“But I did not intrust it to Buck Tom, knowing who and what he is,” returned Charlie, with a significant smile, “I put it into the hands of Ralph Ritson, knowing who and what he was.”
“You’re a good fellow, Charlie,” said Shank, squeezing the hand that held his, “and I believe it is that very trustfulness of yours which gives you so great power and influence with people. I know it has influenced me for good many a time in the past, and would continue to do so still if I were not past redemption.”
“No man is past redemption,” said the other quietly; “but I’m glad you agree with me about Ralph, for—”
He stopped abruptly, and both men turned their eyes towards the entrance to the cave.
“Did you hear anything?” asked Shank, in a low voice.
“I thought so—but it must have been the shifting of a log on the fire,” said the other, in a similarly low tone.
“Come, now, Charlie,” said Shank, in his ordinary tones, “let me hear something about yourself. You have not said a word yet about what you have been doing these three years past.”
As he spoke a slight noise was again heard in the passage, and, next moment Buck Tom re-entered carrying a lump of meat. Whether he had been listening or not they had no means of knowing, for his countenance was quite grave and natural in appearance.
“I suppose you have had long enough, you two, to renew your old acquaintance,” he said. “It behoves me now to get ready some supper for the boys against their return, for they would be ill-pleased to come home to an empty kettle, and their appetites are surprisingly strong. But you needn’t interrupt your conversation. I can do my work without disturbing you.”
“We have no secrets to communicate, Buck,” returned Shank, “and I have no doubt that the account of himself, which our old chum was just going to give, will be as interesting to you as to me.”