“You don’t answer. What’s the matter? Has anything happened? Where are the boys?”
Again the unfortunate Corbet was unable to answer.
“It’s a plain question enough,” said Ferguson, “and you’ve got to answer it somehow—for I’m going down Nova Scotia way, and may see some of their parents. So, own up, old man. What have you done with the boys?”
At this moment a happy thought occurred to the bewildered Corbet. It came like a ray of light in deep darkness.
“Wal,” said he, “you see, capting—you know—them thar youngsters, you know—they—they’ve—got up a kine o’ secret society—you know—they told you—themselves—you know—and they’re all together—you know—and it’s a matter—of importance—to them—and to me—to—to—to—to keep the secret, you know. O, I do assure you it’s all right—they’re all safe an sound—an enjyin life; good quarters, plenty to eat an drink, an ole Solomon a doin of the cookin—but it’s a great secret, you know—and so—you see—capting—the fact is—I’d a leetle rayther not let on where they air jest now.”
Captain Corbet spoke this in a confused way, and in a mild, deprecatory manner. Ferguson listened attentively to his words, and then stood looking at him for some time with an air of dissatisfaction.
“Well—old man,” said he, “I do remember some nonsense of theirs about a secret society; but you haven’t answered my question; you evade it; and what their secret society has to do with their present situation I don’t quite begin to make out. The fact is, I don’t consider you a fit guardian for such boys as they are, and my opinion all along has been that they’ll all get into mischief. I’m afraid that they’re in some fix at this particular moment, and that you have left them at the very time that you ought to be standin by them. If you don’t choose to tell me, I can’t make you—only I warn you, if the boys air in a fix it’s best to let me know, for I can go and help them sooner and better than you can.”
“O, but railly, now—now—railly, capting,” said Corbet, with great earnestness, “I do assure you, honest and honor bright, there ain’t no difficulty about the boys. They’re all rail happy—tip-top, an no mistake; as lively as crickets; lots to eat an drink, comfortable beds, good cookery—all in good spirits and a enjyin of themselves in a way that would do your heart good to see.”
“Well—but where are they?” persisted Ferguson.
“Wal—now—railly—you know,” said Captain Corbet, “it’s a kine o’ secret—an I’d very much rather not tell—that is—not jest now; now railly—don’t ask me.”