A little later the two lads were alone pacing up and down the lawn discussing the features of Nat’s adventure. All the time—though he said nothing of it—one thought filled the mind of the boy from Wyoming, and that was as to Ben’s friend, Ezra Prentiss. In relating his experiences he had not mentioned this name, for he had not seen a way to bring it naturally about.
“I must not hurt Ben by letting him see that I am suspicious,” he thought. “The suspicions are foolish and absurd, of course. It could not have been the same person, for while I was talking to one Prentiss at the lower ferry, Ben was no doubt talking to the other at the City Tavern.”
“I tell you, it’s all very wonderful here,” said Ben, “and if I’d thought there was going to be any such work, I’d never have ridden to the city as I did.”
Nat laughed.
“I saw only three members of the Congress,” said he, “while at the City Tavern I suppose you saw a great many.”
But Ben grumbled.
“Oh, yes, I saw quite a few,” said he. “But I didn’t see Ezra.”
Nat darted a quick look at his friend.
“You didn’t see him?”
“No. They told me he’d been away all day. And though I waited for him until quite late in the night, he did not return.”