“Well, I was just thinking—thinking whether I had better reveal the suspicion that has arisen in my mind lately.”
“Certainly; tell it, by all means,” exclaimed Tumult.
Town. stepped nearer the scout and said:
“I solemnly believe that Rollo is a traitor—that he knew of the savages being concealed in the ferry-boat.”
The old scout at once grew restless; he looked at Town.—shifted his rifle to the other shoulder, and said:
“What makes ye think so, Town.?”
“His actions during the fight on the boat—he never lifted a hand to help us, but directly I caught him assisting on board the boat, the savage that you knocked overboard.”
“Didn’t he ’pologize when ye ketched him?”
“He plead excitement.”
“Ugh—humph!” ejaculated Old Tumult; “wal, Town., as to that lad bein’ a traitor, we think alike; and thar’s sumthin’ else that I’ve diskivered ’bout him, and what s’prises me is that you haven’t see’d it yerself.”