We drew cuts to see who should be the first four to go. Skinny, Harry, Wallie, and Bill won the first chance. They were to start the next morning at seven o'clock sharp from the bridge, two going north and two south. Hank, Benny, Chuck, and myself were to wait until seven o'clock, the second day, and then start. When we all had come back, we planned to meet Mr. Norton and tell him about where we had been and what we had seen and done.
Benny and I live nearest to the bridge. My house is only a stone's throw north of it; Benny's is a little north of mine and on the other side of Park Street. That made it easy for us to get to the bridge first, but pretty soon the others began to come.
"Has anybody seen Skinny?" I asked, looking at Mr. Norton.
Skinny's house is near Mr. Norton's, and we had thought that maybe they would come together.
"I stopped in as I passed," said he. "Mrs. Miller told me that he had started."
Just then we heard a caw, sounding from over toward Plunkett's woods somewhere. It didn't take us long to answer. Then we watched down the railroad track, where it curves into town between the wooded hillside and the river.
We didn't have long to wait. In a few minutes we saw Skinny put his head out between the trees which line a high bank, fifteen or twenty feet above the track. He looked carefully in every direction; waved one arm, when he saw that we were watching, and then dodged back again out of sight.
"He's surrounding something," said Bill, giving a caw so loud it must have almost scared the crows up in the Bellows Pipe.
"There are only four minutes left before leaving time."
Mr. Norton was looking at his watch. He had hardly spoken, when, with a whoop and yell, Skinny slid down the embankment and was running like mad up the track toward us, waving his hatchet in one hand and swinging a rope around his head with the other.