“Yes, if you can get it,” replied Rob with meaning emphasis, wondering much what could be coming next.
“Your liberty depends on my getting it,” resumed Hunt.
“My liberty?” echoed the boy, “how is that?”
“I want you to write a note to Major Dangerfield. He thinks a good deal of you, doesn’t he?”
“I hope so,” responded Rob, mightily curious to know what Hunt was driving at.
“He’s responsible, too, in a way, for your safety, isn’t he? I mean your parents rely on him to bring you back safe and sound?”
“I suppose so. But why don’t you come to the point. Tell me what it is you want.”
“Just this: You write to the major. I’ll see that the note is delivered. You must tell him to give my messenger the plan and map of the treasure’s hiding place. If he does so you will be returned safe and sound. So will the nigger and the canoes. We didn’t want that nigger anyhow. In the darkness we mistook him for the major.”
Rob could hardly repress a smile at the idea of the dignified major being confused with the ubiquitous Jumbo.
“Are you willing to write such a letter?”