"
"That's a fine notion!" said Bradley, actually smiling.
"And don't come back here with the boy. Send him home to the old
lady. Then, if you want to help me in the work I'm on--"
"I don't, and I won't!"
"Don't blame you a mite! I never did like a traitor! If you won't
help me, then cut sticks for New York. Some day when you are in
better mood, come to the Black Bear Patrol clubroom. You know where
it is! Well give you a look into the place without sending you up to
the attic!"
Bradley's face twisted into a laugh, but Ned did not seem to notice
the fact.
"I'm not saying anything more about the prince, understand, or the
attic, or the French, or the black stain, but perhaps you'll tell me
the whole story some day!"
And so, handcuffed again, Bradley was taken back to the tent, where
he was given a hearty meal. Then he carefully made his way out and
ran for the summit. Ned and his chums sat back and laughed at the
tumbles he took in his eagerness to deceive any one who might be
watching the camp. Now and then he fell down behind a rock and lay
there for a moment, peering out in the direction of the tent.
Just before he gained the summit, Ned and the others ran out of the
tent with shouts of alarm and dashed up the slope, firing as they
went.
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