At evening the men made camp again, this time in a little clearing strewn with fallen logs; and when Bry rejoined me in a clump of trees where Nux and I had halted, I told him frankly that I was faint with hunger, and that unless I could find something to eat I could not go on. I have no doubt the blacks were hungry, too; but they were more inured to hardship, and could bear it better.
But Bry volunteered to try to secure some food, and as soon as darkness had fallen he crept toward the camp, managing to approach to within five yards of the camp fire, around which the robbers sat smoking and talking. He was concealed by a huge log, behind which he hid, listening carefully to the conversation, which he afterward retailed to me.
“So far,” Larkin was saying, “we couldn’t have done better. By this time I guess we’re pretty safe from pursuit.”
“No one could find their way here in a year,” boasted Daggett, his lean face grinning with delight. “I’m the only man on the island as knows the trails.”
“Are you sure you can lead us to that queer rock you tell of?” asked Judson, a little uneasily.
“Sure. And once there, we could defy an army,” returned Daggett. “Then we can make our raft, row out to where the ship is, and sail away home.”
Larkin gave a rude laugh, ending it with an oath.
“There’ll be some tall cussin’ in the camp,” he said.
“Major’ll be crazy,” assented Daggett.
“I swiped every grain o’ gold he had, while he lay a-snorin’,” chuckled Hayes, a big ruffian who was called “Dandy Pete,” in derision, because he was so rough and unkempt. “Pity we couldn’t ’a’ got all there was in camp.”