“I see Mr. Frazer talk with them many times,” Toma wagged his head. “When I come close they hush up—don’t talk any more. An’ one time I see a light in Mr. Frazer’s room late, ’bout two o’clock, I think. An’ there through the window I see ’em. Wolf Brennan, McCallum, Frazer an’ two Indians I do not know.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” demanded Dick.
That was the way with Toma—ever reticent. His uncommunicativeness often became a source of despair to his two chums.
“You no ask me.”
“But how did we know?” glared Sandy. “We weren’t up at two o’clock that night.”
“I no tell you that,” Toma explained, “because I think mebbe you no want to hear bad things about Mr. Frazer.”
“You cherub!” Sandy snorted.
“Sandy,” questioned Dick, “how does Mr. Frazer stand with the company?”
Sandy stirred the oatmeal, sugar and bacon grease together in what was to Dick an unappetizing mess.
“Uncle Walter never told me.”