"The very same!" Nathan cried, excitedly "Noah Waxpenny, of London, who came to the Indian Queen that night!"
"The man who wanted information of your father and Major Langdon?" Godfrey asked, incredulously.
"Yes, that's the one," exclaimed Nathan. "I'm sure he can clear up the mystery. I must speak to him right away."
The lad was too excited to know what he was doing, and before his friends could check him he made a rush for the door of the inner room. But the officer in command of the fort—an ill-featured sergeant—gave him a push that sent him reeling back.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "And you?" he added, turning to Barnabas and Godfrey, and regarding them with angry suspicion.
Barnabas briefly explained, and the sergeant was somewhat mollified when he learned that the strangers were fugitives from Wyoming.
"It's all right," he grumbled, "but you had no call to interfere with my duty. Do you know that spy yonder?" The lad here spoke the name he gives himself—Noah Waxpenny.
"Spy?" exclaimed Barnabas.
"Yes, man; I said spy. I've just given him a trial, and to-morrow morning he hangs."
"What proof have you of his guilt?"