Raikes took another look at Sparwick and at the boys. Then he drew a tiny glass vial from his pocket, and slipped it into Bogle’s hand.
“Take good care of it,” he whispered, “and put it in a safe place.”
“What is it?” asked Bogle.
“Chloroform,” Raikes whispered. “I’ll tell you how to use it. Some time to-morrow night wet a rag, and press it on Sparwick’s face while he is sleeping. Then bind him tightly, and put a gag in his mouth. At daybreak start for the meeting place with the boys. You can easily manage them if you keep their arms tied. Glendale and I will be waiting. You and I will share the fifteen thousand dollars, and strike for a safe part of the country.”
“Splendid!” whispered Bogle. “You’re a born schemer, Silas. I thought you would find some way to outwit this greedy fool. But shall I leave him here to die of starvation?”
“We’ll let Glendale or the boys send a party to rescue him,” replied Raikes. “And as likely as not he’ll spend the next two or three years of his life in jail. That’s enough now. It’s not safe to talk any longer. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly,” whispered Bogle. “You may look for me and the lads at sunset.”
This ended the conversation. Raikes lay down, and pulled the blankets over him. Not a sound could be heard but the steady breathing of the sleepers.
Had the fire been burning brightly it might have been seen that Sparwick’s eyes were open. There was a devilish smile of mingled anger and triumph on his face. Under the blankets he savagely clinched his fists.
“It’s a good thing I was listening,” he said to himself. “A mighty good thing. I reckon I’ll be ready fur these sneakin’ liars.”