“Probably you want to run us into some trap or other,” reflected the scout.
“Nary a trap,” went on Hendricks. “Bein’ with ye, we’d be gittin’ inter a trap ourselves.”
“I’ll give you a trial,” said the scout, after a period of reflection.
The prisoners brightened.
“How do we know,” said Banks, “ye’ll keep yer word an’ turn us loose after we tell ye?”
“You don’t,” returned the scout. “All you’ve got is my word for it. If I take your word, you’ll have to take mine.”
“That’s enough fer me, Banks,” said Hendricks.
“Where’s Miss McGowan?” asked the scout.
“She, along with Bascomb and Bernritter, is on the island in Quicksand Lake.”
“Island in Quicksand Lake!” echoed the scout derisively.