was at the pains to spy upon them, it was highly probable he knew

English, and if he knew English it was certain the whole of their

design was in the Master's knowledge. There was one singularity in

the position. If Secundra Dass knew and concealed his knowledge of

English, Harris was a proficient in several of the tongues of

India, and as his career in that part of the world had been a great

deal worse than profligate, he had not thought proper to remark

upon the circumstance. Each side had thus a spy-hole on the

counsels of the other. The plotters, so soon as this advantage was

explained, returned to camp; Harris, hearing the Hindustani was

once more closeted with his master, crept to the side of the tent;

and the rest, sitting about the fire with their tobacco, awaited

his report with impatience. When he came at last, his face was

very black. He had overheard enough to confirm the worst of his

suspicions. Secundra Dass was a good English scholar; he had been

some days creeping and listening, the Master was now fully informed

of the conspiracy, and the pair proposed on the morrow to fall out

of line at a carrying place and plunge at a venture in the woods:

preferring the full risk of famine, savage beasts, and savage men

to their position in the midst of traitors.

What, then, was to be done? Some were for killing the Master on

the spot; but Harris assured them that would be a crime without

profit, since the secret of the treasure must die along with him

that buried it. Others were for desisting at once from the whole

enterprise and making for New York; but the appetising name of

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