“Et ees good you go,” he told them. “You young fellow get ver’ tired stay one place all ze time.” Then he sighed regretfully. “Ver’ often I weesh I might be young too. Always go, always have good time. Et ees ze great fun, monsieurs.”
Dick’s brow contracted thoughtfully. Did Frischette contemplate a visit to Creel himself? Had the Frenchman a plan of his own?
“Just our luck,” Dick told Sandy a few minutes later, “if the old rascal decides to visit Creel tonight. We’ve gone to a lot of trouble already.”
The young Scotchman slapped irritably at a mosquito that had lit upon his arm.
“Yes, it was necessary to take Fontaine and Le Sueur more or less into our confidence. That’s one phase of the thing I don’t like. Those two friends of Toma’s know we’re up to something. All I hope is, that they’ll have sense enough to keep their mouths shut. If Frischette ever gets an inkling that we’re watching him, the game’s up.”
“But Fontaine and Le Sueur haven’t the least idea what we purpose to do,” said Dick. “Neither one of them knows that we’re spying upon Frischette.”
“Yes, but they’ll think it’s queer that we’re deceiving him. They’ll wonder why we have lied to him, want them to go to the encampment while we remain behind.”
“You don’t need to worry about that, Sandy. You may depend upon it that Toma has made our proposed actions seem very plausible.”
Sandy grinned.
“Toma probably has told them a wonderful story. I’ll agree with you there. He certainly possesses a keen imagination.”