Cavarly hesitated and spoke stiffly, with embarrassment. “I don' know as I'm up to that. Appears most natural to go to Richmond.”
“Just so. And what point would there be in not staying by you. We go to—what you call it—Redwood, to-morrow? Early?”
“Six o'clock.”
“All right.”
I sat up as the three men passed, but they hardly looked at me, and said nothing. Calhoun kept his hat over his face till their footsteps died away, then turned around.
“Captain didn't argue that well,” he remarked. “He ought to be dead sure, and he isn't.”
“Well,” I said, “he might feel sure of it when we got to Richmond, and then he'd arrest us, wouldn't he?”
“Richmond! We're not going to Richmond. We're going to light out of here to-night.”
I thought Calhoun was difficult to follow in his plans, and waited for more.
“Why, see here, Bennie Ben!” he said indignantly. “Here's the old man going round looking like a suppressed wildcat and thinking I'm not on to him! That's absurd. It don't give me any credit. He ought to be sure we fiddled with his compass, and he ought to know I'm on to him. Must be he's busted with his ship. Why, he's a clever man, Bennie, but look how he's doing! Course, if a fellow is going to do another fellow, he has to make up his mind.”