Tom glanced about him hastily. If the man had evil intentions, there was no way of escape. It seemed as if he could feel the little watch beating against his own heart. He tried to answer with an appearance of carelessness.
“I come here most every day and read,” he said. “It’s cool in the woods.”
“What climb up high for?”
“There’s a good place here to sit down. I like to be alone, sometimes, don’t you, Sebattis?”
The good-will of the tone was lost on the Indian, who evidently knew more than he cared to tell.
“Where Gold-hair’s watch?” he asked suddenly and fiercely, to throw Tom off his guard.
“It was lost that day she fell into the lake.”
“Yis. Me remember. See!” and Sebattis scowled darkly as he laid his hand on a scar where the broken window, probably, had cut his forehead.
“I am sorry you were hurt,” began Tom, nervously.
“You know where watch is. Give me!”