With
this thought came the memory of the signals he had heard on the
mountain, and he arose and went to the window opening, barren of
sash and glass, and looked out, hoping to again hear, above the
rain, the calls of the Black Bears. But no such sounds greeted
his ears. There was only the rush of the rain.
Fremont knew that the renegade would not be paid the reward
until after conviction, and he did not believe that any jury
would convict him. It was not the fear of a penalty that had
caused him to consent to flight, but the dread of the waiting
in prison. He had an idea that Big Bob knew that he could not
secure the reward at all unless he succeeded in securing a
confession, and that he had given this up.
Under these circumstances the renegade might not go to the trouble
of taking him to the border. Still, he seemed to be making for
Texas with all secrecy and speed. Was there some other motive
for landing him on Texas soil? The renegade had shown a strange
familiarity with conditions in the Cameron building, and might
be in some way interested in some other affair there. There
seemed to be no answer to the puzzling questions the boy asked himself.
Looking into the immediate future, the boy could see but one ray of
hope, and that centered about Nestor, Jimmie, and the Boy Scouts.
He knew, from the call of the Black Bear Patrol signal, on the
mountain, that his friends, loyal to the core, were not far away,
but he did not know how many there were in the party, or what
chances of success they had.
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