The Maliseet drew forth the cake of tobacco thus delicately referred to by his old friend, filled his pipe and lit it.
“I’d like to tell him how we’re fixed, and perhaps he’d lend us a hand,” said Young Dan to his partner.
“Sure he’d lend us a hand,” replied Andy. “Tell him our story. Pete Sabatis kin be trusted with anything in the world, I reckon, secrets or goods—exceptin’ baccy.”
So Young Dan told of their experiences with, and suspicions of, Jim Conley, and of the problem which confronted him.
“That a’right,” said Pete. “What do you do first, hey?”
“That depends on you,” replied the youth. “Do you know the way to Andy’s house?”
“Know him a’right when you tell me.”
“I’ll draw a map for you, if you’ll get Andy’s medicine.”
“To-morrow.”
“That’s fine. I’m mighty glad you turned up. I’ll go out now and spring a few traps, and to-morrow I’ll take some grub back to the Conleys and see what’s up. When you get home from Andy’s place with the medicine I will light right out for Bean’s Mill.”