“You never mentioned it to me,” said Ned, complainingly.
“I didn’t want to until I was sure. I thought there was no use getting up an excitement about a thing that might turn out to have nothing behind it.”
From somewhere around the high tiers of bales, a negro deck hand picked a tune out of a banjo; and the rhythmic shuffle and pit-pat-pit of feet told of another who danced to the music.
“All the way down the Ohio on the ‘Greene’ I noticed you were very quiet and watchful,” spoke young Chandler. “But to me it only meant that you were careful. I never thought of anything else.”
Walter Jordan looked at his friend, and there was a troubled look in his eyes.
“And Sam Davidge isn’t all we have to worry us,” said he, in a lower tone. “When we reached the Mississippi, and changed to this boat, I noticed something else.”
Ned caught the troubled look, and though he did not in the least suspect the cause of it, his own round face took on one just like it.
“What was it?” he asked.
“Have you seen a man on board whom they all call Colonel Huntley?”
Ned’s eyes went to the cabin door where he had noticed two persons a few moments before; the two were still there and intently examining them.