“Which means be careful,” Ree smiled, examining his rifle and slipping a pistol into his belt. “It is a mighty queer affair, and the meaning of it is what I want to find out.”
“Verily, I believe it means robbery,” spoke up Theodore Hatch, tenderly rubbing the scalpless crown of his head, as if that would help him to recollect his scattered thoughts. “The Indian tried to seize my saddle bags from under my head, before he jumped through the door. I had just wakened up, and scarcely knowing what I was doing, I let fly my fist at him and struck him quite a severe blow, I fear, just below the ear. I think—”
“Duff!” interrupted Return Kingdom, and into the one word he put so much force and expression that it spoke volumes.
“Honest truth, Ree, that was what I thought from the first, but I could not understand how he could disguise himself so well. He kept his face away from me, but I had one good look at him. The paint must have hid his smallpox marks.”
“I was about to say that I think—and hope, indeed, that he was not much hurt,” the Quaker went on, just a little impatient that he had been interrupted.
“It was that fellow Duff, beyond a doubt,” said Ree. “He expected to get your saddle bags, thinking he would find the half of the cut-in-two letter in them. Somehow or other his game was spoiled. Those cries of help were genuine—no shamming about them!”
“What in the world did that hooting like an owl mean then?” demanded John. “I think the game was that Dexter or that miserable Quilling or both of them were stationed outside to fire a gun and attract our attention. Duff believed that we would then run out to see what was wrong, and he, having got inside by playing the Indian, would then get that letter.”
“Well, you were right, old boy, in one thing, and that is that there is no reason why we should go out and hunt them up to-night. We will just stay quietly inside and one of us must keep an eye open for their coming back. My, how the wind howls! I really pity those poor chaps, that they are out in it.”
“Pity your grandmother!” ejaculated John.
“What a world of wickedness it is,” sighed Theodore Hatch, dolefully shaking his head and rubbing his hands.