirling the tents away, and scattering their contents in all directions. It was all over in a few minutes, but the mischief done would take days to repair. Will was walking over the ground, seeking to recover his possessions among the litter, when he happened to find a sheet of the Company's official paper on which he saw that a rough plan was drawn. He picked it up, thinking it might be one of the Chief's papers; but on further examination he was surprised to find that it was a sketch of the encampment, or rather of that part of it occupied by the engineering staff. The position of each tent was marked, and distinguished by a letter of the alphabet. Will thought the paper must belong to O'Connor, and took it to him. At the moment O'Connor had his arms full of pyjamas and underwear which he had just collected from the havoc of the storm. His inseparable pipe was in his mouth.
"Is this yours?" asked Will, showing him the paper.
"Never saw it before," mumbled O'Connor. "What is it?"
"A plan of part of the camp."
"What would I want with a plan of the camp? Perhaps the Chief has been amusing himself. Try him."
But the Chief denied all knowledge of the paper.
"I've got something better to do than draw unnecessary plans. What's the good of it?"
"Nothing, except as information to an enemy."
"Ah! that's an idea now. 'A chiel amang us takin' notes,' eh? A wolf within the fold. I'll skin him if I catch him. Do you suspect any one?"
"Sangrado's got a shifty eye."