Out of the murky blank came one who had gone a-scouting. He touched his cap to the girl and reported to her and to all who were in hearing.
“The Three C’s chief pirate has got along. Craig is down at the dam. I was able to crawl up mighty close in the fog. I heard him. He’s ugly!”
“I reckoned he would be a mite peevish as soon as the news of the social happenings along the river for the past few days got to him,” said Vittum. “It’s no surprise to me—been expecting him!”
“He’s got a special edge on his temper—has been all bunged up by an auto accident, so I heard him giving out to the men he was talking to.”
“And what’s he saying of particular interest to us?”
“Says he’s going to stick right at Skulltree and kill us off singly and in bunches, just as we happen to come along.”
“News is news, and it’s good or bad according to the way you look at it,” declared the old man. “Does that fresh news scare anybody?”
There was a vigorous chorus of denial; when one man averred that the statement only made the fight more worth while he was indorsed with great heartiness.
“All right!” agreed Vittum. “We’ll consider that point settled.” He drew a long breath; he inquired with anxious solicitude; “Did you overhear him saying anything about Latisan? He might have heard something, coming in fresh from outside.”
The scout gave the girl a glance of apology; he was a tactless individual in shading facts. “Of course, all that Three C’s bunch is liars, and Craig worst of all. But I did hear him say that Latisan is loafing in New York and is prob’ly in jail by this time.”