“Huh! that looks a whole lot queer to me, partner. Why should Bart Hicks want to act like he might be an informer, tryin’ to hand you a leadin’ clue to a smashin’ big mystery an’ on the sly in the bargain? Huh! seems to me he must ’a’ had some good reason for doin’ sech a stunt as that!”
“Thunder! Perk, if you don’t make me think of the picture we used to see in the magazine ads, where a baby in a bathtub is reaching out to get hold of a cake of soap with a well known brand on it with the words ‘He won’t be happy till he gets it.’ Right now you’re just eaten up with curiosity about that slip of paper Bart crammed down in my pocket and there’ll be no peace in the camp till you know its contents.”
Perk unblushingly chuckled, as if ready to “acknowledge the corn.”
“Lemme have the stick, partner,” he hastened to suggest, “I’m jest as fit as a fiddle to lay things out for a few hours, an’ mebbe it’ll tone me down some.”
“Oh! all right brother, here you go then.”
The transfer was made “as slick as grease,” according to Perk’s mind and so Jack felt in his coat pocket to immediately draw out a sheet of paper, evidently torn hastily from an account book, and upon which there was considerable writing, none too legible.
He fastened his eyes on this and Perk could see that whatever the tenor of Bart’s secret communication was, it appeared to afford Jack considerable interest. Several times as he read on he nodded his head, as if agreeing with certain statements in the missive, all of which redoubled poor Perk’s eagerness to have a share in the proceedings.
“Well, that certainly takes the cake,” Jack was heard to say after he had evidently reached the finish of the note.
“Ain’t you goin’ to let me in on the fun, partner?” begged the other almost pathetically. “I’m sure all het up with a desire to know what’s goin’ on.”
Jack nodded his head again and then started to relieve his chum’s mental burden.