“But can he be in the pay of that revengeful Frenchman, François Lascelles?” demanded Roger, rather appalled by the thought.
“We will soon know, because, unless I am mistaken, that smoke they are sending up yonder is meant to call him here. And it would not surprise me very much, Roger, if that brave who has been eating at our campfire for two days, crept out last night and told how he had been engaged to take us to this stream to-day. That would account for the Indians being concealed here.”
The boys were without weapons, and could do nothing toward the making of their escape; so they waited with what patience they could command to see what was about to happen.
Shortly afterwards some one was seen approaching, at sight of whom Roger gave utterance to an exclamation of disgust.
“Why, after all, it’s that skunk, Andrew Waller!” he exclaimed.
“Yes, he must have found some way to get in with these Indians, and they have been working for his interests,” Dick suggested. “Perhaps he has lied to them, and made them believe we are two very important persons. He may take the trouble to explain the thing to us, thinking it will add to his glory.”
“I can see the look of satisfaction on his face from here,” said Roger, in a surly tone, as though it cut him to the quick to have the traitor triumph over them in that way.
Waller soon arrived on the scene, and his first act was to look insolently into the faces of the two boys.
“So, you fell to the bait, did you, boys? When I told you we would meet again you didn’t believe it would be so soon. And let me say that you are going to be in a pretty pickle after this. These Indians will make sure that you do not slip through their hands.”
“What have you been telling them about us?” demanded Roger, impetuously. “Some big lie I am sure, for it would be just like you.”