“Well, I am not,” said Nat.
And even while he spoke the words he knew that he did not mean them—he knew that he was equally sure. But there was a something—an instinct, perhaps—that made him fight the feeling back.
“It looks bad,” said he continuing, “in fact, I am willing to admit that it looks as though you were right. But let us wait. It can do no harm, and it may do good.”
At this moment, Samuel Adams came out of the inn accompanied by Ezra, to whom he was speaking in low, confidential tones. As they went on down the street, side by side, the Porcupine puckered his eyelids and gazed after them keenly.
“You say that waiting can do no harm,” said he, “but I’m not so sure about that. I know who that is,” nodding toward Mr. Adams. “He was pointed out to me the other day. And,” looking at Nat steadily, “such men, when they are engaged in such work as is going on at Carpenter’s Hall, have many things of importance to say that they would not say to every one; but they’d be likely to speak to some one who is in their confidence. Don’t you think so?”
A troubled look came into Nat’s face.
“I’ve thought of that,” said he. “And it’s a real danger. But we’ll have to risk it—at least for a little longer.”
That afternoon as Nat and Ben took the road once more for Germantown—Nat with the Porcupine perched before him in the saddle—Ben said:
“I hardly think we’ll have Ezra with us much longer.”
Nat looked inquiringly at his cousin; the dwarf twisted his big head about and waited for what was coming.