“Which way are you traveling?” he asked.
“North,” returned George.
The face of the other grew brighter. He endeavored to assume a light manner, and laughed a little as he said:
“Perhaps you think that there will be more to interest you in that direction than in another.”
“One usually travels in the direction in which one’s interest lies,” replied young Prentiss in the same tone. “And I am like most in that.”
Herbert Camp nodded and pondered. For a few moments he stood alternately glancing at George and then toward the window; the lash of the whip continued to cut at his boot leg and to lay long welts upon the sanded floor.
“You came alone?” asked he, finally.
“Yes,” answered George.
“Isn’t it somewhat dangerous to take the north road unaccompanied?”
Young Prentiss smiled. “You did not seem to think so,” said he.