“Now, youngster,” he said, “you may say what you wish.”

 

Tom looked significantly at two of the band who were within hearing.

 

“I should like to speak to you in private,” he said.

 

The captain frowned slightly, and was on the point of refusing, but curiosity overcame him.

 

“Very well,” he said. “Follow me.”

 

They went a few rods away.

 

“Now,” he said, “speak.”

 

“What I have to say,” Tom begun, “is about those bonds.”

 

“You wish to plead for your friend?” interrupted the captain. “If that is all, I will tell you to begin with, that it is of no use. I shall not give them up.”

 

“You have made a mistake,” said Tom quietly. “In the first place, that man is not my friend.”

 

“You were traveling together.”

 

“That is true, but I only met him in San Francisco. I was following him to find out the very thing you helped me to discover to-day.”

 

“What is that?”

 

“Whether he had those papers.”

 

“What have you to do with the papers?” demanded the captain, in surprise.

 

“I will tell you, sir. For the want of these papers a New York merchant failed who owed me ten thousand dollars.”

 

“Whew! I begin to see.”

 

“This man—he calls himself Morton, but his real name is Lincoln—was Mr. Armstrong’s clerk. He appropriated these securities, worth about eighty thousand dollars, and fled. It was supposed, but not known, that he had come to California. I agreed to follow him and ascertain¹.”

 

“It is rather strange that you, a boy, should have undertaken such a task. It is a man’s work.”

 

“There was no one else to do it. I offered my services, and was accepted. I arrived in San Francisco three months since. I only met this man a few days ago.”

 

“How did you know him?”

 

“Mr. Armstrong gave me his description.”

 

“Very good. Having found him, you followed him. What good did you think it would do? Supposing he had the papers, how did you expect to get hold of them?”

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