Tom put on a woeful expression and Wallion grinned.
"I've got a little something to begin with," he said, producing two long loaves, a tin of salmon, a piece of smoked sausage and two bottles of beer.
Tom must be excused for not doing more than casting a look of thanksgiving up to the sky by way of gratitude, as he fell upon the feast. With the aid of his knife Wallion skilfully opened the tin, uncorked the bottles without the least noise, and both set to with a voracious appetite.
"What do you think of the conversation among our three fellow travelers?" asked Wallion after a pause.
Tom, having appeased the most insistent pangs of hunger, said, with a touch of curiosity: "Then you heard it too?"
"Yes, I had made myself quite comfortable in the cabin; Dixon is a fine fellow, isn't he? You didn't seem to worry though; any one might have seen your head a thousand yards away...."
"You didn't trouble either," retorted Tom. "Of course, I was rather taken aback when the packet disappeared before my very eyes."
Wallion laughed and held it up.
"You see, in spite of that, the thing hasn't got lost," he said. He untied the string and unrolled the oilcloth, revealing several sheets of note-paper, covered with writing in a bold, clear hand.
"Let us take advantage of the daylight remaining and read William Robertson's notes whilst we are still undisturbed."