Crouching on the floor, lighted only by a flashlight lantern, was a grown boy and a hunchbacked man. The boy at that moment was in the act of dumping the contents of a large bag upon the log floor of the building.
“Loot!” whispered Florence.
“But why do they pour it out?”
Florence placed two fingers on her companion’s lips.
That the articles had not been taken from the fort they realized at once, for the boy, holding up a modern lady’s shoe with an absurdly high heel, gave forth a hoarse laugh.
There were other articles, all modern; a spectacle-case with broken lenses inside but gold rims still good, another pair of glasses with horn rims that had not been broken; and there were more shoes.
And, most interesting of all, there were several purses. That the strange pair regarded these purses with the greatest interest was manifested by the manner in which they had their heads together as the first was opened.
Shaking the contents into his huge fist, the hunchback picked out some small coins and handed them to the boy. A glittering compact and a folded bill he thrust into the side pocket of his coat. The boy frowned, but said not a word. Instead he seized upon a second pocket-book and prepared to inspect it for himself.
“Pickpockets!” Jeanne whispered. “They have been working on that helpless throng. Now they have come here to divide their loot.”
Florence did not answer.