"I don't know," replied Nathan. "I never heard him speak of Major Langdon. In fact, I don't know anything about my father's past. But I believe the secret to this mystery lies over the sea, and I'll tell you why."
He went on to relate the visit of Mr. Noah Waxpenny to the Indian Queen, and how he had asked information concerning both Richard Stanbury and Major Langdon. This was new to Godfrey and Barnabas, and all three discussed the matter earnestly, but without coming any nearer a solution.
"We've got to have patience, an' wait," said Barnabas. "That's the only thing to do. The papers are safe, anyway, an' this fellow from London may clear up the mystery if we run across him. Or your father may turn up, lad—"
"Perhaps Godfrey knows something about him," exclaimed Nathan. "Did the British carry off any prisoners after the battle of Monmouth?"
"Not that I know of," replied Godfrey. "I saw or heard of none; but then I was in front during the retreat."
"My father is alive," declared Nathan. "I am sure of it."
"I hope so," said Godfrey. "Speaking about those papers," he added, "I feel a good bit worried. If Glass gets it into his head that you have them—as he probably will, when he has dug over the ruins of the cabin—he is sure to follow you up."
"It's hardly likely," replied Barnabas. "An' then he can't ketch us anyway, pervidin' the currents and depth of water hold good. No, lad, I think we're done with Simon Glass, as far as this expedition is concerned. There, Mrs. Cutbush has got breakfast ready. She's calling us."
Barnabas and the two lads found no further opportunity that day to discuss the mystery of Major Langdon and the papers. It was a day of hard and unremitting toil. There had been a long spell of dry weather, and, as the river gradually widened, its channel became more and more obstructed by grass-bars, shallows, and outcropping ledges. Doubtless the preceding boats had found a ready passage, but the abandoned flat that Proud and Cutbush had tinkered up under the spur of necessity was broad, heavy, and leaky. Cato was constantly kept busy bailing water, and rudder and poles were of little aid to navigation. Every few minutes all of the party except Mrs. Cutbush and Molly were compelled to get out, and by their united strength drag the craft over the shallows.
By ten o'clock that night less than twelve miles had been covered, and the exhausted men could proceed no further. They encamped on a patch of sand and scrub in mid-channel, and took turns at guard mounting until morning. Mrs. Cutbush and her daughter slept in the flat, on a comfortable bed of dried grass, that was protected from the damp planks by an underlayer of pine boughs.