“A still tongue makes a wise head, Master Prentiss. It is not always well to tell everything you know.”
But he might just as well have allowed him to continue, for even as it was, Nat Brewster’s quick mind had grasped the situation. He had wondered from the beginning why he had not heard the voice of Royce; for that gentleman was scarcely one to be present and not be heard. But the heedless words of the youthful Tory brought the truth to him in a flash.
“Royce is not here,” reasoned Nat, to himself. “He has taken part of the band and crossed the river on the ferry. They have made up their minds that it is best to attack on the far side.”
The idea was startling; but he kept himself well in hand. Dimisdale had begun to speak again, and he listened eagerly.
“In times like these,” said Dimisdale, “one should consider everything one says. There is no telling what small matter inconsiderately dropped might lead to some larger circumstance entirely unforeseen.”
“You talk like a sage, Master Dimisdale,” laughed the stranger youth, lightly. “But there is a great deal of truth in what you say, and I’ll try to be guided by it.”
While he was speaking, Nat bent toward the Porcupine.
“Is there a ford anywhere at hand?” he whispered.
“Some distance above,” answered the dwarf in the same low tone.
“Do you think you can find it?”