“Fishy?”
“Yes, fishy,” returned Caleb, sitting down and speaking confidentially. “Several things make me believe that you (and me, too) haven’t been half awake in this business.”
“I certainly do not understand you,” declared Adoniram.
“Well, give me a chance to explain, will you?” said the sailor impatiently. “You seem to think that this old land shark of an uncle of the boy’s is just trying to get him back on the farm, and has hatched up this robbery business for that purpose? I don’t suppose you think Don stole any money from him, do you?” he added.
“Not for an instant!” the merchant replied emphatically.
“That’s what I thought. Well, as I say, you suppose he wants Brandon back on the farm—wants his work, in fact?”
“Ye—es.”
“Well, did it ever strike you, ’Doniram,” Caleb pursued, with a smile of superiority on his face—“did it ever strike you that if he was successful in proving Brandon guilty, the boy would be locked up and then nobody would get his valuable services—nobody except the State?”
“Why, that’s so.”
“Of course it’s so.”